Gelene

My family immigrated to Toronto, Canada on March 9, 2001.

I remember looking at the weather report before our flight and seeing a negative sign (-) before the “1” on the Celsius. I processed that it was minus 1 but I didn’t believe my logic, thinking there must be another explanation.
“No, it’s below 0°C. The temperature there right now is below 0,” said my mother as we watched from our television in Quezon City, Metro Manila.

“What the fuck? What does that even feel like?” I thought.

I wore jeans, a long-sleeved shirt and brought one of those puffy jackets that my aunt had sent in from New York (she’s already been living there for about 5 years or so by the time we got the papers to bounce). I wore it in the Philippines and immediately started sweating. I thought that must be more than enough because it was so thick and insulated. I was proven wrong when we landed.

Before we arrived, however, we were bombarded with in-flight ads for antidepressants and I remember thinking, “WTF? Is it that bad out here? I thought these people were living better lives and here we are getting away from a developing country. Aren’t these guys a major key player nation? I don’t get it.”
I didn’t get it until I got depressed myself, for years. Right around the time I started healing, I realized that the problem wasn’t depression; it’s spiritual poverty.

But I didn’t know that yet when I tested the stinky, puffy jacket once we landed. As we waited for our ride, I decided to wear the jacket and momentarily step outside to get a feel of -1°C.
Once I stepped out, I couldn’t move. I was so cold. I remember not wanting my skin to touch my clothes which turned ice cold. I counted down from 10 to -1 before I mustered the courage to run back to the airport.

I remember seeing the piles of snow, neatly tucked and mounded on the lawn areas in the suburbs. I knew snow didn’t fall like that but I couldn’t understand then how the city managed to “organize the snow.” The Philippines doesn’t nearly have the budget nor the kind of facilities and technology to be ready for such things. I’ve only ever lived in Southeast Asia before then so I couldn’t fathom these ideas at the time.

Fast forward 23 years later, I went back to the motherland a very different person and then went back to Toronto afterward, also a little different.

One of the first things I did when I arrived back in Toronto was dispose of about a third of my wardrobe and several other items. I’ve been holding on to them thinking that they might, eventually, be useful but it’s been years since I even bothered interacting with these things. It just didn’t make any sense anymore.

After living off a backpack and a personal bag item for a month, constantly on the road (or on a flight or on a boat), interacting with locals and indigenous tribes who live richer lives with much less, I realized how much bullshit, nonsense, and excess I have allowed to accumulate in my life.

I brought a 45-liter hiking backpack (any larger and I would’ve needed to check it in which I was avoiding), a small sling bag, and a foldable water-resistant bag that I packed in. I didn’t have room to bring my own wetsuit, unfortunately (it’s just more comfortable for me plus rental ones tend to be worn out like a 3mm wetsuit ends up feeling like a 1mm or less lol) but I did manage to pack a GoPro with an underwater housing with some accessories, a dive mask, and my dive watch.

I actually overpacked. Imagine that lol.

Here’s a good chunk of my luggage:
– 5 tops (tank and shirts)
– 4 bottoms (all shorts)
– 4 pieces of bras (I used my bikini tops as bras sometimes)
– 6 underwear
– 7 pairs of socks (thinking that I’ll be sweating all the time but then I got there and I didn’t wanna wear closed shoes – I wore sandals the entire time and only used my sneakers in the plane to and from Canada). I got rid of 5 of them during the middle of the trip (donated to hotel staff)
– 3 bikini tops, 3 bikini bottoms
– sandals (order true to size as I ordered half a size larger and it was a little too big)
– toiletry bag
– money belt (the type you can hide under your clothing)
– GoPro accessory bag with the camera and some of the accessories (half of which I didn’t use)

I wore a sweater and a t-shirt with capri pants for the flight to and from Toronto. I never used capri pants when I was in the country (too hot that I just wore shorts) and I only ever used the sweater when I was in the mountains. It took up so much space it was a hassle.
I did laundry a total of about 3 times in a month… and no, I didn’t bring a towel. Never needed to until I got to Buscalan (Whang-Od, the old lady tattooist’s village). I bought a $5 CAD / 200 PHP microfibre towel at a local mall that I was going to use for just that night.

