Blue Sky, Black Earth

A Motorcycle

2007-07-09T21:10:00.000-07:00

After many years of half-heartedly lusting after a motorbike, this May I finally took the trouble to earn my endorsement. Since I didn't own a bike at the time my options were rather limited, either the written DOL and borrow a bike for the skills portion, or a course. In the end, I took a motorcycle safety course over Memorial Day weekend, passed the written and skills portions of the class, and changed my drivers license to reflect my new status - that of a two-wheeled hellion (sans wheels). The instructors provided the bikes (Honda CB125) and the closed course track was located next to an airfield - it felt a little strange riding around in circles for hours on end, but you should see my left-hand turn!

The endorsement was burning a hole in my pocket, waiting to be used, but a bike just didn't seem to be a realistic possibility. Kari Ann and I are looking for a house, working, and mountaineering - these activities were thought to preclude any further expenditures. As it turns out through a series of random conversations, I have become the new owner of a 1984 BMW R65. The previous owner (Ben), a friend through the Mountaineers, had recently purchased a newer K-Series bike, and agreed to send his old ride off to a good home! I've been happily tinkering away at it ever since, and hope to have it back together before too long - given that I can find a reliable source for parts!

Thus far the R65 has been easy to work on (as the carburetor and sundry other parts are neatly piled across the living room floor), and seems to be in good shape under all the road grime. Ben rode the bike for many years, clocking in around 90K, and obviously had great affection for the machine. Both he and his wife have good memories of many trips taken across the country through the years. I'm glad to have found a motorcycle through such circumstances, and look forward to riding it for years to come. There is a great network of BMW riders around the country, and people seem genuinely excited to keep these bikes on the road.

Here's where things are so far:

All that needs to happen to have things back together at this point is to rebuild the carbs and get them dialed in. Much more cleaning and replacement of various parts (mostly rubber fittings that have begun to rot) is to be done, but that can wait for the winter!

Mt. Lincoln 6.3.07

2007-06-05T15:50:00.000-07:00

Originally we had thought that our first foray into the Olympics this season should be to Cruiser, the highest and baddest point in the Sawtooth range, but decided to try something a little less epic instead. Lincoln seemed to be a good alternative to a one day attempt at Cruiser, but it was definitely no slouch! Kevin, Eric, Wayne, and myself pushed up loose hillsides and perfect snow slopes to arrive at the point where this shot was taken.

We had wonderful views of pretty much the entire Olympic Range, the most exciting being the remaining Sawtooth peaks. The weather couldn't have been better, and despite a tough brush beat on the way in (and out), the climb went smoothly and enjoyably. We didn't see much wildlife, aside from one goat, but lots of track. The high alpine traverse of the resident elk population was most impressive.

Here we are, a few moments before beginning our decent. Thanks to Kevin for the picture!

Recent Happenings

2005-07-25T15:43:00.000-07:00

1. Spent and enjoyable evening with some Gig Harbor locals discussing ovens, the nature of worthy labor, and wondering why "expect more, pay less" has usurped the National Anthem.

2. Attempted to bottle an amber ale, bake bread, and brew an IPA all in one evening. Success!

3. Acquired a junker motorcycle. If or not it can be revived has yet to be determined, but the prognosis is bleak.

4. Began taking a yoga class at the Morgan YMCA. There is something strange, yet fun, about stretching in a dark room full of women.

5. Circled the names of bars with "open-mic" nights in a local paper. The first step towards playing out has been taken.

Here We Be

2005-07-06T13:45:00.000-07:00

Well, much time has passed - too much to try and rehash - since my last entry. I suppose this sort of opening line officially initiates me into the "blog-o-sphere" and is also an extension of a proclivity towards beginning projects that never really end. As this open journal has been helpful in the past my guess is that it will continue to be so. The funny thing about useful things is that one must actually use them from time to time - disuse tends to mitigate their beneficial nature.

Work continues to go well. I find that my facilities position is positively challenging and continually provides new avenues for learning. How much of this new learning will become permanent remains in question, but enough has stuck to keep me going. As summer camp is moving in full swing, mostly we attempt to keep up. Fix things that break, meet the regular needs of the facilities (garbage and recycling pick up, pool maintenance, et cetera), and keep our eyes open for other items that may arise is the order of the day.

However, I am most excited by the possibilities for projects and other fun things that come with the fall. The Outdoor Education season tends to leave a smaller, more easily managed, footprint on camp than the intensity of summer. Fewer staff and fewer programs leave room for improvements to be made around camp . There are several ideas that I would like to pursue, but these will have to await their proper time. In the Fall.

The time and mental space occupied by work is significant. I have always understood this to be the case, but am now acutely aware of this fact. In returning from the Philippines and beginning a job, basically right away, my priorities in both time and effort have changed dramatically. I go through bouts of guilt and confusion when considering the near complete drop in correspondence precipitated by coming to America. These are promptly forgotten when the next cool project enters my field of vision - and there are so many cool projects to do! The irony of the situation is that when I finally have access to resources that would allow me to undertake these projects, I am without the time to manage them. The task that seems to lie ahead is to bring these two worlds into harmony with one another: 1). meeting the needs of society by being a employed, solvent citizen, and 2). doing whatever I want, whenever I want, with the degree of enthusiasm I think appropriate. This may prove to be an interesting journey.

Conversing with Myself

2005-05-11T20:54:00.000-07:00

After over a month, what can one say?

"A month has passed? Where have I been?"

Well, Mr. Elling, let's see:

You lived with your cousins as they prepared to leave for their cross-country photographic journey. Kari Ann, who for so long had been so far, graciously agreed to share house-sitting duties in their absence. The standard American kitchen became a familiar and welcome change; your bread baking madness was met with the same loving aversion as too much ripe zucchini or fruitcake. As if the ease of a conventional convection oven wasn't enough to satisfy your carbohydrate cravings, you decided to try homebrewing. And what do you have to show for it? A plastic jug slowly passing CO2? Uncomfortable and awkward moments were spent at a large church, though each subsequent entrance became a little easier. You've seen concerts in Seattle and hiked in the Olympic National Park. Something like running was attempted, beginning and ending prematurely. You've eaten Mexican, Thai, and microwaved food, drank beer both good and bad. You've called friends and family, mostly forgetting how to write. A position with the Y maintenance crew was offered and accepted, you learned how to correctly anesthetize the pool, and became acquainted with a number of interesting and dedicated people in the process.

"Sounds good. But...?"

Ah, what have we missed?

Mr. Elling, one can hardly see where they are having forgotten where they have been. While a certain degree of forgetfulness must, in your case, be allowed, there is a reasonable point where it must end. Rare are the moments when thoughts of the past two years enter your mind; perhaps the suddenness of your assimilation to the US is partly to blame, but then would not a conscious effort to remember seem appropriate? Your journal, both public and private, which was maintained with relative diligence throughout your service has seen a precipitous decline in use. Does the absence of internal reflection choke the drive to write, or is it the other way around? And what about this peculiar aversion to sharing your time abroad with those here now? Why do you tense up, assuming a sarcastic and critical air, whenever someone expresses interest in your service? Is that a valid response, regardless of the sincerity of the inquiry? While you have managed to find time in your busy schedule to contact some people, what of those who remain on the list? When will you reopen the lines of communication there?

"It looks like some things need to change."

You may become a detective yet, Elling. Once again you've been handed a mixed bag; how then will you sort things out?

A Week In

2005-04-13T09:17:00.000-07:00

Just eight short days ago my flight from Taiwan landed painlessly in Seattle, WA. The customs process was a breeze - no searches, no complications with baggage, nothing. Aside from forgetting a few directional details related to my pickup (I waited outside, Kari Ann waited inside) everything went as smoothly as could be hoped for.

Already things have moved much more quickly than expected. While I had allowed for time to acclimate to the temperature of spring, the rising of the sun, the pace of traffic, and the peculiar penchant for most Americans to place their trash in the proper receptacle, little thought was given to the situations in which I now find myself. Thankfully enough, none of these situations are unexpected in a negative way. That I may already have a full-time job, money in the bank, and a beautiful place in which to live and work are on the contrary, positively exciting - unexpected things, whether good or bad, both require a bit of getting used to. Rather than dealing immediately with all the crap I had expected, I'm enjoying the newness and possibility of life near loved ones, with activities to edify both mind and body. In many ways I am able to count myself among the lucky.

My mind has continually turned towards the Philippines in this last week. It is difficult to wake from sleep in a soft bed or eat food easily procured without remembering those who lack such comforts. I do not believe that it is my duty to give such things to those who have not, but rather it is to not forget that these conveniences and comforts are privileges, that they are exceptions, and should not be taken for granted. Remembering alone is not enough, but it is a beginning down the path of appropriate action. What appropriate action may be, time and concerted thought will dictate.

As part of my active remembering, I've added a new component to this page. Under the links section, click on Personal Photos to view pictures from the Philippines in general, and at this point, ovens in particular.

So long, and thanks for all the fishes.

Taipei Dispatch

2005-03-31T17:06:00.002-08:00

The flight from Manila to Taipei was short and sweet. Leaving the country had fewer glitches than expected, yet more than appreciated (like the bank who's hours are from 9oo-1330; how very obvious they are). My Manila days were relatively uneventful; a few last minute visits, purchases, affordable movies, and schwarma plates. The days of cheap Mediterranean food have come to a close.

