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Archive for the ‘Connecting to the Philippines’ Category

A long time ago (or so it seems), during the period when K and I were still sustaining our LDR (long distance relationship) through Skype, I paused to get some juice out of my refrigerator. As I would usually drink mine straight out of the box (one of the great pleasures of living alone), K asked me what kind of juice it was. I nonchalantly replied, “guava”. His next question was something I never expected… “What is that??”

I had never imagined that somebody in the world would not know what “guava” was.

And then came…

Batad Rice Terraces, November 2009.

We met an Italian and a Frenchman there. That day, I decided to start my “guava” foreigner survey: “Do you know what a guava is?”

They both answered: “No.”

I was shocked then and sometimes, I still get shocked now. Today, I will write about Common Unknown Fruits that I had introduced to K (through Google this time, not Skype) many moons ago.

First up, Guava ofcourse!

Guava

This fruit is very tempting to eat, especially when ripe…just watch out for the worms! They possess the uncanny ability to blend right in. Yum! Yum!

Another version of the guava is what my cousins and I call the “Guapol” (Guava apple). Don’t ask me why we call it Gaupol. Beats me…

Guapol

Atis or in English, it is known as “sugar apple”. I like this fruit. It is soft (even the shell) and is generally sweet but you just have to be careful with the seeds. If you swallow it, legend says the branches grow out of your ears and nostrils.

Atis

Cacao. This fruit is what they use when making chocolate (nothing sort of the Belgian kind). It’s the chocolate we use to make “champorado” but that’s another story. Surprisingly though, this fruit is one that I find sweet and delectable. It can smell like chocolate but it definitely doesn’t taste anywhere near it. 🙂

Cacao

Durian. As this fruit is quite heavy (not to mention, spiney!), I cannot imagine being in its way as it falls from a tree. Although I have never heard of such incidents happening, we most certainly don’t want to be the first!

This fruit tastes like heaven, but smells like hell. I remember being on plane from Davao to Manila and it just reeked of durian. Though I don’t mind the smell of this fruit but too much can be really overwhelming. Blech! *shudder*

Durian

Jackfruit. Much bigger than durian but more pleasant in smell, the jackfruit’s fruit can be sticky on the hands. Still sweet like most tropical fruits, its crunchy meat is surprisingly something I do not go out of the way to eat. Just wash your hands well after eating as the smell can stick to your fingers.

Jackfruit

Galangan” as we call it in my dialect, or “Balimbing” as it is more popularly known. Poor guy. For the latter, I have no idea why it is named as such as in our language, “balimbing” means someone who swings both ways (not gender wise but takes both sides).

This fruit is usually sour and thus, better dipped in some soy sauce with vinegar and salt or eaten with salt as a stand alone. We don’t usually find these in markets but I can eat a lot of this from the short tree at my grandfather’s place.

Galangan

Iba, or more commonly known as “Kamias”.

It has been a loooooong time since I have eaten this fruit. We really don’t eat it much as it is so sour it’ll make your face look like the Grinch’s. But sometimes my aunts make it into jam and it becomes quite yummy.

Iba or Kamias

Lanzones. A summer fruit with opaque insides, together with most of the rest, when choosing this fruit, one must note that the more black ants on the fruit stand the better. It means that it is much sweeter if that is the case. Just be careful with the small seeds in the middle as those can be quite bitter.

Lanzones

Lomboy. This appears to be berries on really tall trees. Best eaten with salt, this fruit is not the sweetest (more of an acquired taste actually) and makes your mouth purple. Old people dry up their leaves and make it into filter-less cigarettes. *cough*cough*

Lomboy

Mangosteen. Admittedly, I haven’t eaten a lot of this fruit as it may either be quite rare or my family is just not so fond of it. But it tastes and looks more like the star apple (or vice-versa) of which I’m more familiar with.

Mangosteen

Manzanitas. Now THIS is one of my favorites. But it is quite small, like half of my thumb, but ofcourse it doesn’t taste at all like the half of my thumb (come to think of it, I will never know really!). It is always sweet when it’s ripe and it comes in reds, oranges, and yellow-oranges. When I was little I loved climbing up the manzanitas tree. I just had to keep a close lookout for the “til-as” or hairy caterpillars. Itchy!!

