Please don't expect me to do that...

Last weekend my daughter went to her first birthday party here in the Philippines. I had heard that it is assumed that the entire family will come when a kid is invited, so we all decided to make an afternoon of it. The party was being held at a new hotel that has an amazing swimming pool and water park, so we brought our suits and towels.

The invitation said 2 pm, so we showed up at 1:59.

Upon arriving, we saw a sign for the birthday party...that said it started at 3 pm.

"Must be a mistake", we thought.

Before I go further, let me say that I feel the need to describe this party in detail because I was so fascinated by it--but I don't mean offense. I am in a time of learning and trying to understand the "why" behind the things I don't understand.

So, we head upstairs to the party room. Now, I knew from the invitation that this was a Frozen-themed party. I expected decorations. But nothing prepared me for what I saw when we stepped into the room:

It looked like a wedding reception. And it was clearly not going to start until 3 pm. The only other people there were the staff setting up the room and another American-ish dad with his son. (Though his family was from the US, the man was raised in the Philippines.) We sat together and looked longingly out the windows at the pool area. This was obviously not going to be a swimming party.

But here's what the party did have: vendors handing out French fries, popcorn, tempura, squid balls, and bubble tea, game booths where you could win prizes, a huge table full of toys (where kids could claim prizes during large group games run by an MC dressed as Anna from Frozen), a buffet (which we didn't stay for as we had already been there for hours and our kids had school the next day), a cake made of cupcakes which were all adorned with Frozen characters made entirely of icing, a DJ, and candy sprinkled around the centerpieces at every table.

A couple other kids finally started straggling in around 3 pm, and then the birthday girl came in with her family. Her mother was easy to identify. Her dress was gorgeous (and very shiny), her hair and makeup were immaculate. The birthday girl, turning 9, was harder to find. She was dressed as Elsa (Filipinos dressed as Nordic characters are pretty cute, really) but she was wrapped around her yaya and wouldn't let go for the first hour and a half of the party.

A yaya is a nanny. The relationship between a yaya and the children she cares for can vary from household to household. Here, it was really interesting to watch the mother make her rounds to guests, make sure the microphones were working, and braid her daughter's hair, while her daughter remained attached, literally, to her yaya. The mother told us that her daughter was throwing a tantrum, but to me it looked like a 9-year-old who was overwhelmed by being the center of attention at this very elaborate shindig. But who knows. I actually told my husband that the mm had probably told the girl to make a speech or sing or something. Lo and behold, one of the "surprises" introduced by the MC was that the birthday girl was going to grace us with a song! Her first time singing in front of people!

No wonder she was trying to hide.

Now, I did talk to the mom at several points during the party. During one of those conversations she told me that next year she's planning a Hollywood-themed party. !!  Aside from being ridiculously well-prepared, she struck me as someone who is generous and honestly loves to celebrate. She has four kids, so automatically she gets my respect. I think the birthday girl is her youngest. If I am very honest with myself, if I had the means (and a little less tact) I would probably want to throw a party like this one for my daughter if I thought even for a moment that it would make her feel loved and special. I mean, her name was up there in giant, Frozen letters! There were life-size Frozen figures up there! It could have been a dream come true.

I just wasn't convinced it was this little girl's dream come true.

But, who am I to judge? People had fun at the party, the loot bags and game prizes we came home with were beyond anything I've ever seen (seriously, it was like a second Christmas) and my kids had an amazing time.

Now, I wonder what my daughter is expecting for her party in a few months. You know how it goes at this age. Everything is about comparison and fitting in. and my daughter has really, really been struggling to fit in since we moved here. If I thought throwing this kind of party would help her gain friends and confidence, I think I would do it.

The problem is, I'm being shortsighted. If I did throw that kind of party, I'd be letting fear win over integrity. I'm so afraid my daughter will be teased and unpopular and go down the road of low self-esteem...or worse. But a party won't solve that problem. Young as she is, I need to teach her to be content, to love herself, to be kind, to be strong, to be thankful, and to share her wealth. Will she understand at age 9 that there are better places to distribute money than to spend it on a lavish, fancy party that would make her feel like a princess? It's one of those "she'll understand someday" or "she'll thank you for it later" scenarios.

