Stinky fruit

The Philippines boasts myriad tantalizing tropical fruits. Some fruits grace North American and European grocery store shelves: yellow mango, banana (of all sizes), pineapple, papaya. Other fruits are harder to find outside of tropical countries, especially in their non-juice, non-dried form. Some examples include: mangosteen, breadfruit, lanzones, rambutan, jackfruit. Sadly (for tropical fruit gastronomes based in colder climes), the quality of such fruits diminishes rapidly with intercontinental travel, so a Philippine mango consumed in Canada is nowhere near as lami (Visayan word for delicious or sweet) as one consumed in the Philippines.

Of the more unusual fruit sold at local roadside fruit stands (and found in our fruit bowl), are two kinds that fall into the "stinky fruit" category:  marang and durian. 

Durian, in particular, emits an odour that is not merely mildly unpleasant, but (to many people) full on repulsive. For example, an ice cream parlour in Madison, Wisconsin once tried to create a durian-flavoured ice cream. Apparently, a neighbouring business, unfamiliar with the smell, called the fire department, complaining of a gas leak. After the arrival of fire trucks and a bomb squad, the parlour abandoned its recipe experimentation.

Personally, I consider other smells much more offensive (e.g. hockey gloves that have not been washed for several months or a car full of wet kayak gear in a July heat-wave). Frank disagrees. And so too, apparently, do many hotels and airlines, who single out durian and marang as banned substances. 

Lobby display at the Marigold Hotel in CDO

Here's an introduction to these two stinky fruits. 

A pile of marang 

Marang (Artocarpus odoratissimus) grows on a tree indigenous to the island of Minadanao. It is a relative of the breadfruit, but a much stinkier and smaller cousin. The outer skin is covered with short, flexible spikes; it bears an uncanny resemblence to an echidna (spiny anteater) balled up in a defensive position. The range in the size of these fruits is roughly the same range found in bowling balls. The fruit inside is composed of sweet, soft white-coloured segments, each around a hard inedible pit. 

Young woman eating marang

Durian (Durio spp.) is the king of stinky fruit. In the Philippines, it is grown almost exclusively in Mindanao. (There's debate over whether the fruit is native or was introduced.) It's pretty expensive as far as fruit goes. It retails for over 250P per kilo in the grocery store (inner fruit only). Buying whole fruits at the Cogon market or at a roadside kiosk is a more budget-friendly option (60-100P per kilo).

Durian vendor with her basket of fruit

The fruit has a hard green-brown exterior; its sharp spikes easily pierce through canvas grocery bags and the skin on your fingers. It's best to ask the fruit vendor to slice open the fruit before you buy. This reduces: 1) the chance of cutting your fingers and 2) the possibility of buying fruit with critters small enough to worm their way between the spikes and start devouring the soft flesh inside. 

There are several cultivars of durian. The one with white flesh has a lighter, more delicate taste. It's the preferred choice for those with a more sensitive nose. The yellow-fleshed durian has a bolder taste (and smell). The fruit itself is very creamy and rich; it melts in your mouth. It is very soft; its 'squishability' makes it an ideal baby food. (Mango and durian are tied atop Ada's list of favourite foods.)

A partially-eaten durian

If you ever find yourself with the opportunity to indulge in such delicacies, I highly recommend it ... even if you have to hold your nose the entire time.

Do you eat rice?

Amakan house

Today, my research team - an interpreter/research assistant, my daughter and I - visited an amakan village on the other side of the city. It's called an amakan village because the walls of the houses are made of amakan (bamboo). The walls are lightweight and well-suited to rapid construction and demolition - a key criterion of temporary housing. At its peak, the village housed over 200 households (roughly 1000 men, women and children survivors of Typhoon Sendong). Only 62 families currently reside there. The remaining families are scheduled to move into permanent relocation housing by April or June of this year.

Amakan houses and empty spaces where amakan houses once stood

The answers of the residents to my research questions were fascinating. It is not their answers, however, that I want to share in this post; it is their questions.

At the end of each interview and focus group discussion, I ask respondents what (if any) questions they have for me. About half of the respondents don't have any questions and prefer to move on with the rest of their day. Of the respondents who elect to pose questions, most inquire about the research itself or how I am enjoying life in the Philippines. If Ada is with me, then I am often asked "lalaki or babae?" (boy or girl), "how many months?", and "is the father Pinoy?". This 'second interview' typically lasts only several minutes.

