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Published: February 20th 2008
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These Signs Never Cease to Entertain Me
I got lots of stares from Filipinos when I dropped my gigantic bag, dug out my camera and worked the settings around to take this picture. It was quite a production to take a photo of something I must assume is really common around here. There are tons of things that make me laugh to myself here everyday. Considering that it is me sometimes I do actually laugh out loud - which sure makes people on the ever-busy streets look at me funny. Lots of the things I am seeing and experiencing in this first part of my internship are very emotional and upsetting, but at the same time there are also a lot of things that entertain the hell out of me in Manila. I though I would share some of them with you cats at home, so that you can enjoy the cultural learning with me. *smile*
Every organization, company, restaurant and 7/11 has a security guard at their door. Looking very jaunty in their pressed, white, dress shirts with blue braided cords runing under the arms, they all have either hand guns or rifles. At first I found this really shooking. Now that I am used to it though I think of these fellows more as door openers then as threats, since opening doors for people seems to be the bulk of their actual work.
Down the street from me there is a very busy supermakret with a very tiny parking lot. I never see their pudgy, middle aged security guard doing anything other then directing traffic. With stressed creased across his face he blows his whistle with his shirt messy and untucked. But even in this state he continues to wear his automatic riffle slug across his chest.
In many buildings, on the transit system and in malls the security guards search everyones' bags. This is done typically by opening your bag, glancing in and sticking what seem to be thier specially designed sticks inside. The stick is about 8 inches long, cylindrical and gets slightly thicker at one end. It is litterally a fancy dowl. Security guards thrust the stick strait down the middle of your bag and then wave you through. I figure this special stick must be magic. They either have magical bomb detecting powers or the security guards assume that no one would ever keep their bombs against the side of their bags.
People stare at me pretty much where ever I go, even in Manila. Kids shyly smile on jeepneys and yell "Hey Joe" in the streets. Taxis beep at me constantly. Vendors, van-for-rent drivers waiting for passangers, and sometimes even random people in the street say "hello ma'am" and "good morning" to me. I find it really entertaining to feel like celebrity most of the time, without having to have done any work or shown any talent.
Every morning I pass a bakery on my way to my activities, and am greeted everyday with "good morning" by the men who sit outside. A couple of mornings ago I was smoking as I walked by and one of the men yelled "ma'am, ma'am, you know smoking is bad for your health." I think it is awesome that these man have developed a sense of responsibility towards me as their local, community foreigner.
Even I stare sometimes when I see white people now. I am so used to seeing Filipinos all the time that I am surprised when a blond head or white face pops out of the crowd. My first week here I went to a mobilization for agrarian reform and spooted three other white people. I ran into one while I was visiting the Child Rehabilitation Centre, he is a volunteer from Australia. Joking about having seen him at the mobilization he admitted he had also noticed me, and asked if I knew who the tall guy in the brown shorts was. I knew exactly who he was talking about, but admitted that I also did not know who he was. We talked about this guy neither of us knew for 10 minutes. When I was in the urban poor community a popsicle vendor told me that he had seen me at the mobilization and asked me if I knew the Australian guy who was. Last week while I was in Hacienda Luicita two of the community leaders also told me that they recognized me from the mobilization. They knew who the tall guy in the brown shorts was. Today I went to the office of a women's organization that had 3 Belgian interns. They happen to be the three Belgian roommates the Australian guy was talking about. We are all now gong out for drinks on Friday. I am starting to think that there are only a dozen white interns in Manila at all times.
Vendors here sell boiled cobs of corn wrapped in celephane and boiled eggs here on the streets as mid-day snacks.
Public washrooms, whether in offices or in businesses, never have toilet seats, toilet paper, soap or paper towl for drying your hands. That's just the way it is, so I now carry around individual packs of tissue and hand sanitizer like a normal Filipina. But I get really excited, and feel really spoiled, when I am in a public washroom that has any number of those 4 things. A couple of weeks ago I was having breakfast at a Jollibees en route to an activity and was thrilled to discover that their washroom had all 4. I spent 10 minutes using the washroom becuase it was so luxurious. As I was humming to myself excitedly over drying my hands it hit me that I was in Makati, the rich part of town, and so of course the Jollibees would have to have toilet seats, toilet paper, soap and hand towels...
When I arrived in Manila I discovered that there was a Videokee stand rigth across the street from my guesthouse. I did not realize how bad this was until I tried to go to sleep. Videokee is like karaokee, but the screen has a video instead of just words. It is THE most popular pass time in this country. It doesn't involve dancing, it rarely seems to involve drinking, and it doesn't require a bar, people just set up videokee machines in stands in every spare space in every community. Quite literally all people, from the most poor squater communities to people on farms, have a videokee stand within walking distance of their homes. For 5 pesos a song people belt, most often power ballands, into the mike. I have been told that videokee is not about talent, but about confidence and volume. Every night when I am in Manila I struggle to sleep as someone sings Celine Dion love songs loudly in bad english across the street. I am not sure which I hate more, Celine Dion or Videokee.
North American music is really popular here. Walking through the narrow, ad hoc allies of the urban poor communities I was often met by burts of "Beautiful Girls" and "Soldier Boy" from doorways. Rhianna floated across the rice fields at me in the Hacienda on Valentines Day. And in the internet cafe I go to when I want to get away the same 8 guys who are always there playing World of War Craft listen to a strange mixture of country, old pop, soft and alternative rock. On my last trip they listened to some Boys to Men, before switching to Nickleback, before throwing on something that sounded like The Killers and sampled from Winston Churchill speeches. Apparently these young men long for love and also feel the need to "fight them on the beaches".
The transvestites in Manila, of which there are many, are prettier and more believable as any Canadian transvestites I have ever seen. I normally have to work really hard to tell who are "women" and who are women. I find myself thinking about this interesting phenominan a lot, and I think I have discovered their secret. These "women" have soft-looking long hair, precision makeup, right now down to the whitening face powder and very feminim clothing... but they don't have breats! The transvestites make no effort to fake having breats and they come off looking like slightly curvy, flat chested women - instead of like men with-fake-breats-that-accentuate-their-tiny-hips in skirts. Apparently the secret to really looking like a women is not trying so hard to look like a women.
Filipinas eat with their hands about 60% of the time. This makes life easier, especially when you are tring to pick meat off of the bones of tiny milk fish. I have adopted this habit and am applauded by everyone around me for making an effort to really inculturate myself. I thank them, telling them that I am trying as hard as I can to become an honorary Filipina. The secret is that I eat with my hands all the time because being told as a child that it is rude makes it feel wonderfully wicked to do it now.
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I was gretaly entertained by your blog... :)