"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.