Manzanitas

Rambutan. This tastes like lychees actually and I am very fond of lychees–in cans! Hehe This fruit is quite sweet but the reason why I don’t like eating it is that the flesh gets in between my teeth and that makes it very annoying for me, especially when the outer covering of the seed sticks to the flesh after you bite it off. Arrrrgh!

Rambutan

Santol. Fibrous but still sweet. You have to be a really good climber to get fruits from this tree. I wonder how our parents managed to allow us to climb up those trees. Or did they even know about it? Hehe

Santol

Sineguelas. Usually sold in plastic bags during the summer, I used to eat this as if I were eating junkfood. Sweet, crunchy and even great when overripe, this is one of the fruits that I truly miss eating.

Sineguelas

Star Apple. I dunno why this fruit is called as such as it is not shaped like a star and moreover, it has no semblance to the taste of an apple. Hmmm…

My grandfather has a large, old starapple tree at his house and people who have a “3rd eye” say that there is an enchanted castle far bigger than the tree on it. On a less freaky note, the fruit is fibrous and sweet and meaty. I like it but I don’t love it. It’s not really something I would go out of my way to eat. No offense to the “little people”.

Starapple

Tambis. When I was a kid, I used to climb this tree the moment we arrived at my grandfather’s house. I got to know most of these fruits through my grandfather’s trees. Tambis is also crunchy and best eaten with salt or vinegar. My cousins and I loved vinegar with lots and lots of chili.

Tambis

Chicos. It’s supposed to be Chico for singular but I dunno why we’ve always called it “Chicos” (but definitely Tambis is for both singular and plural). I love this fruit: It is soft, sweet, and oh so satisfying!

Chicos

Guyabano. Hmmm…the best juice flavor for me (alongside guava). I’m not that fond of this fruit that looks like a cross between a durian and a jackfruit, but turned to juice, it is impossible for me to resist it!

Guyabano

All these fruits that I grew up with, are those I never imagined that K has never gotten acquainted with before we met. Guava. Seriously, Guava?? It’s one of the most ordinary and common fruits! It’s so ordinary, they don’t even sell it often at the marketplace really. We don’t even consider exporting it!

Funny. But then again, I’ve never eaten a peach that wasn’t in a can either…until I first came here.

Though I still prefer the canned ones… *wink*

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I don’t deny it. Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC) is my favorite fastfood in the whole wide world. For an environmentalist that is quite disgraceful, I know. But as everybody is entitled to their own simple pleasures in life, these 3 letters have just always been one of mine—K.F.C.

The other weekend, after long months of searching, I finally got a taste of good old Kentucky Fried Chicken—or so I had hoped.

Ever since I was a kid, I have had only good memories of KFC. Having grown up in Los Baños, a town that was not yet invaded by fastfood chains the likes of KFC, eating their chicken became quite a treat. Being the first child and the center of my parents’ universe at that time, during some weekends, I remember the three of us would go to Manila for just a day, shop at Harisson Plaza, and come back home with one big bucket of KFC, lots of gravy and extra coleslaw! Things couldn’t have gotten any better than that.

When we moved to Dumaguete there was, yet again, no KFC yet. But my family and I survived. Cebu City, an island approximately 3 hours away, had KFC.

Fast forward. In my mid-twenties and 3 siblings later, I decided to go and work in Manila.

The first time I went back home to visit, I remember going to a KFC branch close to my apartment the night before (at that time, I finally lived in a place where there was a great abundance of KFC. Hmmm…come to think about it, that may have just been the subconscious reason why I moved to Manila in the first place. Hehe) and ordered one bucket of KFC: 6 original and 6 hot and spicy with extra gravy, and a large coleslaw.

In the cab on the way to the airport the next day, I held that bucket with pride. On board the plane, I put my bucket of KFC on the luggage compartment with dignity. All that time, I knew the effort was all worth it and besides, it wasn’t a can of Rebisco cookies anyway, was what I told myself. I was bringing with me the three key ingredients to happiness = chicken + gravy + coleslaw.

When I got home, the look on my siblings faces reminded me of how I felt when my papa would come home from a trip to Manila, bringing with him a bucket of KFC. I felt happy.

Before I moved to Belgium, not having a KFC branch was one of my main concerns (that and the absence of “Ivory” brand soap—mind you, these issues at that time seemed to be a matter of utmost importance. hehe). It ended up getting so bad that I joined the “Bring KFC to Belgium” group on Facebook. Really pathetic. Friends started suggesting places that had KFC. These places mostly ended up being a country or two away…so you get the picture.

