Craig In The Philippines

So, this is how it ends

2009-08-11T02:34:00.001-07:00

It's been a very long time since I sent out anything or even posted on my blog, and I hesitate to even write this, uncomfortable and pressed for time as I am in an internet cafe in Cagayan de Oro, Mindanao, Philippines. But seeing as my 27 month Peace Corps service has come to an end, thus marking a major transition in my life, I should probably write something (also, my mother won't stop harrassing me to do so.)

When I applied for the Peace Corps, I wanted to use my skills to help people, to fully experience a new culture, learn a new language, travel, and have unforgettable experiences. It hasn't always materialized as I imagined, but reflecting on my experiences, I think I have achieved all of these things. Since the last time you may have heard from me, I've written and not published, I've photographed and not posted. Someday I'll synthesize all of this coherently, I hope. For now, here's a quick update.

I left my town of Amlan, Negros Oriental one week ago after a busy time wrapping up projects, saying goodbye to my new family and friends, attending despedidas thrown in my honor, and trying to get some alone time to make sense of it all. The end came quickly and felt rather abritrary, being based on 2 years in town rather than any seasonal, cultural, or work-related event. Leaving my town was harder than leaving Seattle, because I don't know if I'll ever be back in the same capacity, though I do hope to return to visit multiple times.

I spent the bulk of my time over the past few months setting up a public library, working with high school students to design and (begin to) paint a huge mural, helping the municipality get a new speedboat for the volunteer coast guard, marketing and developing products made of recycled plastic for a supplemental livelihood project with fisherfolk, and a bunch of other stuff. (I'll post my official Description of Service when I get a chance.)

I've also had the chance to see a lot of the Philippines and have some amazing experiences -- caving among mummies in Sagada, climbing the tallest mountain in my province, swimming with whale sharks in Sorsogon, and enjoying simple things like mountain biking, snorkeling, soccer, and tennis in my town.

For the past week I've been in the forbidden province of Mindanao (there are rebel activities and violence that plague much of the province) but the places I have been are totally safe and absolutely beautiful. We've been whitewater rafting, hiking up volcanoes, relaxing on white sandbars, riding motorcycles, scuba diving, and indulging in great food. I'm soaking in the best of the Philippines for one last time before I move on to travel for a few more weeks. With some Peace Corps buddies, I'll be flying to Thailand tomorrow and spending about a month traveling through Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, and Laos, before heading to Korea for a week+. I arrive home on September 24 and will be promptly kidnapped by my parents and whisked away to Lake Chelan for some quality family time before returning to Seattle to hopefully attend every remaining Mariners game of the season.

I'm not totally sure on my future plans, but here is what I have for now: I'm studying right now for the GRE and plan to take it in October, then spend the first couple months back in the US visiting people, attending copious amounts of sporting events, enjoying the northwest life, and applying to graduate schools for a Master's in Public Affairs/Public Policy to start in 2010. I'm only about 65% sure of this plan right now, it will depend on doing more research into schooling options, where I get in, and how much money is bestowed on me. After the application process is done, I may look for work in the Seattle area or consider a short-term international assignment.

When I was last in the United States, the economy was humming along, Obama was a junior senator, the Sonics were stil in Seattle, the Sounders weren't in the MLS, nobody had ever heard of Sarah Palin, T-Pain, Soulja Boy, or Autotune, iPhones did not yet exist, streetcars had not yet returned to Seattle, and I don't remember texting being very popular. Obviously all of these things have changed, and I am very interested to see what else has changed. For example, I can't recall offhand how many new cousins I have that I haven't yet been able to meet.

Although I have had a fantastic experience in the Peace Corps, with all the ups and downs, I am looking forward to being back home and getting to see everybody. I'm sure it will be an overwhelming experience with some reverse culture shock, but I'm hoping my long road home will help with that and that I'll return to the US a couple years older, a little bit wiser, and ready to start the next step. I'll send out my contact info in the US once I get everything figured out. Thanks for reading this and for all your interest and support over the last two years!

Peace,
Craig

The Story of the Flood

2009-03-25T05:39:00.000-07:00

Alright, I've finally gotten around to editing and revising my flood story, which was mostly written during the ordeal or in its immediate aftermath, and therefore captures the events and emotions quite accurately. I put more time into this than anything I've written thus far for this here blog. It's too long for a blog post, so I've published it via Google Docs and it's available for viewing here:

http://tinyurl.com/craigflood

Now a brief update [spoiler alert]:
- I have moved back into my house and things are, incredibly, more or less back to normal.
- The plane tickets that I was buying when the flood hit resulted in a great trip to the Bicol region of Southern Luzon. I got to visit some friends, climb some mudflows on Mount Mayon, and most awesomely, swim with enormous whale sharks.
- My camera wasn't fixable, so I have no photographs of either the flood or the trip, although I'm trying to get some from neighbors and friends.
- I have a little over 4 months left in the Peace Corps, and this feels weird to me.

Horrendous Flooding

2009-02-11T01:16:00.000-08:00

Some may have already heard the news, but we had another flood, and it was way, way worse. This time I didn't make a funny video because my camera, stored about 7 feet high, was broken in the flood. I am ok, but my house is not. At least it's still standing -- lots of people lost their houses and a few lost their lives. I lack the time and energy to write the essay I want to write about this, and the experience isn't yet over, anyway. There's still mud to clean, 4 days later.

In the meantime, I urge you to read this news article if you want some more information:

http://newsinfo.inquirer.net/breakingnews/regions/view/20090209-188325/Landslide-flood-kill-4-in-Negros-Or

I will write more in the coming week.

The "Easy" Ride

2009-02-03T22:00:00.000-08:00

Waiting outside to go to the city,
No buses will stop; they show me no pity.

Time after time, they drive right on by,
I throw up my hands, yell swears, and ask, “Why?!”

Sadly resigned, I ride jeepney at last,
I am not amused; we're immediately passed.

The driver, it seems, is looking for riders,
He sees possible pesos in all standing road-siders.

In braking he's harsh, in traffic he lurches,
The Catholics cross themselves as we pass churches.

Knees knocking knees, a woman's breastfeeding,
I focus my eyes on the page that I'm reading.

A screaming young baby's disrupting my nap,
A rather large lady sits right on my lap.

I can't move my legs, or not bump my head,
Each minute riding this fills me with dread.

With tapping of coin, I at last disembark,
Time has passed slowly, it's now almost dark.

Fresh air and free legs, a new lease on life,
It’s great to be rid of the "easy ride" strife.

Next time, I resolve, I'll make the bus stop --
If not by my gestures, I guess I'll throw rocks.

-------

*Author's note: the smaller jeepneys in the area are called "easy rides." In other areas, they are known as multi-cabs, which is much less of a misnomer.

Whoah!

2009-01-30T00:38:00.000-08:00

...It's almost the end of January.

Quick update: Malaysia was awesome. I will collect my thoughts on it sometime, but not here. But you can view pictures from the trip here:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2366406&l=20ac2&id=10701003

While I was there, I met some folks who were teaching in Korea, and their various visitors. In the second week of January, 3 of them stopped by my site for a few days, which was really cool. They had a good time.

I've been delightfully busy lately. Creating dive tourism brochures, designing tickets, writing and editing a coastal resource management plan, relaunching recycled goods livelihood products (this one is fraught with the most missteps and setbacks), and setting up the municipal library. We have a small staff now, and we're hoping to open sometime in February.

Socially, I went to the Sinulog festival in Cebu City a couple weeks ago. It was pretty wild, and there were way too many people, but that's all part of the fun. I didn't really take any pictures, so I encourage you to check out www.sinulog.ph for more details. And then this past weekend I was up in Manila yet again for what is essentially a Peace Corps ASB meeting.

HEY, ARE YOU READING THIS? Cool, hi. I bet you have some books. Do you want to donate some of them to our library? Get in touch with me. Thanks!

Mamasko

2008-12-21T22:42:00.000-08:00

Sadly, it seems that Christmas caroling in the US has been relegated to old-folks homes and shopping malls, but it is alive and well here in the Philippines. From November through January, bands of carolers roam the streets every night. (This is called mamasko, which is basically making "Christmas" into a verb.) Most of them are children with sweet voices and simple noisemakers - a stack of flattened metal bottle caps nailed to a piece of wood - who sing medleys. There are more professional bands that go around too, like groups of men with guitars or larger groups of teenagers with drums and other instruments. After playing for a minute or so, they will stop and then begin saying "maayong pasko... maayong pasko... pasko... pasko..." ("Merry Christmas.. Merry Christmas.." then more pathetically, "Christmas.. Christmas...") until you give them money or hide yourself deeply enough in your house that they eventually go away. If I'm at all visible during the performance, I feel compelled to give them money, but if I'm behind closed doors and can hardly hear them anyway, I usually just stay inside. Otherwise it would be like giving out candy at Halloween every night for a month.

I took a video of a group of younger kids singing their medley on my porch. I can be heard yelling "kanta!" (sing!) to a kid who is just mugging for the camera, thinking I'm taking a photograph instead of a video. It fades out, I give them money in the interim, and then they sing the thank you song.

And here's a photo of an older, more intense group:

And a serious guitar band last year during Christmas:

This also seems like a good place to mention my favorite Pinoy Christmas decorations, which are these awesome stars. It depends on the size and material, but here is the making of one with bamboo and plastic. Then lights are put inside. Unfortunately I don't have any pictures yet of this big green one lit up.

But here are some smaller ones, so you get the idea. They look great in trees!

This will do it for this blog for 2008. I'll be back in January with an update on my trip to Malaysia, which I'm leaving for tonight. Happy holidays to everybody!

Mag-ambahan ta!

2008-12-19T00:50:00.000-08:00

Without really realizing what I was doing, I entered a choir contest with my co-workers for the Local Government Unit Christmas party. There were 8 contingents, with each contingent singing a song of their choosing and a Visayan song called Mag-ambahan, which means "coming together to do something". Our group sang The First Noel as our second song. It was way more serious than I expected (quick background for those who don't know me well - I have no musical training at all) and we had harmonies, vocal warmups, and all. I sang bass and didn't embarass myself too terribly.

Here are the lyrics:

Mag-ambahan

Issignit ta ang kalipay'g hudyaka
Kay pasko karon sa pagmaya

Mag-ambahan ta ning pasko sa kalipay
Ang kagul-anan ta ato nga isalikway
Ug duyog ning awit sa malipayong dughan
Issignit ta ang kalipay'g hudyaka
Kay pasko karon sa pagmaya

Wad-on ta ang mga kayugot
Isalikway ta ang pagdumot
Ang pagpasaylo mao'y angay buhaton ta
Ning adlaw sa manunubos

(Repeat Mag-ambahan stanza)

Issignit ta ang kalipay'g hudyaka
Kay pasko karon sa pagmaya

My rough, unofficial translation is below. Of course, it loses all its poetry in translation...

