I've put up a bunch of videos onto my YouTube site.
You can see them all by clicking here.
Just like this blog, you can also add it on RSS feeds! I've also put up a link to the right, next to the Flickr one!
I'm going to be posting more videos as I think they are very useful to capture sights and sounds that are hard to describe with just words and pictures. Hope you enjoy!
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
The Thrill of Victory
Recently I was asked to judge a band contest. Peace Corps Volunteers are often asked to judge things (I’ve already judged a children’s art contest) and I figured I could tell a good band from a bad one, so I readily agreed. Then I found out it was a local high school marching band contest. What do I know about bands? I never did band, ever. Not even in middle school, when it was basically required. About the only thing I know about marching bands is that the Husky Marching Band is great and regal and Oregon’s is ridiculous and wears paratrooper outfits. But nevertheless, I was one of three judges, two of whom were highly qualified – the band director of a nearby university, and a former music champion in the area.
The criteria were as follows:
Choreography, Mastery, Entrance & Exit Formation – 30%
Showmanship, Showdown – 30% (I had to get clarification on how to judge “showdown”)
Costume, Props – 30%
Audience Impact – 10%
Marching bands are quite different here. Funding is a major constraint, so all the bands only consist of snare drums and two or three bass drums, some lightweight portable xylophones, flag wavers, and dancers. It really limits what you can do and how impressive your sound can be. Imagine the ambiance at your favorite college stadium without the blare of horns belting out your favorite fight song. Most of the songs played were simple children’s ditties like Mary Had a Little Lamb and It’s a Small World (funny, it’s just as annoying in the Philippines – small world, huh?), but one band had a pretty impressive rendition of the Rocky theme song and of “Beautiful Girls” (which I am otherwise entirely sick of). Judging actually ended up being pretty easy to sort out. I channeled my inner marching band critic to determine and realized what was better to watch (constant movement and playing, smooth transitions) and what was boring or distracting (standing in one place, stopping between songs). Not all the schools have the same kinds of resources, so I felt kind of iffy about making judgments on uniforms and proper instrument balance (which drowns out bad players, and makes songs sound better). The winners had by far the most impressive choreography, which was something that I didn’t feel bad about judging on. And I ended up having basically the same ranking as the other two judges, so I felt good about that – a unanimous victor.
Here is one of the participating bands - points knocked off for basically standing in this formation the rest of the time
Here's the winning band. I wish I knew how to take better night photos, besides getting a better camera.
The most exciting and unexpected moment came at the end, when the winners were announced. A rumbling of drums and cheers had been building up, and when the runner-up was named, the winning band exploded in the kind of pure unadulterated victory celebration that I haven’t seen in a while. As the dusk of the evening settled in, a slight haze fell over the plaza, the winners rushed around cheering and hoisting flags, carrying their leader on their shoulders, I basked in the joy of a last minute high school football playoff upset victory on a damp fall night, for it felt much the same.
The criteria were as follows:
Choreography, Mastery, Entrance & Exit Formation – 30%
Showmanship, Showdown – 30% (I had to get clarification on how to judge “showdown”)
Costume, Props – 30%
Audience Impact – 10%
Marching bands are quite different here. Funding is a major constraint, so all the bands only consist of snare drums and two or three bass drums, some lightweight portable xylophones, flag wavers, and dancers. It really limits what you can do and how impressive your sound can be. Imagine the ambiance at your favorite college stadium without the blare of horns belting out your favorite fight song. Most of the songs played were simple children’s ditties like Mary Had a Little Lamb and It’s a Small World (funny, it’s just as annoying in the Philippines – small world, huh?), but one band had a pretty impressive rendition of the Rocky theme song and of “Beautiful Girls” (which I am otherwise entirely sick of). Judging actually ended up being pretty easy to sort out. I channeled my inner marching band critic to determine and realized what was better to watch (constant movement and playing, smooth transitions) and what was boring or distracting (standing in one place, stopping between songs). Not all the schools have the same kinds of resources, so I felt kind of iffy about making judgments on uniforms and proper instrument balance (which drowns out bad players, and makes songs sound better). The winners had by far the most impressive choreography, which was something that I didn’t feel bad about judging on. And I ended up having basically the same ranking as the other two judges, so I felt good about that – a unanimous victor.
Here is one of the participating bands - points knocked off for basically standing in this formation the rest of the time
Here's the winning band. I wish I knew how to take better night photos, besides getting a better camera.
The most exciting and unexpected moment came at the end, when the winners were announced. A rumbling of drums and cheers had been building up, and when the runner-up was named, the winning band exploded in the kind of pure unadulterated victory celebration that I haven’t seen in a while. As the dusk of the evening settled in, a slight haze fell over the plaza, the winners rushed around cheering and hoisting flags, carrying their leader on their shoulders, I basked in the joy of a last minute high school football playoff upset victory on a damp fall night, for it felt much the same.
The Ukay-Ukay
Anybody who knew me in high school or college was likely well aware of my penchant for thrift-store shopping. My sizeable wardrobe consisted of literally hundreds of t-shirts, polo shirts, button-up shirts, jackets, and sweaters, a large portion of which were purchased cheaply at thrift stores. It’s where I got most of my vintage Husky clothes and the large majority of my ironic hipster t-shirts. I came by this thrifty habit honestly because for as long as I can remember, long family car trips always included a few stops at Goodwills, Value Villages, St. Vincent De Pauls, and more, while my dad stocked up on books for the store he would eventually open. From an early age, I took to browsing the clothes racks looking for sports jerseys, and never really stopped.
Sometimes people accused me of essentially stealing clothes that were intended for poor people. This isn’t true at all, because the point of thrift stores in the United States is not so much to clothe the less fortunate (although it does help serve that purpose) but more to make money for charitable organizations through profits generated from the stores. But did you ever wonder where all the clothes that never get sold end up? Shipped to places like the Philippines, which means that now I have a second chance on clothes I missed out on in the US. In this country, they end up at giant clothing bazaars reminiscent of a rummage sale, usually in piles, but occasionally on hangers. I have heard that the clothes that end up here are intended to be donated to victims of typhoons, floods, etc., but that there is some corruption at some higher level that redirects these donated clothes to sellers. I’m not sure how much truth there is in this – probably some, but I doubt that it applies to all the clothes here. (Here is a very interesting article from Pacific Northwest magazine that details what happens to used clothes once they leave the United States).
Here, these clothing bazaars are called ukay-ukays (ooh-kai ooh-kai). The act of picking or sorting through something is called ukay, so the name is derived from the way you have to sort through the mounds of clothing in order to see what’s for sale. There are some relatively permanent ukay-ukays, and some even have buildings they operate out of (these are fancier, so they are called “US Surplus” instead of “ukay-ukay”), but most have the goods spread out on tables and operate under large plastic tarps. In addition to the permanent outlets, there is a large group of sellers that roves around to wherever a fiesta is. So these past few days, out of nowhere on a quiet street, a giant market showed up with plenty of ukay-ukays and sellers of various other wares.
I spent some time sorting through a large pile of t-shirts and came up with some gems:
St. Patrick’s Day At The Milton Club- The classic fuzzy letter shirt in Cooper Black font. I’ll be sure to wear this on my birthday and probably a lot of other times as well.
Willard and Pauline 50 Years- A classic celebration of love. Anybody know them?
Dodgers- a good companion to my Dodgers #42 shirt (that’s Jackie Robinson, for suckers that don’t know) that Stacey is currently looking after for me. Plus, it was previously owned by a famous soda maker. Notice that it used to cost $0.25 in the US, but I bought it for 33.33 ̅ pesos (3 for 100, along with the above shirts), which is about $0.80. And if you factor in the relative purchasing power of the average Filipino to the average American, this means that the shirt cost probably about 30-40 times more here than it did in its US thrift store.
I also found this treasure trove of baseball and soccer jerseys from Japan. I wanted to buy them all and sell them at a huge profit to hipsters in the US (maybe through Red Light, or even just online) but it just didn’t seem practical. The soccer jerseys were all a little small but I did buy a couple baseball jerseys, one for myself and one for my friend Jon, who is also from Seattle and is a big baseball fan (during training, we often played stickball with whatever materials were available – bamboo/rocks, nipa/seeds, etc.). They are also completely impractical, made of thick flannel that is entirely inappropriate for this climate, and probably nobody here would appreciate my fantastic fashion sense and would instead just wonder why I’m wearing a dirty old baseball jersey. But I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to buy these because I didn’t know if I’d ever have the chance again. Also, come to think of it, I don’t actually know that they are Japanese, I just assumed they were because I know it’s baseball-mad there, but I can’t read Japanese, Chinese, or Korean or even tell them apart in this case. So if anybody knows what these jerseys say, and in what language, please let me know.
Sometimes people accused me of essentially stealing clothes that were intended for poor people. This isn’t true at all, because the point of thrift stores in the United States is not so much to clothe the less fortunate (although it does help serve that purpose) but more to make money for charitable organizations through profits generated from the stores. But did you ever wonder where all the clothes that never get sold end up? Shipped to places like the Philippines, which means that now I have a second chance on clothes I missed out on in the US. In this country, they end up at giant clothing bazaars reminiscent of a rummage sale, usually in piles, but occasionally on hangers. I have heard that the clothes that end up here are intended to be donated to victims of typhoons, floods, etc., but that there is some corruption at some higher level that redirects these donated clothes to sellers. I’m not sure how much truth there is in this – probably some, but I doubt that it applies to all the clothes here. (Here is a very interesting article from Pacific Northwest magazine that details what happens to used clothes once they leave the United States).
Here, these clothing bazaars are called ukay-ukays (ooh-kai ooh-kai). The act of picking or sorting through something is called ukay, so the name is derived from the way you have to sort through the mounds of clothing in order to see what’s for sale. There are some relatively permanent ukay-ukays, and some even have buildings they operate out of (these are fancier, so they are called “US Surplus” instead of “ukay-ukay”), but most have the goods spread out on tables and operate under large plastic tarps. In addition to the permanent outlets, there is a large group of sellers that roves around to wherever a fiesta is. So these past few days, out of nowhere on a quiet street, a giant market showed up with plenty of ukay-ukays and sellers of various other wares.
I spent some time sorting through a large pile of t-shirts and came up with some gems:
St. Patrick’s Day At The Milton Club- The classic fuzzy letter shirt in Cooper Black font. I’ll be sure to wear this on my birthday and probably a lot of other times as well.
Willard and Pauline 50 Years- A classic celebration of love. Anybody know them?
Dodgers- a good companion to my Dodgers #42 shirt (that’s Jackie Robinson, for suckers that don’t know) that Stacey is currently looking after for me. Plus, it was previously owned by a famous soda maker. Notice that it used to cost $0.25 in the US, but I bought it for 33.33 ̅ pesos (3 for 100, along with the above shirts), which is about $0.80. And if you factor in the relative purchasing power of the average Filipino to the average American, this means that the shirt cost probably about 30-40 times more here than it did in its US thrift store.
