April! May! Wow!

What a month!

Nearly four weeks ago, I rolled out of Lila on a jeepney bound for Tagbilaran with a suitcase and backpack stuffed to threat of explosion. It was Wednesday afternoon, the day before Muandy Thursday, and I wouldn't be seeing Lila again for some time. I spent Thursday with Kate, shamelessly internetting in our favorite coffee shop before venturing out into the city with the hopes of catching a movie, only to discover that, in true Philippine Holy week fashion, everything was closed. Huh. So we went home to an evening of random fridge snacks and True Blood season 1. The next day Kate left early for Manila, and I did my best to distract myself from a the growing gnaw of nerves spreading out from my stomach. Several hours and many podcasts later, it was finally time. After a very short airplane ride and several games of UNO with my young seat-mates, there I was, landing for the second time ever in Manila, with only a few hours to kill before I would be receiving my first set of visitors from the homeland.

This being near the end of a month that had started with language camp in the wondrous city of Dumaguete, I had managed to render the contents of my PC bank account down to a measly 200 pesos (about 4.60 dollars), so my determination to find the free Marriott shuttle was fierce. Finally, huffing and puffing a bit, there it was, hulking and yellow and entirely empty. A moment later a man rushed up to me, "Miss Kuhn? Miss Kuhn??" he cried. Bewildered, I replied with an entirely eloquent, "Um, yeah?". In my hurry to find the shuttle, I had managed to brush right past this man, holding one of those lovely and coveted signs at the airport where your name is written in Expo marker, the whole thing denoting some kind of purpose and importance. Still bewildered, I was ushered into a waiting town car where a driver introduced himself as Rick and asked if I was comfortable with the temperature. Then silence. But wait, aren't you supposed to ask me now if I'm married and where my boyfriend is and why I don't have a Filipino boyfriend and how I learned Visayan? Where are all the glances in the rear-view mirror and why, oh why sir, are you staying in your lane and driving withing the posted speed limit??! Okay Dad, what are you up to here?

A few minutes later I stumbled out of Rick's perfectly climate-controlled town car and into the shimmering lobby of the Manila Marriott, and, using my very best posture to carry myself to the reception desk, was promptly and politely told that on account of the Gold Member status of the reservation I ought to be checking in up on the 8th floor, where a complementary cocktail hour was currently underway. Upon being ushered to said floor, presented with a key and a glass of wine, and having removed myself to the giant, immaculate room corresponding to the number on my key, I fairly collapsed onto the floor, unable to bring myself to spoil to perfectly stretched bedspread of that appeared to be the size of my living room. It had all happened in a bit of a rush, and I was suddenly aware of a lump in my throat born purely from the overwhelming jolt of it all. Surely, this world could not exist a mere one hour flight from the crowing roosters and burning trash heaps of Bohol. Right?

A couple hours later, Kate and I were at the airport again, and two fair-haired heads were bobbing towards us from inside the international arrivals terminal.

My experience at the Marriott was just a taste of what turned out to be my dad's one-man-mission to make his vacation to the Philippines my vacation from it. From Manila, and Corregidor, we flew down to Bohol and then ferried over to Negors, where we watched the royal wedding from an infinity pool. The next day, in a splendid trip to Apo Island and a sea full of sea turtles and banded sea snakes, I entered my mid-twenties. Just magic. For anyone interested in pure escapism and killer food in Negros, may I recommended Atmosphere. I mean wow.

Back on Bohol, I said goodbye and did nothing to fight back grumpy tears as I watched them pull away in a trike, airport-bound. Then my suitcase and I headed straight for the pier, and I bought the very last ticket to Cebu. Thankfully, and I mean, really thankfully, our two weeks of Peace Corps trainings started the next day, and distractions abounded. I was reunited with my beloved Barkada, and in the familiar session rooms of the Sugarland Hotel in Bacolod, worked closely with my supervisor to put together a project plan for creating a marine sanctuary here in Lila. Then, in a CRM-only training in Sagay City, I got to know my fellow CRM volunteers from other parts of the country a little better, got caught in a wild lightening storm, drank some tap-water (!!) in desperation to stave off a hangover, and learned some incredibly fascinating "coral gardening" techniques that I only wish had application here at site.

