It’s All Good

7-11
So I’ve officially passed halfway point here in the Philippines. And somehow, just like running the marathon, once I crossed halfway everything seemed so much better. There’s something about having less road ahead of me than behind that makes me happy. It also might have something to do with the sheer awesomeness of the past 24 hours or so. I’d love to explain in detail, but I think I could write a book, so I will attempt to be brief.

Group interviews ended up being really great. The Tibag center is quite new, so no one person seemed to have much to say, but having them in a group meant that didn’t matter as much. Talking to 6-10 mothers at once seemed to give them all a little more courage to talk to me as well as sparked some good discussion. So while I won’t be able to write about one mother/family/child and their experience, I probably wouldn’t have found a family with a compelling enough story anyways, so group interviews ended up working great.

At some point on Tuesday I got a text from Pastor Manny asking me to come to his house for a farewell party thrown by the youth of his church for me. I’ve got to admit, I was a little surprised, as I had only gotten to hang out with them once, but I wasn’t going to turn down a party. And it was wonderful. The family had done their best to cook me American food, and done a decent job. Funny that I ate the Americanized meal with my hands, Filipino style, but everyone agreed it would be fitting for my last meal. And any meal I can get with salad here is a good meal. This was followed by ice cream (which I had not realized I missed), gift giving, and farewells. The gifts were an interesting mix of sweet (a Tagalog Bible and a bag of pandisal) and, um, interesting (soap). The farewells were taken quite seriously, but were actually quite fun. It’s always good to chat with some people my own age. I road back in to Pastor Buddy’s on Pastor Manny’s motorbike, quite content and excited for the next day. Then we spent a good hour texting people and debating when I would be leaving on Wednesday. Oi.

Wednesday came, and it was Pastor Buddy’s wife’s birthday. So I got to go with their family and Pastor Armand to a “resort” to go swimming for the morning. And I got to play with their super-cute 2-year old in the pool. And as I swam under coconut trees enjoying the cool water and the tropical birds all I could think was wow. It was really incredible. Then I headed out, got picked up by Pastor Manny (are you confused by all the pastors yet?) and headed towards Manila to get picked up. Again, more texting and confusion, but at one point Chill texted me that Paula would be coming to get me. Part of me got really excited at the prospect of seeing another white face.

No joke, since I last saw Paula something like 3 weeks ago, I have not seen another white person. Sometimes I forget I am white. I look in the mirror and am a little surprised by my own reflection. And really, that’s pretty trivial compared with just not having another American to talk to. It’s probably been the most challenging part of the whole trip. Whenever I am frustrated (say, by being asked “it is ok?” a hundred times) I’ve got no one to vent to. My confusion, frustration, emotions, thoughts, etc. just kind of build up, and there’s really no one to talk to about it. So let’s just say the 20 minutes or so Paula and I had on the train together were a huge blessing. I think I processed more in those 20 minutes than I have in a week.

I seriously feel much better having had that conversation, and I even realized a few things. Like why I count down to getting on the plane instead of getting back to PA or even back to AZ. One thing I miss perhaps most of all is feeling independent/being treated like I’m independent. I’m constantly under the watchful care of someone (usually several someones) and probably rightfully so. Here, I’m practically worthless at getting places or taking care of myself. But I’m frequently frustrated by feeling that I am treated as a child, even though people are just trying to be nice. I count down to the plane, cause once I get in the airport, I will again be on my own, and given the ordinary American respect of an individual. No one will offer to do everything for me, or check to see if I’m ok, or worry that everything might not be perfect. I will be able to carry my own things and make my own decisions, and if something is not ok, I will be quite capable of informing someone and getting help on my own.

After a bus ride and two train rides, both of which my huge bag got “searched” upon entering, and one of which my card didn’t work, we arrived at a hospital in Manila. Paula passed me off to Ate Vicky, the community level staff in Bacoor, Cavite, and it was time for another crazy bus ride and a jeepney ride until I finally arrived at my new home. And a sweet home it is. I think I personally occupy more square feet than I ever have on my own in my life. I have a bedroom. And I have a living room with a dining table and six chairs and a couch with two other chairs and a TV and a sink. And I have a bathroom (squattee again). The whole deal may just be the home-ec classroom for the school that the church runs, but it’s mine til Sunday, and I even have a key. And I’m told there is broadband in the office. Amazing! And Paula tells me the inspiration center in Laguna (where I’m staying for some part of my last 3 weeks) is quite nice. I’m spoiled!

All of this to say, it’s been a sweet couple of days. What seemed not that long ago, to be a long month ahead of me now seems like only a few short weeks. The pastors here are incredibly nice and I’m excited for tomorrow. Maybe at some point this week I’ll even have a chance to do my job and write some more stories, as it seems like an eternity since I’ve actually done that.