Waddies and Kape

Writing this in Roxas, a little town that the Puerto-Taytay bus stops at.  Just here to meet with Mavic, of WWF-Philippines, who is on a crazy travel schedule, but has been incredibly helpful to me for this field season.  The hotel here actually has soft pillows... R, the Peace Corps volunteer in Taytay, and I just discussed last night how the Philippines seems to be the land of lumpy pillows. Doesn't seem to be anything really in Roxas, but it's a nice enough place, and I had a very masarap guyabano shake with dinner, so life is good.  Getting some work done while taking breaks to sing along with the karaoke going on next door.  "Baby, you're all that I want, when you're lying here in my arms..."

Had a fantastic two days, with 'waddy sightings and plenty of fisher interviews.  I am happily exhausted - the kind of exhaustion that comes from 11-hour days in the field, boat rides, staying up late in a karaoke bar with new friends even though you know you'll have to wake up in 4 hours.  And the first sighting of a dorsal fin gliding through the still, early morning water makes waking up at 5:15am worthwhile.

Today was only my third day ever trying to get photo-ID-worthy pics of dolphins.  My first day was with bottlenose dolphins in San Diego; their relatives here in Malampaya Sound are much less obliging when it comes to showing me some fin.  But I love it...I definitely need more practice, but I'm already improving.  And my left arm is going to be BUFF by the end of this season - it's a pretty good workout, supprting the camera and 300mm lens (the latter awesomely lent to me by legend Bob Pitman) while on a gently rocking boat.

I do need to discipline myself to keep my eyes on the water and to always have my camera ready.  Yesterday, worried about the quality of my photos, I kept checking my camera's playback...and missed not 1, not 2, but 3 spyhops...I saw them, just couldn't get the camera up in time.  Same thing today - was fidgeting around with the GPS unit, only to hear E say "oh...spyhop.  You missed it!"  E, Z, the boatman, and a ranger who came out with us today were getting really into spotting the dolphins: "Tara, one at 10 o'clock!"  "3 o'clock!"  "No, E., I think it's more a quarter to 3..."  "Dolphins all around the clock!"

Being on the water with the dolphins is so invigorating.  I forget to eat breakfast or drink anything until we leave the dolphins and take the boat to the fishing villages to interview fishers.  Fortunately, E and Z make sure I get my fill of Energen (instant hot cereal), and the fishers are often quick to offer me kape (coffee).  I don't drink coffee at home, yet I find that the fishers of Malampaya Sound have me borderline addicted to super-sweet instant coffee with powdered creamer.  I started shaking a little yesterday.  I think I may need to start eating food prior to visiting the fishing villages.

People have been so very accommodating...it's not just the kape (and the snacks that sometimes accompany the kape).  Almost as soon as they see that they have visitors, the fishers or someone in their house pulls out a bench or chair for me to sit in, or vacates their seat and offers it to me.  Often, the wives and children of the fishers will gather around, smiling at me, laughing delightedly whenever I speak Tagalog, asking questions about me and showering me with compliments ("maganda siya!"), shooing curious dogs and wandering chickens away while E and Z are bombarding the fisher with interview questions.  People will help guide us to the next cluster of homes.  Women who run the small sari-sari stores will cook a modest lunch for us - we pay, of course, but only for the ingredients, and they serve us in their home and often offer food that we didn't pay for. One woman even did so while in the middle of re-thatching her roof.

It's really been lovely to have the chance to meet these people.  It's also nice to recognize interviewees out fishing while we're looking for dolphins - they always wave and broadcast a big, friendly smile.  I wonder what they think of the American woman who comes around to pester them with questions, gets easily distracted by puppies and piglets, and wanders around in a boat taking photos of dolphins.

And I wish there were some way I could help them out of their poverty.  I wish there were some way I could repay all the kindness they've shown me, a complete stranger, over the fast few weeks.

