Traveling Isn’t Always Easy

On December 13th I woke at 5:00 a.m. and headed out to catch a jeepney headed north. I was excited about my Christmas vacation plans. I waited until 7 a.m. for a jeep to Pandan, but the jeep drove only one block before stopping at a station where the driver spent an hour patching three flat tires. By 8 a.m. we were out of Bugasong and it was beginning to rain. The jeep was a bit crowded with 7 small children, 4 nursing mothers feeding babies, the 4 husbands, an old man, a married couple, the driver and conductor, a teenage girl with 10 year old brother on her lap, 3 men in the front seat, 6 men hanging on the back, me, all the passengers’ luggage, and of course, and a pig on the roof. This is about an average jeep load. A little further on, we had another flat tire so stopped to change it. About 10 minutes later a jeep passed going in the opposite direction and gave us a new spare tire, which we exchanged with the tire we had just put on. Hence we stopped for another tire change.

Flat tires, however, were not our main concern, The real issue was that it was really raining hard by now and the rivers get a high when it rains. Of course, there are few bridges going north in the province. If we came to a river that was running high, the general practice would be to put plastic over the vehicle engine and drive right through the river. Right about this time I was wishing that our jeep had those clear plastic flaps to pull down over the open windows. We were all getting pretty wet from the rain and cold from the wind. Eventually, around Sebaste, we came to a river that was running a bit fast and seemed a little deep for our jeep. The driver took a minute to contemplate, then charged into the river. The engine sputtered and went out in style. Thigh deep in the water, we marched out, shoes and packages held high. I waded back for some babies and other peoples’ packages. We tied a rope to the front and pulled and pushed our vehicle to the other side of the river.

We then waited for everything to dry, mostly the engine.  About 4 inches of water had been rushing through the jeep. The jeep eventually proceeded northward, but the rivers became progressively worse. About 10 minutes later, at the next river, the same thing happened—but this time with 6 or 8 inches of water rushing through. Not surprisingly, about 15 minutes later we reach a river about 5 times as wide and really rushing. There were a few vehicles dead and drowning in the river, so we just returned to the nearest house to wait it out. One of the passengers wandered off and found a house that would feed us, so we all trooped over to the house and munched down on rice and fish.  Another passenger had donated three small fish about 6” long each. It tasted delicious, the way food tastes when you’re backpacking. It had a much needed warming effect, as the wind was blowing and everyone was soaked through. Certainly I was the only one with a protective layer of fat. Barefoot we walked back to the original house to wait.

After about 1½ hours we returned to the river to make our next attempt at crossing. We were transferred to another jeep, with a few new passengers, including an elderly lady. The old lady had everybody on the jeep looking for her smaggles (flip flops were called smaggles because they were once smuggled to the island). It turns out, they were on her feet.  Well, we all truck down to the river. One man takes his phonograph out and decides to wade across the river to protect it. The water is well above his waist and we were all sure from the way he wavered that the fast current would knock him down. But I guess he was experienced at trekking across rivers because he was successful. The rest of us climbed into the jeep and charged into the river. I had been placed in the front seat and was sitting up high, squatting on the seat, beside the driver. The water rose up past my waist as the jeep died in the water. This time the strong current was too much for me and I needed help getting back to the shore, on the side where we had started. The men who helped us back, the same ones who retrieved our luggage, had strong legs like the trunks trees. They were local tuba gatherers, who climbing the coconut trees daily to gather the coconut wine.

I was back on shore, with packages, suitcases, women, babies, and the old lady. We were all shivering, but the old lady was really shivering badly, so I held my umbrella against the wind for her and put my sweater and arm around her. I could only think of how terrible if Grandma was going through this. She was about my Grandma’s size and age. After an hour, all the men, plus men in the nearby houses, pulled the jeep back out of the water with a rope. The jeep needed to dry out because water had been rushing practically over our roof by the end of the ordeal. When the jeep was ready to head back to the house where we could wait again, the old lady wanted to stay at the river and cook rice because she was cold and hungry. I gave her bread and helped her to the jeep with her cane.

