Cookee's Genesis

On the 1st Day…

March 31, Monday. I was brought to the airport by my parents, Kristine and Peppermint. Huddled in a circle, arms around each other, heads bowed down – Papa, Mama, Kristine, and I (Peppermint was watching from the car window), prayed outside the departure driveway, and, I was off to Guyana. On the first day, God created a volunteer.

Manila-Seoul (ETD 1315, ETA 1805): Slowing down, I rested from the adrenalin rush that's been flooding my system the past 2 weeks – preparing, packing, participating in the last VSO pre-departure training, packing some more. So I slept most of the almost four-hour flight.

Bibimbap on Korean Air is nothing like the Bibimbap I order in Kitaro. I'll miss the countless fast food joints to choose from in Manila. I didn't know Korea was one hour ahead of Manila time; New Zealand was the only country I knew of that celebrated the New Year before Manila, before the rest of the world for that matter.

Seoul-New York (ETD 1930): "What have I done?" It hit me. I'm going to South America.

Watching Nanny Diaries – 'What could be safer?' I thought. It's a light, non-thinking film, and there were no signs of panic. But, nooooo. 'Round the part when Annie, the lead played by Scarlet Johansen, was about to leave Grover (her ward)…I couldn't stop the steady flow of tears that I didn't even notice started running down my cheeks until my glasses got foggy. Reminds me of the time I was in a not-too-good a place and watched Toy Story 2 with my nephews – again, thinking 'what could be safer than a Disney movie to keep the sorrow at bay?' – then, Sarah McLachlan snaked a heartbreak song through a friggin' cowgirl doll's persona! Geez. Why or how she managed to convince Disney that "When She Loved Me" is fitting for a cartoon, I'll never know.

Anyway, I digress, sorry. Truth is, it wasn't just towards the ending of Nanny Diaries (predictable as it was) that I was crying. For no particular reason related to the movie, it dawned on me that I was on a plane! Perhaps it was just 'coz my brain's gathered enough strength to deal with the shock, but whatever the reason, I couldn't shake whatever it was that was making me cry. I guess mostly it's just a lot of anxiety – the fear of the unknown, the realization of what I've done, the family and friends I've left behind, Peppermint (and, ok, Oz as well ;) ), the comfort zone so out of reach...blah blah blah blah blah.

Those of you who were with me my last few weeks in Manila, and even those of you who just know me perfectly well, know the extent of my 'Planning Matrix' (and I'm proud to say, I got most of the things to do checked off my list). I really didn't have that much time to dwell on the things I'd miss, nor the gravity of change that I willingly allowed myself to be pulled toward. I don't know if I can explain fully, how it feels exactly. I'm not just migrating; I'm not just changing jobs; I'm not just traveling…I'm going off to a country I'd never even heard of prior to being offered this placement; I'm going off to work as a volunteer expected to adjust to an employer I've never met, adapt to a culture I've never heard of, perform in an issue I've never worked in, survive on an allowance with no recourse of selling laptop bags (Hee!); I'm going off for TWO YEARS.

I get an extra 12 hours to my first day 'coz of the time difference. Still March 31. The other half of my nearly 14-hour Seoul-Manila flight was fairly anxiety-free. My biggest worry was how I was gonna keep myself fresh and free from all the human bacteria floating in the plane's cabin. (Again, to those who know me, I'm famous for my atomizer filled with alcohol. I clarify, I didn't have a flask with me, and I'm referring to rubbing alcohol. Ehehe!) I already tried to live night as day and day as night since Guyana, like New York, is 12 hours behind Manila time. Meantime, I found that watching a short documentary / biography on Bill Gates fulfilled the promise of a teary-free time.

On the 2nd Day…

April 1, Tuesday. New York-Trinidad-Guyana (ETD 0100): Had a five-hour stop in New York. I stepped outside the terminal to feel the 10oC-weather, and to further drive home the point that I'm now very far away from home. Ate dinner – looked for rice, of course, so had some Chinese beef dish with fried rice; had to check in again 'coz was taking Caribbean Airlines; then, I changed my top in an attempt to look as old and as "I'm-not-gonna-keel-over-and-die-on-the-first-week-as-a-volunteer-in-your-country" as I could.

5:30 am (local time)…The sun was rising, our plane was landing in Trinidad, and, *I* was watching the sunrise in the Caribbean!

8:30 am (now, my home time)…Cookee has landed! Now, I start struggling to find time to continue leaving Cookee crumbs trailing from my old home, to my new one, Guyana. I expect that I'll be busier here than when I had jobs with two different NGOs in Manila. And for those of you who had to wait for me, running late during touching base meet-ups, or those who had to babysit Peppermint and order drinking water and wash week-old pots on my stove when I was on trips to the boonies, know how busy THAT busy was.