I'm just a little black rain cloud

August 25

Just about 3 weeks left here in Taytay.  For much of today, I was in the sort of mood that sees that as a comfort. 

Maybe it’s the fatigue remaining after being sick.  Maybe it’s the oppressive, grey weather.  But I’m in one of those leaden funks.  Started early this morning – early morning seems to breed a feeling of... smallness... in me.  The lonely clarity of the cell phone alarm, ringing through the still darkness of the pre-dawn morning, jolting me out of blissful sleep.  I felt alone, cold, lost.  I pined for San Diego, for the comfort of my parents' home.  A blustery, howling storm passed through Taytay last night, and the cool air and splatterings of rain blowing through my window left me feeling tired and insignificant.

View of the Taytay sign from down by the fortress

It must be the exhaustion, because I can think of no other reason why I was anything other than enthusiastic about the prospect of my first morning on the water looking for 'waddies (Irrawaddy dolphins).  Though the fisher interviews have been going very well, my favorite fieldwork has been and probably will always be watching non-human beings, getting lost in their world and feeling a very spiritual connection with these other living creatures (ha, I'm such a dolphin-hugger...).  It's more than just the scientific questions, which I of course find fascinating (especially when it comes to social behavior and habitat use by individuals); it's more than being driven by a conservation ethic.  At the heart of it, I "just really think they're neat", to quote Jeremy Jackson.

We had no luck with the 'waddies today, unfortunately - I'm sure a good day on the water would've done wonders for my spirit.  But the weather hadn't shaped up yet, and the waters were dark and choppy.  My mood was dark and choppy.  I'm ready to curl up in the fetal position and sleep.  After data entry.  Tedious, tedious data entry.

*************************************

Raining, raining, raining…I've been sitting here in my room, just relaxing and listening to the pitter-pattering of raindrops on the roof, and my blerghness is falling away, precipitating downward to the sea, mixed in with all that makes up my life but no longer weighing me down in sullen grey. 

Can't see me, my eyes are closed

Scenes from a day of fisher interviews, Barangay Bato

August 24

Brilliant day – the kind of brilliance that melds perfectly with the drone of cicadas.  A scrawny, but soft and relatively clean, puppy snoozes blissfully at my feet.  Loud, heartfelt, plaintive karaoke singing by what sounds to be very, very drunk men in some house nearby arouses the occasional giggle or shake of the head from the women and kids sitting in the dusty shade.   We’re in Barangay Bato, interviewing fishers here in anticipation of even more drunken revelry at Old Guinlo, where we were originally going to work today before I realized it was the day of the town fiesta.

I’m tired.  Very tired.  Too tired to try to speak Tagalog, to pay close attention during the interviews, to think much of anything at all.  No fun at all.  I even turned down an invitation to Old Guinlo's festivities last night.  All I want to do is go lie down and sleep…in my big comfy bed in San Diego, with my cool, smooth sheets and oh-so-luxurious pillows.  At every break, I close my eyes, hoping that the world will just fall away for a little bit until I'm ready to deal with it again.

E and Z can tell that I'm not my normal self.  I find even their concern stressful, and close my eyes or look away when I see them watching me with thoughtful and worried expressions.  Every time a decision needs to be made, I again close my eyes, say something vague, pretend I didn't hear, hoping that things will resolve themselves.  Leadership!  

Example: "Tara, do you want to take lunch now?"  That's how they usually ask if we can have lunch...very polite, but for some reason, today I find the politeness grating.  Why don't they just come out and say they're hungry?!, grumpy Tara growls from her dark, dark den of despair.  Grumpy Tara is not known for being reasonable in any way.

"I'm not hungry - my appetite hasn't come back. But if you want to, you can go ahead.  It's up to you"  What an utterly useless answer.  Totally disregards their politeness.  I close my eyes.  I know they're uncomfortable with having to make this decision, but my eyes are closed, so no one can see me, so it's not my problem.