My intention in delaying departure by two weeks was to spend time decompressing, reflecting, and resorting my thoughts before landing on American soil. I've had a hard time deciding if or not my intentions were fully met. Yes, I was able to relax and reflect, in a manner of speaking, but not to the extent planned. Life, it would seem, occurs too fast to adequately process any given experience before flinging the next upon us. We are effectively unable to remove ourselves from the flow of events and view them, understand them, or catalogue them with any pretense of objectivity. Every moment is colored by every moment that follows; coming to any comprehensive conclusions about experience is little more than hyperbole.

This is not to say that one cannot speak about events in their life and experience without meaning or import. Experience simply cannot be understood in a vacuum, sans the context provided by what occured before and after any given moment. My thoughts on the Peace Corps will be affected by these few days in Taiwan, by my emotions the moment I step from the plane in Seattle, and by every moment thereafter (as those moments will in turn be affected by the others that will hopefully follow).

I'm glad that the decision to delay departure from the Philippines was made. For many reasons, most of which I am unable to articulate, returning state-side directly would have been too shocking, too jarring. Being away from home forced me to consider long and hard what it is about America I love, what it is I distrust; my conclusions about those catagories are less important than the overpowering sense that America is home. And yet the place I am most called to be had to wait, for just a little while, before accepting my offer of return. If or not the wait has better prepared me for all that will come, I do not know, but it may soften the blow.

Taipei is a very metropolitan city. This morning it's off to the National Palace Museum. Tomorrow, something else.

The Home Stretch

2005-03-28T00:00:00.000-08:00

After a week out, I'm in. Fresh off the boat. During our mini-vacation a number of previously stated goals were met: 1. read, 2. write, 3. beer. The only thing missing was a hammock; this was quickly replaced by running around Siquijor Island for a week on little pseudo-motorcycles. Driving a motor around, even a pseudo-one, imparts a very distinct sense of freedom; one could argue that you are most free when unencumbered by anything but your feet. Granted: you may be freer, but not as fast.

Strangely enough, I don't feel much like vacationing at the moment. The effort of finding places to stay, transportation, food, and fumbling around in Tagalog have worn me out (and I wasn't even alone in the Process!). It amazes me that, after two or more years in the corps, volunteers have the energy to travel out their readjustment allowance. If I hadn't cultivated a desire to return home and renew the connections therein, perhaps further travel would not seem such a strange desire. The thought of continuing elsewhere than homeward holds little appeal at present.

All that obligation requires of me is to pack my bags, mail a package, and pay the man my terminal fee. Not surprisingly, at this point, that's about all the effort I can muster.

The freshest news state-side is that a job possibility rests on the horizon. The offer remains undefined; at the very least I'll have something to do right away, at the most the position will become full time. This works well on all fronts. I had planned to sign up with a temp agency but it would seem that that step is no longer necessary, at least right away. More on this at a later date.

What's in Store

2005-03-16T17:25:00.000-08:00

As the past few weeks have been more than a little insane I have neglected, sometimes consciously, sometimes not, to lay out my plans. This is due in part to the fact that a dirth of information made plans difficult to make, but also that a disinclination to "figure things out" weighed me down. It seems that now would be a good time to rectify this situation. Clairity is flowing at the moment.

Today I will purchase my ticket home; there will be a short stopover in Taipei to visit a former volunteer studying Chinese there - it will be nice to drop by and see her. March 31st I'll fly from Manila and arrive in Seattle on April 6th. Almost two weeks of unstructured time remain to be spent in the Philippines; that space is slowly taking form. With a few other recently COSed volunteers I will fly to Dumagete City on Negros, visit Siquijor and perhaps Siragao for a brief tour of the southern Visayas/Northern Mindanao. The irony that I lived in an island nation, yet rarely seeing a beach, will be corrected in the next two weeks. Hammocks, books, writing, and cold beer are my only priorities at the moment.

After arriving in Seattle Kari Ann and I will house sit for almost two months. During that time I plan to change residency from Wisconsin to Washington (still eating cheese), look for jobs and housing, and try to adjust to life - or at least learn to live with it. There should be an excursion to Ontario for canoeing in early June. Then comes full fledged Midwest time. Kenosha, Chicago, Holcombe, the Twin Cities will all pass under my feet until sometime in September when mountains, fall micro-brews, and possibly work pulls westward once again. After September things get a little hazy, but this suits me just fine. At this point I need few definites; they will come in time.

I feel good about these plans; solid enough for direction, flexible enough for change.

The Last Straw

2005-03-15T22:47:00.000-08:00

In the waning moments on this last day of service my "description of service" sees completion. Generally I don't procrastinate; in this case I have. The thought of compressing two years of experience - frustration, elation, success, failure, memories, hopes, fears, and rice - into a one page "DOS" drained any energy available for such a task.

There are several reasons for this aversion: 1. we are expected to brag about our accomplishments, 2. it will serve as the only official record of my service retained by the Peace Corps, ad infinitum, and 3. it is the final, incontrovertible, symbol of the end. The end here is more obvious than it was in the goodbye's to the people with whom I have lived and worked for the past two years - the possibility of future contact and the ability to recall and relive lubricates our exit. With the DOS, we write it, have it signed, and the deed is done.

A few moments from now I will cease to be a Peace Corps Volunteer. It's a little like graduating from college or high school, but more final. At this time a gulf of culture and distance a thousand miles wide breaks into a great yawn, even as the future opens up ahead- the sense of vertigo and excitement at the unknown is overwhelming, while nostalgia and sadness for what remains so close intermingle.

And so, my DOS is complete. Every dry, boring, sterile sentence. Nothing of my time is contained within these words; time which these sentences are superficially intended to encompass. I suppose that ultimately this is true for any experience - how can one summarize or edit their moments into a format that does justice to what has occurred? They can't. Thankfully through this process, meaning the whole nine yards, I have learned the value of remembering and of being thankful for what is happening (not only what has passed). All that remains is to bring this home.

My service, in a nutshell:

After a competitive application process stressing applicant skills, adaptability and cross-cultural sensitivity, Peter Elling began Peace Corps training on February 1st, 2003 at Dumadag Farm, Tagbilaran, Bohol and completed a 9 week training program. Trainees in Mr. Elling's sector, Community-based Conservation of Important Biodiversity Areas (CCIBA), received 124 hours of technical training, 104 hours of language training, 7.5 hours of formal cultural sessions, 22 hours of health and personal management training, and 16 hours devoted to safety and security issues. At the end of his training period, Mr. Elling tested at the Intermediate-High level of language functionality in Ilocano.

Peter Elling was enrolled in the Peace Corps on April 5th, 2003. He was assigned to the Provincial Tourism Office (PTO) in Bayombong, Nueva Vizcaya during his service in the Philippines. During his tenure as a PCV, Mr. Elling implemented his own projects in addition to assisting other PCV projects, resulting in a varied volunteer experience.

Mr. Elling offered his skill as an environmental educator during environmental education training/material development sessions with a local NGO (Sang-at Salug Outdoor Club), as well as during two (2) week long youth camp experiences; one occurring in Kadaclan, Mt. Province, and the other in Capisaan, Nueva Vizcaya. Both elementary and high school students attended these camps. Mr. Elling assisted a local NGO (FRENDS) in the procurement of teaching tools and techniques to aid in their watershed-conservation/education efforts; one such watershed management training was presented in Paitan, Bayombong. Mr. Elling guided the PTO in the development of a Project Development and Management training offered to local residents and elected officials of Bayombong.

Mr. Elling instructed local community members how to design, build, and use wood-fired clay ovens. Two such ovens were constructed in Bayombong; two others in St. Fe, Nueva Vizcaya. The ovens in St. Fe were integrated into the schools' curriculum, allowing the 3rd and 4th year high-school students to learn the basics of bread production. Several designs using local materials were utilized in the construction of these ovens; three were built with a simple down draft design ranging 16"-28" in inner diameter, and one with a cross-draft design with an inner diameter of 36".

Mr. Elling taught the basics of theatre, staging, and drama for a high school dance troupe located in St. Fe, Nueva Vizcaya. The dancers have since competed in several local competitions and performed on numerous occasions locally; this program was part of a cultural preservation effort coordinated by the school (the Kalahan Education Foundation) and the local government. Optional basic music appreciation sessions were offered wherein Mr. Elling introduced interested students to jazz, symphonic music, and musical theatre.

Mr. Elling assisted four schools (three high schools and one elementary school) in the painting of large political world maps, equipping local teachers to use these maps throughout their curriculum. Mr. Elling supervised 13-18 year old students as they drew, painted, and labeled the maps in prominent areas of their schools. With Peter's assistance three of these schools were connected with local and international book donating agencies; the schools received textbooks and other teaching materials intended for teacher use while writing their lesson plans.

Pursuant to Section 5(f) of the Peace Corps Act, 22 U.S.C. 2504(f) as amended, any former volunteer employed by the United States Government following his/her Peace Corps Volunteer service is entitled to have any period of satisfactory Peace Corps Volunteer service credited for purposes of retirement, seniority, reduction in force, leave and other privileges based on length of Government service. Peace Corps service shall not be credited toward completion of the probationary or trial period or completion of any service requirement for career appointment.

This is to certify in accordance with Executive Order No. 1103 of April 10, 1963, that Peter Elling served satisfactorily as a Peace Corps Volunteer. His service ended on March 16th, 2005. He is therefore eligible to be appointed as a career-conditional employee in the competitive civil service on a non-competitive basis. This benefit under the Executive Order entitlement extends for a period of one year, except that the employing agency may extend the period for up to three years for a former Volunteer who enters military service, pursues studies at a recognized institution of higher learning or engages in other activities which in the view of the appointing authority warrants extension of the period.

