Rachel Hampton

As the cockroach turns… June 23, 2010

Yes, I have a regular soap opera involving me, cockroaches, and a fight to the death. I’m sorry I keep bringing it up but honestly, they are invading my life and I hate bugs soooooo, you hear about it.

Now before you think I am some nasty pig who never cleans her place, this is a tropical climate. They just thrive here….nothing can be done. EVERYONE has cockroaches in Manila. It’s a way of life. One that I am not adapting to very well. I have only ever found them in the kitchen, which seems natural enough. But these are not tiny little pests…they are about the size of….let me think….OH! One of those big pink erasers you bought for elementary school. You know, one of those things below:

Granted I know I could’ve just uploaded a picture of an actual cockroach but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. They’re in my life too much as it is. But the pink eraser…NOW you understand the enormity of the situation! Seriously, just had a body shiver thinking of it.

Ok, back to my story. They’re usually in the kitchen. My shoe attacks. I scoop up the dead body (careful not to let it touch me whatsoever). I whine. I clean up cockroach guts. All is right with the world once again. I’m also always scanning the kitchen whenever I enter it now for any traces of an insect to kill. If there was a demand for stealth cockroach assassins in the army, I would be born for that role. Seeing as how that is not yet a need, I’ll remain here for a bit longer. But guys, if you need me, I’ll do my part for the country!

Oops, got off track again. So last night everything changed. The cockroach epidemic adjusted course. There was a migration. From kitchen to bathroom. Guess there is some military know-how in these bugs as well. Always attack your opponent when they least expect it. I was unprepared. Just going to the bathroom for, well, matters of business when suddenly out of the corner of my eye….

COCKROACH ON THE FLOOR!

Moment of panic. I didn’t know what to do. It was between me and the door. Did my foot touch it when I came in? Body shiver. Could I make it past it without being attacked? Unlikely. What could I kill it with? Toilet paper? Ew. 1. The dispenser was too close to the battlezone 2. Toilet paper is thin. There is a chance I would feel it through the layers. No. No. 3. That would make me get waaaay too close.

Scan of my surroundings again. Bag of cotton balls. I could whip it to death. Would that work or would the impact be too soft thus allowing the cockroach to escape? Keep looking. Shampoo bottle. Messy and I would not want to touch that bottle again. Slight whine escapes. Focus Rachel, never give up hope! Bucket in the shower! With dipper! I never use those. What are they even there for? I’m not Asian, I don’t know. I still haven’t been able to figure out how you use them to wash yourself after a potty break. Don’t your pants get wet? Are you really clean? Do you leave with a wet mess all over the floor?

I digress. The dipper. That would work! There is a handle thus assuring maximum distance from point of impact. It’s solid and sure to kill. I quickly grabbed and swug with appropriate force. Cockroach on it’s back. Slightly moving. Hit #2.

COCKROACH FLIPS….TRIES TO RUN….GOING TO GET AWAY!!!!

Hit #3, 4, 5.

Pause.

Dead.

Scoops cockroach into dipper. Flushes down toilet. Escapes from bathroom without ever completing business. I mean it was just in there! It could be resurrected and return from the sewers to attack. No, I can hold it. And hold it I did. For an insane amount of time considering the absolute ridiculous reasoning for avoidance.

So the saga continues. I won’t say this is the series finale, because I’m pretty sure it won’t be. The cockroaches will be back. But I’ll have my dipper. And I’ll be ready.

Learning Tagalog June 11, 2010

Hi, I’m American.

Like many Americans, I only speak English. (boo)

I am not happy with that fact.

That is the basic information you need to know, first of all. I’ve always wanted to learn another language, it’s just never happened. Let’s look back to high school. You’re forced to take a foreign language. Being the independent middle child that I am, I decided I was going to take French instead of Spanish like my two older siblings had done. Oh the stories I could tell you about that class! It was crazy and fun and not filled with the most brainy of students…if I’m being honest. I remember one girl tried to hot glue chocolate chips to paper to represent the Pyrenees mountain range. Chocolate. HOT glue. Enough said.

So I can’t say that I tried my hardest in that class. But I’m not sure it would’ve mattered. I was HORRIBLE at the pronunciation. In fact, I once tried to speak French to a friend from church whose parents were from Congo. He literally could not understand a word I said.  I swear I was speaking French. I think. Or maybe it was more like Joey’s attempt on Friends…

Moving on to college. I decided to try Spanish. Much easier to pronounce and, I heard, learn. It was easier, BUT, I had four semesters of it with a different teacher each time. It is hard to learn that way. Now since I have not used it in however many years, I remember very little Spanish.