I can slide into moods like that when I'm super drained.  Yesterday, for example, we met a man who was extremely friendly but also a little too...deep... for me (I was also feeling exhausted yesterday).  Grumpy Tara has no patience for anything remotely overly-sentimental, so his comments such as "I'm sure, when you leave here, you will find that the Philippines has become a part of you, that you are the Philippines" roused her enough to come out of her den and be a little bratty when he asked me, "What are the three things that you want to come away from the Philippines with?"  I knew he wanted something deep, but I acted deliberately obtuse:  "I would like good data for my thesis.  Maybe some nice pearls as a souvenir for my mother.  And I would also like a lot of good photos."  He smiled and shook his head.  (I am never, ever rude to people when I travel, just less obliging than I could be at times).

Back to Bato: Grumpy Tara was subdued and made feel guilty when E and Z, shocked by the "lunch" I had brought (2 bananas...), got the woman running the little sari-sari store to heat up some water and bought me some vitamin-enriched hot cereal, mixed it with the hot water, and made me eat up. 

Their kindness really lifted my spirits.  And the day really was a stunningly gorgeous one.  We waited for the bus back to Taytay on the rusty yellow benches by the road, the afternoon sun painting everything in vividly warm colors.  The bus, cheery in red and green, pulled up after only 10 minutes, and we ran gleefully across the road and hopped in.  Still too tired to talk much, I leaned back and admired the passing scenery, and marveled at the beauty around me.  What would I like to take back from the Philippines?  Memories of the warm, caring people; mental snapshots from mellow afternoon landscapes as seen from an airy bus; yet another experience living life somewhere far from the comforts of home in San Diego, feeling like the world is my playgrround to explore and learn in.

Piglets in Bato. Piglets and puppies...how could anyone not be happy?

"I think you will find your partner in Palawan."

I've found people in the Philippines to be lovely and friendly on the whole, and that friendliness is accompanied by a level of curiosity about my life - manifested in a stock set of questions that I've been asked what seems like countless times:

"Where are you from?"  "San Diego, California."  Good, good.  

"How many siblings?"  "2."  Ok, still good.

"What do you do?"  "Ako ay estudiante."  Fine, fine.

"Are you single?"  "Yes."  Good, goo- ... wait, did she say single?!  

The next step tends to be to explore my motives for being single or to explore my eligibility for being set-up with an acquaintaince.  This question is not solely asked by pervy single men, but by genuinely inquisitive people of all ages and backgrounds.

(Sometimes, this is asked as "Are you still single?", which perhaps means that I appear to be past my prime. Fortunately, I'm not particularly sensitive to the issue of my age or relationship status, but it always makes me giggle when I'm asked that way).

"Why are you single?"  I've found that saying "I haven't found anyone good enough yet" works pretty well - it at least garners a few laughs, especially from women.  And it's basically the truth in an nutshell.  I've tried "I prefer to travel" or "I'm too busy" as being simple, if incomplete, explanations, but they just seem to engender more confusion.

"How old are you?" - a question that generally is a quick follow-up to the "Are you single?". Here are a few examples of this progression:

(1) Taxi driver, Manila:  "Oh, it is ok you are single, you have plenty of time...wait, how old? Oh, maybe not so much time..."

(2) Woman in a fishing village, Guimaras - earlier this year: "Single?  Ah. How old?  26? Good!  You are coming back next year?  Ah, ok!" (she smiles).  Maybe when I go back to Guimaras next year, she'll have a husband waiting for me.  But, in case she doesn't, I may have a suitable alternative here in Palawan:

(3)  Meeting with the municipal council in Taytay, regarding my research endorsements:

In the course of some routine questions about my research, one of the councilors asks: 

"So, Miss...Whitty...you are single?"  

"...Ah, yes..."  

"No boyfriend?"  

"No, no boyfriend."  

("She is too busy!" chimed in the woman next to me - one of the few people I've come across who understood that explanation).

"How old are you?"  

"27." 

"Ah! 27! You were born in 1983? What month?"

