11 things there are a lot of in the Philippines

Posted in foreign food festival, Spanish, travel by

So much to say about the Philippines but I will start with this thought: I love staying in a place long enough not only to observe the little things that are culturally different but also to discern which of those things are ubiquitous and truly significant. When you spend enough time to notice something over and over again, it makes you feel you are getting to know the culture on more than just a surface level.

For example, one day we drove past kids playing basketball on a roadside court surrounded by wilderness. I wasn’t sure if it was an anomaly or a thing. Within a few days I realized the courts are everywhere (everywhere in the middle of nowhere). Apparently Filipinos love basketball and they also love putting their courts in the most random places (including on an actual road, so that we had to drive through the court to get where we were going).

In no particular order, here are 11 things I saw everywhere during my 11 days in the Philippines:

AFFECTIONATE SCHOOLKIDS

The boys all walk home with their arms around each other’s shoulders and the girls hold hands or link elbows.

affectionate schoolgirls

affectionate schoolboys

TUK TUKS (WHICH THEY CALL TRICYCLES)

There are so many scooters in the Philippines, and most seem like they are being used as taxis. They load them up with a death-defying number of people til they look like clown cars, with multiple people riding on the seat behind the driver, multiple people in the sidecar, and multiple people on the roof of the sidecar holding on to one measly handlebar.

tricyclestricycles loaded up with people

VULCANIZING SHOPS

I kept seeing tires on the roadside advertising these shops. I realized I have no idea what vulcanizing means. Apparently it is what you do to patch holes in tires.

vulcanizing shops

SODA BOTTLES FILLED WITH FUEL

I first assumed they filled Coke bottles with a homemade punch-like brew but later learned it is actually gas for all the scooters.

gas in coke bottles

STORES WITH THE MOST STRAIGHTFORWARD NAMING CONVENTION EVER

I found it hilarious that most stores took a what-you-see-is-what-you-get approach to their names: the first word was the person’s given name, the second word was the type of store. Everywhere I looked it was Louisa’s Bakeshop or Fernanda’s Store or even just Mary Store, no apostrophe needed.

stores named after people another store named after people

EYE CANDY JEEPNIES

These mini-busses are franchises, so the driver can decorate the vehicle to his liking. The results are amazing. (Also amazing: riders climb in the back wherever they happen to be when the bus passes by.)

jeepnie

jeepnie

jeepnie

jeepnie KTV BARS

KTV = karaoke

ktv bars

MILLIONS OF DOGS ROAMING FREELY

(Not to mention freely roaming water buffalo, and hogs, and goats, and ducks, and chickens…)

another roaming dog roaming dog

CHICKEN ARROZ CALDO

Traditional breakfast porridge that was a gluten-free god-send. Not pictured because I liked mine no frills: the tiny limes (called calamansi), fried garlic, and green onions usually sprinkled on top.

chicken porridge

THE AFOREMENTIONED BASKETBALL COURTS 

basketball court

basketball court

PINT-SIZED BANANAS

baby bananas

baby bananas

And one more for good measure:

REMNANTS OF SPANISH COLONIZATION

I noticed just a few Spanish words and culinary influences, but the most visible evidence of the former Spanish presence were the grand old cathedrals cutting a strange and imposing figure in the midst of hut villages.

remnants of spanish colonialization

A few other things I didn’t get photos of: 

A million Jollibees, the McDonalds of the Philippines (and to my chagrin, the welcome signs to villages were often printed on signs featuring the bee)

Garlic rice – i.e. rice with fried garlic chips in it – served with everything

Freestanding shrines with statues of Mary in them

Frogs hopping along the roads at night

Laundry drying on lines and over fences

Rice paddies

Rain, rain and more rain (it was rainy season)

And the more abstract things you can’t really capture on camera: 

A predilection for sweet-tasting everything

Lots of religious faith

Air fresheners that smelled like chemical lemongrass and made me nauseous

Some of the warmest people I have ever met

back, with an ironic souvenir

Posted in travel by

sick in bed

Here is a list of all the medicine and supplies I brought with me on my trip, in anticipation of any and all illness or need (or so I thought):

Pepto Bismol

Prescription Ciprofloxacin pills in case of food poisoning / bacterial infection

Imodium AD

Aleve for headaches

Dramamine regular formula

Dramamine non-drowsy formula

Claritin for allergies

“Gluten Defense” pills for accidental gluten ingestion

Antibacterial hand gel

Antibacterial hand wipes

Soap

97% Deet

50 SPF sunblock

Bacitracin

Band-Aids

Enough tampons to last me ’til menopause

Travel size contact solution

Check-in size contact solution

Two extra pairs of contacts

Glasses, just in case

Halfway through my trip I came down with a terrible sore throat and nasty cough, and by the last day I had full-on laryngitis. The one thing I didn’t have on-hand? Cold medicine. Thankfully one of my colleagues had brought Tylenol PM. It was the only medicine I took.

