A Change of Pace

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Warning: Due to the fact that not much happened physically, I will probably talk a lot about what happened in my brain (don't worry, there's always something going on in my brain). Usually I save this for my personal blog, but I need some material, and if what it spits out doesn't scare you away, you will at least know me better. Consider my openness a treat.

I don't have much to write. Sorry to any faithful readers, who are either living vicariously through me, enjoy a story or two a week, or just want to know what I am up to. Sorry if I end up writing two pages about having nothing to write.

Last weekend was low key: the city, church in the dumpsite, buko acquisition (young coconut), and hang out at the base. I would have gone to the beach or something had I not ill-scheduled my time. Most people know that you just need to kick it back for a day and rest. Most people. But no matter how revitalizing two days can be, I feel like I'm missing out on something awesome, somewhere. Not only that, but I find going to the beach or the city alone just as revitalizing. I don't find just a quiet day at home on the weekend to make me feel good though, just lazy. As you may have heard me say before, if your entire week is spent working for the weekend and your entire weekend is spent recuperating for work, then we might as well throw in our cards now. Life was designed by God to be enjoyable, not a cursed perpetual pursuit of days ahead. Work to relax, relax to work, work to relax, relax to work, work to re...I've been there before.

It’s come to my mind a few times since I arrived that I have absolutely no clue what I’m going to do after DTS. To some people, this is a scary concept. Even for me, who most of you know as an adventurer, it wasn’t easy; quitting my job meant saying goodbye to a lot of friends, leaving my apartment meant no place to come back to, a one way ticket to the third world meant I might never come back, and a long-term absence meant when I came back I would have to start all over. But it was necessary, I tell you. Necessary for me in order to escape the monotonous cycle I felt I was living from weekdays to weekends; necessary for me to get back out on the open road and find that fork in the road that I had stopped believing in; and necessary to figure out who and what I am. I used to think that after I come back, I would know exactly what to do and will never again have to make a choice about life. But I’m realizing more each day that we can only know more about ourselves and make life’s decisions a little easier by that. Shane Claiborne wrote “in a second of hesitation, the world is pregnant with possibilities. After all, the gift of free will is perfect by design. If we chose to rid ourselves of it, it’d fly back in our faces.

In 4 weeks, we are "going to the mountains." In Canada, "going to the mountains" is usually a vague reference to vacation in Banff or skiing on the West coast. But for us it means a 9-hour ride packed like sardines into a bus which does little to soften the all-terrain routes that we call roads, a night in a mostly Muslim tribal barangay called Ransang, and then a climatic 7-hour hike up the actual mountains wearing our large backpacks. Our purpose: outreach. Our destination: an indigenous tribe. I have fantasized about meeting indigenous people for at least 3 years, and what I hear about the place seems more than fulfilling. Obviously it won’t be all fun and games, which I am prepared for. I'll save the juicy details for another blog before or after my experience.

In order to prepare for my upcoming trek, I started to train my legs. On Tuesday, Joel and I took a run to Hunda Bay, a fishing port and community not too far away. We sat and enjoyed the view before going to his uncle's house for some water, and then running back to the base. I was fortunate to meet the "schools-out!" rush in Santa Lourdes. This wouldn't have been such a big deal if I wasn't white. But being white makes people say "hi" and wave, often only once you've passed them. To satisfy them, I turn around and say "hi." But if that single brave guy or girl gets that greeting, their friend tries to get one too. And when you're at an intersection with 5 or 6 groups in view, it gets a bit hectic to return the greetings. Of course, questions like "where did you come from" and "where are you going", which are not as inquisitive of a location as to why I am where I am, are thrown into the mix. Younger kids like to ask my name. When they greet me in English, I usually respond to them in Tagalog, which causes about 5 seconds of silence before they resume in Tagalog. Before we were back, we stopped in to play some basketball with high school kids at the local court (basketball courts are pretty central to barangays). When walking home from the local sari-sari stores, feeling slightly dejected by the lack of Globe load for my cell phone, I again stopped in for a game of B-ball. It’s good to know a few names and faces before this Friday, when we will be doing outreach at the school.

Edit: As I write this, I reflect on my outreach at school. It started out decent until I was told that some people wanted to talk to me. Figuring I might as well satisfy whoever asked for me, I went. For the next 45 minutes I was being hit on by 12 teenage girls. It was kind of fun and good to hear compliments, but it was pretty awkward that they were practically standing in a circle around me. This situation would have been great if I was a rich and desperate white man literally browsing for a wife, but I am only white.

There seems to be a lot of people who think I only went here to find a wife. I thank those who see that as kind of weird for not saying that to my face, because I also think that it would be kind of weird. I also thank those who supported the idea and just wanted me to be happy. But somewhere, people put the wrong facts together. People began to think Filipinas were my motive for learning Tagalog and attending parties, and my eventual venture out to the Philippines. In reality, it all started out with language. And what better country to go to Discipleship Training School in then the one you can speak some of the language of? Don’t get me wrong, I fantasized about this place long before I planned to go to DTS, and I have been very, very desperate in my lifetime, but I’ve always been desperate for someone special, never whatever I could get. I have never changed my search criteria from ‘genuine, unique, interesting and able to understand me’ to ‘Filipina and single.’ If so many once-madly-in-love marriages end in divorce, how much more would a relationship based on race? It has only been a hope of mine that I will eventually find someone who is an adventure; who is never completely predictable and will teach me something new every day. There’s not a day that goes by here in which I do not wish I were in love, but that’s been my story for the last 3 years, and I’m definitely not interested in something temporary and flaky.

I went for a photo-walk through Santa Lourdes yesterday, and ending up talking to a community development officer for the city of Puerto Princesa for a while, and his two kids were absolutely adorable and friendly. On my way to the highway, some kids from the dumpsite saw me bushwacking beside the river beside the road and asked amongst themselves, ‘is that kuya Quincy?’ Of course they were too shy to say much when I climbed up the slope and said yes, but it’s really encouraging to know that people in this place are starting to know my name. Do I deserve all of this?

A few things I miss right now that come to mind are: holidays with the family, ‘going for coffee’ with Alan, all-nighters with the once-Fearless Foursome (and company), life chats and chai with Daylon, nachos and a movie with Darcen and Feleana, the Codename guys, FUBAR with Brett, the Pinoy barkada, my guitars, and my bed. As much as it sucks being so far away from these, it feels good to genuinely miss them and strengthen myself in the process.

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