What the hell?

Today was our last full day at our site, tomorrow night will be our last night with our host families here in Camarines Sur. The day proved to be, hands down, one of the most bizarre (yet wonderful) days that we’ve had here so far.

The day began at 8:30 when we went to Pili to stop by several municipal offices to thank for their assistance and to drop off certificates. When we arrived at the mayor’s office we chatted for a while and he told us that there were more Americans there and that there was a basketball game going on, we should go. So we all traipsed downstairs to the basketball court and took a seat. It turns out the two teams playing were a Filipino team and a group of American and Filipino missionaries. After talking to the guys for a while, it seems that their gig is going around to different barangays playing basketball and at half-time, taking the opportunity to talk about religion. Interesting program, seems it’s multinational and has been in the Philippines for about 50 years.

About halfway through the first quarter, Noah thought it might be fun to give it a try and went off to ask the Filipino team if he could play for them. They agreed. They found him a team t-shirt and a pair of sneakers to wear and got him right in the game. Good thing, ’cause the Americans were creaming them and he helped to balance out the game a little. The Filipinos still lost, but not as badly as they might have. Meanwhile, the announcer kept referring to Noah as “the import.” It was quite amusing.

After the morning in Pili, we returned home to have language class and our host family despedida. We had an abbreviated language class and had to run off with the hub staff to say a few more thanks and drop off a few more certificates at the local college, which helped us with our workshop, and at the Governor’s office. Of the four places we stopped, only one person was actually in to receive us- the professor who trained us for our workshop. We had yet to meet the gov, he was always too busy to ever show up for any of our appointments.

When we got back to our despedida, a few guests had arrived- but it seems that not all of our host families had gotten the message, because my host mother was the only one to show up. We ate our fill of delicious, delicious baked goods and overly sweet tang “juice” before heading home from our last class at our cluster site. Before leaving, we had decided to meet later to head to a concert at the nearby Kaogma Festival at the Capitol Complex. A very well known, well-loved, much enjoyed by us, Bamboo, was playing for free. The American equivalent would be if one of the most popular bands in the country showed up in a small state capitol and put on a free show- an amazing opportunity to hear something more than the bad American pop music that rules the airwaves here. The capitol complex is perhaps a 20 minute walk from our barangay, so we decided to hoof it. The night was cooling and we had plenty of time. About half-way there a large gate opened up and a black SUV backed out, blocking our path. After we waited for it to pull into the street, a window rolled down and a young man asked (in perfect English), “Are you going to the festival? Do you want a ride?” We contemplated this for a moment and decided, “what the hell?” and got in. This is the point in the story where things could have gone very differently, had we not accepted this ride our whole evening would have changed.

After we piled in, we talked to the two young men in the car and asked why they were here. Turns out the guy driving them is the brother-in-law of our elusive governor, they were staying at his guest house (the place with the big gates) for a few months and were wakeboarders from Manila. They asked us if we wanted to ride over to the brand-new wakeboarding course with them and we thought, “what the hell?” and rode on.

When we got there, it was obvious that a bit of a party was going on so we just followed our new friends. Up close, it was apparent that the party was a catered dinner for the foreign professional wakeboarders that were here for the festival. It was the one place in the entire area that was overrun with white people, the one place we didn’t obviously stick out. They had a fantastic buffet, an open bar and a live band. We sat down; Noah grabbed himself a plate and dug in. It took us a while to start talking to people, but we did chat a bit with some of the athletes- most of them ignored us, but some were pretty nice. The friendliest people we met there were two Filipinas from Pili who were excited when we told them where we’d been living and tried to speak some Bikol.

It was at this point that someone pointed out that our governor was present. Not only was he hosting the function, but it seems he instigated bringing the crew in for the festival (and building the course) because he is also a wakeboarder. The governor is pretty young, we guessed him to be no more than 27. We commented on the irony of the situation, ho was it that we couldn’t catch him in the office but bumped into him while crashing a party. When we told one of the Australians there about our misadventures trying to meet the gov. He assured us that he was really nice and said we should just go over and say hi. The others were a bit shy about it, but I thought, “what the hell?” and walked over and introduced myself and told him what we were doing here. The music was pretty loud, so he didn’t seem to hear much of what we said. He then introduced himself as the governor (nooooo! really?) and I got someone to take a picture of us all with him- so we could amuse the hub staff with our chance meeting.

