Lost in translation

I have been blessed with the ability to pick up foreign languages quickly. But to be fair, I'm not the greatest at staying motivated for retention purposes. I guess I'd like to think of myself as more of an experiential learner these days. Learning on the fly, out in the world, instead of hunched over a textbook or dictionary. And language is one of the best areas of study for this. I can walk around my city and have constant interaction. There is always someone new around, either a group of young kids walking to school or an elderly woman washing clothes. They are always mesmerized by the fact that I can converse with them in their own language (I'm fairly adept in Tagalog and have picked up a bit of the regional dialect Bicol-Albay from locals). The problem I have is that despite my persistence with Tagalog, a majority of these conversations always resort back to English.

I have asked myself over and over again, "why is this?" American influence back in the early 20th Century? English taught in schools? Their perceptions of me as an English-speaking westerner? Translation problems? Sure, all of these play a role. But when it comes down to it, English is commonly seen as a universal language in our world today (although not by all countries). It's also a way for them to practice their skills, and for many, as a means to a better life.

And we help facilitate this. Through media. Through everyday interactions. And through acknowledging that everyone we meet probably knows at least a few basic words. This is generally true in the US, but when I joined Peace Corps, I anticipated that adopting a new language would be a top priority. However, the Philippines has a rich Americanized past, one which has integrated the English language firmly into its society. Sure, many of the people I work with, mainly impoverish fisherfolk, don't speak a lick. But others, including many of my coworkers, are very skilled. So much so that when I can't think of a word in Tagalog, I use the English equivalent and assume that my counterparts or community members understand me. Hell, half the time I hope that someone else will speak to me in English so my brain can take a rest.

My mental struggle is over the sense of pride identified with language. I have come to appreciate a part of this as many Filipinos have exclaimed to me, "it brings me so much joy to here you speak our language." They genuinely care when foreigners take the time to immerse themselves in their culture, in their life. Even when I was in Bali, the warm look on people's faces when you said suksma (thank you) shared so much of their internal gratitude.

Whether its me sharing a bit of English vocab with my host family or an exuberant friend enjoying a playful conversation with me in Tagalog, the satisfaction I can see on their faces is something I will always hold dear. And it certainly helps keep my experiential studies going ;) Language is quite a powerful tool.

Survival

I struggled to find the words for this post as there have been so many emotions running through my head the past few days. Helplessness. Frustration. Sadness. Anxiety. Determination. Hope. Courage. Love.

As I stumbled out of my comfortable consolidation hotel Saturday morning, the Legazpi City landscape appeared unchanged. Minor agricultural damage. Trikes and jeepneys whizzing by. No sign of a catastrophic typhoon. I was thankful...and lucky. But as I began the hour trek north back home to Tabaco, I slowly began to feel the after effects of yet another natural disaster for this resilient country...

The top placemark indicates the location of my site. The bottom the location of Tacloban City, Leyte, one of the hardest hit areas. Although the typhoon stretched across 2/3 of the country, it was fairly centralized as the most severe damage was confined to those central islands.

The path of  typhoon Yolanda/Haiyan and the wind speeds experienced throughout the Philippines. Sources: Joint Typhoon Warning Center; National Centers for Environmental Prediction; National Statistical Coordination Board, Philippines; General Statistics Office Of Vietnam.

THE REALITY: the Philippines is a third world country with a predominantly coastal population and a diverse natural landscape. It acts as the first major land mass to receive tropical storms originating in the Pacific, one of the reasons why it commonly sees upwards of 20 storms/typhoons per year. These are only getting worse with climate change (i.e. Typhoon Haiyan this year and Typhoon Bopha last year). Additionally, the country's location in the Pacific ring of fire leaves it vulnerable to earthquakes (seen last month) and volcanic eruptions (seen earlier this year). The poverty distribution is extreme, not to mention the lack of resources available. And despite the resourcefulness of Filipinos, many are unable to afford quality housing and supplies, leading to the poor infrastructure we see. All of this contributes to the devastation seen last weekend, particularly in the Eastern Visayan islands of Samar and Leyte, two of the country's poorest islands.