Finally, our American friend, S, mentioned that there was a KFC somewhere in Lille. Lille is on the border of France, approximately 45mins away. One late afternoon, K proposed all of a sudden to pay Lille a visit with a knowing look on his face. Without any hesitation, I flat ironed my hair, put on some make-up and perfume, wore a nice outfit and got this close to jumping up and clicking my heels with delight. It was the moment I had been waiting for.

Either K was a very good sport or he was just subconsciously pressured into doing so, he ended up unexpectedly changing into a long-sleeved polo shirt, black jeans, and dress shoes for our most awaited and long overdue KFC dinner date. I admit, I don’t normally dress up to have dinner (more so at KFC?!@#%) but this was a momentous occasion for me. After months of being KFC deprived, I forgot that I didn’t speak French and wanted to look special when ordering my hot and spicy, extra crispy chicken, gravy, and coleslaw with Mountain Dew, if they had that in France.

So we started on our journey to happiness. We were off to Lille! I was so excited that not even the cold could freeze my spirits.

When we arrived at Lille I grew very anxious waiting for our trusty GPS (we call her “Sophie” for no particular reason) to bring us to THE place. Finally, there she was. Nestled in a corner of what seemed to be the highway….waiting for me all this time, calling out to me…there was my KFC outlet.

I couldn’t wait to get out of the car. I was giddy with excitement. At the entrance I even wanted to have my picture taken! But alas, in all the preparations, we had unfortunately forgotten our camera—again!! Besides, K already started giving me “the look” so I decided not to push him to take my picture using his phone. Hehe

While we were waiting for our turn, I searched the menu over and over again until it finally dawned upon me: Oh my gosh! There was no rice!!!

How can I eat KFC without rice?!?! Stupid me! I should have brought a Tupperware of rice with me! I should’ve known! But it’s okay, Jacki. The important thing is the yummy chicken, dipped in gravy, together with their heavenly coleslaw, isn’t it? Yes, Jacki. That’s what is important. You can live without rice for one meal.

Finally, it was our turn and having gotten over my earlier disappointment, I eagerly told K what my order was so he could translate it to the waitress.

“Bizwa fushwa boozhoo wee zhoo”, was what I deciphered from the lady behind the counter.

K asked me, “What type of gravy do you want?”

I said, “Ummm…there is only one type of gravy in KFC. I want THE KFC gravy.”

Then K spoke to the girl again. While this was transpiring, a weird, sickening feeling started to creep up inside me.

K turned to me again, “She says they only have sauces. She doesn’t know what gravy is.”

I almost turned pale, “Gravy, you know, it’s brown. I mean…it’s gravy!”

I finally realized that they just didn’t have any gravy. Never had and maybe never will have.

My heart sank.

I grudgingly said, it’s okay. I’ll just have coleslaw then.

K spoke to the girl.

Again the, “Bwoozhoo zhini amtwoh zhizu.”

“They don’t have coleslaw either.”, K told me hesistantly.

I wanted to cry. So much for happiness. I just started staring off into space and didn’t even mind that they didn’t have any Mountain Dew. Well at least they had chicken, right? Ugh, no wonder KFC Stockholm went bankrupt.

The first couple of pieces of crispy chicken wings were eaten in stunned silence. They became a vague memory. Suddenly, something just clicked inside me (no, it wasn’t one of the loose screws). I realized that I should still be happy. There I was sitting inside KFC in a small town in France, eating my favorite chicken in the whole wide world, with the man I love, who drove all the way to another country–literally, just to cater to my craving. There was a lot to be happy about and our KFC experience just made up another wonderful memory to add to my own.

I have vowed to simply wait until I come home to my country to eat KFC. After all, I have lived without it before, I just have to live without it again.

Although I will never go back to Lille for KFC, the experience just reminded me again that in life, it doesn’t really take much to be happy–it shouldn’t. For me, it can be something as simple as a set menu from KFC.

