Friday, March 23, 2012

los Filippinos

Everyone said not to go to Cebu City. Oh, but it's just for one night on the way to the islands, it'll be fine, no worries. Then a street urchin pushes you into oncoming traffic and all of a sudden going straight from the airport to the ferry terminal seems like such an obvious choice.

Just kidding, I crashed a motorbike. But now it seems better, right? It's all about perspective. Especially when you're lying in a pile of gravel when a motorbike on top of you.

Also in the Philipppines:

Got stopped by the police whilst driving a scooter (pre-motobike whoopsies daisies) with an expired drivers license. Blabbered an explanation, was told that Filipino police are very kind, agreed, heartily, and went on my way.

Visited a prison, watched inmates dancing, had an awkward conversation with a guy the same age as me who's been in jail for 7 years (with 4 more to go), dealt with my white, middle class, first world guilt.

Met a monkey named Kieko. Kieko had to be kept on a leash because he learned to make fire by watching people light cigarettes and then started lighting matches on the bungalow roofs.

Got sea and land-sick.

Vomited into the ocean while swimming, fully clothed, to a deserted tropical island (*see above).

That's about all that I remember right now, but I might be having heat-induced amnesia.

                                                                 JAZZ HANDS!

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Going going gone

I had intended to write an 'end of Korea' wrap-up post. It was meant to be a nice thing about the old man who sells potatoes around the corner from my house. About how, after passing him nearly everyday for 2 years and smiling, bowing, and saying hello in the most honorific form, he would occasionally grunt and nod at me in response. About how this could perhaps be a witty metaphor for my time in Korea.

Then I thought of writing about all the things I'd never done until I moved to Korea. Teaching English, learning a non-roman alphabet, living in a Confusious society, getting food poisoning, being a racial minority, having expendible income... About how these things had affected or changed me, but written in a light, pithy way, not a Chicken Soup for the Soul kind of way.

But now I'm in Indonesia, after three weeks in the Philippines, and already those things seem so far away that already I'm hardly the right person to accuratly comment on them anymore. Furthermore, the heat has cause my wit to escape from my body via my sweaty armpits. And lastly, but not leastly, the television downstairs is blaring what sounds to be Indonesian muppets and I'm super curious if  Miss. Piggy is wearing a headscarf. I've got to follow through on something eventually, so maybe this will be the one.