Cebuano

As the sun rises above the horizon, the sun’s rays are filtered through a yellow haze from the smog. I have never seen such pollution in my life. I find it hard to believe that people could endure such filth. I could only imagine people walking around with a surgical mask over their mouths and noses as they walk around the streets of Manila to filter out the harmful particulates from entering their lungs. Why people would want to live here, I’ll never understand.

It is now six thirty in the morning, still a few hours away from boarding. I see a petite young Filipina, probably in her late twenties, with a young son in tow. I don’t know if she was on the same Frisco flight with me. She’s quite pretty but she’s got an eraser size mole on her left cheek. She catches me staring so I look away quickly, embarrased that I was caught looking. A few minutes later, a mixed couple shows up. These two I saw checking in at the airport in Frisco ahead of me. The wife is a Filipina with a curvaceous build, well endowed physically, but with a dog for a face. Too bad. You would think that a body like hers could make up for what she lacks in the face department, but not in her case. She looks like she could be in her mid thirties, especially from behind and especially with that body, but when she turns around you get real disappointed. The husband, a caucasian American, is a tall, lanky fella, probably about six-foot-seven, about sixty or so years old, but not ugly. He’s going to Cebu with his wife, a mail order bride, for the holidays. That’s one. I’m keeping count of how many white American/Filipina couples I see while I’m here.

I have no idea why it suddenly strikes me as interesting enough to keep a tab on. It barely enters my mind back in the States. Perhaps it’s the stereotype that fascinates me. Like all stereotypes, it’s rooted in some truths, and maybe I’m interested in how much of it is true. Is the guy almost always American, old, fat and ugly? Well, this particular fella is American and old, but he’s neither fat nor ugly. Is the bride almost always young, attractive and from the province? This particular lady ain’t young, certainly not attractive face wise, and Cebu is the next most populous city in the Philippines and perhaps as modern as Manila. It certainly isn’t considered the province by most peoples estimation. With all the available women in the States, why are so many white guys going to the P.I. to get their brides. Are all American women such bitches, so demanding, so career oriented, so independent such that they almost become unbearable spouses that the marriage almost always end up in a divorce? Yes, Americcan women are demanding and independent, more so than Filipina women. But career oriented and bitches? Not always. On the contrary most Americans I know, men and women, are generally good people. More to the point, if they reveal themselves to be jerks I usually try to avoid them. So what about the men, perhaps they’re the problem? Are they such lonely losers with no balls and too insecure to approach women that they have to resort to mail order brides from the Philippines to get married? Again, most Americans I know are not like this at all. The only people I know with mail order brides are the ones on television and the couples I see at the airport. In any case, the women in the Philippines don’t care if the guy is old and ugly as long as he is from the United States of America. It’s sad but the situation here is so poor that the women really don’t have the luxury to be as picky as their American counterparts.

A man in his forties, wearing a burgundy sweatshirt, sits across from me. He stares at me. I gave him a little nod, like “How ya doin” kinda gesture. He responds with the same, perhaps copying me, and smiles like he recognizes me or something, so I engage him in a somewhat friendly conversation.

Me: Are you going to Cebu?

He smiles at me as if I was crazy. Of course he’s going to Cebu. That’s why he’s sitting here in Terminal 1, because he’s waiting for the same flight as I am. But that’s not the reason why I asked him that question.

Him: Yes.

That’s all he said. A hell of a conversation this is turning out to be. I don’t want to ask him his name because quite frankly, I don’t care, so I ask him another question.

Me: Are you from Cebu?

Aha! This is clever. If he says yes I’m going to speak Bisaya to him.

Him: Yes.

Me: A di-ay ba? Dis-a man ka gekan?

Him: Gekan ko sa Torku, Finland.

I have no idea where Torku, Finland is, so I ask more questions.

Me: Ha-i mana ang Torku? Du-ol bana sa Helsinki?

Him: Layu ra, mga 200 km sa Helsinki.

Me: A di-ay ba? Nag unsa mang ka ngadto. Nag trabajo ba ka didto?

Him: O-o. Truck driver man ko.

Me: A di-ay ba? Di ba tugnaw didto sa Finland? Nag siging snow man gyud, di ba?

Him: Ow, O-o, tugnaw gyud. Pero, lame man pud. Daghang mga guapa nga babae.

Me: Ow siempre! daghan gyud ug mga blondes, di ba?

Him: Sigurado!

And with that I laughed. He just smiled. I think he’s still scratching his head, trying to figure me out, which is odd because there’s nothing unusual about me at all! I’m just an ordinary looking guy. I fit right in, especially in the Philippines. I can walk down the street and be totally immersed into this environment without being noticed. But he keeps staring at me as if I’m from Mars or some other planet. Maybe that’s just my imagination but it didn’t reassure me when he kept looking around while we were talking, as if he was trying to escape from me. We were silent for a moment but then he found someone he recognized sitting on the other side of the waiting area. He grabbed his carry on bag and split right away, heading for the “friend” who was sitting on the other side, as far away from me as possible. This was his chance, perhaps, to escape from my probing questions. The supposed “friend” barely recognized him as he sat down to shake his hand. Perhaps they didn’t know each other at all. The guy just wanted no part of me.

