The Joys of Minesweeper

Nothing like playing Minesweeper on the biggest level to pass the time waiting for pictures to load, but its working today so here you go!
This would be my office. No worries, the phantom chair in the picture doesn't actually exist, its just what happens when I merge pictures that are actually on a curve into a straight line. It still gives you a really good idea of what the office looks like. You enter via the door on the right and the other door is the Municipal Planning and Development Corrdinator's (MPDC) office, ie my supervisor.
My desk is just to the right of the MPDC's office and this is a slightly dated picture of what my wall looks like. Notice the post cards. Yes people do in fact send me post cards and yes I do enjoy them a lot! My address is even on the sidebar to the right now... I've got the other two or three I've recieved up there now as well, no worries there. That's all for today though as its closing time and I'm off to work on my other home for the evening. Enjoy!

Visions of Gandhi

No, the title doesn't exactly have a whole lot of correlation with the post, but there are visions and it's a great music album.
Here are just a few pictures of the start of my home.
The first is the very beginnings of a kitchen, its not much but it gets the job done. I've actually added quite a bit over the past two days, so expect an update on this one soon. Its amazing how much of a difference a table can make...

The second picture would be the first thing I unpacked upon arrival. My books also easily make up the majority of items I currently own by weight and compete only with my clothes by volume. Even with the library currently closed, at least I can't complain of ever being bored!

Once and Future Home

I promise that I'm not depriving ya'll of visuals from lack of trying. This will be the 5th or 6th attempt to put up some pictures of my very recently vacated room at the Martian's.

Here when I found out I was posted to the mountains I thought I'd never see the ocean. But with my luck I had to joy of waking up to it every morning. The best of both worlds!!

6'x8' of home. I'm sitting on the bed for the first picture, the next is taken from the door way.

Attempt number four at this particular picture still isn't perfect, but its better. They come up thisway about half the time so I'm going to go ahead and post it. You get the idea...
One of the guests at my house blessing said he got some good shots and would email them to me, so when those come along I'll put them up as well! Enjoy.

Sharing House with the Bones of a Chicken

Here I sit. Listening to my Philippines play list over a set of speakers. Drinking a cup of hot milk with water boiled on my stove. Surveying my new domain. Today is the best day so far I have had in the Philippines and while there have been a lot of ups and downs I’d say I’ve had quite a few good days. But today I have my own roof to sleep under and it very much feels like home. A long line of books on the shelf. A frisbee hanging from a nail with my climbing shoes, chalk bag and lenchum (g-string, native attire) on the roof beam above. Go board and stones in the corner. A broom hanging from another nail. Shoes in a haphazard stack by the door and the beginnings of a kitchen forming in the corner opposite my “bed room.” Home it very much is. A recently and properly blessed home at that.

Tonight is my first night sleeping in my new abode, the first night anyone has officially taken up residence here. To commemorate the occasion councilor Jim Jim, all of 26 and one of around 4 people left who know the native rituals enough to be considered a native priest, held a house blessing ritual for me and my home. We picked tonight to coincide with the visit of a group of Japanese from the “Save the Ifugao Rice Terraces” group so they could witness the old culture as well.

The ritual was fairly simple. Both councilor Jim Jim and I donned our lenchum’s and a small fire was brought inside my native house as well as a small stack of symbolic items. Rice to symbolize a bountiful harvest for me and my family. One of my shirts. A young betel nut and hapid leaf for male and female. A bolo for hunting and harvest. The ritual began with a significant amount of prayer and calling upon the Creator and my dead grandparents by name. After some time a native chicken was brought in and sacrificed. Further blessings were said as I turned my back to receive them on the back of my head and then the councilor took the chicken outside and blessed the dwelling, asking protection from typhoons, earthquakes, lightening and other such calamities. -After the chicken was de-feathered and opened the councilor read the bile for a final sign of acceptance by the ancestors and Creator on my taking up residence in the house. This brought the official close of the ceremony.

