“Go back to your country.”
At least once a day, some random male voice called out a smart aleck comment or slur to either me or my wife. There were times I knew something wicked had been spoken, but since it was said in Cebuano, I didn’t know just what. The controlled look on wifey’s face said a lot…
impressions of an American
in the Philippines
You never knew who was muttering unplesantries, because so many people were milling around. Everyone looking someone else up and down.
This area near Toledo was considered a small town. If so, the people were always out and about, always in the same places. Working, shopping, eating and drinking, in short. A few were clearly on drugs of some kind. I recognized a lot of ‘types’ that I came across back home.
There were just as many friendly people, or at least nonplussed and curious. Lots of blank stares.
After a few weeks, some of the trike drivers and store workers started to recognize me, which wasn’t saying much. Drivers looking for a fare would impede traffic, u-turning to get near and negotiate with me. Usually we preferred to walk.
A couple of smaller SM Malls were in the Toledo area. The door guard presence might have been all for appearance. Hard to tell. Maybe that was the point.
Here’s How To Guarantee You Get The Cheapest Flight Available, EVERY Time…
Young women, sometimes girls, were always standing around in the mall department stores. They were all under twenty-five years old, fair skinned, long hair in a bun, short skirt and opaque stockings with black heels, sometimes open-toe. Employed to watch customers poke around. The limited assistance was not worth the intrusion. Or maybe I was missing the point.
Mang Inasal was instantly recognizable as a typical fast food joint. They had some kind of ‘unlimited rice!’ special. A kid holding an insulated bin full of rice would wander around the place, watching everyone munch. If he thought you were getting low, a scoop would appear…
Coconut Concoction Negro! Negro! Unlimited Kids Cebu City, PI
There was a McDonald’s near the hotel. Just for familiarity’s sake, I wanted to eat there every few days. I was amused to learn that the Filipino version of Mickey D’s had rice with gravy, and pieces of chicken, along with the quarter pounders and famous fries. BFF!
Mickey D’s in Toledo liked to send out an employee with pen and pad, moving down the queue to take orders. Then you got to the register and sometimes he 
hadn’t made it back, and so you gave the order again—a sure way to mix orders up or just be plain wrong. Maybe because of me. This was all so puzzling that my mind short circuited at the inefficiency. At least the guy with the order blanks had a paycheck coming.
A very ragged-looking kid, maybe twelve, saw us eating in there through the window. Guards at most of the restaurants and stores and banks kept obvious noncustomers like him out, I had noticed. There was no browsing when you were wearing dirty clothes and shoeless. He immediately targeted me and stood there on the sidewalk, with a pitiful look on his face. Every time I turned my head in his direction, the lower lip pushed out further and his head cocked.
I put my apple pie in my pocket. When the homeless boy saw me stand up, he tracked me to the door. I laid the pie box in his hand outside. The corner of his mouth turned up and he ran off…
AS-TOLD-TO [Merriam-Webster]: created by a process in which a person’s spoken remarks are recorded (as during a series of interviews) and then edited and revised for publication by a professional writer
This is a fictionalized account of real people, squashed together into a single POV.
The people begging in PI seemed worse off than those in America. Even the bums had fairly nice clothes and seemed well-fed, back in the States.
In the Philippines, I saw a few men stretched out on sidewalks and roadsides who couldn’t even walk.
A man sat near while we ate in a Jollibee, making it a point to face me. His black t-shirt had a slogan I couldn’t translate. Outside, I asked what it meant: Mo inum ko og dugo—I drink blood.
by Chris DeBrie
We repeatedly ate a roadside restaurant treat called siomai, a morsel of pork or chicken, usually wrapped in wanton sheets and then fried or steamed. Very tasty, especially in the broth that this one vendor put into the bag. It crossed my mind that I really had no idea what the meat was—but then, I didn’t really know in the States, either.
I was used to drinking lots of water while eating. Especially while eating rice. That wasn’t the norm here. Found myself rationing water during meals to push the food down. I had never even thought about such things before. At the hotel, I guzzled soda and bottled water to make up for it.
DeBrie interview with V.M. Simandan
Related: Cebuano-English lesson #1
Dogs didn’t bother me during the trip. But I was on yellow alert whenever I saw strays trotting by. These strays seemed to have a kind of radar which caused them to avoid random people who might hurt them. They would do a quick self-check, seeing if maybe you had something edible. Then they’d keep moving and sniffing. I rediscovered the meaning of the word, ‘mange.’
Roosters never stopped going off here. If you believed the cartoons and had never been out of the city, you might believe that the only time they crowed was at sunrise. I had already learned that wasn’t true. In the Philippines the crowing was near constant, all day long, depending where you were. So many roosters. But after a while you forgot they were there. And finally, you got to liking the sounds… or, at least, appreciating them.