But I want her to feel special now. (Hmmm...I seem to be channeling Veruca Salt, for some reason. The original Veruca, I mean.)

I won't throw a party that looks like a wedding reception. But I'm open to ideas for a party that celebrates who she is, what she enjoys, and also has the added benefit of giving other kids a really good time to remember her by.

Oh, I forgot one thing. The mom told me she put 2 pm on the invitations because Filipinos always show up so late to everything. I'll know for next time. :)

The New Standard

It's been so long since I've written anything here, I don't know where to begin catching up. So let's just jump right in to where I'm at now, shall we? Thanks for understanding. I've been busy...figuring out how to live in a foreign country on the other side of the world from everything and everyone I know and love. Forgive me.

Actually I had almost decided to call it quits on this blog. I don't have a wide readership, I don't often have large chunks of time when I can write, and, frankly, the subject matter is beginning to bore me. Maybe it's because I have moved out of my small, safe corner of the world and into a great big cultural enigma. Maybe it's because I see a lot of posts about true beauty and I think "Yeah, people get it. I don't have anything new to say."

But I recognize that writing is something that makes me happy, despite the effort it takes. I know this because I am constantly composing in my head. So I've decided to keep writing. After all, this overseas experience is turning out to be of immense importance to the very core of who I am. It might be nice to look back someday and remember how the process went. So the title remains "Beauty Redefined" for now, but be warned: the subject matter is shifting to reflect my experience adjusting to a new culture.

And this adjustment, by the way, actually has a lot to do with beauty, appearance, and self confidence. I have found that appearances matter even more in the Philippines than they do in the US. This really irked me at first, and often still does. Later, I'll get to why it doesn't constantly get to me anymore, but for now let me give some examples.

Cars. Cars here are always clean. Everyone's car is spotless. As I drive out of my neighborhood at 6 am every morning on the way to my kids' schools, I see professional drivers and household helpers out on the street, washing the cars. Here's what mine looks like:

 

Okay, I wrote that. No one would write "shame" on my car. But I have had people write "Princess" an make little drawings. The point is, my car is the only one on the road that is dirty enough to write on. As I drive behind the little buses with people sitting in the open back, I actually get laughed at...and even glared at. I once had a guy look me in the eye, look down at my hood, and look back at me, shaking his head slowly back and forth. I was shamed. This is a real thing. I get to my son's school and the teachers comment on the car. Washing the car is the first thing my helper asks to do when she comes to the house and sees it. (I have a helper who comes twice a week, so there is plenty of time in between for the car to get dirty.) And to make things worse, I scraped the front corner of the car against a wall one day (trying to turn this big beast into a teeny little driveway to get to a store, which I can't go back to because the guard still laughs at me when he sees me). I haven't had time to get the bumper fixed, so I boldly drive around in a dented, scraped, dirty car. And believe me, I feel the eyes on me. I feel the heat come to my cheeks as I drive around and see the looks people give my car.

 

 

The same goes for stains on clothing, trimmed trees in the yard, costumes for school programs, etc. Everything needs to be clean, shiny, spot-free, wrinkle-free...perfect.

 

Well. That is not how I roll. Especially in the kind of heat and humidity we deal with here. Who has the time and energy to maintain appearances? Filipinos do, somehow. They know how to look immaculate in any setting.

 

 

But I'm starting to understand why, I think. I mean, aside from the obvious historical fact that the Pinoy are a subjugated people with a self-esteem crisis. They were occupied by the Spanish for hundreds of years, and then came the Americans. When you've been occupied for so long, independence brings with it a need to prove yourself, I would imagine. One thing a clean, shiny car says is "I can afford to have a helper and/or driver take care of my car for me". I get that.

