Philippines Adventure, Pt. 3
Minesview
Before Erik left on Tuesday, we went to a place called Minesview. It is considered a park, but it has turned into a curio shopping area with a great outlook. It is convenient that such a great souvenir shopping area is located so close to where I live. It is a 15-minute walk uphill to the site, but the walk is one of the most beautiful in Baguio because of the views one can take in of the mountains and the rich foliage. I thought it was really funny that we saw two signs for no dumping of garbage nailed to posts that were surrounded by garbage. Oh well, they tried. The stalls are almost endless there, although when you enter the park, it does not seem that there are many vendors. As soon as you start walking further, though, you see that there are innumerable stalls selling derivations of the same thing. I devised a system that I would not buy more than one or two things from one person. I might as well spread the wealth around considerin
g all the things are of the same quality and about the same price. They sell blanks, slipper, jewelry, t-shirts, woodcarvings, sarongs, place mats and table runners, wall hangings, wooden spoons, key chains galore, and many other little things all made by hand and from local materials. I love to go to local craft markets because they fashion such neat things for the home. They also sell some food items like strawberry jam and strawberry wine (this is a big strawberry area; there is even a strawberry festival in February) and peanut brittle and other crunchy things. I loved looking at all the items although you cannot linger too long otherwise they think you want to buy something, and I don’t like to lead people on. I am sure it is difficult to make much money there since there are so many people selling the same thing.
I decided that I would not bargain with the people because it seems ridiculous to me. I used to love to bargain, to see what was the lowest price I could get for something; then I realized how stupid I was being. In college I worked with an alternative trade group where we tried to import goods that were bought at a fair price so the artisans could make a living wage from these crafts. Well, how stupid would it be for me to go where the people are actually making these things and try to pay less for the items than what they requested. Sure, they might try to take advantage of someone like me; but in reality, those items, no matter how much mark-up they add for foreigners, are going to cost less than at a fair trade store. Plus, I am buying directly, so no middleman. Therefore, I will never bargain down a price again. It is direct economic assistance, valuing the work they do and paying a correct price for it. Americans tend to help people the way Americans want to help them, not the way they want to be helped. They don’t want charity; they want to be valued like any other businessman wants to be valued. So, I will not give them handouts, but I will buy their crafts at full price.
It was a blustery day when we went. I think the only other foreigners that were there were some Koreans or other Asian tourists. (It is still difficult to distinguish the various Asian nationalities; I said Korean because there are actually a lot of Korean tourists and students here. I was told the students come here to study English because it’s cheaper. I don’t know why the tourists come to Baguio.) We saw some weird things there: a St. Bernard under an umbrella next to which you can take a picture while holding a sign for Minesview. I have no idea why anyone would want to pose next to a big dog. Bizarre! But, it gets weirder. When we turned the corner, we saw ponies with pink manes. Yeah, pink! It was actually kind of sad. These ponies stood there just waiting for someone to sit on them to take a p
icture. Of course, you had to pay for this wonderful opportunity, which complemented the strange sort of appearance. I guess Minesview is kind of like a circus experience too, if you want to delve into that side of it. I did not and never plan to. I may not be an animal lover, but I am not cruel to animals. I even don’t like zoos because I don’t like to see those animals caged and on display, so I felt compassion for these animal freaks at Minesview.
Finally, we reached the mountain vista. Wow! I was impressed. Even with the inopportune weather, we were able to see a fabulous panorama or mountains, rice terraces and tropical forests. The city of Baguio was nestled in the center like an enchanted village. I could have stood there forever. Something about looking at the immensity of mountains make my heart sing and my soul soar. It is when I look at those mountains and absorb their strength that I really feel God’s presence because his power is reflected in his creation. There can be no abstraction in viewing such monstrosities. I have returned there once since our visit, on a perfectly clear day, and I plan to return again when I get my new camera.
