Bon Jovi in the morning

In my commute to work, it seems anything goes in terms of transportation. I would be surprised if Filipinos walk at all, when they can hop on the back of jeeps, trucks, or hang off the side of motor tricycles. I’ve experienced riding the bus now from Carcar to Talisay which is perhaps “too comfy” since I fell asleep and luckily woke up one municipal before arriving in Talisay. This morning, I got tired of waiting for the bus and hopped on a multi-cab. In Manila, jeepneys are old converted military trucks that have painted loud and bright colors, some displaying Jesus Christ logos along the side. They are all somewhat labeled so you know the route and particularly landmarks where they are headed. But, you can flag them down just like a taxi, as you can do the same for buses. In Cebu, multi-cabs seems to be more prevalent. They are smaller versions of jeepneys with low roofs and bench type seating so you can wiggle and snuggle up close to your fellow passenger. It’s rubbing shoulders with the locals. The one I hopped on this morning, I regretted the moment I ducked my head in to grab a seat. Blasting Bon Jovi and Metallica for most of the way, at 7 in the morning, it was an unusual wake up call. I asked the woman sitting next to me what the fare was, and she answered 6 pesos. 6 pesos! For a 40 minute drive to Carcar? I was soon mistaken when dropped off in Carcar and asked for 25 pesos. When handing the driver 20 pesos, explaining that I had already given him 6 pesos, he handed me 6 pesos back. It was a befuddled exchange.

For most of the ride there, I second guessed my choice of multi-cab, since the music was unbearable loud, and I soon realized that no amount of peso was worth going deaf. I started to wonder, was the driver a complete moron? Could he not hear the static the fibers of the speakers breaking ever so slightly with every booming bass beat of drums? I resorted to saving my hearing by putting my head in my head, using my fingers to plug my ears. I contemplated putting on my iPod, but thought better of it, since Amy Winehouse and Chillout Lounge would not outplay the powerful vocals of Jovi. At that moment, I am confident the driver peering through the rear-view mirror saw my display of discontent and discomfort and proceeded to lower the volume just a hair. I gave up resisting the tunes of the morning ride and even had a moment when I quite enjoyed the music-themed joy ride, ducking my head, to look out the ever-so low windows to see where we were and where we were going. For the price, my hearing is far more valuable, and I think next time I’ll choose the comfier option, or another multi-cab with a better soundtrack.

One observation: I have not yet seen a single woman driving a motorbike here in Cebu. If she needs to get somewhere, the man will drive her. Hence, why the men often joke, "he is just a girl" when they are giving a ride to a male friend. I am not sure what about a put-put motorbike scooter makes you more of a man. Although, I am not one to comment too much, as I have not yet driven one myself. Given the dangers and anarchy of the roads here, I prefer to ride and quite enjoy the scenery as opposed to the passing and oncoming traffic.

Death by halo halo!

I cannot believe I had been deprived of this wonderful frozen delight for so long during my stay in the Philippines. But, when Toefilo and Alan took me to lunch one day, they went ahead and ordered me a “special” halo-halo. Twice the size of the ones they ordered, and after watching the table next to us scarf down the purple, sloppy mixture, I had already decided I would hate this dessert. To my surprise and delight, with my first spoonful, I fell in love and immediately felt like a kid again with a wonderful concoction of mixing flavors, colors, and textures, in an oversized bowl. To help explain this Filipino concoction, halo halo literally means “to mix.” It comes in a clear or translucent bowl so that you can not only taste but see the wonderful layers. It consists of, here goes: cubed jelly fruit preserves; fresh fruits, bananas, pineapple, jackfruit; mini-sized bright green jelly balls known as gulaman (similar to those tapioca balls they put in Japanese shakes); strips of fresh young coconut (which I mistook for noodles the first time I ate it!); mixture of nuts; frozen crushed ice mixed with fresh milk and sweet cream, all topped with a scoop of bright purple ube ice cream, and a few sweet cornflakes for decoration (as if it needs it). Ube (pronounced UBEE in Cebuano) is a type of yam that is famous in Cebu and particularly in the island of Bohol. It is naturally a Starlight-Bright lavender color.