The End.

Worthy Labor

2005-02-27T01:07:00.000-08:00

Two observations.

1. In all the things I have considered doing after my service (photographer, musician, writer, farmer) an element of creativity is at the root of each. I cannot divorce my mind from the need to express something of myself to the world outside.

2. Whenever something strikes me – in music, in literature, in attempting to live an examined life (and seeing the lack of these elements in the lives of others) – an intensely emotional (positive or negative) response ensues. My conscious speaks before I do.

Given these desires and interests I cannot conceive languishing at any labor, given that whatever labor it may be is positive, helpful, and worthy of the effort. Until now what I have undertaken has benefited me directly, but also (I like to think) the world around me. I see no reason to stop this labor of love. Others may read these words and think – youth + idealism = fantasy. This is only the case should you allow it to be so. We live in the world we make, the world we create – I plan to continue engaging the world around me in a consciously creative role: with all the rewards and frustrations therein. To do any less is to admit defeat.

2005-02-22T00:07:00.000-08:00

Some days one doesn't even need to pay attention to learn new things; today for example. I learned all about deed restrictions, subdivisions, and "civic committees". You buy a home (in a subdivision of your choosing), sign along the dotted line (deed restriction), and pay other people to act as your proxy in dealing with neighbors, monitor the length of their lawn, the trees they plant, and if or not their car is an "eye sore" (civic committee). While deed restrictions and subdivisions may have their perks ("clean" neighborhoods) the fact that you pay other people to take over the normal functions of healthy community tilts the scales against them. No thank you, sir. Take your manicured lawn and cedar picket fences born of litigation and injunction - I'll keep my loud neighbors with their cars on blocks and mismatched bushes. I imagine that if we look hard enough the junk-heap where America dumped their downtowns won't be far from the drain field behind such "communities".

In sadder news Hunter S. Thompson committed suicide recently. I suppose he lived too hard and too fast for too long. He was a challenger, and too often we never met the challenge face to face. It is unfortunate that our faults and fantasies will never be scrutinized by the likes of HST again. Perhaps the American Dream will never be found.

2005-02-12T22:44:00.000-08:00

In the Philippines my life has been dominated by two near-diametrically opposed places – town and country. Similarities exist between the town and country but these shared traits are not what strike me day in and out – that space is reserved for their essential differences. The discrepancies require of me either a steeling against, or a relaxing into, every coming and going; both actions require great effort and focus to occur smoothly.

A kind of purgatory exists between town and country, one that moves with the river’s depth. Some days purgatory lies at the head of the dump where bankeros pilot their boats across a wide channel – during dry months it exists wherever my feet first enter the verdant water, beginning the wade across. This is the place where, as each new crop is sown, I watch the forest behind my house burn and the diesel and trash fueled fog of town fades behind (or rears ahead of) me.

Here I watch the bats catch dinner when the sun falls below the mountains. I rarely linger and almost never pass this way during the day; trips to town are the providence of cool mornings, not the afternoon. It is here where I alternately wash the city from my mind and brace myself for the onslaught of noise and discomfort invariably found in town. My mind, like matter, can only occupy one space at one time. By crossing the river I am afforded a long moment to ease between each world; something, without which, I would be loath to move at all.

Town is where my office lies – where the market, mail, and internet may be enjoyed (or cursed, depending on the day). It is where I must go to attend meetings, visit various offices, and develop film. Town is necessary, but it is not pleasant. In town my worst qualities most consistently appear. Impatience, anger, condescension, intransigence – and for these reasons I avoid leaving the barangay. Yet I do come to town often; each time brings challenges so old I am surprised at the intensity and difficulty they present. Never once have I been allowed the luxury of simply moving about my business unmolested; always observed, evaluated, and categorized. This scrutiny has bred a kind of personal hypersensitivity to my obvious differences; in this I have no envy for celebrity, and all respect for privacy.

In town the places I frequent become safe houses. In these places I am known. My preferences noted, remembered, and repeated (a definite example of “white-privilage”), “Tofu today? These bananas/mangos/tomatoes are fresh! Internet? Stamps?” So too are the homes and businesses of friends. In these buildings my name is known and novelty is shed; all other time in town is spent moving between these locations.

The country is, mostly, an extended safe house – a place where I can know and am known. It was not always this way and momentarily reverts with each new place visited or new person encountered. Because fewer people reside in the country I was quickly absorbed into the lives and landscape. Of the fact that I am other there is no doubt and it remains the unbridgeable gap. I could live here a hundred years and would always be other. In relation to my outsider status the difference between here and town is that people have observed, evaluated, and categorized me into their lives – I am no longer novel and require no further superficial study. The constant state of city novelty disallows my assimilation there – here my continued presence has overshadowed my newness and erased it.

And so these two places, and the zone between, have assumed their roles in my life. The necessary evil, the breather, and my comfort zone. These cookie cutter descriptions do not hold or imply the all of anyplace, but represent the rough categories they occupy in my mind. Even in challenge there is beauty, and the preferred location tarnished by unexpected difficulties. Always and everywhere one must remember and appreciate what is positive; and ready themselves for things otherwise.

2005-02-08T17:12:00.000-08:00

In my family there are many traditions. Through-out my service these traditions have provided a ready supply of warm memories; enough to sustain one even during long absences from their source. In an effort to bolster, refresh, and remember (but not replicate) some familial activities, I have resumed a version of our Sunday evening dinner of pancakes or waffles. In many ways this simple meal, like the seasons, provided comfort and context well past my formative years. Even now the sound of batter hitting a hot griddle conjures up images of a slightly frazzled father mumbling about baking soda and sour milk, futilely attempting to manage the pans clattering about the floor.

When others hear of our Sunday night pancakes the general reaction is one of puzzlement, or thinly veiled amusement. What most people don’t realize is that pancakes-for-dinner is an ages old Danish practice. The Danish perfected the art of the pancake after my forefathers discovered fire and iron and have handed down, father to son, recipes in the traditional manner (grunting, chest beating, drinking raw eggs) ever since. The Danish word for pancake is kierkegaard, which literally translated means: a mixture of flour and eggs that questions our very existence.

Though the usual transmission of pancake recipes is from father to son, I have decided that in this case traditions may be modified. As you all know the pancake is the ultimate soul food. Don’t worry, in the absence of a skillet or griddle, your frying pan will serve well enough.

Mix together in a large bowl:

1 ¼ cups yellow cornmeal (check the feed store)
¾ cup all-purpose flour
4-6 tablespoons sugar (depending on your taste)
4 tablespoons dry milk powder
1 ¾ teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon salt

In another bowl, mix together:

1 2/3 cups water (milk in the absence of dry milk powder)
4 tablespoons of unsalted butter, melted (or vegetable oil)
2 large eggs

Pour the wet ingredients over the dry and gently whisk them together, until just combined (over mixing makes tough cakes, old Danish secret). Expect a thin batter.

Lightly oil your griddle, heat, and then sprinkle water on the surface. If it sputters, pour a generous amount of batter onto the skillet (if the water boils, the griddle is not hot enough; if it evaporates, it’s too hot). Wait until the batter bubbles all around, some of them popping, then flip. You can use a spatula if you like; if you’re tough, just flip it with the pan. The pancake will raise slightly as it cooks, needing less than 45 seconds to finish. Eat. Next time I’ll share a tradition from my mother’s side: Saturday afternoon hide tanning.

P.S. A slightly different version of this recipe may be found in the newest edition of The Joy of Cooking.

2005-01-16T02:36:00.000-08:00

My new favorite commercial:

Opening scene: A long table, filled with many family members, some cooking, some setting places, all clearly enjoying themselves. The audience notices that every single food on the table is fried. Fried fish, squid, pig, moose, rat, beetle, goat, blood, ad nauseum.

Second scene: A daughter, home from abroad, gives her mother a hug and proceeds to open a huge jar of beautiful, glistening, gelatinous Lady’s Choice mayonnaise! Mother dips a chubby brown finger deep in the jar and inserts a dollop of mayo onto her tongue, leaving a little drop for the erstwhile daughter to clean up.

Third scene: Everyone in the family grabs the various fried foods, dipping them into huge bowls of mayonnaise, and chomping away to heart attack city. Much laughter and dripping mayo from various family member chins.

Forth scene: A mother/daughter/father hug while daughter dips a fried chicken leg into a bowl of mayonnaise, proceeding to take a large bite. Everyone laughs and seems beyond happy.

Closing frame: Giant jar of Lady’s Choice Mayo, the words “It’s Friedelicious!” writ large under the jar.

Dear God. I love this country.

2005-01-01T22:25:00.000-08:00

Dinner for New Year’s Eve: Chicken Cacciatore and…rice. While people are eager, pushy even, for you to try the local style of cooking (regardless of how often you’ve “tried” them) they are quite reluctant to return the favor. In the end my rendition of the dish was deemed edible, if not salty enough (as there was no MSG present). After dinner, for a treat, we ate pig fat (wat wat) and fried chicken blood and intestines (dinadaraan); these were salty enough.

As the countdown began and reports of lost fingers and shattered ears came in, the air above Bayombong proper exploded with fireworks. The main purpose of Philippine fireworks is to make as much noise as possible; even from 1.5 km away voices needed to be raised to be heard above the din. Via T.V. we watched the Sexbomb dancers perform their tired routines to an unimpressed Roxas Boulevard crowd, ate some fried noodles, and called it a year.