A big bus eventually showed up. We boarded the bus and decided to make another run at crossing the river. It didn’t work. Then a bigger bus followed. Our driver, about 19 years old and and 4’10, gets into the big bus and charges it across the river, barely succeeding. He then attaches a rope to the big bus that had successfully crossed the river, and he carries the other end of the rope back across the river, almost drowning as he does so. He ties the free end of the rope to the smaller bus that has not yet crossed the river. We all get on board the smaller bus and our tiny driver charges into the water with the bus. When we are about ¾ of the way to the opposite side of the river, another driver hits the gas on the big bus, which  takes off and pulls us through the river and out of the water. Water was gushing into the bus—but I was too cold and wet to care. Then this little guy drives and/or helps pull other jeeps across. Simultaneously I watch a dozen or so men carry a motorcycle across. It’s all insane. But after 13 hours, we reach Pandan—a town about 50 miles from Bugasong where I had started my day at 5 a.m. They insist that the ride to Pandan should take 2½ hours.

We spent the night in Pandan. People offered me a place to stay. A nice Filipino, also stuck there for the night, bought me dinner. He was very nice and enjoyable to talk with. At 5 a.m. the next morning, I proceeded to Aklan and finally arrived in Lezo, where Toni lives. We stayed up until 2 a.m. chatting. It was fun to be on vacation and to be with an American woman.

Toni and I had planned to travel next to Roxas and pick up Pat to join us on a boatride to Manila. But we coulddn’t get to Pat’s because everything was flooded, and the seas to Manila were really rough so boats were cancelled. We were sad that Pat wouldn’t be joining us for the holiday, and for a while, we thought that Toni and I would be stuck in Lezo for Christmas. The roads out of Toni’s town were flooded. Then we learned of a makeshift, hanging pedestrian bridge over the flood waters. We  managed to carry our suitcases across a narrow rickety bridge. It was a bit sketchy, but with an adrenalin surge, we made it. We got to Kalibo, bought plane tickets to head to Manila the following day, and stayed overnight at James and Crain’s apartment in Kalibo, though they were already out of town for the holiday vacation. The thundering rain wakened me several times during the night.

Finally we caught the noon flight to Manila and checked in at Pension Adriatico. We went from Quiapo to Quezon City where we walked, browsed through shops, had ice cream and tried to see a movie that had been misadvertised. We were frustrated about the movie and getting lost when we wandered into a scene of skaters around a fountain globe in Luneta Park. It was a nice discovery and peaceful way to end a frustrating couple of days.

Much of the time in Manila was lackluster. Probably as the result of beer and ice cream, my amoeba returned with diarrhea, sharp cramping, bloody stools, and malaise.

Eventually, we caught a bus to the resort town Baguio in the mountains, where it is cooler.  It was cold (58° at night), had real pine trees and fresh strawberries. Toni and I got a place in the dormitory at Teacher’s Camp, went to dinner at a Chinese restaurant, and then to the Fireplace for folk music and mellowing out. Being pacific northwest girls, we walked back to the dorm high on brisk air and pine trees.

The rest of the time in Bagiuo City was spent around other Peace Corps Volunteers in a homey group cabin with a fireplace. We saw the Godfather II, bought sausages, bread, cream cheese, and milk, had dinner and a relaxing night at the cabin, went to breakfast late, wandered the park, went to a Buddhist Temple and had our fortunes told, made strawberry shortcake, ate treats, danced and drank. On Christmas Eve, I was sitting at The Or House swilling down gin and tonics and realized that I has a first class case of the munchies which subsequently led me to wander around Baguio in search of FOOD! I found the Holsum Bakery with honest-to-goodness cream puffs, as in miniature chocolate eclairs like my grandma used to give me on Saturday mornings. What a discovery. Earlier on Christmas Eve I’d bought stocking stuffers and that evening I hung stockings over the fireplace for the four people in my group: Jerry, Toni, James, and Mike McQuestion. The guys seemed most thrilled by the matching sock at the bottom of their stocking and wondered where they came from. Their own socks were wearing out and it hadn’t occurred to them to buy new ones. Perhaps their mothers had always bought their socks. On Christmas day we sent telegrams to those spending Christmas alone in their sites, like Pat.  I was so content giving and not receiving Christmas gifts. What more could a person ask for? I’ll tell you what: a Christmas Turkey dinner with stuffing, mashed potatoes and even pumpkin pie. Would you believe I happened upon that!! One Peace Corp Volunteer who is in the group of a guy who is in the town of a guy who is in my group—well he got turkeys. I was fortunate to be one of the 20 volunteers (out of about 150 in Baguio) to sit in on this fantastic Christmas dinner.

