The Center of Attention

It is appropriate to say I was slightly nervous boarding the flight to Cebu, because the last headline I saw on Facebook was titled "the Philippine president said he wanted to slaughter drug addicts like animals". But then I realized there are 7000+ islands in the Philippines and I am not a drug addict...unless you count chocolate;)

After accepting a Zanex from a good friend who I had just met, I feel into a deep sleep for the 14-hour plane ride. All I can remember is that EVA Airways has very nice vintage slippers (only worn twice before) and that the movie Still Alice is depressing af.

Elise and I arrive at our hostel in Cebu City and were immediately given two complementary Colt 45's. I wonder if Shaggy has ever been to the Philippines. I bet he'd like it here. Anyway, there was a 24 hour DJ who loved early 2000 Chris Brown (can't blame her). I still don't know if she worked in the hostel or if she was just doing a really good job of hogging the aux chord. Sleeping in that hostel felt like being a piece of packaged meat that didn't make it to the freezer, so it's just sweating perfusly on the counter waiting for the fan to reach it. But I'd say we've gotten used to the heat...oh no. Wait, I take that back. Elise got sun poisoning today.

Makeup is unnecessary here. Unless you're planning to drip it from your soaking wet face into a plastic bag and reuse it...leave the mascara at home and bring a sponge. People have been calling Elise and I "Bonita" without it, so I guess this red-faced-sweaty-baby-hairs-chacos-with-culottes look is working for me. I also bought a dry towel from REI to consume my sweat and I can honestly say it is the equivalent to drying myself with a suede winter boot from DSW.

How to stop people yelling HELLO at you: Rub 7/11 ice cream all over your face and shout HELLO back in a super low voice with a Robert DeNiro expression.

Our diet has been us eating diffient forms of meat and rice for breakfast, lunch, and dinner paired with mango juice or instant coffee. We get to play this fun game for every meal of "is this a bone or a small rock?"

My experience in the two islands we visited consisted of the same vicious cycle of four different mental states: extremely confused, overjoyed, scared shitless, and wishing the wifi would connect. Elise and I were always being watched. Not admired. Watched. Like Hawks circling their prey. If people weren't asking us for money, they were asking us to take photos with them...or for more money. For what I can only assume they will put the photos on the facebook page "White Girl Spotting-Philippines". We are obviously foreigners. Even when we were snorkeling in the remote island of Sumilon it was clear that the most exotic thing in the water was Elise and I. We are white people coming into a country which we consider paradise, but for the locals it's the complete opposite. The paranoia began to settle in when even the stray dogs knew to beg from us. And let me tell you about these fkn dogs. They either looked like they'd been lit on fire for a hot second, had mangey-ass dreadlocks, or had boobies so saggy they needed a hair tie to keep them all together. They were the Edward Scissor Hands of dog breed.

An example: In the small town of Dalaguete we went to a place called Obong Springs. This was a place for locals to cool off, while still wearing all of their clothes. Showing up in bathing suits we were yet again very out of place. Trying to blend in we went into the spring with our clothes on. This changed absolutely nothing except now our clothes were wet too. People were staring so intensely at us, it was as if everyone knew there was a giant sea monster under the water and they were waiting for us to get eaten. I'm almost positive one person watching us was slamming a bag of popcorn and wearing 3D glasses. Then in that same town the only other Americans we met were the most horrifyingly-fat-sardine-lookin-ass-dipped-in-yams 60 something year old men who summoned their 17 year old Filipino wives with a silver bell. This is how Americans are being represented in Dalaguete. It was obvious we needed to leave.

Modes of transportation:
The Ceres Bus - It is a convenient big yellow thing that goes around the whole freakin island. Every bus only plays the 2014 rom-com 'Hercules' staring the Rock on repeat. But every time it replayed people acted as if they'd never seen it before. (Filipinos will know the Rock as Hercules, but he will always be the tooth fairy in my eyes).
Van - I played this game when I was younger called 'Need For Speed' and when you hit a chicken you got extra points...well that happened when we were driving back to Puerto Princessa and lemme tell you no one got any extra points. If anything our van driver got negative points. THERE WAS A THUD, THEN A SQUAWK, AND THE DEAD CHICKEN FLEW ACROSS THE WINDSHIELD. We were driving as if all 9 people in the van were going into labor and we had four hours to get to the next hospital.
Jeepney - A colorful scoobydoo type mystery van that you jump into while it's still in motion. Then once you reach your stop you just hambone on the side of the car until you find a good spot to throw yourself out of.
Tricycles - is kinda like uber, sometimes you get it all to yourself, then other times it's a pool and your fitting 7 people on one tricycle.
Motorcycles - Are horrifying but fun. I don't know what is the scariest part is...having your thighs tightly straddling a complete stranger or the issue of never wearing a helmet. You will see people side saddling on a motorcycle...don't try it. You are not that skilled.
Also don't be a puss and take taxis everywhere. Don't be THAT asshole tourist who gawks at people from the safe confines of a tinted, private, air-conditioned cab.

The 17 hour jet lag is kinda great because it gives me a logical excuse to text my mom at 4am.