For a moment there I sensed the passing of time as though standing at the edge of an unfathomable depth, and then it too passed. The experience reminded me that while Christmas and New Year’s celebrations may positively focus our energies inwardly and toward one another, to relegate such thought to “special” times is a mistake, or at least misguided. We are every moment presented with opportunities for kindness, compassion, improvement, resolution – and then they pass, making room for the next such moment. Grand and sweeping changes such as those professed, and perhaps intended, in the archetypical New Year’s resolutions are at times appropriate and desirable. But they should not be adopted to exclude, nor replace, the small and myriad ways by which we become better people each day. If we can manage to remember the smallness, the opportunity, of each moment the cumulative effect makes the year brighter.

As such, rather than wishing you the best in the coming year, here’s to the best in each day. Live it up.

2004-12-28T22:55:00.000-08:00

As you probably know the Indonesian tsunamis have been incredibly destructive. Watching the video on CNN and the BBC as well as listening to the radio leave me with the impression that what happened is indescribable. Yoyong seems mild when compared to waves 10 meters tall that reached from Somalia to Malaysia – a further reminder of the awesome and frightening power of the earth. The issues that arise with such an occurrence will require an equally incredible relief effort; 25,000 plus dead – an insane number.

No waves reached the Philippines, as far as I know, sparing these islands on this occasion. Even so, people are worried. In 1991 a major (8 plus on the rictor scale) earthquake hit (the epicenter being in this province, no less) that is still talked about; the Philippines are home to a great deal of geological activity, mostly earthquakes and live volcanoes, in addition to the tropical storms (such as Yoyong). The heartening thing is that those who survive the many “natural disasters” pull together to begin again. People will do so again in response to the current situation.

Christmas has come and gone yet the carolers remain. Bands of children and old ladies, armed with guitars and empty oilcans, roam the street hoping to sing a few pesos out of your pockets. Perhaps this tradition began with the intent of sharing joy over the Christmas season, but it has since devolved into a loud and importuning method of begging; the singing doesn’t stop until you drop the cash. After the New Year I believe caroling will become a cultural faux pas, until next September anyway.

Out of curiosity I did a job search through an on-line engine the other day. No one ever told me just how many crappy jobs are available! I feel very lucky in that my interests and abilities will probably allow me to find a job that is enjoyable and fulfilling. I see no reason to spend time doing something unenjoyable or unfulfilling – and, some may think naively, believe I won’t have too. Being stuck in such a situation is unfathomable for two reasons: one, after service work in a traditional sense will hold a degree of novelty, and two, that money is not the foremost consideration. Feeling connected to the effort, finding pride in the doing, and that the labor be worthwhile are my primary concerns. What I may do won’t be decide until later – probably the Fall – as finishing what’s at hand and coming home are now my twin preoccupations. I have no worries about this “next step”. Time remains for it to work out and I feel confident in both my abilities and experience to help the process along.

Have a safe and happy New Year.

2004-12-21T21:17:00.000-08:00

During the preparations for another world map and in scheduling a meeting with the local Rotary, certain truths have come to light. The most pertinent being that these activities should have been undertaken earlier, perhaps at the very beginning of my service; this is especially true with the Rotary. They have proven both receptive to my ideas and excited to offer help. Had I capitalized on this before it would have a.) given me something concrete to work towards, b.) introduced me to a wider group of motivated people, and c.) possibly provided impetus for project ideas then underway. As for the maps, seeing is believing. When people observe a project that works, or is working, they are more likely to offer their efforts towards other projects. I tried to take on too much too soon, and only realize this now. The lesson? Keep it simple. Keep it small. Keep it attainable. The successes gained through efforts meeting those criteria become the stepping stones of larger endeavors.

In keeping with this observation, I’ll be working over the Christmas weekend to ready some environmental education lessons and games for a mini-workshop. The outdoor club who previously wished to organize a camp realized how much work bringing kids to camp can be (additional factors being cost and liabilities) and have opted for plan B: bring camp to the kids. Over the next few weeks I’ll introduce EE concepts to them through teaching lessons and playing games. This, I think, is the shortest distance between two points. Though my background in EE consists of only one season the materials available to us are easy to follow, once the basics are introduced; I don’t need to be an expert to share. The group is looking to help raise environmental awareness in rural areas and provide tools for turning awareness into action – a day long “camp” session given at a school will be a flexible (and cheap!) way for them to achieve this goal. My cowboy methodology (to the teachers out there) should suffice.

Another early morning rat crunching session today. The Winter Solstice truly is the longest night.

My current reading is The Exploration of the Colorado River and Its Canyons by John Wesley Powell. I find their mettle quite impressive and their locution equally enjoyable. Places and experiences surface in vivid detail rendering to the armchair experience an edge of the excitement the participants must have felt. In degrees the unknown has always tugged upon humanity; the two classes of explorers: those who go and those who read their reports by candlelight. I look forward to being on the water again, though this feeling has beginnings prior to this journal. While I may never fill in a white space on the map, at least what is seen will be new to me.

2004-12-17T22:15:00.000-08:00

2:00 AM. Who is eating cereal? Fumble around for the broken headlamp…it’s here somewhere. Swear. That sound is much too loud to be crunchy cereal, besides, there isn’t any here. Light attempts to flood the room, failing miserably. Stumble out from under the “insecticide impregnated” mosquito net; manage not to tear it down. Cat. What are you doing? Go outside, pee. Crunching resumes. Grab the bit of tail out from under the cabinet, pull. Weak light reveals cat teeth embedded in a field rat’s head. Place the mess outside, firmly close the door, crawl under the blanket, forget to turn off the light.

While I’m not entirely sure how Kurt (named by my neighbor in memory of a former volunteer) came into my possession, though she clearly intends to stay. So long as the rat and roach population is kept in check I’m inclined to allow her free range. It is important to impress upon her that the proper place to eat rat heads is not near mine; I’m still trying to figure out how, exactly, one teaches a cat.

Christmas is approaching, though a Filipino would say that it’s been doing so since the months that end in “-ber” began. It’s strange to see Christmas lights, Santas, and fir tree silhouettes everywhere – totally incongruous with the weather. A lasting impression from the American colonial experiment. If the music blasted from the beds of slow moving pick-ups in the market are right, Rudolph summers in Batanes and mommy still kisses Santa Claus, albeit under a banana leaf. New Year’s fireworks are already echoing off buildings and mountainsides, reporting the imminent loss of digits with their explosive reports.

I feel detached from all the preparations and hubbub, though the feelings will change Christmas Eve. I’ve become something of a veteran of holidays in strange places. While those with whom I would most like to spend the days with are far away, my thoughts turn in their direction bridging the distance. Knowing that the same kindness is extended to me bolsters the sentiment. I do look forward to spending the holidays in my barangay, visiting with those who have made my time here special; a request for baked goods on Christmas day has been made, and I’m happy to oblige.

Last week was spent playing with mud in Malico; their oven is coming along nicely. My next visit should see its completion and indicate if previous experiences translated into a better product. I think it will and am excited to see the results. Imugan has begun preparations for their own oven; given the location it should be even more interesting. They have arranged for an inside placement which requires a chimney to control the smoke. Putting a chimney in an oven changes several factors and requires more thought than the simple design used for the previous two. I look forward to the challenge; even more, I am glad that the interest is high enough to follow through.

I should clarify something: my primary site remains here; Imugan and Malico are simply communities that have latched onto my interests and wish to work together. We plan work days about two weeks apart and thus far have used the time allotted effectively. The difficulty has been making this happen here, in Paitan.

Instructions arrived yesterday indicating how these last two years will, officially, come to a close. Aside from the paper work the process is pretty straightforward. One bit of information caught my eye: the fact that I could close out two weeks to one month early, and am in fact encouraged to do so. I don’t wish to focus on this possibility, when the idea of ending this chapter and beginning the next is such a tempting thought. These thoughts can distract me from my purpose stated earlier: to spend my remaining time, as much as possible, in the pursuit of positive and helpful activities. Building ovens, painting maps, procuring books. I will let things unfold as they will. This is generally the most honest approach, and applies now. It may at times be difficult to remember this, but I will try to so do.

2004-12-07T21:09:00.000-08:00

Yes, typhoon Yoyong was pretty feisty here in Vizcaya, and quite destructive throughout its course in the Philippines. In my barangay homes were inundated by the Magat River, fields and crops destroyed, irrigation canals clogged, and hundreds - thousands perhaps - trees felled. All in all, a natural disaster. While the hurricanes that regularly hit Florida are destructive the citizens of that state are lucky to enjoy the services of a huge corps of volunteers and the national guard - something definitely lacking here. For the first few days after the storm I helped my landlord, Arthur, clean out their home and return sundry possessions from the Day Care Center, to where they had evacuated. People approached the clean up work with resignation, some saying that the storm was sent by God in retribution for their sins - a sad and difficult theology to swallow; little by little things will return to normal.

In fact, things were normal enough the day after the storm that, after the waters had subsided, the sari-sari stores were open and sugarcane gin flowed once again. Given the breadth of change, desiring to sit back and reassess over wine is an understandable course of action.

The greatest amount of work lies in the fields. Rice cannot be planted in a rock filled patty; most of the rock from the roads was washed into the adjacent irrigation ditches and fields creating the bulk of required repair. The first order of business has been to clean the debris from homes and clear the roads; both tasks were accomplished quickly and effectively.