Today, the second interview was much longer. There was a back and forth of questions, a comedic  performance, a round of pass-the-baby, and peals of laughter. I tried to answer the questions as fully and truthfully as I could but I didn't have all the answers. Here's a smattering of their queries.

They inquired about the Canadian climate and weather:

• What kind of precipitation is there in Canada?
• How cold is it?
• Do you like snow and cold?
• What are the seasons in Canada?
• Do people freeze in the wintertime?

Other questions delved into family and personal matters:

• Do you have more children?
• How old are you?
• Where do you stay here in the Philippines?
• When did you arrive in the Philippines?
• Where is your husband? What does he do here?
• What is your husband's job? Does he have a salary here in the Philippines?

Then, there were the food questions:

• Do you eat rice?
• Why don't you eat rice three times a day?
• What do you eat?
• Is it true that there are people in the USA who only eat fruits and vegetables and bread?
• What is your favourite Filipino food?

There were questions about social issues in Canada:

• Are there poor people in Canada?
• Is there a social safety net for poor people and unemployed people in Canada? Does the government provide them with free housing?
• How does the welfare system work?

And, some questions about transportation:

• How long does it take to get to the United States? By car? By plane?
• Are there buses in Canada?
• How do people travel long distances in Canada?

Other inquiries focused on their observations of foreigners (i.e. white) in the Philippines:

• Why do foreign men like Filipina women? 
• Why do foreigners always walk [instead of taking a motorella, jeepney, habal-habal (motorbike)]  even when it is so hot and only 7 to 10 pisos?
• Why do American men walk so fast - like this [imitation of a man taking enormous strides]? His Filipina wife has to walk so fast just to keep up [imitation of a women hurrying around taking four or five tiny steps just to keep up with the husband], and she's usually pregnant [arm gestures to indicate a pregnant belly].

The questions you ask can reveal a lot about you, perhaps even more than the response. It's an issue I've considered in the process of designing and carrying out my research. In asking respondents to take a turn as the interviewer, I can learn about values, stereotypes, cultural biases, among other things. And, in answering questions, I can satisfy their curiosity and hopefully help to nurture cross-cultural understanding.

And now my closing questions to you:

• How would you have answered the above questions?
• What question(s) do you have?

Liquid gold

After Typhoon Pablo, there's an outpouring of support to the affected areas. Donations range from noodles, water and canned sardines to blankets, clothes, cash and medicines. And chain saws - to cut all the felled trees so that the lumber can be sold or used for rebuilding.

A young twenty-something mother and a few of her friends opt to collect another sort of relief good. These first-time mothers created an awareness and advocacy group in November to educate themselves and others about baby-wearing, cloth diapers (the enthusiasm for porte-bébés and couches lavables in la belle province has not yet spread throughout the Philippines), breast feeding and related baby matters. A natural extension of their education project is a milk letting drive.

At a milk letting drive, nursing mothers pump and donate breast milk. The set-up is similar to a blood drive:  preliminary medical screening, semi-private areas for mothers to pump milk, medical professionals who seal the collected milk in sterile milk bags, post-donation water or juice for donors. The intended recipients for this particular milk letting drive are the orphans of Typhoon Pablo in the eastern parts of Mindanao.

The organizers with their babies

The group's founder is Nadine. She's a confident, poised and educated woman. When she talks about breastfeeding, her face lights up and her voice becomes animated, drawing in the listener. She wants to pursue her passion as a professional and become a certified lactation consultant. Unfortunately, there are no such certification options available locally in CDO.

Three days after Pablo struck the Philippines, Nadine contacted the management at the Ayala Centrio Mall, the newest and trendiest of CDO's malls. They were receptive to the idea of allocating some space for the collection of this 'liquid gold for Typhoon Pablo orphans' and agreed to waive the usual exhibitor rental fee. The group is still responsible for paying for security and janitorial services.

Pay it forward CDO
Liquid gold for Typhoon Pablo orphans
(A milk letting drive)

Convincing middle class mothers at the mall to pump and donate a few ounces of breast milk is an arduous task. Nadine explains that breastfeeding is not strongly encouraged at the hospitals. Moreover, the prevalent attitude is that, for those families who can afford it, commercial formula is a desirable and maybe even preferable baby food choice. Of the nursing mothers she encounters at the mall, many decline to donate for fear they won't have enough milk for their babies. A possible, but unlikely situation.

