September 19, 2011 Good-bye, Good-bye, Good-bye Colo

A final, heartfelt hug to my kind and gentle but smart and feisty counterpart, Ma'am Grace at Colo Elementary. Good-bye to all the teachers and to Principal Mister Lingod. We three worked through some pretty interesting "cultural experiences" together. It's pretty cool, actually. 

Good-bye to the citizens of Colo, who always smiled and always stopped to talk to me even though they knew my Tagalog would be an assault on their ears.  

Jo who ran the Internet Cafe out of her house, sitting behind the counter on her white, plastic chair, her little one-year-old climbing around on the white, plastic chair beside her. 

Good-bye to the Crossing Guard at Colo Elementary, who took his job very seriously, treating me and every other person like I was the only one to cross the street that day. And who also paused from his task to relieve himself along the street when necessary. Of course, because that's what men and boys do. Of course.

Good-bye to the owners of the Sari-sari where I bought my cell phone "load". To the many people who greeted me sunnily whenever they'd see me striding along the main road to class. Back and forth at least 4 times a day. Regardless of the many times Amy would tell me, "Slow down, you're walking faster than anyone else in the Philippines!" I still walk fast. But THEY didn't seem put off by my VeryFastAmericanWalk, regardless of what you may say, Amy.  But who knows, maybe I missed seeing  them pulling their children back from my path like mothers  do when a semi is barrelling down on them. I haven't noticed it but I guess I wouldn't- I'm too busy barrelling along.

To all the adorable pupils at the school who came running up to say hello whenever they saw me. Amazing, joyful, humbling, to have such unguarded affection shown me.  

To the man who walked the streets every morning and evening calling a drawled-out version of the word "Balut" which is what he sold (hard-boiled, fertilized eggs). And to the man who rode the streets every morning before daylight, honking his Keystone Kops kind of rubber ball with the tin horn on the end. The nasal sound of that honk meant freshly baked "pandesol", little clouds of yeast rolls. (Too bad, but Ate quit buying from him because he was late one time too many. My pandesol were from the nearby Sari-sari.) 

Then there is the man who peddled his cart along the streets in the afternoon, offering homemade ice-cream in sugar cones. He announced his presence by trilling a typical bike bell, the kind that are metal and thumb driven. 

Good-bye to the families I'd pass and exchange greetings with, each family busy with daily outdoor chores, like bathing children, weeding, plucking chickens, cutting Lolo's (Grandpa's) hair. 

Good-bye to everyone on my family compound. The Ate's, the Kuya's, the bata (children), the dogs, hens, roosters and everyone else. 

Making Lumpia Shanghai. You'll be glad I learned to make these when I give you a taste.

Good-bye to you Christopher. You truly were a host "brother" to me from day one, when you sat down by me in the living room, settled in and started talking like you really meant it. You never stopped acting like a brother. No matter how many times I made you talk to me. Thanks for playing our own version of Scrabble. (Tagalog words get double points. I learned "sawi" means "heartbreak". Played it across a triple and got 6 times the points!)

Thank you for helping me rig up ways to catch the rain dripping into my room. Thank you for cleaning and rearranging my room when I was gone to Supervisors Conference. Thank you for this message you left me on my table, made from our Scrabble tiles and the shells you brought me from the shore.

This is what I saw when I returned from a week away and walked into my room:

                                    

  Rachelle, notice the card?

  

Good-bye to you, the whole wonderful, warm and fun and funny community of people who showed up for the "Handog sa Host Families". I will always enjoy remembering with what gusto you played Musical Chairs! My kind of folks! I loved watching you, Ate, (Barangay Captain Secretary, mind you) win Musical Chairs by shamelessly cheating and pulling the chair around and straddling it. You fought like the fighting cocks you raise, Ate Lillian! 

note to all: see the video of us PCV's playing. It's on Facebook at this point. I'll try to move it here. 

Most of all it was hard to pack up my little nesting space in your house, Ate,  and say good-bye to you. It meant so much to me when you  managed the 3 1/2 hour trip to Island Cove so you could see my Swearing-In. You were mentor and became a dear, reliable friend.

 Here's to you, Ate!

                                            At Swearing In.

Thanks to kind and strong Jersen, my host bro-in-law. It has been a pleasure watching you be such a good husband and father. Thank you for making me a skirt, for altering my blouse and for mending my clothes. Good luck with your upholstery business. I'm glad you were willing to use your customer's Jeep to load all my luggage and drive us to the bus at 6:00am. Thank you, also, for staying and helping the bus drivers haul the overload of luggage around to get it all stored in the back of the bus.
Good-bye to always helpful, sassy Apple, and to the good cook, Bernadette. Good-bye to Jeffrey, who was a silent but pleasant brother. Ate was right when she told me in the beginning that wherever I was, you would be somewhere else to avoid the possibility of having to speak English.
It was hard to say good-bye.
But I did, and headed off for Counterpart's Conference. That week went by in a blur as we worked and had fun with our fellow trainees. Excitement and emotions mounted as we counted down days to Swearing In.
Then that wonderful night was over.

Celebrating with Amy after swearing in

Little parade of a few of us PCVs and the Host Families that rented a van to see our Ceremony. We're heading for the van to see them off, back to Colo. Ate is in red, Amy in blue with her host family.




We said good-bye to them, and Richard, Amy and I climbed into a van with our counterparts and a few others to head to Batangas.
I was enjoying the pleasant conversation but also feeling myself gradually shrinking at the prospect of being deposited into a new family, a new community, a new school. What would all this mean to me? What was I facing? 
Now my timidity was taking over and I really didn't want to step out of the van when the few hour trip was over and we pulled up to my home. I did though, of course, and Amy got out with me to be friendly. The teachers and Amy and I walked onto the balcon and the family was there waiting to welcome me. They surrounded me and greeted me and welcomed me. I felt nothing but warm hospitality. Still, I felt the same way I had on my first day in Colo.Shaky and a little weepy. 
I asked Amy to please just leave because I thought it would help me to stabilize a little. She did and I was drawn in to have my first meal with my new family. After that I rested. That regimen seems to be the only way to help myself in times like this. Eat, rest, breath, pray. 

What was ramping up my anxiety was the specter of the big welcome at the school and my future role there. Without knowing a thing about my school or anyone there, I knew that the welcome would be profuse.
I felt a little panicky at all this emotion, but I tried to believe I could just walk through it a step at a time and hopefully I would be feeling more relaxed as time went on.
I have found myself pondering if I can really trust all this goodness people are showering me and each other with. I am practicing standing still, taking some deep breaths and breathing in the goodness of people. What do I have to loose? And what do I have to gain??? Breathe, just breathe.
And unpack. And get some sleep.