 

But there are also more practical reasons. If you have stains on your clothes, it means you let food drop at some point and didn't take care of it right away. I know from experience that if you have food on your clothes and they sit in a laundry basket because you don't have a helper to hand wash them, when you take them out they will be swarming with ants. You need to keep things much cleaner around here in the land of lightning-fast bugs.

 

Bugs actually contribute a lot to the lifestyle here. But that's another post for another time.

 

Anyway, I guess what I'm learning is that there are reasons to keep up appearances sometimes. I'm not used to feeling so inferior and sloppy so much of the time, but I can't let that turn my heart toward an attitude of judgment. I actually have a lot of respect for Filipinos--they are striving for beauty in a place where daily living is just not easy. I think their sense of pride is a thing to admire.

 

But...I also think it might be important for me to continue driving my dirty car and letting people confront their own stereotypes and judgments when they see it. What do you think? Should I be myself and be happy with what I'm capable of, or should I make more of an effort to assimilate and show respect for the community I'm in?



My undoing?

"I really appreciate your honesty and transparency. It's so refreshing!"

"Thank you for being so honest. I really appreciate it."

I used to hear comments like these a lot. I am the person who waits to be asked "How are you?" just so I can answer. I love to talk about myself, I love to be "real", I open myself up to people right off the bat if I get that trustworthy vibe from them (which I need to be more careful about). And many people have thanked me for it.

Not so here in the Philippines.

Here, I offend. I am the foreigner. I scare potential household helpers away at interviews because I'm "too honest" about the stress I'm under to keep the house clean and the family intact. I alienate neighbors because I don't act like a typical ma'am. I try to strike up conversations with people who clearly feel uncomfortable about me breaking from the conversational script in any given social interaction. I thought that by being vulnerable and humble and open I would make fast connections to people here, but the complex cultural histories at play and the infuriating fact that I wasn't able to pick up the entire language upon arrival (infuriating because I am supposed to be a linguistic genius) have built up a higher, stronger wall than I was expecting to be faced with.

So, I'm lonely.

And I'm losing my identity. I'm not part of a loving, supportive community where I get affirmation and kudos and gentle challenges. I'm not part of any community at all. I have always considered myself to be fairly independent, not needing to be with other people but choosing to. But I'm lost here without the safety net of having true supportive friendships to fall into when I doubt myself. And here, I live in self-doubt.

I have been told by a Filipina that I shouldn't be so honest and straightforward. I have been told not to open myself up to people here because they will either run away or take advantage. How do I make friends here then? I can vent with other expats, I can find guides to point me to resources I need in the city, and I can be prayed for at any church I visit. But these people will not be friends.

Never mind friends--how do I feel comfortable in my own skin? Or do I? Is that something I forfeited when I agreed to live cross-culturally?

Oh, the Horror!

Have you ever cleaned out a grease trap? I mean, a grease trap that hasn't been cleaned for a year? As of today, I have. Luckily it was dark under the sink, but from what I felt on my hands I imagine it looked like this:

Add some roaches and maggots (those I did see, crawling out into the light), and you have the nightmare that was under my sink. Now, we're living in a rental house. The owners never informed us about this thing. I have never lived in a house with a grease trap, so it wasn't on my radar at all. But the smell under my sink had gotten so bad, I had to get to the bottom of it.

Two hours later, I had black gunk up to my elbows, bacteria coating my lungs (I'm sure), and another notch on my "cockroaches killed" belt.

I will have nightmares about this day for years to come.

Then, the fumigators came to the house with their rat trap cages and placed them in my ceilings. If I hear cages rattling I'm supposed to call them to come remove the trapped rats. And we have glue traps set for mice too, which apparently I'm supposed to "just fold over and toss in the garbage" when a mouse gets caught. Grrreeaaaat.

Tomorrow, I do toilets! Yippee!!

Everyone is telling me to get a "helper" (i.e. housekeeper), and now I see the necessity for it. In a house this size and a country this hot and humid I could literally spend all of my free time cleaning. Literally. But finding household help is not easy. You have to get someone who is trustworthy and comes recommended by someone you know and trust. Well, I don't know anyone here yet.