It's a different story among women whom Nadine refers to as "marginalized". These women breastfeed. They don't need to be convinced of the benefits of nursing for mother and child. They nurse out of necessity. They nurse at home, at work, on jeepneys and non-air con buses, in churches, in carinderias (small cafeteria style eateries), in covered courts, in barangay halls, in wet and dry markets, outside roadside shops. But these women aren't at the mall.

At the end of the three day milk letting drive, Pay it forward CDO has netted just over three litres of milk and has raised an immeasurable amount of awareness. Given the limited number of eligible donors, the mall crowd's reticence to nurse and donate milk, and the minimal amount of event promotion, this is a remarkable achievement.

A laudable goal and effort by a caring group of young middle class mothers. Still, I can't help but wonder what results would a milk letting drive located outside of the mall, in a locale frequented by marginalized women, in a sitio devastated by last year's Typhoon Sendong, have yielded?

Prycegas Marathon

'Tis December in the Philippines. A month for Christmas decorating, Christmas parties, church services, and ... running races (or at least that's what I wind up doing early December in the Philippines).
*      *        *
On December 2, 2012, Cagayan De Oro City hosted the Prycegas International Marathon - Unleash the Inner Flame. According to the race announcer, it is the "biggest race this side of the Philippines". Here's a short recap of my race.

Running in the Philippines is a challenge. It's a tropical country, so it's too hot to run anytime except dawn or dusk. In many urban areas, the pollution and traffic congestion pose additional challenges. Plus, being situated near the equator means that the sun sets by about 6pm, which makes it difficult to get home from interviews or field visits in time to run before dark.

It's the heat that determines race start time. Assembly time for the marathon was 3:30 am so that runners are ready for the 4:00 am start. I opted to run the half marathon, which had a slightly more bearable assembly time of 4:30 am. (The real reason for running the half instead of the full was the absence of any kind of structured training and the fact that the longest distance I'd run in the past year was about 15km.)

The race started and finished at the Pryce Gardens, a lovely cemetery near the airport. It's on a ridge overlooking lush green farms and forests. Beyond the winding river are plateaus with what looks like agricultural plantations. The Gardens are on the other side of town from where I live, so getting to the race on time required a 2:45 am wake-up.

Barangay Tablon, where I stay, is much, much quieter than Quezon City. The taxi drivers who eagerly offer their services to Americanos during the day are fast asleep in the city's outlying barangays at 3:15 am. I wanted to avoid paying an astronomical taxi fare, and so had asked a friend to recommend a driver. Even still, I was a tad nervous about hopping into a cab with a stranger when everyone else around me was tucked into bed. As a safety precaution, I've gotten into the habit of sending a text of the licence plate to Frank or to a friend whenever I take a taxi. Instead of the usual ok reply, I received this one:

k good luck. Ada is lying here saying mama pretty clearly, i think it's her way of wishing you luck

A good omen. I knew, despite my lack of training, that it was going to be a good run.

When the taxi pulled into the Gardens, it was still dark. The sky was clear and starry. The constellations are not the same ones that decorate the night sky in the northern hemisphere. (A star map for the Philippines is on our to-purchase list.) It was bit cool; in a singlet and shorts I was under-dressed for the pre-dawn hours. Though the air was still, I could feel the excitement.

I reached the baggage drop station a few minutes before the start of the marathon. The marathon began with the most incredible show I've seen at a race start (well, a flyby of F-16 fighter jets at the Boston marathon was pretty impressive too). Instead of a gun start, there as a fireworks show. Not just Roman candles or piddly fireworks either, but a beautiful display of lights and sounds. Set against the starry night sky, surrounded by runners and the electricity that courses through the re-race air, the show was magical.

Many road races have an official warm-up led by a dance or aerobics instructor. It's a chance to remind runners to loosen up their muscles, hydrate and listen to their bodies. The Prycegas marathon followed this tradition. Instead of hiring a deejay to spin the warm-up tracks, there was a live band playing mainly American pop songs. The band took a short break for a lively warm-up to Gangnam Style, complete with a stage full of dancers, a film crew surveying the runners and music blaring loud enough to drown out the sounds of incoming aircraft.