If anyone is interested in sending funds to help provide relief from this latest series of storms (four in less than two weeks), follow the URL listed here:

Operation Blessing International

As for me, all is well. My home was unaffected by the storm, other than branches falling from nearby trees on the roof.

Regarding my previous post: I have followed through on my self-admonition to find positive ways whereby my service may end. Certain efforts have already produced results; others remain promising. I maintain that my previous decision to abandon the water project was the right thing to do, and am happy that other avenues of usefulness have presented themselves.

2004-11-23T18:08:00.000-08:00

A difficult decision has been made. Making this decision, a unilateral withdrawal from the much lamented water project, has been a painful process. I am not able to, in good faith, procure funds for a project that may or may not be realized in the present time frame. Already the “what-ifs” are bubbling to the surface threatening to overturn the fragile line of thought that supports my present convictions, but I am at a loss as to what other options remain.

The most salient consideration has been the unshakeable feeling that this was an idea entirely of my own making, sans the requisite community commitment. While certain members of the community are interested and have, at times, been excited about the idea of constructing a rainwater catchment system for their school, the assurance of greater community involvement is not there. Considering the present circumstances, I do not see how a large scale construction project could be completed in my last two months of service (when the monies may arrive).

The most embarrassing and shaming aspect of this is that I can’t seem to muster the desire to push hard enough to see the project through. This, I fear, is a failing entirely of my own making. Even so I am left with two choices: pushing through a project that has little chance of success (completion) or giving up with the possibility of success, never mind how small, remaining.

Some former volunteers, knowing more in-depth the history of this particular effort, may shake their heads at these words. I don’t know what to say; I couldn’t pull it together.

I’ll attempt not to wallow in regret or self-doubt over this. Other things remain on the horizon that require attention; things that have a much higher likelihood of success. As far as what the community’s perception will be of me regarding the abortive project, I’m not sure. I suspect that people are well used to things not working out and it’s doubtful that it’ll reflect badly upon me, though, to a certain degree, it probably should.

In more exciting news I’ve discovered an effective way to fire my oven (i.e. transfer the energy from burning wood into the oven walls). I poked a small hole opposite the oven door (as it doesn’t have a chimney) to help improve air flow and built the fire around the channel of air the hole created. The effect? I used less wood to heat the oven to baking temperatures and am sure that more heat entered the clay. Why? Well, this time instead of simply baking the first four loaves of bread, the oven burned them to a crisp (the second four came out much better). More heat.

When I was a sophomore or junior in college I had wanted a bread machine; Mom said, “No, you’ll just get fat.” I guess she knew about carbs then. The funny thing is that if I had a bread machine I’d probably not gain as much weight as with this clay oven (bread machines bake one loaf at a time, clay ovens bake 8-12 loaves of bread, two trays of brownies, banana bread, pizza, scones, and whatever else in one sitting). Don’t worry Mom, I ride a bike.

Today I travel to Imugan and Malico; we’ll construct the second layer of Malico’s oven and witness the second performance of Imugan’s dance troupe.

2004-11-03T21:18:00.001-08:00

Well, the results are in. Here then are URLs to the Wisconsin results, in general and by county. Chippewa county is where my ballot was cast, though Rusk is where I grew up. I was pleased with Kerry's response to the issue of Ohio provisional ballots as the possibility of further partisan protraction loomed on the horizon; it was a statesman's move - something decidedly lacking throughout the campaign. It is imprortant to remember that while the President serves as our leader, he remains subject to our will. We retain the right to voice concerns through our elected officials and, if necessary, direct action. We are yet a free nation. Without further ado:

Full Wisconsin Results

Senate Results by County

House Results by County

2004-11-01T23:40:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow, the election.

The plan is to watch CNN, drink beer, smoke cigars, and hurl invectives at the commentators as states are colored blue and red. I think that pink and yellow are much more fetching as colors go, but I'm not in charge of CNN, yet...

Now you know where I'll be on election day, though, more importantly: where will you be?

2004-10-25T23:31:00.000-07:00

Last night saw the first “listening room” in Imugan, I believe, ever. A slightly captive audience and I listened to Miles Davis’ "Kind of Blue". It was a bit disjointed of a presentation as no one attending had ever a.) listened to jazz before, and were therefore had no reference for any significant aspect of the music, instrumentation, or personnel or b.) listened to music in an appreciative or understanding manner, as music is predominately distilled through pop radio. I would say that the interest level in the experiment was about 25% favorable, and 75% ambivalent. I predict that the next several listening rooms will see a precipitous drop in attendance, but also a significant rise in the interest of those attending. This is just fine with me. I’d rather hang out with three or four really interested people than twenty-five “I’m only here ‘cause I have to be’s.”

The supreme upshot of this experience is that my musical muscles are being exercised in a way not seen since college. Actually, this may be even more beneficial as the music and concepts pursued already have a firm foundation upon which a deeper understanding and familiarity is developing. Deepness isn’t something that, I think, is often found in college; it is too tumultuous and varied an experience for that. Necessary yes, but deep, probably not. Currently I’m debating what the next room will cover – probably Jazz more so than Classical at this point. For people who have never used their ears and mind together, Classical may be too far out of reach. As ever, the future remains to be seen.

The oven continues to dry, and to acquire larger and larger cracks in the structure. The folks that came to help me had a hard time slowing down their work style, which has contributed to the formation of large cracks. The proper technique would probably entail layering small amounts of cob (clay, sand, straw, and water mixed) and really pressing them together, rather than slopping on huge globs of the stuff and pounding it. The former ensures that the layers integrate, while the former probably just covers a lot of area quickly. That we used soil from another site for the last two layers probably contributed to the cracks as well (too much clay means the sand doesn’t touch = large cracks). The nice thing about building a mud oven is that when the cracks form, you just stuff some more mud in there, and the problem is solved. These developments all serve a greater purpose as this oven is an experiment – observing what happens to this mud pile will help build a better mud pile the next time around.

The dance group’s performance came off well. They still need work, especially in the “drama” department. While they act well enough, the story just wasn’t very dramatic, and a bit boring. There wasn’t enough time to try and change things before yesterday’s presentation, but there is now.

While waiting for the group to perform the Chief of Police came up to me and asked to take a picture. Having, as a foreigner, your picture taken with strangers isn’t a rare occurrence; in this case, Roy and I were to be recorded as a “distinguished guests” in their log books. Talk about privilege. I’m just glad that along with being a “distinguished guest” (by the perceived virtue contained in our wallets) sitting in the VIP seats at the front of the stage didn’t soon follow. That’s happened before too, and it is definitely not a privilege. Imagine sitting in front of a thousand people, who in all likelihood are paying more attention to you than the performance, for five hours straight. If you’re especially unlucky, you might be asked to sing a song. No thanks.

Happy Birthday Ann.

2004-10-20T20:01:00.000-07:00

Today I’ll be heading to my second site, Imugan Santa Fe, to work with the dance troupe. They will have their first presentation at a cultural fair on Monday and we’ll have two practices together before then. I only head down their way once every two weeks, mostly because it’s not really my site but another volunteer’s. Apparently my Carthage-galvanized musical training has found a use beyond what their current volunteer could provide! The kids are diligent about practicing and are proud of their culture - I imagine that the whole deal will go off rather well.

The guilt associated with my last post is slowly fading as I’ve been able to catch up, somewhat, on correspondence. As I’ve mentioned before, the computer tends to drain me quickly making it difficult at times to keep up with e-mail! Maybe it’s all the noise at the internet cafés that gets me, I don’t remember having the same problem prior to being in the Philippines.

My absentee ballot has come and gone. I’m glad that participation in this years election was so easy – the government run website was simple, gave to you the necessary information, and my county clerk was more than happy to oblige. While I’m mostly sheltered from what’s going on in the current campaign, I have gathered that absentee ballots and new voters are the wild cards in the deck. Yeah. I can’t say if or not other volunteers are voting, but I made sure to take care of my business.

From what I’ve seen in the news and heard through others is that the electorate is fairly evenly divided. Whoever becomes the next president, I can assure you that categorizing the nation as red or blue can’t last, or if it does, it won’t be helpful. Lets be Americans and allow the discourse engendered by democracy flourish, not sequester it behind party lines. How can any president expect to affect positive change, at home and abroad, if he is pigeonholed into one or another category? The president, regardless of party, is our representative – he should stand above party squabbles. I did catch the last debate and the President’s continued “liberal” label was especially unbecoming. I didn’t cast a vote against this President because he’s a Republican, but because he’s represented us poorly.

The oven has finally been finished! I may be able to bake within the month, depending upon when it finally dries. I’m pleased with the result thus far; the result being the amount of learning that occurred during the process. I am sure that the next time one is built, it will be a much better oven. And, the learning hasn’t ended – once I try to bake in it more information will come forth.

November 2nd, y’all.

2004-09-30T00:26:00.000-07:00

Somewhat guiltily I begin this entry as unanswered e-mails pile up in my yahoo account. I'm on the waxing end of an "unfocused" phase in regard to correspondence. Phases pass me by where being in front of the computer or paper is a "natural" thing (meaning, what needs to be finished/written, is finished) and other times where my eyes/mind are simply unable to work in conjunction. Usually, the unfocused phases are not characterized by any sort of melancholy or malaise; it's just that nothing comes to the surface worthy of expression. The other end of the spectrum is that, at times, half-baked or unsupported thoughts run the risk of being either a.) ridiculous, b.) naive, c.) caricature, or d.) detrimental - I would prefer that none of those adjectives are used in association with my name. Thinking out loud can be helpful, but should be done in trusted and patient company. These reasons partly informed my decision to eschew the monthly update in favor of the more freeflowing nature of the blog. Both the reader and the writer are able to exercise a degree of independence and judgement in regard to what is, or is not, useful at a particular time. Currently, it is useful to outline this train of thought.

