more trends for 2010 -- yellow is the new white

...or yellow is the new black and brown is the new white.
either way, black and white interracial relationships are so 1954

it's time to stir things up.

if you really want to catch some attention in the new year find yourself (assuming your self is a little brownish girl) a giant asian boyfriend. they're the perfect new accessory. even better, they'll gladly hold your purse.

introducing....CAPTAIN KOREA!
AND he shoots laser beams from his eyes. that's why they're so squinty. it's for your protection ya'll.

the truth about christmas

it's in the mail...

in lieu of christmas presents

trends for 2010

semi-retirement

imaginary obligations.
they're the worst
i don't like writing anymore.
so,
i think i'll stop.
phase one complete.
time to find a new hobby.
taxidermy. time travel.
whatever,
it's time to go outside.

it's not a haiku.

one million things

...give or take.

things to do in the philippines

Cebu:
-learn about history
-break your heart
-cry over poverty
-give away mangoes
-make new friends

Bantayan:
-finally eat good food
-steal a motorbike ride
-make new friends
-steal a tricycle
-despise colonial attitudes
-feel rich. feel sad
-learn to ride a motorbike
-motorbike round island
-night swim
-fend off advances of a 17 year old boy
-acquire adoring band of street kids/tricycle drivers
-acquire female entourage
-try to steal adorable kids. opt instead for a game of Frisbee on the beach
-get stung by a jellyfish
-get an infection. name it ricky
-dance with a midget and lady boys in the moonlight
-wander aimlessly in the bush for hours in search of paradise armed with a gun and mini-machete.
- leave paradise.

Manila (the sequel)
- try to take a: tricycle, jeepney, taxi, bus. any freakin' thing to get to international departures! generally fail
- try to take refuge from a typhoon. fail
- drown
- be hungry
- stay hungry
- be wet
- stay wet
- be helped by the locals
- be scammed by the locals
- be locked out of the airport for 5 hours cold, wet and hungry
- wonder what the hell you've gotten yourself into

things to do: in the philippines

Manila and surrounding area:

- sweat
- drown
- take refuge from the rain
- make new friends
- be hungry
- eat meat flavoured fat
- stay hungry
- take a: tricycle, jeepney, taxi and habal habal
- risk your life on a: tricycle, jeepney, taxi and habal habal
- try to go to Mall of Asia-- fail
- leave fake poop around not-Mall of Asia. fool cleaning staff
- be helped by the locals
- be scammed by the locals
- see Tal volcano through the mist and despite the rain
- destroy shoes, feet and therefore nose
- hang with tribesman of the Southern islands
- walk down, up, down and up the rice terraces of Batad
- almost die
- see waterfall. walk back up, down, up - deliver own last rites
- triumph over adversity
- crash a party
- dance with dignitaries
- eat a ducks face
- gag

night swim

Characters: two unassuming tourists played by Toac (purple), Charles (orange); two over eager local boys, Eljay (blue) and Berne (green); and the harbinger of death
Setting: a not so secluded beach. 12 am. Bantayan, Philippines.

(click to enlarge)

short comings

in trying to recount my adventures and observations from south east asia i have sadly come to the realization that i am a horrible fact teller.

i am terrible at telling the truth.

or should i say retelling the truth?

frankly, what actually happened is often times less interesting than what i or others have perceived to have happened.
mind you, while everything i write is based on reality and is often nothing but the truth when Kleo fails to lend me her creative genius i occasionally have to take matters into my own hands.

however, despite this admission of what i think is a comical flaw i will not be called a liar.
consider it poetic retellings of history.
although at times fact is more mind boggling than fiction 1 i prefer to blur the lines.
and the blur the lines i shall continue to do.
consider it artistic license.
reality is after all subjective and therefore so is truth.

in the meanwhile you can have the pleasure of un-blurring and sometimes literally reading between the lines deciphering fact from flights of fancy

i make no apologies.
i'll make no amends.

consider it a disclaimer.
consider it a confession.
whatever it is you must consider it.

and prepare yourself for the masterfully-poetic, horrifying yet heart-warming retellings of the summer of 2009.

those were indeed the best days of my life.



----
1 this is often the case in my own colourful life.

sparrows

june 09 - today outside of some cathedral i foolishly decided to eat a mango. I was surrounded by kids in an instant.

"peso ma'am. peso."

but one child noticed the food i had and the chant quickly changed.

"mango ma'am. mango"

i had five mangoes. i had already started eating one, the rest went to the littlest beggars but even after i ran out of mangoes one girl followed me for a block and a half.

sorry sweetheart i have no more mangoes. my bag is empty.

"mango, ma'am. mango."

i had some sweet pastries but she only wanted a mango.

"mango, ma'am. mango."

i showed her the empty bag.