Soon after, the party started winding down and the gov seemed to be encouraging the white folks to head over to the stage for the concert (our reason for being there) and we took off. When we got over to the stage, it was pretty crowded even though it was only band number two of five warm-up bands that was playing. Mariah and I left Jarod and Noah to listen to the music while we went off to find a going away present for Jarod and Mariah’s host family. There was a local craft fair going on and a plethora of beautiful items to choose from. We both ended up getting very nice marble mortars and pestles (for our future kitchens) for the bargain basement price of 75 pesos, or roughly $1.50. In addition to that, Mariah found a pasalubong for their family.

About this time it seemed like the headliner was about to start and we made our way back through the crowd toward the stage. As we approached where the boys were, the crowd parted and we were amazed at the ease with which we were able to walk right up to the boys. When we got there, Jarod said that someone had just been shot and that he’d seen it. Apparently we didn’t hear the shot, but the crowd had parted in fear and to let the security guards get the injured man and rush him off the field. We were unaware of any of this while we were walking and Noah had run off to use the bathroom, so Jarod was the lone witness in our group. Apparently he not only heard the shot, but also saw the kid with the weapon stuff it in his pants and run away, and saw the kid who’d been hit (stomach area) stumble over and fall down. Talk about excitement, and in just a few moments it was over and everything was back to business. At home, the entire event would have been shut down, the police summoned and people searched. Here, there was a momentary pause, what the hell?

While the last opening band was playing, Noah wandered off to find a better view. The three of us chilled where we were, not being able to see much because the one tall Filipino with big hair in the entire place was standing directly in front of us. Shortly we got a text from Noah saying that there were three empty seats where he was. “Seats, haha!” we thought, but we figured, “what the hell?” and pushed through the crowd to find our fourth. On the way up a good deal of the teenagers there cheered at us; we accidentally bumbled through two kids trying surreptitiously to smoke pot huddled near the ground, surrounded by friends.

Eventually we came to the front and saw that there was a fence separating the standing room from, you guessed it, the seats. We were disappointed and started looking for a way around when the people crowded behind us said to ask the security guards. The guys took one look at us and tried to direct us around to the side entrance. Seeing that this wasn’t really possible, a couple of them helped us climb over the gate and get seats in the VIP section down front with…wait for it…the governor and his group of white wakeboarders. Once again, we were in the one place where we didn’t obviously stick out as the only white faces in the crowd.

After a few minutes, Noah went up to the people in the row in front of us and asked them something. They opened up a large cooler and handed him cans of beer for all of us, even though they didn’t know us (who would ever do that in the states?!?), ice cold drinks! This was a nice addition to the free sodas, beer, fabulous mango shakes and plate of food that we had procured at the previously crashed party. It was such an odd separation, to look back and see a mass of brown faces craning their necks to get a good view, while we sat there and had a cold drink. Had we not been Americans, we wouldn’t have gotten that ride or been able to crash the party, meet the governor or skip straight into the VIP section. At first we felt a little bad about it, but it occurred to us that we often get pretty crummy treatment because we’re white Americans…so we figured, “what the hell? Take it when you can get it, and remember that when you’re being ignored, stared at, shouted at on the street or randomly touched by a stranger who wants to know what white skin or blonde hair feels like.”

The headlining band soon came to the stage and put on a short, but fantastic show. With our seats, we were able to get right up next to the stage and get a clear picture of what wonderful performers these guys are. We were surrounded by the Filipino upper class (including our new friends from the SUV) and American-Australian-European extreme sport athletes. People were well dressed, well kept, waving their picture phones and digital cameras while trying to get the perfect picture (can’t blame them, I was doing it too). It was almost like being transported back home for a brief time.

Very surreal, the all of it- but what the hell? Surreal can be fantastic.
What the hell?