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Sa araw na ito, susubukan kong magsulat sa aking sariling wika; ang wika ng aking bansa. Baka sa susunod Bisaya naman ang gagamitin ko. Wag ka nalang magtangkang basahin ito at sasakit lang siguro ang ulo mo…alam ko na ang akin ay nagsisimula na. ;P

Ano ang dahilan at naisip kong gawin ito? Sa pagdayo ko sa bansang ito, dito lang ako napaisip: Gaano ba talaga ako ka-Pilipino? Sa paaralan ko ngayon sinasabihan ako ng aking mga klasmeyt na taga Estados Unidos na sobrang Amerikano ang aking pananalita pati na ang mga kwento ko tungkol sa aking mga pinagdaanan sa aking paaralan noon, Silliman. Complemento man ito sa iba, sa aking hindi. Mukhang hinding-hindi ko maatim na mapagsabihan ako ng ganun kasi ako ay Pilipino na may sariling pagkatao pagkatapos sabihan lang nila ako na ang aking mga gawi ay para lang dayuhan..?

Pero di ko naman masisisi na ganoon ang kanilang masabi kasi di hamak na totoo naman. Tulad ngayon, sobrang nahihirapan akong magsulat ng Tagalog kahit na halos 1/3 ng aking buhay Tagalog ang wika na aking ginamit. Kinailangan ko pang magbukas ng dictionaryo para lang makatulong sa aking pagsusulat…AT alam ko na sa aking huling talata sigurado ako na dudugo na talaga ang ilong ko. Kaya patawarin nyo lang ako at ito na siguro ang pinakauna ang pinakahuling sanaysay ko sa Pilipino dahil sobrang hirap talaga.

Subali’t hindi. Hindi ako papayag na ako ay matawag na may gawing kano. Ayoko…Ayoko! Alam ko higit kwarentang taon sila dito pero…ako ay Pilipino, ang dugo’y maharlika. Likas sa aking puso, adhikaing kay ganda… ;P Pero di nga, sinasabi ko ngayon na kahit anong mangyari hinding-hindi ko bibitawan ang aking kulturang napagsanayan…yung kulturang pinoy. Gagamit pa rin ako ng kutsara’t tinidor pagkumakain at hindi tinidor’t kutsilyo. Hahanap at hahanap parin ako ng bigas na aking maisasaing kasama ng piniritong isda, adobo, afritada, o kung anumang maisip kong lutuin dahil alam kong hinding-hindi ko makakasanayan ang kumain ng sabaw lang at mahabang pandesal na may palaman na karneng hilaw at keso. Sa aking pinanggalingan yan ay hamak lang na merienda at hindi panghapunan. Ako ay patuloy na tatawa ng malakas pag mayroong nakakatuwa kasi ganyan ako at ganyan dapat ang mabuhay.

Ikanga sa isang palathala: “Magpakatotoo ka.”

Wala na siguro akong magagawa sa aking pananalita o sa aking mga pinagdaanan. Sa ngayon, ang alam ko lang, na kahit na anong mangyari, kahit na ano pang sabihin ng ibang tao tungkol sa aking bansa at mga kababayan, mahal ko pa rin ang aking bansa…at hindi ko makakalimutan ang aking pinanggalingan.

Whew! Aalam kong mukhang walang sense yung mga pinagsusulat ko kaya patawad. Ang puso naman ang masmahalaga, di ba? :

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Turning 30

Last week, I went to visit a friend from London who is originally from Taiwan. Her 13 year old daughter didn’t have any classes that week so she joined in on the “Girls’ Afternooon”.

In our many interesting conversations, her daughter had her fair share. In one instance, she exclaimed, “Oh my god! When we moved here to Belgium I couldn’t believe that I saw a blackboard in my new school! I mean, hello?? Who uses blackboards these days?”

Me: “Ummm…well, we do. As far as I know, we still use it back home. I mean, in my time, we used it and I don’t think I’m THAT old. What did you use in London?”

Daughter, “A smartboard.”, she said matter-of-factly.

I just had a blank look on my face. And for a moment, it took me back to the time when my bestfriend mentioned that she wanted to own a KINDLE and my first thought was, “What is a kindle?”.

Turning 30.

The first time I realized I was getting “old” was more than a decade ago, back when I was still in college. I was watching MTV Classics and all of a sudden I saw “Come As You Are” by Nirvana being played. I couldn’t believe my eyes (and ears)! It was just Nirvana! It wasn’t Michael Jackson, or Cyndi Lauper, or Boy George… You know, those 80’s groups. It was Nirvana!?@#%

And then it dawned upon me — Nirvana began in the late 80s and “Nevermind” was the first cassette tape that I had proudly bought with my own money. They were supposed to be on MTV classics and I was getting old-ER. =)

Turning 30.