"mango, ma'am. mango."

her older friend/sister jumped in and offered to trade me a bottle of water for a mango.

i only have the one i'm eating. you want the one i'm eating?
"yes ma'am."

what?!

i still can't believe it.
the hunger.
the desperation.
to ask someone for the half eaten mango hanging out of their mouth. to barter with your only means of income...my heart aches still.

i gave her the mango.

i lost 50 pesos. i lost my breakfast/lunch. but how could i not?
these children...i could've been in their position.
we all could have been in their position.

all i can say is don't take your privileged life for granted and thank God for His blessings daily.
Thank you God for this my life.

2nd impression: poverty.

poverty.

extreme, abject poverty.

continuous, thriving, all consuming poverty.

what is poverty? in manila you see it everywhere.
so many people are homeless, sleeping in the parks, on the sidewalks, in the gutters.
everywhere.

nationwide this poverty is a result of corruption, local dishonesty and foreign greed.
it is a product- a continuous cycle- of poverty, illness, desperation and hunger.

to look at it will break your heart.
so you don't.
don't look out the window.
don't make eye contact.
don't look at the streets.
don't look at the buildings.
don't look at yourself because you will disgust yourself.
sometimes hearts need breaking.

but still you harden it as much as you can while trying to retain your humanity.
you harden it to maintain your sanity.
you give a little here and there. to give to everyone will put you in a tough position financially. they're everywhere, it breaks your heart.
again.

you smile at the kids, the dirty little street urchins, praying that they don't ask you for money cause to them you are rich but today you too are hungry. you can't afford to feed yourself so your belly rumbles with theirs.

Day 1: The adventure begins.

in all honesty i should have spent far more time planning this trip and far less time packing and repacking my bags.

despite our incredible lack of preparation for this trip we were not completely unprepared. we had thought ahead enough to book a hostel however, the directions we had were proving to be difficult to follow.

take a jeepney to Sucat then a tricycle to green mango pension house.. a tricycle?

yes.

once you cross the candy-cane bridge transfer to unicycle then proceed on flying unicorn.

as exciting as this sounded we didn't know A) where to get a jeepney and B) what a jeepney or trike look like.

mission 1: find pension house without being robbed or conned.

a few wrong turns and a few swindles later we finally arrived at our hostel, the beautiful oasis that is the Green Mango.
the living quarters are cramped, not even a foot between the bunks and the bathroom facilities leave something to be desired, but this place is not completely without charm. tropical plants abound and the under-aged staff is completely awestruck by our outstanding beauty and charm1 , hopefully this will result in free things and more free things.

mission 2: find food

luck finally seems to be on our side, our room mates turn out to be two very nice brits with similar travel plans and hunger pains.
shall we adventure together? yes, let's.

after miles of walking in search of food we come to the realization that continuing this way we would either die of starvation or heat exhaustion.
after a brief jaunt on a trike and having succumbed to diesl fumes and hunger pangs we decide to try our luck with some roadside "meat" on a stick.

and by roadside i mean, a shantyesque resto on the side of the road, food in an unrefridgerated glass case, meat of intdeterminal species kept flyless by a man with a feather duster.

bbq pig ear on a stick. delicious.

mission 3: start the sightseeing.

SM mall of asia (the 3rd largest mall in the world) is our goal but sadly we are having terrible difficulty communicating with the British boys. The problem lies in the fact that the british don't speak english. perhaps in my spare time i can teach them...

sadly we end up at another SM, not the one we were looking for but a supermall nonetheless.

sadly we did not realize our err until we had spent 2 hours looking for the main attractins.

not so sadly some colourful wigs and fake poo made for a perfectly entertaining evening.







---

1. at this point we had been going non stop for 28 hours, we were the poster girls for "outstanding beauty".

Day 1: Landing.

Hey Toac, do you realize where you are? the Philippines? yes.

first impressions: dang it's hot.
first thought: what am i doing here?
2nd and 3rd thoughts: seriously, what the hell am i doing here? what have i gotten myself into?

Within the first few minutes of landing i'm about ready to go back to korea.

we have no real plan, no real itinerary. i have a pocketful of pesos and a bag full of money.

i feel like a drug runner not a well seasoned traveller.

it's 'cause i'm not.

how on earth are we going to survive a month and a half of backpacking?

heaven only knows.

last words

i am constantly asked whether teaching english in korea is fun.

well that depends on how you measure fun. if it is solely based on how much my liver has deteriorated since coming here, i've been having excessive amounts of fun. if it's based on how many times i've had to got to the doctor/ clinic/ hospital/ witch docotor i've had far too much fun and if you base it on ...well anything else i've still been having an amazing time.

i've been up and down this country. here and there. round and about. i've made a lot of friends, eaten a lot of questionable things, many delicious things and many delicious questionable things. i've ridden the subway without pants. i've danced without dignity. one night i even found myself in eastern europe. i've laughed, i've cried. i've loved and lost. i've given up and had my hope restored. i have also found love again. i've done things i've always wanted to do, things i've never dreamed off and things i cannot mention in mixed company.