Beating around the bush
Filipinos, and Asians in general (so my Vietnamese friend says), tend to be very indirect. They will go out of their way to be non-confrontational. In fact, if they see something is remiss, they will simply look at you and smile or laugh in your direction. This is very amusing to me because Americans in particular tend to be very blunt or completely uninvolved. Either we will blurt something out, like…”Hey, your fly is open,” or, “You have toilet paper on your foot” or we will avoid making any gesture (so no staring, no smiling, no laughing). Of course, these are generalizations on both accounts, but it is important to know the difference at any rate, even if slightly obtuse or incorrect.. I suppose that Asians are less likely to stick their feet in their mouths as we Americans say. That’s what I am trying to work on: how to be effectively straightforward without hurting people. The knack of the century…
Badminton
I started to play badminton with the director of the school every morning for a half an hour. It is really great because it is a wonderful time for us to talk about anything from hair to food to places in the Philippines and politics. On one such morning, I asked her a very direct question about something I read in Cultureshock! Philippines regarding marital dalliances perpetuated by male Filipinos and the statements the authors made that these extra-marital affairs do not receive strong reproach from society. At first, she was a little flustered. Yeah, I know the question was a little out of nowhere. She told me that it was not really true, but I could tell that she was not quite done. I had an expectant look on my face and a patient stance as I waited for her to divulge more. It took her a while to admit that she had seen this at work, but she did not agree with the authors in saying that this practice was dignified by society.
We talked about the wealthy and the fact that they are more prone to do this because the men are often taken away from their families for extended periods of time, and they also have the money to support these “side” families. In the book, it expressed how these men must care for the extra family, so although they may not be criticized openly for having a mistress and illegitimate children, they would be maligned for leaving them to fend for themselves. So, it was interesting to see the progression of my conversation with her. At first, she was hesitant to talk to me about such a touchy subject, but when she saw that I wanted to learn and to know, she started to share more observations with me. We even got into a really good conversation about what was culture and what was sin. She did not think that these extra-marital affairs were cultural phenomena but that they were sin phenomena. She said that these affairs tear a family apart and are not good for the society. I agree with her view of what is culture and what is sin, but I think that each society has its own unique vices they must deal with.
Wright Park
Since I am very scholarly now, in that I read all day and teach for one hour (yes, I am calling myself a scholar although believe me, I know how loose that term is being applied), I need to get out and make myself move. I am no longer riding my bike to work and walking for 16 hours straight and lifting people (thank the Lord!). It feels good to get out there and for at least 30 minutes, I am running in circles at a place called Wright Park. Although I feel very conspicuous there at times, I do not care because all around me is beauty, and I feel safe. Sure I run with my head down the majority of the time because I do not want to look too anomalous, but I feel strong and I feel good about my body, both of which are so important. I must not only exercise my hea
d but my body for after all, they are both a part of me and one without the other is pretty pointless and debilitating, and I do not want to be pointless. So, I run in circles.
Tuesday, I went running, and it started to rain, well, sprinkle really, and all the school kids left, along with the lovers walking lazily about the premises and the hawkers selling bright orange, almost florescent oranges at the corner, and the dubious trucks that loiter about not really doing much of anything but waiting for texts on the mp3 player cell phones. I was the only one left, except for the security guard. I ran past like he had observed many time before, and he yelled out, “It’s raining!?!” As if I did not know that it was raining, he made that comment. I got a big kick out of the statement and laughed and replied, “I know!” and kept running. Now, I did not last long after the small exchange, but it was a special sort of humanizing experience. Suddenly Wright Park was no longer my running track, but it was the place where I made that funny exchange with a friendly security guard.
Now, Wednesday, I went running again, and I saw that same guard as I passed by this small cement bridge that links the two paths and crosses over the small, moldy-looking man-made pond. I smiled at him, and he blurted out, “Oh, you again!” I laughed and continued on my way. I continued to make eye contact with him and continued to smile as we shared our little interchange. He even counted the number of laps I made and said, “Isn’t that enough?” I was very amused. Finally, as I was exiting the park, I wished him a good night and left with a smile on my face. It is amazing how small little exchanges like that can bring to life a place, and how they can really make a place memorable and etch forever in your mind the significance of a particular experience. That is why I love to travel. Sure, I love to see new places and take pictures of famous monuments and revel in God’s created wonders, but I am more drawn to the people and the myriad cultures that exist today, how wonderful, how diverse, how tantalizing. I am blessed to know so many people around the world. People’s stories and their lives will continue to serve as one motivation in my life as I pursue my journey.
The smells
How can I describe what Baguio smells like? You might be wondering why I even want to describe the smell. I mean, that is a pretty unusual thing on which to expound, but I think you might enjoy it. I also believe that smell is one of the most powerful sensations God has given us. It has so many associative powers with time and place. So, because I am really trying to give you a holistic rendition of my time in the Philippines, I want to provide you with a rich enumeration of the smells I absorb while I walk down the cement sidewalks from town to the school. Here we go. First, one cannot escape the fresh smell of the exotic trees here. Where maple trees grow in WI, they are replaced with guava trees, palm trees, and bamboo that shoot up straight into the sky. They are tall and lithe, like Russian ballerinas, impossibly thin yet replete with strength and versatility. Next, juxtaposed with this enchanting smell, is the overpowering smell of diesel spewing from the trucks and jeepneys speeding past and honking while polluting my very nostrils that are assaulted by their presence. Never mind that I am complicit in their habits because I am very content to take the 25-cent ride into town in lieu of walking an hour one-way. However, when I am the smeller, I am less jovial in their decision to douse me in diesel particulates.