More than a week later, I’m still fighting the cold and now also a deadline. I’ll be back with highlights from the world’s most emotional country (supposedly, though not in my actual experience) once I’ve beaten both into submission.

(Photo: Jenny / Cupcake Cozy, Creative Commons license.)

on the road again

Posted in travel by

It’s the eve of my departure for a far-off land. Half of my suitcase is a medicine cabinet and the other half is a gluten-free snack bar. I’m not quite sure of the degree to which I’ll be roughing it, but I have packed for every eventuality.

Tonight I’m reminding myself that I’m always more resilient in the moment than I think I am beforehand. My anxiousness is, I think, just a side product of “fear of happiness.”

Fingers crossed I am jumping headlong into a life-changing adventure that doesn’t include mosquito-borne illnesses, seasickness, typhoons, or travelers’ diarrhea. (But if it does, I have things packed for that.)

Have a lovely two weeks and enjoy your tap water!

(Photo of everything I’m bringing to the airport: Jasleen Kaur, Creative Commons license.)

on sufferfest-ing

Posted in French, Spanish by

 

The story in The New York Times Magazine about Sarah Marquis, a 42 year-old Swiss woman who walked 10,000 miles of wilderness in 3 years, alone, and endured all sorts of crazy natural and man-made calamities along the way, was excellent food for thought. Her need to test herself in isolation, to persevere over seemingly arbitrary challenges that she fashions for herself, to travel and experience huge swaths of the earth on rather trying terms – all in search of an “inchoate feeling” that gives her life substance – seems bonkers and maladjusted, yes, but somehow also completely self-actualized and inspiring.

This line especially spoke to me: But perhaps the reason to court a sufferfest – to explore or adventure, or whatever you want to call it – is that it makes a person feel alive.

I’m no Sarah Marquis by any stretch of the imagination. My personal extremes are about eight thousand times less extreme than hers. But the compulsion to go to them is familiar to me.

In fact, I seem to be courting sufferfests right and left these days. Learning French and (pretending to learn) Spanish are the ones I talk about here – but there are many more. Sometimes there is no reward, only suffering. But sometimes it all pays off and there is a feeling of extreme exhilaration and purpose. I am in the midst of a work-related sufferfest right now that I’m hoping will come out on the side of the latter. Only time will tell…

(Get over the) hump day inspiration: fun French music

Posted in French, music by

Indochine in concertA compendium of the French music that has been introduced to me over the course of my twenty years (on and off) of studying the language:

Indochine

My first year of French, in eighth grade, the teacher would start each class with a few songs from one of her French albums. She played them on an actual record player, which is how I know it really was a long time ago. Indochine is the only music I still remember from that year. I loved it because it took me on a nostalgic trip back to the new wave of my 80’s childhood, but at the same time it was completely new and catchy to me. Call me crazy / 47 years old, but I do really think Indochine makes good music.

Here’s the album my teacher would play for us. My favorite song was and still is “Tes Yeux Noir (scroll forward to 35:47):

Diam and Koxie 

In grad school I took a French class after ten years without formal – or really, any – study. For one looong and humbling semester I endured the snarky looks of barely-adult undergrads who had no patience for my halting mangled French. I made friends instead with the one other grad student (who also spoke much better French than I did – I was the worst in the class by a long shot). The one favor those haughty undergrads did for me was to introduce me to Diam and Koxie, both woman rappers of immigrant ancestry. At a recent Meetup I learned from the Togolese guy that Diam wears the hijab now and has stopped making music. Perhaps the two things are related, perhaps not – I leave that to you to Google if the spirit moves you.

Diam:

Koxie:

At another recent Meetup, Kery James was another French rapper recommended to me:

And at yet another one, I was told to listen to MC Solaar:

And just for fun, since this has become a list dominated by French rappers, here’s a song from the (highly derivative) Busta Flex album I bought pretty much at random the year I studied abroad in Ireland and spent a day in Paris on spring break:

For good measure, a beautiful / spunky / easy-to-follow-even-if-you-speak-terrible-French song that Emmanuel sent to me, by Françoiz Breut:

What do you think?

