Reason 7: To See The Signs

Yes, the average Peace Corps volunteer may delight in seeing the sights--but, as a hopelessly compulsive reader, I delight in far more tedious pursuits. Namely sign-watching.
 

Over the last few months, I've been taking snapshots of the many billboards and advertisements that blanket the streets of Luzon. Ironically, because English is associated with education here, most signs are written in English to add credibility. The results, from the perspective of a foreigner, are often hilarious:

Presumably this store is geared toward men, and while I don't support the rampant cockfighting in the Philippines, it's tough to avoid stopping by to gawk at the "Cockhouse".



"Baboy" is the Tagalog word for pig, so I can assure you that this sign is completely culturally appropriate. 

It does, however, seem to hint at a very specific clientele...



An ultrasound store? Let's hope.



I'm not sure what a "Tweener" is, but I certainly wouldn't let my (as of yet non-existent) children anywhere near one.



Worst. nickname. ever. Almost too easy to make fun of 

(though it hasn't stopped me from trying).


 

Given the bluntness of employee qualifications here, I wouldn't be surprised to see a "no fatties" sign somewhere around back too.



And to think I've been paying all these years...



The first seeds of feminism have been sewn. Equal opportunity urinals with complimentary security guards conveniently available next to the busiest highway in the Philippines. Neat.



I'm sure this makes sense to locals. 

But, I still can't bring myself to eat here.



...where knowledge is contagious!



I'm not sure what's going on here, 

but I gather it's easy to get in.

I know that Angry Birds are majorly in vogue here in the Philippines, but using them to advertise a strip-club 

is just plain ridiculous.

Reason 6: Christmas In January!

It’s Christmas time in the Philippines, and in lieu of snow and ornamented Douglas firs, I’m celebrating the Yule-tide amidst sweltering heat and naked palm trees. The most jarring difference between Christmas here and Christmas stateside however, is definitely the length. Beginning in late September and ending in early January, at this point it’s hard to remember a time when it wasn’t Christmas. 

Pictured here: Christmas. 

Not pictured here, or any where else in the Philippines: 

Halloween and Thanksgiving.

Another interesting difference is the prominence of both Catholicism and Western consumerism here in the Philippines. This odd union has led to a Christmas season speckled with both religious sentiment—including a number of infrequently celebrated Catholic holidays like the "Feast of the Epiphany" that manage to stretch Christmas all the way to New Years and beyond—as well as the more familiar corporate trappings like fuzzy Santa caps and be-costumed bus drivers.

Unfortunately I didn't have my camera on the bus, 

so you get this instead.

I didn't suffer too much from Christmas culture shock, however, as I was lucky to attend (despite 3000 miles of ocean) that seemingly inescapable Christmas tradition: a Christmas office party. Fortunately the good company of my co-workers and a few rounds of Secret Santa left my halls thoroughly decked by the end of Christmas (or should I say mid-January).

The whole Gordon College English Department Gang 

a few days before Christmas

Who needs gifts when you have good friends?

 Okay, friends giving gifts is pretty nice too. 

 No body wants the Secret Santa gift from the foreign guy. 
Hope she likes mint chocolates.

So, until next month...

Maligayang Pasko (Merry Christmas)!

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.