I also found this treasure trove of baseball and soccer jerseys from Japan. I wanted to buy them all and sell them at a huge profit to hipsters in the US (maybe through Red Light, or even just online) but it just didn’t seem practical. The soccer jerseys were all a little small but I did buy a couple baseball jerseys, one for myself and one for my friend Jon, who is also from Seattle and is a big baseball fan (during training, we often played stickball with whatever materials were available – bamboo/rocks, nipa/seeds, etc.). They are also completely impractical, made of thick flannel that is entirely inappropriate for this climate, and probably nobody here would appreciate my fantastic fashion sense and would instead just wonder why I’m wearing a dirty old baseball jersey. But I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to buy these because I didn’t know if I’d ever have the chance again. Also, come to think of it, I don’t actually know that they are Japanese, I just assumed they were because I know it’s baseball-mad there, but I can’t read Japanese, Chinese, or Korean or even tell them apart in this case. So if anybody knows what these jerseys say, and in what language, please let me know.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Rules of the Road: Jeepneys
This will be the first in a series of posts regarding the transportation system in the Philippines. Today we talk about Jeepneys! (Etymology: Jeep + using it so your knees are usually uncomfortable = jeepney)
Jeepneys are one of the main symbols of the Philippines. Many(/most?) are surplus US Army troop carriers that have been converted to passenger use. They are diesel, and they will probably run forever. Long before MTV debuted “Pimp My Ride”, Filipinos were upgrading jeepneys in all sorts of creative ways. Some in Manila are a dull metal gray, but many feature lavish paint jobs and all kinds of accessories, sometimes with fixed up interiors. Consider the most flamboyant jeepney in my area:
Jeepneys run on a fixed route, picking up and dropping off passengers anywhere along it. The fare varies by how far you’re going – there’s usually a minimum charge of 5 pesos, and you can roughly add a peso for every 2 kilometers traveled. The larger ones usually have a younger male hanging off the back who yells to the driver when to stop to pick somebody up, and collects the fares. To get on the jeepney, you must flag it down from the side of the road, either by raising your arm, or doing the Filipino motion for “come here”, which looks like “get away, shoo, shoo!” to Americans. To stop the jeepney so you can get off, you usually rap a coin on the overhead bar, or yell “Lugar lang!” (Roughly “Just here!”). Once the passenger is off, the money collector makes a sound that I had to think about a while in order to describe. It’s like you say “Yeah” slowly, as unenthusiastically as possible, but also loudly and while throwing your voice a couple octaves lower, and not really pronouncing the Y. It’s not really a word. I believe they’re just trying to sound cool.
The seating arrangement in a jeepney is two long benches facing each other, with an aisle down the middle. All entering and exiting is done from the rear. There are bars from the roof running parallel to the benches to hold on to when the ride gets bumpy, or when braking and acceleration are erratic (so, always). Open windows run parallel to the benches, and only have tarps put down if it is raining hard. True jeepneys are actually usually quite comfortable on the Filipino transportation scale, because the dimensions are built for American soldiers. There is typically enough leg and head room, and getting out of them requires nothing more than walking while bent at the waist. Of course, there’s always room for one more, even when all the seats are filled (I would estimate that the typical Jeepney can hold 20-24 passengers sitting comfortably inside). If you’re a female, a child, or an older man, small 2-person wooden benches are brought out and put into the aisle, and passengers sit facing perpendicular to those on the main benches. This makes getting in and out much more complicated. Males from the age of 15-40 tend to hang off the back (there are platforms for standing), or even sit on top. It’s not uncommon to see a jeepney cruising down the highway at a busy time with 12 or 15 people riding.. on the outside. I can vouch for the fun of hanging off the back – provided you have adequate foot-anchoring space. It’s much fresher than inside, and you have a better view of the surroundings. I’m not crazy enough to have ridden on the top yet.
Here’s what can happen when things get tight:
My friend Matt Kucharski(about 6'5") gettin' down in Manila
My other friend Matt McCleary (also about 6'3"?)demonstrating the proper back-ride technique
It’s all a part of getting close with your neighbors. "Community integration" if you will.
Jeepneys are one of the main symbols of the Philippines. Many(/most?) are surplus US Army troop carriers that have been converted to passenger use. They are diesel, and they will probably run forever. Long before MTV debuted “Pimp My Ride”, Filipinos were upgrading jeepneys in all sorts of creative ways. Some in Manila are a dull metal gray, but many feature lavish paint jobs and all kinds of accessories, sometimes with fixed up interiors. Consider the most flamboyant jeepney in my area:
Jeepneys run on a fixed route, picking up and dropping off passengers anywhere along it. The fare varies by how far you’re going – there’s usually a minimum charge of 5 pesos, and you can roughly add a peso for every 2 kilometers traveled. The larger ones usually have a younger male hanging off the back who yells to the driver when to stop to pick somebody up, and collects the fares. To get on the jeepney, you must flag it down from the side of the road, either by raising your arm, or doing the Filipino motion for “come here”, which looks like “get away, shoo, shoo!” to Americans. To stop the jeepney so you can get off, you usually rap a coin on the overhead bar, or yell “Lugar lang!” (Roughly “Just here!”). Once the passenger is off, the money collector makes a sound that I had to think about a while in order to describe. It’s like you say “Yeah” slowly, as unenthusiastically as possible, but also loudly and while throwing your voice a couple octaves lower, and not really pronouncing the Y. It’s not really a word. I believe they’re just trying to sound cool.
The seating arrangement in a jeepney is two long benches facing each other, with an aisle down the middle. All entering and exiting is done from the rear. There are bars from the roof running parallel to the benches to hold on to when the ride gets bumpy, or when braking and acceleration are erratic (so, always). Open windows run parallel to the benches, and only have tarps put down if it is raining hard. True jeepneys are actually usually quite comfortable on the Filipino transportation scale, because the dimensions are built for American soldiers. There is typically enough leg and head room, and getting out of them requires nothing more than walking while bent at the waist. Of course, there’s always room for one more, even when all the seats are filled (I would estimate that the typical Jeepney can hold 20-24 passengers sitting comfortably inside). If you’re a female, a child, or an older man, small 2-person wooden benches are brought out and put into the aisle, and passengers sit facing perpendicular to those on the main benches. This makes getting in and out much more complicated. Males from the age of 15-40 tend to hang off the back (there are platforms for standing), or even sit on top. It’s not uncommon to see a jeepney cruising down the highway at a busy time with 12 or 15 people riding.. on the outside. I can vouch for the fun of hanging off the back – provided you have adequate foot-anchoring space. It’s much fresher than inside, and you have a better view of the surroundings. I’m not crazy enough to have ridden on the top yet.
Here’s what can happen when things get tight:
My friend Matt Kucharski(about 6'5") gettin' down in Manila
My other friend Matt McCleary (also about 6'3"?)demonstrating the proper back-ride technique
It’s all a part of getting close with your neighbors. "Community integration" if you will.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Comments of an Enthusiastic Human about Confessions of an Economic Hitman
Recently, I read Confessions of an Economic Hitman, by John Perkins, after having it on my radar for quite a while, and the entire time I was reading it I was excited and kept wondering if this was indeed the best book I’d ever read. Not just because it was well-written, or interesting, or informative – it was all of those things – but because I read it at the right time.
Economic Hit Men (EHM for short), in Perkins’ words, are “highly paid professionals who cheat countries around the globe out of trillions of dollars. Their tools include fraudulent financial reports, rigged elections, payoffs, extortions, sex, and murder. They play a game as old as Empire but one that has taken on a terrifying dimensions during this time of globalization”. What is so interesting to me is that Perkins started off as a young Peace Corps Volunteer. Smart, capable, interested in the world around him. Patriotic to the ideals of his country but opposed to its current direction. Eager to travel, experience a different culture, and challenge his notions of civilization. In other words, he started out as me.
Perkins spends little of the book discussing his Peace Corps experience, in fact, it is mainly brought up to introduce how he met the man who would eventually hire him and take him into the EHM fold. He spends much time explaining his rise as an international economic player and the incredible deals he made as such. The latter part of the book is an often gut-wrenching struggle with his own conscience, which parallels to the reader’s own soul-searching about his or her place in the ‘corporatocracy’, and my ongoing pondering of what, where, and how on Earth I will direct my energies when I finish my Peace Corps service. My mind currently swirls with possibilities and this book serves as both a cautionary and inspirational tale.
Sample quotes:
“People throughout the land understand that the real problem is a corporatocracy that has grown so selfish and greedy and so entrenched that it threatens the security of the United States and indeed the very survival of our species and many other life-forms.”
“I am certain that when enough of us become aware of how we are being exploited by the economic engine that creates an insatiable appetite for the world’s resources, and results in systems that foster slavery, we will no longer tolerate it. We will reassess our role in a world where a few swim in riches and the majority drown in poverty, pollution, and violence. We will commit ourselves to navigating a course toward compassion, democracy, and social justice for all.”
I highly, highly recommend this book, moreso than any book I have come across in a long time. It is at once a history lesson about the last 50 years, a whirlwind tour of the globe, a fascinating story, and a call to action. Read it.
--
And if you want to take it a little farther, read Ishmael, Guns, Germs, and Steel, and Confessions of an Economic Hitman all in a row. Trust me, you’ll be in for an adventure, going through many fields of study, places on Earth, writing styles, topics, and things to think about, and when you come out of it you’ll have a much better understanding of the world around you and how it came to be this way – and hopefully a new motivation for making it better.
--
Links to amazon.com do not constitute encouragement to buy your books from there, of course – you should always buy your books at Pilchuck Books in Everett, Washington, if at all possible =)
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Supersonics
This blog is about my experience in the Peace Corps, but from time to time I will use it for other purposes as well. Right now, I’m sick of watching from thousands of miles away while Clay Bennett and his horde of Oklahoma Robbers turns a major part of my childhood into a pathetic spectacle on the court and off.
Who are these Seattle SuperSonics? To a casual observer, it’s a cast of nobodies, plus some rookie kid, who can’t win a game. To the fan, it’s a disappointing collective of role players that lost their two superstars with not much in return. To me, it’s a living, breathing entity that connects Seattle’s past, and my past, to the present. I recently read an article in the Seattle Times – could the Portland Trailblazers ever replace the Sonics for local fans, since they have so many Seattle connections? The answer was an unequivocal no, and except for my unconditional support of Brandon Roy, I wholeheartedly agree.
The article speaks of a time when a Gary Payton jersey was the perfect gift, when thunderous Shawn Kemp dunks were imitated on every lowered hoop in the area, and when going to a game made you the coolest kid on the block. That line gave me goosebumps, as I realized how important the Sonics were to me. To those memories, add standing in line for hours at Everett Chevrolet, hoping to get an autograph from my idol Gary Payton, but falling short because the line was so long. Meeting Nate McMillan at the JC Penny in Alderwood Mall, and being so excited that I couldn’t even spell my own name right (I still have a card, signed to “Criag”). Attending (free) SeaFirst Jammin’ Hoops Camps, where role-playing, but still admired Sonics like Vincent Askew would attend and help out the kids. Letting Gary Payton’s brother Terry wear my Payton jersey during the counselor’s game at a Skyhawks Hoops camp. Falling on the floor and crying when the Sonics lost in the first round to the Nuggets in 1994. Driving all around with my mother, forcing her to listen over and over to Sir Mix-a-Lot’s “Not in Our House” during the playoffs. Big Smooth, Kendall Gill, Hersey Hawkins, Detlef Schrempf. Those years we played at the Tacoma Dome, while KeyArena was being renovated. Chanting for Steve Scheffler to enter the game during a big blowout. Watching Larry Bird and Michael Jordan play in the KingDome, in seats so far away I could hardly see the court. Getting tickets each year for my birthday to see some opposing player I really admired, but mostly to have the thrill of going to a Sonics game. The years when my Dad and I had multi-game packs and sat in the second-to last row. Walking through a crisp winter night among the Christmas lights at the Seattle Center, listening to the sounds of the Tuba Man, on the way to get some Dick’s hamburgers. My friend Finn and I sneaking onto the floor as college students to participate in a free-throw contest that was designed for people under 16. Attending the jersey retirement ceremonies of Spencer Haywood and Gus Williams, who I never even saw play a game, but swelling with pride because they played in the early glory days, which brought Seattle our only major professional championship. Riding in the 74 Metro Bus, packed with UW students, heading to a game to sit in the cheap seats with my buddies.