Needless to say, I made the mistake of telling Toefilo how much I enjoyed the halo halo, expressing it mainly due to surprise of how well it suited my taste buds. The hot weather lets it melt slowly, making it easier to probe with your spoon to mix all the layers, getting to the “good stuff” at the bottom. By the time you are finished -- if you manage to finish it -- it is a purple soupy mixture with chunks of jelly and fruits and noodle-like pieces of coconut which people slurp up with enjoyment. Needless to say, I have now had it 3 times in the past week! Toefilo offers it to me everyday with a curious, “Have you had halo halo yet today?” The key word being "yet." And the one time I turned down his offer, he say “Why?” with astonishment and confusion. I don’t think I should make it a daily meal, although to be honest, I think that I probably could. I’ve heard in Manila that it often contains corn and/or red beans which make me shutter and have nightmarish flashbacks of the terrors of red bean paste, red-bean ice cream, and red-bean filled buns from my days in Korea. But, since halo halo is even a mystery to me, if next time I have it, I will be surprised once again, I am sure to slurp it up with ecstasy and love, feeling like a little kid who gets to eat birthday cake everyday!

Few thoughts on Filipino food and a few moments spent in the carinderia

While working at the Carcar kiosk, my lunches are usually taken with the staff at carinderias. Side-shops equipped with plastic tables and chairs, all of the food is already cooked and prepared, sitting and waiting in covered pots, or on plates in a glass display case. The women behind the counter most often has a wooden stick with several strands of loose plastic straw tied to the end, which she waves around to swap the flies away. Customers come in and proceed to either lift every lid of every pot to peer inside, or peer through the glass case, to see what’s on the menu for the day. Orders are taken by pointing. If you or someone else grabs the last plate of fried egg, I am afraid you are fresh out of luck. Since the food is already cooked, the food is obviously lukewarm, but enjoyed with a plate of rice in this heat, sustanance, no matter what temperature, is what really counts. Since it has proven quite difficult for me to eat anything present at most Filipino meals, I have abandoned my pure vegetarianism -- although, according to Bengalis, I was never "strict" vegetarian due to the fact that I still chose to eat eggs. Here, I am resorted to eating all of the fresh and delicious fish and seafoods to be had.

Bangus (or, milkfish) is the national specialty – locally, found in abundance in Pangasinan – and usually comes whole, split open, so the fish is lying flat, fried and/or sizzling on a hot plate. It is particularly tasty, and besides shrimps and prawns, it has been my favorite fish dish I’ve had here.

Besides fish, I have often enjoyed pinkabet, a mixture of pumpkin, squash, okra, green beans, onions, and a small helping of tiny, fluorescent pink shrimps, almost too small to discern. The spices seem a mixture of oil and the juices from the vegetables cooking, with garlic and perhaps other spices. Lyndon and I will perhaps attempt to cook it at home this week.

Usually, ordering chopsuey and/or “mixed vegetables” although healthy has remained pretty bland for my tastes after living in the land of kimchi and the house of curries and channa masala. And too often, mixed vegetables implies mixed with meat and seafoods, of course! But, I am not picky and when treated to a meal or invited to a home, I will make do and fill my plate so as not to be rude.

Other healthier varieties are two different kinds of seaweeds – lato and guso. Guso is bright green and rubbery, as they use to make the rubber soles for sandals and shoes. Mixed with lots of vinegar, chopped green and red onions, ginger, and chilies, it is tough to chew. Lato is a darker green and looks much like a tree with mini mistletoe berries. It is sweet, probably also due to a dousing of vinegar, but is less chewy than guso and thinner and more stringy, although still looking like something you would find in your backyard.

Another personal favorite is sinagong, a clear-broth soup usually with either fish or prawns, some green beans and tomatoes, but tastes much like a Filipino-version of Thai tom yum with a strong flavor of lemongrass and ginger.

Despite my perhaps horrid descriptions of Filipino food, I have really enjoyed everything that I have tried. Since moving down to Cebu, I’ve had a chance more often than not to eat home-cooked Filipino meals and more authentic foods, than my choices in Manila – when, now that I think about it, I rarely ate Filipino food, and instead indulging in the variety of kinds foods available (Mexican, Middle Eastern, Indian, Japanese, Korean, Italian). I'll soon grow tired of rice, but the endless new dishes that I try will cease to amaze and surprise me.

