The Holiday Season

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It's been a while since I've written, not because I haven't had the time, but because my last visit to an Internet cafe was a last-minute excursion. If I hadn't so many emails and messages to respond to, I would have written it there, but the computer access at the base is the only reason I am able to do as much as I do. So this is me pre-writing my blog to recap the past two weeks.

Christmas and New Year's

On December 24th, in the morning, the DTS helped the staff host a Christmas party for HANDS, one of our base’s ministries to help single mothers and of course their children. We had music, dance, games and food, which are pretty much inherent to any organized Filipino celebration, regardless of occasion.

In the evening, we had our own Christmas party. We had a program in which 7 small groups performed a presentation they had created. Although there was no restrictions on what this 'presentation' was to be, I couldn't help but worry that ours was the only funny one. How awkward it would be to totally derail the momentum of powerful drama and singing. But it must have been the word 'presentation' that worried me, because very little of what I can recall was serious. Kuya Owen's "magic show" was an incredibly feeble concept, miraculously electrified by whatever it is that makes kuya Owen get out of hand every time he shows up here. The staff's rendition of the nativity story was a hilariously incoherent parade of markered Spanish moustaches, random rags for garments, human donkeys, and a giant baby who suddenly appeared after an incredibly fruitful 2 seconds of darkness. Kuya Art's family dressed up like rock stars and lip-synced to a song while he jammed unrealistically hard on the thick neck of an acoustic guitar. And I'm convinced our "interpretive dance" was the most out of hand of all of them. The part of our presentation we did plan was that we were going to dance wildly to Chromeo's 'Two Step' and Reggie & The Full Effect's 'Boot to the Moon Wade and Wayne Jentry & Band,' express ourselves therein, and let the music lead us. After all, “life’s a dance, you learn as you go.” I can't remember whether more people laughed or appreciated our dancing, but I imagine more people laughed, which was our entire motive. During the first song, we pulled random people up from their chairs to heat up the dance floor in a chaotic mix of spinning, twirling, waving and flailing. I garnered compliments for a sequence I busted our when I let go in the second song. In retrospect, I'd definitely give us a 0 for effort, but a 5 for heart. Somewhere in the middle of the program, we lost electricity and went straight to eating the array of deliciousness that was laid so vulnerably on the table. After about 5 minutes, the lights came back on and we finished the program.

To end the party there would have been a crime for these people. Instead of shutting her down for the evening, the karaoke machine was set up and nearly everybody had a go at it. I added some personal flare for the kids when I sang 'Frosty the Snowman,' complete with chuckles, "hey kids!" and all sorts of other things that make shows on the Treehouse channel annoying. I left before the karaoke extravaganza was over, because the thought of Christmas back home made me sad and I just wanted to sleep it off. They watched a movie after that.

The 25th was mostly a day of recuperation, which I was very thankful for.

On the 28th, we had a Christmas party at the dumpsite. We sang some Christmas songs, did some skits, played some games with kids that climaxed in ear-piercing cheers from siblings and mothers and gave out food and drinks for the kids. The line-ups were the longest I've seen them yet, and there wasn’t even enough for every one.
We did not go island hopping as previously planned for the 29th, because it was cloudy and raining intermittently. It will happen though.

