Category: Traveled Places

Yes, Andy Pascual, I have experienced the Filipino full body massage at The Spa and I will never go back. For P1200 I went to the sauna, pool, Jacuzzi and received an hour and 15 minutes of magic.  The room was dimly lit by wall sconces and candles while the smell of mint and lemon wafted through the air. I had hot oils massaged into my back, arms, legs and stomach while I drifted in and out of consciousness. My new Filipino friend, Nads, and I were fully relaxed and disoriented by the time we emerged into the bustling Marikina City traffic and light drizzle. I wanted to fully prepare my body for a month long vacation from the city I’ve started to call home.

In 9 hours, I will be boarding a plane bound for Davao- a city located in Mindanao about two hours south of Manila. It’s time for the some travel. The itinerary:

1. Samal Island– Coral Reef Reconstruction

2. Boljoon, Cebu- Meet the famous Stu and become a certified SCUBA diver

3. Bohol– Find some tarsiers, chocolate hills, and fun in the sun.

4. Bantayan Island– Research for Atty. Oposa’s upcoming book, research for my thesis, work in the School of the SEAs

So as of now I will not return to the Philippine capital for an entire month. Fortunately by the power invested in Wi-Fi, I will continue to upload pictures and post blogs. I have waited four weeks to see a Filipino beach, white sand beaches, and crystal blue water. I want a healthy cancer-free tan, a dive certification and a greater appreciation for a country I’ve grown to love.

Fellow readers, if you have a chance,go to the Philippines for a massage and spa treatment. Cheap and incredible. What’s so wrong with being a diva anyway?

“Little America,” Heaven said as we sped through the streets, the driver effortlessly navigating the large black van through heavy Manila traffic. I passed  large condominiums, 7-11’s, and good ol’ McDonald’s on my way from the airport back to my new home. In many ways the Philippines appears to look like the country which occupied its soil following Spanish rule. Major brands for clothing and shoes are the same as in America and the newest generation of Filipino children speak English as their first language.

But there seems to be many ways in which this island nation is also quite different.. On my first day, a sudden downpour erupted from the skies and the rain came in torrents, beating against the metal roof. I was amazed with the sudden weather shift and ran outside. The children continued to play inside, largely unfazed by the wind and the noise. Heaven’s wife, Eileen, and I went downtown to Marikina City in the afternoon and on our way downtown we past the slums, colorful windows glued next to one another in makeshift apartments. Children played in the recently created puddles and splashed the cars driving along the road. They jeered at each other and ran together as a mass of colorful shorts and brown bodies. “When there are many days of heavy rain, the water escapes the river and floods the slums,” Eileen said and told me of 5 days of heavy rain that occurred two years ago in Manila. It seems that those in poverty suffer the most in more ways than one. The gap in wealth was there, right beyond my window and I wondered how long it would take for the shock of witnessing such poverty to become an accepted occurrence.

I spent the rest of my day at the gym, Fitness First, working out with Eileen and her personal trainer Alvin. As the fit 21-year-old I imagined myself to be, I have never sweat so much in my life. I was overweight by 15 pounds and had too much body fat, according to the scale in the training room. My host mom bounded up and down effortlessly as I trudged through the exercises, panting and wiping my face in-between squats, arm exercises and stomach curls. Alvin and I joked about my weak arm strength and I created my new Filipino name, Katrina Torres. Thankful I did not throw-up or otherwise pass out in front of other jogging stretching Filipinos, we took a shower and Eileen signed me up for a 1 month pass to Fitness First. We ate a delicious dinner at a Greek restaurant and when we returned home, I went upstairs for a quick nap at 8pm…and woke up 4 hours later dazed and confused. I had brushed off jet-lagged and it returned with a vengeance. Bed time, part two.

For the very first time in my life, I spent Thanksgiving somewhere other than the good ol’ US of A. On Thursday afternoon, I grabbed a sandwich at the Copenhagen Lufthavn and hopped on a plane to London. I was delayed due to de-icing problems and arrived in Stansted an hour later than expected but was fortunately still able to use my bus ticket. I jumped on the small orange EasyBus and fell asleep. A muffled noise in my pocket woke me up. I looked down at my phone to see my home phone number flashing on the screen.

“Hiii Mom. Happy Thanksgiving!!!!”

I highly doubt the sleepy, foreign travelers appreciated the energetic American screaming to her parents at the front of the minibus as equally loud Americans screamed back from a speakerphone located in Catskill, New York. I was so surprised to hear from the “fam squad” back home. I could taste Grandpa’s pumpkin pie and hear the sounds of clinking glasses. It was a great start to my trip.

I stayed with my friend Joanna for both of the nights I was in London. On Friday, a number of other Bucknellians from London, Scotland, and France arrived and by 7pm we had a full table of college friends and delicious food. Joanna’s mom had outdone herself with turkey, sweet potatoes, stuffing, mashed potatoes, imported American cranberry sauce, creamed onions and green beans followed by a pumpkin and apple pie. We talked about the possibilities of the next semester and compared notes about our individual European experiences. I was surrounded by great food and even better company.

I did find myself missing Copenhagen and seeing the softly falling snow when I landed was a beautiful sight. I closed my passport and realized that the next time I would be on a plane, there would be no telling when I would return to a country that, in the last three months, had become my home. With only 21 days left, I have gained a renewed sense of determination to get my fill of everything Denmark has to offer.

I want to spend as much time as possible with the incredible people I have met. I want to hold basic conversations entirely in Danish and finish a number of books by Danish authors. I want to drink glögg and eat aebleskiver, wrapped in a thick wool blanket. I DO NOT want to write 3 research papers, and take a Nordic Mythology final but life isn’t perfect.

Even still, sometimes life can get pretty close.