the beauty of where I was and the beauty of where I am now...

Coming back to Canada was a shock in many ways, both good and bad.
At first I was going to tell you about all the things I hated and all the things I miss about the Philippines, but I can't. The worlds are so different that there is just no comparison. There are too many things here that I equally love over there. There are many things that frustrate me here, that frustrate me over there. There are things that I can accomplish here that I can over there. There is no difference.

But why are we so consumed with the idea of consuming here in Canada and the western world in general? Why are we so comfortable with the idea of making money, getting that paycheck and then going home to watch Glee or drink ourselves stupid at the bar? Why is it that material objects are so appealing to us?  And then we spread it like a disease to parts of the world that don't even know what a map looks like. It makes me a bit uncomfortable to hear how much people buy whether for themselves or for their loved ones. As if buying it is the only way to show they love themselves or each other. I don't deny I buy things too. I can get caught up in the stream. My line of thinking goes a little like this: I'd like that camera so I can shoot videos with people. It's a really nice camera. I'd like that camera to take pictures of people and scenery so then I can blow it up big and put it on my wall.. or paint it. I'd like that printer so that I can print those pictures myself at any time I want without leaving the house. I'd like that apartment so that I can set up my studio so that I can take pictures, make video and print things whenever I want and not have to leave the house.

I'd like...

I realize money isn't everything, but it is a tool to achieve what I want. I like to be creative and unfortunately in this world it requires money to be creative. Unfortunately in this world what they market to me to be creative... wins. But it's not so bad when you understand it. You aren't in control. The media is. The T.V. is. The internet is. You are told what to buy, sell, eat, wear.. etc.
I understand all of this from taking small business and learning about advertising and marketing.

Well, the funny thing is.. I need all of that too. The simple truth, "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em."
So I am. I am in search of the perfect place and the perfect team that will allow me to create in all forms of art that I do now and yet, make a lot of money to achieve what I want.

It's like... taking my talent into the world of really rich people and taking the money that comes from them... and giving it to the poor. I have decided I am going to be a subtle, modern day Robin Hood.

The beauty of where I was showed me what I want to do. The beauty of where I am now showed me what I can do.

One step at a time.

A note from Chuck

So I came across this one day from another blog and I absolutely love it because it's so true. I have met the person that defines my definition of love... though it took me years to realize.

Pinoy Bailey's Recipe

Ok, so I don't know where I'm ever going to get Tanduay when I go back to Canada, but I'm frantically collecting memories for when I do go back. Here is a recipe for an amazing home-made Bailey's using the finest alcohols in the Philippines, the good 'ol Tanduay. Trust me, it's so delicious you won't remember a thing!

PINOY BAILEY'S

1 Bottle of Tanduay (250ml)
1 Bottle of water (500ml)
1 can condensed milk (168ml)
2 sachets of instant coffee (2 grams)

Add ice cubes, stir and ENJOY!

*Please mix to your own accord. Some people like it stronger and some people like it creamier. The best part about making this is the experimenting!

Messages in a bottle

When I was in Moalboal, I came across this little store tucked away on the side of the road. I probably would have missed it had I not noticed the trees lined with glass bottles. When I came closer I noticed every bottle had a message in it. I thought, wow, were these messages that had floated all the way across the ocean that people have just tied to these trees in Moalboal? No, they were put there by this lovely woman named Naomi. Her store was called Naomi's Bottle Museum, which was full of knick knacks, used books, these tiny hand-weaved, colourful baskets she called happiness baskets and these bottled messages which she would write out and place them inside. This little woman was so amazing and full of love. She brought out a giant bottle with a bunch of messages in them, shook it up and told us each to pick one.

Kyle's read:

You are continually changing as day passes. Your progress as a whole-being is a record of changes that bring you closer to the truth your spirit recognizes. Do not fear CHANGE. Trust that it brings the WISDOM you need. All is well...

 Mine read:

Persist and win! Try and try, and try again without fear - making your courageous spirit so inspiring. Your principle in life makes your days of your existence so worthwhile, so wonderful, so great. Yes... you are indeed great. All is well...

How beautiful. Sometimes Life brings you exactly what you need, exactly when you need it.

Noami's Bottle Museum
Pamagbama Beach, Moalboal, Cebu
Philippines 6032

a mighty heart of garbage

So this morning we went to the Mandaue Landfill for the third time since we've been in the Philippines. Ify came with us for the first time. We got picked up happily by Tata and his son Philip and nephew JB who decided to come along. All of us made our way to the landfill with our packages eager to make another appearance with gifts. Little did we know just what we had in store.



You know when you arrive at the landfill because you can't miss it by the smell. It is enough to have your head spinning, but this time around was shocking. I've never seen it so... full of garbage. I know, it sounds ridiculous, but as my friend put it, judging by our previous pictures the landfill appeared to be livable and decently civilized. This time the paths were covered, mounds of garbage surrounded us on all sides and the houses we were trying to visit were not visible at all. Tata climbed on top of his jeepney to see if the houses were on the other side still.. sure enough they were. The kids working at the landfill were eager to be our guides. So we followed them pile over pile, our shoes getting covered with tar and muck and off we went in search of the usual families. But alas, they were nowhere to be found. Some were either off working or gone to church. Well, that's nice.

We did manage to find a few families, so after we loaded up the children with presents we handed out the remaining home by home. I felt sad that we didn't have more. I stood next to one of the women as her newest born baby pooped and peed in her arms. I watched as the flies immediately swarmed her. Why didn't I bring more towels or diapers or something for the babies? There are so many kids here and my clothing wouldn't fit them... yet at least. I watched as a few kids ran around naked by the garbage. I thought, why do they live here? What would it be like to grow up in a landfill? How do they get treated? A few mothers try to send their kids to school with their fathers collecting garbage, but how much do they have to collect? How do they feed themselves? My heart grew heavy knowing just how much garbage we create, how much food we consume and how much we take for granted everyday. I don't hear a word of complaint from them and I hear endless bitching, moaning and groaning from people who have everything. What a strange world.

We waved good-bye to the mother and the children as we boarded our jeepney and left the landfill. It's an experience I told myself, but it's a heart-breaking one. They choose to live this way, I thought to myself, but it's crazy. I can barely stand an hour in the landfill and there are people who live every single day that way. It's insane. I know there are squatters everywhere and some have chosen much more nicer places to live. Don't they realize how bad it is for their health? What about the kids? How do they shower? We got them toothbrushes with no soap or water. Sigh. Does it even make a difference what we do? I wish I could have done more. I wish I could have given more. But when you see their faces, it is their way. They don't know any other way, and in their hearts they don't believe there is another way for them. It is their home. It is their work. It is their life. And I am no one to judge them or change their opinion.