The absolutely excruciatingly frustrating thing about this whole situation is that it’s all about money, it’s all about greed. It’s owners treating sports teams like a hedge fund instead of a civic good. It’s managers making terrible decisions about personnel because of money. It’s liars and would-be public extortionists. It’s people who value the “luxury” experience at a basketball game more than the game itself, to see and be seen, to have an “entertainment experience”. It’s pretentious people who dress up in business clothes to go to the game. I’ve said this before, and I will say it again. There is nothing wrong with KeyArena. Maybe the financing deal is messed up, but I believe that can be worked out. As a place to watch basketball games, KeyArena is one of the best arenas I have ever been to. The sightlines are excellent and all seats are close to the action. It’s certainly a more pleasant place to watch a game than Madison Square Garden, which pioneered the whole “entertainment” concept. Even if the Sonics are able to stay in Washington, but have to move to some far-flung suburb, the idea that this recently renovated arena in the heart of the city is not good enough is ridiculous to me. Of course, I’m not rich, and I don’t go to the games for the complete entertainment experience. I go to watch basketball, so I don’t count.
Mostly, I’m upset because I remember how important the Sonics have been to me in my life. I just can’t imagine the city without them. Even though my current interest waxes and wanes, and it’s true, I profess more loyalty to the Huskies than the Sonics, I always want them to be there. Nothing can bring a city together like professional sports. I want my children to experience the magic that I did growing up. I want to share my memories with them at a game, not while watching the Oklahoma City Idiots playing on television. And so I’m frustrated with our dollars-only previous owners, our pretentious city council members who act like the Sonics add nothing to our city, our greedy, lying ownership group, Clay Bennett, David Stern, and everybody else who is so motivated by the dollar that they can’t see that KeyArena would be packed, and the city swathed in Green and Gold, if only they put a quality product on the court instead of looking at everything through their wallets. I can’t believe I am excited that the Sonics are being sued by the city. I can’t believe that it’s come to this.
I doubt this will make any sort of difference, but I wanted to say it for the record, as a lifelong fan who may not have his team anymore when he returns home. Full license of my Clay Bennett image is granted, and in fact I would be thrilled if it ended up on some t-shirts, at games, on signs, and bumper stickers. It won’t make him detest Seattleites any extra – he already shows no respect whatsoever to us. But it may help rile up some public sentiment and increase the citizen push to keep an important part of our city, in our city.
If you’re not from Seattle, don’t like sports, or don’t understand the numerous unexplained references in this post, sorry. I suggest checking the Seattle Times archives about the Sonics. We will return to our regularly scheduled save the world programming shortly. Go Sonics.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Sayaw Darling, Sayaw Darling!
A few days after getting to my training site back in May, I noticed a show on television that immediately captivated me with its overwhelming mixture of singing, dancing, karaoke, and quiz show. I couldn’t really understand what it was all about, it being mostly in Tagalog, but the show is more or less unavoidable in this country, so over the weeks and months I began to understand it well. In short, Wowowee is a variety show watched in millions of households in the Philippines six days a week. To learn more than I could tell you, or wish to type, click here [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wowowee]. I decided early on that I would like to make an appearance on the show at some point in my tenure here.
In October, as I was making preparations to go to Manila for a meeting, I mentioned to some friends in the Municipal Hall that I hoped to attend Wowowee while there. One girl said that her uncle worked for the Movie and Television Review and Control Board, which apparently has connections to get in to any TV show or movie, so a process of text messages between many involved parties was set in motion, culminating with an appointment for me to meet her uncle at the ABS-CBN studio in Quezon City on the morning of the show. So on Friday, October 12, my friend David and I took the light rail out to studio and met the family. I texted everybody in my phone book to watch us on the show, because I was fairly certain we would get some camera time – whenever any non-Filipino person is in the crowd, they are constantly panned to. Numerous viewing parties were apparently hastily arranged in my town.
When we got into the studio, it was smaller than it looks on TV, as studios always are, but I was amazed by the camera tricks that are played. It was really small! We had seats in the The Filipino Channel (TFC) subscribers section, which is populated by OFW’s (Overseas Foreign Workers) and other Filipinos living abroad, most of whom hold up signs representing where they’re from. So all around us were Filipinos holding signs like “Riyadh”, “New York”, and “Seattle, Washington” (she had relatives in Everett!) – and in the middle, the only two white guys in the audience, one of them holding a sign saying “Amlan, Negros Oriental.” That was my key to getting a lot of screen time, I knew it. But I told everybody that I didn’t want to be a contestant, participant, or anything like that. I just wanted to watch in person.
The show always starts off with a sort of singalong, which then turns into a dance contest to select the “Bigat10”, who later compete in the quiz show portion for cash. Bigaten, I was later told, means something like “big shot” in Tagalog. So before taping started, the staff taught everybody the new dance, which is called Sayaw Darling (sayaw meaning dance). It was a very simple dance, and they really emphasized puckering your lips while doing it.
Taping started with the Wowowee dancers running out and performing a dance routine, with so much going on, so many flashing lights, and general pandemonium that I didn’t know where to look. Staff went around the TFC section with microphones so people could give shout-outs to their family and friends. I managed to get off a “Hello to everybody in Amlan, Negros Oriental!” before the microphone was whipped away. Then Sayaw Darling started, with the host Willie going around to each section and selecting the Bigaten. Eventually they got to the TFC section. I was just sort of dancing along happily, holding my sign – you know me, I like to ham it up – and then I realized that all the staff on the floor was encouraging us to pucker our lips, so I went along with it. As Mike D of the Beastie Boys once put it, “I’m the one that won that dance contest, ‘cause you know I dance the best.” All of a sudden Willie screamed “Bigaten!” and pointed at me, and confetti and fog filled the air. Oh, crap.
I was quickly pulled down out of the crowd and onto the stage, given four bags with promotional items, and danced in a line with the other Bigaten. One of the hosts of the show, Pokwang, who looks like a drag queen but is apparently actually a woman, came up and hugged me while dancing and puckering her lips. Imagine the situation: on Tuesday, you’re sitting in an office with your coworkers debating whether Pokwang is a girl or a boy trying to look like a girl, and on Friday, you’re on national television in front of probably 30 million people with Pokwang’s arms wrapped around you, dancing.
The initial segment ended and all the Bigaten were taken backstage to have the rules of the game we would participate in explained. You have to stand at a microphone with the back of your hand held under your chin, and when the signal is given, hit the buzzer with your hand and give the answer. If you are right, you win 10,000 pesos (about $230) – which goes a very far way here. I was a little unsure about all this – as Peace Corps Volunteers we’re not allowed to win money, I’m pretty sure. And it would be pretty hard to hide money won on national television. After the explanation, we spent most of the show waiting from the sidelines, as they ran through singing and dancing, and “name that tune” by parents and children who shared the same birthday.
Finally, it was Bigaten time. We were all lined up to face the winner of the previous segment in a 1-on-1-on-1 tournament – two Bigaten at a time versus the one earlier winner. The first pair went up, and then it was my turn. My opponent was a half-Filipina girl from Switzerland, so for our benefit, they switched to English. Our question was: Complete the line from a song – “Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away, love was such an easy ____ to play.” I knew the answer! It’s “Game”! Easy question. However, I was completely distracted by everything that was going on, was unsure about winning the money, and, in all honesty, was slow on the draw even if I had tried really hard. My Swiss opponent was on the ball and got her hand down immediately and went away with the P10,000.
All in all, my winnings were as follows:
· Samples of Pau liniment, Liveraide capsules, Taheebo capsules, and Fitrum capsules (all Filipino products for muscle pain, liver problems, general herbal supplements, and weight loss, respectively)
· Three low-quality water bottles with Liveraide, Taheebo, and Fitrum logos, respectively
· A Pau hat with small Wowowee logos on the side
· Fleeting fame in Manila (a few random people coming up to me and dancing out on the street, some glances on the light rail train)
· Celebrity status in my town
Hopefully we’ll be able to get a recording of the show and put some highlights on YouTube. I’ll keep you posted.
Here are some pics from the show:
Backstage, waiting for the Bigat10 game to start
The game show set-up: Hosts Mariel, Pokwang, and Valerie, the podium, and my competitors
In October, as I was making preparations to go to Manila for a meeting, I mentioned to some friends in the Municipal Hall that I hoped to attend Wowowee while there. One girl said that her uncle worked for the Movie and Television Review and Control Board, which apparently has connections to get in to any TV show or movie, so a process of text messages between many involved parties was set in motion, culminating with an appointment for me to meet her uncle at the ABS-CBN studio in Quezon City on the morning of the show. So on Friday, October 12, my friend David and I took the light rail out to studio and met the family. I texted everybody in my phone book to watch us on the show, because I was fairly certain we would get some camera time – whenever any non-Filipino person is in the crowd, they are constantly panned to. Numerous viewing parties were apparently hastily arranged in my town.
When we got into the studio, it was smaller than it looks on TV, as studios always are, but I was amazed by the camera tricks that are played. It was really small! We had seats in the The Filipino Channel (TFC) subscribers section, which is populated by OFW’s (Overseas Foreign Workers) and other Filipinos living abroad, most of whom hold up signs representing where they’re from. So all around us were Filipinos holding signs like “Riyadh”, “New York”, and “Seattle, Washington” (she had relatives in Everett!) – and in the middle, the only two white guys in the audience, one of them holding a sign saying “Amlan, Negros Oriental.” That was my key to getting a lot of screen time, I knew it. But I told everybody that I didn’t want to be a contestant, participant, or anything like that. I just wanted to watch in person.
The show always starts off with a sort of singalong, which then turns into a dance contest to select the “Bigat10”, who later compete in the quiz show portion for cash. Bigaten, I was later told, means something like “big shot” in Tagalog. So before taping started, the staff taught everybody the new dance, which is called Sayaw Darling (sayaw meaning dance). It was a very simple dance, and they really emphasized puckering your lips while doing it.
Taping started with the Wowowee dancers running out and performing a dance routine, with so much going on, so many flashing lights, and general pandemonium that I didn’t know where to look. Staff went around the TFC section with microphones so people could give shout-outs to their family and friends. I managed to get off a “Hello to everybody in Amlan, Negros Oriental!” before the microphone was whipped away. Then Sayaw Darling started, with the host Willie going around to each section and selecting the Bigaten. Eventually they got to the TFC section. I was just sort of dancing along happily, holding my sign – you know me, I like to ham it up – and then I realized that all the staff on the floor was encouraging us to pucker our lips, so I went along with it. As Mike D of the Beastie Boys once put it, “I’m the one that won that dance contest, ‘cause you know I dance the best.” All of a sudden Willie screamed “Bigaten!” and pointed at me, and confetti and fog filled the air. Oh, crap.
I was quickly pulled down out of the crowd and onto the stage, given four bags with promotional items, and danced in a line with the other Bigaten. One of the hosts of the show, Pokwang, who looks like a drag queen but is apparently actually a woman, came up and hugged me while dancing and puckering her lips. Imagine the situation: on Tuesday, you’re sitting in an office with your coworkers debating whether Pokwang is a girl or a boy trying to look like a girl, and on Friday, you’re on national television in front of probably 30 million people with Pokwang’s arms wrapped around you, dancing.
The initial segment ended and all the Bigaten were taken backstage to have the rules of the game we would participate in explained. You have to stand at a microphone with the back of your hand held under your chin, and when the signal is given, hit the buzzer with your hand and give the answer. If you are right, you win 10,000 pesos (about $230) – which goes a very far way here. I was a little unsure about all this – as Peace Corps Volunteers we’re not allowed to win money, I’m pretty sure. And it would be pretty hard to hide money won on national television. After the explanation, we spent most of the show waiting from the sidelines, as they ran through singing and dancing, and “name that tune” by parents and children who shared the same birthday.