Other random bits of news; an exercise to shed useless information and return to a more focused stage of mind:

1. Heart of Darkness was certainly a dark novella. Unspeakable rites and practices, madness, stepping to the edge and turning back, all this and more. Honestly, the background information on the story has proved more riveting than the tale itself.

2. Projects, secret and otherwise, creep towards...somewhere. The oven may be fireable this week, the dance troupe has a performance to work towards, and I'll turn in that water project proposal this week. For real. After waiting for so long to finish it, I fear that it may be a rather anti-climatic moment. Will there be fireworks, or a line of people waiting to shake my hand in congratulations? After many false starts, perhaps naive is an apt descriptor of my thought process. It remains to be seen where all this shall end up; somewhere, certainly.

3. Health: sore throat, the first noticable illness since initiating service. Knock on carabao dung that it remains as such.

4. I am feeling more comfortable, more quickly, in the use of an SLR camera than initially expected. This doesn't mean that anything I've done is professional, or good, blahblahblah, but it is more fun. More fun means more pictures, more pictures is like more practice; I don't believe that "practice makes perfect", but it can help. I do enjoy watching people look through the photographs after they are developed. Few people have serviceable cameras - most pictures you see are dark or out of focus; when they see themselves, or someone they know, without those problems, smiles and laughter are soon to follow. That is fun.

5. It's the rainy season again. Why is it so hot?

6. A gentleman from Solano wishes to play "old" songs with me at a local bar. Old means: CSNY, Beatles, et cetera. I like that. Old is good. We can do old.

2004-09-06T01:03:00.000-07:00

It looked like rain today, and thus I decided to leave off the world-map gig and began the day at home. This entailed reading a bit further in Joseph Conrad’s caricature Heart of Darkness, writing a letter, cleaning the bike, and playing guitar. I’ve been practicing more of late, something that has been a great boon for many reasons. Usually I just play the tunes that I’ve written, but there is great satisfaction derived from playing this or that phrase correctly, and well, of another. "Heart of Darkness" is quite the read. V.S. Naipaul referred to it constantly in his writings on Africa, and for that reason I decided to pick it up. It seems appropriate to read about the deep end of “trade” in Leopold II’s Congo, while living in a former colony. Further thought as to how often the lofty talk of fireside conferences fall prey to the baser desires of man. While the story is fiction, given the epoch it refers too, the line between fiction and reality is blurry. I have yet to reach its conclusion; the language too is eloquent and evocative – the darkness described is palpable.

Yet, as the day wore on it quickly became apparent that the afternoon would be ideal painting weather. Well, there’s nothing else to do as I’m here in town and the map is there on the mountain. Perhaps tomorrow will yield a beautiful day from the start and no question as to go or not will remain. The map’s completion has been delayed consistently by rain – today I didn’t wish to hike two hours only to work for one. In any event, things that I wanted to do have been done, and this has been good. Mostly it’s been nice to take it easy; my body seems to have returned to normal after visiting home, and a slow morning allowed me to relish this fact.

The construction of the bread oven began last week, and may be completed this Saturday. With promises of food and beer (mind you, not enough to adversely affect the oven’s final form) I’ve enticed several folks to work and, if I ready most things this week, we’ll be well on the way. Interest has been expressed in constructing other ovens. Of course, at the onset this always happens. I figure, build this one, bake bread for those interested parties, then we’ll see. If interest is still high, let’s do it! This project fills a deep need of mine to create and sustain positive change – change, at this point that is basically individual. If I can help give that to others as well…then my purpose here lies fulfilled. Freedom is most easily found in the things that one can do for one’s self; if it is something as simple as a loaf of bread, that then is freedom.

Now to the post office, market, so on and so forth. I have a few tomato and cucumber shoots in the garden to boast of…this too is freedom! Let freedom ring!

2004-08-15T01:05:00.000-07:00

As I move back into life here, taking in my surroundings and catching up on what I’ve missed, the paths that lead to safety and those to the mire of overextension are obvious. Upon entering the third trimester of service one must think about what can reasonably be concluded, or risk broken promises and more than a fair share of guilt (what is a reasonable amount of guilt remains for another discussion). My eyes, in general, are bigger than my stomach; the challenge has always been to not overreach. Usually I’ve been able to manage pretty well – this, however, is a completely different situation even after 18 months! The measure of what can or cannot be done is very different while volunteering. It is too easy to see and hear all that needs to be done and develop all sorts of plans. So much depends upon the people with whom you work, the place in which you work, and the things that are needed – some are easily implemented in one place while difficult in another. Given ample time most things are possible; at this point, time slips by like a river in flood: quickly at a high volume.

I feel fairly confident that the completion of our main project, namely the construction of two rainwater catchment tanks, is an attainable goal. This is a very good place to be after facing so much uncertainty. Part of this newfound certitude rests upon trust, and not numbers; I have discovered that sometimes this is the only option for forward movement (though not necessarily acceptable in all cases). This week will see the final draft of the grant proposal, the tying up of some loose ends, and shipping the mess off to the funding agency. That there are groups willing to give of their excess to those with a deficiency is extremely helpful.

The thought that so little money can accomplish so much outside of the States raises difficult questions as to Why? Why and How? In discovering the manner by which money can circulate throughout the world, and how wealth is often acquired by those-who-need-least from those-who-need-most, I find myself considering how to manage my own (or at the moment, what passes through my hands). That the acquisition of money is not the key to a fulfilled life should be an obvious truth, though contrary to our consumer ethos - other things are much more valuable. That money does grease the wheels, and that those who find themselves without are often locked in dire straits cannot be, nor should be denied. But these are not reasons to follow our American hubris of “more is always better.” Along with wealth comes the responsibility to use or invest it wisely. What better investment can there be than the betterment of humanity? To find ways to extend the fortune we have been afforded in a personally comfortable way to others? I hope that wherever I live, with whatever wealth I am gifted, I will find ways to share it as well as possible. Thankfully there are many worthy organizations, missions, and projects that can facilitate this basic effort (and those that don’t – check before you give!). The effort of turning wealth, over and above what is needed for the individual and family to live reasonably, into opportunity and compassion for those without. Americans are, by most measures, a charitable people. I think we can and must do more.

I recently finished reading Build Your Own Earth Oven by Kiko Denzen. Note the imperitive nature of the title. My plan is to do just that (this seems a reasonable undertaking), and further to explore the possibility of building permanent structures with cob (a clay, sand, and straw mixture) and other less invasive/extractive materials. These options are increasingly attractive, especially when the negative effects of overused resources upon the land are so glaringly obvious. See above: living reasonably. There are a lot of us here. Managing our consumption wisely, on an individual level, is quickly becoming a moral imperative. I imagine that before too long there choice to conserve or not will no longer be available.

As an addendum to the previous paragraph: wise usage does not mean no usage. It means just what it says, wise usage. Wisdom in this area is something of which we are in short popular supply.

2004-08-01T20:42:00.000-07:00

Here we are, an entire month gone by and not a single entry! Sigh. Good intentions often fall to the wayside when confronted with a busy schedule; this month in America being no exception. Despite the schedule, overtired body, and unrealized visits, it has been wonderful. Bittersweet in some ways yes, but this sentiment was not unexpected. And tomorrow, the return.

Flying into the Pacific Northwest felt so good. Rainer, the Olympics, the Sound. It was almost more of a homecoming than actually being in Wisconsin. Don't get me wrong, the Midwest will always be "home", but this place calls me in a way that cornfields and bratwurst cannot. The fact that I know a crazy Dutchman down the road who is always willing to sell me bratwurst has no bearing on this feeling whatsoever. Cousins Sue and Roy were happy to house me for the duration of my stay, despite its intermittent nature, which was greatly appreciated. Hopefully they felt less like chauffeurs than they appeared to be. Four round trips to the airport – I will return the favor someday.

The highlight of being here on the Peninsula was, certainly, seeing Kari Ann. Just like her time in the Philippines all those months ago solidified our standing together, observing her at Camp Seymour, around town, here, has provided memories and a perspective that could not be obtained otherwise. I know now what Glen Cove looks like, where she stays, the shops she likes, et cetera. Distance in a relationship is hard but is made much more manageable by connections, however brief, that create common ground and understanding - this month has been marked by such important connections. I cannot express how thankful I am for these opportunities. What is left to do but smile?

And then it happened. The great Midwest. The effects of distance upon relationships is not relegated to the romantic realm. Purely platonic friendships suffer in similar ways. Reconnection is needed to maintain their health too. It was special to take part in Mike and Leah's wedding and to see all I did in the greater Kenosha area. There was not enough time to do everything, but I am satisfied with what occurred. The sameness of Kenosha in my absence was not surprising as much as comforting. What an important humbling experience, to discover that life goes on without you!

I also had a nice visit with Kari Ann's folks in McHenry. This seems to mark a significant point in our relationship (though Kari passed this mark last Christmas) that two sets of family are accessible, acknowledged, and welcomed. When Kari Ann visited my folks over Christmas of last year made me to feel present, even in absentia. Her solo visit made the holiday season much easier to bear than it would have been otherwise. I think that Ms. Weichle felt something of that this July, and I’m happy to have been. It's a good feeling. Yeah!