And still, the carinderia, although not my favorite place is my regular spot for lunch. Invested with flys, a meal can't be quite fully enjoyed for moments of dropping my fork and spoon to swat away the meancing flys from landing on my food. It's a constant effort and you must not let your guard down. But, the carinderia I frequent does so far have the best halo halo (more on that later), which I watch with wide eyes as they crank the ice from an antique steel contraption.
Ahhh, this is how and where I eat.

Cebu: A different island, a different story

I have to say that making the transition from the hectic, but quite comfortable life I led in big, chaotic Manila, to small, quaint, and almost-rural Talisay of Cebu has proven less difficult than expected. Although I am not sure what I expected from the move of north to south, but have been told that the people in Cebu are “different” from Manila. As big-city livin’ differs from country side bumpkin’. Cebuanos speak a different dialect (Visaya/Cebuano) and they look different – classifying themselves into three different types (particularly when referring to attractiveness levels of young women): chinita, mestiza/o, and morena/o. They seem happier down here, as if that was possible for Filipinos – since Lonely Planet declares them some of the happiest people in the world. To prove this, of all their some 70 languages and dialects, there are no words for depression, anxiety, anguish, or even boredom (at least as a little translation). And it is easy to tell that although the Filipinos themselves do not think particularly highly of themselves, or that they are in any way superior, they do recognize their innate hospitality, and often can laugh in the face of anything! Constantly “just having fun” or “just joking,” they often find ways to not only see the silver lining, but also be able to laugh in the face of hardship or problems that come their way.

Genevieve (Gen), a 28-year old Fil-Am (yup, you guess it full Filipina, born and raised in America), my co-worker and Project Coordinator for IPA, has gone beyond her job to not only assist in the move, from arranging a driver to pick me up at the airport and to offering me the spare room without charging rent! From the moment I arrived, she introduced me to the Green Bank crew, and I quickly began to feel like one of the family. My housemates include Gen and two other Filipino young men and Green Bank employees, Lyndon (“Don-don”) and Keith. Lyndon is 21 years old, and while young, is quite mature in his mind and thinking patterns, which allows me to bond with him quickly as he is comfortable to talk to, and warms me with his smile every time I see him. Keith is our master chef of the house, talks to his aquarium of fish, and is 27 years old and the wiser and more experienced of the Green Bank staff, having worked there for 5 years or so. And Gen is mayora. Not sure what that makes me, but I have been referred to as “cousin.” Gen despises the title while others have claimed it to mean the “lady of the house,” she believes in particular, it refers to the woman who doesn’t do anything. The title fits accurately when Lyndon and Keith are slaving in the kitchen every night to cook us dinner, while we, the women of the house, lounge around. Although, I do offer to wash dishes. But, like I said, our patterns and easy-going lifestyle have already begun to fit to feel much like a family.

One thing I do miss is the rain. Talisay is exorbitantly HOT, so much so that it’s almost unbearable to go out during the day, if need not to. Unfortunately, since I ended up with the spare room, it is unequipped with air con. However, a fan does fine in the evenings and keeps the mosquitoes off of me, which also seem to be a much bigger problem for me down here than in Manila; however, in the mornings, my room feels much like a sauna and makes it difficult for me to enjoy my weekend sleep-ins – preventing from me to sleep past a mere 10:30 am.

Given all this within settling, work already seems busier and more exciting than my droning coffee-shop days in Manila researching organic mango farming. Not that I have given up on mangoes and in fact, have been assigned to write a business plan. It’s difficult to be given an assignment you feel, as is, you cannot complete. But, given the wonders of Google, I am already done my research and downloaded business plan literature and “how-tos.”

The project here is typical of most of the research projects IPA conducts in the Philippines, regarding microfinance.

Innovations for Poverty Action (IPA) is a non-profit research institution which scientifically evaluates microfinance products and other development initiatives in Asia, Africa, and Latin America (http://www.poverty-action.org/, http://www.povertyactionlab.org/). In its research, IPA partners with local microfinance institutions and banks all across the Philippines to evaluate their product innovation and outreach. In essence, IPA evaluated programs and determines broadly whether a particular intervention has had the desired effect on individuals and households and whether it is directly responsible for those effects. I would say that my background in econometrics (thanks to 3 quarters of QM Data Analysis courses at IR/PS), including having the privilege of studying under Prof. McIntosh, a celebrity in the field of microfinance, particularly in Africa, has prepared me for the understanding of IPA’s research habits. Essentially, as Gen boiled it down for me, IPA employees in the field conduct research and basic analysis to assist the overseeing professors (Dean and JZ) in writing econometric-style papers. In fact, to my surprise and enjoyment, both Luke and Dean are familiar with McIntosh’s work and think highly of him. Given this, IPA relies heavily and exclusively on using an experimental design that they think to be the most robust methodology (randomized controlled trials) that generates control and treatment groups through randomization, free of selection bias that they claim has clouded microfinance research in the past.