As for being a solo female traveller: I’ve just done it so many times at this point that it wasn’t even something that I was that worried about. It’s only the second time I backpacked though, like ever, and solo. I did bring a portable door lock and someone advised me about putting some hot sauce in a spray container (brilliant) because I can’t bring pepper spray on board. I never had to use it though I kept it in hand for times when I was freaking out since I was, statistically speaking, a perpetrator’s best bet. Other than that, I was actually walking in the dark, at night, during some points in the more rural areas where people are less corrupt. The rule of thumb is that the bigger the population, the more likely you are to get ripped off. I got ripped off a total of probably about $50 CAD (2,000 PHP). In the Philippines, that can get you about 5 decent meals, public transportation for getting around in a city for a day, possibly a souvenir or two, and a pack of cigarettes.

Yes, I was smoking (again) because scuba divers smoke like fucking chimneys. I know you would think otherwise because we need healthy lungs but I suppose some rules don’t apply like how the Badjaus (indigenous peoples in Southeast Asia, some of which reside in the Philippines) are sea gypsies who spearfish while freediving in the ocean, expertly so that they have actually developed larger spleens to hold more oxygen. They, too, smoke like fucking chimneys.

“Ay yan ho mga Badjau (Oh there are the Badjaus!)” said the cab driver from one of my trips to the airport. He was pointing out to beggars during traffic.
“Badjaus? Hindi po ba sila sa dagat nakatira? Sikat ho yun dun sa North America kasi nandun sila sa National Geographic. People are in awe of their abilities. (Badjaus? Don’t they live near the oceans? They’re popular in North America because they’re in National Geographic and BBC. People are in awe of their abilities,” I said.

“Ah ‘pag wala silang kita sa pangingisda, nagpupunta ho sila dito sa Maynila para malimus. Wala kasi silang alam na gawin kundi yun at wala rin silang suporta sa gobyerno. Alam naming native sila tsaka minsan nakakaawa pero napeperwisyo rin ang mga tao dito kasi tayo nagtra-trabaho at sila malaking kita sa pagmamalimos (Ah when they don’t earn anything on fishing or spearfishing, they come here to Manila to be beggars. They don’t have any other skills but that and they don’t have support from the government. We know they’re indigenous and sometimes we pity them but sometimes they’re a hassle too because we work hard and meanwhile they earn decent money on begging alone).” the cab driver replied.

Developing larger spleens to hold more oxygen is essentially the closest thing to being a mutant like X-Men or something as far as advanced genetic mutations go… and somehow, they’re beggars.

I told one of my friends about this while we were out for drinks.

Lotsa real talk with friends I haven’t seen in over a decade!

“Parang hindi accurate yung pinapakita nila sa Nat Geo/BBC, (It seems that National Geographic/BBC doesn’t paint the whole picture),” Roger said.
“Yeah,” I replied. “I’m gonna write about it. People need to know.”
My friend nodded in agreement.

And so my physical, mental, and emotional journey began, uncovering truths along the way, some of which, to be honest, I was not ready for but grateful to have known nonetheless.

It has been a privilege just as much as I gained more awareness of how privileged I am.

Trip Itinerary

Dec 8 – Dec 9:
Dubai (layover)

Dec 9 – Dec 11:
Manila (inadvertent layover)

Dec 11 – Dec 16:
Malapascua, Cebu (scuba diving, alone with fellow tourists)

Dec 16 – Dec 18:
Manila (friends and family)

Dec 18 – Dec 20:
San Juan, La Union (surfing, family and friend)

Dec 20 – Dec 21:
Manila (family)

Dec 21 – Dec 22:
Sablayan (town to access scuba diving island, surprise cultural delights!)

Dec 22 – Dec 24:
Apo Reef / Apo Island (diving, alone with fellow tourists)

Dec 24 – Dec 25:
San Jose, Mindoro (town after diving, transit back to Manila)

Dec 25 – Dec 27:
San Fernando, Pampanga (Filipino Christmas lanterns, alone)

Dec 27 – Dec 30:
Manila (friends and family)

Dec 30 – Jan 1:
Buscalan, Tinglayan, Kalinga (Whang-Od and hiking, alone with fellow local tourists)

Jan 1 – Jan 3:
Sagada (mountains hiking, alone added by a fellow local tourist)

Jan 3 – Jan 5:
Manila (friends)

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I saw some family and some old friends whom I hadn’t seen in well over a decade, some I hadn’t seen in about 25 years. Those may not be necessarily in my entries as they are the learnings for me and may be too personal to share. If I mention them, it’s because I feel there might be some universal lessons that others may pick up.

If I mention friends whom I interacted with, it’s because they were part of conversations that had a broader topic that I’d like to share.