We moved into our apartments today and I am so relieved to finally have my own space that I nearly cried. I could not stop grinning when I saw that I landed the only – yes, read ONLY – single bedroom with a queen sized bed and tv. I have my own closet space, nice clean floors, and pretty, colorful decorations on the wall.

Our first accomodations during orientation at UP were okay. We had enough space to survive, but we were in tight quarters, unable to unpack, and living off of restaurants and fast-ish kind of foods, and snacks stuffed in our bags. Here in our apartments we have our own kitchens, working showers with optional heaters for hot showers, and closets! Without being dramatic, I nearly squealed when I walked into our apartment. Finally, my suitcases are put away, my clothes are hung and I cooked for my roommates. A nice regular dinner – fresh baby corn, peppers, onions, garlic and squash sauteed with olive oil and soy sauce. Nice and light, for a change. My body thanked me.

Yesterday I went running again, trying to get to three miles and found it nearly impossible. There are two reasons why I don’t think I’ll get to my goal here. 1. The heat. I cannot describe the water spigot I have become since I came here. Whenever i wear I backpack, my entire back is drenched in sweat. It’s like I’m wearing a sweater or something if I put a layer of clothing over my skin. Being this close to the equator is just unreal. 2. The pollution. The pollution here makes Los Angeles feel like a walk in the park. My chest actually hurt from the pollution when I ran and by no means am I a fast runner. Some of my friends went running together and no one could make it to their usual pace or mileage. You can FEEL the pollution in the air, it sits on my skin, glued on by the humidity, and fogs my brain with its potency.

We had our first week of classes and my head is spinning with ideas, reflections, and questions. The lectures have been taught by world renouned poets and activists, scholars and sociologists, peasant farmers and professors. I am in intellectual heaven. I truly believe that as one ages, it is critical to keep your mind stimulated with as much rigor as possible. It’s so easy to become consumed with mind-numbing things. (How many nights did I spend watching Tila Tequila on MTV?) I saw yesterday that the PI president, Gloria Arroyo was actually in the US visiting with Bush. Before this blog turns into my political pulpit, I will just say that it is unreal to read the mainstream media’s take on issues and then meet the people themselves and what they are going through. Small examples: the rice crisis, agriculture workers making $0.17/day, a mother of five burst into tears crying when my friend Kim tipped her $12, and starving children in the streets. Arroyo is not popular, not in my book anyway. Note: end pulpit rant.

Onto lighter things flopping around in my head: it’s been a long time since I have been in community, living in community specifically and it is quite an adjustment. The group, as I said before, comprises 9 people aging from 18-35 with 1 male and 8 females. I’ve forgotten that when you eat, sleep next to, travel, attend classes, and live with 8 other people decisions are slower, things take longer, and chaos is never but two feet away.

It’s saying a lot that 1. I’m considered the most decisive and mathematically articulate one in the group 2. I’m handling the money 3. I’m usually one of the fastest walkers 4. I’m annoyed with other people’s indecision

If you know me at all, all four of those statements should be stunning to you as you read them. But, that’s the role I have taken in the program. The group dynamic leaves much need for organization and for me to say that things need to be running more on time, you know it’s getting out of control.

I’m the third oldest in the group and am often called Ate (“ah-teh”) by the younger students in the group. Ate is a word which translates into “older sister,” and is a sign of respect when someone is older than you. So, as Ate Lisa, I have already talked to some of the young ones who are still teenagers about respecting our professors by not falling asleep (which ten years ago, I was the WORST with) and guiding their perspectives by pushing them to delve deeper into the issues and culture here. And I cooked dinner for everyone, too. I’m like a “mom” of the group. I keep things in line, which is a different role for me, but I like it. A lot. It’s needed.

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Magandang umaga po! Good morning!

It’s now 8 hour later. After I wrote the last sentence in the previous paragraph, I laid back to think and fell asleep!

So, now it’s Saturday morning and we’re getting ready for a full day of language classes, weekly reflections and assessment, and tomorrow we are OFF! Last night was the first day in a week that I got seven hours of sleep. Every night I have gotten about five, six maximum. I feel much more rested and less like I’m functioning off of adrenaline. Amazing what an apartment with all the small comforts of home can do!

I survived my first typhoon.

Sunday, my second night in the PI, I awoke to hear random loud noises banging on the roof and the roar of the wind that I have never heard before. It was a typhoon. I found out later from my uncle that the random banging noise was mangos falling from the tree.

I awoke in the morning to find two of my cousins still splashing in the pool in the back. There’s a typhoon. They’re in a pool. I stared at them for a few minutes and discovered, apparently, this is not unusual. I certainly do not want to disrespect their leisure activities, but I wanted to yell, “Dude – there’s a TYPHOON going on. Get out of the pool!”

