Being born and raised in America to Filipino parents, I grew up with two different sets of cultural values.
I picked up the Tagalog dialect from hearing my mom and dad speak it around the house. Growing up, there were aspects of my Filipino heritage that I loved. The food was always delicious and I would get excited every time my mother cooked my favorite dish, chicken adobo. However, like any other teenager, I tried to rebel against it to become more assimilated into American culture.
It was not until the summer of 2013 when I visited the Philippines with my parents that I truly appreciated my heritage and got a clearer grasp of who I am and where I came from.
There’s just something surreal about stepping on the soil of a different country for the first time, especially when that country is where your roots lie. I remember getting off that airplane and immediately feeling the humidity in the air. To anyone else living there it was just another hot July evening in the Philippines, but I felt more than just the stickiness of the night’s air. I was anxious, but it was like there was something magical all around me.As we left the airport, I sat in the backseat of my uncle’s van as I took in the surroundings of the countryside. The first thing I noticed was the tall coconut and banana trees. Then, I observed the open spaces and mountains that went up so high they blended in with the clouds. I was also mesmerized by how crisp and blue the water looked, and I wished I could just stop at each beach and bathe in those clear waters.
We drove through small rural towns, passing huts and market vendors. We watched as the locals worked hard to sell freshly picked vegetables and fruits to the families passing through—with their children who are ran around chasing each other. The children waved and stared at the vehicles driving by and I waved back. I admired how they were able to find happiness and enjoy the simplicity of their life, even though they didn’t have a lot.
During my first weekend in the Philippines, we visited my mom’s side of the family on the island of Cagayan de Oro. That day was filled with tears of overwhelming joy and sorrow. I met my three cousins who up until that very day only communicated with me via Facebook. I was showered with their hugs, kisses and greetings of “Hello, ate”—a title of respect meaning “older sister.” I witnessed my mother reunite with her younger brother after more than twenty years.
I spent a day at an arcade with my cousins racing cars and playing air hockey—simple things that meant so much since we were all making up for lost time. I found one of those photo booths and took a picture with them, one that I keep in my wallet up to this day. In one image, all of us, except my 5-year-old male cousin, are exposing our white teeth—the resembling smiles proving we’re all related. In the other image, I make a face like I’m trying to channel a blowfish as they imitate me.
My last day in Cagayan was spent in Bukidnon, the town where my parents wed. My dad told me stories about how he worked at the pineapple plantation there after he graduated and pointed to the exact spot where he first met my mom. I’ve heard these stories many times before, but there’s something different about finally being able to put a visual with the words. My parents showed me the home they lived in after they got married. I began to have the strange thought that I could’ve been born here and had a completely different life. Though, that didn’t happen because they knew if they stayed in the Philippines, they would struggle financially to raise a child. When my mom found out she was pregnant with me, my dad made the decision to come to America for graduate school and find work to live the American dream.
The next day, I flew to the island of Luzon to visit Quezon City by Manila, where my father grew up. Immediately, I noticed the distinct differences between the two atmospheres. I was astonished at the amount of cars and motorcycles on the streets and how drivers and pedestrians don’t seem to follow any of the rules, while I hoped I’d make it to my grandparents’ house alive. But, most of all, I was fascinated by all the Jeepneys, the Philippines’ most popular form of public transportation that looks like a cross between a military jeep and a bus. Each jeepney is decorated with different flamboyant and detailed hand-painted designs based on the owners’ interests, from solid colors to sports teams and cartoon characters. Even in all its congested glory, there was something that still drew me to metro Manila and all its craziness. While in Quezon City, I was reunited with my grandparents from my dad’s side who I hadn’t seen since they left the States in 2000. Within the next few days, I reunited with even more cousins and my dad reunited with all three of his siblings for the first time since 1994.
My last days were still spent on the island of Luzon, but my family and I ventured out of metro Manila. Our final destination was Batangas, a beach in rural Luzon. I spent hours out in the sun playing in the sand and water until my skin burnt to a crisp as I drowned out my mom and grandma’s yells to put on sunscreen. During my last night there, I stayed at the shore with my family to watch the sun set. I waited and waited, until finally at half past six, the whole sky erupted with an explosion of orange, like someone set a flame to the sky and let it run wild. I can finally check watching the sunset with people I love off my bucket list.
Coming to the Philippines for the first time, I can honestly say I had no idea what to expect. I got to see many different places—it was both emotional and overjoying. It was definitely an eye-opening experience and made me appreciate my culture even more and reminded me that even though I was born in another country that doesn’t mean I should forget about where I truly come from. I got to immerse myself in the country’s culture and see its beautiful parts such as the beaches and scenery, and sadly, the not-so-good parts, such as the areas of poverty, but seeing and experiencing all of that is what makes the Philippines what it is. And I was glad to be able to see all of it in its entirety. In all the beaches, in the homes of my families, underneath the fiery sunsets and beneath the soil where my roots lie, I left a little piece of my heart there as well.