A lot of things have happened in my life. Some good, some bad, some wonderful, some terrible, some vague, and some I know will just stick with me for the rest of my life–or until I get amnesia.

I joined this social travelling organization a couple of days ago (www.couchsurfing.org) and one of the questions that I had to fill out was: What is one amazing thing you’ve seen/done?

Immediately, I began to write about diving and seeing sea turtles (awesome!) and mountain climbing with amazing views… For the most part of my life, sports have played a very essential role. I have never considered myself athletic but for some reason, I just like sports and I just want to be good at what I do. I HAVE to be–the competitive nature in me, but the thing is, I more often than not compete against myself. Ofcourse, I can be picky. I don’t like sissy sports but I will not expound on what I find to be sissy sports as I do not want to offend anyone in this essay. Sports have always made me feel alive and free and content. It gives me a natural high. But the sport that will always hold a special place in my heart is football.

Football. The greatest sport in the world. But as time passes, other sports have squeezed their way into my heart. Through the years, some sports that I have engaged in and have actually liked and have committed to are:

1. Football (since highschool) and Futsal (since college)
2. Swimming (since grade school)
3. Rollerblading (since highschool)
4. Skimboarding (post college)
5. Surfing (post college)
6. Adventure racing (post college), though I never really did enjoy biking for the sole reason that it made my thighs too big. Hey, I am still entitled to vanity.
7. Mountaineering (since college)
8. Wall & Rock climbing (since college)
9. Bouldering (just recently)
10. Ultimate Frisbee (since college)
11. Kayaking (since college)
12. Longboarding (since 2 years ago but it was just for a couple of times and I loved it =)
13. Snowboarding (just recently)
14. Scuba Diving (since 2 years ago)
15. English Boxing (for a year now)

And I will stop at 15 because admittedly, I can be a bit obsessive compulsive and right now, if it’s not multiples of 5 then it’ll make me feel strange. Freaky, I know.

So I wanted to write about my amazing experiences (even if the question stated to just give one [1]) and I did start to… but suddenly, I was struck by a single flashback. Something that I experienced a long time ago and it was one of the most ordinary of experiences but for some reason, it felt so extraordinary to me. And so I wrote about it and I will also share it with you…

ONE AMAZING THING I’VE SEEN/DONE

One afternoon I was skimboarding on a long stretch of beach back home. I was happy to have had the beach all to myself. Finally, dusk started settling in and the sky just burst into mesmerizing hues of pink, purple, orange, red, and blue.

I laid down on the shore with my board and just admired the awesomeness of it all.

Suddenly, I saw fireworks at a distance near the mountains. Fireworks have always amazed me, just like bubbles, rainbows, sunrises and moonrises; the simple yet beautiful things in life.

And at that moment, by myself and with silence only broken by the lapping of the gentle waves on the shore, I knew I was happy…that life was good and that I have been doing what I loved doing.

For some reason, that moment just stuck with me. For some reason, for me that moment was amazing…

Turning 30.

I have always felt that life is too short and there are just so many things that I want to do. Too many sports that I still want to try. Too many things that I still need to learn. Too many books that I still want to read. Too many stuff that I still want to Google. Too many stories that I still want to write. Too many places that I still want to visit. Too many people that I still want to help. Too many families that are still suffering from poverty. Too many animals facing extinction. Too many individuals not caring about the environment. Too many friends and relatives that I haven’t given enough hugs and attention to. Too many moments in my brothers’ and sister’s lives that I miss. Too many conversations that I still haven’t had with my mama and my papa. Too many memories that I still want to share with my partner. Too many… TOO many.

Turning 30? I can only hope that I will still live twice as long to be able to do even half of the things that I still want to do (not to mention have the energy for it!).

Turning 30. Life gets shorter when you turn 30…

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Yesterday my post office nightmare came to an end. After 7 months, I can finally sleep soundly at night.

7 months earlier…

7 months ago was my birthday. Being in a long distance relationship has never been easy (nor cheap) but K and I have tried to make the most out of it. I had wanted to celebrate the day of my birth with him but since he couldn’t come over yet, he sent me a great present and wrote me a wonderful note instead.

The present was (can I write about it?? Hehe) a personalized “pull” (in Filipino: “sweater” ra diay) with a fabulous drawing (since K is quite a talented artist) and a pair of boxing gloves, to name a few. I was so excited to receive it (as I had begun to get hooked to boxing at that time) and when I got the notice from the post office I immediately went there to claim it.

