Tuesday run

Late Tuesday afternoon,
walking down Mahogany Road,
beads of sunscreen and sweat collecting dirt and car exhaust, I mull over the day's work.

It was a long day of interviews in barangay Carmen:
- the city police department
- the regional fire department
- sari-sari owners whose shops sport new renovations and fresh red and white paint courtesy of Coca Cola - a drunk trisikad (pedicab) driver trying to score a free ticket to Canada
- a thoughtful young trisikad driver
(The latter two, survivors of Typhoon Sendong)

A lunchtime discussion with my translator about the confused reactions of the trisikad drivers when asked the pros and cons of their livelihood:
"Why ask such a question? It's a job. If we don't work, we don't eat. There's nothing to like or complain about."

And one interview in the downtown hub of Divisoria
There was a late start to the interview with the director of the Xavier Ecoville Resettlement Site;
A visit from Philippine President P'noy to the resettlement site takes precedence.

Back at the house, there is a request for roasted manok (chicken) for dinner ...
It is Tuesday after all and we only buy rotisserie chicken on Tuesdays
"Why?"
It just happened that way, and is now an unofficial house rule.

The chicken is on the other side of the highway.
I volunteer to buy it on the way back from a run.

It's my first run in a few days.
The summer heat, a persistent cough, fatigue from nighttime nursing, and long days of interviews and note-writing have dampened by enthusiasm for early morning jogs.

I turn left onto the national highway, away from the city and towards barangays of Agusan and Puerto.
The shoulder is uneven, a mixture of broken asphalt, rocks and litter.
It is shared,
- by overloaded transport trucks waiting for the magical hour of 5 PM when the traffic cops call it a day and stop issuing tickets
- by jeepneys, motorellas, trisikads dropping off passengers and picking up new ones
- by roadside vendors selling everything from mosquito repellent and bananas to fresh fish and hair ties
- by schoolchildren and workers returning home
But no other runners.

A few K later I dash across to the road leading up to a new housing development.
The road is paved all the way up to Teakwood Hills;
A project of Congressman Rufus Rodriguez, according to the billboards.
The pavement ends less than one hundred metres past the gate.
There are residential roads inside, but only two houses.
But lots of vacant lots.

Not unexpectedly, the road to Teakwood Hills is hilly, steep in some parts and only a slight incline in others.
The road is marked with stations of the cross.
(Many roads branching off the highway and into the mountainous hinterlands are pilgrimage routes.)
By the time I pass Station III, my calf and hamstring muscles are burning.

A brief reprieve on some flats, where a group of children play.
Three boys and one girl are wearing only one slipper (flip flop);
The mates are on the road at varying distances from the children.
They play a version of bowling, in which the object of the game is to knock over a can with a pitched slipper. Another dozen or so children watch.

"Americano, Americano"

One of the boys abandons the game and joins me, matches me stride for stride.
We run one station of the cross together, then he stops.

On the way down, I spot the kids again.
They have been climbing up the hill.
All wear two slippers.
The boy rushes out in front, I slip in behind, and the rest of the kids behind me:
A parade, a posse of runners.
The laughter is louder than the footfalls.

A "whoooooshing" sound interrupts, then clippity-clop, clippity-clop, clippity-clop.
A tall chestnut mare gallops into the fray.
Luckily for us, she stays on the opposite side of the road.
She carries no rider, only a frayed rope tied around her neck.
The rope undulates at the same rhythm as her captive.
The equine gracefully exits the run.
The children follow.

The return trip is quick.
I feel lighter, even laden with manok.

The Youth Guide to Biodiversity

Here's some shameless self-promotion on one of the projects I helped produce for the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO) and the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD).

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The Youth Guide to Biodiversity is finally here!

Discover the wonders of the world’s plants and animals in this brand-new, colourful, information-packed publication. Learn about biodiversity and what it does for us, and let the Youth Guide inspire you to help protect the marvelous natural world around us.

Enjoy it, share it, get involved! Follow this link. 