"July."

"My son, he is your age!  A few months older." (Eyebrows raised).

For a split second, I was unsure how I should react - I didn't want to offend anyone, after all.  Should I act interested to be polite ("Oh, really? What is his phone number?"), smile politely, what?  Fortunately, everyone else in the room began to laugh, including the father of the eligible young man. (Which brings up something else I love about working here - people are so ready to laugh and be happy).

As he left that room at the end of the meeting, he said "Don't worry, I was just kidding. Well, he really is your age...ok, ok, I will go now."

(Beyond my lack of ball-and-chain, the fact that I'm traveling alone also seems to be somewhat odd.  One confused tricycle driver said, "You are a lady, but you travel alone...I think this is very unusual."  I specify (always) that I am working with people in Taytay - I do this more for my safety than to make anyone feel less confused, but sometimes it helps unfurrow confused brows somewhat.  I'm surprised that people aren't more accustomed to seeing female solo travelers, since the Philippines isn't exactly off the beaten path for backpackers.)

One of the researchers I've worked with here assured me that, even when I get married someday, I will still seem like an oddity until I have children:  "That's the next question.  Do you have children?  Why not?!"

On a rain-spattered, fresh afternoon following a long day of fisher interviews, Z and I hitched a ride back to Taytay in the back of a pickup truck with some Protected Area researchers. I sat on a bag of corn and durian, which was surprisingly comfortable, relishing the feeling of the wind cleaning away the dust and grime from the day.  Z introduced me to our fellow passengers in the bed of the truck - all very friendly, polite men, who let me practice my stilted Tagalog.  One asked the inevitable question:  "Are you single?"

"Yes."

"Ah. I think you will find your partner in Palawan."  And, after we all laughed, the conversation moved on.  

Country Roads

Puerto Princesa

Taking one last big breath of fast, free internet before I take a tricycle to the bus station and board a rickety bus for Taytay.  Ahhhh, internet...

Though taking a group van is a faster way of getting around, I prefer the no-frills bus.  I feel claustrophobic in the vans, which (in my experience) have been more crowded than the bus.  I love just sitting back, gazing out the window and absorbing the scenery that flits by, and ruminating over whatever thoughts happen to enter my relaxed brain.  

It's the same in every tropical countryside that I've driven through: Lush, thick vegetation lines the road and looms in the distance, blanketing mountains and reaching down to the palm trees by the sea.  These forests seem to hold endless secrets and mysteries within their green tangled limbs...shooting by them on a man-made road in a man-made machine seems such a juxtaposition...

I also love watching the people that we drive past, going about their daily business.  A major revelation for me as a traveler was that, though I may once have considered myself "tough" for enduring cold showers and no electricity and hole-in-the-ground toilets during my travels, people actually live with these conditions their whole lives.  I'm not tough, just pampered.  Realizing that people have lived this way and continue to live this way makes it easier to deal with difficult living conditions - there is some comfort to be had that these are not insurmountable discomforts, but just another way of life.  (That said, my living conditions for this trip are actually pretty luxurious).  

It's fascinating to just watch how people go about their lives, and to realize that there are so many different ways to living in this world.

Feeling much more like super-Tara this morning. It's easy when you're feeling awful to wonder, "Am I EVER going to feel normal again?"  Just in time to go out and check out the dolphins next week!

Don't you bacteria understand that I have work to do?

August 18

Strange, urgent flutterings outside my window, seeming to signal some impending event.  Just termites out, after a long day of rainy weather, their wings reflecting the light from my room through the screen.  Some flower outside is putting forth a heavenly sweet scent.  Frogs and crickets going crazy.

Sitting here in bed, with my dinner, feeling tired and hot and mellow.  Struck down by a bacterial infection, with fever, aches in my joints and muscles, and intense headache.  Went to the hospital this morning, with Z helping me get checked in before she went to work with E.  I fainted after they took a blood sample – I think it must have been from me already not feeling well, because it was a tiny amount of blood. 