A typical nipa hut made out of bamboo and nipa fronds. Many houses, particularly those in rural, coastal areas, are made of these materials. While beautiful, they are extremely vulnerable, especially when up against hurricane force winds.

The grim reality of this monster is unfolding as I type. The worst is over, but Yolanda/Haiyan unleashed an assault on the Central Visayan islands of Leyte, Samar, Cebu, Negros, and Panay. I'm thankful that all PC volunteers are now safe and accounted for. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for some of the communities they left behind. Homes are destroyed. Thousands are dead. And survivors are wandering the streets in search of food, water, clothing, and shelter. And we call them crazy for looting? They're just trying to survive.

Natural disasters are common occurrences worldwide, and they seem almost inescapable since I've been living here in the Philippines. I understand the position of many of you, trying to grasp the severity of this from overseas. I was in the same predicament last year, witnessing the destruction of Hurricane Sandy and the Midwestern tornadoes. Sadly, much is still unknown about this calamity since internal communication networks have been damaged, thereby slowing information dissemination and relief efforts.

As much as I have come to understand the importance of religion in the Philippines, prayers are no longer enough. Action must be taken. Relief organizations have been extremely active thus far, preparing supplies and personnel to send to affected regions. Small donations can go along way here, so please take the time to support this amazing country and its beautiful, strong-willed people.

Break muna

Destination: Bali, Indonesia.

It's always nice to have a trip lined up as a Peace Corps volunteer. Something to look forward to on those dog days at site. I had been looking forward to this trip since a group of us started planning it in June, and on October 12, it finally arrived. 

7 days. 8 Peace Corps volunteers. 2 hospitable parents. 1 villa. 

2 days scuba diving. 3 days surfing. 1 day of art and culture. 1 candy land power hour. 

PHEnommmenal food. Shark, turtle, and cuttlefish spottings. A WWI wreck dive. An epic wave (to which I got destroyed). 

Balinese pants. A camel strip tease. A waterslide beer bong. And NO RAIN (I say this with enthusiasm since coming from the Philippines, this was truly a blessing). 

I was originally searching for a laid back, chill vacation. Something different from what we experienced last New Years. As our numbers increased, the more I thought this idea was a mere fantasy. But this trip wouldn't have been the same without our cohesive group. It offered everyone something different and in the end, everyone got out of it exactly what they needed. For me, it was that timeout from my "routine." A break muna as we say in the Philippines. A chance to remove myself from the life I had been accustomed to for the past year. 

As I sat around the dinner table my last night in Bali with my two friends Josh and Dan, we discussed this break muna and how this trip became more than we had ever anticipated. And at the perfect time. The following week was our MST conference, where our entire batch gathered to reflect and share on the past year and look ahead to our next one. 

For me, Bali set the tone for my MST and for my year ahead. My last one as a Peace Corps volunteer. Sure I wanted the time away to escape and in a way, to be reacquainted with western life. But it ultimately ended up being the opposite. Bali became more than a break muna, and reminded me that there is still so much more out there. More people to meet. More places to explore. More culture to soak up. In the Philippines and beyond.

 Our home for the week. Not too shabby thanks to Tito and Tita Crow

 The civet; its poop makes the world's most expensive coffee

 Jeff and our tour guide Wayan enjoying the civet coffee. Wayan wasn't a big fan

 Rachael, Russ, and Melissa (L-R) enjoying a nice stroll through the rice fields to our lunch spot, Sari Organic

 Waiting for the smoke to clear??

 A Balinese temple in Ubud

The Monkey Forest in Ubud. How many can you spot?

Routines

It’s very easy to fall into the day-in, day-out patterns of our busy lives. Wake up and grab a quick bite to eat before heading off to work or class, only to return to your home in the early evening. Maybe you mix it up and grab dinner with a friend or catch happy hour with some coworkers. Or maybe you hit the gym or go for a run before settling in for dinner, catch a primetime TV show or lounge with a favorite book before heading to bed. Repeat.

I was enjoying the fact that my life in the Philippines didn't lock me into a daily schedule. Constant nuances throughout my first year here kept me on my toes and sparked my curiosity. But it seems the times have finally caught up to me. Or maybe I have just caught up to the Philippines.