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The biodiversity challenge badge, published back in 2010, is the complement to the youth guide.

The challenge badge is a tool to allow teachers and youth leaders to guide young people in learning about biodiversity and developing action-oriented projects. The activities encourage participants to get to know the natural world in their community, to find out why certain species and habitats are struggling to survive, and to understand the links between biodiversity and the well-being of people around the world.

Try it out. Follow this link.

Academic publications, or Ada's first lecture

Publishing in peer-reviewed journals is a critical component of academic life. The old adage of publish or perish rings true for many university lifers. Your credibility, reputation and ability to garner scholarships, research grant money, tenure and promotions all depend, in part, having your research evaluated by your peers. There is a seemingly endless list of journals publishing research on an equally impressive array of topics. These journals are ranked in terms of their impact factor. For example, getting published in a journal like Nature or Science is akin to winning an Olympic medal. Scholars typically aim to publish in both very specialized journals read only by their peers and high impact journals with an extensive readership. In addition to publishing in peer reviewed journals, academics must also share their work orally - at conferences and workshops, guest lectures, in undergraduate and graduate courses. 

During my doctoral studies I need to buoy up the academic publication and presentation section of my curriculum vitae. This post is a brief account of one such foray.

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Part I: The article

Last year, I co-authored a paper with Dr. James Ford, one of my profs at McGill University. It investigates one part of the climate migration puzzle, specifically how to provide protection for the people displaced by climate change. The following abstract summarizes the main arguments of the paper.

Climate change is expected to increase migration flows, especially from socially and environmentally vulnerable populations. These 'climate migrants' do not have any official protection under international law, which has implications for the human security of migrants. This work argues that the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) can and should recognize climate migrants, and is the most relevant international framework for doing so. While not legally binding, the acknowledgment of climate displacement, migration and planned relocation issues in the UNFCCC's Cancun Adaptation Framework indicates a willingness to address the issue through an adaptation lens. Herein, the paper proposes a framework for setting the institutional groundwork for recognizing climate migrants, focusing on the most vulnerable, promoting targeted research and policy agendas, and situating policies within a comprehensive strategy.

If you want to read the full article, it's available on the Environmental Research Letters (ERL) website. ERL is an open access journal, which means that you can read and download articles for free. An added perk of open access journals (to academics) is that your research is more likely to be disseminated outside the academic community. 

For a short synopsis, try reading Liz Kalaugher's article on the environmentalresearchweb.org website. This online magazine targets a non-academic audience so the writing style is much less academic and reader-friendly. 

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Part II: The presentation

One of my key informants at Ateneo de Manila University kindly invited me to present this paper as part of their social sciences guest lecture series. I jumped at the opportunity. But it didn't unfold exactly as planned.

The lecture was set for Friday January 25 at 4:30 pm. As luck would have it, Frank received a text message from the MSI service center earlier that week, informing him that the long-awaited hard drive for our beleaguered laptop was finally ready for pick-up. We were in Manila for only a few days; Friday was the only available day for pick-up. Because the trek to the MSI office entails a short stint on the body-crushing MRT (Metro Rail Transit), bringing Ada was not an option. So Ada spent the day with me.

After a delicious lunch of bulalo (Filipino beef marrow soup) at Jek's Kubo (including a complimentary bowl of the broth and vegetables for "the cute baby with blue eyes"), Ada and I set off for Ateneo. We arrived early, with lots of time to peruse library resources and to photograph the outdoor art installation of quirky giant animals made of wire and coloured cans. I orated an abridged version of the presentation to a pair of giraffes.

Ada sandwiched between two giant giraffes at Ateneo de Manila University

Shortly before the scheduled start time I asked a fellow student if he'd hold the baby during the presentation. He replied that it would be his pleasure. As the lecture hall filled up, Ada started to fuss. She was getting into one of those moods, the one in which she refuses to be held by anyone except mom and papa. 

I sent a frantic text to Frank.