Mixing with the diesel is an even more pungent smell, and that is the scent of burning garbage. You see, the trash collectors here are unreliable at best and non-existent in general, so to
keep the area clean, most people burn trash. I recently read in my CultureShock! Philippines book that Filipinos are very clean people when they remain in their own space. They are meticulous with their appearance, and they will sweep their cement floors and dirt entryways until the rooster stops crowing (haha; roosters never stop, so I suppose the comparison is a little extreme, but you get the picture). However, as soon as they enter the public realm, they have little regard for the cleanliness of the space, discarding their plastic wrappers as if it they are biodegradable. There are many public sweepers to assuage this problem; yet, it always remains a challenge to keep the public space clean when there are no garbage bins in public spaces and low personal drive to avoid littering.
Finally, the smell that is most indicative of my area is the smell of animal excrement. Yeah, I know, I started out nice and ended with the big downer. There are more dogs here than any other place I have been, and more chickens, goats, pigs, and then there is that smelly horse stable near the school where they have small ponies that tourists and locals alike can ride. Well, my friend, Esther, wants me to try it out with her, and I was willing until I saw that they live in their own dung and have no desire to mount something that smells like a port-a-potty after a hot day at the county fair! After this genial mixing of odors, I have learned to pick and choose what I will smell. Funny, huh, to be able to distinguish them all then dwell on the good and push the others scent down the ol’ hatch. I choose to smell the green, to look at the green, and meditate on the green of God’s creation and not on the awful after effects of human irresponsibility and animal waste. We all have choices to make ☺
Light Switches, Laundry, and Little Pests
I want to talk about the weird places they put light switches in this house (I wanted to say in the Philippines, but I think it just might be an anomaly for this structure). Have you ever heard of putting a light switch inside a cabinet or inside a shelving area? It took me about a week to figure out where they put their light switches. I have noticed that the locations of light switches can be a cultural thing. The French put them outside the bathroom; we put them inside the bathroom (as they do here in the Philippines because of the U.S. influence, I think. I will return to this motif when I travel to other Asian countries. Maybe I have something and maybe I don’t). As for the odd places I just mentioned, I chalk that up to practicality. Filipinos are very practical and aesthetic beauty inside the home is a bit cruder than in the US because they have fewer modern conveniences, eschewing them not out of desire but out of limited financial resources. So, why take up wall space with a light switch when you can conceal it in these crafty places? Or, it might be the shelves and the bookcases were afterthoughts. So, maybe this was just a worthless paragraph that I didn’t feel like erasing. Plus, light switch fits my alliterative title ☺
Moving on!
Even though there is a washing machine, I have decided that I will wash my meager amount of clothing by hand. I like the exercise and it fulfills my need to be domestic every once and a while. I think I wash my clothes maybe three times a week, washing less than 10 articles at a time. When the sun is blazing high, the clothes dry in a couple of hours on the lines, or for a quick drying trick, you can even put the clothes on the roof! I thought they were joking when they said they dry their clothes on the roof. I have yet to try it, but I am sure I will in the near future.
Finally, I want to share with you my little pests’ stories. I have seen more tarantula-sized spiders than I ever wanted to. I was brushing my teeth on night, when I saw a huge spider the size of my fist go behind the toilet. I never saw it exit, so I am still wary when I sit there. Then, last night I was emailing some people and this massive spider crawled across the floor. I almost had it too, with my mug, but I think it noticed the shadow descending on it and it escaped into some crevice. A couple nights ago, there was this bizarre creepy-looking bug on my ceiling. All I could think of was it falling into my bed while I was sleeping. What if I even eat bugs while I sleep? I guess it doesn’t really matter since I am asleep. As long as I stay sleeping and don’t wake up to find a spider crawling into my mouth. I might have an aneurism. Besides the gamut of God’s creepy crawlers, there are so many fruit flies and little ants that I cannot contain myself. I am trying to coexist peacefully with them, and I think I am doing okay, but I cannot help but be cognizant of them. Oh, well, God’s green earth is a lot more alive in the Philippines than in the Midwest, so I have to deal with the blessings and the curses.