These past two months or so have flown by like no other, partly because I have developed a daily routine. Or so I think. To briefly walk you through…I typically wake up a little later these days (because my work allows me to). Sometimes I work from home; other days I will head to my Agriculture Office or the World Wildlife Fund office nearby. I work til 12 before heading home to have lunch prepared by my host family. Work concludes at 5, at which time I like to stop to grab pandesal (a bready wonder treat made by gods) for my afternoon merienda (snack). I try and workout at my house before cooking dinner for myself, then a little light reading or a TV show on my laptop before hittin’ the hay. Again…repeat.

Now, are routines a be all and end all evil? Not at all. A lot of times having a routine allows us to be incredibly efficient. Or provides us with some stability or continuity. Some of my most productive work has occurred in the past two months. I've designed four new proposals for upcoming projects (including my internship proposal for my Master’s), helped update the municipal fisherfolk database, and conducted several coastal cleanups in nearby barangays.  I've played in several local basketball tournaments, and had a few leisurely weekends with other volunteers and Filipinos. But for me looking back, it’s the feeling that that isn’t enough. That I could still be doing more. More work, more social activities, more cultural interaction.

Then I have a night like I did two weeks ago where you fully grasp that impact of what you’re doing and the appreciation others have for it. Once again, I was sharing my story as a Peace Corps volunteer.  Why I am here, what I do, how I live, etc. etc. The usual. This time with a bunch of basketball teammates after one of our games. I was repeatedly asked, “So why are you here?” I explain. But then I get, “So why are you STILL here?” I sat there a bit shocked because I had never been asked that before. But it didn't take me long to respond. “Because I want to be here. This is where I belong right now.” With that, my friends were stunned. Just the look on their faces gave me the most overwhelming feeling of humility, gratitude, and acceptance (I’m hoping it was that and not that we had knocked back one too many San Mig Lights ;)).

It is these moments that make routines not so routine. And that make ordinary days extraordinary.

I am now into my last 12 months of service. They say the time goes even faster now. Our daily routines always seem to make us say, “Jeez where did the time go?” I can guarantee I’ll be saying that when I COS (close of service) next year. Or years from now. “Wow my Peace Corps service is already over?!” Well…here’s to hoping I remember all those extraordinary days.

Body art and beach cleanups

For those of you who do not have a Facebook account or have not yet heard about my most recent venture, I got inked. AKA my first tattoo. I drew the design up months ago, and my Filipino friend and local tattoo artist Nico produced the finished product.

Nico hard at work. No pain no gain

The finished product, slightly red and swollen

For me, the tattoo symbolizes spirituality, family, growth and maturity, the Philippines and Peace Corps, and my winding camino. 

I was meaning to get the tattoo to mark my 1 year of service, but once again, July came and went before I knew it. Another month in the books. Hard to believe summer is dwindling down in the states and soon, kids will be heading back to school and snow will be on the ground (I know, I know...not what you want to think about right now. But I miss the snow!). With all the extreme weather I've heard about back home, the sporadic weather patterns have returned here in Bicol as well. Of course, that means rain. Thankfully, my new co-workers, counterparts, and I have been hard at work these past few weeks, allowing little downtime or boredom (except during brownouts :)) Today was the second of two coastal cleanups I have organized in local barangays this past week, and I recently received word that a third barangay is interested in having one in the upcoming weeks. These activities are great because they encourage community initiative and collaboration, while also promoting environmental awareness and solid waste management. Additionally, we will also be implementing the new municipal fisherfolk registration system (FishR) in Tabaco over the next few weeks. Feels good to be delegated more responsibility and given a chance to spearhead a lot of these activities. My new counterparts at the NGO (WWF - World Wildlife Fund) and the LGU have been very supportive and motivated, a drastic change from a few months ago.