We're shouting in happy merriment
Because it's Christmas, time of joy

We're coming together this Christmas time of happiness
We're putting aside our troubles
And joining together in song of happy chest*
We're shouting in happy merriment
Because it's Christmas, time of joy

We're getting rid of our anger
And setting aside our hatred
Forgiveness is the right thing to do
This day of our Savior

We're shouting in happy merriment
Because it's Christmas, time of joy

*"happy chest" is the literal translation, I think it's more of an expression that you're walking around filled up with joy and happiness.

We didn't win the contest, or get top three. Funnily enough, I nailed the lyrics to the Visayan song, but had a little trouble with the 3rd and 4th verses of The First Noel.

If you'd like to see the performance, I've embedded a video below. Please be aware that the friend I gave my camera to was more drunk than I realized, and it's extremely shaky. Once you glance and get the idea of how we looked, you may just want to switch to another tab and let the sweet sounds of our voices fill your computer speakers. And ignore the talking that sometimes drowns out our voices.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MPao8FBYJiI

A Pinoy Pageant

2008-12-18T21:16:00.000-08:00

[This may be the first in a series of Christmas-related posts]

I hear that the high school is doing its raffle drawing today. (Last weekend some students came by selling tickets at 2 pesos a pop, so I bought ten.) I head over to the school 45 minutes after the official start time and try to enter inconspicuously, but as usual, I am unable to do this and dragged to a chair onstage. The teachers are finishing up the parade of top students this grading period to the stage. Two raffle prizes - a sack of rice, and a lechonon - a live pig that is just ripe to be lechon'ed - are given away. (I win neither.)

The pageant begins. I leave the stage and go stand facing it to get a better view. It is introduced with specific references to the scriptures on which it is based. We are at a public high school, but there is no separation of church and state. The Washington State Capitol Holiday Sign Argument Extravaganza would not occur here. The pageant is mostly traditional, except that the piped-in musical accompaniment is more techno-based than the typical pageant. The three wise men bring their gifts wrapped in festive wrapping paper with Santa designs. Mary and Joseph are addressed as "ma'am-sir" by the innkeeper. And immediately after Herod has given his orders to seek out the babe in swaddling clothes lying in manger, the stage clears and 20 girls in Santa hats, short red skirts, and tall white boots come out and do a dance to an instrumental version of Walking in a Winter Wonderland. (It's at least 80 degrees, but with a strong breeze, admittedly almost-chilly weather here.)

The 2nd-prize pig is roused from its sleep across the field and dragged squealing on stage for a photo-op. It arrives mostly by being dragged on a leash attached to its hoof, but is whisked up the steps with a firm grip with one hand on an ear and another on the tail. I realize that I'm being introduced by the emcee, and jog up to the stage to select the winner of the raffle. I spin the drum with gusto, open the lid, and select a name, hoping that I don't pick my own name. It ends up being a construction worker who's right next door helping to construct a new school building. I am photographed with him, the school principal, and a teacher, handing over the small two-range burner with natural gas tank that is the 1st prize. In her final remarks, the principal urges all male students to make sure they get haircuts over the break. With that, the event is over and the crowd disperses. It has been exactly an hour since I left. I return back to my office.

A Celestial Countenance

2008-12-15T22:22:00.000-08:00

A couple weeks ago (December 1 to be exact), Venus, Jupiter, and the Moon all lined up. Even cooler, they made a smiley face over south and southeast Asia. They were quite low, and by far the brightest things in the sky, even showing up before it was dark. Here's my somewhat-fuzzy shot, taken right in front of my house.

Flood!

2008-12-07T19:39:00.000-08:00

I normally enjoy the feeling of going to sleep as torrential rainfall comes down outside. There's a certain sense of security and warmth about being wrapped up under your sheets and safe from inclement weather. So that's what I did on Saturday night.

I was torn from this pleasant dream at about 1:30 a.m. as I groggily woke up to the screams of my host mother and realized that my floor was already covered in a few inches of water. I hastily stood up on my bed and started hoisting electronics, books, and magazines from my bed to higher ground. The lower half of my mattress was already soaked, compliments of a leaky nipa roof.

Once I'd cleared off the important things from my bed, I sort of froze in shock. The water kept rising. Already given up to the water were all my shoes, half of my clothes, and some random papers and magazines that were on the ground or on low shelves. It was time to get in. Forgetting a lifetime of jokes about high-water pants, I stepped in to the hopefully-not-contaminated water wearing baggy white basketball shorts. I had a short table with a lot of important documents, books, and magazines on it that needed to be cleared off. Once I got to that point, it was sort of a wait-and-see.

I realized belatedly that my bed would float (it's just a thin foam mattress on a wooden frame), so I could have saved some initial time that I spent clearing it off. But I couldn't leave my room as Sining (host mom) was yelling at me to stay in my room because the water was higher outside. I doubted this claim, as there's a 1-inch gap between my door and the floor, but I stayed put. Eventually the waters began to recede, having got as high as my knees. But nothing could be done until the water level dropped to the lowest barrier outside. After that, we'd have to bail out about 8 inches of water, because my room + porch is sort of like a tub. And now it even has a ring to prove it.

When the water finally reached the bailout point, I started on my room and porch area, while Mark went for the kitchen (it's own, separate tub.) Eventually, after much more exercise than I'm used to at 3 in the morning, the water was mostly down. But there was still a ton of silt and mud to be dealt with, as the river had been carrying quite a bit. We worked and cleaned until 6 a.m. until I couldn't stand it anymore, and I went to go sleep in the extra room upstairs.

In the end, the damage wasn't so bad. It could have been much worse. I will be eternally grateful that I put my laptop on my bed that night, instead of in its bag on the floor, as I usually do. All in all, the main fallout was losing a backlog of Economist and GQ magazines, a bunch of paper I probably needed to recycle anyway, 3 books that are totally soaked through, a lot of basketball cards (planned as presents to children here), my Trivial Pursuit '90s edition, and all my shoes are soaked. I hope they'll dry. Basically all of my clothes except the ones I'm wearing (one change of clothes made it through dry) are still wet. My passport and iPod cord also got soaked, but hopefully they'll survive.

And in anticipation, here's a PFAQ (Potential Frequently Asked Questions) Section:

How did your host mom wake up in the first place?
Usually when there's a super high tide, my toilet goes glug-glug-glug as the water table gets inundated. This happens frequently enough that you don't even think about it. For some reason, on this night, she heard it only go glug-glug-glug once and was up in a flash, and looked outside and saw the rising floodwaters. I, for the record, never heard anything.

Why did it flood?
We live about 5 houses away from the river. Apparently the river had been running high all week, and with the super-hard rain coming on Saturday night in addition to a week of heavy rains, it must have caused a storm surge of at least 2 meters. I'm not sure what role the tide had, if any. Another thing to think about is the cause that deforestation had on the ability of the mountains and hills to retain water and sediment, rather than letting it gush through the valley and flood. I can only speculate, and it still may have flooded were the deforestation not so severe, but I'm guessing it had a lot to do with it.

Wow! Do you have any pictures of this?
Uh, in case you didn't notice, I embedded a YouTube video at the start of this post. If it's not showing up for some reason, here's the link: Flash Flood Video
And if you haven't seen what my house looks like during non-flooded times, here's a link for comparision: Cribs Philippines

Why haven't you blogged for 2 months? What have you been up to?
My parents came/I've been busy/I've been unmotivated/it was thanksgiving/It's been a rough month/etc. etc. I'll get around to some updates, I hope!

quick update

2008-10-06T06:26:00.001-07:00

Time is flying by. Assuming I get out of here on time, I only have 10 months left. I've been in the Philippines almost a year and a half already!

Something that I've always known, but really realized lately, is that one of the major struggles of the Peace Corps is time. Specifically, regardless of a culture's concept of time, the Volunteer has a two-year opportunity in which to accomplish their projects, but the community has always been here, will always be here, and doesn't see anything particular special about these two years. It's an ever-ongoing task, after these two years there will be many more, and there are a lot of limitations on what can get done in any certain time frame. But for me, it's all I have. I'm definitely feeling the rush to get things done, especially now knowing how a month can go by so quickly without really getting anything done.

Lately, I've been running around trying to keep tabs on my various projects, especially the high school mural project and the recycled products project. The strictly CRM stuff seems to be sort of on hold right now. Looking forward a few months, it is hard to imagine that a lot will be accomplished in the rest of 2008, between vacations, helping with training, fiestas, and holidays. But that's the way it goes. Every occasion from here on out is my last go-round at it, so I have to take advantage of as much as I can.

I spent most of last week in Bacolod helping out with the Supervisors Conference for a lot of the new batch of trainees. I was a late draftee to help at the conference and mostly just hung out and tried to get to know people, pitching in at sessions where I could (there were no CRM trainees there, so a lot of my knowledge wasn't super-relevant.) I've met 2/3 of them now and it's been fun to get to know, and give advice to, the newbies. In the first week of November, I'll be going back there to be a resource volunteer again, this time for the whole batch, and I'll see their swearing in.

The big news is that in about 12 hours I'm flying up to Manila, where I'll meet my parents, who are coming for a 2-week visit! We'll spend some time in Manila, relax in Bohol, and then I'll show them around Negros. It's been a long-anticipated visit, so it will be great for all parties involved.

Oh, also I came across this new blog by a guy named Craig and some of his friends. It's called Hella Politics, and it's about politics. Check it out if you're into that sort of thing.

Peace!
-cpb

PS- Thanks to the anonymous benefactor in Jacksonville, FL, who sent me some magazines! That was cool.
PPS - Please nobody send me any Huskies football videos.

Stache Bash 2008

2008-09-23T19:17:00.000-07:00

Peace Corps Philippines has a traditional mustache contest at mid-service training, which was a couple weeks ago in Manila. For over two months, I grew a beard out in preparation for the event. A full beard is a rare thing in the Philippines, so I drew some funny looks and stares (well, I always do, but this time I imagined that the beard had something to do with it), as well as frequent comparisons to Jesus and Santa Claus. In a clean-cut country where I already buck convention by having frequently shaggy hair, I managed to get away with it when I explained that I was preparing for a lantugi sa bungot (mustache/facial hair contest). That always managed to draw a laugh, and I continued on. Near the end, one of my friends took me aside and somberly informed me that I really needed to get a haircut and shave because I looked "like a Bigfoot." I assured him that it would be soon.

The day of the contest finally rolled around on the first night of our mid-service training. I trimmed my beard down to a handlebar stache and some furious sideburns, donned a basketball jersey, borrowed some short-shorts, and played it as an enthusiastic '70s basketball player.. and I won!