The typhoon flooded many parts of Manila and surrounding provinces, but the area I am in was fine, except for trees falling, and my first brownout (when all the electricity goes out). I love that they call them brownouts instead of blackouts.

I went to church with my uncle that morning and sat in a big beautiful church. During the petitions the electricity went out and the roar of the wind got even louder. It phased no one. Well, except me. My eyes darted to the open windows and swaying chandeliers. My prayers were fervent.

On Monday, my cousins dropped me off at my dormitory at the University of the Philippines (UP) where I met the other members of the group. It was then I heard that 4 others dropped out at last minute and there was only 9 of us total. Only one is male. Phillipe is on this trip with 8 other women, ages 18-35. It’s quite a mix, but we get along fantastically. Navigating the city and UP is always an adventure.
Our orientation consisted of reviewing our schedules and getting our bearings of the campus. The group teases me incessantly by saying I am too uptight about germs, safety, and cleanliness. I packed up my laptop and camera with me everywhere we go. (Hello, like I would leave my digital SLR anywhere without me?) I don’t drink the ice, tap water, or eat salads in the restaurants. They laugh and say I’m paranoid. I just shake my head when they drink the tap water with ice. If they knew what a parasite in your stomach feels like that won’t leave for 3 days, they wouldn’t be so careless. I went through that seven years ago and some days I believe I have not yet psychologically recovered from how many trips to the bathroom I made in a 3-day span.

I went to Nicaragua for three months in 2000 and returned twice since then. My experiences there are affording me invaluable knowledge and confidence as I navigate a new country with similar economic struggles and political history. The PI is a tropical country with beautiful landscapes and people. Their problems, as I am learning, are complex and interrelated to the US and its policies. Today was our first day of lectures and classes and the intellectual stimulation has been remarkable. The classes are taught by world renowned poets, top professors, and experienced sociologists who keep me writing, thinking, and questioning. I am finding this experience to be as transformative as I had hoped, and it’s only been the first day of class!

Last night, the group went to the Mall of Asia, which is, as you can guess, the largest mall in all of Asia – what creativity went into naming this place! The PI is ironically known for its gigantic malls and commercialization, but I wasn’t ready for the mall of Asia. It was so enormous, there’s no way to describe it over a computer. Inside, I was able to exchange money, 43 pesos for every dollar. As you can imagine, the dollar goes a long way. It took forever to get a taxi, but when we got a driver, it cost $5 for a 15-20 minute drive. There were five of us in the car. My Boston ears couldn’t believe it. I nearly flipped with joy. A ten minute ride in Boston is nearly $30!

UP is a huge campus and we took a tour, by foot, that covered about a quarter of the campus and three hours of our lives. I nearly fell asleep in the grass by the end. The heat is hard to transition, even though it was summer in the US when I left, being this close to the equator is something else. Kris, another member of the group, and I were up at 6am (not unusual when the sun rises so early) and went for a light jog. We weren’t even jogging for 10 minutes when we looked at each other and saw that we were drenched in sweat. Our legs looked like faucets and our arms like brown Slip and Slides. But, it felt good to get some fitness in our day. It’s waaaaay too easy to sit in our air conditioned rooms after eating a wonderful meal for $1.25.

On Friday, we’ll be moving into our apartments, which are a few minutes off campus. There we will have WIFI and a land line. We’re all eager to have regular internet access. Everyone can tell we’re from the US when we ask people where we can set up our laptops to check our emails and blog about our travels.

I am pretty much adjusted to the time change, but not quite yet. I’m sleeping well, but wake up once or twice to itch my bug bites. I wake up relatively early, sometime between 5am-6am. (Nick probably read that sentence twice.) I’m VERY ready to get into my apartment, unpack and have my own permanent space. (Err, permanent means the next 6 weeks). The more I am exposed to, the more I am learning, the more 6 weeks seems so brief. There’s so much beauty and richness to this country and I’m so proud this is my parents’ homeland. And I give myself a pat on my back for having made this pilgrimage myself.

Growing up Filipino in the US, a child of immigration, is an in-depth consuming journey of self-identity. It encompasses constant reflection and self-analysis. It is quite an remarkable experience to be in a country where I look just like everyone else. The reflection of myself in this country is…what’s the right word?….unfathomable. It is the experience I have been waiting for and wanting my entire life: to passionately understand with clarity and awareness, who I am, who my family is, and where I have come from. Few are able to make a journey such as this. Few even ask questions such as this. I feel very graced and blessed to experience this. The questions that I have held, long in my heart, are surfacing each minute I am here.

I am finding myself.

I made it.

I’m in the Philippines. Specifically, I am in the capital city, Manila.

I’ll put this out there right now so you are aware – I’m so jetlagged, I can barely walk straight. But I have found my way to a computer and just wanted to write that I am well, happy, and slowly getting aligned with the time change.