Before Erik left on Tuesday, we went to a place called Minesview. It is considered a park, but it has turned into a curio shopping area with a great outlook. It is convenient that such a great souvenir shopping area is located so close to where I live. It is a 15-minute walk uphill to the site, but the walk is one of the most beautiful in Baguio because of the views one can take in of the mountains and the rich foliage. I thought it was really funny that we saw two signs for no dumping of garbage nailed to posts that were surrounded by garbage. Oh well, they tried. The stalls are almost endless there, although when you enter the park, it does not seem that there are many vendors. As soon as you start walking further, though, you see that there are innumerable stalls selling derivations of the same thing. I devised a system that I would not buy more than one or two things from one person. I might as well spread the wealth around considerin
g all the things are of the same quality and about the same price. They sell blanks, slipper, jewelry, t-shirts, woodcarvings, sarongs, place mats and table runners, wall hangings, wooden spoons, key chains galore, and many other little things all made by hand and from local materials. I love to go to local craft markets because they fashion such neat things for the home. They also sell some food items like strawberry jam and strawberry wine (this is a big strawberry area; there is even a strawberry festival in February) and peanut brittle and other crunchy things. I loved looking at all the items although you cannot linger too long otherwise they think you want to buy something, and I don’t like to lead people on. I am sure it is difficult to make much money there since there are so many people selling the same thing.I decided that I would not bargain with the people because it seems ridiculous to me. I used to love to bargain, to see what was the lowest price I could get for something; then I realized how stupid I was being. In college I worked with an alternative trade group where we tried to import goods that were bought at a fair price so the artisans could make a living wage from these crafts. Well, how stupid would it be for me to go where the people are actually making these things and try to pay less for the items than what they requested. Sure, they might try to take advantage of someone like me; but in reality, those items, no matter how much mark-up they add for foreigners, are going to cost less than at a fair trade store. Plus, I am buying directly, so no middleman. Therefore, I will never bargain down a price again. It is direct economic assistance, valuing the work they do and paying a correct price for it. Americans tend to help people the way Americans want to help them, not the way they want to be helped. They don’t want charity; they want to be valued like any other businessman wants to be valued. So, I will not give them handouts, but I will buy their crafts at full price.
It was a blustery day when we went. I think the only other foreigners that were there were some Koreans or other Asian tourists. (It is still difficult to distinguish the various Asian nationalities; I said Korean because there are actually a lot of Korean tourists and students here. I was told the students come here to study English because it’s cheaper. I don’t know why the tourists come to Baguio.) We saw some weird things there: a St. Bernard under an umbrella next to which you can take a picture while holding a sign for Minesview. I have no idea why anyone would want to pose next to a big dog. Bizarre! But, it gets weirder. When we turned the corner, we saw ponies with pink manes. Yeah, pink! It was actually kind of sad. These ponies stood there just waiting for someone to sit on them to take a p
icture. Of course, you had to pay for this wonderful opportunity, which complemented the strange sort of appearance. I guess Minesview is kind of like a circus experience too, if you want to delve into that side of it. I did not and never plan to. I may not be an animal lover, but I am not cruel to animals. I even don’t like zoos because I don’t like to see those animals caged and on display, so I felt compassion for these animal freaks at Minesview.Finally, we reached the mountain vista. Wow! I was impressed. Even with the inopportune weather, we were able to see a fabulous panorama or mountains, rice terraces and tropical forests. The city of Baguio was nestled in the center like an enchanted village. I could have stood there forever. Something about looking at the immensity of mountains make my heart sing and my soul soar. It is when I look at those mountains and absorb their strength that I really feel God’s presence because his power is reflected in his creation. There can be no abstraction in viewing such monstrosities. I have returned there once since our visit, on a perfectly clear day, and I plan to return again when I get my new camera.