For more of the story, I invite you to check the photo album I have compiled on facebook:
THE MUSTACHE CHRONICLES - http://www.new.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2322691&l=1efb8&id=10701003

Also, another volunteer has compiled more photos, and lots of video, here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/dcw7649/sets/72157607221317552

Sing us a song, you're the piano man

2008-09-19T06:28:00.000-07:00

In a world of security guards, elevators, and No Soliciting signs, the typical American workplace is devoid of the wonderful world of traveling salesmen. Not so in the Philippines. On an almost daily basis, somebody wanders into our office selling towels, socks, foodstuffs, or something of the sort. But today was the best traveling salesman ever: he had keyboards! One out for demonstration, another good to go, still in the box. When his initial pitch wasn’t successful, he busted out some of the synthesizer buttons to show how you could make your own band. I covertly snapped a couple pictures. When he left, I couldn’t stop laughing. My coworkers asked me why I was laughing, and all I could think to say was “that’s something you’d never see in America.” I bet that someday I’ll be at work and suddenly want to buy a synthesizer keyboard on impulse. But that guy (and his 2 or 3 buddies, who were covering the town with him) will be nowhere to be found.

From L-R: Bemused, Piano Slangin', Skeptical

Walay Plastik Amlan

2008-09-19T06:12:00.000-07:00

Americans could learn a lot about reducing waste from Filipinos. A lot of the stuff that ends up in landfills in the US is reused or recycled in numerous creative ways here. However, one glaring problem in the Philippines is plastic. While many countries and cities across the world are moving to ban plastic, or at least charge extra for plastic bags, I’ve had a large number of awkward interactions with cashiers here who are trying to put my purchases in plastic, no matter how unnecessary. Our mayor and I talked about ways of reducing plastic use in our town. The last thing I want is another well-written and well-intentioned law that doesn’t get enforced, though. Instead, this great program called Walay Plastik Amlan has been started (meaning “no plastic Amlan”).

It works like this. Many people in our town buy rice subsidized by the National Food Authority (NFA) for P18.25/kilo (as opposed to up to P40/kilo for commercial rice). The rice comes in these giant 50-kilo bags, but families must queue up for the rice, and can only buy 5 kilos every week at the subsidized rate. When the rice sacks are empty, the municipality gives them to a few different groups in town, including the group of fisher folk women that I have been working with on my recycled products. From each sack, two smaller bags with handles, capable of carrying 5 kilos, can be sewn. The municipality pays the women 5 pesos for each bag that’s made. Then municipal employees screenprint the bags with the Walay Plastik Amlan logo.

Now, when people go to buy the NFA rice, it comes in these hand-sewn, reusable bags instead of in plastic bags. Those buying the rice pay 5 pesos for the sack, which they can then bring back every week to purchase rice. Thus, the municipality can recoup the money invested in getting the bags made, and only has to pay for the labor and materials involved in screenprinting, and whatever time the employees spend organizing the program. Rice sacks are reused, many thousands of plastic bags are saved, and many families have a supplemental means of income. We’re hoping to expand it beyond the purchase of rice to fish and vegetables at the market, and eventually everywhere, so that people in the town use as little plastic as possible.

Do you want a bag? Let me know and I’ll try to get you one. Especially if you live in the Philippines!

Daghang Dap-ag (Lots of Crown-of-Thorns Starfish)

2008-09-19T05:33:00.000-07:00

Crown-of-Thorns Starfish are a cool looking, but very destructive part of the coral reef ecosystem. In the past few decades, their population has exploded. Reasons are not fully known, but it’s likely that human activity has been a large factor. This is a problem because the starfish eat corals and can destroy entire reefs if they go unchecked – the coral reef being the basis for the entire local marine ecosystem. A couple months ago the population started increasing in our Tandayag Marine Sanctuary, so we recently had a underwater cleanup and dap-ag removal with the Bantay Dagat. We armed ourselves with snorkels and sharpened bamboo sticks and went hunting. You have to be really careful because the dap-ag are poisonous, so you must avoid getting stung. In places with lots of extra money to kick around, like Australia, divers are hired to inject poison into the starfish, which is probably the most effective means of getting rid of them. However, if you’re not poisoning them, you have to remove them entirely from the water, which is what we did. After an hour of so scouring the reef for every last one (we undoubtedly missed some, they like to hide in the nooks and crannies of corals), we had a couple hundred in the boat. To prevent them from going back to the water, we buried them in a mass grave on the beach. And our reef is safe from this particular threat for the time being.

Adam loading up the basin with starfish from the boat (click images to see larger sizes)

Mga dap-ag

The Bantay Dagat crew and the beach burial

2nd Round Knockout

2008-09-19T03:40:00.000-07:00

My friend Britt and I headed over to Cebu City to meet up with Jon and attend a boxing match. Boxing is a national sport here. While it’s not the highest in participation (that goes to basketball), it’s the most popular spectator sport, especially when Manny Pacquiao is fighting. Pac-Man wasn’t involved in this fight – he only fights in Las Vegas now (Oscar De La Hoya is next!) – but one of the more popular Pinoy boxers, Rey “Boom Boom” Bautista, was set to defend his WBO crown. I’d never been to a match before and didn’t know if I’d ever have the chance to go to another high profile event again.

The event took place at the super-swanky Waterfront Hotel and Casino, which is actually at least 5 km from the water. We got there about halfway through the undercard bouts and bought tickets in the medium range, for about $12. The ring was set up in a huge ballroom with a balcony, and our seats were on the floor decently close to the canvas. We spent the first couple fights wondering what made the “piff” noise when punches were thrown and enjoying the action. It was all Pinoy-vs-Pinoy until the three biggest fights. First a non-title bout was fought between a Filipino and a Thai, who looked like he was trying to be Tony Jaa. But Ong-Bak doesn’t work when you’re boxing, and he left himself open to numerous head jabs. The Filipino won.

Next, there was a title match between 105-pounders. The Pinoy title holder, Donnie Nietes, took on an overmatched Nicaraguan and knocked him out in the second round. Finally, Boom Boom was up. His opponent was a Mexican, Eden Marquez, who had been talking a good deal of trash before the fight, even “declaring war” on the Philippines. Boom Boom hasn’t been without his struggles – a promising fighter with strong knockout power, he’s compiled a very good record, but had an embarrassing first round knockout against a different Mexican less than a year ago, and has had to redouble his efforts. The first round, he just danced around the ring and only threw a few punches, letting Marquez tire himself out. Then, in the second round, he pounced and knocked him out in less than a minute. A long trip from Mexico for less than 4 minutes of action!

Boom.

We hollered and jumped and celebrated with the rest of the crowd, proud that Boom Boom had easily disposed of his opponent and represented the Visayas well in retaining his WBO 122-lb crown. The best part was probably the post-fight interview, where a Filipina reporter from Manila was asking questions in Tagalog. Boom Boom understood her questions, but requested to just respond in Cebuano. The crowd loved it! I’ve possibly never felt so culturally integrated and proud to be an adopted Visayan, laughing along with the crowd as we all understood Boom Boom’s responses while the flustered Tagalog-speaking reporter tried her best to figure out what he was saying.

Three happy Visayans.. guess who didn't enter the mustache contest? (Me, Jon, Britt)

International Coastal Cleanup - Sept. 20

2008-09-16T18:20:00.000-07:00

A friendly reminder to all, no matter where you're reading from, that the International Coastal Cleanup will be taking place on (and around) Sept. 20. Especially for all my Washingtonian and Californian readers, I'm sure there are some events going on. Not to mention the Philippines, which will also have a ton.

For more information, please check out The Ocean Conservancy's Website -- you can sign up to join a cleanup, or learn how to host one of your own.

Next High-Profile Visitor: Peace Corps Director Ron Tschetter

2008-09-02T00:39:00.000-07:00

The high-profile visitors just keep on coming! Last week, the director of the entire Peace Corps, Ron Tschetter, came and visited my site, along with his wife Nancy (they served together in India in the '60s), an assistant, our new Philippines country director, and a few other staff. We followed a similar schedule as the Ambassador’s visit, but in reverse, and more low-key. The party arrived at 5 pm and went directly to the marine sanctuary, where the Mayor and I explained about our CRM program and showed some underwater footage. Then we headed to the municipal hall for some snacks and a further explanation of some of the projects I’m working on. There were some new products to show off from the recycled goods livelihood project, and they went over well. I’d pre-purchased a couple of them to give away as gifts, but they were so enthused that they bought all the rest of them and refused any change in return, donating it to the group.

This provided for a good cultural teaching moment once everybody had left. Some of the municipal staff was a bit aghast that I’d actually accepted their money for the products. (I’m acting as the treasurer for the group right now.) They wouldn’t dream of accepting payment for something like that from visitors. But I explained that, as Americans, I understood that they would want to pay, and would in fact feel better if they had paid, rather than accepted all of them as donations. In this way, we feel like we are helping out and supporting a worthwhile project.

The next day, I went down to Dumaguete and met with the other volunteers from Negros and Siquijor for a lunch with Mr. Tschetter and the whole gang. We feasted on a mixture of Filipino and Western dishes at a nice restaurant and everybody got to hear from him and share some stories. It was a pretty cool deal. Certainly a percentage of PCV’s get to meet the Director while they are serving, but it’s definitely not the majority, and even fewer are lucky enough to have a personal site visit.

My camera was the back-up during the proceedings, so I don’t have the best pictures right now. Hopefully I’ll be getting copies of other pictures soon.

Introduction at the marine sanctuary (L-R: Nancy Tschetter, Ron Tschetter, PC/Phils Country Director Sonia Derenoncourt, PC Staff Kavita Pulapilly, Me, Mayor Bentham De la Cruz)

Breaking down the finer points of marine sanctuaries while showing some underwater footage

A pose with the Bantay Dagat (Coast Guard) members (L-R: Ron Tschetter, Sonia Derenoncourt, me, Joel, Adam, Anton, [forget name!], Rogelio, [forget name!], Oliver, and Mayor)

The worst package ever

2008-08-27T01:45:00.000-07:00

The other day I went to the office and was excited to see a package on my desk. I tore it open and was perplexed at what I found. No, not a cup of coffee (look closer). A MIF Procedure Kit, for the collection, staining, and preservation of fecal specimens. No explanation as to why this was being sent accompanied the kit. I'm guessing it has something to do with my upcoming mid-service training, but I am steering clear of this particular present until given a specific directive. Wouldn't you?

This seems like a good place to mention my address again, in case you wanted to send me a MIF kit, or maybe something better... like DVDs of the upcoming Husky Football season (I'm really serious, this would make me so incredibly happy), or magazines, as Peace Corps is canceling our Newsweek subscription in a cost-saving move.

Letters, small packages --
Craig Bosman, PCV
c/o the Peace Corps Office
6/F PNB Financial Center
Macapagal Avenue
Pasay City 1308
Philippines

Larger packages --
Craig Bosman
US Peace Corps Volunteer
LGU-Amlan, MENRO
Municipal Hall
Amlan, Negros Oriental 6203
Philippines

EDIT: Please do not send me DVDs of awful games. I don't really want to watch the Oregon or Oklahoma debacles. As Sarah Palin said, "Thanks but no thanks". Except I'm not lying when I say it.

Beijing Olympics... from the same time zone!