The flight from Manila to Cebu takes about an hour. The airplane takes off, it ascends, and before you know it, it begins to descend again in preparation for the landing. Breakfast is served but I hardly had any appetite for food at this moment because I just had breakfast earlier in the day, so I opted for a glass of orange juice and a cup of coffee.

The fella sitting next to me is a white guy from St. Louis, about 40 years old, and wearing a Cardinals baseball cap. So I tell him that Tony LaRussa is overrated. He says, "why do you say so". I said "because I'm an A's fan and when he was the skipper back in Oakland he had a loaded team who managed to reach three World Series in a row but only won one". He was incredulous of course, and he went on this long spiel about "anything can happen in baseball", "1 out of 3 ain't bad", and "at least he got there in the first place... how many managers can claim to do that", blah, blah, blah. He was indignant, and I had a lot of fun getting a rise out of this guy, it speeded up the whole trip by almost a third.

We landed in Mactan International Airport on the Island of Mactan, a small island across Cebu City, but I hardly noticed that we've arrive, having so much fun tweaking the guy from St. Louis about his beloved Cardinals. As we reached for our luggage in preparation to disembark, I casually said to the St. Louis fella,

Me: "So, what brings you around this part of the world?"

He: "I have business here"

Me: "On Christmas Eve?"

He just looked at me and smiled, as if I was ignorant.

He: "You live in the States?"

Now, that question struck me as mildly offensive, but I didn't say that to him. Instead, I just nodded my head. I felt somewhat dumb to be asking a white guy what the hell he's doing in the Philippines, as if he has no business being here. While we wait to disembark Mr. St. Louis fella keeps looking at me with a smirk in his face, knowing that I felt embarassed, and the satisfaction that he got me back for tweaking him about his Cardinals. I smile back with that stupid grin of a kid who got smacked in the head for teasing a little girl.

Mactan International is a relatively small airport but it's quite efficient and also modern; at least you don't have to step on the tarmac before getting inside the terminal. But the best thing about flying into Cebu instead of Manila is that you don't have to deal with Manila cab drivers, the traffic, the smog, and all the other shiketers in that godforsaken town. Although you pass through immigration in Manila, your baggage goes directly to Cebu, so you don't have to go through all the hassles of retrieving and rechecking your baggage again in Manila. There were only a handful of passengers who booked a direct flight from either Frisco or LA (El Lay) to Cebu, and so only a few people waiting in the international baggage claim area. Thus, I was out of there in less than twenty minutes.

The heat and humidity grabbed me like a blanket and almost literally suffocated me as I stepped out of the airport. Feeling somewhat disoriented, I fumbled around for a taxi until one finally dropped in on me. The cab driver spoke to me in Visayan (Bisaya), so I just said "Marriots Hotel". He said " 200 Pesos sir". A quick calculation in my head told me that's equivalent to US$4, so I said yes.

Cebu will strike many first time visitors as filthy, grimy, chaotically orgranized, and somewhat intimidating. I certainly felt that way as the cab crossed over Mactan Bridge and into the city of Mandaue. It also seems a bit backwards. There are traffic lights but few people seem to obey them. The streets are oily and dirty, there are kids begging in the streets, and many makeshift houses sit side by side with sari-sari stores (variety stores) and barbecue stands. It's about ten o'clock in the morning on December 24, 2006 here in Cebu and the whole city is bustling. The traffic is horrendous and there are tons of people walking in the streets, selling newspapers, lots of jeepney passengers, and lots of people going about their business on a Sunday morning. Maybe it's always like this, maybe it's because it's the holiday season, maybe it's because of the upcoming ASEAN summit that's been postoned until January due to inclement weather (right!). Whatever the reason, I feel encouraged, because there's a certain vibe into this town that is evident in the way people greet you, as if they truly are glad to have met you. Even my cab driver was so easy going and friendly, even though he is probably gouging me with that 200 pesos taxi fare, that I can't help but appreciate his hospitality.

We passed by the Cebu Convention Center, a stylish new building where the ASEAN summit will be held. The cab driver starts telling about how much the making of the convention center has overrun its budget, bad management, corruption and graft, all the shenanigans that occur in the Philippines. It went in one ear and out the other. At this moment I could care less about Philippine politics, this is not what I'm here for. We finally arrived at my hotel, the Marriott's in Cebu. I checked, went up to my room, took my clothes off, shut the curtains and promptly went to sleep for the rest of the morning.

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