Last Saturday I woke early to hike a couple kilometers down the road and meet my supervisor for her first ever swimming lesson. She is 57 years old, though has the energy of a much younger woman, and grew up with what she calls "very protective parents". Her parents completely discouraged going into the sea, what they thought of as a dynamic, dangerous place full of sharks and rip currents. Many Filipinos, even fisherfolk, can't swim, and fear of drowning is a prevalent phobia on the archipelago. When my supervisor asked when I first learned to swim, I told her my first lessons started when I was two months old. She was shocked, but I explained that I also had protective parents, the difference being that my parents thought the ocean - and ubiquitous backyard swimming pools of San Diego - were significantly less dangerous when you at least knew how to float, move, and get out.
This particular swimming lesson was at the behest of my Peace Corps regional manager, because the training sessions my supervisor and I are attending next month include a good deal of field work, and for CRM volunteers, the "field" is the ocean. After an hour in and out of the water, we had her successfully dog paddling and treading water, but her comfort level is still low and she still feels the need to be able to put her foot on something as soon as she needs a rest, resulting in several panicked grabs at my arm before she could take a calm breath. I think arm floaties and a little inner tube might be in order for her to really enjoy the coral gardening lessons next month. We shall see.
Before heading down to the beach she showed me their family rice field (just a small plot of all the land you see behind her) and I took this picture. The field has been recently harvested and replanted with watermelon, still in their infancy. I had a lot of questions, and learned that the field is planted with rice twice a year, which takes 115 days to mature (the watermelon takes 60). With the amount of rice generated from that small plot, the family never has to buy rice, and had enough left over to donate to local students.
She insisted on taking a photo in return, so here I am, in all my6:30am, androgynous glory.
Her husband hard at work, bringing water from the canal to the baby melons.
The post-swim breakfast prepared by the 21 year old daughter. Rice (from the field above), whole fish, pancit, prawns, ginimous, and a fish head leftover from dinner. The bread was brought for the foreigner (me), and the oranges and peanuts were my contribution.
With the family. Note the hight discrepancy that often leaves me with a bumped head and bruised elbows.
An interestingly colored urchin shell, found after some beach exploring.
And my new friend, looking very much like a pebble.
