More than twenty years have passed. A period of time, long enough to keep a diary of funny bone-tickling thoughts. A fabric of episodes for a Pinoy expat continually adapting to the nuances of a language. Surprisingly, he sails with an American driver’s license. Living with American job skills but in the mold of a culture left behind. There is no stopping the memory of the humor that comes with being an expat for a decade or two.
Am I dyslexic?
I grew up using the vernacular Pinoy to point out directions. Most of the time, the sun is my compass. But what happens when the sun rises? The house faces west through the courtyard. I have arranged my position here. It’s driving that makes you laugh most of the time. Afraid of driving on the highways, I skirt the back roads where the driving exceeds my speed limit. Driving down the main streets with lights directing my time to work is easy, huh? When the road is straight and it is the back roads, I see a procession of cars behind me. When they finally pass my lane, I hear the honking of horns and voices follow. I do not understand; They sound like loud jargon! And I don’t yell at him. Americans don’t make eye contact. They are not confrontational. So I stand still, paying attention to my driving, I pray that I will soon get to where I am going on time. Yes, I need to be an aggressive driver!
Where is my GPS?
I finally managed to get the scammers off the road out of my way. My written instructions work better than a GPS. When he is silent, I fear that I am totally lost in the ways I least take. I knew I flipped through my google maps (boss says mapping is outdated), but for me, it works, I’m a bookworm! With my index finger, I keep playing until I know what McDo or Walmart happened on my standard record. Then the driving goes smoothly. I realized I needed an update for my Apple iPad mini (boss is jealous!). The new version has a built-in GPS (they said that Samsung committed intellectual hacking, who was the first back then?). Both the cartography and the GPS must be updated; They can’t seem to meet my needs on the go!
To each his own
I have never been friends with my dishwasher until recently. It had caused the most laughs as far as I can remember. From oozing soap suds (wrong TIDE soap used) to strange noise (silverware got into the spinning wheel and is struggling on its own to function). Sometimes its use is a confirmation that I will never be able to have it. The wash becomes cloudy. Many times I would see the same silverware that I had just washed in the sink (4-6 of them). The head of the house couldn’t have used so much in such a short time! Then, when the speech is light (see that it is not confrontational (again), it knows when to reach the tiger when it is meek!), I would say by way of comment what I did with the dishwasher. He would be silent again. Deep down I cringed. After all these years, I have never mastered silver washing the right way. It’s not a big deal, I wash them by hand, especially when I’m in a hurry. My dumbest laughs come when my cousins are around. Courteous, they take care of the dish washing, but they always complain that there is too much in there, they can’t wash! Hey, whether I leave it full or empty is none of your business, it’s my dishwasher and dryer!
The Gourmet is going to cook
I am addicted to the Food Channel. I could do a sweep with my X-Men radar when Rachael Ray is in that big tube making her 30 minute meals. Andrew Zimmerman picks up a scorpion on the outskirts of Malaysia. Then it’s ready to soak in a vinaigrette poured with a thousand loads of spices; He doesn’t pinch! Yes, I know I am with him on most of BIZARRE FOOD FINDS. I never took notes on the food that I seem to like to make. You see, I want original recipes. If I like what I see, I would move it and still lean like it was mine. Everybody does that. My friend modified my recipe and posted it as her own after including me in her FB contacts. Can I fight with a newly found family member? But again, when writing needs to level up, I hate data scaling. Without fail, the theme speaks of my victories; I can go on and on and be nice to my keyboards. Treating a cookbook is a no, no for me. I would buy one and let it sit in my kitchen to display. The head of the house makes fun of how I can cook without one. If I made the same dish over and over, wouldn’t I have memorized it after the second, third try? I don’t need a kitchen Bible to perfect it. Repetition is the master of perfection!
I could go on and on, and laughter takes over me. Put up with my boos because the Pinoy in me is still me!