videoky, cockfighting and mangos. oh my!

the next morning we flew straight to cebu.
fine with me. honestly this was just a trip of 'going with the flow.'
we were not in cebu for too long and we were trying to find a way to get to moalboal (a beach town with good diving and waterfalls). as the boys were bargaining with a car driver...i looked around. ok...i straight up stared.
there was a very dirty little naked boy who didnt even look two years old, he was wondering around, really close to the street. he didnt look like he belonged to anyone. two other small boys were begging us for money. other kids were playing around us...one of them fell and i instinctively went to help him, all the other kids pointed fingers and laughed. he started to cry. and i tried scolding the other kids. ha. and then they started pointing fingers and laughing at me. and then in the middle of the chaos a marching band comes by. a full out marching band, with trumpets and drums. no one really reacted. there are kids trying to sell us water and corn and the sound of roasters is inescapable.
where the hell are we?
as we took the bus to moalboal, you realize we (me and the filipinos) are staring at each other. some of the towns we went to had never had tourist (i dont really like that word). in fact one town we got surrounded. and the police came because they thought there was a riot or something. we were just looking for an ATM. and everyone smiled at us and wanted to give us a ride on their tricycles (and our money of course).
i came for unknown reasons...knowing that it would be an experience none the less.
philippines is a place i will never forget. and although all these 'experiences' may change me and may be 'enlightening'...there are times during my trip when i get this fear and agitation that my traveling has become trivial. and nothing seems more important than being home. not because of the shallow comforts that i have done nothing to deserve. not because of a warm shower or clean water. not because i want to sleep in my own bed. but because this is where the people i love that most are. and i wouldnt really consider it 'home sick.' more of a calling. a calling to to go. and a calling to come back.

meet me in manila

culture shock: n. A condition of confusion and anxiety affecting a person suddenly exposed to an alien culture or milieu.

ok well. if this is the definition, then i sometimes get 'culture shock' when im driving around in denver and i cant find my way home. haha.

there is this feeling i get. this certain feeling that i cant explain when im in a new place. traveling. discovering. embracing.

"so have you been to the philippines before?" my sweet new filipino friend, malinda, asked me on the plane.
um...no.
"oh. well, you know someone here then?"
no. well...im meeting my friend from the states.
"oh. i see. and they have been here before?"
no.

and my adventure was about to begin. sometimes not planning ahead is what makes things so exciting. i came with no expectations. i know nothing about the philippines. except for that manila is the capital and that i was arriving at night. and tayler was meeting me at the airport. at least that was the plan the last time we talked.

"maybe you should call her?" my sweet new filipino friend, patrick asked me at the airport.
oh its fine. i actually told her 8pm so shes not really that late.
"you dont have any number to call? where are you staying?"
i dont know. im sure it will be fine.

its hot here. im wearing a sweater, but underneath i am wearing a yellow tank top and i dont see anyone other women wearing tank tops. there is no internet at the airport and we said the baggage claim but you cant get back into the baggage claim area. these cars called "jeepneys" keep driving by...one just picked up a family of 15. no white girl with curly hair in a taxi. if anything i can just fly back home.
"KATE!"
yesss...i never felt so happy to see another white person.
"sorry our clock said it was earlier than it really was!"
um...yeah. good excuse. i dont even care im just glad you are here! now...tell me everything you know about this place.

rock fishing

"squid is the best bait for a jew fish," neil explains, "but its also very good to eat...so you have to decide if you want to eat it or hope that it will tempt a jew fish."
neil has been fishing for ten years. and his goal is to catch a jew fish.
"once he catches one, he will die a happy man." says his wife lou. lou hates fish.
michelle and i. we will help neil catch a jew fish. i have never really had a desire to fish...it always seemed like a pretty boring 'hobby.' but this is not that type of fishing. we watched videos of people catching great white sharks. tiger sharks. people falling off the rocks. in fact, their friends' dad had gone fishing on these rocks we were about to go to...and never. came. back.
this was not the the safe, boring kind of fishing.
we were equipped with buckets of hooks and bait. headlamps and shoes with grip. two poles and a large shark hook thing.
i was excited. anything that involves shark hooks and shoes with grip means adventure.
we went out at night. about 10pm. the cliffs are less than a five minute drive from neils' house. it was a full moon and we were the only ones out there. i loved it. you stand out on these rocks and watch the waves crashing around you. little crabs crawling next to your feet. waiting. any minute there could be a tug on your line in which you have to run over to this shallow area and reel in the fish with all your might. i starting imagining michelle slipping off the rocks and into the ocean. simultaneously a shark swims by and of course i jump in to save my friends' life but as i get out the shark BITES my calf! he bites and then lets me go. i have to get 45 stitches at the sydney hospital. and a shark bite scar to show everyone..."kate, KATE!"
oh, sorry, yep?
"we have to go. the currant is too angry. i reckon we wont catch anything tonight and its too dangerous."
what? we are just gonna give up??? fishing takes patience and dedication. and we HAVE to catch a jew fish!
"yeah, not tonight," says neil in his thick aussie accent.
And as we packed up, i started re-planning my life...around my new life goal. catching a jew fish.

there's no place like...first class

another trip overseas! this time to australia...i was off to visit my friend michelle! usually on these trips, getting there is half the fun (once you get on the flight of course). i have many memories of drinking champagne, watching movies and eating great food with my friends in first class. its usually pretty empty...the only people who can afford first class international are extremely wealthy business men or other airline employees.
i started my traveling around 3pm. leaving for 10 to 20 days. packed light. probably forgot something. first step was getting from DEN to LAX and then LAX to MEL.
a FIFTEEN hour flight.
fifteen hours! this is the longest flight i have been on. and as much as i wanted to sit in first class, Delta (my first choice) was not looking good. and now United was filling up. a zed fare on Quantas was looking like my best bet. which means i would have to sit in...eek, i dont even like to say the word...coach.
how bad could coach be though? really...i mean i keep telling myself that normal people travel this way all the time.
I check in and receive my seat number....57E. that does not sound good. and it wasnt. right away i see that 'E' is a middle seat in the middle section. the worst. i walk back with all my stuff to row 57 and i look over to see a baby and a three year old and a frantic mom with too much stuff. i couldnt even see my seat beneath all of the stuff, but somehow i was seated in the midst of the madness. a quick side note...i just wanna say that 'kids' should not be allowed to come on these long flights. they go crazy. i heard a comedian once say that there should be a whole other kids plane that is hooked on to the big plane. kind of like the kids table at thanksgiving :)
thank goodness the frantic mom was separated from her husband and was begging me to switch with him. yes, of course (any seat is better than that seat). so im off to my new seat. last row, but an extra seat between me and the crazy kiwi. who when i sat down says that her and i are "going to be great friends!" 'oh...good. um, my name is kate,' and i put out my hand. that is about as long as our friendship lasted as she seemed quite offended in the strength of my handshake. supposedly she had carpal tunnel and gave me dirty looks for the next 5 hours. the next 7 hours after that were spent with her BARE FEET nestled into my leg! where i was then giving her dirty looks. she said, 'oh sorry,' but did not move her feet.
all i could do was put on my headphones and my blanket and dream of the wonders that are...first class.