When I was introduced, the remarks included the usual info - name, degrees, country of origin, research interests, etc. The remarks also included some commentary about changing gender relations (in which the father takes time off work to care for the children), work-life balance, parental leave in Quebec, and conducting research with a baby. 

I walked up to the podium, notes in one hand, baby in the other. I don't remember much about the words alternately flowing and stumbling from my lips. I do remember bouncing my daughter up and down on my hip, listening to her babble into the microphone, watching her make eyes at the audience. I remember feeling mortified and guilty; the guilt comes from wondering whether or not I am exerting white privilege by bringing my baby to work and expecting others to ignore the inconvenience. I remember stealing frequent glances at the door, willing Frank to enter the room.

A half hour later he does. Waltzes down the stairs to the podium, picks up the baby and exits the room. 

My knight in shining armor is also my yaya (Filipino term for nanny).

Despite (or perhaps because of) the distraction of my co-presenter, the lecture was well-received. I am very grateful that everyone I have met here in the Philippines, without exception, has been extremely understanding and receptive to accommodating a baby. Even when it entails listening to a lecture delivered (in part) by a seven and a half month old.

Reference: Christine Gibb and James Ford (2012) Should the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change recognize climate migrants? Environ. Res. Lett. 7 doi: 045601

Postcards from Camiguin

A one week break from all research activities on a beautiful volcanic island in Northern Mindanao.

December 21
Greetings from Kingfisher Cottage in barangay Agoho!

After an exhaustive day of traveling, we are settling in nicely at our new abode. We had an early start to the day - with the intention of arriving in Camiguin early to mid afternoon. Our plans, however, were thwarted by:
a) an uncanny absence of taxis looking for passengers to drive into the city,
b) traffic entering CDO,
c) a long line-up of passengers waiting to alight the CDO-Balingoan bus (which worked in our favour by giving us time to use the bus station's CR (comfort room) - the cleanest public bathrooms I have ever seen in the Philippines), d) traffic leaving CDO,
e) construction on the national highway,
f) an hour delay in the ferry departure, and
g) an aging ferry whose running time, we are told, has increased steadily from one hour to two hours in the past few years.
We were glad to have asked Ralph, one half of the German-Filipino couple who own the cottage, to pick us up at the Benoni wharf.

Our first glimpse of a mist-covered Camiguin Island from the Baligoan-Benoni ferry.

On the way, we stop at the "one decent grocery store" to pick up some supplies in the capital town of Mambajao. There's a small combined wet (fish and meats) and dry (vegetables, fruits and rice) market across the road. We buy a few bags of pre-cut mixed vegetables for a stir-fry (at ten pisos a bag, it's a steal), some potatoes and a few skewers of barbecued pork (10PhP), fresh tuna (25PhP) and a fish whose name escapes me (30PhP). Masarap (delicious)!

Iggy

Daylight was fast fading by the time we left the ferry terminal. The beauty and charm of the island remains a secret ... at least until tomorrow.

P.S. Frank noticed two lizards perched atop the ceiling beam over the kitchenette. We named the larger one 'Iggy' and the smaller one 'Pop'. We enjoyed (and will continue to enjoy every night of our stay in Camiguin) watching them clamour after moths. They appeared to enjoy watching us too, and perhaps even amused when we try to engage them in conversation.


December 22
Maayong odto (good noontime) from Mambajao.

Today's the day for wandering the streets of the capital city, sampling local fare and strolling along the beach. The carabao (water buffalo) in the rice paddies along the beach fascinate Frank. The picture below is one he snapped from the beach looking up towards one of the island's majestic volcanoes, Mount Hibok-Hibok.




December 23

Today we experienced the world from a whole new perspective ... underwater. There's a beach resort / dive centre called Camiguin Action Geckos just down the hill from our cottage. It offers introductory SCUBA courses; your first dive is at one of the island's incredible coral reefs. After watching an educational video (that was probably made in the eighties or early nineties judging from the hairstyles), we hopped in a jeepney and headed to the Catarman dive site on the southwest side of the island. Exploring the reef is like jumping into a BBC nature special - except you get the full sensory experience, complete with the taste of salt water when your respirator escapes your mouth. Fish and coral of every imaginable shape and size, and more colourful than a painter's palette.

