On the fifth morning we flew southward to Cebu City, second largest city in the Philippines, leaving Manila and Luzon island far behind. Cebu City is considerably smaller than Manila, yet the narrow overcrowded streets filled with strange multicolored jeepneys and buses appeared initially confusing, convincing me that here, as in Manila, I would never be at ease or able to find my way about.

I was relieved that our training site was 45 minutes outside the city in barrio Pakna-an. Every town in the Philippines is divided into small, local communities called “barrios” away from the town center or “poblacion” with its town hall, churches, schools, plaza, and market place. Barrios often have one elementary school and several small “sari sari” (“a little bit of everything”) stores which sell beer, soft drinks, Tide, and various other necessities. Our training site, in the center of Pakna-an, was constantly criss-crossed by women fetching water or seeking laundry orders, barefoot children at play, or people who came simply to stare. We were “Joes”, an expression derived from “G.I.Joes” during World War II. I laughed and responded “Hi Phil” until, over the months, the appellation grew old (or I lost my sense of humor).

After months of living in Volkswagon vans, cherry orchards, tube tents, greyhound buses, suitcases, backpacks and hotels, I was anxious to settle into the one room cabin with its outdoor cold-water shower and “water seal” toilet (flushed by tossing a bucket of water down). My roommate, Patty, was a short, energetic, curly-haired blonde with the most compelling round cheeks when she laughed or smiled. Like myself, she was a back-packer and general admirer of simple living and the great outdoors. From the first I enjoyed her honest, open manner. The cabin looked out on grapevines and was surrounded by Bougainvillea bushes with bright fuscia-colored flowers. A few yards from the rear window was the bamboo stilted house of a local family.  The bare-assed children at the screen door quickly learned our names—“Marilyn” and Fatty”. The Filipinos, much to Patty’s distress or amusement, have no “P” in their language. This peaceful arrangement was disrupted later by the addition of a third occupant, a tall buxomly, immodest, loud woman named Sioux (pronounced “Sue”). Loud and disorganized, she kept things in a constant state of chaos and uncleanliness. Washing her feet in the tiny sink, she broke it off the wall. She was nevertheless engaging and we welcomed her vivacity. Frustrated and often times depressed, she constantly reiterated her intention to quit and return to Indiana. She proved true to her word, being the first to leave, after only three months. In the meantime, she was a lively, welcome addition to our cabin, especially over the lonely Christmas holidays.

Somewhere along the line the whole affair took on a “party” atmosphere. San Francisco had been a Bon Voyage Party, Manila had been a Swearing-In Party, in Pakna-an was our First-Day-at the Beach Party followed by a pre-arranged Welcome Party. Veteran volunteers attended these functions with all their cynical advice about this “two year vacation”. The mood settled in irreversibly, consequently training was never a solemn undertaking and we remained vigilantly skeptical. The sunburns and sun stroke of that first Sunday at the beach subdued some of us temporarily, but the feeling of a carefree spring vacation would never leave the training site. It was as if we all wanted to experience everything possible with the knowledge that this time of companionship and celebrating would be brief—something unknown, and a little frightening lay ahead. Once again we would soon have to prove ourselves. For the time being, we would enjoy ourselves fully.