A sort of homecoming: The Philippines

Philippines: Manila (Dec. 10-12), Ilo Ilo/ Boracay (Dec. 12-19), Manila (Dec. 19-27)


This special journey began a long time ago, much further back than when I climbed into a Bangkok cab for the airport. This trip began in 1938 in the municipality of Calinog, provincial Philippines, where my dad was born amid the heat of the landlocked tropics and the threat of invasion from Japan. But through time, chance (and a handsome young Filipino doctor meeting a young Minnesota farm nurse), I grew up in the middle of America and had little true knowledge of this third-world country in which my dad had spent his first 30 or so years. With the curiosity of a child still, I met some extended family at Manila Airport and awaited my 2 brothers and mom to arrive from the chill of America. It was a first homecoming for us together; it was also the place where my own mother had moved to marry. Even before I arrived, throughout Southeast Asia I had felt a kinship with the scrawny, squatting, brown-skinned people of this region of the world- whether it be my love of rice, my Filipino flat nose or the blood of the hot tropics- I am not sure. I was anxious to see how things had gone for the past 13 years since my last visit in this adopted homeland. And so, with a bit of nervousness, excitement and melancholy, I searched the crowds of the waiting area of the Manila airport for my cousins.

One of the first things that I was reminded of is how Filipinos host people- with the kindest open arms, a deep respect (hand of elders to your forehead).. and a ton of food -- always to include rice! Upon arrival, our Aunt and Uncle Cartera gave us the obligation of filling up on a huge meal of pancit, barbeque, spring rolls, adobo, rice (of course) and San Miguel, the top Filipino beer. There was much bantering into the night as my mom recalled her early days of marriage on the streets of Manila some 40 years ago- mornings of pandesol, afternoons of chaos and evenings figuring out my grandmother with my father. During our first full day there, we hit the mall (a Filipino favorite) for another gigantic meal with extended family and saw some of the sights of Manila- Rizal Park, Intramuros and Ft. Benefacio. That night, we got to see some live music on Roxas Ave with our cousin, Tippee, and enjoy a few more San Miguels around Malati.

As I think about describing the Philippines, the jitney (the most popular form of transport in this crowded country) is a small capsule of the culture. Jitneys are colorful hybrids of trucks and buses that are driven by private owners and used like a bus system. Like the Filipino people, they are colorful (each one is decorated differently), crowded, hot, filled with friendly chatter, requires a bit of negotiating based on where you are going; most have stickers proclaiming their faith in God as they drive in chaos, they have to deal with the traffic, smog and heat, but they continue on throughout the city, the country and throughout the year. And such are the Filipinos: lovers of life, deeply religious, and resilient to withstand the heat and traffic.

But the final leg of the journey ‘home’ was another flight to Ilo Ilo and on to Calinog, the small municipality where my Aunt Guia still lives and where my dad grew up. It’s a small town with no stop light where most people still farm in the oppressive heat to make ends meet. My brothers soon got to experience what I did last time: an introduction to many people who were ‘cousins’, ‘uncles’ and ‘aunts’- the Filipino family is extended much more than the American family. We really enjoyed chatting with them and trying to figure out the culture, like why they eat rice for every meal or play basketball in flip-flops (I’m still amazed at that one). I got to introduce to my brothers as well to Southeast Asian bathrooms, in which you had to scoop water into the toilet bowl and shower from a bucket, which I had become somewhat accustomed to.

We did take an excursion to head to Boracay, the tropical island paradise of the Philippines (the best in the world according to the Filipinos . It was much more built up than last time I had been there with a full strand of hotels, beach bars and restaurants to rival any in Southeast Asia. But Boracay was also recovering from a typhoon so most places were running on a generator and there was a lot of repair work being done. And, man, was it hot- especially when they wouldn’t allow the AC to run from 8am to 5pm (the typical time when I would have a hangover). Boracay is stunningly beautiful: the sand is soft and white, the water a pure blue and a nicely established restaurant scene against the backdrop of the beach. I have always thought that you are doing something right if your toes can feel the soft sand while you dine. The night life was great as well at places like Cocomanga’s but the hangovers a bit worse with the roosters and lack of AC!

Back in Calinog, the pace slowed down quite a bit and we all got to settle in to provincial Filipino life: early mornings, strolling around the market, playing hoops with the kids who wore no shoes, eating gigantic meals (this has to change!) and trying to expand my Visayan vocabulary beyond ‘mayaong aga’ (good morning). But mostly we soaked in the culture and reflected on life back when my dad grew up. I sure it was a humorous memory for my aunt, being ‘interrogated’ by me asking her questions about things around the Philippines- much the way she said my dad did, but always in a teasing tone that seemed to make her smile. My Tita Guia also threw us a party after church Sunday morning and we chatted with the extended family, made my brother Mark sing, drank San Miguel and heard stories about Tito Monet, the nickname of my dad. A few days, we make the pilgrimage to Ilo Ilo, the ‘big’ city of the island, and went to SM, the big, air-conditioned shopping area for a break from the sweltering heat outside.

To my eye, however, little had changed in the past decade- the slow pace of life in Calinog, the chaos of Manila, the poverty around and the seemingly constant toil of the Filipinos. I did get a better sense this time of the history of the Filipinos and their struggles with the Spanish, Americans and Japanese in WWII before their own political struggles of the past century. The Filipinos are some of the warmest people I have been around this entire year and are working incredibly hard for a better life but progress seems to be another political promise away. This country is in my blood and I couldn’t help but think of my own father- running around the streets of Calinog, around the port in Ilo Ilo and in the halls of Santo Tomas in Manila. It was also very interesting to look through old photos of my grandparents from when my dad was also a youth with a full head of hair and a gleam in his eye. I smiled and laughed and felt a tinge of loss thinking of his memory but felt only positive feelings in being back to his home.

After a final night of celebration back in Manila for my mom and brother Matt at Auntie Bening’s house with more cousins, they pushed off to the states and Mark and I got to spend a full day and night in Greenbelt, the posh area of Makati- we got to order off the menu and be American gringos for a night on the town, which was fun. And I spent the final week, including Christmas, with my Aunt Guia at our relatives, the Carteras. This time was filled with again eating too much, shopping at places like Mall of Asia (biggest in Asia) and listening to children carol in the streets. I even attended mass twice that week and thought that someone above must be either smiling or laughing. During this final week, I got a deeper appreciation for the Philippines as I went on walks and managed on my own through Quezon City, Makati and Paranque City after our trip to Tagaytay. While I continued on to Thailand and further south, this seemed to clinch the year a bit for me- spending quality time with family back in a homeland of sorts, putting some work into practice with the foundation and really connecting back to my roots.

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