When I was in middle school, I did not have the fondest experiences from a comfort standpoint visiting the Philippines, the place my family is from. Growing up in the United States, where life is more convenient and filled with abundant opportunities to be the best version of yourself, I was often frustrated with the inconveniences my mother, my Mama, and I faced each time we visited. My ideal vacation is visiting a place where I can go sightseeing, while enjoying the conveniences I am accustomed to at home.
Conveniences that I took for granted, such as air-conditioning, hot showers, private transportation, personal privacy, reliable internet connectivity, tasty food less than 10 minutes away, and being able to converse in English, made me feel uncomfortable when those conveniences were no longer at my fingertips.
Air conditioning? Electric fans mixed with perspiration are the way to go to cool yourself!
Hot showers? The weather is hot enough already, and using the tabo (bucket of water) to take baths saves water!
Private transportation? We ride tricycles, jeepneys, or if we are lucky, the Ceres bus, to get around the provinces. If you do have a car, you may need a driver!
Personal privacy? My business is your business. Chismis (gossip) is the most basic form of entertainment!
Reliable internet connection? You have access if you “load” (pay) your service provider, and if the four neighbors around you also subscribe!
Tasty food 10 minutes away? We cook our own food, or go to the banwa (town square) 15 minutes away to buy food, which may or may not be available!
Converse in English? Sure they can understand English, but it is easier for them to speak in their local dialect!
This past month, I went on a solo trip to the Philippines to visit my family. Not much had really changed since the last time I visited more than 10 years ago. The weather is still hot and humid, I still got bitten by mosquitoes, and safety is still literally a foreign word.
Yet, I was okay in the discomfort. By recalling how our suffering ends when the gratitude begins, I found beauty in the simple things as my expectations of an ideal vacation waned. My family went out of their way to make sure I felt comfortable. They allowed me to sit in the front seat of their vehicles, to sleep in their air-conditioned rooms, and to enjoy home-cooked meals that Filipino restaurants in the United States can only wish to match in quality and in freshness. Constantly sweating allowed me to forego using lotion to moisturize my skin, which naturally cleansed my blemishes. Having car trouble on one instance allowed me to see some truck drivers pull over to the side of the road to urinate as we waited for help.
Not having a reliable internet connection allowed me to enjoy conversations with family members as we gave each other our undivided attention. Conversing in our local dialect gave me actual practice speaking a different language, while allowing my family to comfortably express themselves. In addition, I gained appreciation for saying the simplest sentences that I took for granted when speaking English. Who knew that I can find joy saying, “Good morning! How are you doing?” in Hiligaynon? I relished in the challenge of cracking corny jokes, such as one time asking my cousin if her classmate was flirting with her at the mall, despite at her discomfort at that person talking to her. Not to mention, expressing yourself in a different language allows you dramatize sentences in a way that English does not allow. Saying “Are you a keyboard? Because you are my type!” does not carry the same level of cheesiness as saying “Keyboard kaba? Kasi type kita!” while doing my best impression of Coco Martin smiling. Those conversations reminded me of the times shared with my relatives when we were younger, in which we used our imaginations to entertain ourselves.
From my travels to various countries the past few years, the one factor that separated my trips from enjoyable to truly remarkable was the conversations shared with people from those places. Conversing with people from different places helps me work on being sensitive towards their perspectives. It is one thing to have preconceived notions of people and places based on what we hear, but it is also another thing to visit those people and places to listen and see matters from their point of view. Understanding why people view matters a certain way requires building character that goes beyond holding onto our own beliefs. For example, Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte is negatively perceived in Western media and amongst Filipino-Americans, but when I asked Filipinos their thoughts, he is not as bad as he is portrayed. Sure, he can be more professional in the way he talks in his press conferences, but he is sincere in serving the Filipino people as president. Corruption still exists, but he is taking action in a way that makes many Filipinos respect him and bad guys think twice. Besides, his “Du-30” slogan is clever wordplay.
No matter what country, economic background, or social class someone is from, we all look for the same things: a house we can call our own, a private vehicle, a stable source of income, and a family. But more importantly, we all look for someone, whether a friend or family member, who will listen to us and be sensitive to our needs. How often times do we fail to empathize with others because we view their problems through our own perspectives? By switching my point of view to see matters from other peoples’ perspectives, I actually do not blame people for feeling the way they do. It is now almost selfish of me to be sensitive to people because not only do they feel better after our conversations, but also they have entrusted me with their hearts to keep secret and sacred. The best thing we can do is be graciously courteous in our appreciation for the time shared and the hearts entrusted. It is in that trust, a greater mutual respect is developed that stands the test of time.
A few days before I left the Philippines, I got sick due to the constant temperature swings between the hot and humid weather outside, and the air-conditioned rooms inside. My family recommended a doctor’s consultation, so that medication can be prescribed for me. My cousins and I took the tricycle from the province to the doctor, whose office is at the banwa. I sat on the back of the tricycle facing behind, while my cousins faced the front. Those 20 minutes spent looking back at the road in my family’s barangay (provincial subdivision) from the tricycle was symbolic of how much our lives have changed since the last time I had visited the Philippines. I was humbled visiting the place where my family came from, and being reminded of the sacrifices made so that many of us can have opportunities for a better life that does not involve toiling in the fields as vaqueros (herdsmen or farmers). My family may have branched off the past few decades, but the bonds we shared together in the past still remain strong even to this day. As long as we all keep each other in our hearts and in our prayers, we continue living on in each other and know that we have a place to come back to. That feeling of comfort and appreciation inside my heart overwhelmed the physical discomfort of hot weather, bug bites, and lack of vehicle safety.
As I waited for my flight at Manila recalling my experiences shared with family, I sat down on the airport benches watching the NBA Playoffs on live television with some of the airport staff. Unfortunately, there were more televisions airing programs and advertisements than televisions that displayed flight information on the international terminal. I guess airing basketball games and advertisements are more important than, you know, telling passengers where they need to go to catch their flight. In other words, “Bahala ka!” Although I tried to understand why this is the case, I could only smile at and accept the idiosyncrasies that bring out the charms of the Philippines.
My Lola would tell us, “It is important to where you come from. Because if you do not know where you came from, you won’t get to where you need to be.”