Then it was up to Holcombe, WI. My parents had moved from my childhood home just before I left 18 months ago – and the lake house is nice. It is a good thing that they should have a place uniquely theirs. I've worked hard to keep from storing much of mine there (aside from the guitars which would suffer needlessly in storage elsewhere) and not infringe upon their space; I feel largely successful in this. Kari Ann spent a few days on the lake (thank you again Grandma Pieper!) and we attended the wedding of my cousin Sonja. While at my parents I did quite a bit of baking, cookies, granola, bread, to the consternation of those required to eat the results. The complaint, hopefully, had more to do with the heat than my culinary skills.

On the flight out of Minneapolis my mom and sister cried only a little. Saying goodbye has been much easier this time around, at least for me – there are not so many unknowns. (These are not the unknown unknowns of Rumsfeldian lore.) Even so when I talked to the folks on the phone just before beginning this I cried; but only a little! (Not to negate the emotional import of these most recent tears, but, I also cried during the third Matrix installment when Neo was blinded forcing Trinity to fly the ship…anyway.)

Oh dear. I just realized that not once during the two weeks spent in the Midwest did a cheese curd pass my lips. For this offence I'm sure that excommunication from the cheesehead church is in order...forgive me! I sin out of ignorance and not intent! How strange – apparently cheese no longer runs through my veins.

And the culmination of America time finds me once again in the Northwest. How appropriate is this exit – it’s meant to be. We flew from Seattle on the original trip to the Philippines, and again I leave from here. To the uncertainties and challenges of my Philippine existence do I return. This time though, it’s different. I stand renewed, hopefully a bit wiser, and with momentum. Thanks to all who made time and space for me on this run; it meant the world. I look forward to sharing time together again. Adios.

2004-06-28T22:08:00.000-07:00

Travel to Manila yesterday was blessedly painless. Usually something unpleasant happens (sick seat mates, catcalls from drunken men) but not on this occasion. It was off the trike, on the bus, in the jeep, out the shower, to the restaurant. Wonderful.

I am as satisfied with the state of things as I can be. There's not enough time for "could have beens" and "maybe I should haves". What's done is done. I'll deal with it upon the return.

My flight leaves in two days. Whoa.

Finished Midnight's Children. Awesome.

Heavy bags, bad food, and strange hours await me over the next few days. I resist the urge to hum "Coming to America".

2004-06-23T23:31:00.000-07:00

Thankfully some Filipinos have a sense of humor similar to my own, otherwise we’d all be in trouble. Weeks ago I had fermented a jug of pineapple hooch only getting around to sharing it last evening (this batch ended up sour, too). When surrounded by Ilocano speakers I am usually content to simply listen to the talk around me (contrary to my attitude with English). While watching with my ears, the conversation eventually turned into an exchange of Ilocano puns. They were funny enough (the ones I understood in any case), though I’m sure that the English equivalents could measure success in attrition won laughs and rolled eyes. That a good half of the puns incorporated English and Tagalog words, not only Ilocano, is a testament to the polyglottous nature of this island nation.

Let’s attempt a simple transliteration: The English words “spade” and “speed” have similar sounds which are greatly enhanced depending upon your pronunciation. So, what then does “spade” mean to an Ilocano? A fast shovel (Napartak ti palla). Ho. He. Ho, ouch my side! I’m thankful to find fodder for rolled eyes and grudging laughs. Why? Bad humor has thus been validated and vindicated, by virtue of the newfound cross-cultural truth of funny unfunniness, from all groans and cries weak jokes have ever received! I count myself among the newly justified and righteous adherents of slapstick comedy and indecipherable smiles. Don’t understand? You haven’t yet been indoctrinated.

(I will say that a darker undercurrent of humor exists…the kind that laughs when someone falls off a jeepney or what not. These laughs are not sanctioned by the church of funny unfunniness; do not be mislead. Those programs of videotaped mishaps and accidents could garner quite a following in the barrio…)

The Summer Solstice, the longest day of the year, passed by three days ago (the internet has been unavailable from that time up till now…). The sun has been rising at 5:30 AM and setting around 6:30 PM, and for the last month I have enjoyed the longer days. The sunsets have been especially pretty as of late – all sorts of oranges and reds, bouncing off the corrugated rooftops, making even the river stand still (last night the river reflected a solitary patch of icy blue back to the sky, offset by the black of the riverbed). The sky to the northeast often brings intimations of rain, while the southwest sits awash in layered clouds.

The evening is my favorite time of the day. I love the bats catching bugs against the darkening sky (though the enjoyment eludes me while they fly into eyes while riding bike…) and the mountains falling into shadow. All things seem to slow down, take on a more leisurely tone, soften, blend until eventually the darkness equalizes everything. I find morning to be the polar opposite – the day sharpens people and events until anonymity is gone, everything is plain, mystery is lost. Maybe sleep lessens my ability to welcome the break of the day – as it stands, I’ll stick with the night.

Projects. There isn’t much to report here – for every step forward it seems that two are taken backwards. This can’t go on ad infinitum, but there is little evidence of the trend reversing. Even by telling community members of my “vacation” a noticeable change in attitude or effort has not been effected. That statement was not completely true. Through the lens of frustration and disappointment it is often difficult to see the glass as half full. Certain folks have been incredibly helpful and as befuddled as I at our apparent difficulties – when not everyone is on board, it is difficult to accomplish tasks.

Current Reading: The Freedom of the Hills by the Mountaineers and Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie. It’s a bit strange to read about mountain climbing, crampons, and crevasse
rescue technique when there isn’t a snowflake in sight (sightings have been reported, but remain unsubstantiated), but that’s what I’m doing! Two years away from snow is quite enough, this is for sure.

Salman Rushdie can write. His characters are incredibly lucid and real – I’ve found myself thinking of them as actual people rather than inhabitants of an imaginary world. His narrative is also quite striking, moving throughout temporal boundaries like air, making connections between characters and events that weave through time in quite unexpected and surprising ways. The protagonist, Saleem Sinai, fluidly shifts between hero and anti-hero being in turns pitiful, acquiescent, beautiful, and ugly. His sensitive and volatile nature is meant to reflect the contradictory forces and desires that wage war within us all. There are times where Sinai waxes Whitman (“To understand me, you must swallow the world”) and wanes self-recrimination (as he claims responsibility for the death of Nehru). Terribly imaginative and original – story of the 1001 gifted children born on the eve of partition between India and Pakistan; and their purpose? To fail.

GMA is president, but voices are already being raised in opposition. Better luck next time, FPJ – then again, maybe this was all part of the script...

2004-06-08T00:42:00.000-07:00

It’s amazing how easily and completely one event can envelop your world. Things that have not yet occurred tend to preoccupy me, rather than things that have already happened. I vacillate between acceptance (“This is how I am!”) and frustration (“Why am I like this?”) when faced with this fact. Despite the cliché of “the moment”, something important and valuable is contained therein. Those who have access to it avoid (or seem to do so at least) the dangerous narrowing of focus that plagues people who cannot divorce themselves from either the future or the past. Thinking about the future or the past is not a necessarily negative activity, but viewing them to the exclusion of the rest of reality is. At the moment I’m swinging frustration at the future like a bat.

I had hoped to set things in motion prior to July so that upon returning, we’d be ready to rock and roll. In doing this I neglected to account for many factors which has resulted in rescheduling, surprise attacks by the accounting fairy (who says, “Oh! That grant is no longer available. I guess you’re SOL!”), and a general shrugging of the shoulders. What a lesson: no amount of desire or planning can push, pull, or confuse people into going where they don’t want to go. The time has to be right, and if the time isn’t right, you wait until it is.

Watching the days slip by last March was a bit like lazing in a canoe on a reservoir – no particular hurry; might as well relax and read a book. Apparently, the canoe has now sprung a leak and is racing towards a cataract below the dam’s burst wall – at least it’s a little more exciting! Of the several things on the to do list (project proposal, world map, mud oven, chicken coop, watershed management workshop, so on and so forth) perhaps one will run the gamut and survive. Melodrama. I keep hoping that a deus ex machina waits to rescue me still - I will ride an airplane soon enough…

In less dramatic news: I’ve been practicing the songs that Mike and Leah would like me to play for their wedding. The music is coming along, which is good. Typhoons continue to keep the weather cooler, and the rain turns everything such a lovely, deep shade of green. The fact that the river between the barangay and central Bayombong has swelled to four times its normal size makes things more interesting (and gave birth to the canoe above…). It is always something to wade through a dump on the commute to “work”.

2004-05-25T23:13:00.000-07:00

The headline on CNN.com today said "Sources: Major Terror Attack Possible This Summer". The story goes on to speculate that an attack could occur on the fourth, before elections, or at any other of the sundry gatherings occurring in America from now ad infinitum. Such is the band-aid that Americans have accepted – the illusion that there will be a return to “normalcy”. I find the assertion that life will (or should) continue on as before dubious at best. Nope. We are nearing a watershed; things are changing and will change further, whether we like it or not.

