A Heart for Two Worlds
It has been warm these past few days with temperatures flirting with the upper 80’s (around 30-31C). With the humidity factored in along with that post I did a couple days ago, I found myself yearning to return to the Philippines. Truthfully, I haven’t spent that much of my life there. Totaled up, my time would probably be a little over a year and a half. Still, I consider that place my second home. Don’t get me wrong, Michiana will always be home to me no matter where I go. But another part of me exists on the other side of the globe. Every time I see the setting sun set, I also see it as a rising sun. I wonder what the new day will be like for my distant relatives. Then I wish that I could be there to see for myself.
Since Nanay’s death, there hasn’t been a real reason for me to go back. At least that’s what I told myself. What’s left of my mother’s family seems so removed from my life that they might as well be strangers. Still, there’s some kind of blood bond and I think that as long as my aunts and uncles still live, I have a connection. But even if that wasn’t true, I have fallen in love with that area. I miss the people and the crowds. I miss taking the jeepney because there’s no way in hell that I’d drive myself. I want to eat some of that roasted corn and try that nasty looking drink. I want my ice cream in a hamburger bun. I want to pretend that I am disappointed that I can’t find shoes in my size or that my Australian steak isn’t as good as Iowa’s. I want to buy movies in the supermarket before they’re even released in American theaters and to swim in the South China Sea, risking an encounter with the seaweed I am allergic to. I miss traveling around with a backpack containing a roll of toilet paper and a small can of Lysol because I don’t know how to use the water bucket and ladle, and sometimes my ability to hover fails. I relish being hated because I’m an American not because I’m a Republican. I get kick when most Filipinos know that I’m an American yet the Mormon missionaries think I’m a Filipino. And I want to embarrass myself as I try to communicate in Tagalog, always finding a way to mess it up. I miss it all and I want to do it all again.
There are only two places outside the United States that are on my to-visit list. When the time is right, the first place I am going to visit will be the Philippines. London is on plan for 2012 but I suppose that might be scrapped depending on how further the dollar is going to slide. When I go back to the Philippines, though, I also plan on doing the things that I wished I had done the last time I was there. It involves a lot of hiking and a lot of swimming. I plan to still be young enough to get through it okay. Until then, I will have to settle for what the United States has to offer and that’s quite enough to keep me busy.
Since Nanay’s death, there hasn’t been a real reason for me to go back. At least that’s what I told myself. What’s left of my mother’s family seems so removed from my life that they might as well be strangers. Still, there’s some kind of blood bond and I think that as long as my aunts and uncles still live, I have a connection. But even if that wasn’t true, I have fallen in love with that area. I miss the people and the crowds. I miss taking the jeepney because there’s no way in hell that I’d drive myself. I want to eat some of that roasted corn and try that nasty looking drink. I want my ice cream in a hamburger bun. I want to pretend that I am disappointed that I can’t find shoes in my size or that my Australian steak isn’t as good as Iowa’s. I want to buy movies in the supermarket before they’re even released in American theaters and to swim in the South China Sea, risking an encounter with the seaweed I am allergic to. I miss traveling around with a backpack containing a roll of toilet paper and a small can of Lysol because I don’t know how to use the water bucket and ladle, and sometimes my ability to hover fails. I relish being hated because I’m an American not because I’m a Republican. I get kick when most Filipinos know that I’m an American yet the Mormon missionaries think I’m a Filipino. And I want to embarrass myself as I try to communicate in Tagalog, always finding a way to mess it up. I miss it all and I want to do it all again.
There are only two places outside the United States that are on my to-visit list. When the time is right, the first place I am going to visit will be the Philippines. London is on plan for 2012 but I suppose that might be scrapped depending on how further the dollar is going to slide. When I go back to the Philippines, though, I also plan on doing the things that I wished I had done the last time I was there. It involves a lot of hiking and a lot of swimming. I plan to still be young enough to get through it okay. Until then, I will have to settle for what the United States has to offer and that’s quite enough to keep me busy.
Comments
Of course, they're all ludicrously behind schedule, the plans for all have been "scaled back" to be more "realistic", and it's already said to be five times overbudget.
We don't know just how far overbudget it all really is because...the government refuses to tell us! And so do the various companies doing the building work.
The newspapers are pretending to be surprised at all this.
As for the Philipines, I'm afraid all I know about them is:
* Imelda Marcos and her shoe collection
* Cori Aquino being hogtied by the World Bank
* Manila
* Tagalog
* Milkfish
* A government trying to reduce the level of sex tourism - but not trying too hard because it brings in a lot of money, which they need.
...so a blog of David's travels in and reflections upon the Philipines would be very interesting. And surely wanting to go is reason enough to go?