Home is an interesting word. There are so many sayings talking about home, and I believe it is because home is so different to so many people. This coming from a guy who left home this past July in order to get back home to Korea. Usually home dictates a place where a person has spent a lot of time in the past, but when Sarah and I went to the Philippines for a week in September, I felt a great sense of returning home even though I had not been there in over 20 years. There were only a handful of relatives whom I remembered, and I had to be reminded what most of their names were, but that didn’t take any of the home away from it. We stayed in a different place than we stayed two decades ago, but that didn’t diminish anything either. I was raised in an “American” household with minimal connections to my Filipino heritage so I never really developed a connection with the Filipino culture. I can think of all these things that should make it difficult for me to call the Philippines home, but I can’t nail down the idea of what did make it feel like I was coming home. All I know is that even though the Philippines is not where I belong, I felt like I did and it made me feel good.
Upon looking back at the trip into my mom’s hometown, of Carigara, on the island of Leyte, there are several things that stick out in my mind that make me smile as I think about sharing them with you. The first thing that sticks out in my mind is that Sarah and I woke up at 4:30 in the morning on our first day in my Carigara. I woke up to my dad shouting, “It’s for you Loren!” I went downstairs and there were most of my relatives singing happy birthday to me. They had candles, flowers, and a local blind guitarist they brought in. I mean come on. This would never happen in the states because nobody, even relatives, want to wake up that early even to sing happy birthday, especially to a relative they haven’t seen for 20 years. Second, the neighbors would have a fit. And on a side note, my birthday was twelve days prior. Overflowing with love, it was all I could do to sit there and smile and not jump up and hug all of them.
The second memory that sticks out was when we visited the house of one of my Aunt and Uncle’s. The house was off the main road and had a concrete path for the family trishaw to ride on. As we got close, we were welcomed by the sound Chicago and other bands which I can’t remember, but definitely remember the songs. There were chickens and the cutest puppy. My cousins poured out of the house to welcome us and it was so important to me to connect with these cousins in particular. My aunt gave us cacao, straight from the tree, and water then started talking in Visayan to my mom. I had no idea what they were saying, and they even mentioned mine and Sarah’s name a couple of times. While my mom and my aunt talked, My cousin Rhea and her brother Arnell (both in their twenties), came out and talked to my dad, Sarah and I. We talked about work, school, and hobbies. We all just kept talking until it was time for us to go. It was such a nice time there. We went into the conversation having minimal amounts of knowledge of each other, but, there was never any moment where we weren’t sure what we should talk about. We were all so curious about each other we just kept on asking each
other questions. They even took us on a tour of the rice fields and showed us the rice harvesting process. (Ask me and I will tell you all about it.) We left there and as I looked back, I was once again overflowing with love for my family.
That same night, our last in Carigara, my mom told me that we were going to have dinner with some distant relatives of ours that I hadn’t seen yet. I was hesitant to go because these relatives were distant and it was our last night. The night was going to be filled with conversations in a language I didn’t know with people I was barely related to. (Sorry Mom.) But, Sarah and I went anyways. We were there long enough to hear a three bad karaoke songs then made our exit. My
mom understood the reasoning, then Sarah, Cousin Archie, and I left. We walked back and found most of my
cousins, aunts, and uncles sitting around the table eating dinner. I think they were just as happy to see us as we were to see them. Plates were set out for us and we began to eat. However, this was the first time my mom wasn’t there. We dug into the food as true Filipinos do, with their hands. Again, overflowing. After dinner we drank San Miguel, sang karaoke, and watched my cousins dance. The perfect way to end the trip home.
