A Brief History Lesson
The Philippines was colonized by Spain in the 16th century. In 1565, the first Spanish settlement to the Philippines began with Miguel López de Legazpi’s expedition, establishing the first permanent San Miguel settlement in the island of Cebu (perhaps why modern day Philippines produces San Miguel beer, and the San Miguel company currently produces Philippines’ most popular beer of choice, Red Horse). One of Spain’s main goals was to spread Christianity to the islands and thus why Catholicism is the predominant religion of the Philippines, and the third largest Catholic nation in the world, preceding Brazil and Mexico.
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We ascend the steps towards the majestic Catholic church and I past the angel statues. I wonder about things like angels and if they even exist. And then I realize that they do exist; in our minds. Candles are lit everywhere in remembrance of loved ones who have passed. The ritual, as I stare at the flickering flames, is something foreign to me. As my family hands me a candle, I try not to look completely clueless. When in Rome…
I find an empty candle spot and light it using another candle’s flame nearby. I say a silent prayer for my lola (grandma) who died of ovarian cancer after I visited the summer of my freshman year of high school. You don’t just forget things like that. How happy she looked when she greeted me, everyday. As if she hadn’t just seen me the day before. The way she would always wake me up and say “good morning my pretty little rose bud”. The way her smile lit up the room with her young-at-heart youthfulness. She never let on that she was hurting, when the cancer spread. She always looked so happy to see me…
I made the sign of the cross like a good little Catholic girl. But I haven’t been Catholic since I was 10 and stopped going to church. Like my lost language, my lost religion, now since foreign to me, is something I sometimes wish I were a part of. Guilty that I’m not. Sometimes, I feel like I’m dishonoring my heritage by not being Catholic, but then I remember that Catholicism is borrowed from Spain’s culture, and then I don’t feel so bad. I’m only as pinoy (Filipino) as the blood rushing through my veins. But I know I am an outsider here, in my own homeland, and I don’t want to make it even more obvious by telling my family I’m not Catholic. (When in Rome…)
These days, I align much more closely with Buddhism. But even I feel disassociated from the label because I don’t feel I’m a very good Buddhist. I hardly meditate. I eat meat. I kill bugs. I don’t live in the present moment most the time. Which brings me back to Catholicism. I can’t escape that good old Catholic Guilt. Guilty that I am not Catholic, like every other Filipino, it seems. I’m not “Buddhist enough”, and I’m not “Catholic enough”, so I can’t be bound in boxes.
There are remnants in me. This Catholic birth. Even though the religion seems so strange, and Lent hasn’t carried over to my yearly life rituals, I can’t escape the guilt.
I am a free-spirit and a freethinker. I am independent. All my life, I have been a rebel, a heretic, in more ways than one. I have called God (Personified) a fairy as fake as Santa Claus and then believed in a higher force that I eventually felt comfortable enough calling “God”. It’s a struggle to be different, and non-traditional. To dare to explore the world when everyone is telling me I should be settling down, have a boyfriend. I did that for five years and it didn’t work for me; even had my own house and dog. Sans the wedding ring (thank God), I was as “settled” as they get. I knew I was too free-spirited to be bound in boxes.
It’s like taking the red pill or blue pill. All my life, I’ve felt guilty for not believing in God, and then guilty for not having a religion. Guilty for not fitting the American Dream. Despite the challenges, I wouldn’t have it any other way, even if I could banish this guilt away by being more conventional. Challenge is what keeps the process (life) interesting. And when I think of that–that I am living life exactly the way I’m meant to, and trusting my heart and intuition–the guilt goes away.
I write a lot of how to articles as a freelance writer. Stuff like how to finger your girlfriend, how to run a 5k race, and how to french kiss. Oh what? Yeah, I write for a men’s website. So when the topic of fluency at Sunday Scribblings came about, I automatically started writing a how to…
It’s no surprise that learning a language in your adulthood is a lot tougher on your memory and brain than learning a language in your childhood. It takes extra work and determination but it can be done. The best thing is to acclimate yourself in the culture. It’s not enough to be in the country, because talking in English and hanging out with ex-pats isn’t going to do the trick. Acclimation means conversing with the locals, and trying out conversational language so you can learn words and sentence structures.
Growing up in the USA as the only Asian kid, it was easy to learn English as my second language. Unfortunately, that meant forgetting my Filipino dialect, Cebuano. My mom spoke English in the house and I quickly had no use for my native language. All that I learned in the first four years of my life was gone.
