My cutie pie niece (Taken with instagram)
Where I ended up during the holidays (Taken with instagram)
Bugoy begging for a treat (Taken with instagram)
Probinsya (Taken with instagram)
View from the porch: Mom’s garden (Taken with instagram)
I just came back from a trip to Thailand last Sunday and as the plane readied for landing at Changi, it just hit me that hey, this is gonna be my home for the forseeable future. I mean, yes, I know on an intellectual level that Singapore is gonna be home for the next year or so, but I guess on a visceral level I still consider myself a visitor here—the Philippines is still home.
As the plane readied for landing, and I can hear the sighs of relief of people who are at journey’s end and looking forward to home, it struck me that while I was looking forward to a good night’s rest, it wasn’t the same as going home. Don’t get me wrong. I like Singapore and love my friends and I’m comfortable where I live but I still don’t feel like I’m part of the fabric of life here. Does this make sense?
During the trip I was always asked where I was from and there’s always a pause, barely discernible, before I answer Singapore; I guess I’m still not used to saying it. And when people hear where I’m from, I always get a confused reaction. I guess I don’t look and sound Singaporean. So I always follow it with, but I’m Filipino—and then their faces clear. All this has made me a bit unsettled—like a teenager trying to figure out where she belongs.
Anyways, enough moping. I’m here and I’m happy—for the most part—and I get to go places I won’t otherwise see. That’s a good enough reason to be here for now.
I regularly get e-mail from Greenpeace. Since it’s summer vacation time here in the Philippines, they just sent out some green vacation tips like bottling your own water, reducing your waste, etc. This is the one tidbit that stood out for me.