A roadside carinderia lunch included a delicious monggo bean and cabbage soup. The woman who sold it to us generously shared the recipe. (We're planning on trying it when we get back to CDO.)

In the afternoon, Frank had his turn underwater. He explored a reef just off White Island, near Action Geckos. Among the marine life he saw were two sea snakes and the silhouette of a sea turtle.


December 24
Joyeux Noel!

It's raining (again). It's amazing how the weather is so different from Cagayan de Oro City, less than one hundred kilometers away. CDO has not had a single full day of rain since we arrived mid November, while we have not yet experienced a sunny day in Camiguin.

A rainy day is a great day for visiting one of the island's waterfalls. We opt for the highest ones: Katibawasan Falls. It's a 75m drop. We charter a motorella for a 'special trip'. The lack of good maps and street signs means that you're less likely to get lost if you ride public transit than if you venture out on your own with the tourist map.

The young boy riding shotgun in the motorella wore an Armani t-shirt. His father, the driver, probably makes less than 200PhP a day. Armani clothes are probably sold for bargain prices at the town ukay-ukay (used clothing market).

At the falls, there is a group of physiotherapy students from South Korea. They are volunteering in CDO. They tell us the water is cold, but wonderful for a swim. The water is definitely colder than what we've grown accustomed to here in the Philippines, but infinitely warmer than the Quebec rivers we kayak in early spring.

One of several pools at Ardent Hot Springs

We spend the latter part of the afternoon relaxing in the warm soothing pools of Ardent Hot Springs. The natural pools are warmed in the neighbouring Mount Hibok-Hibok volcano. If you concentrate, you can smell a faint whiff of sulphur, but it's not the overpowering stench of rotten eggs. There are a series of beautiful little pools and waterfalls the same temperature as a baby's bathwater. Ada revels in this gigantic bathtub.

P.S. Tonight was Frank's night for handwashing diapers. Daily diaper washing has become a necessity because it takes so long for the diapers to dry in such a wet and humid climate. Before going to bed, Frank jokes that he never imagined that his first Christmas Eve in a tropical paradise would include such a dirty job.

December 25

Merry Christmas from Kingfisher Cottage! 

It's another rainy day so we've opted for a leisurely day.  Breakfast is French toast (the preferred breakfast of dads-on-parental-leave), fresh pineapple and mango, and instant coffee. After eating, we opened a few gifts while listening to the Puppini Sisters Christmas album. Ada's favourite present was the box.

The cottage owners, Ralph and Suzie, invited us to a Christmas lunch buffet. Like other family-based gatherings in the Philippines, there were copious amounts of food.  We spent several hours eating and conversing with a dozen or so guests. We had a particularly interesting discussion with a Camiguin-based couple, a Swiss man married to a Filipina woman, about grandfather aged foreign men starting a second family with a several decades younger Filipina woman.

I managed to sneak in a short run up to Ardent Hot Springs then down to Action Geckos before dinner. It was raining, so it felt like a late spring run in Montreal ... except for the coconut trees, roosters and pigs.

View of White Island from Kingfisher Cottage

December 26
Kamusta ka!

Despite soaring temperatures, we enjoyed a white Christmas. We spent late morning and early afternoon (with the time difference, this morning can be considered December 25 in Canada) on White Island, a gorgeous white sand island about a kilometer from the coast.

We shared a bangka (boat) from the mainland to the island with a newly-married couple on their honeymoon. He's from Ottawa, working in Calgary (and he's a Habs fan); she's from CDO, working in Calgary.

 

Frank and I took turns swimming with Ada in a shallow pool, and snorkeling around the reef. It was absolutely stunning, and we failed to notice how strong the sun had become. Only the baby, in her full-body UV suit and Australian lifeguard-inspired hat managed to escape sunburn.
Lesson learned!


December 27
Have you ever wondered about giant clams? They are perhaps one of the most awe-inspiring life forms.