in short, my time spent in korea has been a blessing and a curse but most of all it's been a learning experience.

i can't say i've enjoyed every minute of it but i have grown and it remains to be seen whether i'll fit myself back into my old life. i hope not.

i hope to see you all again soon!

farewell to you all.

thanks for everything!

toac

hood rat

"my life is in the ghetto,
it's where I's born and raised.
how's a simple hood rat s'posed to get out of this maze?"

don't blame it on the ghetto,
that's not what keeps you here.
why you crying hood rat?
dry those self indulgent tears.

you need reminding hood rat,
many years have gone and come.
do you forget your ancestors and the battles that they won?

people died in search of liberty.
you can vote, you're free to learn,
but their memory you've tarnished
your hard earned rights rejected--spurned.

what is it you're afraid of?
that maybe they were right,
are you a worthless waste of matter-
another useless social blight?

"why should i vote? why should i fight?
the man still keeps me down."
does the man not do your homework?
does the man dress you like a clown?

"don't be hatin' on my culture,
don't be hatin' on my clothes."
why should i respect your peoples
when you call your sisters hos?

oh you silly little hood rat
let me assuage your fears
and remind you of the time that's passed,
it's been 200 years

frontin' like a gangster,
acting ignorant and smug.
don't come crying on my shoulder
when they treat you like a thug.

who am i to judge your lifestyle?
how you live is personal,
but when you reject your own potential
all your arguments are null.

so there's a switchblade in your pocket.
so your mom's a hood rat wife.
why fulfill this cursed prophecy?
why be a hood rat all your life?

living in the ghetto doesn't make or break a man.
it's the choices that you make that determines if "you can".

so before you blame the system,
why don't you take a second look
forget the bling, the grills, the rims
and read a f***ing book.

post script

Dear God,

i hate to bother You again so soon but i have a special request- a favour of sorts.
i know Your book has been in circulation for a while now and i realize that recalling them all would be a major inconvenience but You would be doing me a major solid if You could make a little revision.

A kid hit me with a desk today. It wasn't a love tap or a slight nudge, that i could deal with, it was a violent and painful flinging- a drive by desking if you will.

Management generally frowns on corporal punishment but i can handle those repercussions. deportation's not that bad.
You on the other hand...not sure where You stand on this issue.

if i go by the old testament it is within my right to pummel him. however, the new testament says i should grin and bear another desking.
whether turning the other cheek is figurative or literal is unknown but You're pretty clear about loving your delinquent students neighbour and i'm not looking forward to eternal heat rash.

Love is patient, love is kind... yada yada.

herein lies the problem. It would be really helpful if You took the patience bit out of the equation, cause frankly i have no patience left for these devilish children.
besides, according to the dictionary patience is:

pa-tience [pey-shuh-ns]

noun

1. the quality of being patient, as the bearing of provocation, annoyance, misfortune or pain, without complain, loss of temper, irritation, or the like
.
.
6. obsolete

yes, obsolete.
taking that into consideration i think it's totally within reason to rethink this whole patience thing.

it may be a virtue, but patience is highly overrated.
as are children.

knock, knock

Dear God,

how're things? how's the Family?
i got Your message the other day. i appreciate the effort You put into it but wouldn't an email or singing telegram have been easier?
speaking of messages, there are some things i need to talk to You about regarding my future. i wanted to run a couple ideas by You so i stopped by Your house.
You must've just stepped out cause no one answered but then again i didn't actually knock i just stood on your steps singing stupid songs. if i were You i wouldn't have opened the door either.
I tried calling the other day but You must've been busy so i just left a message. I still haven't heard from You... You must get a lot of messages.
i tried talking to the universe about it but she's not responding either...i'll try again later.

toac

ps. i like what You did with the weather today. Great colours You should do more with pastels, maybe a nice landsape painting, think group of seven. think, spring.
keep up the good work.

letters to the editor

03/...

dear universe,

i haven't been sick in a while so just in case you were looking for me i'm still in korea. in case you confused me with someone else i'm not in the bad korea with the Great leader, i'm the short brown girl in the good korea with the alright leader.
no colds, no emotional breakdowns, no plagues of the apocalypse...most people would be happy but i fear you've forgotten about me.
i live across from that ocean hotel.
just ask the lady at the sandwich shop she'll tell you where to go.
if that doesn't work ask Santa, he knows where i am.

03/28

dear universe,

i learned a new word today "ssa oo". it means fight.
i already knew a word "so", that means cow.
so...i went to a bull fight. i feel inspired.
not to fight because many of the bulls forfeited.
so... i think i 'll forfeit. and by forfeit i mean lie down.
like a moody cow.
good night universe.

