On Lockdown in Metro Manila....

Like all who are currently living through the Coronavirus Pandemic of 2020, I'm assuming that I'll look back on these days with a little bit of awe at how crazy it all was. But right now, I've only got the perspective of living it.

We're doing just fine, but we have an underlying low level of stress from a situation that keeps changing every day. We're just all waiting for the next restriction. First it was reductions in workforce and encouragement to telework and all the schools closing. Then it quickly changed to all the parks being closed. And finally, as of last night, we are all required to stay in our houses except to get groceries. Public transportation has been suspended. The staff that run the building where we live may be sleeping in the empty driver's lounges (though I hope not.)

It has felt like the net has been getting tighter and tighter. "Please stay home." "Ok, not enough of you are staying home. We'll close some more things. We really mean it. No going to the mall." "Ok, I know we said that we weren't going to go to a lockdown, but too many of you guys went out, so now we're going to make you stay at home. If you come out now without a good reason, the authorities can chase you back in."

I think the hardest thing right now is knowing that friends and family in the U.S. can still go to parks and walking trails. They can be out in their yards. They can drive places in their cars, as long as they're not going anywhere crowded.

I, on the other hand, live in one of the most crowded cities in the world. There really aren't many places without people. We have already self restricted for most of our time here because Manila traffic is so bad that it's just easier to stay within a small radius where you can usually walk.

This is going to continue for at least a month, and it may feel like the longest month of our lives. I'm hoping that we can still get outside in the landscaped area behind our building, but I'm trying not to count on it.

In a conscious attempt to reject panic buying, I have only been shopping once a week. I was able to get most of what we would need for this week from my local grocery store, but the line looked like this. I did pretty well because I was only standing in line for an hour. I've heard that it's gotten much worse in only a day.

Anyway, the store was crowded, and I was pretty stressed. The cashier told me that they'd run out of bags, and she asked me if I'd like a box. A box? Ok, paki po. Kuya came rushing up, expertly built a box, and then he started packing it. My rice and other heavy items went on the bottom. Nothing was crushed. He closed it and tied it up thoroughly with heavy twine. Then he heaved it up and put it in the cart and pushed it out to my car. I've been impressed with Filipino baggers for years. They really know their stuff, but this was next level.

It occurred to me that that my shopping experience yesterday probably encapsulates why I'm not that worried about staying here through the next month. Yes, this country feels chaotic right now, but I know that the average Filipino is working hard and creatively to make sure that we have what we really need. People know how to work hard and to think about the community. They work together to come up with creative solutions in less than ideal circumstances, and they've been doing it for years. They're proud of doing their jobs well and with a smile. And honestly, the smile is such an important part of it in these tense times.

Vacationing a bit more like a local...

It's been almost 3 years since we moved to the Philippines. The passage of time hits home to me more when we return to places that we've been before... and experience them differently because we are different.

I've vacationed on beautiful Borocay's beaches 3 times, and I've stayed at the same hotel in Station 3 every time. The first time was when I had only lived here a few months, and I took my friend, Sarah, with me. I was new to living outside of my western comfort zone, and I was a bit skittish. We didn't stray very far from the hotel.

The second time was last fall when we came with friends who are long term residents of the Philippines. They showed us their favorite haunts, and we knew a lot more about living the Filipino life, so we were far more relaxed. We know what cardineras and sari sari stores are now, and we know how to buy from them. Walking down a narrow street off the beach in the beach led to a great story about Ben losing an apple as it rolled down the hill in the dark and a random person handing it back to him after he thought it was long gone.

There's a long street that leads from the main road in Borocay down to the beach at Angol Point. It's full of regular Filipino life. There are guys resting after piling long, narrow rods of metal for a house that's under construction. Local kids walk by laughing in groups, coming down to the beach, still wearing their school uniforms. The sari sari stores sell tiny lemon Fantas that we can't get in Manila, and the farther you get from the beach, the cheaper they are. People drive by on motorcycles, and you'd better move to the side if you don't want to get run over. Local dogs sit in the shade, waiting for you to drop your banana cue.

And speaking of banana cue, I decided to buy some from a cardinera for the first time. I couldn't resist. We could smell him frying it in oil as we walked down the sandy road late in the afternoon, looking for mangos to buy by the kilo.

"How much, kuya?" "20 pesos, ma'am." "One please, po."

Heaven on a stick, mga kaibigan. Fresh banana cue is addictive. We came back more than once for that sweet, carmelized sugar on a saba banana.

Not far from the banana cue stand was a fruit vendor. She called Ben "handsome", and we knew he could get his sliced mango every day because she'd be there. David had her make him a mango shake with condensed milk, no added sugar, because you can do that at fruit stands here. We know this now.

David and the boys would walk to Starbucks in the mornings far down the beach before I was up and going. One day, they decided to take a pedal trike. The pedal trike kuya said they could all ride, but he'd need to put down a piece of cardboard in the luggage rack to hold Evan. So he did. We also know this is totally normal, and Evan loved his special seat. He told them about Borocay and pointed out the sights. He has 6 kids, and this is his regular job. He rents the trike daily from someone else, and he needs to get enough fares to pay the rent and then have some left over.

For the most part, if you're in a local part of town, you'll pay the same rates as the locals for typical things like fruit and snacks, and we appreciate that. All bets are off on the beach, though. I think they assume that foreigners don't know the exchange rate. I asked a guy selling little pen lights how much he was charging. "800 pesos." I laughed and said, "I live here." Nope. I'm not paying $18 U.S. for a pen light toy. I'm proud that I know enough to know when a vendor is trying to overcharge me... and that most locals aren't.

When we walked away from our hotel, I knew that this was the last time we'd probably ever see it. It was the last time I'd see the pink dressed reception ates who noticed that Ben had cut his toe somehow and got out the betadine to clean it up. It was the last time I'd see the waiters who praised my kids' drawings and laughed when they got together to try and pull apart an oar that wouldn't come unstuck. We are known and appreciated because we've become sukis (regular customers), and I'm going to miss that.

We are using this time in our lives as a precious chance to travel, and we are traveling all over Asia, but there is something special about traveling in a country that you understand better because of the hard won knowledge you've gained by learning to call it home. Mahal kita, Philippines.