Finally, it was Bigaten time. We were all lined up to face the winner of the previous segment in a 1-on-1-on-1 tournament – two Bigaten at a time versus the one earlier winner. The first pair went up, and then it was my turn. My opponent was a half-Filipina girl from Switzerland, so for our benefit, they switched to English. Our question was: Complete the line from a song – “Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away, love was such an easy ____ to play.” I knew the answer! It’s “Game”! Easy question. However, I was completely distracted by everything that was going on, was unsure about winning the money, and, in all honesty, was slow on the draw even if I had tried really hard. My Swiss opponent was on the ball and got her hand down immediately and went away with the P10,000.
All in all, my winnings were as follows:
· Samples of Pau liniment, Liveraide capsules, Taheebo capsules, and Fitrum capsules (all Filipino products for muscle pain, liver problems, general herbal supplements, and weight loss, respectively)
· Three low-quality water bottles with Liveraide, Taheebo, and Fitrum logos, respectively
· A Pau hat with small Wowowee logos on the side
· Fleeting fame in Manila (a few random people coming up to me and dancing out on the street, some glances on the light rail train)
· Celebrity status in my town
Hopefully we’ll be able to get a recording of the show and put some highlights on YouTube. I’ll keep you posted.
Here are some pics from the show:
Backstage, waiting for the Bigat10 game to start
The game show set-up: Hosts Mariel, Pokwang, and Valerie, the podium, and my competitors Pre-show, hanging out on the set
Friday, November 2, 2007
Re-launch
The Re-launch
It's no secret that this blog has been updated very infrequently. There's a lot of reasons for that, the main one being that I hate trying to compose thoughtful posts while sitting at an internet cafe, after spending a while emailing and checking news. But, over the past two days, my friend Matt visited me on a brief side-journey from his Habitat for Humanity project in Manila, and with him came my new laptop! So now I can compose things at night, get pictures ready for uploading, and streamline the process immensely. Expect to see a lot more going up here. I've got plans for a series on transportation, a good story about my appearance on national television, and so much more. You can also expect a lot more pictures going up on Flickr. Hope you enjoy. Also, if anybody sees Clay Bennett walking around Seattle, please punch him in the face for me.
Photo: Sunset over Bio-os River
Monday, August 27, 2007
Wala mo'y ulaw!
The past week was primarily spent giving talks with my co-workers to schoolchildren about the importance of solid waste management and coastal resource management. Between holding the complete attention of a high school, getting frustrated at the incredible amount of side conversations that elementary schoolers partake in while I speak, getting mobbed for autographs and pictures, and stuffing myself full of sweet treats and Coke (Filipino hospitality is on strong display when you visit a school), I also made my most hilarious language blunder yet.
While trying to encourage participation from a quiet group who wasn't shouting out any ideas for why mangroves are important, I tried to say "Don't be shy!", which came out as "Wala mo'y ulaw!". There were some laughs, they got the point, and I moved on with my presentation. Only after, at lunch, was I told that what I had actually said was more along the lines of "You have no shame!" or "Aren't you ashamed of yourselves?". (I should have said Ayaw mo'y kaulaw!) I couldn't stop laughing at the thought that I'd admonished an entire high school for not participating more, especially because to be called shameless is one of the biggest insults you could say to a Filipino.
How did this happen? In the Philippines, even when speaking English, "shy" and "ashamed" mean the same thing. If a child is hiding his eyes from you and not answering your friendly greetings, his mother is likely to say "He is ashamed." Ashamed of what? you wonder. Does he have a third arm hiding behind your leg that he doesn't want me to see? But of course, she just means that the child is shy. Because of this, when I said wala (no, none) instead of ayaw (don't), it became a harsh admonishment instead of a friendly coaxing. They understood what I meant, though, and I picked up a handy new phrase as well,
While trying to encourage participation from a quiet group who wasn't shouting out any ideas for why mangroves are important, I tried to say "Don't be shy!", which came out as "Wala mo'y ulaw!". There were some laughs, they got the point, and I moved on with my presentation. Only after, at lunch, was I told that what I had actually said was more along the lines of "You have no shame!" or "Aren't you ashamed of yourselves?". (I should have said Ayaw mo'y kaulaw!) I couldn't stop laughing at the thought that I'd admonished an entire high school for not participating more, especially because to be called shameless is one of the biggest insults you could say to a Filipino.
How did this happen? In the Philippines, even when speaking English, "shy" and "ashamed" mean the same thing. If a child is hiding his eyes from you and not answering your friendly greetings, his mother is likely to say "He is ashamed." Ashamed of what? you wonder. Does he have a third arm hiding behind your leg that he doesn't want me to see? But of course, she just means that the child is shy. Because of this, when I said wala (no, none) instead of ayaw (don't), it became a harsh admonishment instead of a friendly coaxing. They understood what I meant, though, and I picked up a handy new phrase as well,
Friday, August 10, 2007
Please add take away the T, and add the V, thank you.
In case you didn't guess from my cryptic post title, I'm now a Peace Corps Volunteer, instead of a lowly Peace Corps Trainee. The last few weeks have been a whirlwind. We finished up training by doing community projects, which I have detailed in the post below. Then we had our final language tests (I passed with Advanced Low, which is pretty good, although I still feel like a 3 year old when I'm talking to a native speaker who isn't my teacher). Unfortunately I got a fever and wasn't feeling very well my last weekend with my training host family, so I spent my last couple nights in San Jose somewhat miserable.
On July 29, we flew to Manila for our counterpart's conference and swearing in. While the Peace Corps in the past may have consisted of 3 months of training somewhere in the US, a plane ride to a destitute country, and being dumped off for 2 years by the Peace Corps Land Rover in a village where you didn't know anybody, it's quite different here and now (at least here, anyway). We spent a week going over expectations and setting plans with our counterpart, who is our primary co-worker and the one expected to continue projects when we leave. Despite my borrowing a sweatshirt for half of it due to the fever (you do not wear sweatshirts here, people thought I was a freak, I joked along that I had adjusted to the climate extremely well), the conference went well and I realized I'm quite lucky to have a counterpart who is extremely motivated and who I work well with.
On August 3, we went for a tour of the Peace Corps office, which is very nice, and then swore in at the US Embassy. The swearing in was quite a grandiose ceremony, apparently much more so than in previous years. Peace Corps Philippines is the 2nd oldest program in the world, and we are the 266th batch to swear in here, so it was pretty special that we got to do this. Numerous dignitaries were in attendance, the news media was there (apparently I got on the national Philippine news a few times, although I didn't see it), there was some fantastic singing and dancing by a Filipino troupe, and some truly inspirational speeches. This was followed by a fancy reception, and I was lucky enough to have my Mayor and Supervisor also fly up to Manila for the ceremony - definitely a good sign of municipal support for my being in town.
The weekend after, almost all the newly sworn volunteers stayed in Manila for a small vacation to celebrate and relax before we headed off to our sites. Despite being stuck in traffic in Manila for many, many hours while going to and from the resorts and airports we'd been in, I came away with a much more positive impression. Intramuros, the old walled city, and Rizal Park were great, to name a couple. The Mall of Asia is also extremely impressive, and unquestionably the nicest, most modern mall I've ever seen. Which is why the Philippines can really fool the casual observer, as most of the people here could never afford to shop there. I also watched the Simpsons in the theater - it was ok.
On Monday, we departed for our permanent sites, which for me meant a return to Negros Oriental. As expected, the first week was slow and I really can't report on much, except that I have a cool desk, and what seems to be an 8-to-5 job. My LGU (Local Goverment Unit) has an unnecessarily high-tech biometric fingerprint scanning machine that all employees use as a time clock. So every morning now, I stand in line, put my finger in the machine, and hear a robotic "GoodMorNingCraig". Not something I expected.
Right now I'm in Dumaguete on an internet binge, as you can probably see below. I've included a description of my mangrove cleanup project, and a story I wrote one night out of high frustration with the transportation here.
A couple of housekeeping items:
For letters, use the following address:
Craig Bosman, PCV
U.S. Peace Corps
P.O. Box 7013
Airmail Distribution Center
N.A.I.A. 1300
Pasay City, Philippines
For larger packages, I will have a new address, so they can be sent directly to my site. I'll email it out later.
Blogger's being slow with the pictures, so I'm going to try and put some new ones up on Flikr... check it out!
On July 29, we flew to Manila for our counterpart's conference and swearing in. While the Peace Corps in the past may have consisted of 3 months of training somewhere in the US, a plane ride to a destitute country, and being dumped off for 2 years by the Peace Corps Land Rover in a village where you didn't know anybody, it's quite different here and now (at least here, anyway). We spent a week going over expectations and setting plans with our counterpart, who is our primary co-worker and the one expected to continue projects when we leave. Despite my borrowing a sweatshirt for half of it due to the fever (you do not wear sweatshirts here, people thought I was a freak, I joked along that I had adjusted to the climate extremely well), the conference went well and I realized I'm quite lucky to have a counterpart who is extremely motivated and who I work well with.
On August 3, we went for a tour of the Peace Corps office, which is very nice, and then swore in at the US Embassy. The swearing in was quite a grandiose ceremony, apparently much more so than in previous years. Peace Corps Philippines is the 2nd oldest program in the world, and we are the 266th batch to swear in here, so it was pretty special that we got to do this. Numerous dignitaries were in attendance, the news media was there (apparently I got on the national Philippine news a few times, although I didn't see it), there was some fantastic singing and dancing by a Filipino troupe, and some truly inspirational speeches. This was followed by a fancy reception, and I was lucky enough to have my Mayor and Supervisor also fly up to Manila for the ceremony - definitely a good sign of municipal support for my being in town.
The weekend after, almost all the newly sworn volunteers stayed in Manila for a small vacation to celebrate and relax before we headed off to our sites. Despite being stuck in traffic in Manila for many, many hours while going to and from the resorts and airports we'd been in, I came away with a much more positive impression. Intramuros, the old walled city, and Rizal Park were great, to name a couple. The Mall of Asia is also extremely impressive, and unquestionably the nicest, most modern mall I've ever seen. Which is why the Philippines can really fool the casual observer, as most of the people here could never afford to shop there. I also watched the Simpsons in the theater - it was ok.
On Monday, we departed for our permanent sites, which for me meant a return to Negros Oriental. As expected, the first week was slow and I really can't report on much, except that I have a cool desk, and what seems to be an 8-to-5 job. My LGU (Local Goverment Unit) has an unnecessarily high-tech biometric fingerprint scanning machine that all employees use as a time clock. So every morning now, I stand in line, put my finger in the machine, and hear a robotic "GoodMorNingCraig". Not something I expected.
Right now I'm in Dumaguete on an internet binge, as you can probably see below. I've included a description of my mangrove cleanup project, and a story I wrote one night out of high frustration with the transportation here.
A couple of housekeeping items:
For letters, use the following address:
Craig Bosman, PCV
U.S. Peace Corps
P.O. Box 7013
Airmail Distribution Center
N.A.I.A. 1300
Pasay City, Philippines
For larger packages, I will have a new address, so they can be sent directly to my site. I'll email it out later.
Blogger's being slow with the pictures, so I'm going to try and put some new ones up on Flikr... check it out!
Final Training Project
Here are some excerpts from an evaluation I wrote on our final project for training, a mangrove cleanup and poster contest done at a local elementary school. Maybe this can help give you an idea of some of the things I'll be working on here, and some of the issues that we face.