Next, browned and salty and happy (but mildly paranoid about amoebas), it was time to leave Sagay for a much-promised return to beloved Zamboanguita for their annual fiesta. Andrea and Mindy and I spent an afternoon visiting with our former host families and reveling in the sense of familiarity that came with it all. Here was a place we had lived for three months during training, where people really seemed to care for us, and most bizarre of all, a place that both felt familiar and homey, and was, gasp, in the Philippines. The sense of returning for a place that we hadn't been for half a year - and having that place be in this country - impressed upon all of us that we're not the newbies here anymore. No, we've been here for a while.

Back in Lila the feeling persists. This just doesn't feel like a foreign country anymore. And in a few days, batch 269 will have been here for 9 months, meaning we're exactly a third though our service.

In the meantime, when are you coming to visit?

Marriott bar

Katers

Snacks, a far cry from that mayo and jell-o sandwich several months ago

A new friend I made at Bee Farm

Tarsier!

Alona Beach, Panglao, Bohol

The very best birthday present

Urchin city

The common Seakristin

The solitary Seaplate

The rare Seawalter

Some of the magic that is Atmosphere

And now on to Volunteers in Environmental Governance (VEG) training:

It's the calm before another storm. (Photo courtesy of Mindy)

The lovely Mindy - taking refuge from the rain

Our charming young guides at the Sagay children's museum

Bucket o' frags

Placing a finished tray - me on the right

Transporting a finished tray

Sabs and I after a long day in the water

Corregidor

Last weekend it was up to Manila to meet my visitors (!!!) and then off to Corregidor Island for a piece of the Philippines' ample WWII history. Corregidor, as many of you know, was a key site in American and Philippine defense of Manila in WWII, due to its strategic location at the entrance to Manila Bay. After the fall of Bataan (of death march infamy) directly North, the allies held out on Corregidor for an incredible and brutal 27 more days. After the island finally did fall, it became the site of General MacArthur's famous and more politely stated version of the famous Terminator catch phrase, "I shall return," (as he snuck off in a submarine in the middle of the night, leaving the rest of his troops there). "But don't hold your breath," my dad adds, looking at the statue of MacArthur waving goodbye. Nearly three years later he did return, recapturing the now battered island, and all the other 7,000+ Philippine islands with it.

Today it is a hot, thickly forested place riddled with both very big guns and bomb craters. And souvenir shops of course.

Kate pointing out Bohol

Japanese cemetery

In Malinta tunnel

Like Smoke

Last weekend, the Boholano-Americans took a little trip to the coastal community of Maribojoc to see where Todd works and visit the nearby town of Antequera and the waterfalls for which it is know.

"Mag-aso", in Cebuano, means "like smoke". The mist rising from the falls is what gives them their smokey name, and they are a great spot for picnicking, swimming, cliff jumping, and spying tiny native frogs.

Hello beautiful

Killing time waiting for a ride

Rice fields in Antequera

New friend!

Someone call the department of environment and natural resources...

The road to Mag-Aso

Mag-Aso Falls

PB&J on whole wheat. Oh yes we did!

Todd's latest care package makes a lunchtime appearance

I spy Jessica and Kate...

Sweet little frog who let me get very, very close to take a picture

After jumping and playing and picnicking, Todd and I explored the river above the falls

In all its jungle beauty

The Swimming Lesson

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.

Well hello there!

Hinundayan

Hooray! Another island to add to the list!

Last weekend I had the wonderful opportunity to visit Southern Leyte on work-related travel. My friend Sarah's site, Hinundayan, is roughly the same size, population, and income level as Lila, but it really couldn't be more different. Though Bohol and Leyte are neighboring islands it actually takes some serious travel time to get there. From Lila, I caught a 5am bus to Ubay on the northeast coast of Bohol, 2.5 hours away. Then a 2.5 hour boat ride on the "Mother Mary" to Bato, Leyte. Then an hour jeepney ride to Sogod (on Sogod Bay, of whale shark and diving fame), and a final 2.5 hour ride to Hinundayan, where around 3pm I spilled off the bus into the arms of two lovely, well-tanned girls - my barkada, reunited at last!

The view out the window of the bus from Sogod

A barkada breakfast: Egg sandwiches and Starbucks VIA

It is easy to find things to be impressed by in Hinundayan. The laid-back, friendly atmosphere, charming plaza, and crash of Pacific waves are among them, but more impressive still is this small town's enthusiasm for CRM. Two fish sanctuaries of staggering size are points of pride, and have management programs to match. Sarah, whose adorable, mosaic-floored nipa hut on the sea added much to my adoration of the place, is clearly in heaven. Her office has welcomed her expertise and boundless energy with open arms, and she has made herself a valuable member of the team.

