Pictures from Town

 

(J with a skull on a stick)

 

(Sunrise in town)

 

(The real Christmas tree)

(My small sparkler contribution to the fireworks) 

Let the Butiki Stay Inside

I love butikis.  No really, I do.  Forget the days when I would huddle, frozen in fear, at whatever was creeping along my wall. Butikis are my new best friends.  They're my knights in shining armor.  Why?  Because those hardcore lizards eat spiders.  They eat all sorts of creepy crawlies that would otherwise be eating me, and since I'm more bug-bite than human right now, I say let the butikis stay inside.

Aside from my newly formed allegiance with the lizards, New Years celebrations have come and gone.  All over the city, fireworks exploded from dusk until pretty much dawn.  Some of our neighbors set off their last fire crackers while we ate our breakfast this morning.  The near-constant explosions and the residual smoke made it really feel like a war zone.  It was both exciting and terrifying.  As midnight drew closer, anything that could be used to make noise was put to use: air horns, chain saws, car engines, karaoke, empty cans, you name it. 

So, Happy New Year!  And bring it on 2017.  I've been waiting for you.

Make That Goose An Albino Turkey

That's right, albino turkeys.  Or maybe they're just white turkeys.  Calling them albino certainly makes it sound more exotic, though.  Either way, our neighbors here at the guest house have a whole flock of them.  Is it a flock of turkeys? Or a gaggle? A host? A murder?  I digress.

For the first time in about 5 weeks, I'm able to spend a few minutes this morning just soaking up sunshine.  Sure, my chair is soggy, my feet are thoroughly dusted in chalk, and J brought me a dead thing on a stick, but the sun is shining.  Somehow that, of all things, makes it feel like Christmas.

We're spending Christmas in the "Tricycle Capital."  I'll do my best to get a picture of the roads before we leave because it's chock full of motorcycles with covered sidecars, AKA tricycles.  I love reading their names as we drive past them.  Usually, the bike has one name and the sidecar will have another name. For example: today one of the bikes was Angie, while her counterpart was Lena.  It makes for an interesting drive across town, to say the least.  This Christmas, I'm thankful that I don't have to drive at all while I'm here.  I don't think my heart could take it. Just being a passenger gives me palpitations.

Last night, we set up our "real" tree, which is actually a fake tree, but it's more real than a paper chain tree. That, paired with the promise of baking some time today, makes a girl really feel like it just might be Christmas in 6 days after all.

Christmas Pictures

 

(The girls and our tree)

 

(From my flight into town)

 

(The nice ankle deep mud we hiked to the helipad in)

Merry Christmas 🎄

The Goose Is Getting Fat

As Christmas comes closer and we relocate to town for the holiday, I find myself wishing it felt more like Christmas.  There is something distinctly non traditional about waiting for one last helicopter flight on an open porch through spats of chilly rain. Of course, we're looking for Christmas cookie recipes, discussing different egg replacements, planning where we'll put the tree, and maybe I'll feel more like celebrating once we start those activities. If only that dang helicopter would get here.

Of course, this feeling eventually dissolves into a "Vivian-get-yourself-together-remember-what-Christmas-is-really-about" mood.

My Instagram loaded for the first time in a while, because usually won't load my friends' posts even though I can post, and I was amazed to see snow.  It's all fairy lights, and Santas, and Nutcrackers, and cookies, and trees, and I don't even miss it. I don't feel like anyone should be doing those things. It isn't time!  Except that it is.

So, bah humbug and Merry Christmas!  Feeling the season or not, I'm the happiest I've been in a long time, and I'm thankful enough for that.

Except Peanut Butter and Jam

I knew being a vegan in a tribal setting would be...interesting, to say the least.  Even before I arrived in the village, I had mentally prepared myself to experience one of two fates.  On the one hand, I could be forced to eat animal byproducts and spend 80% of my time in the CR (which apparently means comfort room, and that's what Filipinos call the bathroom).  On the other hand, I would manage to survive solely on rice and the random bean I could scrounge up.  Thank God, neither of those things happened, but I thought I'd share some of my food experiences so far.

Day one, I learned something extremely important.  Soy sauce.  Liberally and frequently.  When in doubt, soy sauce.  Every time.  No ifs, ands, or buts.  Soy sauce.  Except on peanut butter and jam, because I'm an American and I'm pretty sure PB&J should be our national dish.  More on that later.

Also on day one, I made a pretty sweet discovery: you can buy rice anywhere.  Wendy's?  Rice.  McDonald's?  Rice.  Shakey's?  Rice.  Of course, that doesn't mean anything in a tribe miles away from everything.