Proposal
Project Description:
This project will include school children and community members. There will be a short educational session in classrooms at Tapon Norte Elementary School that explains the importance of mangroves in their community and how they are connected to nutrition. In addition there will be a poster making contest that also focuses on how the two are connected. Toward the end of the school day, there will be an organized Mangrove clean up with the help of the other two clusters and local community members. In the evening, there will be a showing of a short educational video about mangroves, prizes for the best posters (as judged by teachers), and a showing of the movie “Finding Nemo”.
Project Goal(s) and Objective(s):
To reinforce the importance of mangroves in the community and the idea of actively caring for the environment. There is already an awareness of the mangroves among both children and adults, but further education and reinforcement will be useful. Another objective is to clean up the mangrove area and further educate about environmental stewardship.
Project Justification: (Why is this a need for your community?)
The majority of residents in Tapon Norte are fisher folk, or rely directly on fishing-related activities as a source of income and food. Mangroves are an important part of the coastal ecosystem, which most residents here realize. However, further education, especially with the future leaders of the community, is always needed. Also, there is currently an unacceptable level of garbage in the mangroves. While mangroves are good at filtering out toxins, having loose rubbish strewn throughout the area poses a number of environmental risks. Having the school children help clean up the area can begin to reinforce that caring for the environment is important, and that they can directly and easily make positive changes.
Evaluation
Timeliness:
Continuing to take care of the environment and educate the community is important at any stage of the CRM process. Tapon Norte has already been successful in planting many mangroves and the crucial stakeholders recognize their value. However, as trash builds up, mangroves can have their effectiveness dampened – as well as the other problems litter brings to the environment - and it’s important to continue to educate so that the mangroves are effective in the future.
Impact in the Community:
It’s hard to judge the lasting impact of the event in the community, but we can be pleased that the children were very excited throughout the process, and that they will tell their family and friends about the fun they had and what they learned. Conversations were overheard between the president of the Fisherman’s Peoples Organization and the schoolteachers, where the president was expressing shame and dismay that it took outsiders to spur a cleanup, so we definitely opened up some eyes and showed that the environment was important. The community was also paying close attention to the movies shown – including documentaries about Apo Island’s marine sanctuary and mangroves in Bohol, and Finding Nemo. Particularly with the first two, learning more about success stories on nearby islands could make local residents interested in seeing where they can take their environment.
Sustainability of the Initiative:
The president of the PO was also talking about how he wanted to begin a monthly cleanup of the mangroves and get people to take pride in cleaning and maintaining the mangroves. If this is the case, and the local will is there, this one small event could indeed be the start of a sustainable initiative. Education is also good for sustainability, so the more that students know about their mangroves, the more likely it is that they will take care of them in the future.
Challenges Faced:
· The amount of trash present in the mangroves was underestimated, so our hope of having a stunning visual impact was not realized as we couldn’t really clean everything. We learned that it would take some heavy-duty supplies and a very dedicated, strong workforce to really clean it.
· Some of the key points that we were trying to impart through this activity – such as not littering – clearly did not get through to some participants, as we had to pick up some of the plastic gloves used for trash pick-up off the ground, and there was a lot of litter left on the basketball court after the movie. This was disheartening.
· When the president of the PO was giving his speech, imploring the community to take pride in the mangroves and help keep them clean, he was very hard to hear and multiple people left, including many of the adults present at the time. This was disappointing because his message is what would help make the project more sustainable.
Proposal
Project Description:
This project will include school children and community members. There will be a short educational session in classrooms at Tapon Norte Elementary School that explains the importance of mangroves in their community and how they are connected to nutrition. In addition there will be a poster making contest that also focuses on how the two are connected. Toward the end of the school day, there will be an organized Mangrove clean up with the help of the other two clusters and local community members. In the evening, there will be a showing of a short educational video about mangroves, prizes for the best posters (as judged by teachers), and a showing of the movie “Finding Nemo”.
Project Goal(s) and Objective(s):
To reinforce the importance of mangroves in the community and the idea of actively caring for the environment. There is already an awareness of the mangroves among both children and adults, but further education and reinforcement will be useful. Another objective is to clean up the mangrove area and further educate about environmental stewardship.
Project Justification: (Why is this a need for your community?)
The majority of residents in Tapon Norte are fisher folk, or rely directly on fishing-related activities as a source of income and food. Mangroves are an important part of the coastal ecosystem, which most residents here realize. However, further education, especially with the future leaders of the community, is always needed. Also, there is currently an unacceptable level of garbage in the mangroves. While mangroves are good at filtering out toxins, having loose rubbish strewn throughout the area poses a number of environmental risks. Having the school children help clean up the area can begin to reinforce that caring for the environment is important, and that they can directly and easily make positive changes.
Evaluation
Timeliness:
Continuing to take care of the environment and educate the community is important at any stage of the CRM process. Tapon Norte has already been successful in planting many mangroves and the crucial stakeholders recognize their value. However, as trash builds up, mangroves can have their effectiveness dampened – as well as the other problems litter brings to the environment - and it’s important to continue to educate so that the mangroves are effective in the future.
Impact in the Community:
It’s hard to judge the lasting impact of the event in the community, but we can be pleased that the children were very excited throughout the process, and that they will tell their family and friends about the fun they had and what they learned. Conversations were overheard between the president of the Fisherman’s Peoples Organization and the schoolteachers, where the president was expressing shame and dismay that it took outsiders to spur a cleanup, so we definitely opened up some eyes and showed that the environment was important. The community was also paying close attention to the movies shown – including documentaries about Apo Island’s marine sanctuary and mangroves in Bohol, and Finding Nemo. Particularly with the first two, learning more about success stories on nearby islands could make local residents interested in seeing where they can take their environment.
Sustainability of the Initiative:
The president of the PO was also talking about how he wanted to begin a monthly cleanup of the mangroves and get people to take pride in cleaning and maintaining the mangroves. If this is the case, and the local will is there, this one small event could indeed be the start of a sustainable initiative. Education is also good for sustainability, so the more that students know about their mangroves, the more likely it is that they will take care of them in the future.
Challenges Faced:
· The amount of trash present in the mangroves was underestimated, so our hope of having a stunning visual impact was not realized as we couldn’t really clean everything. We learned that it would take some heavy-duty supplies and a very dedicated, strong workforce to really clean it.
· Some of the key points that we were trying to impart through this activity – such as not littering – clearly did not get through to some participants, as we had to pick up some of the plastic gloves used for trash pick-up off the ground, and there was a lot of litter left on the basketball court after the movie. This was disheartening.
· When the president of the PO was giving his speech, imploring the community to take pride in the mangroves and help keep them clean, he was very hard to hear and multiple people left, including many of the adults present at the time. This was disappointing because his message is what would help make the project more sustainable.
The Quest for 14 Kilometers
After a Saturday session in Zamboangita, a few trainees and I decided to go snorkeling and check out a local coral reef. Located in a tranquil bay with a fine gray sand beach, scenic vistas of mountains, palm trees, and Apo Island, the reef featured a healthy amount of coral and tropical aquatic life. As it approached 6:45 pm, I decided I’d better start the journey back to San Jose, one that would require catching a ride to Dumaguete, then transferring in order to get home. There is no method of transportation save for private vehicles that travels straight through Dumaguete, which always adds to the total travel time. Still, I figured I had more than enough time to take the 40 minute ride to Dumaguete and catch a jeepney before the last one left at some mysterious, non-set time between 8:00 and 8:30. I wanted to get home for a late dinner, and to get a good sleep, because I had my last scuba diving class early the next morning.
A fellow trainee and I walked up to the national highway to the center of town and began waiting for a ride to come by. After a few minutes, it became clear that the jeepneys were no longer running, instead we’d have to catch a Ceres bus, the private bus line that barrels down the highway at ridiculous speeds, honking and weaving through the already crazy traffic. I decided to try a trick – I’d go to the nearby bakery and buy a couple things, and while I was there, a bus would probably come. It almost worked, but the bus that came wasn’t going all the way to Dumaguete. After a few more minutes, a Ceres bus finally came. I jumped out into the road and began wildly waving my arms- I wanted to make sure to be seen in the dark. The bus swerved into the opposite lane to avoid the jeepney parked on the road behind me and continued to race towards the city, without me on it. I cursed my luck and wondered how I was going to get to Dumaguete when the only ride available wouldn’t even consider picking me up. Later I found out that that particular bus was a one-stop only express bus, which made me feel a little better. Finally, an out-of-place easy-ride – which is a small jeepney – pulled up and we got on. To my surprise, 3 of our other Peace Corps friends, who had taken a longer time snorkeling, were also on it. We happily rode on. I was the only one going to Dumaguete, so everybody else got off along the way.
As I approached the city, it was already 8:15 and I felt dubious about my chances of making the easy-ride, so I got off before, at the Ceres terminal. In the evening, there is only one bus per hour, the last one leaving at 10:00. I resigned myself to the fact that I’d have to wait until the 9:00 bus to get home. Arriving at the terminal, I saw with dismay that the 9:00 bus was already filled to capacity, which does not mean that every seat is full. It means that every seat is beyond full, every possible space for standing is filled, the stairways are crammed, and people have laid claim on the choice spots for hanging off the side already. If I was going to catch this bus, I would have to take a death-wish spot, either on top (there’s a ladder going up the side in case you want to do this), or precariously hanging off the side with no more than a hand gripping a window and half a foot on a stair. I resigned myself to the fact that I’d probably have to wait until the 10:00 bus to get home. I tend to get irritated with inefficient transportation mechanisms, so at this point frustrated, angry thoughts started going through my head. I wondered: why do the easy-rides stop before demand does? Doesn’t one driver out of the hundreds want to make a 9:00 run and make some extra money? Why would a 170% full bus wait for 45 minutes before leaving, just to maintain an unnecessary schedule? Why doesn’t Ceres run more buses on Saturday night, and why do Filipinos put up with this nonsense?
After a few announcements I didn’t understand because my Cebuano isn’t yet good enough to understand garbled intercom language, I went over to the waiting area and sat down. A few minutes before 9:00, the packed bus left, leaving the rest of us still trying to get north behind. At about 9:15, a new bus pulled up and flipped on the sign indicating it would be traveling north. Determined not to miss it, I ran with the crowd and started to get on. Unfortunately, we were informed that this bus would not be leaving despite all the purposeful indications that it would. Everybody ran to the ticket counter instead, so I grudgingly followed, thoroughly annoyed with the entire country by this time. Filipinos only sort of use lines. It’s more of a blob, and I haven’t yet figured out how to correctly work them. Despite always being the tallest in the line, and probably the most conspicuous, I often have a hard time getting waited on. Eventually, finally, I got near the front of the line, just as the bus was pulling up. I desperately thrust my money directly in front of the ticket-taker’s face, after patience proved to be fruitless, and still found no luck. I realized that if I didn’t leave then, I probably wouldn’t ever get home. I turned and ran toward the bus and forced my way up the stairway. I made it all the way to the top stair – not bad!