Our visit to Cantaan Kabila White Beach Giant Clam Sanctuary was the most amazing day of the trip. Six of the nine species of giant clams found worldwide are raised here. The small entry fee pays for the maintenance of the centre and its research activities, and provides a source of livelihood for locals. It's more profitable for locals to maintain this biodiverse gem as an ecotourism destination than to harvest its marine life to sell at the market.

A visit begins with a short introductory biology lesson on the life history of the clams, and is followed by a tour of several aquariums with giant clams and fresh water tilapia. After, a local guide takes visitors on a "snorkel tour" of the giant clam sanctuary and reef. Even though the reef was partially destroyed by Typhoon Pablo, it still boasts some of the best snorkeling on Camiguin. You have to be especially careful where you step because the force of a giant bivalve slamming shut can easily sever a limb.

After snorkeling, we ate the best and probably freshest meal we've had: calamari, grilled emperor fish and Filipino-style chop suey (vegetables). The sanctuary maintains a fish pen where they raise fish for their restaurant. They catch a few fish or squid each day to transform into gourmet meals for hungry snorkelers.

December 28
Sniff, sniff. It's time to leave this tropical paradise and head back 'home' to Cagayan de Oro City. We're excited to see our CDO family again, but will miss adventuring in Camiguin.

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?

Super Typhoon Pablo/Bopha

I have a confession to make: when I decided to study environmental migration for my PhD, I only wanted to study other people's experiences, and not to experience it myself. Perhaps this desire, this sentiment makes me culpable of academic voyeurism, a fascinating subject in its own right, but not the one I want to elaborate in this post.

Here, I want to share some excerpts from my field notebook. This notebook (series of notebooks, actually) goes with me everywhere. It's where I jot down the unusual and mundane things I see, hear, taste and smell, the thoughts that run through my head, and occasionally the emotions I experience over the course of an interview, tour or other experience. The jottings are mainly descriptive. They jump around from one idea to another, often without proper segues or grammar. The field notebook is an essential research tool. It's also one of the first items that was packed in my emergency evacuation bag. 

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December 4. 2012
12:35 pm 
I am lying on a dorm bed in the Marigold Hotel - ironically the very same hotel I visited last week asking to speak with management about their Typhoon Sendong experiences.

Ada is finally napping. Jacob, after a very long bout of crying, is also asleep. April is calling her husband to check if he's left their home for the safety of the Nestlé compound located on the other side of the national highway on higher ground away from the seashore. The Ates (literally 'older sisters' but used here as a term of respect for the hired help who care for April and Ejay's boys) and baby Elmer are sleeping on two single beds pushed together in the corner of the room. The three older boys are tearing up and down the halls, into and out of the room. Tito Frank is out on the balcony watching the storm.

Frank and I talked a lot about what to do yesterday. Looked up every weather website we could find. Diligently read up on typhoons. Calculated contact time with Mindanao and with CDO. Discussed the hazards most likely to affect us: typhoon, storm surge, flooding. Debated which details to divulge to our families and when to share them.

Frank cooked dinner while I packed our evacuation bags.

•          All our medications, vitamins and first aid kit
•           Important papers
•           Camera and charger
•           Field notebooks
•           External hard drive, laptops, voltage regulator
•           Diaper bag and toiletries
•           Infant life jacket
•           Baby carrier
•           A change of clothes
•           Some food and water

Most of the remaining non-essentials are stowed at Uncle’s two-story house next door. The stroller, shoes and car seat are placed on high shelves. Unopened cans of San Mig and Red Horse are moved to the top of the wardrobe – the last place to be flooded, should flooding occur.

He made pad thai with lemon grass and okra. It felt like our final supper. Before putting Ada to bed, I played with her, read Eric Carle stories, sang songs and cuddled. It felt like some cheesy disaster movie: young foreign couple with a baby travels to an exotic tropical country where they succumb to some inevitable misfortune. The penultimate scene before the calamity strikes captures a slice of a happy family routine.