A more valuable question than "When and where will the next terrorist action occur?" may be, "How are our current activities reinforcing and creating sympathies for terrorists and their causes?" A focus on the former precludes self-examination, a process that is as important to the health of a nation as it is for an individual. The truth of the matter is that we, Americans, do not exist in a vacuum. People have opinions of us, perhaps influenced more by television than actual interaction, but opinions (with corresponding emotions) nonetheless. What people have seen over the last two years has not done much to further the image of Americans as a moral, trustworthy people. This, in the last few weeks, has become increasingly apparent.

Humbleness has been an acknowledged virtue from time immemorial. The value of humbleness is lost only to the detriment of those stubborn individuals who harbor its antonym: pride. So too follows the fate of nations. Humbleness does not mean bowing out in the face of danger, but it does recognize that rights do not spring forth, in any stage of development, from the heads of wrongs. Neither does humbleness need to justify its paths by its results. Neither does it need to go about its business in secret.

Posting notices of possible terrorist attack circumvents the real issues facing us today and glosses over a deeper need. How we conduct ourselves in the world, now as always, will affect how our neighbors choose to interact with us. We seem to have taken a wrong turn - correcting such a mistake is much better option than blindly forging ahead.

2004-05-18T01:35:00.000-07:00

It’s done. The tickets for my return to the States, graciously donated by Grandma Pieper, are all set. Today I purchased the domestic tickets from Travelocity (Though reluctantly, online airfare outlets always frighten me; “This ticket is NONREFUNDABLE, so don’t SCREW THIS UP!” “Are you sure you want to buy this? Wait a few more days, it might be cheaper…” “Click here to read all forty pages of conditions.” “Fax your signature in blood to the following number...”). Even though I won’t be getting on a plane for another six weeks, my heart is palpitating as though it’s tomorrow and no more clean underwear resides in my closet. I’m sweating bullets.

If this is the first that you’ve heard of my “vacation” in the States, it’s probably because I haven’t made any incredible effort to disseminate the news. I’m not sure why, but the whole process has been approached with a certain degree of trepidation on my part. Things are going to be weird. Questions will be asked, and answers expected. Playing dumb won’t cut it. To boot, it isn’t as though this has taken me by surprise (the international flights were nailed down last February) so there’s no excuse there.

“Peter, so, what have you been doing for the last year and a half?”
“Do you act as a respectable ambassador for the United States?”
“Is everyone poor?”
“That’s how my taxpayer’s dollars are spent?”
“What do the bathrooms look like?”
“Where is the Philippines? Do people wear fig leaves?”
“Why are you still so white? Damn!”

I’m sure there are perfectly good explanations for all of these questions, save the last.

Uncertainty about function and place has become chronic. The moment I think it’s all figured out, something changes. It was an important step to sit at home and considered what two years in a strange country would be like, to intellectually face the difficulties, and yet quite another to be here. What happened to all the wonderful ideas that foundered? Where have these infinitesimal steps taken me? And then to be expected to have constructive, reasoned things to say about it (or even worse, something to show for it!)? I’m not so concerned that people will not be satisfied if certain questions are difficult to answer – perhaps I would be suspect if it was all already worked out! Personal dissatisfaction is what concerns me - not just in the description of the thing, but the thing itself. Being frustrated with oneself is not an easy situation to resolve; it takes time. Resolution will not arrive before July, regardless of the meantime activities.

This is not to say that talking about the last year is a subject to be avoided! On the contrary, I hope that by facing these confused and complicated issues some sense can be made. Resolution, to whatever degree, can occur; at the very least, a renewed sense of purpose may be found. No matter how much one loves their job or hobby, a recharge is necessary from time to time. Over all, that is the function I see this homecoming as serving. Renewal. To be with the people who have mattered so much for so long, but who have been physically distant for the last 16 months. That is what I’m really looking forward to, with no reservations. That, and cheese curds.

Even with my heavy sweat, I’m relieved to have finished one more piece of the puzzle – the picture just became that much clearer.

2004-05-09T23:00:00.000-07:00

The weather continues to be silly hot. The heat is only exacerbated by the fact that my spring has dried up for the summer. The summer that started three months ago and won't end for three more. It's not so bad really, I've learned how to bathe, wash clothes, and cook rice (in that order) with a coffee cup full of water. I figure that the dirt in the rice helps clean my teeth too, though that hypothesis has not been scientifically proven.

I think that I may have heard I Will Survive for the one millionth time today - exactly. If videoke in the home and bar wasn't enough, then videoke game shows certainly are. The best part is that the people who sing on TV are no better than the drunk guys in the corner bar - it's about feeling, not singing prowess. Total Eclipse of the Heart, I Will Survive, and Two Less Lonely People in the World are the most popular songs against which to test one's mettle. I prefer the classics Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and Bah Bah Black Sheep whenever I'm on the mic. I used to try the Eric Clapton and Allman Brother's tunes hidden away in the dark recesses of the machine, but children's songs have proven to be the crowd pleasers. I'm an entertainer, what can I say?

In that regard, I've been toying with the idea of recording a six or eight song CD while here. There are several recording studios nearby, and the process would be considerably cheaper (5-10 USD), as compared with studio time in the states (insert ridiculous amount here _______). The only thing that gives me pause is the instrument - it isn't exactly up to snuff and I would like to end up with a decent product. Paying full price for a brand new guitar isn't an option and requesting one from home isn't practical. Perhaps I could rent an instrument for the duration of the recording? It's exciting to think about in any case; the idea of being home with a decent demo of my most recent stuff in hand is appealing. Since playing out is something that I want to do having a representative recording would help move the process along.

Today the Philippines takes to the polls, and it's possible that it'll end up California style. Fernado Poe, Jr. (or FPJ) is the main contender against the incumbent, GMA. I rather doubt that his presidency would bode well for the country (any more than GMA's?) - he has no experience in politics, has less than a high school education, hasn't made many firm stands on how he will tackle tough issues (corruption in the government, overpopulation, poverty, pollution, terrorism, et cetera), and seems to be running primarily on the popularity of his movies. At least Arnie had a few ideas about how he would do things and would field questions. Besides, how could you not trust the Terminator?

I've been reading V.S. Naipaul's The Writer and the World for the past week or so. At first I was interested, but have now grown a little tired. Naipaul's tendency to over generalize and make vague connections between former colonial lands has been heavy handed throughout the essays; this was not so noticeable in the larger subject matter of Among the Believers, though broad generalizations about Islam were present there too. In the one essay that I did enjoy, "Michael X and the Black Power Killings of Trinidad", he approached the story like a story, laying back on his social commentary. Perhaps it came out so well since he's from Trinidad. He's well read and well traveled. For Naipaul, these pursuits have brought the world's disparities to the fore; he picks and chooses those which he most wants to see.

2004-05-01T03:40:00.000-07:00

It’s hot. So hot that the coconut quietly resting (napping, no doubt) on the outside table cracked, spilling its water everywhere. I was planning to make milk from the meat for this or that dinner but crying wasn’t an option (making fresh coconut milk is a thoroughly enjoyable process – and when the milk turns out well one has every right to feel proud). The nearby spring’s flow has diminished even as the average temperature rises, and I wouldn’t want to be accused of wasting water. So, after munching on mature coconut flesh for lunch it became apparent that a trip to poblacion was in order. It was just too hot to sit in that metal coffin of a house any longer.

It’s been three months, give or take, since the last monthly update. While it was good to write once a month the inevitable occurred – it became a chore, one more difficult to perform with each installment. There were several reasons for that (one of which was not a loss of desire to share this experience, somehow, with you). One, the end of the month doesn’t necessarily correlate with an occurrence of import or interest, two, I never actually asked if anyone wanted to receive them, and three, increasingly more difficult issues with development, politics, et cetera were/are swirling around my brain making it hard to maintain an accurate portrayal of my psyche/life – both internally and externally. The last letter I tried to type was decidedly negative, though my feelings were not fully lodged on that end of the spectrum – it just so happened that the thoughts then entertained required, uhm, less than sunny language. Negative thoughts need to be aired; unfortunately I found the context of the monthly update too uncomfortable to proceed. So I stopped.

Here we are now. After much thought on how to continue, I decided that this format, i.e. blog, would be a more appropriate medium to voice my thoughts and opinions with interested persons. The weblog seems infinitely more flexible and adaptable to both the environment in which I live and the types of things worth talking about - that is terribly important. I can update the page from any computer with Internet access – meaning, no longer do I have to prearrange access to my office (this will hopefully allow the creative juices to flow making for a less clinical and sterile reading experience). You can visit at your leisure, read what you want, and leave without having to download files or anything else (especially if my updates were arriving unwanted – finally, guilt free!). My ambition is to write something every other week or so, as the muse dictates or my mom requests.

I’d like to have a picture component to this page at some point, and am still exploring options. If anything changes, this’ll be the place to find out. For now, text only is fine – I’ll just have to try and paint pictures with words. Here, we’ll give it a shot: the sky, the color of troubled ocean, outlines the diminutive frame of an old man – possibly older than dirt. He may actually be dirt, it’s hard to tell due to the cracks and fissures etched into the heels of his feet, canyon-like in their own right, big toes pigeon-toed until parallel with his nipples from never wearing shoes. Despite the heat his cloths are decidedly mountain – torn jeans, dusty from passing trucks, and a “Pantera” shirt covered by a second hand flannel. This strange marriage between Seattle and Texas is not often seen outside the US - I feel lucky. Obviously, the Pantera shirt was purchased at a concert. His eyes, bloodshot by age and alcohol, are squinting slits as he proudly displays teeth to make a dentist faint – “Yes!” he says as I pass by on a bike, “Always and forever!” Yup. Always and forever.