The entire time had a wonderful mix of solemn and light heartedness as occasional bits of the prayers were explained to all of us and jokes were exchanged. I think my favorite part was after the initial prayers, when we started to de-feather the chicken councilor Jim Jim started chewing moma and spitting through a large crack in the floor. I find the mix of the sacred and normal life is often missed inside the overly serious context of most Christian churches. To finish the blessing the males cooked up the chicken inside and we ate all of it, placing the bones in a bag in the upper part to signify that this house has been blest. I am not supposed to shower, have sex or eat vegetables until sundown tomorrow and in the morning I will sweep the small pile of ash and such debris out the door. I am still not sure of all the significances of this, but the ritualistic nature of the ordeal further heightened my sense of finally settling home. It also a wonderful exercise to spend time contemplating those who have gone before you and paved the way for the life I am currently living. I have a lot I owe to my grandparents that I know about, and many many times more that I’m sure I don’t know about. Remembering others who have gone before me into the mystery also centers the soul and provides a deepened sense of purpose and responsibility. Feelings of home and family also transport my own family here with me to take up residence. I think my mother would be proud with the current state of organization and cleanliness :op Hopefully it will stay that way.

A Disclaimer of Sorts

Persistence Pays
“What counts most is holding on. The growth of a train of thought is not a direct forward flow. There is a succession of spurts separated by intervals of stagnation, frustration, & discouragement. If you hold on, there is bound to come a certain clarification. The unessential components drop off & a coherent, lucid whole begins to take shape.”

Eric Hoffer, the Longshoreman Philosopher, excerpt from notebook 1961

Swimming Pools & Quiet Mornings

Youthful vigor combines with an American drive to always be doing something in interesting ways. Especially when exposed in such a naked and revealing context. Placed in a fishbowl & left to swim in circles banging its head on the glass occasionally glancing out at the desert around; transported to strange surroundings which sits back and watches the murky water patiently. Waiting to see if this particular fish learns to breathe the air or just goes home after the water has all evaporated to spread tales of the crazy new world it has seen. Becoming just another abandoned fish bowl in a long line of attempts to “help.”

& that’s the importance of the cup of coffee that I contemplate over this morning (switching to a cup of hot powdered milk. There’s only so much caffeine a particular morning can tolerate.) I’m slowly learning what it means to simply sit & exist. A process started in a completely different set of rural mountains much closer to home. The ability to simple look out on the world & become comfortable in my current mental configuration. How rarely the above mentioned attributes allow me to do that. To sit and exist. Especially in this new desert. The bowl is quite small & it takes time & conscious effort to widen the circle of comfortable bounds within which I can operate successfully. Fitting bits and pieces of strange flora & fauna where a close approximation once was. A cup of instant coffee where it used to be brewed. But until a compromise between wet & dry realities is worked out most of my days are spent in various degrees of instability, navigating completely new and strange situations. It prevents the stagnation of heart & mind in narrow routines and patterns anyway…

When I’m constantly racing, as I’ve always done, the only way to really settle into a new situation is by blundering through enough that it gains a degree of familiarity. Even actively studying the culture & thinking & processing events & writing here & employing my Community Entry tools… all of that is still part of the race. Still trying to go somewhere. Still doing something. Even my cup of hot milk is doing something, but at least lifting cup to mouth and sipping is a well enough ingrained activity it distracts little from the real task of not having one. Even that particular written manifestation misses the point. Casting the morning time as an active attempt. That’s part of the trick I guess. If I’m trying, its not working. Maybe that’s why mornings such as this are still so scarce for this 23 year old American…

Originally Written 09.20.05

Existential Diving in Erratic Directions

Where exactly is it that I’m trying to get to all the time? Its definitely not a cohesive coherent picture of a destination, but I like to think the various quarter formed pictures of future realities all pointing in the same general direction. At least I hope so. Sometimes its hard to imagine how its all going to work out. I mean, in some ways, its easy; various paths & options will slowly drop away. Time keeps moving, the inevitable leveling ground of all ambitions. But I’d rather those narrowings of scope be by choice & not neglect or simply being overwhelmed by it all and go for a practical, immediately on hand experience.

For example, where does the really fascinating world of diving fit into the reality of a mountain bound PCV? Knowledge & skills are always tempting & so, I admit, looking at the flow chart of dive trainings and certifications rouses a certain desire to reach expert levels, or at least go farther. So many amazing worlds, realities, exist on this planet. One cannot possible partake of all of them. The debate between a Jack of all trades, master of none and Mark Twight’s satirical diatribe:

“Live with commitment. With emotional content. Live whatever life you choose honestly. Give up this renaissance man, dilettante bullshit of doing a lot of things (and none of them very well by real standards). Get to the guts of one thing; accept, without casuistry, the responsibility of making a choice. When you live honestly, you can not separate your mind from your body, or your thoughts from your actions.”
Kiss or Kill: Confessions of a Serial Climber, p. 150

I guess I’m more just trying to build some middle ground. Or maybe not. Upon actually going and finding that quote in full maybe I’m just looking for an acceptable definition of that one thing. Combine Kiss or Kill with In the Shadow of ‘Just War’ and there is a glimmer of a future. A return to a place where I no longer think but act and fire out of bed every morning conquering the world with my first inhalation of breathe.

