Relocation: part 1

2001 was the year I moved back to the states. I was saying goodbye to life in a third-world section of the Philippines. During my stay there, a period of three years, Nelson Mandela stepped down as president of South Africa, Mad Cow disease struck Europe, Stanley Kubrick died at 70, Oklahoma bomber, Timothy McVeigh, was executed, and the United States was attacked by terrorists. These are some of the moments in history significant enough to permeate the fluctuating dynamic infused by world politics. This is history as it rests across the entire world spectrum, outside the influences of a particular nation or community.

In my province in the philippines, it was a big deal, when Filipino boxer, Pacquiao, faced off against Ledwaba. The Abu Sayyaf rebels also received more news coverage, as did former actor, Joseph Estrada’s presidency. No matter where in the world, the news is going to lose emphasis or be magnified to some extent by nationalism. Nothing is absolute. Eventually, history will solidify a event in time, but even then, mass agreement will only be relative to the masses.

My own personal history was spent acclimatizing to a uniformed private school, 1 billion grains of rice, a glass of Catholicism with every meal, the black market, and media that was always 6 months behind the United States. Keeping up with the world means living in a country that exports more than it imports.

I was enrolled into St. Louise de Marillac private school the first day of my arrival. I had a girlfriend by the second day, who agreed to teach me Tagalog, the country’s first language, and Bicol, the region’s dialect. In the philippines, you couldn’t go 25 miles without having to learn a new dialect. Grace was sweet, hasty, and short-lived. She had drinks with me after school at a local bar. The place looked like one of those stands set up along the beach, where all the drinks come with little umbrellas and the men wore hawaiian shirts and the women had flowers in their hair. She told me she loved me. Our relationship lasted 3 days. Like they say- easy come, easy go.

We left for home on a Trike. That was their name for a motorcycle with a sidecar. 5 pesos one way. Goodbye, Grace. See you in another life.

The above photo was taken by jikamajoja and is used under the creative commons license.