The 21km course starts off with a gentle downhill along the airport road, winding past expensive gated communities (advertised as "flood-proof" of real estate listings), the SM mall, the agricultural college of Xavier University, a BMW car dealership and giant tarpaulins advertising a zip-lining and white water rafting adventure company. The descent continues for several kilometers; there's a gradual shift from upscale businesses to more affordable Christian print and copy shops, sari-sari shops and fruit stalls. The route flattens out in the barangay of Carmen, one of the areas hardest hit by Typhoon Sendong (international designation Washi) last December. The course then takes runners along the national highway, past the new Centrio (Ayala) mall, the bargain Guisano mall to the turnaround point at the Limketkai mall. The return route  takes a slightly different route past the Provincial Capitol, a small tent city of Sendong survivors awaiting permanent relocation housing, regional government offices and the Paseo del Rio de Cagayan. The climb back up to Pryce Gardens felt a lot longer than it did on the way down. Maybe it's because the sun has risen...

The woman wearing the pink shirt who had been playing leapfrop with me for the past ten kilometers or so pulled away at 18km. There's no juice left in my tank to catch her, just enough to pick up the pace for a respectable 300m "sprint" to the finish line.

Back at the Gardens, c'est une véritable fête. Lots of picture-taking (including with the Americano). A photo booth with props. Sponsors displaying their products. Loud music. Very loud music.

Tasting the finisher and 10th place female medals

All in all, it was a good run. Especially because I knew my two biggest fans were cheering me on (from the comfort of their beds), and one of them saying her first word.

Balut

Warning: This post may not be suitable for vegetarians and for people who prefer to forget the meat on their dinner plates was actually destined to be an animal.

If you're craving a small merienda (Tagalog for snack), you may be tempted to try a Pinoy specialty: balut. Balut are sold at semi-permanent roadside stalls or by roaming one-man sellers (the vendors are mostly men) who call out "baaaa-luuuuuut" in loud deep voices every few minutes. The eggs are usually carried in insulated styrofoam containers, about the size of a can of paint. Inside, the eggs are kept hot. The sellers also carry all the accouterments: salt, vinegar and chilies. Some sellers will also carry water and soap so you can wash your hands.

Balut container, chicharon snacks, salt and spiced vinegar

Balut are boiled duck embryos. On the outside, balut look just like hard-boiled eggs. To eat balut, you start by slurping up the 'soup' - the embryonic fluid. Next you peel away the eggshell until only a tiny sliver of shell remains at the bottom. Then, you sprinkle on some spiced vinegar, tilt your head back, pinch your nose and try not to think about what is coming next. Holding the sliver of eggshell, pop the embryo into your mouth and bite. You might be crunching on a beak and feathers, depending on the age of your balut. After the final swallow, you can eat a pinch of salt to slightly change the taste. Alternatively, you can add the salt at the same time as the vinegar.

Looking inside the balut

One of us (not yours truly) tried (albeit reluctantly, and with much goading from yours truly) balut. This is how the culinary adventure transpired.

After our pedicab ride, Goon asked us if we'd tried balut, then offered to have one with us. I politely decline and offer to photograph the experience instead. Frank agrees to partake in a small merienda feast. Goon buys two balut at 25 pesos apiece, then proceeds to explain and demonstrate the process. Of the experience, Frank recounts that "It just tastes like soup, like broth. It's more the texture that's different. The yolk is like biting through hard rubber."

Goon and Frank eating balut

If you're not convinced by the culinary appeal of balut, then perhaps another one of its attributes may convince you: it is a reputed aphrodisiac, and telling locals you've tried it instantly confers street cred.

Bon appétit!

A photo shoot in San Vincente

San Vincente is the second slum F has ever set foot in. The first was a short walk away from his resort in Venezuela. In the market there, you could score a bargain on a Poly Station. Not sure if it was compatible with Play Station games though. On one of his first days in the Philippines, F took photographs San Vincente.

The entrance gate to San Vincente

In politically correct terms, San Vincente is an "informal urban settlement". It's a lively hub of activity a block and a half from our current home in UP Village. Vendors hawk their wares and street food. Small sari-sari shops line the main road selling everything from rice, sachets of Datu vinegar, fresh fish and buko (fresh coconut) to hair clips, cell phone covers and secondhand clothes. Haircuts at the barber are a mere 50 pesos (PhP); pedicures will cost you slightly more. There's a laundry shop where the women will wash, dry and fold your clothes for 25 PhP a kilo.