(Photo of Indochine doing the we-can-still-rock-in-middle-age thing: Laurent Breillat, Creative Commons license.)

rire & sourire

Posted in French by

adorable smile

It occurred to me the other day that sourire (smile) literally means ‘under-laugh’ (sous-rire). Something about that is so lovely.

I looked up the etymology and here’s what I found:

“Parce qu’il vient autant du cœur que de la raison, le sourire dit tout et son contraire. Première forme de langage non verbal, il crée instantanément du lien lorsqu’il est authentique, génère de l’inquiétude lorsqu’il est rictus ou provoque un malaise lorsqu’il est forcé.  …

Son étymologie est mal définie: du latin subridere, il viendrait ‘avant le rire,’ dont il serait un avatar inachevé et silencieux, esquissé et contenu. Le sourire ne serait-il qu’un sous-rire, un rire au rabais?

Avant de rire, nous avons souri. Le bébé sourit dès la naissance, alors que les premiers éclats de rire ne commencent qu’entre 4 et 8 mois. Sourire est un comportement inné, et non un apprentissage culturel. …

Le sourire est donc loin d’être une forme affaiblie du rire. … ‘Le sourire est la perfection du rire,’ écrit le philosophe Alain à propos de la plus subtile des expressions humaines.”

My butchery of an interpretation (corrections welcome!):

“Because it comes as much from the heart as from the mind, the smile tells us everything and nothing. The first form of non-verbal language, it instantly creates a connection when it is authentic, generates uneasiness when it is a grin, or provokes malaise when it is forced.

Its etymology is badly defined: from the latin subridere, it would come ‘before the laugh,” which would make it an unfinished and silent transformation, sketchy and contained. [Editor’s note: Wtf??] The smile would be but an under-laugh, a cheap laugh.

Before laughing, we smiled. The baby smiles from birth, while the first peels of laughter don’t occur until sometime between 4 and 8 months. To smile is something that happens on the inside, and not culturally learned behaviour.

The smile is therefore far from being a weakened form of laughter. ‘The smile is the perfection of laughter,’ writes philospher Alain about the most subtle of human expressions.”

Those French and their poetic way with language. (But, oh, what a mockery my translation makes of it.)

(Photo: My niece’s loveliest of smiles, surpassed only by her laughter.)

Clovis’ show

Posted in travel by
Clovis Pareiko's show
So, Clovis’ opening. It was delightful. His paintings blew me away. I had seen them online but that did not at all prepare me for the punch they packed in person. The color, texture, depth and luminosity were all so brilliant. Photos don’t do them justice, but here goes anyway.
Clovis Pareiko's show
Clovis Pareiko's show
Clovis at his show
The show was at Clovis’ studio in Bushwick, a neighborhood where I haven’t spent much time but have been wanting to explore lately. The studio space at first felt like it was in the middle of nowhere, an industrial wasteland, but actually it turned out to be a couple of blocks from what may be my new favorite spot in the entire city. I wish I had thought to take a picture but I didn’t and it was probably too dark anyway. But this one intersection where five streets met reminded me so much of Buenos Aires where the neighborhood of Colegiales borders Palermo Hollywood. First of all there was so much space that it didn’t feel like New York at all. Individual buildings seemed to have been constructed and/or renovated by the people who owned them to suit their particular needs and take advantage of all that space, rather than by developers working to create a certain style. There was art covering the walls of several buildings, and the non-gridded streets came together in a way that resembled B.A.’s many airy plazas. Plus we sat on a bench outside a chill but classy bar to eat sausages that tasted not unlike the chorizo I had at Miranda in Palermo. And then some guy walked by speaking Spanish, so the fantasy projection was complete.
Google street view saves the day! Bushwick:bushwick
bushwick
meets Buenos Aires:
Buenos Aires
Buenos Aires
Buenos Aires
Between the energy of the opening and the thrill of finding Argentina in the most unlikely corner of Brooklyn, last Tuesday night was quite an adventure. Bushwick, I will be back…

i forgot to give this post a title

Posted in French by

angry white cat

Remember how Jordan described her language exchange experience as akin to online dating? Well…

I was cleaning out my email inbox, which is full of unread messages I’ve received from people who found me on conversationexchange.com, the site that connects people who want to learn the other’s language. I’ve been ignoring the message notifications for awhile now, since I’m happy with my current situation Skyping once a week with Philippe. I don’t have the time or inclination to do it more often than that, and we always have stuff to talk about, so there’s no point being in touch with other people.

I was curious, though, about who had contacted me. I didn’t want to delete the message notifications without first reading their actual messages, so I logged in to Conversation Exchange for the first time in months.