I also learned that rice isn't always just some white or brown grain.  Sticky rice makes a pretty radical dessert.  I don't know what they call it in Tagalog (a quick Google search says Biko, so maybe that's it), but what's in a name?  It comes in all different flavors and colors.  White is coconut, yellow is sweet corn, purple is something I forgot the name of, and brown is plain.  And, yeah, that business is vegan!  Be still my salivating taste buds.  There is also a dish made from glutinous rice balls and coconut milk.  Again, vegan.  Again, drooling at the memory of it.

Continuing in the dessert realm, we make ice cream from frozen mango and coconut milk (do I need to say it? VEGAN) or from frozen bananas (*ahem* Vegan). And yes, we do make it in the village.  And yes, that is why I will be at least 5 lbs heavier upon returning to the States. 

Calabasa is a sort of squash that is kind of like a pumpkin and a sweet potato's love child.  I've learned to love it.  It's good with sugar or soy sauce.  Why not get crazy?  I bet I could even eat it with sugar and soy sauce.  In the words of Samwise Gamgee, "Boil 'em, mash 'em, stick 'em in a stew..."  It's even good in a pie, though I haven't tried soy sauce on the pie.

We've also started making humus, because it's super easy to make once we get garbanzo beans shipped in.  And yeah, I eat that business with soy sauce.  One of my favorite hodge-podge dishes consists of raw cucumber, left over pasta, humus, and soy sauce.  Don't knock it till you've tried.  After all, someone wise once said necessity is the mother of invention.

The villagers have asked the missionaries more than once if I'm okay, if I need anything, and if I do alright without eating meat.  They were shocked to find out that I don't even eat eggs, and are certain I must be miserable.  Unfortunately, most of the traditional dishes are primarily made of meat, so I won't be able to sample them.  I don't think this is a very great loss, though.  They might tell you a dish has pork, and that's true.  The recipe does call for pork.  However, they most likely made it with a dog that killed one too many chickens.  Or they might just make it with a dog because that's what they have.  Nobody seems to mind and my theory is soy sauce.  Good news, most of the traditional desserts are made without dog, or any other meat, and usually use coconut milk, so I'll be able to sample those.

Now to explain PB&J.  I eat it close to 5 times a week, at least.  Or PB&Banana.  Or PB all alone.  Or I'll swap PB for almond butter.  Oh yeah, and I also learned how to make vegan bread, so I eat it on homemade bread.  Every.  Single.  Time.  No soy sauce required.  Sure, I eat a lot of rice and beans, but I also eat a lot of PB&J, or beans with other stuff plus soy sauce, like calabasa.

And that's how I vegan in the Philippines.  Thank God for soy sauce.

Hiking Photos (at least the two that loaded)

 (The Goal)

(Viewpoint part way up)

A Canadian, A German, and An American Take A Hike...

For anyone who doesn't know, tropical rainy season can put a damper on outdoor activities.  I'm not complaining, really, it's just the facts.  The weather was on our side yesterday and today, though, so I was allowed to take the day off of teaching for some outdoor exploration.  Monday sun dried the mud a little bit and Tuesday shine let three of us set out on a hike to one of the surrounding peaks.  Don't be mistaken, these mountains don't let you hike for free.  My price: ant bites the size of quarters, an attack from grass that would like to slice anyone's smaller appendages off,  a purple toenail, a run-in with a bird-eating spider, and a migraine the size of Texas.  Trust me, I know because I drove across the Lone Star State once.

Skipping ahead to afterward for a moment, I learned that there is something distinctly disturbing about hopping in the shower after a hike only to watch the carious bugs crawl/fall off you in droves.  I hiked a good amount in the States, but I've never had so many bugs nestled in my clothes after a hike as I did today.  My coping mechanism is as follows:

1. Take several deep, calming breaths.
2. Repeat the mantra "The view was worth it" over and over, both out loud and in your head.
3. Scrub hard.
4. Pray they all go down the drain and that nothing burrowed in your skin.
5. At that thought, repeat Step 1.

Back to the hike, though.   We were able to follow mud *ahem* 'dirt' roads up the first crest and along the ridge to the higher peak.  About a quarter mile from the top, we got to hack our way through with a machete!  I was in itchy, crusty, soggy heaven.  Despite the knowledge that other people have journeyed to that peak before, I felt like an explorer.  Why not?  I was exploring things new to me, and isn't that the point?  After a couple minutes of standing in the death grass (as I like to call it) staring at the view, we headed back down.  There were a couple moments where I literally held onto a vine and propelled part of the way down.  Like I said, totally worth all of the pain.

Once we got back and ate lunch, the migraine laid me out for a good chunk of the afternoon.  Then I regained some consciousness, I saw a message I had missed from my mom: "What is the name of your blog?"  Um...oops?  So, hi, Mom.  Love you.  Here's the blog I told you I was going to start.