The next half hour was spent getting closer than I ever wanted to my host country nationals. Space was made where there was none, and I got slowly pushed into the aisle, eventually getting into a position with my weight awkwardly distributed to one leg, both hands gripping the bar above, a shoulder digging into my left butt cheek. “Very hot!” says an older man with a smile, who forced his way up the stairs and made me feel like I was back at leadership camp trying to fit 20 people on a five-by-five foot board. “Init kaayo”, I agreed, to his delight. I had a short conversation in Cebuano with them, but they quickly lose interest. Sweat began dripping down my arms. I also realized how strange it feels to have sweat dripping down your back, but not be able to do anything about it. We stayed this way for 20 minutes. I began dreaming of comfortable German trains, or at least the worst bus in the King County Metro system. Ten minutes before scheduled departure time, I realized with delight that I was not the only person on this bus who is impatient and extremely anxious to leave when a couple men behind me started banging on the roof. Finally, two minutes ahead of schedule, we mercifully pulled out of the station and begin the journey. Instead of forgetting that brakes or restraint exist, our driver went painfully slow. I couldn’t see out the windows very well, and spent the journey straining to see the lights in front of San Jose that I recognized. Much to my dismay, the conductor caught up with me and I was required to pay my fare – I’d thought in my head this whole time that at least I managed to not pay for this. When we finally arrived, I rapped a coin on the overhead bar, which stops the bus with remarkable efficiency (there aren’t any specified stops on most buses here – you get on and off as you please, provided you are able to persuade the driver to stop). I’m usually one of the first people off the bus – probably because everybody else living around me is smart enough to get home before they have to resort to the Ceres bus. Because of this, it was nearly impossible to get through the mass of people between where I was standing and the door, and getting off required the 8 daredevils in the stairway to hop off as I bullied my way through the crowd. I stood on the side of the road, wiped sweat off my forehead, and waited for the bus to pull away, swearing to myself that it would take an incredibly exciting event to ever keep me in Dumaguete past 8:00 again.
A fellow trainee and I walked up to the national highway to the center of town and began waiting for a ride to come by. After a few minutes, it became clear that the jeepneys were no longer running, instead we’d have to catch a Ceres bus, the private bus line that barrels down the highway at ridiculous speeds, honking and weaving through the already crazy traffic. I decided to try a trick – I’d go to the nearby bakery and buy a couple things, and while I was there, a bus would probably come. It almost worked, but the bus that came wasn’t going all the way to Dumaguete. After a few more minutes, a Ceres bus finally came. I jumped out into the road and began wildly waving my arms- I wanted to make sure to be seen in the dark. The bus swerved into the opposite lane to avoid the jeepney parked on the road behind me and continued to race towards the city, without me on it. I cursed my luck and wondered how I was going to get to Dumaguete when the only ride available wouldn’t even consider picking me up. Later I found out that that particular bus was a one-stop only express bus, which made me feel a little better. Finally, an out-of-place easy-ride – which is a small jeepney – pulled up and we got on. To my surprise, 3 of our other Peace Corps friends, who had taken a longer time snorkeling, were also on it. We happily rode on. I was the only one going to Dumaguete, so everybody else got off along the way.
As I approached the city, it was already 8:15 and I felt dubious about my chances of making the easy-ride, so I got off before, at the Ceres terminal. In the evening, there is only one bus per hour, the last one leaving at 10:00. I resigned myself to the fact that I’d have to wait until the 9:00 bus to get home. Arriving at the terminal, I saw with dismay that the 9:00 bus was already filled to capacity, which does not mean that every seat is full. It means that every seat is beyond full, every possible space for standing is filled, the stairways are crammed, and people have laid claim on the choice spots for hanging off the side already. If I was going to catch this bus, I would have to take a death-wish spot, either on top (there’s a ladder going up the side in case you want to do this), or precariously hanging off the side with no more than a hand gripping a window and half a foot on a stair. I resigned myself to the fact that I’d probably have to wait until the 10:00 bus to get home. I tend to get irritated with inefficient transportation mechanisms, so at this point frustrated, angry thoughts started going through my head. I wondered: why do the easy-rides stop before demand does? Doesn’t one driver out of the hundreds want to make a 9:00 run and make some extra money? Why would a 170% full bus wait for 45 minutes before leaving, just to maintain an unnecessary schedule? Why doesn’t Ceres run more buses on Saturday night, and why do Filipinos put up with this nonsense?
After a few announcements I didn’t understand because my Cebuano isn’t yet good enough to understand garbled intercom language, I went over to the waiting area and sat down. A few minutes before 9:00, the packed bus left, leaving the rest of us still trying to get north behind. At about 9:15, a new bus pulled up and flipped on the sign indicating it would be traveling north. Determined not to miss it, I ran with the crowd and started to get on. Unfortunately, we were informed that this bus would not be leaving despite all the purposeful indications that it would. Everybody ran to the ticket counter instead, so I grudgingly followed, thoroughly annoyed with the entire country by this time. Filipinos only sort of use lines. It’s more of a blob, and I haven’t yet figured out how to correctly work them. Despite always being the tallest in the line, and probably the most conspicuous, I often have a hard time getting waited on. Eventually, finally, I got near the front of the line, just as the bus was pulling up. I desperately thrust my money directly in front of the ticket-taker’s face, after patience proved to be fruitless, and still found no luck. I realized that if I didn’t leave then, I probably wouldn’t ever get home. I turned and ran toward the bus and forced my way up the stairway. I made it all the way to the top stair – not bad!
The next half hour was spent getting closer than I ever wanted to my host country nationals. Space was made where there was none, and I got slowly pushed into the aisle, eventually getting into a position with my weight awkwardly distributed to one leg, both hands gripping the bar above, a shoulder digging into my left butt cheek. “Very hot!” says an older man with a smile, who forced his way up the stairs and made me feel like I was back at leadership camp trying to fit 20 people on a five-by-five foot board. “Init kaayo”, I agreed, to his delight. I had a short conversation in Cebuano with them, but they quickly lose interest. Sweat began dripping down my arms. I also realized how strange it feels to have sweat dripping down your back, but not be able to do anything about it. We stayed this way for 20 minutes. I began dreaming of comfortable German trains, or at least the worst bus in the King County Metro system. Ten minutes before scheduled departure time, I realized with delight that I was not the only person on this bus who is impatient and extremely anxious to leave when a couple men behind me started banging on the roof. Finally, two minutes ahead of schedule, we mercifully pulled out of the station and begin the journey. Instead of forgetting that brakes or restraint exist, our driver went painfully slow. I couldn’t see out the windows very well, and spent the journey straining to see the lights in front of San Jose that I recognized. Much to my dismay, the conductor caught up with me and I was required to pay my fare – I’d thought in my head this whole time that at least I managed to not pay for this. When we finally arrived, I rapped a coin on the overhead bar, which stops the bus with remarkable efficiency (there aren’t any specified stops on most buses here – you get on and off as you please, provided you are able to persuade the driver to stop). I’m usually one of the first people off the bus – probably because everybody else living around me is smart enough to get home before they have to resort to the Ceres bus. Because of this, it was nearly impossible to get through the mass of people between where I was standing and the door, and getting off required the 8 daredevils in the stairway to hop off as I bullied my way through the crowd. I stood on the side of the road, wiped sweat off my forehead, and waited for the bus to pull away, swearing to myself that it would take an incredibly exciting event to ever keep me in Dumaguete past 8:00 again.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Scuba Diver Ko!
I didn't learn to swim until 5th grade, and had snorkeled exactly one time, in 9th grade, prior to coming to the Philippines. So I never really thought that I'd be a certified PADI Open Water Scuba Diver a mere two months after arriving at my training site. But I am! 6 PCTs in my training batch finished a quick but intense training course over the last 3 Sundays. Yesterday we made two dives at Apo Island to finish it up, which is one of the top dive sites in one of the top dive countries in the world. Which means that while a lot of people have to dive to the bottom of a lake and look for a toilet or fishing lures while they're getting certified, I was trying to get my buoyancy correct while looking at sea turtles, large amounts of tropical fish, and a giant wall of coral going 40 meters straight down. It's like diving in a tropical aquarium but so much better. Hopefully this is a skill I'll be able to use at my site, since one of the marine reserves is very deep and it's hard to get any good data or monitoring via snorkeling. I'll surely be doing it for fun, but the costs add up, even in the Philippines. Now the objective is to get NGOs to pay me to dive. One of my friends took a lot of underwater pictures yesterday, so hopefully I can get some up. New on my wish list: underwater casing for my camera.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Hygiene
In addition to updates on what I'm generally doing, I will be writing a few short little essays on what life is like in the Philippines. I've got some ideas bouncing around in my head, never take the time to write them down, and never feel like writing them when I'm at the internet cafe. Except today!
When most people think of Peace Corps volunteers, especially males, they would likely think of bearded, long-haired hippies who emitted an untraceable but distinctly bad odor. I didn't really plan on smelling bad, but I definitely thought I'd probably experiment with beards and so on while in the Peace Corps. Long hair I've tried and liked - although never to pony-tail length, which is another Peace Corps image. But I can't imagine that for myself in the coolest of climates and the thought of essentially wearing a long woolen hat here sounds very unenticing. There are a couple PCVs here who have the long hair, and some with beards, and some who smell. But as with many other things, Peace Corps Philippines is a little different.
Filipinos value personal appearance to a very high degree. It's much more acceptable to be late for a meeting with neatly styled hair, clean shaven, and wearing pressed pants than it is to be on time and look like a scrub. Even families who live in small nipa huts with no running water climb on to jeepneys smelling fresh and clean. This can be a bit of a challenge for me, since I don't really like shaving very often. But I'm doing it anyway since I want everybody to think I'm gwapo. The more gwapo you are, the easier time you'll have getting things done here. Short hair isn't a problem for now, because it's already hot enough as it is. But I've let my hair grow since I've got here and now it's (gasp!) touching the tops of my ears. My host mother asks "You will not get your hair cut?" in the way that just melts my heart. I say, soon, but not yet. Maybe just a trim. It's consensus that my GI-style haircut right before I left did not look very good (but boy was it handy first adjusting to the heat). I get similar questions if my shorts are too wrinkled or I'm just wearing my swimsuit for the third day in a row (I might as well, I'm probably going to be swimming anyway) - "You will not change your pants?". I think she thinks I'm stinky because she's taken to going into my room when I'm gone and washing all of the clothes that aren't neatly folded and put into my closet. Not that I'm complaining. My friend Jon is also often hassled about his hair (slightly longer than mine) and his host family insisted on re-washing clothes that were freshly cleaned, pressed, and packaged at a local resort because they were "soiled".
Beyond these issues, though, there's the other major issue when it comes to hygiene - the Comfort Room, or CR, as it's known. In Europe you might call it the WC, or in the US, perhaps the bathroom. This was one of my major fears about the Peace Corps - the potential that I'd be joining a "don't eat with your left hand" society. But millions of people across the world do it every day, you say. But look at the disease rates and life expectancies in those countries, I say. Luckily, the Philippines falls somewhere in between. To take a shower, there is typically a large garbage can in the bathroom and a "dipper", which is a medium-sized plastic cup with a handle on it if properly manufactured, or the bottom half of a large Drano-style bottle if you're going on the cheap. You simply pour water over yourself with the dipper, wash up, and rinse. It's really quite easy and I'm sure it saves water. I even enjoyed the relative coldness of the water at first, since I was sweating from the moment I woke up. But now that the rains have come and the weather is cooler, that first splash doesn't feel nearly as nice.
The dipper has other major significance for toilet flushing, and in many cases, cleaning yourself up. American-style sit down flush toilets are rare here in households, although my upcoming host family at site actually has one. Mostly they're at nicer restaurants in the city - McDonald's definitely counts as a nicer restaurant. (It brings a whole new appreciation to the term American Standard. That old joke about how the American Standard is a toilet - guys, you don't understand that that's actually quite a good thing.) Most Filipino toilets are about a foot off the ground and lacking a seat. You could call it a squat toilet, although it's rather difficult to do that and I think most people just sit down, except in public. To flush, you have to pour a few rapid dipper-fulls down. It's definitely preferable to have a bucket handy for your larger-volume needs. My family is blessed with toilet paper (which you don't flush down the toilet, because it would clog the pipes) but a lot of the other PCVs have to just use the dipper. The 45-degree back bend angle is key, because you don't have the accuracy of a bidet. So far, I haven't had to use this method, although I'm sure there will be a point in the next 2 years that I do. I don't see any reason to rush ahead with it, even though others swear that it's a refreshing mini-shower in the middle of the day.
