More things I have learned from becoming a Palawano:

16.   Having dying headlamp batteries in an outhouse is the root of sheer terror

17.   Never eat stringy, slimy bananas whole witnessing a cat with severe intestinal parasites.

18.   Hiluxes are all encompassing beauty. Salons: dreads, washes, that wind-tussled look…talk about versatility!

19.   Soccer cleats—false confidence.

20.   Books that sit around for long enough (e.g 3 weeks) turn into ant nurseries.

21.   Cockroach poop is remarkably substantial.

22.   Bamboo floors—ultimate trashcan ever!

23.   Fivefingers are fantastic conversation starters and novelties.

24.   Shaving is the most reliable form of mud removal.

25.   It is perfectly acceptable to be in bed by 7PM.

26.   Malaria until proven otherwise.

27.   Hiking is very educational in regard to physics, kinesiology (sp), and gait discrepancy.

28.   The concept of cat-proof doesn’t really exist here.

29.   Kensuli prayer meetings are punctuated by imminent typhoons that induce skydiving tendencies in venomous snakes. America---BORINGG!!

30.   Mosquito nets—feeling of security, mosquito net + tukew (machete) feeling of invincibility. Mosquito net + terkew + batik---something too awesome for this world.

 

Things I’ve learned since I started going native:

1.       Doxycycline gives you remarkably vivid, bizarre, and lucid dreams.

2.       Don’t EVER pause under a coconut tree unless you’re after a concussion.

3.       Stop signs do not exist in Palawan.

4.       ALWAYS wear you headlamp at night; snakes need to be detected.

5.       Geckos are suuuper loud-eg. Wake-you-up-from-Doxy-dream loud.

6.       There is little that cannot be achieved with a batik.

7.       Rice planting is the pits…cannot stand, cannot sit.

8.       According to our nurses, jackfruit looks like placenta. New food RUINDED!

9.       Toilet paper, charcoal, peanut butter—necessities of life.

10.   Hiluxes are BEAST, and also lower one’s life expectancy tremendously.

11.   Being completely dry is rate, and reason for celebration!

12.   So, it takes 3 Americans, 2 Palawanos, a broom and falling through a bamboo floor to catch a lizard

13.   If you chop a centipede in half, your problem doubles rather than is eliminated.

14.   It takes a village to move an outhouse.

15.   Palawano:too many syllables; too few words. (Seriously, “menunga” encompasses “good” “beautiful” “kind” etc…)

If (when?) I write a book about this year, I’ll entitle it “Eldew-peldew Rice”. In Palawano, that translates to “every day”. Rice is the glue that holds a Palawano together, and during our 2 weeks of bootcamp at the farm in the lowlands, I worked more with rice (planting, pounding); learned more words associated with rice (beges, emy, parey, lasung, lalu, tubigan..) and of course consumed more rice than with anything else. We played games of tag on the dikes in the rice padis, tried to improvise new ways of eating rice (when in doubt, SOY SAUCE!), and basically just revolved around the grain. Boot camp was a jarring start to my year here. It was like being snatched up by a typhoon, and then slammed into a Palawano speaking nucleus of inactivity. English was banished; luxuries were nonexistent….you washed your clothes, your body, and your dishes at the same pump, cooked over a fire, and followed the Palawanos around, constantly asking “Ano itwe?” meaning “what’s this?” At night, you’d sleep under a mosquito net, above a cold, hard bamboo floor in a shelter without walls—yet with 6 other girls. I’m not complaining though! We learned a LOT of Palawano, came to appreciate the work it takes to be a Palawano, and found great joy in the terrifying rides in the back of the Hilux, the olfactory offensiveness of the Pelinki, and games with the Palawans each afternoon after our brains eased to retain any new words. Since I’ve gotten here, I’m always dirty, usually wet, and rarely naked. (what a challenge!) Try shaving your pits in the dark. At a pump. With a shirt on. I’m now in KMTW, experiencing periods of culture shock and enjoying the fact that the ONLY method of transportation is your own two feet..but that’s for next time.

I sit cross-legged on the bamboo floor of our shelter, my headlamp fighting an unfair battle against the night. If I get too lost in my thoughts, the rasping crickets transport me back to Michigan--many a night I've spent on some peaceful hill, straining to keep myself awake and to pick up the seeps and zeets from millions of katydids. But, September nights in Palawan lack this fundamental part of early fall in the Midwest. Instead of thrushes and warblers, I hear a gecko (surprisingly loud!) and snippets of Palawano (remarkably unlike any language I've ever heard before). As is typical after a physically, mentally, spiritually taxing day, my though train has little structure or purpose. But, the night (and its absence of NFCs) reminds me of when, less than 3 weeks (yet seemingly a different life) ago, I sat on the shore of a lake in northern Michigan, appreciating the stars, migration, and general fullness of life. A warbler passed overhead, and Neil asked, "Doesn't that make you want to travel?" I responded that it did--but after more thought, there isn't much that doesn't give me the overwhelming desire to travel. Maps, books, the yearning for adventure--they all churn the cogs that drive my obsession with trying on the unknown. I suspect the 7 adventures/sms/family with me chose AFM--and this project--for that very reason-travel, the unknown adventure..So, that's why we bumped, and at some points, involuntarily levitated down the National Highway from Puerto Princesa to Brook's Point, struggling to stay awake through our first expense in the Philippines. It was one of those roads where picking your nose would be absolutely lethal, and at least a few passengers got violently ill...but it was an accurate snapshot of lowland life. Water buffalo, rice paddies, Jeepneys--it's all new and exciting, and I'm sure that we'll hate it all when the honeymoon phase ends and the culture shock sets in. But for now, the joy of travel continues to propel us through boot camp. (2 weeks of 1 hour a day of speaking English, 3 meals a day of rice, and the frustration? Endless!) Travel is not only physical, but mental too. I feel that each day my American mindset is challenged. Where will it be--and out team be--in 2 weeks? In 6 months? 5 years? A different place than it is now.