Sari-sari shop

Just outside the gate separating San Vincente from UP Village, tricycle drivers sneak in catnaps between ferrying customers along Maginhawa Street to Philcoa. The drivers are mostly young men and very friendly. Some blare music from old radios, probably scrounged from recycled parts. The stench of dirty diesel 2-stroke engines wafts through the air.

Tricycle drivers

On the side of the street that receives the most shade are two wire mesh cages. Tethered to each is a handsome rooster. The black and white one is scrawny and shy. His counterpart is much more regal looking with his rich brown, black and green plumes and his slow and deliberate strutting. Both are being groomed as cock fighters.

Rooster on the bridge

The "residential area" is located adjacent to University Avenue. Houses are constructed out of corrugated tin, old pieces of plywood, tarpaulins, and other makeshift building material. There's electricity; some houses have lights, televisions, or even an imitation Play Station. It's cramped. Clothes lines stretch between roofs and trees, connecting neighbours in the daily airing of (previously) dirty laundry.

Laundry hanging out to dry

Everywhere there are children. Running. Skipping. Playing marbles. Laughing. Yelling. Shooting baskets. Carrying school books. Carrying younger children. Fetching this or that for an adult. Drinking soda from a plastic bag. Calling out to the "Americanos". Sneaking looks at the baby "doll".

Children walking to school

A small stream runs through San Vincente. It reeks of urine, garbage and rotting leaves. The stream forks somewhere between the footbridge and the shanties. Right now, there's a mere trickle of water, but whenever a typhoon rolls into Manila the trickle swells and swells and swells. It rises above all the houses, forcing residents into the safety of the second floor of the barangay hall.

San Vincente is a part of our daily lives. We hear the sounds of roosters at dawn (and every other time of day). I buy fresh buko on my way back from morning runs at UP. We stop and chat with the vendors on our way to and from the university. We bring our laundry to the laundry shop.* Someday (I hope), F or I will join the boys in a game of basketball. I chat with other young moms about their babies.

*        *         *        *

The cost of these pictures is 1,000 PhP - not because San Vincente residents demanded money in exchange for being photographed. In fact, many people excitedly asked him to take their picture. No, the fee was an unfortunate accident for F, and a lucky find for the person who found the crisp, bank-machine-ironed bill. From now on, cameras and loose bills will not share the same pocket.


* Well, everything but A's diapers, but more about our daily routine in another post.

Language learning through song

Music is a great tool for learning a new language - whether you can or cannot carry a tune. You get a feel for the rhythm of the language and word pronunciation. It can be easier to sing a song than to read aloud. When the song becomes an earworm and you can't get it out of your head, you begin subconsciously (and likely involuntarily) acquiring new vocabulary.

In my beginner Tagalog classes, we've been nurturing our musical talents. We listen to simple (slow-ish) songs, fill in the blanks of an incomplete set of lyrics, translate them into English (both word-for-word and by phrase), and practice many times. Here is a sample of the ones we have learned in class.





Biyahe Tayo! was made in the early 1990s as a shout-out to Filipino emigrants to come back and visit the Philippines. Twenty-one artists for Philippines Tourism contributed to the song. During my exploratory field season last year I experienced / visited roughly half of the places and activities they mention / show.



Apo Hiking Society's Pumapatak na naman ang ulan should sound familiar. The song is similar to Raindrops are falling on head. The members of Apo Hiking Society began their musical partnership at Ateneo de Manila High School, and continued making music together during their years at Ateneo de Manila University. The group became popular in the 1970s and are known for their humour and political outspokenness as well their their music.



Bahay kubo is a song about all the vegetables and legumes that you would grow in your garden. A bahay kubo is a traditional nipa hut (nipa is a kind of palm).

*     *      *
While yours truly has been tactfully told to avoid singing outside the shower, I am convinced that exceptions can and should be made when learning a new language. And so, if your ears happen across a not-so-melodic version of these or other Filipino songs, please make a small allowance. I am merely practising my limited repertoire of Filipino songs so that my spoken Tagalog will improve.