2008-08-27T01:31:00.000-07:00

Like many major sporting events, I got waaay into the Olympics. And even though Peace Corps Volunteers are supposed to be leading some sort of deprived life, I probably had a much better viewing experience than you. Indeed, I will probably lucky to ever have this outstanding of a (television only) viewing experience again. I’ll leave the analysis of China’s human rights record, the political controversies of the games, etc. to other people, and talk about what the Olympics were like from my vantage point.

I don’t watch a lot of TV here. The steady stream of action movies served up by cable channels and mindless game shows on basic cable are usually a bit much for me, so I typically exclude myself. But in the run-up to the games, I subtly informed my host family how incredibly excited I was to watch the Olympics every night. Luckily, they were also quite into it, which was no doubt helped by the USA Basketball team’s great popularity here.

Instead of struggling with NBC’s hype, commercials, and delays, I was blessed by the South African sports television network, SuperSport. They provided 3 channels worth of live, virtually commercial-free coverage of almost every sport imaginable. In addition to this, there was a Filipino-owned network, Solar, that had one channel devoted to the games full time and four other channels (including Basketball TV) that showed the games at least part time. Solar was pretty obnoxious with its commercials, and had less live action, but it was probably on par with NBC. Both SuperSport and Solar appeared to be using pool commentators from the IOC, who seemed to be from the US, UK, and Canada. My favorite was perhaps a very serious and proper British woman who was helping on the gymnastics broadcasts, whose idea of praise was something like “Well, that routine wasn’t too terribly awful, was it.”

Having the same time zone as all of China (kind of a remarkable idea, given how large that country is), the Philippines was also a good place to be. I could catch most of the action live as it happened in the evening, and for the big morning events like swim races and gymnastics, I was able to either run home real quick to catch a race, go across the street to the Mayor’s office (which was how I saw most of Phelps’s gold medal races), or extend my lunch period at home a little longer. I got to see almost all of the sports, too. It was great figuring out team handball, field hockey, and competitive ping-pong as I watched the action unfold. Some sport coverage was lacking. I was frustrated by the lack of soccer coverage, surprisingly, and also of baseball, less surprisingly, but still managed to see some of each. I could have done with less equestrian coverage. (Once, when searching in vain for the US Women’s Soccer semifinal match, and frustrated with prancing horses taking its broadcast time, I said “Who cares about horses!?” to my host family, and my host mom replied immediately, and incredulously, “People who loves horses!” Touche.)

The Beijing Olympics were, for me, a perfect coincidence of a matching time zone, a cable network that respected the intelligence of its viewers, and a lifestyle and working environment that afforded me relaxed evenings and a flexible workday. The only thing that will top it is actually being there in Vancouver 2010. I can’t wait! And congrats to Team USA for a job well done.

A Lack of Posting

2008-08-27T01:27:00.000-07:00

I think the handbook for families of Volunteers warns of less frequent letters home as time goes on and the Volunteer gains new perspectives, gets more used to life in their adopted country, and is further removed from everyday American life. In some sense, this is probably what’s happened with this blog as of late. But also, I’ve also built up in my mind the need to make every entry sort of epic, either a fantastic story or an in-depth news report, and few things lately have fit that bill in my mind. If I think about it, a lot has actually gone on since I last posted. Furthering ties with the local soccer team, including participating in our first tournament, a refurbished tennis court, a plan to make a huge mural in my town, developing some architecture plans for a new library, entering in a mountain bike race, visiting friends in Cebu, not shaving for six weeks and counting in preparation for a mustache contest, helping with a scientific research project in Siquijor, being a complete and total Olympics junkie, and slow but steady progress on most of my projects. Honestly I doubt I’ll ever fully post regarding all these things, but some of them will probably be incorporated into future posts. I tend to do this thing in spurts, and recently most of my writing energy has been focused on creating satirical Onion-style stories for a Volunteer newsletter that would probably take too much energy to explain. So for you loyal blog readers, if you haven’t given up by now, I’ll do my best to update more frequently and less epically. In fact, here come a couple right now.

The US Ambassador visits!

2008-07-15T19:10:00.000-07:00

A few months ago, my regional manager contacted me and said that United States Ambassador to the Philippines Kristie Kenney was planning a visit to my site, as she enjoys meeting with Peace Corps Volunteers. There would be exactly half an hour for a visit, and then she would host other PCV's in the area for lunch. What would we do?

I was sort of in disbelief that the Ambassador would come to my site, but this was huge! The US Ambassador has an extremely big profile in the Philippines. Statements she makes and events she attends are sometimes front-page national news. There is a lot of history between our two nations, and because of (or in spite of, depending on your opinions) this history, the Philippines seems to be one of the few countries in the world with a generally positive view of the United States. Plus, Ambassador Kenney is extremely popular for her warm personality and willingness to indulge in stunts like this, dancing the Papaya on national television.

We began a detailed, intense planning process, coordinating between myself, the municipal government, the Peace Corps, the Embassy, and the various other places she would be visiting that day, which included our rural health unit - also a beneficiary of USAID funding. After weeks of nailing down every last detail (including what the Ambassador would have for lunch - a ham and cheese omelet and Coke Light, if you're keeping tabs), I returned from my vacation 2 days before she was due to arrive in town and reported to work the next morning to finalize plans. The mayor sadly informed me that she most likely wasn't coming, after all. This set off a crazy day of back-and-forth between me, the Peace Corps, and the Embassy, trying to figure out what on Earth was going on. The locals were sure she wasn't coming and had even canceled lunch. We were in a position of waiting for what we assumed was a final cancellation. Then, at 3:45, I received a call that the Ambassador was for sure coming, and all the original schedule would be kept. So we scrambled to put everything together again.

The rest of the story will be told through photo captions:

After making final preparations, the local officials and I anxiously awaited for Ambassador Kenney's arrival at the front of the Municipal Hall.

Although scheduled to go right up to the municipal hall in her van, the Ambassador disembarked early to shake the hands of the many schoolchildren who were lining the road, waving handmade Philippine and American flags, as drums played and a festive mood filled the air.

As Ambassador Kenney and her support staff from the State department approached, I provided the official welcome, and proceeded to introduce her to my co-workers and the local administration.

We went through a receiving line upstairs to the city council meeting chambers. I was quite worried about the schedule, since every event had been assigned a very specific time in minutes, but the Ambassador put me at ease, and was extremely friendly with everybody, taking time to shake lots of hands and take lots of photos.

The Mayor and I presented a brief overview of our CRM program, and a summary of the major initiatives that Peace Corps and the local government are working on here.

After some photos, we proceeded to our Tandayag Marine Sanctuary to show off one of the crown jewels of our town and meet with local fishermen. A TV had been hooked up to my laptop and was showing off some underwater footage, since we didn't have time to go snorkeling. We discussed the history of the sanctuary and our hopes for developing more eco-tourism here, as well as improving fish catch for the marginal fishermen.

Ambassador Kenney gave a brief message to those assembled - members of our Bantay Dagat, Municpal Fisheries and Aquatic Resource Management Council, and the Tandayag Marine Sanctuary Managment Association, and handed out some pins featuring the American and Philippine flags together, and we headed to lunch.

PCVs from Negros Oriental and Siquijor joined for a delicious lunch at a local resort that I could hardly eat because I was still so wound-up from the day's events, and hadn't really taken a breath for multiple hours.

One last picture, with the local PCVs, Ambassador Kenney, Mayor Bentham De La Cruz, one of our SB members, and my work counterpart and supervisor.

All in all, it was a pretty amazing day. The preparations went off pretty flawlessly, and my co-workers and the local government went above and beyond in preparations for the event. I was very proud to have a part in hosting the Ambassador, which is believed to be the first time that a US Ambassador has come to my town. I hope that having such a high-profile visitor to our project will help convince the locals of its importance, and enable us to continue improving our programs. And, above all, a goodwill, face-to-face visit such as this goes a long way toward preserving the main goal of my organization, stated in the very first word: peace.

Ocho Cero Uno Sa Inyong Radyo...

2008-07-06T23:43:00.000-07:00

Hola, amigos, I know it's been a while since I rapped at ya. A lot's been going on, from projects at site, to a vacation to Palawan, to a visit by the US Ambassador. I plan on making posts on all of these things soon enough. In summary though, I'm back at site and things are going well. I got some new soccer cleats, a ridiculous number of cats have been dying at my house, I finally got to read the 7th and final Harry Potter book, I'm chomping on a lot of sunflower seeds, and I just started the 5th and final season of The Wire.

In this post I mostly want to talk about a recent radio show appearance I made, because it was kind of cool. Our mayor purchased some airtime on a local station for us to talk about environmental issues, and the first week was for Coastal Resource Management. So, I went along with my co-workers to 801 Radyo Bandillo in Sibulan for the program. My assignment was to talk about marine sanctuaries. The station is popular among fisherfolk, so I decided to speak in Cebuano. I wasn't sure what I was going to say until a couple hours before we decided to leave and I lifted a few Cebuano phrases from a poster we have in the office, then madly practiced my pronunciation.

Listening to the Mayor introduce the CRM program while nervously awaiting my turn

I guess the host had been falsely buttered up as to my level of Cebuano skill, and my well-written (not by me) prepared remarks didn't help shatter any myths. So when I sat down and started getting asked all sorts of questions, I did my best to respond, but then let her know I'd really be more comfortable reading my prepared text. Later, after I was done and Job had been speaking about fishery laws, the host called me to the mic and asked me some rapid-fire question regarding mesh size for a certain kind of fish net. I ran away and made Job answer the question. Laughing about it after the show, the Mayor suggested that next time, I should say "that question is so easy that even Job can answer it, so I'll defer to him". Not a bad idea!

Here's a picture of me breaking it down on-air, and then a transcript of what I said (the English translation - I guess you can contact me if you'd like the Bisaya).

A well-managed marine protected area (MPA) promotes habitat recovery and restores fish productivity.

1. MPAs are designated areas where fishing or other forms of human access and activities are restricted to protect the area’s ecosystem. MPA is the general term for marine sanctuary, marine reserve, or marine park.

2. MPAs promote the recovery of degraded habitats critical to enhancing and sustaining our fishery resources.

3. MPAs have a no-take zone or “sanctuary” where the harvesting of fish or any marine life is not allowed. This enables fish stocks and all marine organisms to mature and thus reproduce at a higher rate. As fish and other marine life grow bigger, their ability to reproduce increases.

4. Bigger fish produce many more eggs than smaller ones. No-take sanctuaries have been proven to host more and bigger breeding individuals, increase the supply of young fish and lead to a build-up in fish populations.

5. Once fish populations inside the MPA increase, some fish will spill out of the MPA and boost catches of fishers. Currents will also disperse eggs and larvae (newly hatched fish) to populate other habitats.

6. The enhancement of fisheries is only one of the many benefits of MPAs. MPAs also contribute to the stability of the marine ecosystem, biodiversity conservation, research, public education, tourism and recreation – benefits which often exceed the economic benefits derived from fisheries alone.

