Monkeys, Banana Leaves, and Orphans on the Street

The day is almost nigh to fly away for two years. For those who do not know yet, I'm heading to the Philippines tomorrow for a month to visit family I haven't seen since I was eight. After that, I'm flying to Thailand to officially start my teaching career at an international Christian school in Bangkok. They'll only be a few days in between flying in and flying out, but those days are still going to packed pretty heavily despite jet lag. There's a going away party to go to, final packing to take care of, and a wedding 4.5 hours away to attend -- basically three and a half days of saying goodbye to people over and over........and over again. While gone, I'll be missing weddings, important birthdays, and babies' births. I'd definitely call those sacrifices, but really, who can be there for everything?

Philippines.
Land that I barely know. Relatives I only remember by name. Culture that has only reached me in a watered-down version via my mother. Humidity. Please, no humidity. I know it's an impossible plea, but after moving away from Guam forever ago, I really have no need for moisturized air. I'd like to drink water in a cup thank you, and not inhale it through my nose. I'm excited to go, don't get me wrong, but the actuality of my trip won't hit me until I'm actually on the plane and over the Pacific. Even being in airports doesn't give me the rush it used to (maybe because I'm traveling with family and not away from them).

It is a land that shows its vibrant and brash colors in the open but keeps true feelings carefully concealed. Class systems interact on a daily, almost hazardous, basis where even the least amount of American money makes the traveling visitor flashy. I'll be entering the country with a different perspective than most -- I'm not technically from there, my mom is; my connection to family members living there is weak; and I am not familiar with the language they're most apt to use. They all speak English, but would rather not if they can help it. Must be nice actually having a choice as to which language to use. I'll never know. I am a hybrid. A woman caught between two countries, yet feeling like I have to choose one in order to be truly whole.

I am a visitor to my own past. A past involving an exotic land filled with curious creatures and orphan pick-pocketers. All seen through the broken memories of an eight year old. How different will that be from the new eyes of a 25 year old woman?