Touch down, one point to opposing forces. My first volunteering disaster…my luggage is not here! Apparently, they got left behind in New York. Due to the stringent anti-terrorism security measures of the States (you who know and LOVE me despite, can fill in the blanks right about now), my baggage could not accompany me all the way to Georgetown. No worry, running through a rough list in my head of what I managed to throw in my carry-on bags, I have enough of the essentials to get through at least a day or two without my checked-in luggage – 3 to 4 tops (formal-looking long-sleeved blouses), undies, toothbrush, toothpaste, anti-malaria drugs; oh, shite, I've no more socks, oh, and jeans or skirts, oh, and bath soap, or shampoo, and my other maintenance meds…oh shite, oh shite, oh shite…I'm screwed.

I was the last one out of the airport. Apparently, I was the only one whose luggage got too scared to follow me to Georgetown. I had to file a missing-baggage report, and was getting increasingly worried that whoever was sent to pick me up would begin to think I wasn't one of the passengers who arrived on the morning flight, and leave. I guess one whammy was enough for the day, and fortunately as I was walking out the airport doors I saw someone waving a giant VSO Banner, equally happy to see someone who looked lost enough to possibly be the one he's picking up.
Went to the VSO office soon after, which was a 45-minute drive away, and met most of the staff, including the Country Director, who is also a Filipina. After brief warm welcome greetings and lunch, I finally got brought to where I will be staying for the next two weeks covering the In-Country Orientation (ICO).

Slept till dinner. I'm at what they call a guest house, it's similar to youth hostels, I'm guessing. My room's simple but comfortable, they provide all the meals, and you can even request what and how you want your meals cooked.

On the 3rd Day…

April 2, Wednesday. Not such a good day today. Went to the VSO office this morning with high hopes about my luggage. Nada. No word yet from Caribbean Airlines; they don't know where it is even. It's now 8:22 pm and I can't get myself to write about the day or finish my entry for yesterday 'coz all I keep thinking is I've been in these jeans for almost four days now. AND, AND, I'm down to my last two cigarettes! AND, AND, my Filipina room mate snores! She arrived 2 am this morning, jolly and quite boisterous. 'Twas a welcomed interruption though, she seemed very friendly right off the bat and asked me to smoke downstairs over a cup of coffee. We chatted till 'round four am, she loves listening to herself talk. Yes, more than I do. But like I said at the time I didn't mind, except I'm writing this entry after all that's happened today so my tone's not quite the same.

We went to VSO office together around 11 this morning, and the woman just does not stop talking. She hardly listened to anyone in the VSO Program staff, and to think these are the people you should be most eager to hear from given that THEY are the ones working here and there's obviously much to be learned from them. Not to mention the fact that although my Program Manager for Disability is a very nice Dutch woman, Inge, the majority of the staff are locals—I don't think they like her very much, or maybe I'm just projecting. But here's the kicker: after lunch she got up to smoke outside and told me, not asked mind you, TOLD me to wash her plate along with mine. She's lucky this was in front of everyone, so all I said was, "Excuse me?" Then she quickly caught herself, but not entirely, and said to call her and she'll rinse. I later just put her plate in the sink and told her it's ready for washing.

On the up side, I met my first Person With Disability (PWD) at this same lunch, and I got to listen a bit to her and Inge discuss work. I'm not sure if she's totally blind or just visually impaired. I was quite cautious and mainly listening to their discussions 'coz I still don't know what's politically correct or not in asking people about their disability.

After submitting some documents, and surfing the net for a way to track my bags (in vain) with the help of another volunteer from Canada, Steve, I walked off to familiarize myself with the town. I found their version of Starbucks, Oasis Café, and they have free Wifi. And much like Starbucks, only the less economically challenged go there. Hee. Business men and women, foreigners, students, it's like Makati except with more color. Double hee.

Since I ditched Evelyn, that's my room mate's name (thank God, she's not in my program), I was in town alone and had to make sure I walked back to the guest house before sunset. It's the first time during this trip that I felt really vulnerable. The problem with going to Oasis is that it sticks out like a sore thumb in an extremely poor town. So beggars purposely wait outside, and compared to our street children with their sampaguitas, they seem like giants--a whole foot taller than Bob Marley. Come to think of it, compared to me, they are giants. It's part of VSO's security briefing instructions not to give alms, but really, when they're twice my size, I don't actually know if that's the safer option! So since nobody knew where I was exactly, I called the guest house before leaving Oasis to say I was walking back from the café already. Got here without incident, 'twas just a two-minute walk anyway.

Now down to my last cigarette, and the snoring woman (I know! We'll just call her SW from now on) awake again (she slept after dinner), I'm feeling really sore. I'll try to go to the market tomorrow morning for some skirts or something. I must have about 8-10 really nice ethnic skirts in my luggage, and half of them I haven't even worn yet!! :( I hope tomorrow's a better day… What did God create on Day 4? Shite, my Iterax is also in my lost luggage…shite. And since I slept around dinner to avoid having to join SW, I'm wide awake.