So, now I’m in Manila, Philippines. Before I came, everyone insisted I would not need to learn another language because everyone speaks English. That is partially true. Most people here do speak conversational English, though not all. The thing I have come to realize is that English is not what most would choose to speak on a regular basis. Here, the first language is Tagalog (tah-gah-log). When I am taking public transport to work, this is what I hear. When I walk down the street, this is what I hear. When the women in the office talk to each other, this is what I hear. Not only would I love to learn Tagalog to be able to speak it, but I think it shows people respect. I am living in their country, why not learn their language?

I have had five lessons so far. My teacher is amazingly sweet and patient. Tagalog is not an easy language, but it is fun to try to learn. I still cannot carry on a conversation, but I am able to pick up words everyday as people chat around me. Slowly but surely. The sound is similar to spanish and they even use some spanish words since they were ruled by the spanish for so many years. I will say this: I hate sentence structure. Not fun, not fun at all. Still, I am determined to keep studying and, by the time I leave, be better than when I came. Shouldn’t be too hard!

Ingat po kayo (take care)!

Do you sea what I sea? June 2, 2010

Yes, the play on words is intentional. If you know me, it is no secret that I dislike seafood. It’s not for lack of trying. I have tasted many types, often more than once, in hopes that my tastebuds have changed and I can now tolerate eating the creatures of the sea. Well, it wasn’t as much my hopes as the hopes of friends who were determined to convert me into a fish lover. Unfilled hopes, I might add.

As for me, I’m perfectly fine with not eating seafood. I don’t feel I’m missing out on anything. There’s chicken, beef, pork, turkey…all of which I truly love. Why try to force something that is just not going to happen? I am not starving. I still have a healthy portion of meat on my bones. Maybe even too healthy.  Let’s hear it for love-handles!

The problem is, I live in Asia, in the Philippines. A country that is surrounded by water. And what is in these waters? Food! Just not food I care to eat. I get a strange look from people here when they find out I don’t like seafood. It is a foreign concept to them. Then like many blessed souls, they want to help by assuring me I just haven’t tasted the right kind of fish. The fresh kind. Once I do that, I’ll never be the same. Problem is, I have done that. Still don’t like it. Sorry. It’s just so….fishy. I know, I am weird. Blame it on my mom’s allergies to most seafood. Perhaps there is a heriditary anti-fish gene that was passed down somewhere.

People often want to know what it is that I dislike so much about seafood.  I’ve generously compiled a list….apparently for my own humiliation. But look people, God created us all differently for a reason. Let’s embrace each other despite odd meal preferences, ok?

1. The smell. Fish stink. You cannot convince me otherwise. When I walk through a market by the fish stalls, I must start breathing through my mouth so I do not gag. I wish I were exaggerating. Occasionally a neighbor in my apt building will cook some kind of fish breakfast. A food I always assumed was never meant to be consumed during the early hours of the morning. I generally tend to set world records in my speed for getting ready for work those days. But maybe if the time comes for fish to start smelling like vanilla or chocolate or coffee…I will jump on board and start downing them.
2. If it wasn’t for the taste. I’m not sure how to describe it, but to say it tastes….FISHY. I don’t like it. I think this is the most basic and understandable reason for not eating a particular type of food. How can you argue with logic?
3. It stares at you. A fish head on my plate with it’s gray, glossy eye stalking my every move? I’m not a fan.
4. Is it alive or isn’t it? There is something so wrong about eating something that is in the same state as it was when it was alive. I like my food to be cooked and in a different configuration so I don’t have to think about the fact that I’m eating some creature that was alive not that long ago. Lobster. When I crack the shell, it seems like I’m breaking it’s bones. Creepy. I feel like a canibal. Fish. Let’s go back up to #3…don’t forget about that. But also, it looks like it was just alive (and probably was)! I can’t get past it. Prawns. Big bugs. That is what they look like. And I don’t like bugs. It may be a mind block, but I cannot bring myself to put one of those in my mouth. Please don’t make me.
5. The bones. It is hard work to eat a fish here in Asia. You have to pick out all the tiny bones as you eat. I’m a lazy consumer. I just want to put something tasty in my mouth, chew, and swallow. I was even taught how to properly open up a newly dead fish in order to eat it. I opened. I ate it. I’m hoping I won’t have to use that skill in the future.

Lucky for me I live with some of the most hospitible and friendly people in the world. After the initial shock, they generally don’t care too much about my interesting eating habits. Not only that, but the Philippines has some delicious food! And really almost any kind that you could want. But if you ever visit here, let me recommend a couple traditional Filipino dishes that you must try. Sisig. Adobo. Tocino. Pancit. Those are my favorites and DELECTIBLE! You won’t be sorry.

You know, I may never encounter a true seafood conversion, but I know I will never starve in this wonderful city!