The Non-Electric Water Transportation Test

2008-05-30T23:54:00.000-07:00

[Note: I just finished reading Tom Wolfe's The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, so apologies if my writing is a little more free-form than usual. Just read it. READ IT!]

The other night, I returned to my island, after an eventful day that included:

A fastcraft ride with a lady clearly taking pictures of me with her cell phone;

Waiting for a bus on a pier so thoroughly inundated with the smell of urine that it made me seriously question my previously unwavering support for the Filipino male tendency to urinate in the great outdoors, then wandering over to take a picture of a decrepit and rusty version of the boat I just rode, wasting away on the beach, and noticing a kid just openly defecating on the beach – the first time I have seen that here;

Taking a bus ride that provided some thrilling views and awe/fear inspiring turns, a regular Disney ride (knowing in the back of your mind that sometimes they have serious injuries occur on Disney rides) with the unfortunate addition of a screeching horn that makes the bus sound like a diseased weasel hurtling through lesser, slower forms of life;

Losing my cell phone on a bumpy trike ride, ordering (and paying double my already-inflated fare) for a fruitless search of my phone;

Wandering up and down a somewhat grimy dive colony, looking for “4-American-Friends-3-White-and-1-Chinese” while realizing that this was probably what detectives had to do when they didn’t have the benefit of contacting their snoop subject via cell phone – I managed to be shown the rooms they had stayed in the previous night, was offered the room key to their place for this night, and found where they had gone diving before, but no THEM, until at last! There they were.

And more happenings, like calling my phone to find that it had already been found, stolen, and de-SIM-carded, meaning I had no viable way of tracking down an honest person who found it, because an honest person didn’t find it;

Grabbing a sandwich to go and going on the fastest boat period that I’ve been on in this
country;

Snorkeling a little bit because I’m still afraid my throat will seize up if I cough too hard while I’m diving;

Having some dinner while playing Settlers of Catan and watching a beautiful sunset; catching a ride with locals back to the highway and getting to pay the true fare (5 times cheaper than the tourist fare!);

Waiting for an hour for a bus to come while impressing some locals with my language skills/going through the motions of the same inane conversation about “chicks” that we’ve all had a million times, finally catching the bus, the last boat, and arriving back on my island.

While I was on the bus, I thought about how dependent we are on cell phones for meeting people. Back in the day, you would name a time and a place, and that was that. [Or you wouldn’t even do that. I once read about a study where New Yorkers were asked to name where they would meet somebody in the city, if they had no agreed time or place, they just had to meet. An overwhelming amount independently chose the clock at Grand Central Station, 12:00 noon. I wonder where it would be for Seattle – I’d probably choose the middle of Westlake Plaza. UW, HUB front stairs. But where do you choose for a dive colony in the Philippines you’ve never been to before, and the time is now?] Cell phones make it more complicated and easier at the same time. But what happens when the paradigm shifts mid-plan? You lose your phone before setting an on-the-go time and place, and you end up wandering around up and down a hideously developed dive colony, telling the sunglasses/rolex/Viagra man three times that you don’t want any of his products, while thinking about what could have been in this day, in this place. You could have put the bloody phone in the pocket with the zipper, or your bag, or any number of other rough-road-immune places, there’s so many ways I could have not lost my phone. They could have kept the shoreline free and open, put the resorts off the beach, never made any seawalls, and created/preserved a place 30 times more beautiful, there’s so many people who could have not screwed this up. Sayang.

Like I said, I returned to my island, getting off the slow boat at the southernmost end of my town, which is about an hour’s walk from where I live, as I now know. It was late, beyond typical public-transport time, but there was one tricycle driver waiting at the dock. I told him I wanted to go to Poblacion. He appeared to ingest this information, but it had no effect, and he wandered off. I waited a few minutes, and then I asked him if he wasn’t leaving, after all. He mumbled some stuff and then asked how much I was going to pay. I said, well, the regular fare is 6 pesos, so what do you want? He sort of said nothing, just smiled weirdly. I asked him a couple more times, and he said nothing. I told him he needed to talk, or I was just going to walk home. It was strange, the way he refused to begin a negotiation. Then he finally says 60 pesos. 60! Sometimes I give in a little bit to the inevitable rip-offs that follow my white skin because I just don’t care enough to haggle on everything. But no way is this happening in my own town. He wants more because he might not pick up a passenger on the way back – totally reasonable, so I offer him 12. No. “Gasolina is expensive.” … Yes, it is, but it’s no more expensive at night than during the day time, when you drive up and down giving rides all day for 6 pesos. I offer 15. 20. 20 each, me and the kid by me who wants to go the exact same way as me, but even further! He’s already offered 20. That’s 40 out of his ludicrous negotiation-starting high point of 60. He’s nonplussed. I’m frustrated. The driver points out what appears to be an easy-ride going by, and the kid and I run for it, but it’s not-for-hire, plus it’s stopping where we’re standing and staying there for the night. Tired and perplexed, I don’t even go back to the trike and begin to walk home instead. It occurs to me that he just really didn’t want to drive us, even at a premium price. He decided that he would only take us if he really got away with murder. He certainly doesn’t lose money during the day - otherwise there would be no trikes on the road – and he stood to make even more here. I walked home sort of to spite him – if you’re going to hold out for everything, you’re going to get nothing, my thinking often goes – yet it seems that this is basically what he wanted. On I walked, thinking about this driver #118 and wondering if I should have negotiated differently, or longer, while counting the vehicles that passed. Not a single public utility vehicle, so I don’t know if the kid I was waiting with ever passed me or not. And then, at the EXACT moment that I reached my house, Trike #117 goes by, fully loaded with people! Now I’m unsure if it was 118 or 117 that I was originally talking to, as the paint jobs appeared similar. Either way, he got his money, or he got his secret wish to stay, and I arrived home at my apparently pre-destined arrival time.

A project beginning

2008-05-26T02:40:00.000-07:00

One of my new projects is to try and create a supplemental livelihood for fisherfolk families, the idea being to increase their income first, and to also try and reduce pressure on the fishery by having less people dependent on it as a livelihood (which can lead to overfishing - although, really, commercial fishers are the major problem in that regard). Having been inspired at a training I went to, my counterpart and I developed a plan to introduce this supplemental livelihood project based on creating goods out of recycled materials - out of used juice patches, for one, but also out of ironed plastic bags, a new idea which is starting to catch on, but hasn't really been done yet in my area. [Curious about ironing? Check out this website.] After a few introductory meetings with local officials to build support, I met with some fisherfolk one afternoon that had conveniently already been organized by a provincial employee, and showed them some sample products and a video on the technique. When I came back the next week to give more information and do an actual demonstration, I was floored to see that one of the girls had already taken the idea and ran with it, far surpassing anything I hoped to demonstrate, producing the most creative bags and prints I had ever seen with this technique. I borrowed them for a week to show off. These are all created from plastic bags ironed together:

Orcas frolicking under the sun

An orca in a colorful sea

A small handbag

An orca handbag

... A week went by and we returned for a third meeting, and I was again floored by what had been produced, this time in only 4 days:

These bags are basically market-ready, in my opinion, and the enthusiasm that's been shown so far makes me feel like even if a large amount of people don't take to the project, at least a small group of people can really make something of it. We're meeting on Friday to talk business plans and group names, and then the plan is to develop some more sample, initial products for sale. I'm going to help market the goods locally, regionally, and possibly even internationally, if some of my North American readers dig it. Bags will probably be the starting point, but I'm hoping that a wide range of things can be made - sails, kites, umbrellas, rain jackets, whatever would benefit from a free, durable Tyvex-like material.

Here's a picture of the community organizer, Daisy, on the left, who's my main counterpart for this project, and some of the most enthusiastic members so far. I'll keep you posted on how it goes!

One Year in the Philippines!

2008-05-16T02:29:00.000-07:00

Yes, It's official, I've now been in the Philippines for one year. And oh, what a difference one makes, if you will compare my just-arrived-after-a-long journey, freshly buzz cut, heaviest weight of my life ID photo with the one I took last night.

But sadly, I am apparently moving farther away from the culturally "proper" hairstyle.

And I've eschewed pants and shoes at the office for shorts and flip-flops every day. At least my hair's not blue, and I don't have a shifty look on my face, right?

I also just sent out a mass email, and posted it as a note on facebook. If you're not my facebook friend, or not on the list, and you want to read this year update, give me your email address.

Baba sa Suba – Part 2

2008-04-29T18:30:00.001-07:00

It’s cool to see how sometimes an outsider (me) can just bring up an idea and see results without having to do much, showing the latent demand for doing projects here. In this case, the idea for planting mangroves was still popular, even though the original plan didn’t work. (It should be noted that many ideas aren’t received this well, and are often quickly met with a reason that something can’t be done.) And while I was gone in Manila for a training, the Sangguniang Kabataan (every barangay has like a neighborhood council for youths, the SK) and a couple other community groups conducted a small mangrove planting at the mouth of the river. When I returned to check it out, I could see only a few propagules still surviving – an unexpected typhoon rolled through the Visayas, and the planters didn’t have the proper tools to plant them deep enough in the first place. But it was a start.

On Earth Day, another coastal cleanup was conducted. It was incredible and disheartening to see how much garbage had accumulated in the area since the cleanup about a month prior by the high school students. Some of it came from the ocean or river during high tide, and some of it was obvious dumping activity. Coastal cleanups often feel like a ridiculous Sisyphean task to me, without anything else to go along with it that will actually change the behavior that leads to so much litter. Anyway, the beach was left somewhat clean (at least below the high tide line) and ready for the next round of planting.

As an Earth Day activity, but occurring on April 26, our local Petron company had a CSR-type event working with my office and the Bantay Dagat to plant mangroves at the river. This time, the seedlings were bigger, the tools were better, and the people were out in full force. We even had a banner and t-shirts! I was amazed at the efficiency of the planting. About 200 propagules and seedlings were probably planted in an hour. I returned to the site a couple days later and found about 75% still alive. Some had broken off directly at the sand line. I suspected wave action, by my co-workers were more worried about naughty children. I guess we’ll see how it goes – mangroves are up against enough without having to deal with little miscreants. Regardless, the area will require a lot of care, replanting, and observation until it becomes more established.

Enjoy some pictures from the event:

The mangroves arrive via Bantay Dagat patrol boat

Mangrove propagules ready for planting

No event is complete without a hand-painted banner..

The planting begins:

FOR MORE INFORMATION ABOUT MANGROVES:
An excellent primer by the Shedd Aquarium
The Mangrove Action Project
Wikipedia Article

Baba sa Suba (Mouth of the River) – Part 1

2008-04-29T17:56:00.000-07:00

This is the first of two posts that will take you through a project I had that turned into two. It started when I heard about a program that takes place on neighboring Siquijor, where a few years ago a PCV initiated a program called “Plant to Graduate” where graduating elementary and high school students are required to plant a couple mangrove seedlings as part of their graduation activities. We have an area near the mouth of a river, also nearby the local high school, that I was eyeing as a mangrove rehabilitation zone.