Visiting the Philippines has helped some. In the six times that I have come to visit, for five to eight weeks at a time starting at the age of eight, I have picked up vocabulary. I’ve always been too shy to make a fool of myself by trying to actually speak the language so the words that I picked up never went very far. Each time I visited, I’d learn new words and seem to remember the ones I already knew.
It is exactly one month that I’ve been in the Philippines, and I am staying here for at least a year. Already, I am conversing in full sentences and understanding more than not. My sentences are getting easier but I am not fluent. I still have to think more than I would speaking English, but I am trying to speak as much Cebuano as I possibly can. Similarly, my family talks to me mostly in the dialect.
Best of all, it no longer seems like I’m making a fool of myself when trying to speak in Cebuano. Slowly, but surely, I’m getting it. And when I come back to the states, I’m making my mom talk to me in Cebuano.
Learning a language in adulthood takes practice, repetition and dedication. Being able to converse every day will help your language comprehension improve greatly. With tenacity and a willingness to learn, you can pick up a language and become fluent in a couple years.
This post is part of Lilu’s awesomely bad TMI Thursdays. Click her link for more good stories.
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So in the Philippines, there is a delicacy called balut that is a fertilized duck egg with embryo. That is to say: baby duck fetus. Say it with me one more time, boys and girls!
BABY DUCK FETUS!
Like, zOMG!!!1
How the heck do you EAT that thing!? I show you how in three easy steps! Look below for answers! Keep in mind that everyone was watching me as I made this video (and by everyone I mean my tito, tita (uncle, aunt) neighbor boy, cousins and a girl that works with my family), and it was a little embarrassing but what can I say, I have no shame! And I’m a good sport. Now, who wants to hire me for the Amazing Race? Which may or may not have anything to do with this video, because I’m unfamiliar with the format of the show (I don’t watch much TV, ok? Even in America.) and have no idea if they eat gross things as part of their challenges but I know it has to do with foreign cultures, and that’s kind of cool, and terrifying.
Third time’s the charm, right!? *bats eyelashes*
Or, I’m just charming?
So, what was my secret in swallowing this thing? Most people would probably try to think of their favorite food and how yummy it is to get past the mental block. Nope. Not me. I think of the grossest thing possible. Something I enjoy swallowing that I have on rare occasion (balut IS a delicacy after all!). I think of swallowing cum. Male semen. Cum in my mouth. Swallow!
Lets look at the similarities shall we?
Both are excellent sources of protein. Who needs a protein shake when you have _________? [Fill in the blank with BALUT or CUM]
Both have interesting textures. Just get OVER it!
Both are swallowed, and not chewed. Technically, you can chew balut, but I swallow!
The appreciation for both cum and balut is very subjective. Both are an acquired taste!
There’s a whole technique for eating it. I’ve likely made up my own technique but… That’s what she said!
Both are gross, but satisfying! Seriously. I love me some cum in my mouth. Oops, did I type that out loud? At least I know I’m not a lesbian. I love cock too much.
For the record, my family does not eat balut. So the fact that I did, and on more than one occasion, really tickled them! All the weird faces I was making as I stared into the poor bird’s face and made gross faces at the clearly distinct skeletal vertebrae… lets just say they were laughing in front of my face and NOT behind my back!
In all seriousness, I DID think of cum to get past the mental road block. I think it’s the only way I could have swallowed that shit. It’s the grossest thing I could think of; but I LOVE it!
I wonder what boys would think if I chased their stuff with Coke? That’s what I want to know!
I am part of Matt Chevy’s Life Without Pants project, The Epiphany Moment! Check out the other videos on his website.
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I recorded this video 5 months ago and it’s funny what can happen in nearly half a year:
I got fired from a job that I hated. I was planning to quit anyway, due to my travel plans, but they fired me a month before I had planned to throw in the towel. I have never gone into detail of this moment in my life because I didn’t want to write about my work life in a negative manner. The situation is far enough removed from my life now that I feel I can elaborate more. As a graphic designer, my career path has been shaky. I felt that I wasn’t utilizing my degree and wasting away in a dead-end job worst than Kinkos. It’s a bit like designing the Yellow Pages, except I was “designing” hospital forms. In addition, I was managing a one-woman print shop for a good portion of a year before the company hired on an assistant. I learned administrative duties, bookkeeping and customer service; I did it all, but as a graphic designer, I felt I was severely lacking on portfolio building work. In retrospect, I am glad to have had the experience because as often is the case in the corporate world, it helped set me up for my next stage in life as I attempt self-employment.
