No, Really, I Am an American

Time: Unknown
Place: Somewhere over the continental US
Destination: Tokyo, Japan
Date: Uh…I think it’s Nov. 4th..I know it’s Friday…that counts for something, right?

There are two men in my life I have become incredibly dependent upon. The first one I love very dearly…I could pretty much say that I’m in love with him the same way that I am Serenity. I protect him fiercely, I’m almost overprotective, really. He is my beloved.

The second has only recently come into my life. I was hell bent on not liking him – he was taking someone else’s place and I was pretty sure I wouldn’t like the change. I realized how ridiculous I was being and finally gave him a chance – it was only fair. Of course, his name has certainly endeared him to me more than “somewhat” — and he didn’t have to muss up anyone’s face to do it. Yeah, he’s pretty swank.

These are the men in my life. Pathetic and borderline unhealthy, I know. But it doesn’t make it any less true. I depend on them…my beloved John and my darling Mal…

I depend on them if anything to know the gorram time! Damn, I need a watch!

Thus begins the Misadventures of an Obviously American Cousin…

—
Time: Later…1:35 PM apparently
Place: Somewhere over Canada
Destination: Tokyo, Japan
Date: Pretty sure it’s still Friday…

Wow. International travel has certainly changed. Then again, the last time I flew out of the US, I was fifteen and on my way to Europe. They have these TVs build into the arm rests or head rests even in coach…even in the back of the plane! Pretty swank. I’m surprised I’m not taking advantage of the choice – and they do let you choose your movie.

There’s not a lot of people on this flight so being in the center aisle ain’t so bad – there are three whole seats between my mom and me. Lots of room to spread out some stuff. The seats are also bigger…or maybe it’s really just that it’s been so long they seem bigger.

There’s this screen in the front — like the kind you used to watch the movies on — and it just flashes information now: location, altitude, etc. I’ve seen all the screen now, in English and in Japanese, and I’m still fascinated by the bloomin’ thing.

Lots of things have changed in travel over ten years. It’s a toss up between being impressed and being daunted at how much technology has come to rule our lives.

At least one thing is still the same: the food is still questionable. Two things made it tolerabe — Pepsi and the not too crappy Kappa roll. The airline sushi was better than the actual entree. Does that seem right to you?

—
Time: Back to unknown
Place: Last time the screen was on, we were somewhere over Alaska fast approaching the Strait
Destination: Still Tokyo
Date: Friday…I think…we’re approaching that part of the world where the day starts over or goes ahead or something. Still not as cool as when it happens in Tru Calling but that may be because I’m biased (and going to hell)…

Score. The lunch box thing the lady handed me has M&Ms. Seriously. It’s just this box. Not nearly as cool as the ones with cartoon characters, but it sure is pretty. I’m going to keep it. AND I got another Pepsi. Sweet.

—
Time: Several hours into unknown
Place: Not on a deserted quirky semi-haunted LOST island but still on the gorram plane
Destination: Still Tokyo…although I would laugh if that’s not where we end up
Date: Still need a watch

Soofa bitch…I just finished Summer Sisters. I’m not even on the damn layover location and I’m already one book down. I knew I should have brought more books.

Anyway…about the book. Definitely the breeze read I had been craving. Me Da would be so proud of me for not abandoning the book despite certain events. :blush:

Now the question becomes: Read or Die…er, I mean Read or Write? I still think I’m screwed in Delamont. Shot myself in the foot as it were. Soofa bitch…

—
Time: About 7:00PM in Chicago…according to the clocks in the lobby
Place: Excel Hotel Tokyu (no, that’s how it’s spelled)
Destination: Soon to be Narita Airport, Tokyo
Date: We lost a day somewhere, so in my head it’s Saturday but honestly, I don’t know

I think my body knows it’s not in the States. I thought I’d be tired as hell since I didn’t really sleep on the plane…not so much. And after getting to the hotel still nothing. I thought I’d be hungry, too…but I don’t have much of an appetite either. I ate breakfast if anything because I know I’ll be hungry later.

So far, my first time in Japan is uneventful. It’s just a layover, after all. It’s a good thing I can get by in my Nihongo cuz I’ve already had to translate for my mom.

I finally get to stay in a hotel and it’s kinda boring. The only English channel is CNN…although, I watched this French movie for a spell. It’s kind of fun making things up for myself.

The shower was pretty swank. None of those little bottles but rather a dispenser so you can lather as much as you want without having to ration. Yeah, okay, random observation but I have one thing that I’m vain about and that’s my hair. Silly, desu ne?

It’s also been established that I’m financially screwed when I move here in January (or February) — or rather, I’ll starve. Guess I’ll pack a lot of pop corn.

—
Time: 2:00…maybe 3:00 in the afternoon Japan Time
Place: Northwest World Class Lounge
Destination: Manila, Philippines
Date: Sunday the 6th of November…apparently

Dude, this is pretty rockin’. We’re flying business class the rest of the way and apparently you get to hang out in this lounge because of it. There’s a food bar thing and PEPSI!!! VERY swank.

They also have this pretentious music playing… very Muzak…borderline Richard Walker’s. Hilarious. :smacks Grant in the arm:

—
Time: 6:10 PM Filipino time
Place: My cousin’s office
Destination: Camp John Hay, Baguio City, Philippines
Date: Tuesday

I lost track of how long I’ve been without writing…so I think I’ve been here two days…or something. Catching up from my last post:

Grant — What the heck did you do to yourself?
Chris O — About those pictures…
Al — HI LUV!! I miss you! Are you home yet?
Mark — Hah. That’s all I’m sayin’ and I know you’ll understand. Hah.
Anyone else reading this — still not dead.