I worked with a teacher at the HS to flesh out the idea for the plan. Not only were we going to plant mangroves, we were also going to plant in two different areas upstream for upland reforestation. Then the transportation to upland areas became a problem. Instead, we decided to involve other upland high schools – but never heard any response from them. Maybe next time. We got approval from the Mayor, and from the Principal, and set our date. Then changed it a couple times because Amihan (the southeast monsoon, which creates high winds and large waves damaging to young seedlings or propagules) kept going later and later. I remained optimistic as people around me expressed doubt about the planting. We set the date and began the planning. Finally, one day while measuring the planting area, my counterparts told me we couldn’t go forward with it due to the Amihan. I felt very defeated and kicked a coconut in anger, breaking my flip-flop in the process. I sat down for a while to think and then eventually just walked home like an idiot with my broken sandal, not even wanting to return to the office. Eventually I decided we’d just have to do an event timed with the beginning of the school year in June.

My teacher counterpart was more positive and suggested doing a coastal cleanup instead as a graduation requirement. So on the appointed day, I went in and gave a (hopefully) inspiring presentation to the graduating students on the problem with waste and its effects on the environment. But I made sure to emphasize that coastal cleanups are not a final solution. In fact, I have pretty mixed feelings about coastal cleanups, which I can get into at some other time. After my talk, all the students lined up into their ROTC brigades and marched on to their designated areas.

The cleanup went alright. It’s rare to see an area completely cleaned during a cleanup. Possible reasons: a lack of motivation, getting tired, feeling overwhelmed by the sheer amount of trash, a misunderstanding of what is actually trash, and a sad complacency with garbage piled everywhere. It can be disheartening to be the last person in a long line of participants in a cleanup and realize you’re picking up more trash than anybody ahead of you.

Here’s some pictures from the event:

Holy Rollers

2008-03-24T00:46:00.000-07:00

Maundy Thursday and Good Friday of Holy Week are national holidays in the Philippines, which makes them a perfect time to go on a long bike ride, aptly named the Holy Ride. I went along with the Negros Oriental Bikers Association on a one-day, 120km (73 mile) ride. Most of the small towns in the area have a local mountain biking club, with the center of the scene being in Dumaguete. About 30 people went along with this particular ride. The participants tend to come from the middle/upper crust of local society – college students, bike shop owners, high school and university teachers, and real estate agents. But not all do, and I wasn’t the only one without a top-level bike, spandex, and fancy shoes that clip on to my pedals. The one thing that all the participants had in common was being much better than me at riding their bikes!

I didn’t participate in the entire ride, which was from Dumaguete to Ayungon and back (a total of 160km). Instead, the plan was to join the riders as they went by my house 20km from Dumaguete. I knew they were planning to congregate in Dumaguete at 4:30 am, but I wasn’t sure at what time they’d actually leave, and I wasn’t sure how long it would take them to get to my house. I’m still quite bad at predicting “Filipino time” – I know that this group, in general, is more punctual, but after all, it’s still 4:30 am, and nothing voluntary that early ever starts on time, no matter where you are. At about 6:00 am, as I was getting my things together, my host mom announced that they were rolling by. I scrambled to get my pack together, get some water, and put my shoes on, but they were long gone by the time I got on the road. I hauled to try to catch them, riding a fast 7km to try to join the ride. As I was rolling into the next city, I caught a glimpse of some bikers up ahead, and I was finally able to reel them in as we were heading out of the city. I surveyed the crowd: racing uniforms, spandex, sleek backpacks/camelbacks, clip-in shoes. Me: t-shirt, board shorts, running shoes, and a too-large backpack, because I wanted to bring money, phone, spare tube, sunscreen, and toilet paper, and had no convenient small pack/bike accessory/pocket-in-the-back-of-fancy-biking-jersey in which to place these things.

The pace at the beginning was surprisingly easy, as we rolled through sugarcane fields, palm trees, and small settlements. We stopped in Bais for a breakfast break. Having eaten at home, I passed on the humba (marinated pig fat) and just had a banana, the first of many that day. From there, the pack stayed together for a few kilometers, and gradually began to spread out going into Manjuyod. I was riding at a nice pace and chatting with a guy who grew up in Cebu, lived in California for 20 years, and has retired early here, when he mentioned “there’s a hill here, let’s catch up” and zoomed up and away. It was then I realized the lack of strength in my legs compared to the other participants. When we finally all reconvened a few km up the road at a beautiful cliff that drops off into the Tanon Strait, with a scenic vista of Cebu Island and sparkling blue water, I was definitely feeling it in my legs. I devoured an apple and continued on, being fooled for a little while by a gentle downhill portion, before I really started dropping back from the pack. Eventually I had to stop for a quick pee break, and by then, I was completely alone.

Past the town of Bindoy, 11km from Ayungon, I happily noticed through exhausted eyes that a couple of my friends were resting at a little roadside store. I bought a couple bottles of water and waited with them for a few minutes. Apparently, there were even a couple people behind me. Together, we were the slow group, either because we were older, chubbier, or just a weak-legged American. We pressed on 9 more km and then found a larger group stopped just a couple kilometers out of town. By this point, my thighs hurt so bad that I didn’t know what to do with myself. I got off my bike, walked around, sat on the ground, squatted, but nothing would bring me comfort. Finally there was nothing to do but leg out the last two excruciating kilometers into town. I was sure that I was done for the day, and would just take a bus going back home. We collapsed in the town plaza. My legs were killing me, but it went away after a surprisingly short time, as I was distracted by conversation. We went into the municipal hall to meet with some local officials and get some snacks and put our names on a sign-in sheet (ubiquitous at any gathering of more than 3 people, it seems). I met up for lunch with the Peace Corps Volunteer in town, and then did some of my most enthusiastic riding of the day to get to her house to use the bathroom. I had a bout of LBM (see previous posts) and was seriously doubting whether I could/should make the ride back. Just then, the members of the bike team from my town rolled up to the house – they’d been searching for me, everybody else had already left! I popped a couple Pepto tabs and decided I’d try to go as far as I could.

My legs immediately started killing me, but after a couple km they loosened up so it wasn’t constant pain. Remarkably enough, it was on a climb that I had been dreading, when standing up to pedal the whole way, that all the pain left my legs and I started feeling great. Alone by this time (though not last), I tucked in to the long descent and was feeling very joyous. Eventually I found everybody congregated in Manjuyod for a quick rest. Again, my thighs hurt to the point where it was worse off the bike and I couldn’t really find a comfortable position. We took off again, and I stayed with the pack through the outskirts of Bais, but eventually decided that I was done for a while. I stopped at a small grass patch in front of a gas station that had a sign saying “Ginadili ang istambay dinhi” (Hanging out here is prohibited) and collapsed on the grass. Alternating between lying down, sitting up, and with what must have been a pretty pathetic look on my face, I’m sure I made quite the sight. After a couple minutes, a friend came riding back to let me know that everybody else was stopped at a bakery just a couple blocks ahead, so I pulled myself up and went to join them.

Here the pain became absolutely excruciating. I sat in a plastic chair alternating between elevating my legs, crossing them, shaking them, massaging them, jumping, and walking around, but nothing made them feel better. I borrowed some Effervescent Oil and rubbed the green goop into my thighs, which made them feel something, but it wasn’t less pain. Not realizing how hungry I had been, I wolfed down pastries in one bite and gulped half-liters of water in one chug. Absolutely nothing took the searing pain from my thighs. I felt pathetic and helpless. I looked around desperately, tears welling up in my eyes, fanatically scratching my head. When the group was ready to go, I begged them to let go of their cultural hospitality and care and go on without me. I put my legs up on another chair, hugged my backpack, and fell into some semblance of a sleep, right in the bake shop, on the street corner, with an incredibly loud generator right next to me (it was a brownout at the time). I’m not sure how much later it was, perhaps 20 or 30 minutes, when I woke up and noticed that the pain had miraculously left my legs. I had another piece of banana bread, bought two more bottles of water, and got back on my bike, resolving to finish the last 20 or so kilometers – but slowly. As the sun began to dip toward the mountain, I went at a pace that I knew wouldn’t exhaust me, dealing with a literal pain in the butt that came from being off the saddle too long.

As I was passing through Tanjay, I noticed one of the bikers by the side of the road, putting his bike into his house. A spry older man with gray hair who had left me in the dust numerous times that day, he told me that the others were not too far ahead. They’d stopped in Tanjay for some budbud, the local delicacy, which is a kind of sweet, sticky rice that comes wrapped in a banana leaf. Around the boundary between Tanjay and Amlan, I caught my first glimpses of the cyclists, and soon was caught from behind, much to their surprise, by a group that had apparently stayed in Tanjay a little longer. “How did you get here!?” asked one. I rode with them for a little bit, but was absolutely determined to catch the main pack, so I quickened the pace, knowing that it would cause great pain later but not caring. At first I snuck into the back of the pack, to the happy surprise of the riders. I noticed my friend/local biking mentor/teacher at local high school up at the front of the pack, jumped off the road to the dirt path along the side, and raced up to the front. Everybody was sort of shocked and genuinely delighted to see me sprinting along, having given me up for dead (or at least the bus) back in Bais. Even though I was unquestionably the weakest rider of the group, I felt that I had won the day’s championship just by getting back to the pack. It was only a kilometer or so more into Amlan proper, a triumphant homecoming. A day that began with nervous anticipation, a late start, and a hurried chase, proceeded to new friends, 2.5 liters of water, 6 bananas, 120 km, natural beauty, and personal agony and triumph, had come to its exhausted and satisfied end.

A Pinoy Paddy's Day

2008-03-19T01:12:00.000-07:00

Having your birthday on St. Patrick's Day is great, especially if you're partly Irish and your middle name is Patrick. (Total coincidence, by the way.) In the US, it's a big enough holiday that people get a little excited, but not so big that it overshadows your birthday, the way Christmas might. It compliments things well. However, the Irish have not made too many cultural inroads to my town. Despite the heavily rooted Catholicism in the Philippines, the patron saint of Ireland and engineers is not well known.

What's more, Filipinos celebrate birthdays in a different way. Instead of the birthday-haver's meals, drinks, and everything else being bought for them, and harsh refusals of any suggestion on the part of the birthday haver's offer to pay for anything, here, the one with the birthday is expected to pay for all. In other words, if you don't shell out, you have no party. So you can pretty much decide what kind of a party you want by how much you want to pay. I opted for a low-key office celebration, rather than a huge party fueled by multiple suckling pigs (maybe next year).