Beating around the bush
Filipinos, and Asians in general (so my Vietnamese friend says), tend to be very indirect. They will go out of their way to be non-confrontational. In fact, if they see something is remiss, they will simply look at you and smile or laugh in your direction. This is very amusing to me because Americans in particular tend to be very blunt or completely uninvolved. Either we will blurt something out, like…”Hey, your fly is open,” or, “You have toilet paper on your foot” or we will avoid making any gesture (so no staring, no smiling, no laughing). Of course, these are generalizations on both accounts, but it is important to know the difference at any rate, even if slightly obtuse or incorrect.. I suppose that Asians are less likely to stick their feet in their mouths as we Americans say. That’s what I am trying to work on: how to be effectively straightforward without hurting people. The knack of the century…
Badminton
I started to play badminton with the director of the school every morning for a half an hour. It is really great because it is a wonderful time for us to talk about anything from hair to food to places in the Philippines and politics. On one such morning, I asked her a very direct question about something I read in Cultureshock! Philippines regarding marital dalliances perpetuated by male Filipinos and the statements the authors made that these extra-marital affairs do not receive strong reproach from society. At first, she was a little flustered. Yeah, I know the question was a little out of nowhere. She told me that it was not really true, but I could tell that she was not quite done. I had an expectant look on my face and a patient stance as I waited for her to divulge more. It took her a while to admit that she had seen this at work, but she did not agree with the authors in saying that this practice was dignified by society.
We talked about the wealthy and the fact that they are more prone to do this because the men are often taken away from their families for extended periods of time, and they also have the money to support these “side” families. In the book, it expressed how these men must care for the extra family, so although they may not be criticized openly for having a mistress and illegitimate children, they would be maligned for leaving them to fend for themselves. So, it was interesting to see the progression of my conversation with her. At first, she was hesitant to talk to me about such a touchy subject, but when she saw that I wanted to learn and to know, she started to share more observations with me. We even got into a really good conversation about what was culture and what was sin. She did not think that these extra-marital affairs were cultural phenomena but that they were sin phenomena. She said that these affairs tear a family apart and are not good for the society. I agree with her view of what is culture and what is sin, but I think that each society has its own unique vices they must deal with.
Wright Park
Since I am very scholarly now, in that I read all day and teach for one hour (yes, I am calling myself a scholar although believe me, I know how loose that term is being applied), I need to get out and make myself move. I am no longer riding my bike to work and walking for 16 hours straight and lifting people (thank the Lord!). It feels good to get out there and for at least 30 minutes, I am running in circles at a place called Wright Park. Although I feel very conspicuous there at times, I do not care because all around me is beauty, and I feel safe. Sure I run with my head down the majority of the time because I do not want to look too anomalous, but I feel strong and I feel good about my body, both of which are so important. I must not only exercise my hea
d but my body for after all, they are both a part of me and one without the other is pretty pointless and debilitating, and I do not want to be pointless. So, I run in circles.Tuesday, I went running, and it started to rain, well, sprinkle really, and all the school kids left, along with the lovers walking lazily about the premises and the hawkers selling bright orange, almost florescent oranges at the corner, and the dubious trucks that loiter about not really doing much of anything but waiting for texts on the mp3 player cell phones. I was the only one left, except for the security guard. I ran past like he had observed many time before, and he yelled out, “It’s raining!?!” As if I did not know that it was raining, he made that comment. I got a big kick out of the statement and laughed and replied, “I know!” and kept running. Now, I did not last long after the small exchange, but it was a special sort of humanizing experience. Suddenly Wright Park was no longer my running track, but it was the place where I made that funny exchange with a friendly security guard.
Now, Wednesday, I went running again, and I saw that same guard as I passed by this small cement bridge that links the two paths and crosses over the small, moldy-looking man-made pond. I smiled at him, and he blurted out, “Oh, you again!” I laughed and continued on my way. I continued to make eye contact with him and continued to smile as we shared our little interchange. He even counted the number of laps I made and said, “Isn’t that enough?” I was very amused. Finally, as I was exiting the park, I wished him a good night and left with a smile on my face. It is amazing how small little exchanges like that can bring to life a place, and how they can really make a place memorable and etch forever in your mind the significance of a particular experience. That is why I love to travel. Sure, I love to see new places and take pictures of famous monuments and revel in God’s created wonders, but I am more drawn to the people and the myriad cultures that exist today, how wonderful, how diverse, how tantalizing. I am blessed to know so many people around the world. People’s stories and their lives will continue to serve as one motivation in my life as I pursue my journey.
The smells
How can I describe what Baguio smells like? You might be wondering why I even want to describe the smell. I mean, that is a pretty unusual thing on which to expound, but I think you might enjoy it. I also believe that smell is one of the most powerful sensations God has given us. It has so many associative powers with time and place. So, because I am really trying to give you a holistic rendition of my time in the Philippines, I want to provide you with a rich enumeration of the smells I absorb while I walk down the cement sidewalks from town to the school. Here we go. First, one cannot escape the fresh smell of the exotic trees here. Where maple trees grow in WI, they are replaced with guava trees, palm trees, and bamboo that shoot up straight into the sky. They are tall and lithe, like Russian ballerinas, impossibly thin yet replete with strength and versatility. Next, juxtaposed with this enchanting smell, is the overpowering smell of diesel spewing from the trucks and jeepneys speeding past and honking while polluting my very nostrils that are assaulted by their presence. Never mind that I am complicit in their habits because I am very content to take the 25-cent ride into town in lieu of walking an hour one-way. However, when I am the smeller, I am less jovial in their decision to douse me in diesel particulates.