Kids love to join in and lend a helping hand

My new LGU counterpart Louie giving a post-cleanup talk to students from a barangay high school

With a new batch of volunteers here, I am no longer one of the "new kids on the block." I've heard that this portion of service (between the 1 year mark and Mid-Service Training in October) is often the hardest for volunteers because we have reached the 1 year mark, volunteers question their work and impact so far, and the attention is now off of us and on the new trainees. But personally, I couldn't be happier with where things are at right now (despite this multi-day brownout that we have going on right now...I'm currently tapping into a food court's electricity). I'll be heading back to my training site in Bataan this weekend with Russ to visit our old host families, while hoping to share some volunteer wisdom and positive vibes with the new CRMers!

My new favorite Tagalog word: swabe (pronounced swah-bay) = smooth

An alternative space-time continuum (part two)

Squawking roosters. Barking dogs. Motorcycle engines. Claustrophobic jeepney and/or bus rides next to fighting cocks. Children playing with your hair (yes that means on your head, legs, and arms). Constant stares and glares, never loosing eye contact.

From a western perspective, privacy is seen as a right, not a privilege. An empty row of seats seems more appealing to us than one that is currently occupied by two strangers. Many people are afforded their own bedroom, instead of sharing one with other family members. Public transportation, such as buses and trains, aren't utilized as frequently as personal cars or taxis. All in all, we enjoy our personal space.

This was one of the biggest hurdles I had to overcome when I moved to the Philippines. And it is something that will never fully change. Filipinos are extremely welcoming and hospitable people, sometimes to a point where you think they are coming off rude (such as the "hey joe" references that I get on a daily basis, which refers to G.I. Joe's back in WWII when many Americans were stationed here). They go above and beyond to make sure that you are happy. The constant interaction was something I was not accustomed to. Maybe this is because Filipinos place an enormous value on family, to the point where you often see sons and daughters living with their parents well into their adult years and some even after they are married with children. Now, some may view this as being overprotective, etc. But Filipinos would only use one word to characterize this bond: love. They love and value their connections so much that they are willing to sacrifice their space to ensure the happiness of those around them. They don't care what is going on around them, who is rubbing against them at the supermarket or on the jeepney, or whether dogs are barking outside and keeping them up at night. Because lying right next to them or sharing a drink with them are those who are most important to them.

Three months ago, I moved out of my host family's home and into my own apartment. I wanted a little bit more space to myself and the opportunity to cook my own meals. But my new place is only 10 feet away from my host family. I didn't want to give up the valuable relationship I had with them by packing up my stuff and moving down the road. Over the course of my 8 months living with them, I learned the importance of sharing a wall.

 Jeepney ride next to a fighting cock. You can see the tight quarters

 My humble abode

 View from my front door into my living room (to the right) and the kitchen in the back

My kitchen

CR (or "comfort room", AKA bathroom)

My bedroom upstairs

The basketball hoop I built for my host family for Christmas. Very pleased with my craftsmanship, but more pleased with the use the kids are giving it. They'll play well after the sun goes down!

I can now tune out the dogs and the roosters (the rain helps). Children play with my leg hair on the bus. These are just daily occurrences. Yes, sometimes they are frustrating. Yes, I need to be able to have some time for myself. But I've found that our interpersonal communications are just as important as our intrapersonal ones. And that venturing out of my comfort zone, affording myself less personal space, allows me to appreciate the environments and people around me on a greater level.

One year in

One year. So many moments and memories swirl through my head today as I look back on my timeline as a Peace Corps volunteer. Hopping off the plane at 11:30 PM after 16 hours of flying surrounded by 69 "strangers" I'd barely gotten to know. Two physically and mentally exhausting weeks spent at Initial Orientation in Cavite. Two and a half months of intensive training (language, culture, and technical) in the Bataan province. Swearing in as volunteers at the US Embassy. A 12 hour night bus ride to an unfamiliar landscape that I would call home for the next two years. Time and trips spent with new friends. An ever-changing work environment that leaves me speculating what my role will be for the next 15 months.

Within uncertainty lies the opportunity for growth. 

Reflection can be an extremely powerful and effective tool. Where has the past year gone? Where am I headed?  How have I grown mentally, emotionally, spiritually, socially? Do I like these changes?

I am a person whose mind over thinks and analyzes every situation, sometimes to a fault. All in all, I only need to ask myself one question: am I happy?

The answer to that is an overwhelming yes.