On New Year's Day in the morning, I went to Emerald Beach, a really nice one located in San Manuel, which is about 25 minutes away. It was still a bit cloudy before breakfast, but I was determined to follow through with my plans to excurse. It's not like rain is cold here anyway, at least not by Canadian standards. So I went by myself to the ocean to relax and get away from constant presence of others. It was during this week that I promised myself at least one day per week free of YWAM and tag-alongs. Two times while riding the tricycles there, I was convinced I was sitting next to the cutest baby in the whole world. For those of you who know what a CBA is, know that my time spent in the city is one continuous CBA. If you don't know, do yourself a favor and don't worry about it. After paying my 20p admission to the Mr. Gatekeeper and talking to him for over an hour about education, politics, economy, and why I was here, he came to be known as "my beach buddy Dave." Making a point to get what I paid for, I headed toward the beautiful beach front for some good ole' frolicking in the vast arms of the salty ocean. It was pretty dead, so I got out my camera and went for a little photo stroll on the sand and into the water. There was so many starfish, especially the small grey-and-whitish kind. In the deeper areas there was also the spiky orange and black kind, which looked much more threatening than they really are. In the early afternoon, I met Racquel, Carmen, Lynette and her boyfriend who were seemingly reigniting their youth by looking for various creatures, just like me. After offering my prized spiky starfish as a viewing, we unofficially joined forces and caught/befriended/be-enemied a sea cucumber, a crab, a brittle fish, some miniature-crab like thing that came in and out of a shell, and some soft oblong worm-like creature that's purpose in life was probably as feeble as it's attempt to escape the palm of Boyfriend's hand. After they left for home, I swam for a bit more and took some more pictures. I went to go talk to Dave for another 30 minutes and then walked to the tricycle stop 20 minutes away. Along the way, I briefly talked to some kid that had been hanging around the admission booth and following me down, all the while trying his hardest not to make it obvious that he somehow liked me. Too bad he was too shy to tell me any more than his name. Anyway, when I arrived in the city at the tricycle terminal, I took another one back home. Since I was feeling a little thirsty, I asked to be dropped off at the sari-sari store instead of at the YWAM 5 minutes ahead. I bought a 355ml of Coca-Cola, which came in the classic glass bottle. This is awesome, except for the fact that the store owners insist they do the recycling. So the lady said, "do you want to drink it right here, or should I transfer it into a plastic." Figuring I didn't want to make a spectacle chugging a Coke at a 4-way intersection in the village, I'd take it in "a plastic." What I was handed was (no joke) a thin plastic sandwich bag of Coke with a straw, which required much more agility than you would imagine to drink from. It's really too bad I met Mr. Sandbar before I had a chance to photograph it. This goes to show this place is still full of surprises for me. Barely had I made a right to go to the base when...

...the man living at the corner of the 4-way who had often greeted me came out of the gate on his yard and told me he wanted me to come and join him and his friends. Though I could tell he was definitely more oiled than normal, I recognized the genuine desire for him to talk to me--perhaps more genuine than ever before, because he clearly had started his New Year's Eve a littler early. To put it bluntly, he was drunk. Regardless, I sat down and talked with him, because he recognized me and made a point to tell me he wanted to talk to me. He introduced me (several times) to two friends, one being the officer of the barangay, who was looking a little buzzed. Of course, we talked about why I was here, what I was doing, etc. I actually answered a few questions they had about what exactly was going down at the compound. Then the host proceeded to tell me about his personal island. This turned out to be a cottage built on a sandbar in the ocean, 10 minutes by motor-bangka from the shore of Dos Palmas, a beach too premium for anyone but rich Europeans to experience (admission is approx. $20CAD). He showed me a series of pictures of his son, an American friend and he in scuba gear, at the cottage/sandbar/island. This guy was not lying. He told me about two Americans who lived at his house for 3 years while serving in the Peace Corp., and that if I ever met them I should tell them where he was living now. It was this good experience he had with the Americans, I guess, that made him offer several times "if you ever want to go to my island, just let me know. No charge for you, my friend." And at the very least, in that moment of stupor, he meant it. Of course he offered me some sort of seafood that he just called "shell," which was un-chewable and un-tasty at best, and he offered me a shot of cheap domestic gin, which I kindly refused. He told me if YWAM or I had any problems, I should just go talk to him (he used to be a member of the barangay council) or the officer of the barangay (whose drooping head and unresponsiveness a minute later foreshadowed a severe hangover). They told me their names, but because I am bad with names I forgot them. I left after about half and hour with some good connections and offers. Who knows if they could still remember what they said and who they said it through the aftermath of New Year's Eve, but I'd like to think I'll find Mr. Sandbar again in a better, more coherent state and have some more conversations with him, maybe even figure out his name. We'll see what happens.

Later on that night, near the stroke of midnight, we had a bit of a midnight feast with all sorts of tasty foods, and we watched a movie after that. I don't think I've ever experienced a noisier New Year's then what we made it. In the first second of the New Year, we beat pots and pans and chairs and tables and blew horns and lit firecrackers, and were probably created the most aggravating scene I could have imagined. Sweet!

I was highly considering joining some other classmates the following morning on another trip to the beach. I ended up staying at home, resting and drinking water in effort to qualm what felt and acted exactly like stomach flu. It was a pretty low-key New Years Day for me.

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