I did interview one woman, but apparently I "scared her off". Really. I was feeling her out, describing some of the dynamics with me and my kids and explaining why I need help in the mornings, and apparently the picture I painted left her imagining a crazy kid throwing knives at her. Also, I asked her how long she thought it would take to clean our house each time she came. "3 or 4 hours", she said. So when I asked her to come work for us I named the hours she had described. But when I asked for four hours a day, that was considered an unrealistic expectation.

So, I won't get her, or anyone she knows, as a helper.

I've asked all around, but no referrals are coming in yet. In the meantime, my time really will be consumed cleaning this house. I don't even have the option of "letting it go" and putting it off. The bugs and rodents are too quick for that.

I feel disgusted...but as I reflect on other places I've lived, I realize that cleanliness and convenience are not as --

--sorry, I lost my train of thought. I hear a cage rattling above me. Ewww.....--

What I'm trying to say is that the things I'm dealing with here (rodents, clogged toilets, mildew, roaches, toxic grease traps, maggots in the trash) are not unique to this new land I live in. People have always had to share living space with critters and clean up after their physical needs. I guess the difference for me, personally, is that in my former life I could call someone or buy a product to take care of the problem such that I didn't have to see it, feel it, smell it or think of it. Here, I will be more hands-on and nose-in.

I hope my stomach is strong enough.

One thing--the smells and bugs and cleaning issues are so much a part of daily life here that I don't have to make any apologies for the state of my home or the smell of the trash. People here don't even register those things. Actually, today I as I was dumping my black water out in the front of the house, I was glad that the construction workers at the house next door were watching me get so dirty and sweaty. I almost wanted to go bum a cigarette off one of them and join them on their break. (Not really. I don't smoke. Just to be clear.) I wanted to say "See? I'm not a spoiled American 'ma'am'. I'm not here to hire help and look down on the country. I'm one of you! I clean my own grease trap!"

Okay, I have to go to bed. This rattling cage is really giving me the creeps. I have to get that fumigator back here first thing in the morning.

I'll clean a grease trap (once, but never again), but I won't dispose of my own rats.

Hot and gross. Too hot to think of a catchy title.

It's hot in the Philippines. All the time. And humid. All the time. This picture is pretty much my look now. All the time. Lovely isn't it?!

All the things I feared would happen here, do: my eyebrows melt off halfway through the day, my eyeliner smears and streaks, my clothes stink, my head sweats...not a pretty picture.

I got used to being pretty for awhile. I felt like I was getting the hang of making up my face to look like I had natural brows and lashes. I fit into my clothes well. Here, I've lost so much weight from the lack of gluten-free diet options that my clothes hang on me. I know, you're thinking "What's wrong with that?! I wish I had that problem?"...but it means I'm hungry a lot, and when you're bald you don't also want to look super thin. Besides--I've still got my baby tummy. :)

Anyway, the funny thing here is that I have totally stopped caring. When guys come over to do repairs on the house we're renting, I don't go check my makeup. When I go shopping, I don't put perfume on earrings on. Because, by the way, scents mixed with sweat and bug spray are just not okay, and for whatever reason I can't wear any of my earrings now without my ears getting infected.

So I'm finding myself without all of the beauty aids I was relying on. I feel ugly, frail, smelly, greasy (yes, I've had to go back to using Clearasil again here because my face sweats so much), washed out and just totally unfeminine. But I really don't care.

Life is so much harder here than in the US that suddenly appearances don't really mean much to me. Survival means more. I have this feeling that I'm here temporarily and have to "rough it" for awhile until I come home. Who knows how long "temporarily" will be, but the attitude is working for me so far. Luckily I have no occasions where I need to step it up and look nice in any way. At least, I haven't yet. For now, "hot and gross" is the new me!
Maybe this is the freedom I've needed.