After a couple CRM-related meetings, which I found remarkably inspiring, we spent a day celebrating Sarah's birthday at a tiny hidden beach reachable only by boat. Tropical paradise, really. We sat there, dripping with salt water, listening to the Pacific crash over tumbling coral stones, drinking fresh coconuts and having a picnic lunch spread out on banana leaves. Typing this out now it seems almost funny - but here these things have become pleasantly commonplace. Almost. After lunch we scrambled a good distance over sharp, jutting igneous rocks (not a single one of us making it there unscathed) to a tall jumping rock, and spent the afternoon flinging ourselves into the perfectly cliched turquoise sea below. A very pleasant day.

Birthday beach

Banana leaf lunch

Happy hikers, if a bit bruised and scraped.

Thaaaar she goes!

Something about the whole nature of Southern Leyte attracted me. It is remote, to be sure, but the terrain is inviting. Everything felt somehow drier there, more spacious and energetic. Where Bohol is home to thick, dripping jungle, Leyte's native vegetation felt to me more like forest. Oddly, mention the word "Leyte" or better yet, "Southern Leyte" to a Filipino on Bohol or Negros, and you're likely to be met by a scowl or expression of concern. Here, Leyte's remoteness is seen as unappealingly rough. When Sarah first heard she was being sent to Leyte, our host families reacted with pity. This wasn't particularly comforting, but now it's just plain confusing. Leyte is lovely. My suspicion is that many Filipinos don't see it that way though because to them, remote and underdeveloped are negative things. The general opinion seems to be Sure, forests and hidden beaches are nice, but they're nicer if they're withing an hour from a Dunkin' Donuts... A perplexing place, this.

Changes

What a week.

It began with travelling to Negros for the first time since training for language camp, encompassed a heavy does of emotional chaos, and ended with a spontaneous trip to Bindoy and two of my best friends' return to America.

One thing about this lifestyle is that even though my fellow PCVs and I spend a good deal of time remarking about the often plodding nature of our days here, when things do change those changes are abrupt and complete.

It was hard to focus on Cebuano with all the other turmoil, and I was glad for the week to be over when it was. Still, the thought of returning to an empty Bohol wasn't entirely appealing either, so Todd, Kate and I headed up to Bindoy with Andrea for the opening events of their town fiesta. I had left my camera on Bohol, but managed to snap a few pictures of carabao (water buffalo) racing, a very bloody cock fight, and other events with Andrea's camera.

It took the better part of a day to get myself back to Lila last Sunday, and on the cramped, after-dark final leg of my journey home I experienced something completely new: the desire to get back to Lila, shake off the week, and resume the plod.

Run buffalo, run!

Climbing a very tall, very greased bamboo pole

The bloody aftermath of a cockfight.

Todd and I climbing a few of the old remaining mangroves on the Bindoy coast. Easier said than done - under the trees their exposed root systems make for hazardous scrambling, especially with waves rolling in.

Thanks for the photos Andrea!

Tucker and the Monster

First off, this is Tucker. He's pretty much the best gecko a girl could ask for. He came free with my new place, and so far he's the only gecko I've seen living here. He differs from the others I've met in that he's very young, walks around on the floor instead of the ceiling, and is just way stinking cute. I find him completely charming.

Then last night, something very strange happened. For the first time in my life, I saw a spider in my living room and felt... fear. I've never been afraid of spiders. I've always been an advocate of catch and release, fully aware about the important role spiders play in the ecosystem, and I've been grateful even for the demosquitoing they do around here. But this one was different. Now I have no idea if this spider was poisonous or not, but one look at it sent chills up my spine and pitched me into sweats. I even whimpered. This spider could have eaten little Tucker for breakfast, and I'm not yet sure that it didn't. The first time I saw a palm-sized spider here in the Philippines I was a little surprised, but they have since become commonplace. However, it seems the a spider the size of an entire hand is the threshold for me. After a lifetime of being a friend to the eight-legged, I hit a wall.

I know there's not much in the way of a reference point in either of these pictures, but I wasn't feeling up to holding a dollar bill up next to it. So you're going to have to trust me.

Chills I say, chills.