First Impressions

Today we flew down to Dumaguete City and "checked in" to our rooms at the Little Children of the Philippines compound.  I've got a nice little room with a private shower (cold water only, but that's okay 'cause it's HOT).  Alana and Jacques were dismayed however, as all the stuff they'd stashed in their room 3 weeks ago was moldy!

The other source of stress is that there is some snafu around giving our students an official receipt.  There was some sort of threat that the workshop would not happen and all the people who might be able to deal with it were away.  Poor Alana was a bit freaked out.

But I had a shock myself when we went to look at the room.  It's up a long flight of concrete stairs and has big windows opening to the street.  No glass, just metal bars.  Across the street is a big 10 day festival going on.  There was LOUD music booming in through the windows.

At first I didn't get were the sound was even coming from, but I heard Alana ask our guide if she thought the music would be happening for the next three days.  Answer: Yes!  Holy shit.  I'm supposed to somehow teach with that racket going on?

They said not to worry, I'll have a PA system.  Oh goodie.  Apparently this is the only room available.  So I'll just have to do my best.  It helps that I'm not making any money at all on the event.  In fact, I'm actually paying to teach them.  Takes some of the pressure off somehow.

The really cool thing was coming back to the LCP and getting to meet a bunch of the kids here.  Really sweet.  Mostly I talked with four little girls, who were older than they looked, at 12, 13, 14, and 15 years old.  They asked me tons of questions and were happy to answer mine.  All of these kids lives have been touched by real tragedy.  Many are orphans, some from families that were too poor to care for them.  Some rescued from abusive parents.  

In that sense they are very much like the kids I worked with for the first ten years of my career.  Only a lot more respectful and sweet!

Apparently there is a custom to show respect for elders.  When I met them they would take my hand and then touch their forehead to it.  One little boy sat right up next to me and was pulling on the blond hair on my forearms.  It almost hurt, but I let him do it anyway.

It seems that Filipinos as a rule are very aware of skin color.  And of course lighter is better.  Dark skin means you work outside in the fields and are poor.  Low status.  Sad but true.  I'm finally in a place where my inability to tan is a benefit!

I guess this is a really big deal here.  When we got off the plane we had to walk down stairs and across the tarmac.  The airline handed out umbrellas so people could avoid the sunshine!
The major mode of transportation here is the trike.  It's powered by a little motorcycle with a covered seating contraption attached.  It's got a windscreen on the front, but it's very open air.  Lots of noise and smog.  We caught one at the airport, the three of us with all our luggage.  Just as I began to ask "are we really going to fit in that thing?" the driver grabbed the luggage of another family of three and the SIX of us, with all our luggage, crammed into and onto the thing.  Astonishing.

I had three trips today in these things.  It's almost impossible to understand how we didn't crash about 380 times.  There aren't any stoplights.  The drivers, pedestrians, cars, buses, trucks and all just somehow merge in what looks like the embodiment of chaos.

It's 6pm.  The sun just set, as it is want to do in the tropics.  No internet.  A big training tomorrow.  More Filipino style chaos ahead.
rob out.