Mixing with the diesel is an even more pungent smell, and that is the scent of burning garbage. You see, the trash collectors here are unreliable at best and non-existent in general, so to
keep the area clean, most people burn trash. I recently read in my CultureShock! Philippines book that Filipinos are very clean people when they remain in their own space. They are meticulous with their appearance, and they will sweep their cement floors and dirt entryways until the rooster stops crowing (haha; roosters never stop, so I suppose the comparison is a little extreme, but you get the picture). However, as soon as they enter the public realm, they have little regard for the cleanliness of the space, discarding their plastic wrappers as if it they are biodegradable. There are many public sweepers to assuage this problem; yet, it always remains a challenge to keep the public space clean when there are no garbage bins in public spaces and low personal drive to avoid littering.Finally, the smell that is most indicative of my area is the smell of animal excrement. Yeah, I know, I started out nice and ended with the big downer. There are more dogs here than any other place I have been, and more chickens, goats, pigs, and then there is that smelly horse stable near the school where they have small ponies that tourists and locals alike can ride. Well, my friend, Esther, wants me to try it out with her, and I was willing until I saw that they live in their own dung and have no desire to mount something that smells like a port-a-potty after a hot day at the county fair! After this genial mixing of odors, I have learned to pick and choose what I will smell. Funny, huh, to be able to distinguish them all then dwell on the good and push the others scent down the ol’ hatch. I choose to smell the green, to look at the green, and meditate on the green of God’s creation and not on the awful after effects of human irresponsibility and animal waste. We all have choices to make ☺
Light Switches, Laundry, and Little Pests
I want to talk about the weird places they put light switches in this house (I wanted to say in the Philippines, but I think it just might be an anomaly for this structure). Have you ever heard of putting a light switch inside a cabinet or inside a shelving area? It took me about a week to figure out where they put their light switches. I have noticed that the locations of light switches can be a cultural thing. The French put them outside the bathroom; we put them inside the bathroom (as they do here in the Philippines because of the U.S. influence, I think. I will return to this motif when I travel to other Asian countries. Maybe I have something and maybe I don’t). As for the odd places I just mentioned, I chalk that up to practicality. Filipinos are very practical and aesthetic beauty inside the home is a bit cruder than in the US because they have fewer modern conveniences, eschewing them not out of desire but out of limited financial resources. So, why take up wall space with a light switch when you can conceal it in these crafty places? Or, it might be the shelves and the bookcases were afterthoughts. So, maybe this was just a worthless paragraph that I didn’t feel like erasing. Plus, light switch fits my alliterative title ☺
Moving on!Even though there is a washing machine, I have decided that I will wash my meager amount of clothing by hand. I like the exercise and it fulfills my need to be domestic every once and a while. I think I wash my clothes maybe three times a week, washing less than 10 articles at a time. When the sun is blazing high, the clothes dry in a couple of hours on the lines, or for a quick drying trick, you can even put the clothes on the roof! I thought they were joking when they said they dry their clothes on the roof. I have yet to try it, but I am sure I will in the near future.
Finally, I want to share with you my little pests’ stories. I have seen more tarantula-sized spiders than I ever wanted to. I was brushing my teeth on night, when I saw a huge spider the size of my fist go behind the toilet. I never saw it exit, so I am still wary when I sit there. Then, last night I was emailing some people and this massive spider crawled across the floor. I almost had it too, with my mug, but I think it noticed the shadow descending on it and it escaped into some crevice. A couple nights ago, there was this bizarre creepy-looking bug on my ceiling. All I could think of was it falling into my bed while I was sleeping. What if I even eat bugs while I sleep? I guess it doesn’t really matter since I am asleep. As long as I stay sleeping and don’t wake up to find a spider crawling into my mouth. I might have an aneurism. Besides the gamut of God’s creepy crawlers, there are so many fruit flies and little ants that I cannot contain myself. I am trying to coexist peacefully with them, and I think I am doing okay, but I cannot help but be cognizant of them. Oh, well, God’s green earth is a lot more alive in the Philippines than in the Midwest, so I have to deal with the blessings and the curses.
Comments