The main event should hit around 2 pm. It's raining harder now. There are big gusts of wind. The girls I saw playing baseball on a first floor porch earlier this morning have left. The occasional cab, motorella and motorcycle drive by. Otherwise, the streets are eerily deserted. Corrugated sheet iron roofs threaten to cave in or fly off. Papaya trees bend in the wind.

We wait.

There's nothing we can do at this point. Except pray. And write. And wait. The knot in my stomach is gone. It was there yesterday afternoon and evening and night. Maybe it's time, or maybe it's the fact that we're on the fifth floor or a solidly constructed building. Or because there's nothing we can do at this point.

The boys are back in the room. They jump into and out of the wardrobe, whispering just loud enough for everyone to hear, but quiet enough for them to pretend they're quiet.
"Shhhh, they can hear you." the oldest cautions his younger brothers.
"Do you want to play outside?" asks an authoritative adult voice.

Last night was long. We drove from hotel to hotel to hotel. First, we tried the hotels on high ground near the airport: Prycegas, Korseca and Condotel. Booked solid. Then, we tried the clubhouse at Xavier Estates. It's not exactly a hotel, but it has a roof and it's located on high ground. The next option was to go downtown - lower ground but multistory buildings. Hotels were full, full, full. Finally, one with an empty dorm room.

In the room are eight single beds. Each is covered with starched white linens, not the mismatched assortment of bargain sheets that cover typical dorm beds at budget hostels. Air con. Cable t.v. Two enormous wooden wardrobes. It’s the swankiest dorm room I’ve ever entered.

It was after midnight when we finally checked in. Ada was wired. I was exhausted. Frank paced the halls with her. Brought her outside to the fire escape, but the city lights only revved her up more.

Not much sleep was had by anyone that night. The babies took turns crying. Babies sense trouble. April was constantly on her mobile, checking in with her husband, father and hired help who stayed at the compound.

I had wild dreams.

The rat. Ada wakes up crying. I reach my hand over to comfort her. A large dark rat scuttles along the bed frame in the space between Frank's mattress and mine. It dives down as I pull Ada in close. She screams. Loud. I shift again and the rat resurfaces a little farther down the bed. I silently curse dirty, grungy hotels. I pat Ada down, like in a first aid secondary survey, trying to identify where the rat has bitten her. I don’t find any blood or tender spots. She feeds then snuggles into the crook of my neck. Frank pushes our beds even closer together.

Several hours later I shift positions. Shadows dance. My hands are a puppeteer. The rat was me; my hand motions its scurrying. Daylight, even with an imminent storm, brings calm.

3:00 pm 
It's still raining - a constant, steady downpour. The eye of the storm has passed us, along with the strong winds. It's not the super-typhoon that has April on edge; it's the rain in the mountains of neighbouring Bukidnon province.  The mountains are the water catchment area for the rivers and creeks of Tablon, where we live, as well as the tributaries feeding into the Cagayan River.

An ambulance topped with a rubber boat (the white water raft kind) drives by. Sirens blare. Though huge puddles cover the roads they are still passable. Cars, vans, motorellas and taxis drive by. The visibility of the distant mountains waxes and wanes.

I am crouched in the doorway looking out onto the road, enjoying a rare cool breeze, listening to the rain. Two children dash across the street. Two people drive by on a red motorbike. The passenger holds up a purple umbrella to shelter them from the rain. Off in the distance at the unfinished Paseo Del Rio hotel is a white crane. The rain begins to let up. People begin milling around near the wall of the Capitol.

6:20 pm
Normalcy returns with surprising speed. The brown out ends. Street lights switch on. Street vendors bring out their stalls. Stores and eateries re-open. Karaoke microphones crackle.

*        *        *         *

Super-typhoon Pablo (international designation Bopha) has largely spared Cagayan de Oro City. A lucky break for one of the cities hard hit by last year’s Tropical Storm Sendong. Unfortunately, news is emerging about the devastation of Pablo on parts of Compostela Valley and Davao Oriental. 

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).
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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.