I'd hoped to include some pictures, not only of the subjects discussed above, but also of my Apo Island trip, dolphin watching, and more. But this internet isn't going too fast, so I'll do it another time. Only a week and a half more of training, then we're headed off to Manila for a conference with our counterparts. Swearing in is on August 3, then it's back to Negros Oriental for 2 years to begin life as a legitimate Peace Corps Volunteer.
When most people think of Peace Corps volunteers, especially males, they would likely think of bearded, long-haired hippies who emitted an untraceable but distinctly bad odor. I didn't really plan on smelling bad, but I definitely thought I'd probably experiment with beards and so on while in the Peace Corps. Long hair I've tried and liked - although never to pony-tail length, which is another Peace Corps image. But I can't imagine that for myself in the coolest of climates and the thought of essentially wearing a long woolen hat here sounds very unenticing. There are a couple PCVs here who have the long hair, and some with beards, and some who smell. But as with many other things, Peace Corps Philippines is a little different.
Filipinos value personal appearance to a very high degree. It's much more acceptable to be late for a meeting with neatly styled hair, clean shaven, and wearing pressed pants than it is to be on time and look like a scrub. Even families who live in small nipa huts with no running water climb on to jeepneys smelling fresh and clean. This can be a bit of a challenge for me, since I don't really like shaving very often. But I'm doing it anyway since I want everybody to think I'm gwapo. The more gwapo you are, the easier time you'll have getting things done here. Short hair isn't a problem for now, because it's already hot enough as it is. But I've let my hair grow since I've got here and now it's (gasp!) touching the tops of my ears. My host mother asks "You will not get your hair cut?" in the way that just melts my heart. I say, soon, but not yet. Maybe just a trim. It's consensus that my GI-style haircut right before I left did not look very good (but boy was it handy first adjusting to the heat). I get similar questions if my shorts are too wrinkled or I'm just wearing my swimsuit for the third day in a row (I might as well, I'm probably going to be swimming anyway) - "You will not change your pants?". I think she thinks I'm stinky because she's taken to going into my room when I'm gone and washing all of the clothes that aren't neatly folded and put into my closet. Not that I'm complaining. My friend Jon is also often hassled about his hair (slightly longer than mine) and his host family insisted on re-washing clothes that were freshly cleaned, pressed, and packaged at a local resort because they were "soiled".
Beyond these issues, though, there's the other major issue when it comes to hygiene - the Comfort Room, or CR, as it's known. In Europe you might call it the WC, or in the US, perhaps the bathroom. This was one of my major fears about the Peace Corps - the potential that I'd be joining a "don't eat with your left hand" society. But millions of people across the world do it every day, you say. But look at the disease rates and life expectancies in those countries, I say. Luckily, the Philippines falls somewhere in between. To take a shower, there is typically a large garbage can in the bathroom and a "dipper", which is a medium-sized plastic cup with a handle on it if properly manufactured, or the bottom half of a large Drano-style bottle if you're going on the cheap. You simply pour water over yourself with the dipper, wash up, and rinse. It's really quite easy and I'm sure it saves water. I even enjoyed the relative coldness of the water at first, since I was sweating from the moment I woke up. But now that the rains have come and the weather is cooler, that first splash doesn't feel nearly as nice.
The dipper has other major significance for toilet flushing, and in many cases, cleaning yourself up. American-style sit down flush toilets are rare here in households, although my upcoming host family at site actually has one. Mostly they're at nicer restaurants in the city - McDonald's definitely counts as a nicer restaurant. (It brings a whole new appreciation to the term American Standard. That old joke about how the American Standard is a toilet - guys, you don't understand that that's actually quite a good thing.) Most Filipino toilets are about a foot off the ground and lacking a seat. You could call it a squat toilet, although it's rather difficult to do that and I think most people just sit down, except in public. To flush, you have to pour a few rapid dipper-fulls down. It's definitely preferable to have a bucket handy for your larger-volume needs. My family is blessed with toilet paper (which you don't flush down the toilet, because it would clog the pipes) but a lot of the other PCVs have to just use the dipper. The 45-degree back bend angle is key, because you don't have the accuracy of a bidet. So far, I haven't had to use this method, although I'm sure there will be a point in the next 2 years that I do. I don't see any reason to rush ahead with it, even though others swear that it's a refreshing mini-shower in the middle of the day.
I'd hoped to include some pictures, not only of the subjects discussed above, but also of my Apo Island trip, dolphin watching, and more. But this internet isn't going too fast, so I'll do it another time. Only a week and a half more of training, then we're headed off to Manila for a conference with our counterparts. Swearing in is on August 3, then it's back to Negros Oriental for 2 years to begin life as a legitimate Peace Corps Volunteer.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Independence Day
I definitely didn't intend for there to be a month-long gap on this blog. It's not that nothing interesting has been happening. On the contrary, too many interesting things have been happening and my internet access has been limited. I just sent out a huge email regarding my site placement and recent activities, but I don't have the energy right now to go through and edit it so the US Government doesn't think I'm giving away any dangerous information. If you are reading this blog, but did not receive that email and wish to, send me a message at cbosman@gmail.com and I'll add you to my distribution list.
I hope everybody has a great 4th of July. The Philippines is great, but man could I go for some fireworks, hot dogs, baseball, and apple pie right now. I almost bought some American flag flip flops today to try and compensate, but they only had up to size 9.
I hope everybody has a great 4th of July. The Philippines is great, but man could I go for some fireworks, hot dogs, baseball, and apple pie right now. I almost bought some American flag flip flops today to try and compensate, but they only had up to size 9.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Pictures!
I've set up a website for photos. This will be the spot for pictures during my Peace Corps time. You can view it here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/craigbosman/
Enjoy!
http://www.flickr.com/photos/craigbosman/
Enjoy!
Friday, June 1, 2007
Baalllliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin
As I've mentioned before, basketball is nuts here in the Philippines. Despite their typically short stature, Filipinos as a nation have taken to basketball as few other cultures have. It's probably bigger here than in most places in the United States. To the left is a picture of the semi-final game at my town's basketball championships. As you can see, the outdoor court is completely packed. Spectators are no more than a foot from the court, standing 5-10 deep. The stage and the bleachers are totally overrun. Kids are standing on speakers and anything they can find. With each three-pointer, missed layup, or steal the chorus of screams is deafining. The tournament was inter-barangay, so both sides had roughly equal support groups. It seems like most boys play. One barangay had a team where literally 8 of the 12 players had the name Renacia on their jerseys... it's a family affair.
Although the players in this tournament had on nice uniforms and basketball shoes, and this court is reasonably nice (flat, painted concrete, good rims, well lit), basketball is played anywhere and everywhere here, and typically in flip-flops. When I play in my shoes I feel like I have an unfair advantage, but playing in flip-flops is hard and awkward. But guys here will play full-court, 5-on-5 games with everybody wearing them.
If you don't want to play basketball at a certain time of the day, you can definitely watch it. There is a strictly-NBA channel that shows all sorts of old highlights, interviews, and games, as well as current playoff games. There are two Filipino basketball leagues, the PBA and the PBL Former Husky Jamaal Williams is one of the hot new imports in the PBA, which has teams named for corporations. He plays for the Sta. Lucia Realtors and scored 35 points in a loss to the Coca-Cola Tigers in the one game I saw him play so far. (The best team name, though, has to be the Talk N' Text Phone Pals). In no other culture could you walk into a house and find two teenage boys watching a taped WNBA game.
I see basketball as a major tool for cultural entry while I'm here, and it will definitely be a good way to run off the heavy meat diet. The first kids I met in my town were at the basketball court. When I want to tell people where I'm from, I simply mention the Seattle Supersonics (the soon to be Kevin Durant-led Sonics??). Plus, I always get to play center.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Field Assessments
For part of our job, we have to actually assess the coastal resources in our community. From a biological standpoint, this means mangroves, seagrasses, and coral reefs. Today we learned how to do a seagrass assessment (plop down a box and count, essentially), but I took the time to don a mask and snorkel. I went snorkeling once in Hawaii in 8th grade, but that's it. I'm not the most confident swimmer in the world, and so I was a little nervous about it. But it's AWESOME! We were in an area with only a couple little patches of coral, but I still saw a few clown fish (Nemo), a puffer fish, crazy urchins, and many other fish I recognize from the aquarium. Saturday we are learning how to assess coral reefs by slowly snorkeling behind a boat. I am sure there are going to be challenges, but honestly, my job seems pretty sweet. As soon as I can, I'm going to buy a mask, snorkel, and fins and make snorkeling a regular hobby of mine. Soon we're going to Apo Island and it's going to blow my mind.
Monday, May 28, 2007
Laundry By Hand
I didn't really start doing laundry until I got to college, and of course I only used a washing machine, with dryer. Put in your clothes, make 2-3 quick trips back to the laundry room over the course of a couple hours, and continue on with your day, all while doing something better than actually scrubbing things.
In the Philippines, most people don't have automatic washers. I think I could have my laundry done by my host family, but I decided I'd like to give it a go by hand, so I told my host mother and started getting my things. It was a complete spectacle. No less than six children and three grown women were watching me, laughing, coaching, and incredulously confirming that I'd never washed clothes by hand. There was also a completely wasted man who expressed an interest (this was 1 pm on a Sunday) in it, but scolded the 15-year old girl who was mostly coaching me for speaking to me in English. It's been somewhat of a fishbowl existence here, but nothing has compared to this so far. I stuck with it but I don't think I did it right. My hands and arms got really irritated with the soap, and I'm pretty sure my clothes aren't clean. They also took at least 24 hours to dry. For all I know, they still aren't dry.
To most people in the world, this is the way of life. The interesting thing about the Peace Corps is that I could make it my way of life too, or I could probably easily pay somebody to do my laundry for me, even on my Volunteer salary. As much as we want to integrate into the community, the fact of the matter will always remain that I'm a plane ride and job offer away from a life of comparative luxury, and it will continue to be this way throughout my service here. It will always separate me from most people here, and it will be a continual temptation to take the easy way out. Most Volunteers seem to pay somebody for their laundry, and I'll probably end up doing the same. In a lot of ways so far, it seems like being a Volunteer here presents a different set of challenges than say, The Gambia or Mali. Of course, I'll have to see how it goes when I actually get to my site..
In the Philippines, most people don't have automatic washers. I think I could have my laundry done by my host family, but I decided I'd like to give it a go by hand, so I told my host mother and started getting my things. It was a complete spectacle. No less than six children and three grown women were watching me, laughing, coaching, and incredulously confirming that I'd never washed clothes by hand. There was also a completely wasted man who expressed an interest (this was 1 pm on a Sunday) in it, but scolded the 15-year old girl who was mostly coaching me for speaking to me in English. It's been somewhat of a fishbowl existence here, but nothing has compared to this so far. I stuck with it but I don't think I did it right. My hands and arms got really irritated with the soap, and I'm pretty sure my clothes aren't clean. They also took at least 24 hours to dry. For all I know, they still aren't dry.
To most people in the world, this is the way of life. The interesting thing about the Peace Corps is that I could make it my way of life too, or I could probably easily pay somebody to do my laundry for me, even on my Volunteer salary. As much as we want to integrate into the community, the fact of the matter will always remain that I'm a plane ride and job offer away from a life of comparative luxury, and it will continue to be this way throughout my service here. It will always separate me from most people here, and it will be a continual temptation to take the easy way out. Most Volunteers seem to pay somebody for their laundry, and I'll probably end up doing the same. In a lot of ways so far, it seems like being a Volunteer here presents a different set of challenges than say, The Gambia or Mali. Of course, I'll have to see how it goes when I actually get to my site..