This being said, my position here in Cebu is to collect data and determine what microfinance institutions (MFIs) have entered target areas for the study. We are in partnership with Green Bank of Caraga to test the relative merits of group versus individual liability loan programs. This project will measure the impact of the different lending models for both the institution and the communities in which the bank lends. The evaluation will measure the economic and social impacts of Green Bank loans on the lending program members and their communities; and evaluate the institutional impact of different lending programs by comparing repayment rates, loan size, client retention, drop out and savings mobilization. There are three areas of study being covered: Bohol, Biliran, and Cebu. As aforementioned, I am in charge of covering the study area here in Cebu, and will be working in the field every day, which I highly enjoy. I came here to Philippines, choosing IPA over my other internship opportunity with NP Strategies in San Diego, specifically to get “field experience.” It beats sitting behind a desk, and if work can mean that I can wear flip flops and tank tops, hitching rides on motorbikes, trekking into barangay villages, I am all for it. To put things in perspective, Gen has informed me that this is not a job that suits everyone and some can’t handle the “roughness” of the field (what? no air con?!)…but that’s just me.

So far, I am still in the stages of developing my “list” of MFIs in each barangay of the three municipals targeted in Cebu: Carcar, San Fernando, and Naga. There are about 6-8 barangays in each. To clarify, a barangay is considered a community or village; therefore, many barangays can make up one municipal. It’s actually proven to be a more difficult than I thought, as I first started going around to each barangay during the center meetings to meet the clients face to face and ask them directly for a list of the competitors present in the area. After that proved too time-consuming, I decided to go straight to the municipal halls to get a list from officials there. However, when I realized that the lists given by the municipal halls were significant different from those I had received from the barangays and the clients themselves, Toefilo informed me that many of the institutions do not file permits with the municipal, or “bad banks.” Green Bank was not found on any of the municipal lists. So, now I am back to visiting every barangay, since the barangay halls seem much more knowledge about the institutions present in their areas.

Luckily, Toefilo is my guide, and probably the smartest guy at Green Bank. He is sharp, and charismatic. He can walk into any building and light up the place, bouncing around, poking his head in with a sheepish grin on his face: “AY-YO!” He knows the back streets of every barangay like the back of his hand, and with ease whips me in and out in no time at all. Not to mention, I feel safe riding on the back of his bike. Also, he was the one that started my addiction to halo-halo. And now he is happy, as am I, to share a halo-halo together…even if “on the clock.” He is a hard worker and is sharp and witty. I’ve barely had to explain my project to him and he waltzed in to every establishment probably explaining it better than I could (not that I can be sure, since it’s all in Bisaya dialect).

I sometimes find myself taking for granted my surroundings. When riding on the bike -- trying to put my face down to avoid stray strands of hair whipping me in the face, or an oncoming thick black cloud that we burst through with full force, or a passing truck that I grit my teeth at in hopes of it not side-swiping my long legs that stick out like chicken legs off either sides of the bike – there is a moment, even if for a split second, where there is a break in the row of houses and the coast is exposed. We whiz by crystal-clear blue and green waters, with a few spare coconut palm trees, and some dwindling fisherman in their small but rickety boats out to sea. Or, today, I realized, riding on the back of Toefilo’s bike to some of the remaining barangays I had to cover for Carcar, suddenly that we were on a simple, narrow paved road, big enough to fit two motorcycles on either side, and perhaps a passing car (wouldn’t put it past them to try!), and surrounding us were bright, so bright almost fluorescent, green rice paddy fields, spotted with stark palm trees, and small black and red and blue and yellow mounds moving deep in the thickets to mark the t-shirts and hats and hair of the field workers. I have to smile to myself because it reminds me of where I am. This is where I live. This is where I work. Isn’t it beautiful? I almost cannot believe it. And at that moment, on the bike, whizzing by a field in the middle of the Philippines, I am grateful…and I can’t pinpoint for what.