Here's the snacks I purchased: pretty standard stuff. A liter of Coke (with real sugar, by the way, I hear that these "Mexican Cokes" are all the rage among hipsters in the US), a liter of Sprite, my two favorite kinds of Pinoy chips, some fresh baked goods, and a trio of kasava cakes I was somewhat coerced into buying earlier in the day from a door-to-door salesman.
The snacks

My birthday ended up turning into a two-day celebration when I brought back the snacks on the 17th and my neighbor/host brother/co-worker expressed great surprise. It turned out he had ordered a cake for me, but thought it was for the 18th. So, on the 18th here, when it was still the 17th in my true birthday-time zone, I continued to receive birthday greetings from home, got a couple packages in the mail, and got to eat a cake inscribed "Happy Birthday Craig Bossman" (I'm the boss, man!). It was a pretty low-key birthday but ended up being a lot of fun. I think for next year, I'll probably go a little more all-out, and also inject a little green food-coloring into the situation. Thanks to everybody who wished me a happy birthday, it's nice to know that so many people are thinking of me while I'm over here (and that Facebook's birthday reminder is a remarkably effective tool).

Speaking of Ireland, I just finished Dubliners by James Joyce. I think the cover of this edition, which my dad sent to me, is remarkably cool (I also highly enjoyed the writing, and recommend that you read it).

Video Removed: Inappropriate Content

2008-02-18T17:32:00.000-08:00

I was surprised yesterday to see an email in my inbox from YouTube titled "Video Removed: Inappropriate Content". What had I, an honest and decent citizen done wrong? The email stated:

Dear Member:

After being flagged by members of the YouTube community and reviewed by YouTube staff, the video below has been removed due to its inappropriate nature.

Cock Fight (3): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H-gl8ebtsYQ

Please refer to our Terms of Use, Community Guidelines, and the Help Center for more information on what video material is not permitted on YouTube.

- The YouTube Team

This was one of my three videos I posted from a cockfight. The first showed the pre-fight spectacle in the arena, the second showed footage from the actual fight (these two are not yet deemed inappropriate, as far as I know), and the third showed the process of determining the loser (or rather, making sure it was actually dead). I was surprised to see the videos rocket in popularity, with thousands of views, suggesting that lots of people are interested in seeing this sort of thing (or on policing it, apparently).

So what are these Terms of Use that I apparently violated? You can see the Community Guidelines here. The ones that were potentially violated were the following, I'm guessing:
# Don't post videos showing bad stuff like animal abuse, drug abuse, or bomb making.
# Graphic or gratuitous violence is not allowed. If your video shows someone getting hurt, attacked, or humiliated, don't post it.

I personally don't think that the video fits in either category. Here's my response to YouTube:

I believe this video has been removed in error. In my opinion, there is nothing particularly inappropriate about it, based on the YouTube guidelines. I understand that people may be offended by cockfighting and/or constitute it as animal abuse, and I don't necessarily disagree with them. My video shows footage from a cockfight in the Philippines, where I am a Peace Corps volunteer, and where cockfighting is a major part of the culture, whether Americans are offended by it or not. I posted the video not to glorify cockfighting, indeed, that was the only time I have ever attended such a fight, but rather to share a part of Philippine culture with friends and family in North America. I urge you to reconsider your decision.

...what do you guys think?

UPDATE
Nobody has commented. No response from YouTube. Which confirms my suspicion that nobody really cares about this topic: either you watch the video, or you don't, but the point is that there's no problem with it being there. I'll probably post it again.

Happy Valentine's Day

2008-02-13T16:32:00.000-08:00

A special card...
captured moment...
beyond caring...

The Special thoughts in warm special words in this Special Edition Hallmark Card, plus a free personal accident insurance coverage for 1 year worth P25,000, tells you how much I CARE for YOU.

Accidental Death, Dismemberment, Disablement
and/or Loss of Sight.............................. Php 25,000.00
Accidental Burial Assistance....................... Php 2,500.00

Ahh, how romantic!

Pinoy English

2008-01-31T22:12:00.000-08:00

The Philippines surely has among the highest percent of English speakers outside of the former British Empire (not including many of the northern European countries, like Sweden, where they speak English better than most Americans). The national language, Tagalog, is often referred to as “Taglish” for the amount of English that’s found its way in. The same could be said about Cebuano – listen to any conversation and you likely hear many English words peppered in. Beginning at an early age, science and mathematics are taught in English. Laws are written in English. Street signs are usually in English. MC’s at events usually speak in English (which is great for me!). Most official communication is in English, as are most daily newspapers, some Filipino television channels (in addition to the many English cable channels), and many radio stations. From this constant English exposure, many terms have developed that are English, or English-based, but are not found in American English. Note that many of the terms deal with technology that has been imported. For example:

Bringhouse (noun) – synonymous to takeout (US) or takeaway (UK) food. Typically you would acquire bringhouse at a fiesta or party, where there is always a huge amount of food and it is custom for guests to bring some home.

CP (noun) – cell phone. Not typically used in my area, where people just say “cell phone”, but I hear that this is common in Luzon.

LBM (noun) – Loose Bowel Movement. This is the proper, polite term for diarrhea, and is always referred to by the acronym. It can also apply to the texture of a single bowel movement, but this is less common. As a rare child who grew up referring to “BM” (“Mommy, I need to go BM!”) rather than any of the innumerable synonyms of this timeless human byproduct, I was delighted to learn of this term.

Load (noun) –pre-paid credits for your cell phone. Can be purchased through higher-denomination cards or in smaller amounts through electronic load (e-load), which is available from almost every business establishment in the country. Load can also be sent from one phone to another. Ex. “Can you send me some load?” “Go buy your own load”.

Lowbat (noun) – the state of having little to no power left in a battery-powered device, whether a phone, camera, computer, etc. Applies whether the device uses a rechargeable battery or disposables. Of all the Filipino English words, I recommend this one for adaption in the US the most. It’s just so much more efficient to point at a device and say “lowbat” than say “I need to charge my cell phone” or “I’m almost out of battery on my camera”.

Misscall (verb) – to call somebody’s cell phone and then immediately hang up after the first ring. (noun) – a missed telephone call that has been sent in the manner previously described. Misscalls are sometimes sent immediately before a text message, to ensure that the person is getting service and that the text message will be received. They are also sent on occasion to annoy, pester, or convey feelings of annoyance or abandonment.

Textmate (noun) – a person whom one corresponds with via text message on a regular basis. Often, but not always, refers to a person of romantic interest. Textmates can be acquired through random messaging or through in-person meeting, but they are not typically someone that is seen on a regular basis. Common texting topics may be your textmate’s current whereabouts and whether or not they have finished the meal corresponding to that time of day.

---UPDATE
If anybody has additional words to add, please post them in the comments. Here's an extra one now:
McDo (noun) - McDonald's. Pronounced "Mack Dough", this is the preferred way to refer to McDonald's, not "Mc D's", "Mickey D's" or any of the other variations. This is promoted by McDonald's itself, and their number is something like 284-MCDO. On a side note, McDo used to have a McRice burger, where rice patties were used instead of hamburger buns to hold the burger. It was delicious, but I only had it once, and now they've discontinued it. Sayang!

Liveband (noun) - refers to, obviously, a live band, but is more commonly used in place of the word "concert". It scarcely matters who the band is, but only that there are live musicians (which would typically be a cover band). Example: "Are you going to liveband tonight?"

Chickboy (noun) - A guy who has a lot of chicks. Among the favorite conversation topics of Filipino males when just sitting around talking. "Chickboy" does not refer to a male who has many feminine tendencies, although that obvious joke is often made about the chickboy in question.

I can't believe I forgot this one originally:
Comfort Room (noun) - More commonly referred to as "CR", this joins "WC" in Europe on the list of English-based acronyms about bathrooms. Or washrooms, restrooms, etc. - they're really all euphemisms, after all. But while the Comfort Room in your house may actually be comfortable (mine is), most CRs in public places are anything but, making this an especially ironic term. It is recommended that you have your own TP and soap, and quite frequently both a strong stomach and legs. A notable exception is McDo, which has spotless CRs.

Akong Tsinellas - An ode to flip-flops

2008-01-19T02:42:00.000-08:00

Flip-flops are a way of life here. The typical Filipino footwear, whether it is for a trip to the market, playing in a basketball game, hanging out at home, or walking along the beach, is the flip-flop. In the Philippines, they are not called flip-flops, but either “slippers” (like in Hawaii) or “tsinellas” (pronounced ‘chinillas’), which is the local word. (The word “thong” is not used here, but is that used anywhere now in reference to these shoes? That was what I grew up calling them. Thanks a lot, Sisqo.) I was never a big proponent of flip flops back home. For most of the year, it was impractical, unless you were some Californian import - they tended to wear them in the most ridiculous temperatures. Also, growing up, I detested the feeling of something between my toes. As a result, I never really got into flip flops until the later years of college when I discovered the joy of Reef sandals, and even then, only on the most pleasant of days that didn’t require too much walking.

However, since coming here, my feet have toughened up and I have become a flip-flop fanatic. I wear them almost all the time, even when cultural or professional standards probably dictate that I shouldn’t. For instance, at work, in meetings with Peace Corps officials, and on national television. While I subscribe to the theory that, in the absence of proper dress shoes, flip-flops better complete an outfit of khaki pants and a dress shirt than a pair of athletic shoes, that is not the common feeling here. Not that I don’t have dress shoes, but really, who wants to wear them in this heat? So I persist, hoping that I’ll get away with it and not offend anybody, and that my reputation will not take too slobby of a hit.

I came here with one pair of flip-flops, and have since purchased three pairs (actually four, the fourth pair bought in a pinch when another pair was causing unbearable pain, but I’ve since given them away because they were comically small on me). It would give me great happiness to describe my tsinellas to you, and so I will:

The Old Trusty Reefs

These were a graduation gift, and they are over one and a half years old. They saw their debut in Europe and have traveled many miles since. They’re showing their wear, most of which was obtained through almost daily use since arriving in the Philippines. Letters are falling off, some of the material is coming off, I’ve had to sew one of the “thong” parts back together, and I need to sew the other one soon. These shoes feature a bottle opener on the bottom, which is kind of a gross idea to begin with, but is always a novelty conversation item (I once amazed a group of Australians with this trick in Berlin). But now, I’ve knowingly stepped in far too many foreign substances (read: different kinds of animal poo) to ever use this feature again. Still, they are my favorites, the sturdiest, and the most comfortable. I could probably only replace them with a newer version of themselves.

The Spartan Greens

These are the standard flip-flops that most Filipinos wear. Cheap, plain, and practical, and fittingly, the brand name is Spartan. I purchased them on one of my first days at my original host family, at the small market in town, for wearing in the house and the bathroom. They are size 11, and while my whole foot fits on them, they’re not as big as I would like, so I continue to use them as house slippers.