I made a (more or less) career switch. I am now self-employed, and loving it! I am a social media writer/blogger updating Twitter and Facebook accounts and blogging for company accounts. I don’t consider myself “successful”, in the traditional sense of the word. I make enough to sustain myself in Asia but less than half the amount I made at my previous job. I see myself less as an “entrepreneur” and more as a “hustler” at this stage of my career but as soon as I can get more clients things may change. I’d love to tie this all back with my design skills somehow, but right now, I’m enjoying my time as a writer.
I moved to Asia. I didn’t end up volunteering in the Himalayas of India like I had mentioned on the video. Last minute organization changes with my volunteer program had me placed in and around New Delhi, India, but I have loved every second of it. I currently live with my family in Cebu, Philippines. I’m not sure what I’m hoping to get out of this whole experience, specifically, but that’s the fun in the journey. I hope to travel to other Asian countries during this year, but have no formalized plans. I hope to live a sustainable, location independent freelance career by the end of the year, and have enough money/income by the time I return to the states to move to San Francisco (ish), California!
If you can follow your heart, you can do anything, and I am proof of that. Dream big, and live the life you want, right now!
I saw my friend the other night walking towards the town plaza; the equivalent of “downtown” where young people hang out during the daytime, and after hours.
Asa ka? (Where are you going?) I asked. Mg suroy suroy. (Just hanging out.) Kuyog ko? (Can I come?)
She told me no! That my family will get mad if I go out at night and maybe next time in the morning we can hang out. My heart sunk a little as I realized she was more right than wrong. At least the whole exchange was in Filipino, and I’m slowly getting it.
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The first week I got here, I got a call from my tito (uncle) in New Jersey that I haven’t talked to in over ten years. He told me never go out by myself, especially at night. I might get kidnapped. As a 5’1″ solo female traveler, I am not immune to worst case scenarios, despite my sometimes foolish and invincible mentality, but how do you live it up in a foreign country when your family won’t let you do anything on your own?
Losing My Independence
Despite my one-way ticket, and boarding the planes on my own, I didn’t come here to be independent. I knew that. I was bracing myself for the Asian Community model and way of life. Living it, however, is far harder than I imagined it to be.
Sure, I am learning tight-knit family values; something I never really had. But I am losing a sense of independence that is affecting my self esteem. I have become a boring homebody when I should be exploring my surroundings, meeting new people, and making new friends. I’ve noticed my inner dialogue has been more negative than it’s been in months. Mainly: I’m lame. I’m pathetic. I’m dumb. Repeat this mantra enough times and I just might dig a new hole for myself. I feel so cooped up that it’s slowly driving me insane. I live too much of my life in my head.
Change of Perspective
Rough start aside, I’ll be darned if I let this get to me! What I need is a change of perspective. I’ve been here nearly one month and it’s safe to say that I’m being a bit too hard on myself for the things I have not done. Those tight-knit family values? It’s kinda awesome. It feels nice having little cousins that look up to me, genuinely enjoy talking to me (in English!), and ask me for video game advice when we play RPG games. One day, we spent the whole afternoon looking up YouTube videos and singing along together. In fact, it’s one of their favorite things ever. These moments, as simple as they are, are what gives my life new meaning: the ability to connect with my family that I was afraid had forgotten me or wouldn’t like me.
I’ve always thought about the work/personal life balance and its significance to your everyday life. Work gives me that sense of independence and personal accomplishment that satisfies my need to make a mark. Even just the simple act of applying to new freelance opportunities makes me feel better about myself. But personal life? That’s something to cherish.
The older I get, the more I feel that family building (immediate, nuclear, romantic) and friend cultivating, in short: Community Building are the things that really matter in life. The rest are just a means to an end. Living it up means laughing hard, interacting with my family, visiting my friends, and smiling big. It doesn’t have to mean hiking to the tops of mountains, or soaking in white sand beaches. At times, I have to remind myself that I didn’t come here to be a tourist, I came here to be with my family and learn the language.
Despite my traditional-sounding ideologies (which, in all honesty, kind of freak me out because I am so far from being a traditional woman), I still live life with a sense of adventure. I still want to experience new things, travel to new places, and see the world. Rest assured, I will climb to tops of mountains and soak in white sand beaches. It’s just a matter of time. One month down, eleven (plus?) more to go.