A couple of days after Christmas we planned to head to Bontoc, further into the mountains, but plans went askew as usual and we hung out and partied in Bagiuo a bit longer. Then Toni and I lucked into a private jeep ride to Bontoc via Sagada with 10 Filipinos passing brandy and songs around. The ride was fun and beautiful, not to mention freezing. At a rest stop I could see my breath in the air. A rare treat. Somehow James and Al the Pal made it up to Bntoc by aother route and the four of s spent a warm evening in Toni’s and my bed playing Yahtzee and eating peanut butter covered cookies without a care in the world.

One night a really weird thing happened when I went out to dinner at a hotel.  We saw an American guy, obviously career military, with his 4 year old son dressed in full miniature army fatigues. Some Filipinas mention how cute the little boy is. The father says , “Hey Sarge, why don’t you show the girls your gun. Come on Sarge, capture the girls with your gun.” So Sarge, the kid, with his back to the girls, pulls out a toy gun, points it backwards over his shoulder and fires at the girls. We hypothesized about Steve capturing girls in another 15 years.

Because it was raining, the others stayed back, but I went hiking in the mountains with  Mike McQuestion, Yonky, and some Filipinos. It was incredibly beautiful and refreshing. I have a picture of Yonky playing his flute as he hiked along. I was so high on the experience, needed no food that day. Its exquisitely beautiful here and I was energized. Stayed up late talking.

 

In the Mt. Province, on the morning of the hike I think, I was invited to attend the funeral of an old lady. The guys were not allowed. It was very intense and meaningful. The other women had taken the deceased older woman and sat her up against what looked like the frame of a tipi. She was tied to the frame by a strap across her mouth, so that odor can’t escape, and another strap across her waist. All her wealth was placed on her head in the form of ancestral beads which will be removed by the family before burial. The only man I saw enter came to bring in food. I was asked to give a gift for her new year and place it in her lap. Then they wanted me to sing her a song but I asked if I could chant with them. That was cool with them so I rocked and chanted with them, as they would do all day). To me it was quite dramatic. At 3 p.m. she is buried in her backyard in a hollowed out short log so that she is returned to the fetal position. Pretty spectacular.

The following day, Toni and I ran around town early, shopping at the weaving school, going to the museum, and wandering. I ordered a woven guitar strap for for my sister, with her name to be woven in, from the Bontoc Weavers Cooperative of the Mt. Province. The people are pretty good weavers. We lucked into a private bus ride home at 5 p.m. I was scared shitless on the windy, dark, foggy, unpaved, narrow, mountain roads. When you looked out the bus window, you could could down the mountainside, but not the road because the side of the bus was past the edge of the narrow road. Steve, the ex-Peace Corps Volunteer on his way home from Korea, kept me entertained with his humor. We arrived in Baguio at 1 a.m.  and I crawled in bed with Toni at the Vallejo Hotel. Early morning after a cold shower I met Patty with a gigantic happy hug. She’s looking great. Spent the day with Patty and her boyfriend, then rode with Dan and Toni back to Manila at 3 p.m. arriving at the Interboard Guesthouse at 11 p.m exhausted.

On New Yars Eve day, I went to Jaws with Dan, Neal, and Toni and to an early afternoon New Years Party in Quezon City. Finally, high as could be, about 8 of us went to dinner then bought balloons and noisemakers and acted crazy, roaming Luneta Park and bringing in the New Year with traditional excitement.