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Initial Orientation and The Beginning of Training
One thing you quickly learn about the Peace Corps when applying is that a lot of patience and a lot of flexibility is required. To that end, I basically stopped even trying to anticipate what will happen with my assignment, etc. a while ago and have just been going with whatever is announced to me. Still, I was surprised to learn that I'd be going to the Visayas only a week after arriving in Manila. Initial orientation was overall pretty good, we got to meet a lot of the people involved in Peace Corps Philippines administration and familiarized with policies, procedures, etc. I also got really scared and anxious when we went over the showering/bathroom techniques (but it's ok: the dipper shower isn't really bad at all, and my host family has toilet paper). Of course, the most important thing about the initial orientation was getting to know my fellow trainees, which especially happened because we were sequestered on our compound.
Still, after a week, we were ripped away from everybody and it's the summer camp syndrome all over again: you get close with a group of people and spend every day with them, but after a week you hardly see each other again. Except in the Peace Corps case it's slightly different. Our group of 65 was split into three different groups, one learning Tagalog, one learning Ilokano, and one learning Cebuano (that's me). The Cebuano group is all CRM people and we're all on Negros Oriental, a province in the Visayas, centered around Dumaguete. There are 16 of us down here, and we're broken up into three clusters of 5-6 people who are living and training in the same city. In my group there's a 26 year old guy from Tennessee, a married couple in their late 20s from California, and a woman in her 50s from Massachusetts. It can make for some interesting group dynamics at times but overall I'm glad to have good companionship and feel that the struggles will make my experience richer - plus there's really cute kids in my host family.
I'll definitely try to post pictures of my house soon, but I wanted to spend the first couple weeks not acting like a tourist. I'm living with a 68-year old widower on a family compound. It's definitely family style here, especially in my barangay (neighborhood). My 38-year old host brother lives right next door and hangs out at the house most of the time, with his 2 year old son. The mother is an overseas worker in Hong Kong (which is extremely common for Filipinos. It seems like everybody has a relative working in North America, the Middle East, Africa, or a rich Asian city. Typically they are maids, household help, or professionals like nurses, etc.) In addition to the actual residents, there are always brothers, sisters, nieces, and nephews around. A lot of things are different than the typical American house: open air at all times (why bother sealing the house when it's always 75 degrees +), house lizards, mosquito nets necessary, drinking mineral water, and the noise! Roosters start at 3am and basically go nuts for the rest of the day. Neighbors blast music starting at 6 (I woke up to Don't Stop Believin' by Journey the other day). I also ate breakfast with the uncensored version of 50 Cent blasting in my ears. My host mother laughed and said "Disco". If she only knew what he was actually saying.
Training itself is pretty interesting. We'll be placed in a municipality with at least some degree of CRM planning going on, or at least we'll have a defined job when we get there. The new country director really stresses that, and from what I understand, not having anything to do upon arrival at site has been a major frustration for many Volunteers in the past, so I'm excited about that (assuming it actually works that way). Cebuano isn't super hard so far grammatically and there are a decent amount of words shared with Spanish. I think the major challenge for me is going to be understanding what people are saying to me! The technical training seems pretty interesting so far, as well. None of us really have experience with the tropical coastal ecosystem (reefs, seagrass, mangroves) but hopefully I'll learn.
It's been a bit rough chronicling my experience so far. There isn't any internet access in my town, and I'm in Dumaguete no more than once or twice a week, so it's hard to update this. But, I hope as this goes on I'll figure out a better system. Please look forward to posts on: basketball, songs, swimming, and some pictures.
Still, after a week, we were ripped away from everybody and it's the summer camp syndrome all over again: you get close with a group of people and spend every day with them, but after a week you hardly see each other again. Except in the Peace Corps case it's slightly different. Our group of 65 was split into three different groups, one learning Tagalog, one learning Ilokano, and one learning Cebuano (that's me). The Cebuano group is all CRM people and we're all on Negros Oriental, a province in the Visayas, centered around Dumaguete. There are 16 of us down here, and we're broken up into three clusters of 5-6 people who are living and training in the same city. In my group there's a 26 year old guy from Tennessee, a married couple in their late 20s from California, and a woman in her 50s from Massachusetts. It can make for some interesting group dynamics at times but overall I'm glad to have good companionship and feel that the struggles will make my experience richer - plus there's really cute kids in my host family.
I'll definitely try to post pictures of my house soon, but I wanted to spend the first couple weeks not acting like a tourist. I'm living with a 68-year old widower on a family compound. It's definitely family style here, especially in my barangay (neighborhood). My 38-year old host brother lives right next door and hangs out at the house most of the time, with his 2 year old son. The mother is an overseas worker in Hong Kong (which is extremely common for Filipinos. It seems like everybody has a relative working in North America, the Middle East, Africa, or a rich Asian city. Typically they are maids, household help, or professionals like nurses, etc.) In addition to the actual residents, there are always brothers, sisters, nieces, and nephews around. A lot of things are different than the typical American house: open air at all times (why bother sealing the house when it's always 75 degrees +), house lizards, mosquito nets necessary, drinking mineral water, and the noise! Roosters start at 3am and basically go nuts for the rest of the day. Neighbors blast music starting at 6 (I woke up to Don't Stop Believin' by Journey the other day). I also ate breakfast with the uncensored version of 50 Cent blasting in my ears. My host mother laughed and said "Disco". If she only knew what he was actually saying.
Training itself is pretty interesting. We'll be placed in a municipality with at least some degree of CRM planning going on, or at least we'll have a defined job when we get there. The new country director really stresses that, and from what I understand, not having anything to do upon arrival at site has been a major frustration for many Volunteers in the past, so I'm excited about that (assuming it actually works that way). Cebuano isn't super hard so far grammatically and there are a decent amount of words shared with Spanish. I think the major challenge for me is going to be understanding what people are saying to me! The technical training seems pretty interesting so far, as well. None of us really have experience with the tropical coastal ecosystem (reefs, seagrass, mangroves) but hopefully I'll learn.
It's been a bit rough chronicling my experience so far. There isn't any internet access in my town, and I'm in Dumaguete no more than once or twice a week, so it's hard to update this. But, I hope as this goes on I'll figure out a better system. Please look forward to posts on: basketball, songs, swimming, and some pictures.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
It Begins!
After literally years of anticipation and months of serious preparation, being prodded and poked by dentists and doctors, probably being psychoanalyzed on my interview answers and essays, and jumping through countless bureaucratic hoops, I have arrived in the Philippines to begin my Peace Corps service. My reasons for joining are many, but the most overwhelming reasons that really led me to do this are a desire to do something I feel is truly worthwhile and helpful with this part of my life, the desire to fully experience a new culture in order to gain perspective on my own life and culture, and the desire to travel and experience new things.
I began applying about a year and a half ago, targeting the Environmental and Water Resources program, because it was the only program offered that listed Civil Engineering as a good background to have. I initially thought I'd be going to Africa, since I had loved South Africa and just sort of always pictured myself going there. But when that program was full, I decided to not go to Africa and teach but rather wait for this program in Asia in March 2007. March got delayed to May, and I ended up in the Philippines.
My job assignment is called Coastal Resources Management. Another time, I'll explain what my specific duties are more closely, but that will have to wait as I'm still finding out. Essentially, there are very bad environmental problems in this country and the government has identified this and enacted great laws to protect resources, but the reality on the ground is slightly different. There are problems with mangrove deforestation, coral reef degredation (brought on by dynamite and cyanide fishing), trash, lack of recycling, etc. I will be working on some or all of these issues, probably. I'm still waiting to see what part of the country I'll be assigned to, but it looks like there's about a 92% chance I'll be assigned in the Vasayas, which are islands in the middle portion of the country. The major city in this area is Cebu.
This is my second day in Manila and we're staying at a resort of sorts while undergoing our initial orientation, after a 2-day stateside orientation in Los Angeles. There are 65 people in my training class, Philippines Batch 266. They don't want us to be out in Manila for this week since there's a congressional election going on and they can get violent - although there have never been any foreigners targeted in such times. At the end of this week, we will be separated into three groups for a 12-week training period. We'll go to three different areas of the country for language, cultural, and technical training, and live at homestays. After that three months, we'll go to our actual job sites where we'll be spending 2 years. We have homestays for the initial months of that, as well.
I'm excited for this blog, even though I don't have a lot of musings or even information right now. Right now I have a high-speed wireless connection but I'm not sure what kind of internet access I'll have in the later weeks and months, although I'm told it's likely that I'll be near an internet cafe (I didn't bring a laptop). I imagine I will use it as half a mechanism to update family and friends on what I've generally been up to, and half as a way to share some of my observations, thoughts, and learning processes. Please feel free to comment away as this blog goes on.
Also! If you want to send me stuff (of course you do) for the first couple months, the address is as follows:
(for letters)
Craig Bosman, PCT
U.S. Peace Corps
P.O. Box 7013
Airmail Distribution Center
N.A.I.A. 1300
Pasay City, Philippines
(for packages)
Craig Bosman, PCT
c/o the Peace Corps Office
6/F PNB Financial Center
Macapagal Avenue
Pasay City, Philippines 1308
I began applying about a year and a half ago, targeting the Environmental and Water Resources program, because it was the only program offered that listed Civil Engineering as a good background to have. I initially thought I'd be going to Africa, since I had loved South Africa and just sort of always pictured myself going there. But when that program was full, I decided to not go to Africa and teach but rather wait for this program in Asia in March 2007. March got delayed to May, and I ended up in the Philippines.
My job assignment is called Coastal Resources Management. Another time, I'll explain what my specific duties are more closely, but that will have to wait as I'm still finding out. Essentially, there are very bad environmental problems in this country and the government has identified this and enacted great laws to protect resources, but the reality on the ground is slightly different. There are problems with mangrove deforestation, coral reef degredation (brought on by dynamite and cyanide fishing), trash, lack of recycling, etc. I will be working on some or all of these issues, probably. I'm still waiting to see what part of the country I'll be assigned to, but it looks like there's about a 92% chance I'll be assigned in the Vasayas, which are islands in the middle portion of the country. The major city in this area is Cebu.
This is my second day in Manila and we're staying at a resort of sorts while undergoing our initial orientation, after a 2-day stateside orientation in Los Angeles. There are 65 people in my training class, Philippines Batch 266. They don't want us to be out in Manila for this week since there's a congressional election going on and they can get violent - although there have never been any foreigners targeted in such times. At the end of this week, we will be separated into three groups for a 12-week training period. We'll go to three different areas of the country for language, cultural, and technical training, and live at homestays. After that three months, we'll go to our actual job sites where we'll be spending 2 years. We have homestays for the initial months of that, as well.
I'm excited for this blog, even though I don't have a lot of musings or even information right now. Right now I have a high-speed wireless connection but I'm not sure what kind of internet access I'll have in the later weeks and months, although I'm told it's likely that I'll be near an internet cafe (I didn't bring a laptop). I imagine I will use it as half a mechanism to update family and friends on what I've generally been up to, and half as a way to share some of my observations, thoughts, and learning processes. Please feel free to comment away as this blog goes on.
Also! If you want to send me stuff (of course you do) for the first couple months, the address is as follows:
(for letters)
Craig Bosman, PCT
U.S. Peace Corps
P.O. Box 7013
Airmail Distribution Center
N.A.I.A. 1300
Pasay City, Philippines
(for packages)
Craig Bosman, PCT
c/o the Peace Corps Office
6/F PNB Financial Center
Macapagal Avenue
Pasay City, Philippines 1308
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