The Brazil “Havaianas”

Anybody who has read this far on an inane post about flip-flops is likely to know what Havaianas are – the wildly popular, relatively cheap brand that usually has a little Brazilian flag on the above-foot part (does anybody know what that’s called? Writing this post has made me realize my lack of knowledge on flip-flop terminology). These are often imitated here – as "Havanas", or Havaianas - just not the real thing, probably - like mine. I purchased these shortly after moving to my current house, because I wanted to keep the plain green ones for my room, and I wanted another pair to wear while puttering around between my room and the main house. They’re still too small for me (size 11), but they’re very comfortable anyway, so I mostly wear them when I’m at home. The bottom used to be all green except for the yellow diamond of the Brazilian flag, but I played basketball in them one time, and the green wore away into the funny footprint design you see today.

The Red Benches

I got these ones most recently, partially to provide relief to my sometimes-smelly Reefs, and partially because they were a legit size 12, which is very hard to come by here. They’re from Bench, which is like the Philippine version of the Gap, and are sturdier than the previous, cheaper two. I wore them a lot when I first bought them, but they pick up dirt very easily and no longer look as fashionable, so it’s harder for me to get away with wearing them to work, etc., and I usually wear my Brazils around the house. For now, they’re riding the pine while I try to find a way to work them into the rotation. (Get it? ‘Bench’ed! Hah!)

Mass Transit

2008-01-17T21:28:00.000-08:00

I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw this photo from the Seattle P-I about the new South Lake Union Trolley (I hear the hipsters in Seattle are calling it the SLUT). To have such a thing in Seattle, our glorious city of much bickering and little construction when it comes to a transit system, is fantastic. In fact, I'm usually pretty excited about mass transit in general. One of my favorite things about going to different cities is riding their subway/light rail/trolley to check out the area. I've already instructed my parents to not meet me at the airport upon my return in 2009, because I want to glide triumphantly into downtown Seattle on the light rail. Indeed, it's quite possible that my future career will involve work on mass transit in Seattle in some capacity.

While there is a light rail system in Manila, the rest of land transportation in the Philippines is on wheels (as you have seen, and will continue to see, with my ongoing "Rules of the Road" series). However, I have a whiz-bang idea to connect the cities and towns of Negros Oriental: light rail. (Note: you may substitute subway or monorail for light rail throughout this post, the main idea is a linear mass transit system with a dedicated right-of-way). In many ways, it would be the transportation planner's dream, in that almost the entire population is spread out linearly along the coast. Many of the problems that plague transit planners in the Western US – a lack of interest in riding public transportation, reluctance to get out of personal cars, widely spread origins and destinations (a result of strip-mall sprawl), debates over the best route, and steep grade changes, to name a few - are non-existent here. Almost everybody lives along the one coastal road that connects all the towns. Those who live on spurs off the main road still must use the main coastal road for almost all commerce or transportation. Destinations off the main road are typically easily reachable by taking a trike, motorcycle, or walking - the system that currently exists. Almost all vehicles using the road are traveling only on the road, in one direction or the other. With the implementation of a light rail, the only vehicle traffic necessary would be industrial traffic, which would have its own dedicated corridor. Bicycles, etc., could have their own path (this could also be shared with motorcycles). If all buses, easy-rides, jeepneys, tricycles, and private vehicles were replaced by the light rail, I would estimate that traffic would drop by 70%, and the travel time between one destination and the next would drop dramatically. Stops could be made in every barangay, with tricycle and motorcycle drivers congregating at stations to carry passengers to their final destination. Emissions and vehicle-related pollution would also drop (many of the vehicles here release noxious clouds of smoke wherever they go, looking something like Pigpen from Peanuts). A light rail system here would be heavily used, out of both necessity and convenience. It would certainly be a boon for the burgeoning tourism industry here, and would increase the flow of goods because heavy industrial trucks barreling down the highway wouldn’t have to suddenly slow to a crawl behind a 13-year old boy riding a bicycle carrying two pigs in the sidecar.

The downsides? A lot of people involved in the current transportation industry could lose their jobs (although I would advocate for them to be involved in the operation of the new light rail system). Right-of-way could be hard to come by because businesses and houses already tightly line the national highway, so the subway option might be the most feasible in order to eliminate a lot of land conflicts. And, an issue that Washingtonians will be familiar with is, of course, the cost. But all things considered, this has got to be one of the most useful places in the world for a light rail. So what do you say, Mr. Governor?

And Mom and Dad: I’ll see you downtown in August ’09. I think I’ll get off at the Westlake stop.

Kasama ko

2008-01-15T18:45:00.000-08:00

On Friday afternoon, I was uploading a video to YouTube as the office closed. I don’t have a key, so I had to vacate. I didn’t want to close my laptop, because it was in the middle of an upload, but it was raining outside, so I couldn’t really walk to anywhere dry and within range of the wireless signal. I ended up sitting on the ground directly outside of the office, huddling under the thin awning. It is in this position that I uploaded multiple new videos, and then my leg fell asleep to the point where it could have been amputated without pain. But as I mentioned, due to my dedication to my upload, and the rain, I was rendered immobile. I’m sure everybody in my town thinks I’m crazy. Then, when I was done with my upload and really had to pee, I physically couldn’t move because my leg was as dead as Ron Paul’s presidential chances. It was in this ridiculous position that I received a call from the Peace Corps Medical Officer telling me that David, another volunteer based on Siquihor, was in the hospital, and asking me to be his kasama.

I’ve never spent much time in the hospital, period, and haven’t yet been sick enough to go here, so I’m not sure exactly how things work in the United States, even. In the Philippines, if you are admitted to the hospital, you are expected to have a kasama (“companion” in Tagalog) with you to get prescriptions, food, etc. I don’t think there’s a call button for the nurses’ station, so I suppose if something dramatic were to happen, you would be responsible for alerting the staff. Visiting hours at this particular hospital go until 8:00PM, and then you’re required to sign in as the “watcher”.

As Peace Corps volunteers, we’re lucky enough to get private rooms while we’re in the hospital. Other options are shared rooms with curtains or even being placed out in the hall. No matter what the room set up is, a watcher is standard. So while I had the luxury of an incredibly narrow bed, other have to post up on plastic chairs in the hall or even share the patient’s bed. My particular duties in this case were to get supplementary food to add to the small portions served by the hospital, to take prescriptions from the doctors down to the pharmacy and bring the medicines to the nurses’ station (why they need members of the public as middle men in this process, I’m not sure, it has something to do with the billing procedure), and mostly, to provide company. I think the kasama routine is partially necessary and partially a cultural phenomenon. It’s probably more necessary in a more no-frills hospital where you have to provide all your own food.

Not that our room was totally frilly beyond the presence of air-con and cable television. If it weren’t for the helpful tips of my neighbor, an emergency room nurse, I would not have brought along a pillow, sheet, or towel, and it would have been pretty miserable. As it was, it was kind of like staying in a well-worn hotel room where the door is never locked and people are constantly coming in and out around the clock to stick thermometers under your friend’s armpit, take his blood pressure, and ask him about his bowel movements, as you try not to fall off your two-foot wide bed. It was actually the first time I’ve spent the night in the hospital since I came home as a newborn.

Here’s a picture of the set-up, and David:

This also seems like a good place to mention that my (emergency room nurse) neighbor and host family said that if I’m ever down in Dumaguete late without a place to stay or a ride home, I could go to the ER and inquire about a cot, or wait for an ambulance going north and just catch a ride. So far I haven’t taken advantage of this offer, but I think I might, just to be able to say that I caught the 2AM ambulance going home.

Eavesdropping

2008-01-14T22:14:00.000-08:00

My friend Michelle and I went into the Cebu Pacific Airlines ticket office; I to purchase a plane ticket, and she to inquire about prices. I was up first and paid for my ticket, and was told to sit down and wait for my change and for my ticket to print. After a couple minutes, Michelle got her quote and started to head out the door, and I got up and followed her. The security guard ran after me saying “Sir, your ticket!” I had forgotten that I was actually waiting to get my ticket, not for Michelle to finish. (We were heading separate ways after the stop at the ticket office.) I went back inside and sat back down. The lady across the office from me said loudly to her friend, “Kalimot siya kay gwapaaaa!” to big laughs (basically, “he forgot because of the beautiful girl!”). Now, I’m doing alright in the language, but it’s still usually hard to perfectly understand exactly what somebody says if it’s not directed at me. But this was perfect – not only were they talking about me, loudly and directly in front of me, giving me no credit, but I understood every word. I jumped at the opportunity.

The conversation went like this, but all in Cebuano:

The women: Kalimot siya kay gwapaaaa! Laughs to each other.

Me: (Loudly, from across the room) Ah, but she has a different boyfriend.

Them: Shocked giggles, having been completely caught.

Me: Be careful, because I understand you!

Them: Laughs – You and she (the girl at the ticket counter) should date, then!

Me: Sorry, I have a girlfriend, too.

Them: Laughs

The rest of the conversation isn’t really worth reporting, just standard “how do you know our language?” explanations. But let me tell you, it is a very satisfying feeling to catch somebody talking about you in a different language, especially if it’s not malicious and you can turn it into a big joke, giving them a shock in the process.

New Videos

2007-12-06T22:02:00.000-08:00

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!

The Thrill of Victory

2007-12-04T18:44:00.000-08:00

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 Ukay-Ukay

2007-12-04T17:43:00.000-08:00

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.

Rules of the Road: Jeepneys

2007-11-27T01:10:00.000-08:00

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.

Comments of an Enthusiastic Human about Confessions of an Economic Hitman

2007-11-25T16:50:00.000-08:00

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.
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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.
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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 =)

It happens in the Philippines, too

2007-11-21T00:03:00.000-08:00

toothpastefordinner.com

(original comic)

Cribs

2007-11-14T01:00:00.000-08:00

Just Watch.

Supersonics

2007-11-14T00:10:00.000-08:00

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.

Shawn Kemp Dunks

Payton Era Highlights

Seattle Times Sonics Articles

Sayaw Darling, Sayaw Darling!

2007-11-06T16:25:00.000-08:00

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

Pre-show, hanging out on the set

David and I with one of the Wowowee dancers

Re-launch

2007-11-02T20:57:00.000-07:00

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

Wala mo'y ulaw!

2007-08-27T00:09:00.000-07:00

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,

Please add take away the T, and add the V, thank you.

2007-08-10T22:42:00.000-07:00

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!

Final Training Project

2007-08-10T22:35:00.000-07:00

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.

The Quest for 14 Kilometers

2007-08-10T22:30:00.000-07:00

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.

Scuba Diver Ko!

2007-07-23T02:56:00.000-07:00

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.

Hygiene

2007-07-17T02:11:00.000-07:00

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.

Independence Day

2007-07-04T02:19:00.001-07:00

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.

Pictures!

2007-06-04T01:01:00.000-07:00

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!

Baalllliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin

2007-06-01T02:45:00.001-07:00

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.

Field Assessments

2007-05-30T02:20:00.000-07:00

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.

Laundry By Hand

2007-05-28T03:24:00.000-07:00

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..

Initial Orientation and The Beginning of Training

2007-05-24T22:53:00.000-07:00

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.

It Begins!

2007-05-13T16:51:00.000-07:00

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