I went canyoneering and douched myself. GUYS in about 5 seconds so much water entered my body I didn't think I would ever be thirsty again. Willingly got a reverse colonoscopy. I was obviously too scared to do the 20 and 29ft jumps but 35ft sounded okay. I hate the feeling that I am literally jumping to my death, but the feeling of 2 tons of water entering my butt was much worse. Meanwhile our tour guide was literally the chilliest dude to ever exist. He was ignoring us in the beginning (playing hard to get) making me want his gratification even more. Then once we started getting to the jumps he would start smoking a cigarette and somehow jump off a 25ft canyon with a lit cigarette still in hand, untouched by the water. Total badassery. Then there would be me, screaming behind him like one of the goats who are tied up on the side of the road.

You cannot wear sunscreen around the whale sharks because they need to maintain their tans for the winter.

Being in El Nido was like living in the world of Avatar...the Last Airbender obviously. The scenery was beautiful, but the town was filled with villains. Small villains disguised as 5 year olds who would put you in a trance by singing Merry Christmas then steal your money. Pure sorcery. We did Tour A with a jokester named Warren who either had a fairy or giant mosquito neck tattoo and nine toes. Warren would say things like "I've been to the US... in my dreams!" and "that cave has wifi" and "I will kill you when you get off this boat. I am not joking. I will seriously kill you for real" such a funny guy.

There is a check point on the way to El Nido where the van has to stop and a mysterious man searches everyone's bags for mangos. This is not a joke. There is a literal mango check point. I'm imagining what would happen if someone successfully smuggled in a bag of Mangos...I feel like a team of small men in hazmat suits would just appear and tackle the criminal to the ground. Something similar to that scene in Monsters Inc, you know the one.

Welp, while the pollution probably took 4 years off my life it was worth it. It was crazy but there are so many other islands we didn't get to see so I gotta go back. Now if you'll excuse me I need to take a shower in a Manila airport bathroom sink. Thx

Don’t Ask Me How My Trip Was

Ireland is a strange place where the people participate in strange activities. I saw an Irish man walking down the street mid-day while simultaneously chugging a gallon of milk. I assumed he was participating in some secret Gallon Challenge and when I asked to join he was greedy as hell and said “THIS IS MINE” then sprinted away. But like every other white simpleton girl who studied abroad, I learned soooooooooooooooooo much about myself. I realized karma’s a bitch, but so am I and maybe I should stop stealing things…but I probably wont. Also I don’t take other people’s bullshit very well. That’s why I spit on a 15 year-olds face, got in a fistfight on the night bus, and got kicked out of my homestay. I regret nothing.

I also fulfilled my life long dream of working as an unpaid prison bitch at the Irish Parliament. I believe with this and my participation in the Kony 2012 protest march in DC, I’m finally ready to join the presidential election. Me working at Parliament was no different then when a mom takes her angsty 13 year old to work. I just sat in her office messing with Facebook until lunch finally rolled around and I could go see my friends. I had no idea what I was doing there. The senator I was working for can only be described as a mash up of Leslie Knope and an Irish Hillary Clinton. She was v chill to the point where I WANTED to know how to do my job… but that never ended up happening until sweet sweet Adam came along. Adam was such an ideal gay Irish man: 21 years young, long hair don’ care, long nails may need a trim, already been engaged, once drank a whole bottle of Hennessy on a plane, enjoys Russian pop, loves chocolate muffins, and knows all the dirty gossip going on in Parliament. He was a great companion.  

Things you need to know about Parliament: The lunchroom will take years off your life. It is so fucking stressful just grab a scone AND GO. The bathroom sink water is boiling hot so the Sinn Fein politicians can wash the blood off their hands. The copy room is a good place to hide, but if you are in there too long people will think you work there. NEVER PICK UP THE PHONE. You will not be able to understand peoples accents, especially if they are from Kerry. If you are a person of any color other then white, be prepared to be questioned at the gate…because those assholes are racist.  

I came to the realization that when I die, RyanAir will be the airline that takes me to hell. While the flight would be very cheap all my hell coins would go to the $6 water, flight attendants make-up, and the electricity bill for the fluorescent lights.

It was an interesting change when the male Irish accents quickly went from a flirty first couple weeks of “oooo I wonder what they’re saying hehehe” to the last months filled with the sheer anger and dissatisfaction of “WHAT THE FUCK ARE THEY EVEN SAYING???”

Matt Cooper looks like a penis.

Penny’s is a glorious place, but I will never forgive them for the atrocity that is “low rise tights”.

I made a unique lifelong bond with the 15 other students who endured the program with me. I’m happy that the only strange people involved had minor glove fetishes and an unreasonable self-confidence, which resulted in a small tailored suit hung outside on a hanger covered in vomit. And while things ended on a freaky note with everyone making out with each other developing into some sort of uncomfortable orgy, everyone was cool besides that.

I ended my trip on a very good note with my new (awesome) home stay family. I cannot thank them enough. They were such incredible people, and proved to me that not all Irish families are psychotic catholics who are obsessed with butter. Sending all my good vibes to Rose, Sophie, Kailin, Odie and the rest of the crew!