Okay. Recap: Just for the record, Japan has the best process ever when boarding planes. Everyone just crowds to the front. None of this board by class or section crap. Ever so efficient. Best. Process. Ever. :sigh:

And then there’s the Philippines. The airport. The baggage claim full of boxes. The way you meet your families across the street based on the alphabetical order of your last name. The way you drive on the street. It’s all so…Filipino. I know Mark understands without question what I mean. As for you non-Brown, let’s just say you would all die if you didn’t have a Filipino guide of some kind. Heck, I know that I’m screwed if I ever want to visit after my parents pass away. I think it’s pretty safe to say that this is my last trip to the Philippines.

But the whole point was to see my family and that’s what counts. Before I get there, though:

My Kuya Joon (June? Jun?) drove my mom and me to the hotel where we were staying. Manila driving is worse than ANY city driving I have ever experienced. Seriously. I thought we were gonna die a couple times and not because of my Kuya’s driving!

Anyway, the point is we ain’t takin’ what belongs to…er, I mean, when we got to the place, my dad met us downstairs. It was weird. We hugged. My dad and I hugged . And the quirky thing about it was it wasn’t awkward. He gave out orders to the staff and they followed his instructions in such a way that made me think of him as a man to respect in this country. Like he was used to doing this…as if we have servants to spare where we come from. I couldn’t help but feel like the daughter of an important man. Sounds crazy, I know…but I think it may also have something to do with the fact that I know my dad’s side have a certain amount of money in this country.

The room was pretty big. It was very…Philippines. I wasn’t supposed to use the faucet water when brushing my teeth, though and that brought me back to reality. All the traveling started to catch up with me and I pretty much crashed…

We checked out of the hotel not long after getting up. Once again, that whole “important family” thing came back when my family’s driver came to pick us up at the hotel. My uncle Tony had him sent from Baguio City to fetch us. But first, there was breakfast.

I’m not gonna lie. Manila City is…dirty. We were meeting my dad’s school friend in Filipino Chinatown, not that different from any other Chinatown…just dirtier. On the way there, we saw the squatters and it was just like I remembered — tin roofs, dilapidated frames, bathing anywhere that there was semi-decent water. I made sure to stay close to my dad as we walked from the parking gravel (yes, gravel) to the restaurant, stepping where he stepped and dodging beggers and vendors as he did. (When we were driving away, my mom confessed to me that she can’t believe she used to swim in the overflow of water that would sometimes run off. Yeah, as in possibly sewage water. I muttered, “And you wouldn’t let me play with the neighborhood kids in the park…”)

Of course, heaven forbid we eat a normal breakfast. Well, my parents anyway. I totally got scrambled eggs and toast. The roasted pork tasted a lot like ham (”Sure, Lisa…some magical animal…”). Coffee wasn’t too shabby either, but once again, the reality of where I was made itself present when we wiped down the utensils and the plates. (You gotta do that everywhere you go here.)

The drive to Baguio City was going to be six gorram hours. Six. Seeing the Filipino not-in-a-main-city life (can’t say “country” can’t say “suburb”) reminded me why my parents came to America. I can’t really put to words what it was like, just that I know I am very fortunate and comfortable. Culture shock.

We ate a place called Max’s. I wanted to try Jollibee’s, a burger place that is number one in the country — the Philippines is the only country in the world that has McDonald’s in second place when it comes to fast food. But Max’s was…um…quaint, for lack of a better term. The bathroom was tolerable, I didn’t even need to use the toilet paper I brought. They actually had some of their own.

After leaving “civilization” I was reminded of the location of Baguio City — up in the frickin’ mountains. But the drive up was pretty, even with the colorful villages along the way. It was actually pretty cool. There are waterfalls and people swim in the river and springs (and do their laundry).

When we pulled up to my uncle’s hotel, the further travels were catching up with me. I would have crashed if I had the chance, but alas, no. The whole purpose of this trip had yet to come to pass.

The first thing I noticed about our room, besides the fact that I got my own room (it’s more of an apartment, really complete with a small kitchen) was the smell — hence the previous post. There is definitely an odor: musty and old and a very not America. I was wishing for a scented candle, or a match…Febreeze…

The most important thing was meeting my grandmother, dottering and forgetful though she may be, it was important to me. She kept forgetting who I was and asked my name about every ten minutes, but it’s all good. I got to see my last living grandma. (She lives here at the hotel in the apartelle across the way from our room.)

After a very Chinese dinner, my parents and I walked up and down the street. My dad put his arm around me and said that he wants to take me to a bakla.

“Doesn’t that mean gay?” (There was this part of me that constricted a little.)

“Yeah, but they do the best hair.”

Incidentally, since it’s the day after this remark, I got my hair done. And yes, he was “bakla” — he wore heels better than I do! I don’t know how I feel about it yet, really. I can’t tie it back anymore. :-/

So far the most important thing I’ve learned about being here is that I don’t belong. I am VERY American.

But I get to go horseback riding tomorrow and go to the bakery that my uncle owns.

Wait. No. The most important thing so far is getting down on paper my dad’s side of the family as far back as we can trace given our limitations. I had no idea that the woman with my grandmother was my aunt. My dad is ever so good about these sorts of things. (He didn’t even tell my grandmother we were coming and we’re playing a lot of this trip by ear.)

Back to boredom. Actually, I’ve written so Chris, hopefully there will be something to post when I get back Stateside.