Come in, I've been expecting you

Twas a long day yesterday (thursday, actually). I accompanied mom to Batangas, her father’s hometown. Considering I came from work the night before… I had just a few hours of sleep. I couldn’t sleep because I was anxious of how the day’s going to turn out. Like will I survive the trip? Will I be able to get along with the people there? Was thinking about lotsa things. Twas around 2 in the morning that I was able to finally doze. Only that I kept waking up, checking the time.

I slept on the couch in front of the television. I didn’t turn it off or set it to turn off by itself. I intended not to. Dunno, but, since my office friends told me about ghost stories, I’ve become uncomfortable staying in the living room by myself with the lights off. I couldn’t sleep with the lights on so, I left the television on the whole night.

At past 4am, I started fixing myself after I read mom’s text message telling me we need to leave at 5:30. I didn’t bother taking a long shower anymore. Also, the water’s cold so… The thought of commuting to Batangas alone made me feel sick. She couldn’t bring the car so, we had to put up with the hassles of commuting. I reiterated to myself that I shouldn’t give mom a headache. I secured some finger snacks and candies in case I get dizzy during the 2 and a half hours trip. Oh, did I mention that mom sent me a text message telling me we have to leave at 5:30? She actually, reached my place 7:00. I was able to nap a few times between 5:30 and 7!

The bus ride was not as exhausting. The heat was. Mom kept me entertained with her stories. She’s so loquacious. Don’t get me wrong…it’s actually a compliment. Since, I don’t have anything to talk about, I asked her questions. Different questions like mostly about her relatives who I was about to meet. As if, I’d really remember them all through her stories.

We went straight to the hospital where her lola Pacing is confined. Oh, I haven’t mentioned yet the purpose why we had to go to Batangas (when I should be at home resting). Her aunt, lola Pacing has terminal cancer. Lola Pacing is her father’s older sister. She leaves in the bahay kubo beside a small chapel. Well, that’s the only thing that reminds me of her so, it’s important that I mention it here.

Lola Pacing is a tall woman. It shows in her long arms and legs. When we got inside her room, she was sitting on one side of the bed facing the door. She’s so skinny. Like really skinny…(what should I expect?) Well, it’s lung cancer she’s battling with. We stayed there for some minutes and then left.

The next destination was the bahay kubo (lola Pacing’s house. i call it bahay kubo due to lack of adjectives to use...hehe...it looks like a bahay kubo to me!). There were some people reconstructing it. I think the area also tasted the wrath of the super storm that struck the country a week ago. We stayed in one corner since everyone’s busy doing something. Both men and women there had something to do. Damn, I thought to myself, good for me that I wasn’t born in the province! They are damn assiduous! Gosh! Like they don’t even stop to rest. The women, I noticed, were cooking for the men doing the carpentry. And the weather is damn irritating. Humid and scorching hot. Whew!

I felt a lil bored because although they were talking, I couldn’t understand what they were talking about. Like clueless. Dunno what language (dialect) they’re using. Or they just didn’t want me to understand them? Hmmmm…well of course not! What? scheming not to get me involved in their conversation! That’s pretty petty! Wild imagination you have, paper tiger!

They did try to make me feel comfortable. Like, they set an electric fan right beside me. It helped somehow. Lunch was ready. Mom and I didn’t right off eat. We had the working people eat first. They need food the most. All the while I was thinking how was I going to eat? What was I to take? Oh! I felt so helpless. I didn’t want to make them feel bad or something. I wanted to get along. Good thing they used serving spoons. At least…only whenever they get rice or viands, they just touched the food. Like, they couldn’t help it. Whoa! Please, just let me get mine *sigh*.

I don’t think I will ever survive in the province, really. More observations…but I just don’t want to share them anymore. I mean, people differ because of different factors like upbringing, culture, and what have you… I respect each and every person I meet. Just that I felt weird because that’s not the kind of environment I grew up with. Like, they talk loud…like yelling at each other. I even thought they’re already fighting or something. Oh well…it’s them. But, one thing I can say about Batanguenos…they’re so caring. You’ll always feel their warmth. You’d feel you’re welcome, you won’t feel left out. Something I didn’t feel with dad’s family. There’s close-family-ties.

When I was younger, I often heard about close-family-ties from school. It’s one of the dominant traits of the Filipinos. Hospitality being the first. I just heard about it. But I never knew what it really meant til I met mom’s family and relatives. It’s not just really about staying together or doing things together. It’s actually more than that. There’s a certain bond between them. Something that’s not physical, rather, emotional. It’s an attachment. It’s feeling and caring for one another. And you can truly feel it with them. I can’t really describe it as how I feel it but I hope in case you haven’t experienced what a close-family-ties is, I hope you would. It’s such an experience. Experience is indeed the best teacher.