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Becoming Global

One Sunday I was snorkeling, mesmerized by the beauty of the underwater life, not noticing that I’d drifted far from Brother Roy’s boat and the spearfishing guys. I wasn’t afraid, but it was my second consecutive day on the water and I sensed that I was getting badly sunburned and needed cover. I noticed a nearby boat, much larger than our tiny vessel. I swum over and asked for help. The three visiting Israeli agricultural development workers welcomed me aboard and gave me a shirt or towel to cover my shoulders. Not surprisingly, they were happy to help a young woman in a bathing suit. It was the governor’s boat I believe. We quickly became friends. One of the three men had grown up on a Kibbutz, one in Germany (arriving in Israel in escape from the holocaust), and the third was born in Jerusalem and now has a farm outside of Tel Aviv. They were really interesting. The next week I came in to San Jose to attend a seminar they were holding about Israeli agriculture. I sat between Joseph and Itzak who narrated, held my hands, and were generally warm and interesting. The seminar was followed by a small party and dinner at the Governor’s home. Itzak begged me to spend the night. I declined but accepted a future tour of Israel on my way home. They absolutely begged me to come to let them give me a cook’s tour of Israel. I certainly had nterest in seeing a society where women are soldiers and can be President. We exchanged addresses and phone numbers. They energized me. That night I stayed over in San Jose and slept at the Dutch Volunteers’ house. I’m making such an array of friends here.

Strangers telling stories
holding hands walking
arm-in-arm by trios
sharing nations,  sharing lifetimes
giving selves of vivid memories
bursting in uniqueness unimagined
never stagnant never knowing
who will pass that way tomorrow
when the strangers are departed
to another passing—moment

When I arrived back home the next day, I had visitors, three high school girls were waiting at my place and wanted to borrow books. It is hard to find reading material in Bugasong. The following day there was a young man from Australia and one from the states who’d been dropped at my house. It seems that they had missed the last transportation out of town. I never saw unexpected white guys in my town. Townspeople probably thought they were Peace Corps Volunteers. I let them stay (Mrs. Condez was still sleeping at my house so it would be okay). In the morning I took them to the bus stop at 9 a.m. They left me apples. Yum! and a Chocolate Bar!! Later, Linda de Guija and a friend dropped in to visit. Mrs. Condez came by again too. I always seem to have visitors.

In town I spend a lot of time with friends, especially work colleagues and my two families. I spent a morning at Nene Flor’s house sewing on my batik dress. Her husband killed a chicken for lunch and also gave me a really fine native hat for a Christmas gift. They’re fun people. Stopped at Rivero’s to get my blouse from Manang Pasing and was invited to dinner with ice cream for Doctora’s birthday.  I also had the Condez kids over for snacks and singing before Christmas.

I’ve had letters from Clark in Africa (he’s in the Peace Corps in Nairobi), Janice in Germany, and KB in Scotland, among others. My world is growing.

i’ve shared so many conversations
and pieces of me given to you
in my imagination
miles away I write my poetry
telling who I am
when we meet in smiles,
exhuberance and conversations
my corner in your mind
remains unempty

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Nutrition Fair Plans

Wednesday morning we had our Municipal Nutrition Committee meeting with all barrio captains to plan  more about the Nutrition Fair, now scheduled for January to accompany fiesta. It should be a lot like a county fair on a small scale with a parade and program and all sorts of contests. We’ll have toilets installed in our market place in this way because there will be a pit digging contest. We’ll use pits (6’ X 4’ X 4’) for water seal toilets which are both sanitary and odor free. The winning team will win a water seal toilet for their house. Well, that’s just an idea of what will be taking place. And the school children are preparing booths, posters, and skits. The agencies are preparing booths as well (e.g., bureaus of plant industry, of animal industry, of agricultural extension; departments of social welfare, of health, of education and culture, of agrarian reform.) It’ll serve an educational purpose and nudge the people to get organized and working together—all the agencies, schools, churches, and municipal officials. It could be fun. It’s Jan 16-18, the same as my birthday and also the town fiesta.

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