Murmurings bubbled  through my brain.  I had the sense of being home in Poway, in the shaded sitting room by Mama’s desk, talking with someone about how nice it was to be back.  My eyes opened, to bright fluorescent lights and nurses with worried faces. In an instant, I realized – with a fair degree of bemusement – that I was in a wheelchair, being lifted onto a bed, still at the hospital in Taytay.  I'd just taken a little vacation from reality.

(BTW, total cost of the hospital trip: $4)

Came back to Casa Rosa, weak, feverish, hurting all over.  Tottered up the steep stairs.  Spent the afternoon sleeping, beads of sweat pouring out, eclectic semi-thoughts darting through my brain. 

My main concern was missing work, but Z and E did 22 interviews today – they are amazing, and at this point I'm confident that they are conducting the interviews correctly.  I do like to be there to scout out key informants and ask follow-up questions, but the priority for this month is rapid coverage with these short interviews...so, good.

Two of the Casa Rosa ladies stopped by my cottage to check on me and to let me know they could bring food to my room – very sweet.  One also fashioned a neat contraption to trap the termites who flushed into my room – a plastic bag below my light.  It worked – most of them are now contained in a blue plastic jail.  Pretty cool.

27 Toilets

August 14
One of the benefits of staying at Casa Rosa is that I've met some very interesting people passing through as I sit in the restaurant doing work.  The most interesting so far, and one of the loveliest, have been D., a young tour guide working at El Nido, and his girlfriend G.

D. started talking with me this morning as I was waiting for my breakfast.  Like most other people I meet here, he was curious, though exceedingly polite: I was traveling alone?  What was I doing here?  Was I single?  Why?

When he found out that I was studying local fisheries and conservation, he said: "Ah, it's very difficult. The fisherfolks, they need to make a living.  I used to be a fisherman.  It's a very, very hard life."  Intrigued, I asked him about his life story, which was truly inspirational:

His family is from a small fishing village in Taytay Bay.  He started fishing when he was only 14 years old - there was not enough money for him to finish his education (none of his 6 siblings had finished, and all were fishers).  Eventually, he found work as a boatman, which occasionally involved shuttling wealthy tourists to a luxurious resort in the bay.  He worked up the nerve to ask the resort manager for a job: "I was so shy.  But I kept telling myself, if he says no, then it is ok, nothing is worse than it is now.  If yes, then it is better."

Four months later ("March 27..."  "You remember the day?!"  "It was a very important day for me..."), he got the word - they needed someone to...clean toilets.  "27 toilets.  I remember.  Every morning, for a year, I cleaned each of those 27 toilets."  He was afraid of the tourists:  "Every time I saw one in the halls, I would hide.  I was too shy!"

He had to leave this job to help take care of his terminally-ill father, so he returned to fishing for a while.  One day, the resort sent a boat to his village ("I had no phone, no other way to contact me"), telling him that they needed staff in the laundry room.  A step up from toilets!

Then his break came.  His manager appreciated his work ethic, and noticed that he enjoyed making flower arrangements.  He got a new position helping set up fancy, private dinners in a cave on the resort's island.  Through this job, he overcame his fear of tourists, and taught himself English and Korean.  "I never took any classes...I just talked to the tourists, and I was always writing things down in my notebook, and I would study every night."

Eventually, one of the old tour guides retired.  With his language skills, D. was an ideal replacement.  While his siblings eke out a living fishing as their father did, he can afford a modest hotel room at Casa Rosa with his girlfriend during his time off.  All of this experience, and he is only 25 years old.