Le coeur de Vancouver

Lorsqu'on visite un nouvel endroit, nos yeux voient des choses que les résidents ne voient pas puisque ces choses sont vues tellement souvent qu'elles deviennent "normales" et une partie de l'arrière plan de la journée quotidienne de ces gens. Des images des coeurs dispersés un peu partout dans des espaces publics m'ont attirés et j'ai voulu les partager. Voici donc quelques photos des "coeurs de Vancouver". Tous ces photos ont été prises dans le "Downtown Eastside".

Une mosaïque sur le trottoir.

Un coeur peinturé au bout d'une ruelle. 

Assis sur un banc au coin d'Adamac et Commercial Drive, Mike porte un chapeau "I ♥ Canada".

Un drapeau près du bibliothèque.

Une pieuvre et un coeur sur une fenêtre sur Commercial Drive.

La clôture d'un parc au coin de Franklin et Nanaimo.



Une affiche sur Commercial Drive.

Lost and found

This is a good news story. And a déjà vu story.

*     *     *
I am currently visiting with my sister and her boyfriend in Vancouver. (Another tangent before beginning Filipino language classes next month.) They live in the notorious Downtown Eastside. The one made famous for sky high rates of illicit drug use, HIV/AIDS, hepatitis, drug-related crime, and more recently, Insite (the supervised safe injection site). My recent experience belies such a reputation.

Sunday 
A lovely stroll through Granville Island: toy stores, flower stalls, produce stands, hat shops, quirky broom stores, Canada geese families. We stuff mangoes, strawberries, grapes, sheep feta, plantain, apples and pears into my shoulder bag and Steve's satchel. I slip my wallet into my jacket pocket.

The drizzle turns to rain. Out come the umbrellas. We speed home, trying to stay dry(ish). Dash across Terminal Road (timing the traffic lights is tricky). Make it home only mildly drenched.

Monday
I go to grab my wallet as we head out - except that I can't find it. Anywhere. We search inside and out. It is definitely gone. While personal security is not really an issue in the neighbourhood, a dropped wallet is unlikely to be returned.

The wallet would have been a pretty disappointing find for whomever picked it up as it contained less than two dollars cash. For me, the loss was more of a sentimental loss and a practical nuisance. The former because my one-of-a-kind wallet was made from recycled juice tetrapaks in the Philippines. The latter because acquiring a new driver licence, student card and health card is a tedious process (and I was nervous about boarding a plane without government-issued ID).

And thus begins the card cancelling process. My banks are surprisingly apologetic and sympathetic. In the future, if I ever want to speak with very helpful bank employees I will call the lost card hotline.

Tuesday
The phone rings, interrupting dinner. It's Dad. My sister jots down a phone number.

I call the security desk at the Tinseltown Mall. They had my wallet. A SkyTrain rider had spotted it at the Terminal Road intersection near the train station, and had brought it to the mall security. Security had contacted one of my banks, who then had contacted my parents.

Later that evening, after a riveting panel discussion on "Health, harm reduction and the law: the Insite case" at Simon Fraser University, we retrieve the wallet. Everything's there.

A sigh of relief and a smile. Not so much for finding the wallet, but for the evidence that people care.

*     *     *
I have no idea of the identity of the good Samaritan who turned in the wallet, or that of the other security and bank people who played a role in tracking me down. To you, I am grateful. Thank you for your honesty, kindness and time.

*     *     *
There's a déjà vu element to the story. A decade or so ago, I left my wallet in the back seat of a New York City taxi. And got it back. Fully intact.

Bicycle benefits in Tacloban

Tied to the fence outside Tacloban's City Hall is a sign. It captures the small town, laid-back, joie-de-vivre atmosphere of Leyte's capital city. It made me stop, grin, take out my notebook and jot down some notes. My camera batteries had died and so, unfortunately, there's no picture to accompany this post.

*     *     *
Picture a one square meter sign. White background. Logos of the City of Tacoblan and the One Way Bike Club up top. A goofy-looking cartoon cyclist sporting lycra shorts, a striped tee and helmet sits atop a bicycle. Text written in black comic sans ms font surrounds the picture, labeling the various parts like an anatomy diagram. The text reads (copied verbatim from the sign):

• Gives you legs of steel 
• Zero emissions
• Slows down global warming
• Whizzes past traffic jam
• No need to pay for gas, parking fees or auto insurance ... hurray 
• Quiet as a mouse
• Faster and easier than walking
• It feels like flying
• It carries your goodies home [pointing to the basket]
• Put a big fat smile on your face
• Shapes up that bootie
• The Earth sends a lil extra luv to those on bicycles (this is scientifically documented)

*     *     *

I hope this short description evokes a smile from all cycling enthusiasts reading this post, and perhaps a small twinge of excitement for next spring's biking season.