I worked my way backwards through my inbox, reading everyone’s message and then looking at their profile. I was happy to confirm that I wasn’t missing out on anything. When I got near the bottom I saw my initial emails with Philippe. I re-read them and looked at his profile, wondering whether the way he presented himself would align with my current impression of him. I was amused to see that his profile picture is of a very fat angry-looking cat that he has never once mentioned.

I was less amused to notice that his last log-in date was that very day. Despite acknowledging my own ridiculousness, I felt slightly wounded. Philippe is Skyping with other people? How does he find the time? What does he talk to them about? Are they better at French than me? Do they know about his pissed-off cat?

It had crossed my mind before then that Philippe might have more than one conversation partner since he speaks much better English than I speak French. He’s got to be practicing a whole lot more than me. But seeing such open evidence of his philandering took me aback.

Not being completely removed from reality, I quickly recovered and reasoned that if I’m not fully satisfying Philippe (linguistically!), it’s perfectly fine for him to look elsewhere to meet his needs. I’m OK with polyamory in this particular relationship. Especially because if we’re going to take the dating analogy to its logical extreme, I basically attend swingers orgies every Monday night.

(Photo of a cat that resembles but is definitely not Philippe’s actual cat: Craig / Tjflex2,  Creative Commons license.)

have a good weekend!

Posted in French, le week-end by

people's climate march

People! It’s the weekend. (Yet I’m still at work. But leaving soon!)

This week was my best ever for French conversation – I am practically thinking in French by now. On Sunday I Skyped with Philippe. On Monday I went to the French conversation Meetup and talked to a guy from Togo for like two hours about all things West African. Yesterday at Clovis’ art opening (which I will write about later) the cinematographer for Thomas’ documentary was filming and he spoke about ten words of English so I talked to him in French for an hour. And then today I Skyped with Philippe again before running the Central Park loop for National Run at Work Day. Which is why I’m now working late…

But I’m minutes away from leaving and I’m so excited about this weekend. On Saturday I will show up at a doll hospital that has already told me they’re not interested in me doing a short film about them. I will show up with my beloved doll Cindy, who is now in six parts held together by a little hooded onesie my mother sewed to keep her arms, legs and head quasi-intact. I will see what they can do for Cindy and in the process hope to charm them into letting me make the film.

On Sunday I will join the People’s Climate March. I was torn about which section to walk in. I really wanted to be with the anti-corporate people, where my allegiance lies. But they are in the only really blamey, negative section of the march; the others are all hopeful and solutions-based and I think I want to spend my day surrounded by positivity. Plus I will be wearing enough branded apparel that I’ll feel a little silly being all anti-capitalist with evidence of hypocrisy all over my body.

What does this have to do with French or Spanish or Hebrew? Well, apparently there are concurrent events all around the world. Plus an environmental apocalypse would wipe all humans and thus all languages off the face of the earth. So there’s that tenuous link, if you need one.

Allons-y! Le week-end commence maintenant!

youssou

Posted in French, inspiration & encouragement, le week-end, music, travel by

Youssou N'Dour at BAM

Over the weekend I saw Youssou N’Dour perform in Brooklyn. I don’t say this lightly: it was transportive. The music is so overwhelmingly life-affirming, and I’m chomping at the bit to go to Senegal. So I spent the entire show alternately blissing out in the moment and imagining myself living in Dakar in the near future, making a weekend routine of going out to dance to West African music.

The band kept announcing him as the “minister of the people” but I would more aptly call N’Dour the minister of tourism because within minutes of his arrival onstage I was ready to pack up and go.* Lo and behold, I just looked up his discography and he is indeed Senegal’s minister of tourism and culture as of 2012! That is both hilarious and entirely appropriate.

Sometimes I think I’m going to wimp out on my language sabbatical but then a night like Saturday’s reminds me of how much fun I will have and eradicates the fear. In fact, I spent a good part of the show wallowing in fantasy-land “logistics” planning: I’d move to Senegal next November and spend the winter months learning French eight hours a day, then visit every country in West Africa after becoming proficient, next head south to Zimbabwe and South Africa just because, then cut back up to Rwanda, then turn east into Tanzania and Kenya, and finally somehow end up in the south of France in time for summer. Oh, and there’d also magically be time and money for Mozambique and Madagascar. And then I’d move to South America for Spanish immersion.

It’s good to dream… And eventually, when the time is ripe, I will become a bit more realistic about my dreams and turn them into reality. (With God as my witness.)

* pending Ebola neutralization

I leave you with a clip from the show, taken by someone with a much better seat than mine!