Ahhh… many thanks to the Frenchman who just actualized my current desire to chain smoke with my bottle of “cheap” Chilean wine & exploding thoughts from an over-isolated brain. Back to the question at hand – more pointedly,

What’s the drive?
Always onward!
To where?

The continuous balancing act of looking forward and striving for… something, a better humanness I guess, whatever that is… & enjoy the present for all its grandness & wonders (for the present is always grand & wondrous if you look in the right places with the right mindset).

Maybe that’s the question. What is the something? I love knowledge, especially exploring & learning how to operate in different realities. “Broadening horizons” learning how to relate with different people on their home turf, their terrain, their language & comfort levels. (their language… part of why this is such a challenging job. Not part, the reason for me. I’ve never faced such a conclusive language barrier.) I even smoke my infrequent cigarettes fast & deep. That’s the way I like to take part in life. Even that occasional vice comes from trying to understand another concept. Originally started because of a role from Acting Theory/ Performance I of a smoker and my inability to handle a cigarette during the scenes (its just not convincing with you drop the cigarette out the window while trying to ash) and a the desire to have a degree of comfort with it. Just another world/people/culture, another skill. But why? What’s the point? Where does it all lead? End? Does it matter?

And once again the vacillating points of view comes into clarity as with one breathe I want to dive to the depths of one thing and live it deeply and intensely, and in the next I want to skim the surface of everything and peer inside. I want to be able to flit between realities and be comfortable in all of them. More than anything I think I want to make sure I’m not missing that place where I will truly call my own. That is the search. That is what drives me on. To get back to that place where I know the rules and can improvise on a dime and am acting instead of thinking. Living instead of sitting in an office thinking about development or typing rants about life in front of a computer. At the same time I want to be in the place now and I realize that there is a road to be traveled to get there. I have yet to find where it starts.

And my current frustrations with diving are such a clear example of the games my mind plays. Its hard to do more than scratch the surface of diving when you’re with a group that has a difficult time mastering the simple combination of movements involved in clearing a mask. It’s a tough spot because while I don’t fault them & respect anyone willing to try, I also want to move faster “dive deeper” & I have to battle with the annoyance of moving at a pace much slower than I am capable of. That’s the 1st obstacle to harmonizing my current reality with desires for the further & progress & learning more than the basics shown to all wannabe-diver tourists dabbling their feet in the water. I want to get to some understanding of the essence of a reality. A place where I can glimpse the depths & make semi-informed decisions of how far into that reality I want to go. I want to challenge my body and mind & stretch in new directions. Even if I don’t take the plunge off the wall into the blue I want to find a natural mental state that meets such challenges as the present & quickly ditches the annoyance & continues to create something satisfying out of the present even if its not the ideal or expected. You have to live to learn I suppose & now… to a much needed phone call…



Originally written 09.19.05 Panglao, Bohol
edited with the Mark Twight quote and hopefully adding a degree of coherence in the midst of another degree of confusion 10.12.05

Ranting for Life

Some things definitely seem to be universal across the globe. Some of them are those touchy feely ideas of humanity & good will & smiles, but our interconnectedness also brings with it some of the less appealing parts of life.

Where has the SPARK gone? Or was it ever there in the 1st place? Did our ancestors ever feel that drive & desire to jump up & down in the streets shouting at the heavens or do back flips for the shear joy of being alive & breathing & moving & for the chance seize all that there is in life?

It’s the inertia of the human race that amazes & depresses me, or I guess more pointedly & accurately makes me feel so different… isolated… there are so many parts of this world I don’t really belong to. Often I can muster some vague energy of interest for the sake of community & friendship but it never approaches the dim glow of the banked coals of passion lurking in the recesses of my mind waiting for the sudden, subtle, spark to set them blazing again. A book, The Motorcycle Diaries, and the reminder of the life of a revolutionary. A song by Ani Difranco, so full of anguish & life that it can still bring me to rage & tears after 100 plays. Other times it passes as mere background to the more mundane concerns of everyday life in a world & community not of my own creation, but of my own choosing. At least the choice to step off the end of that long pier & land, literally, on the other side of the world.

