Sometimes it feels like I traveled through 3 flights, over 22 hours in the air, in the course of over 40 hours just to hug my mom and dad. As soon I got off the last plane on the way to Cabadbaran, my mother’s hometown, I knew I couldn’t do this trip often, especially if it wasn’t going to be first class. I arrived sick, stiff, smelly, and fatter it seems. I was in a car with my father driving from Butuan to Cabad. It was nice. Being in the car with my father driving was the meat of my childhood. As temperamental as he is ( he seems to be even more easily aggravated on the road these days), my faith in feeling safety under his care has not faltered. I missed it.
As soon as I arrived in Las Pilipinas there was a smell. The smell wasn’t the only thing that aggressively hit me. There something called “Pasalubong” which I understand to be a tradition and form of respect that involved bringing small gifts be it makeup, money, food, clothes, anything- for people in your family- and I mean WHOLE FAMILY, including extended, and that rare person who came to visit who met you once when you were little and have no recollection of ever knowing them. I had NO IDEA this was a thing. I felt embarrassed and so unprepared. I was angry that my parents didn’t tell me about this, being that this one of my first times visiting them in the Philippines since they’ve moved from the states, alone, as an adult. I was responsible for being a considerate human being and respecting the culture and my family but I wasn’t prepped.
There was a conversation after a party with my cousin Apple. What’s crazy was that after the party there an epic black out amongst the entire city. It was kind of terrifying, but also somewhat exciting. My mom really went into survival mode and lit candles and pulled out the lanterns, it felt like if anything were to happen, I was in the right place. Anyway, my cousin Apple who is the oldest of my generation of the Alaan “clan”, has always been like an older sister to myself and my other sister Ate Mavis. She lived with my family and I in Miami for a bit in the 90s when she came from The Philippines and after all these years she’s been somewhat like a bridge between me and my parents because she spoke the language of both worlds, and was acclimated with both cultures. Believe it or not, there are still barriers that make me feel so far away from my parents culturally, and the older I get the more I am realizing what they are. We were on the couch in the sala after everyone was asleep and all of a sudden she drew me into this very deep, intense conversation. She basically gave me a harsh reality check and reminded me that EVERYONE is getting older. Suddenly I was releasing a flood of emotions and tears to clean off all the sweat and dirt off my face. “Do you have money to fly back to the Philippines on a moment’s notice if anything happens?” “ Do you have money for a funeral?” “What’s going to happen to this house and who is going to take care of it years from now (when your parents are no longer here?)” “Do you know if your parents want to be cremated or buried?” . I sat there and just cried listened. Relieved and anxious. Sad and ready.
On top of that, my other cousin who identifies as a Christian Libertarian, yet actually one of the most intelligent people I know came from Miami, and we had a very long heart to heart another night. Now, I’m not going to share too much private information about my family, but he is in a very specific situation when it comes to his romantic relationship. It’s a very common thing in The Philippines to approach relationships in this way, but I do not wish to pursue partnership as such. I bring this up because our heart to heart included the state of the country, the world, an escape plan, a plan of action, civil war, nuclear war, the idea that if we donnot have children we have no legacy to carry on, my argument that at this point my offering to the world would be those that come from my creative endeavors, and why all these things leads to who we choose as a partner in life. In fact, I found myself having to defend not only my weight and size 6, but also my lifestyle which in my eyes seems to be something to proud of.
I’m a young, independent woman living in New York City that works extremely hard to survive on my own while pursuing a career as a multi-disciplinary creative artist and performer.
I am pursuing to have romantic relationships that reflect partnership, respect, and love. GOD FORBID I WAIT TO MARRY FOR LOVE AND REALLY BELIEVE I CAN TAKE CARE OF MYSELF.
How dare others make me feel like I’m not living correctly? Mind you- If I put my two cents in about how I feel the way others’ lead their lives being problematic, I’m being aggressive or insensitive. Anyway…Being in the Philippines with all its beauty, reality checks, and deep conversations made me think about my lifestyle and the life I was leading. I’m tired ya’ll. I am trying to master a lucrative career as a creative while also trying to be prepared for WHATEVER including an apocalypse, or end of civilization. I’m not jaded, which is why I’m exhausted. Are the relationships in NYC something I can talk to my family about in the Philippines? If shit goes down, who are my people? Were my daily choices and actions stepping stones to what I really wanted for myself and supporting who I wanted to be for my family and myself?I want to have a partner who I can face all the challenges of my life with, I want a partner who will be with me in any kind of war, not one who I feel is at war with me. I had to wake up about so many things and to so many truths out there. Maybe I wasn’t living like I actually wanted what I wanted.
While we were in the mesmerizing Surigao my Christian Libertarian cousin said to me, “People have lost the concept of Value”. That really stuck with me. I’ve realized I’m not living in a way that supports what I value. At all. In fact- suddenly my life looked like I was just chasing breadcrumbs in all aspects- relationshipwise, careerwise, financially.
It’s alot.
It was my intention to spend as much quality time with parents and family because when you fear that you may count the times you have left to see your parents on your hands, you see the value in the time you have with them. I’ve witnessed breathtaking views, but some of the most precious memories of this trip was the stuff unworthy of your average basic instagram traveler- learning to make a mango desert with my mom and Auntie Listine, taking a nap with my parents in Cebu, hearing my father deliver his speech as President of the Rotary Club, and my mother and cousins helping me tape an audition to send to L.A..
As I finish this essay about a month later since I’ve come back from Las Pilipinas I’m realizing how tiresome it is to explain how my “Vacation” was, which is why I choose not to when asked. I can’t casually talk about my “vacation”, because it wasn’t a vacation really, it was the death of so many ways of thinking, being, and existing. Death of how I walked an unsure woman in love and life. Talking about the death of family members, specifically parents, where you realize the evolution of the roles we play in family means you’re ready to usher in the change you need to become an adult. I wasn’t just a cousin, a daughter, a grand daughter, a sister, an apo, or Ate, anymore, I was given more responsibility, and I’m okay with that, because that’s who I want to be.
Suddenly I’m ready for the fantasy of the life I want for myself with the partner, family, and desirable career. Suddenly talking about death and change means finally living life truthfully, and I’m ready to live my life in NYC in such a way that will help me bring all the Pasalubong to my family back home soon.