I found talking with D. and G. (a nurse, also from a family of fishers) very enlightening.  I hadn't thought of interviewing people who had made their way out of fishing villages, but I think I'll add that to my research plan.  Some highlights;

- Community-based monitoring plans - "Do you know what many fishers here really think of this?  It's a waste of time. What do they get?  How does it help them?  It is difficult for them to see."
- Cyanide fishing - G: "There are still some destructive fishing methods...like cyanide..."; starts to laugh; D: "She's laughing because I used to use cyanide.  That was before I learned how bad it was, though.  My family stopped using it."
- Illegal fishing by industrial boats - "Many fisherfolks think they have no choice to but to do illegal fishing, because big boats from big companies are also fishing illegally.  If the fisherfolks don't fish illegally, it's hard to get enough to eat, because the big boats take so much.  But no one controls the big boats."
- Population: "That's the problem, is that people have so many children, but they cannot support them. I tell my older brothers, 4, 5, 6 is too many, but they don't care what I say."

I'll definitely be talking with them again.

In my element

From August 12

What a fantastic day!  Fantastic life, actually.

Being in the field is so stimulating.  I feel so motivated, so driven, so energized.  Anxiety about my thesis fades as I reconnect with my passion for what I’m studying, as I engage with the actual process of pursuing useful, interesting knowledge expanded beyond the framework and pressure of “a thesis”.  Though frustrations arise – communication difficulties (especially regarding my vegetarian tendencies), collecting research endorsements, bad roads, mosquito bites – it is all part of the experience.  I think my tendency to overthink actually helps a great deal, as my mind is constantly churning through alternative scenarios.  And the difficulties, though at times somewhat daunting, must simply be dealt with.  No use getting tense about it.

My field assistants (E and Z) are, in a word, amazing.  Both were previously employed through the local government, but lost their contracts following the most recent election (ah, politics).  They both have experience working with fishers and WWF-Philippines, understand local fishing practices and regulations, and are extremely familiar with the area. Even though what I'm paying them is negligible by US standards (about $200/month), it's more than they made in their previous jobs.  

Cottage on the hill

Casa Rosa Cottages, Taytay, Palawan - August 8

This morning, as my jet-lagged body started to stir (despite my mind's most strict orders for it to stay sound asleep), I became dimly aware of the fading of night into day…the indigo light through the window slats…the morning symphony – roosters boisterously crowing, followed by the rambunctious dog chorus, with a gradually increasing frequency of tricycle and motorcycle motors chiming in, topped by the church bells ringing – flat, cacophonous, harsh, persistent – at 6am.

Spent a few days in Palawan's capital, Puerto Princesa, to get stocked up and make courtesy calls to government offices.  The result of the latter is that I now have a pile of paperwork to fill and am required to obtain official letters of endorsement from almost every conceivable level of government here.  Neither I nor my collaborators expected this.  Ah well.  Also ate virtually every meal at Ima's Gulay Bar (vegetarian restaurant). Amazing. Imitation meat tastes even better when you know you'll be struggling for vegetarian food for the next weeks.

I love my little netbook.  I wish Office 2010 weren’t written for 5-year olds.

Ah, the tropics…

View from Casa Rosa's Restaurant

So here I am in my home for the next month or so – Cottage 4.  The view of the fortress and bay is amazing.  While I shower, I can gaze upon the 500-year old stones of the dark, imposing edifice and the pumpboats gliding through the ever-changing waters of Taytay Bay.  The other 2 sides of the cottage are cradled by tropical greenery.  Cozy little home!  Which I'm sharing with my friends the geckos.

In Manila

Friendly’s Guesthouse, Manila - August 3

I cannot tell you how good it felt to finally sleep in a bed, and to take a shower.  But now the jet lag is kicking in, and though it’s just around 12:30 pm, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. A sleep truck.

My first day in-country is usually when my normal enthusiasm is beset by doubts.  Sometimes makes me wonder…I love traveling to tropical developing countries, but it is difficult sometimes.  It’s hard to feel like you don’t understand what’s going on.  It’s hard to think back to the comforting routine of home.  It’s hard to feel isolated.  I do miss fieldwork at established field stations, where there is a community of other researchers, with basic infrastructure set up.  But this independent mode of travel and work allows me greater flexibility and lets me get closer to local people and culture, instead of nuzzling into the relative shelter of a hive of fellow American researchers.