03/29

dear universe,

i saw a crab today, it was such a strange colour. it's as if the eighties exploded all over it. what's up with that?
i saw a fish-like creature that looked like a fruit...seriously, what's up with that?
i thought about you universe...you're so strange. what's up with you?

the kangaroo communique

"Thirty-six intricate procedural steps, followed one by one in just the right order, led me from the kangaroos to you--that's it. To attempt to explain each and every one of these steps would surely try your powers of comprehension, but more than that, i doubt i can even remember them all.
There were thrity-six of them after all!
If but one of these stages had gotten screwed up, I guess I wouldn't be sending you this letter. Who knows? i might have ended up somewhere in the Antarctic Ocean careening about on the back of a sperm whale. Or maybe I'd have torched the local cigarette stand.
Yet somehow, guided by this seemingly random convergence of thirty-six coincidences, i find myself communicating with you.
Strange, isn't it?"

--Haruki Murakami

...it started with a cup of tea and Ninja Turtles.

ad nauseum

it is not because i am desperate for blog material that i post this. this topic has been, and will continue to be a point of debate between my sisters and I since moving to Canada when we (or at least I) first realized that people, even the people in my immediate family, are different colours and more importantly that it matters to people.

--
And as a halfrican, I'd like to wish you all a Happy Negro-Appreciation Month!"
g.m.

and so it began...again

you are not a halfrican friend. which one of your family members can you trace back to africa? shoot, do you even know the lineage of your great grandfolks? your embrace of a continent that neither fathered, mothered nor grandparented you is appalling.
consider yourself disowned.

your almost dougla-ish sister
toac

~melodramatic since 1984

-
as i said to your two canadian-born sisters: how do you think black people got to the caribbean? they took a boat ride. from where? AF-REE-KAH. so half of my ancestors comes from where? AF-REE-KAH.

give us us free.
--
as a true halfrican, i find your logic weak... though you are darker than me
mamabear
-
I'm not sure that darkness proves anything. For approximately ten days every June I'm darker than the mango, and I'm pretty sure I'm not even a sixteenthrican. Or anything like it.
j.a.

--
j.a. you will be hearing this argument for the rest of our lives and then on into eternity. and i am not arguing that people came from africa. i'm sure people are still coming from africa. but you're family didn't come from africa, especially half of it. all you know is some dark skinned people met some light skinned people and made babies.
toac
-
If it helps you sleep at night,I can call myself a Halfro-Indo-Caribbean. But I don't really know why you are arguing that black people didn't come to the Caribbean via Africa. Because that's where all the original black people came from . And I know that since the year 1619 you didn't have to be from Africa to be black thanks to a little thing called the Transatlantic Slave Trade.

So I'm not fronting that I am from Africa. But half of my traceable peeps came off of some slave ship or another.

And just to be clear,the other half took the same ships across the Atlantic from India as indentured servants. Too bad there is no Indian History Month so I can have an excuse to blog about Imperialism at length.

Post-colonially yours,

gm
g.mango

-
How come you are not bragging on the Dutch blood?
mamabear

--
The Dutch peeps are Dutch by culture and also came to the other side by slave ship, too.
g.mango

--
to rehash the discussion we had yesterday for those interested, and so as not to seem like i am accepting g.m's lame-ass argument:

caribbean blacks are descendant of Africans. not arguing that, that's like denying the holocaust- simple fact.
my argument is purely mathematical. your ancestors are so mixed- even your "black" self professed "ni**a" grandmother is not all black so MATHEMATICALLY speaking if you add it all up you are sadly not half black and definitely not half african. frankly g.m. you're more indian than anything else deary. but labels are pointless and race is as inconsistent and socially constructed as any other so call yourself what you want. i will call myself "s-----".

btw, ever notice that your moniker can also be interpreted as "genetically modified"? yeah. it's true.
- toac

my sisters and i find ourselves in an interesting position wherein we are a race unto ourselves. not that it is impossible to recreate our particular racial combination nor is it impossible that there are other people with our exact melange but as it now stands we are the only ones of our "kind".
finding ourselves in this interesting non-category or within the statistical category of "other" I always find myself asking the same question, "why align yourself with a group of people with whom you share no real connection with other than something so meaningless that it changes depending on nothing more than exposure to the sun?". seriously. why?

put a black-american or caribbean black in africa and you'll find they have far less in common with their "brothers" than the white/brown/yellow kid in the house next to them.
race and culture are both socially constructed, it's true but, culture is more than skin deep. culture can grow, expand and make room for others and other ideas. culture reflects the vastness and creativity of the human mind. "race", on the other hand is a result of narrow mindedness proliferated by the need to subjugate and remain subjugated.

but these are the musings of a short, brownish, guyanese-canadian double expat living in heterogenous korea, what do i know of race and culture?

holla!