Like Clockwork

I am seriously sad I forgot to put photos on my flash drive to send you in the internet cafe. I'll do it tonight so I'll be prepared the next chance I get.

I'm currently in Tangos, Navotas. It's on the coast of Manila Bay, just north of metro Manila. And I'm finally settling into something approaching a daily routine. Of course, Sunday I'll be moving on, but at least I can count on relative (very relative) sanity until then. My days look something like this: I wake up at 6:30, wander to the bathroom, and stand for a good ten seconds holding a bucket of cold water over my head debating whether or not I really want to be that cold and that wet all at once. Two weeks of that hasn't made the debate any less intense. But the fact that the day before I sweated out of every pore and walked through who knows what and shook who knows how many people's hands always convinces me that it's worth the momentary discomfort (ok, it lasts the whole shower). Devotions and prayer for awhile. Then my host mother tries to convince me to eat and drink anything she can. Bread and cheese are favorites (I'm American, and it's American cheese... I have to like it!) pineapple, mango, coffee, taful (sp? which is amazing, by the way... like really soft, sweet oatmeal). I battle her attempts as best I can because then I get fed breakfast (rice, eggs, sausage) once I make it to church. At some point I get abandoned for about 20 minutes with no instructions (I'm learning to always have a book handy). Eventually I start interviewing people which is anywhere from wildly entertaining, to incredibly informative, to heartbreaking, to just plain painful as we struggle through language barriers. At some point they hit me with a snack. And then lunch (rice, chicken, veggie). And then more interviews and being abandoned in intervals. Marienda (afternoon snack, today a sandwhich... and then bread later... but this is only because I'm American, otherwise it wouldn't be bread). At some point I go to visit the community. I get my own personal entourage of about 7 Philipino women who form a protective clump around me at all times. This must look hysterical, especially when they make me where the rubber boots while they all have flip flops on. I wouldn't know, and the Philipinos all seem too busy staring at me to notice the overall humor in the situation. I get taken into the craziest back alleys of the craziest squatter towns and shanties in existence, shake some hands, mumble out hellos and thank yous in my broken tagalog and get some photos (seriously, I am sorry I don't have them). At some point or points through the day, I find a computer and write out the stories I am hearing in interviews, though I confess my writing could use some improvement. And then I get dinner (rice, fish, veggies). This week dinner looks to be followed, or sometimes preceded, by Bible studies in the communities. And then I head home, my host mom shoves some more bread and fruit at me, and I collapse into bed after uploading my photos to the laptop.

Like I said, this is bound to change everywhere I go. But at least it's somewhat consistent for the next 4 days or so. Also, you've got to understand that this all takes place within a very rigourous schedule that has been written out for me, but which seems to get abandoned at a moments notice. And being "on time" can either mean really early, or really late, or exactly on time for some reason. Mostly, I've given up paying attention.