Reason 5: To Be A Celebrity

As a foreigner, particularly a “kano” (Tagalog shorthand for the Spanish word Americano), I enjoy something akin to celebrity status here in Philippines. Strangers frequently shake my hand, ask to take photos with me, and even dangle babies at me for reasons I’ve yet to determine. I even get less forceful pat-downs than locals when I go shopping (security guards are a common fixture at the entrances to most stores). Isn’t life grand?

Of course, as any tabloid will tell you, celebrity has its problems too.

For one, my life is an open book to perfect strangers; the smallest details of my day are public knowledge. If I eat somewhere new for lunch, my supervisor will be discussing it by the time I return to work. If I move to a new address, by the following day the college president will ask me how I like my new house. And this happens without my ever having to say a word. Now that’s convenient!

So, drinking a Pepsi Blue are we?
I’ll be sure to report this to the Governor!

But one of the strangest things about living abroad is the unaccountable popularity of media from the United States. And when my life history is assumed to be an episode of the OC, there are bound to be some let downs.

The popularity of U.S. media here also results in my being compared to famous actors and musicians from The States. Perhaps this phenomenon has been exacerbated by the presence of a U.S. Military base in Subic Bay up until the early 90’s—or has resulted from the large number of overseas Filipino workers living in the United States—but here in Olongapo City, I’m lucky to make it through the day without being compared to at least one celebrity.

So with no further ado, and to wrap up this blog post, why not play a round of:

Who Has Kevin Been Compared To?

On occasion, celebrity comparisons can be flattering:

Yes, the urge to compare me to 90’s grunge musician Kurt Cobain has persisted across culture, time, and 3,000 miles of ocean. It seems that picking up a guitar is the only sure fire way to demonstrate that I am, in fact, not a legendary rock icon.

At least 20 years my senior, Brad Pitt has persisted as a sex symbol and being compared to him isn’t all bad. That said, I would just once like to hear it from someone other than a 40 year-old man.

By the rings of Sauron! Before my beard (and quite possibly the motive force behind my decision to grow one), my students frequently compared me to Orlando Bloom—or rather his portrayal of Legolas in “The Lord of the Rings”. Now that I have a beard, I’m nervously awaiting a Gimli comparison.

When I am recognized (or rather go unrecognized) as just another non-famous U.S. citizen, my membership to one of several groups is instantly assumed:

Despite my long hair and bedraggled appearance, when they see me in the street strangers (particularly of the older, drunken variety) invariably holler the name “Joe”—a reference to American G.I.s who occupied the Philippines during the second world war. This appellation is so common, in fact, that I was even warned about it during Peace Corps training.

Okay, the assumption that I’m a wealthy tourist is valid and much more on the mark than other assumptions; I wear strange clothes, fumble through the local language, and wear a confused expression 90% of the time. But it sure is taking a lot longer than I’d hoped for venders to recognize me as a Peace Corps Volunteer (A.K.A.: “poor”).

A Mormon Missionary? I just don’t know what to say to that.

And, of course, sometimes the comparisons get downright weird:

Okay, so I've never been referred to as Marylin Monroe specifically. But, two men did once refer to me as a “beautiful woman” either in jest, or as the result of severe nearsightedness.

In what I think is a reference to a Filipino television show featuring a laboratory-grown, mentally ill (but surprisingly hunky) man with a heart of gold, children repeatedly chant “Budoy” whenever I am around. Disturbing, to say the least.

And the most bizarre comparison has to have been a reference to Jeremy Reed, the electricity conducting, albino character with alopecia from the 1995 movie “Powder”. I guess I need to get that fork out of the wall outlet and spend a little more time in the sun.

On that note, and until next month...

Palaam!

P.S. It’s November and while a vegan thanksgiving is far beyond my reach at the moment, I did receive a spectacular package from my Aunt a few days ago filled with lots of goodies, including vegan peanut butter cups, candy, and cashews. So, don’t worry: I’ll still be having a delicious, if slightly unconventional, Thanksgiving feast.