The Philippines is 12 hours ahead of Eastern standard time. As I write this, it’s about 10pm on Saturday evening, so it should be about 10am Saturday morning in the US.

My travels began with a 24 hour traveling period, layovers included. Chicago was a breeze, naturally, but it was the flight to Japan that messed me up pretty bad. I has a window seat and was next to a very friendly young woman who repeatedly asked me to help her with her television screen (we all had our own). I was not much help, particularly when I was engrossed in watching The Other Boelyn Girl (very good movie, by the way).

The only problem is when she fell asleep for six hours and I, unusually, could not fall asleep. She had the aisle seat, so I had to get creative when I wanted to stretch my legs. I practically threw my right leg over the seat in front of me to get my blood flowing. My seat was in the back corner of the plane with no one behind me, so for about an hour, I perched on my knees and did quasi-yoga stretches in my seat. I felt fine until the last two hours of the flight. My feet looked like two basketballs, they swelled so much. I was worried until I saw other flip-flop wearing travelers and discovered other basketballed sized feet next to me.

Arriving in Manila was interesting. Customs was a breeze, but I was worrying about finding my Uncle and cousins. I didn’t worry too much when I was walking slowly down the ramp when I spotted someone looking eagerly at me. I tentatively smiled back and then he screamed, “LISAAAAAA!” I thought that was quite a Factora thing to do, so I trusted that was my cousin George. I was right, he led me to my Uncle, who was waiting with a very air conditioned car. (Nice.)

To say I was nervous would be the understatement of the year. Nearly everyone here in Manila speaks English, but going anywhere unfamiliar is always anxiety provoking and stressful. My family here, most of whom I have just met for the first time, has been more than welcoming and friendly. My Uncle, who runs a construction company, he built his home 30 years ago here in Manila and it is so beautiful. This morning, I sat with my Auntie Ina, and talked government, politics and updated her on the US presidential campaign while I ate fresh mango and listened to the rain. Not many mornings can be that beautiful.

I took two naps today. The first for an hour, the second for four. I never intended to fall asleep, let alone twice, but my body still feels like it’s in Boston, or Cleveland, or wherever time is set on the other side of the world. I’ve woken up in five or six different places in the past two weeks and my brain has been utterly confused in my warped life as of late. I woke up this morning and thought, “Now, where the heck am I? Is Nick already up?”

It’s going to be hard to blog about, aka update you on Nick, when we are apart for these next two months. What I can say is that our goodbye at the airport was awful. I cried like a big baby and could barely control my tear ducts. Such a pitiful sight, the ticketing agent had to pause the line to get me some tissues because I was crying so hard. Oh, I must have looked awesome.

Separation is never fun, but Nick was and is his usual supportive self; always looking on the bright side, encouraging me to remember the reasons why I applied for the program in the first place, and reminding me how temporary the situation is in the big picture of our life together. Our last few days together were spent moving into our new home, where I was able to make memories for about two and a half days before I left. My concept of home is wherever Nick is and I find myself thanking God, repeatedly, for such a supportive and loving partner.

So far, the only small things that have posed problems has been the very loud rooster that runs around the land and occasionally through the house. Not even my earplugs can drown that thing. Holy cow, it’s the loudest thing I’ve ever heard. Also, there is Lucky, one of the few dogs around the house. This thing has got eyes the size of UFOs. He stares at me intently and I try to ignore him, and his smell. I gently kicked him out of the way when my other Auntie was making her way onto the porch in her wheelchair. The kick felt justified because he was in her way. I think the Borchers anti-dog sentiments might have rubbed off on me.

My family here is inquisitive about Nick, my Borchers family, and what my life in the US is like. I’m showing them pictures and explain where everyone is. Sometimes they get so eager to hear my stories, they cut me off and finish my sentence before I’m through. Here’s an example. My cousin Paulo is a lawyer here and works for a firm doing litigation. I share, “My sister in law, Kelly, is a lawyer too – Nick’s sister. She works for the government.” Before I can explain she works in Columbus, Ohio, my other cousins exclaim and tell my Uncle, “Kelly is a lawyer for the District Attorney in Washington, D.C.!”

I try to interject, “Oh, no, she doesn’t work in -“

My Uncle, “Really! D.C?!” He speaks in Tagalog, which means he is impressed.

I give up after a few minutes of their talking about how Kelly works in D.C. Everyone in my family loves talking politics and we move on to the happenings in D.C., where, apparently, Kelly now works.

So, my first day has been quite eventful. Tomorrow, I check-in at the University of the Philippines where I will be staying for the next six weeks of my program. I’m excited to continue to adjust to my new surroundings and even more excited for my body to get with it and adjust to the time change.

Love from Manila!