The sounds of Quezon City

Not understanding a language has its advantages. When the content and meaning of conversations are beyond comprehension, other aspects of the soundscape come into focus -  the tone of human voices, the natural sounds, the human-induced sounds, the everyday sounds that meld into the background over time. 

My daily soundscape in Quezon City

Soft beep-beep-beep of a travel alarm clock
[Click]
Whirring, cooling, mosquito-repelling fan

Soft beep-beep-beep of a travel alarm clock

[Click]
Soft beep-beep-beep of a travel alarm clock

[Click]
Soft beep-beep-beep of a travel alarm clock

Cheery "good morning ma'am" en route to UP 

A thousand different ringtones interrupting meetings, conferences, presentations
Speakers blaring sappy love songs and dance music in grocery stores
Christmas carols
Clapping and singing of store staff ... always on cue

Bounce, bounce, bounce of aspiring basketball stars on barangay courts
Children's laughter from behind school gates and on city streets

Whimsical melody of the ice cream pedal-bikes

Slow deep shouts of mobile food vendors
Sizzling oil frying fish balls, quail eggs, bananas, sweet potatoes ...

Tap, tap, tap of the keyboard
"You are listening to a CBC podcast"
[musical interlude]

Constant drone of traffic
Shrill whistle blows from grocery store security men, directing traffic
Tricycle engines coughing, sputtering, revving
Gentle horns of considerate drivers alerting others of their presence
Hammer-on-the-horn-as-hard-as-you-can beeping of jeepney and taxi drivers

Inhale, exhale

Chataranga

Inhale ... upward-facing dog

Exhale ... downward-facing dog

Two breaths, relax 

Lively voices animate Filipino talk radio programmes

Videoke versions of American, Korean and Filipino pop music

Survivor Philippines, Taglish news, celebrity tv banter

Hair ads promising luscious, silky, straight, dandruff-free manes

Bounce, bounce, bounce of the aspiring basketball star next door, practicing his shot for the zillionth time

Pop, bang, pop POP of fireworks in the night sky

Faint pitter-patter, pitter-patter of mouse footfalls

Silent night

Gusto kong tumakbo (I like to run)

There's a shoe-box sized running store a few blocks from my place. I discovered it a few nights after moving in and spent an hour talking shop with the sole employee there. Apparently running is the latest fitness craze in the Philippines, which would partially explain the popularity of the new two kilometer fitness oval at the UP campus. (Another explanation is that it's one of the few places with shade and limited vehicle traffic.) The sport is still in its infancy and not especially competitive.

An early morning run is part of my daily routine (as is the washing of my running shorts, sports bra, singlet and socks in the shower afterwards).  For me, running also a way of staying grounded and physically and mentally healthy. As I visit different parts of the country, my running shoes have and will continue to come with me. Running is such a wonderful way to meet new people and to explore new places (so long as you're carrying money, ID and a mobile phone when venturing out in new locales).

*    *    *

I ran a 10km fundraiser race for UP varsity athletes on Sunday morning. Races here start very early; start time was scheduled for 6:00am sharp (which turned out to be 6:30am). Even at this early hour, it's hot and humid. The race atmosphere was familiar: pop music blaring, inflatable start and finish line, vendor tents, race volunteers sporting bright t-shirts, nervous runners milling about and stretching. The enthusiasm was contagious. It was great to talk with other runners about upcoming races and places to train.

As the only non-Filipino, I stuck out like a sore thumb. As one of the few experienced runners, I stuck out even more. Curious, excited onlookers cheered us on all along the 5km loop. There were lots of "go ma'am" shouts of support. I ran a decent but not especially fast race (40:52ish) to finish second overall and first female. Instead of medals or ribbons we were given gift certificates for foot massages and fast food!

*    *    *

There's a marathon in Quezon City on December 5th, the day before I return to Canada. I'm tempted to run it.

For more info about running in the Philippines, visit: takbo.ph