Even here evenings are passes staring at the TV. Basketball, really bad action movies, reality shows. Afternoons slide by to pool & cards or sitting outside a sari-sari store watching the world go by. I don’t find fault or judge such behavior, its just that I don’t understand it. It is so foreign. I want to feel alive on the planet. To move, to exist, to feel. Not to escape life. I don’t even know where I’m going, or necessarily why, but I want to go!! To embrace life in all its magnificence & tragedy. Not sheltered from it by moving colors & lights in a box depicting how happy & fairytale life everything can be.

originally written 8.28.05

TGIF?

What do you do when you find yourself in a videoke bar with your fellow co-workers who have been playing volleyball all day and drinking since noon; trapped in by the pouring rain with the videoke machine out of commission? Why send a text to 14 of your fellow volunteers and see what’s happening in the rest of the archipelago! Here’s a few choice responses and the original text:

“Nothing like being held captive by t pouring rain w a broken videoke machine n your plastered co-workers…”

Ben Gardner – “haha.. gud times chief! How about trying to cook dinner w 1 pot and a pocket knife.. Ill let you know if I get any serious burns.”

Mark Bushinski – “Maybe ear plugs should be part of the med kit.”

Bec the Aussie – “Im goin 2 dinner wid Vanesa n Cherl den VIDEOKE! Wid kiwi .. Ohw its better 2 b me! How r t visuals?”

Colin Forman – “I’d take that over enduring a 9 hr bus ride…”

Further Conversation with Ben:

G - “That’s awesome! I’ll be in that boat next week. Happy to move anyway. At least your scars will have a good story eh?”

Ben – “As long as it’s a cool scar and nothing2 narly… Being away is great but I just discovered my neighbor likes2 blare songs similar3 barbie world loud as possible.”

G - “Wow! Even better! Scalding yourself while cooking to bad music. Life is grand. At least they aren’t singing it at t top of their lungs…”

Ben – “ur such an optimist haha! Tkcre bud gotta get back to my cuisine.”

G - “Oh God… and t videoke finally comes back on. Is t situation going to improve or deteriorate?”

Ben – “Things can only get better w videoke!”

G - “Happy cooking!”

And from one of those fellow co-workers:

Peter – “Just enjoy”
– “Never mind them. This is life in our simple t0wn”

Ben is right, things do only get better with videoke. The dead time afforded me a chance to look through an entire song book and finally actually encode some songs and numbers into my phone for future reference. The trick to videoke is to have a few stock songs you can sing and just belt them out and then occasionally explore a new title or two. It’s a good time once you relax and enjoy yourself. Now where have I encountered that phrase before?

Girls Leading Our World

Gender dynamics, in any culture, at any time, are always fascinating to watch and I had a particularly interesting situation to observe today on my way out of work. It appears that two very drunk men had a disagreement resulting in one wanting to pummel the other in the middle of the plaza. So with much posturing and following around the two created quite the scene. Luckily there were plenty of men around to make sure the situation didn’t get too far out of hand and many of them did their best to diffuse the situation by trying to talk the two men down. Even so, they did end up mixing it up a bit, but that was quickly broken up by the growing group of onlookers.

The situation wasn’t totally in hand though, until a woman, whom I assume was the wife of the man instigating the tussle, appeared on the scene and proceeded to escalate into a quite upset and vocal state aimed at her husband. His posturing continued and he remained in his own agitated state, but I also noticed he no longer truly tried to follow his target as she alternated between standing in front of him, yelling at him and pushing him back to standing behind him, yelling at him, and pulling on the back of his shirt. When I left the scene he was sitting down still yelling about his perceived wronging, but the other man had finally succeeded in walking away without pursuit.

Woman in this culture tend to be on the quiet side, calmly taking care of most of the work, especially in the home. They are also, historically, the ones who harvest the rice, allowing the men can stay home and guard the house and children from attack. It’s a more mixed crowd now, but I still observe women doing the bulk of the work. They certainly aren’t the ones sitting around the plaza drinking, or playing endless games of pool. In a culture where men still hold most of the public offices and act as the head of the house, you can still catch rare glimpses of a much more balanced power dynamic than appears on the surface.

PS GLOW Camps are a Peace Corps creation designed to empower woman. And yes, that is my T-Shirt!

PC Paper Work = Home!

After spending a good chunk of time on the phone with PC.HQ I finally have all the proper paperwork and approval to move into my new home! This involves no less than three seperate forms and a personal visit from HQ. No visit yet, but my lovely Regional Manager (RM) Sheila Chan has given the temporary OK to move until final approval has been granted. That's her last act as my RM too, as she switches over to the Education Sector Manager position which recently opened up. That makes two brand new RMs since we've arrived (Sheila started in May).