Halloween Redefined (slightly)

Yes, I am finally writing again, post-move. How do I begin to catch you up on everything I've seen and felt in the last month and a half?!

I don't. I just start sharing stories.

So tonight I have to write about Halloween in the Philippines. I took my kids to a neighborhood where another expat family lives. They got us tickets. Yes, you have to buy tickets. My kids and I were as excited as we could be given that we were all melting in our costumes. But when we got there we didn't see much happening, and my daughter started to get anxious and disappointed. She expected that we would go, meet up with this family, and go together to ring doorbells. But here, the neighborhood puts on a "program". Everyone met up at the "clubhouse" and had pictures taken. Then we all started off as a big group for the "parade". Everyone went along a route together to the certain houses who had opted in for trick-or-treating.

My daughter wasn't having it. She just kept yelling "This isn't trick-or-treating! We shouldn't be going with all these people! I want to go alone!" I know, honey. So we hung to the back so we would feel like we were doing our own thing, but then several houses had run out of candy when we got there. Plus, the heat was forcing off costume accessories as we walked...Nothing I could do or say could make my daughter happy, which made me hurt so bad--especially because Halloween has always been a favorite of mine and we try to do a lot to make it special.

After trick-or-treating we went back to the clubhouse for the program, which involved a magician and a screening of Michael Jackson's Thriller", dubbed "The World's Greatest Music Video", followed by a "Thriller" dance contest. The star of the show here though was the food. My daughter walked in and saw ice cream, marshmallows, red popcorn, hot dogs on sticks with marshmallows (scroll down a bit on this blog post to see) and a chocolate fountain. Suddenly this was "the best Halloween ever"! Forget the distress of the first 80% of the night.

Afterwards I brought the kids home to our own neighborhood, where I put my son to bed and let my daughter go out again with kids here. I had to. The neighborhood was blaring the theme from "Ghostbusters" all night long and one house had purple strobe lights. A kid gets curious. The system here was the same, but this time she was ready for it: everyone gathered down at the communal basketball court (really just a concrete pad which doubles as a parking lot) and then went out all together to each house. She loved it.

I just think it's so interesting how circumstances can feel so bad, and then something very small can change our outlook completely and we end up with a memory of pure joy. I didn't like our first trick-or-treating experience here either, but I did feel good about our neighborhood tonight. As I was waiting for the kids to get up to me, I was outside watching and listening for them and I ended up talking with a guy who is doing work at the house next door (the workers apparently sleep out on this concrete pad at night while they're here because they are sort of migrant workers). It was a great conversation, especially given the language barrier, and I felt like Esther was making major inroads with kids in the neighborhood. It turned out to be a nice night after all.

Oh yeah--so I won't tell you all that I had to go through to get my daughter's costume put together. The wig was this big issue in and of itself. And my daughter spent the entire night without it because of the heat. This is definitely not a wig-friendly country (more on that later). So at the start of the evening I really wanted to throw some fits like my eight-year-old was. But suddenly everything changed. For me the turning point was standing outside my house and seeing a couple stars overhead, listening to this classic song from my past, and knowing that my daughter was having a great time. In our Filipino neighborhood.

Get on up there...

Challenged by my daughter and cousin to get on the trampoline, what could I do? I had not been on a tramp since I was about fifteen, but my daughter was learning to do flips. Surely I could manage a seat bounce.

I had to take my scarf off though. I knew it would go flying, and that is infinitely more embarrassing than taking it off of my own volition.

My cousin's daughter didn't bat an eye! She was more concerned about my jumping technique (which was pretty rusty).

Now, a few years ago I would not have gotten on that tramp. I would have been afraid of falling off, afraid of making a fool of myself. Now, I just want to have a little fun, do my best, and say I did something.

It's the same with my bald head. A few years ago, I would never have done something that required me to take my scarf off in front of people. Now, I just don't care. Feeling the sun and wind on my head is way better than sweating under a scarf cap.

Life is good when you lose inhibitions. Get on up there.