Long story short, they asked me to pay a P3,500 tax for my BIRTHDAY PRESENT (half the price of the present) and so in not so ladylike terms I sorta told them to take a long walk over a short pier, dive headfirst, and never resurface. They didn’t even allow me to read the “birthday card” inside! Grrrr…

That marked the end of my post office days—or so I thought. A month after I asked them to send it back, the package still had not reached the sender. So I had to take a trip to the post all over again—this after having consulted 3 lawyer friends of mine. Seriously.

In the end, they told me they had sent it on January 12 and that I should just wait for it. They even showed me their books indicating such.

And so we waited…and waited…K came over to the PH to spend the holidays…he came back to BE…we waited some more…and waited still…I packed my bags and moved to Belgium and we waited again… winter went, spring came, and summer is almost here…well, I guess you get the picture.

But alas! The other day we got a note from the post informing us that an international package was waiting for us. More specifically, a return to sender package. We really hoped for the best and expected the worst. I will not begin to narrate the horror postal stories my trainees had shared with me.

I was finally able to open my present yesterday. Amazingly, everything was there (what a disappointment! ;). Now I hold the hopes of so many others who have been waiting for their mail (e.g. K’s aunt who sent a parcel to Mexico from Belgium in 2007). That package give people like me hope…and so much more. There is a God.

From now on we really ought to take the term SNAIL MAIL to heart.

Thank you post office. You didn’t fail me after all. ;P

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As I was walking towards town to meet up with K for lunch today after school (hmmm…come to think of it, it was more like limping actually due to my newly sprained ankle which I acquired while playing football the other day) I saw two naturally brown-skinned girls walking in front of me. On instinct, I tried to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Normally, I pride myself on having good “gay-dar” but apparently, it only works for sniffing out gay people. In distinguishing a Filipino from a Malaysian, Indonesian, or Thai, I find myself to be quite incapacitated. As I was eavesdropping, I heard the word “tayo” which means “us” in Tagalog, our national language. I eagerly listened some more. *wink*

The other day, during drinks after Ultimate training I asked my teammates what the national language in Belgium is. They said it was Dutch, French, and German. In a country with over 170 languages but only one national language, which is Filipino, it is a bit hard for me to comprehend that this country has 3 national languages. Although we have 2 official languages which are Filipino and English (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Languages_of_the_Philippines).

So anyway, the two were walking and apparently, I ended up limping faster than they were walking coz I was able to catch up with them. We ended up walking side by side, which I found rather weird. The girl to the far right looked at me and smiled. I smiled back. The other girl was busy talking about this girl she didn’t like and I immediately detected the distinct Visayan accent speaking in Tagalog.

Without hesitating, I asked the two of them, “Magkaklase kayo?” (Are you two classmates?)—as they were speaking in Tagalog. The girl to the right replied, “Hindi, ako level one pa lang siya level 2 na. Ikaw?” (No, I’m still in level one and she’s already in level 2, and you?)

I told her I was in level 2.

Her next reaction startled me a bit: “Eh bago ka pa lang dito diba? Level 2 kana pala!” (But you’re still new here and you’re already in level two!)

I just stretched my lips apart in an attempt to show my teeth and fake a smile all the while thinking, “Umm…Have we met before? Do I know you?? How do you know that I’m still new here???”. Then I had all these weird thoughts racing through my head…Do they have a Filipino internal database here that I don’t know of? A has never mentioned that to me. How could this girl have known??

It was a bit creepy. Yeah, Filipinos are naturally friendly but how in the world…?? To distract myself I just asked the other girl in my dialect this time, “Taga asa ka?” (Where are you from?)

“Cebu”, she replied, “Ikaw?”. I smiled and said, “Dumaguete”.

“Ah, kabalo diay ka mu-Cebuano!” (Oh! So you know how to speak Cebuano!)

Me (mentally): Duh?? (see above dialogue)

But like I always tell K, Filipinos are everywhere in the world. I wouldn’t even be surprised if I go to Antarctica and meet one. We are just EVERYWHERE.

So well, when we reached the crossing we said our casual goodbyes and parted ways. I bet they will immediately update their database when they get to their headquarters:

Name: Jacki 00678121
Classification: Level 2–Het Perspectief
Location: Gent, Belgium
Origin: Negros Oriental, Philippines

Wrong move, Jacki. Wrong move.

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