Now all I have to do is rectify the small issue of the fact that my new home is completely EMPTY! Looks like there's going to be a trip to Santiago City for supplies sometime soon.

One of the really cool features of the Ifugao native house is that it was originally constructed without using any nails. This allowed them to be taken apart and moved if there was a need, such as the Japanese coming through burning everything at the end of WWII. Most of the native houses now use some nails (to keep the floor boards from being pushed up allowing easy entry for example) and also sport a GI tin roof. Less expensive in the long run, but also allows for a lot more transfer of heat and cold and I can't imagine the noise during some of the heavy rains we get here. There should be plenty more pictures to come too! At least I think I've got this whole gig figured out...

Computer Generation

I’ve have come to admit exactly how much my life revolves around a computer. Its not that I cannot survive without one, but I thrive on the efficiency and speed that one provides. Upon arriving back at site from my three weeks of training and vacation all the pieces finally clicked into place to allow my laptop onto the net with Outlook up and running. This involved my wonderful parents sending over an ethernet adapter card for my laptop and then getting all the right configurations between my computer and the office network set up. Being able to download my mail and then read it off-line is infinitely times quicker than waiting for each page to load on the slow connection we have. And being able to work at home and then just upload everything is amazing!

I keep saying its the small things that make all the difference. Bits and pieces of how I’m used to operating in the States which can be imported here allow me to feel more comfortable, work more efficiently and therefore be of more help. I truly believe that finding those little bits of home really makes adapting that much easier too. I got back into town Thursday afternoon and I spent most of the weekend organizing and setting up my laptop to really be a useful tool while I’m here. It provides so many resources that I’m used to using from my college days; a calendar, contacts book, and the ability to write emails while I’m at home all make a huge difference. After a busy day at the office putting the final touches on the paper work I need to officially move to my native house and then finishing the transfer of all my files to my laptop I’ve noticed an appreciable rise in energy levels and attitude as well. I feel like I’ve actually been able to sink my teeth into a task and get something done, even if its just organizing and setting up for the next stage of starting projects. Now if I could just do the same with something community related…

I think a lot of it has to do with being able to take control over a small part of my own life again. For so long now I’ve been tossing in the wind of a new culture trying to find my bearings. Whether its when I eat, or how much of what’s been going on the past three weeks (not to mention daily) someone cares to tell me. I’ve been spending far to much time allowing circumstances to dictate my life. Part of that is definitely necessary to find some of the boundaries of a new culture and to learn the rules, and part of that is out of my control (though how I do wish I could open up brains and take a look) but a more balanced approach is greatly improving sanity levels. Now after I line up all the tangibles to turn my empty native house into a home I’ll really be set to take off! … Then in a month I’ll be sick of cooking again and it will be back to reality, but for now I’m really excited for the prospect. Ah… the roller coaster ride continues. Was it really just this last Friday that I felt so down and out on this whole gig? What will tomorrow bring I wonder? Hopefully my mail for starters. The joys of an absentee postperson…

Full Quote

“So, the coin was tossed, turned somersaults; sometimes coming up heads, sometimes tails. Man, the measure of all things, speaks through my mouth and recounts in my own words what my eyes saw. Out of ten possible heads, I may have only seen one tail, or vice versa: there are no excuses; my mouth says what my eyes told it. Was our view too narrow, too biased, too hasty, were our conclusions too rigid? Maybe so, but this is how the typewriter interprets the disparate impulses which made you press the keys, and those fleeting impulses are dead. Besides, no one is answerable to them. The person who wrote these notes died the day he stepped back on Argentine soil. The person who is reorganizing and polishing them, me, is no longer me, at least I’m not the me I was. Wandering around our ‘America with a capital A’ has changed me more than I thought.

Any book on photographic technique can show you the image of a nocturnal landscape with the full moon shining and the accompanying text reveal the secret of this sunlit darkness. But the reader doesn’t really know what kind of sensitive fluid covers my retina, I’m hardly award of it myself, so you can’t examine the plate to find out the actual moment it was taken. If I present a nocturnal picture, you have to take it or leave it, it’s not important. Unless you actually know the landscape my diary photographed, you’ve no option but to accept my version. I now leave you with myself, the man I once was…”
~Ernesto Guevara, The Motorcycle Diaries - Introduction