Looking at my calendar...seems like time will zip by.  Is it bad that I'm already counting down the days?

I think when I get to Puerto and have a solid night’s rest, my mood will lighten and I will be better able to process what I need to do.

Back to the beginning: Journal entry from August 2

Detroit airport, near the water feature, en route to the Philippines

Though conventional wisdom would have it that the best way of getting from San Diego to the Philippines does not involve first flying east to Michigan with a 10 hour layover, that is how my ticket was booked by the travel agency.  I was too frazzled at the time of booking to check the flight details…  On the bright side, that does give me plenty of time to catch up on work that I didn’t manage to complete during the past weeks of preparing for the field, moving out of my apartment, and trying to enjoy San Diego living to the best of my abilities.  And so, I am writing a journal entry.

I’m torn – as always happens during trips – between a typed journal and a handwritten journal in a bound, leathery book that makes me feel like a good ol’ fashioned traveler/field researcher.  Typing is easier.  Hand-writing has that certain character to it.  I’ll do both, as the spirit moves me…

Just as last summer signaled the start of a new chapter for me, so this trip signifies yet another transition to what will be an even better round of adventure and life.

Wow, my back hurts…moving out of an apartment and sitting on a plane are not fantastic for the spine.  Can’t wait to sleep in a bed in 27 hours.  Dang, why didn’t I check that plane ticket more closely?  Ah well, lesson learned.

At times, I feel almost uneasy about not being more stressed.  This trip seems particularly easy, since I just visited the Philippines in the spring, and since I planned out in more detail than I have for recent trips and since it’s not really in the middle of nowhere.  But there’s a nagging little leprechaun sitting on my shoulder, whispering little doubts…I think I’m fine, though.  Isn’t it funny that it’s so difficult to be relaxed?

Similarly, isn’t it funny how difficult it is to accept happiness sometimes?  I’ve found that I’ve become a more positive person, turning stress into eager anticipation, loneliness into appreciation for solitude, nostalgia into appreciation for the past; letting things roll as they will and just reacting in whatever way makes me feel at peace; appreciating life, the universe, and everything.  Does that take away from the fire and passion of the human experience?  I’ve wondered that.  But I don’t think so – not the way I do it, anyway.  It’s just a more happy fire and passion, and I still feel plenty of sadness and anger – I just try to not be swayed by it as much but rather acknowledge and understand it on a deep level without being thrown off balance.

Before beginning this rambling entry, I was trying to make a point that this next chapter in my life will include a lot of rambling around.  I think I want to be somewhat of a gypsy in the coming months, minimizing material attachment to a “home” and associated belongings, and exploring more.  The next year or so remains very unplanned, and could go several different ways – and that is truly thrilling.

Tara, Tara na!

Blearily creating a blog (the word still sounds so new-fangled to me...scary!) while reclining limply on a bottom bunk in a guesthouse dorm room was not something that I had planned on doing during this SE Asian adventure.  For one, I have much too much work to do.  Also, internet connection's usually not so great.  This is all a huge surprise to me. I. am. shocked.

But boredom is the mother of unnecessary, frivolous pastimes.  I've been struck down by a nasty bacterial infection that lingers on, and renders me exhausted and faint.  I'm actually tired of sleeping, and too tired to work, and the internet here at the Banwa Art House in Puerto Princesa is fantastically fast. So here we go.  Tara na!  (that means "let's go!" in Tagalog, and I still think that people are constantly calling my name).

These'll mainly be excerpts from my journal that I've been keeping.  Actually keeping 2 journals...one typed, one hand-written, because each offers their own merits.  This causes me much angst, and has done so for many of my travels already.  I don't see it being resolved in the near future.

ah. By the way: Ravoravo is Malagasy for "happy". Right, I'm not in Madagascar.  But I like the word.