maui reflections

Just returned from a wonderful vacation in the peaceful paradise of Maui. We recharged our batteries with a week of 85 degree days filled with swimming, snorkeling, surfing and whale watching - before attending the main purpose of the whole trip - my cousin's wedding. While it's fun to remember those action-packed activities, I also can't help but reflect on my experiences with the people and within the culture of the island.

My wife and I felt right at home in Maui, which is populated with many Japanese and Filipinos. You can always spot the Japanese by their eating habits at a buffet. While the Americans and Filipinos indiscriminately heap one convoluted mound of mixed up food on their plates, the Japanese arrange several small and neatly separated piles of each food. Their plates end up looking like a bento box without the dividers... or the box. This difference holds true at our table as I shoveled spoonfuls of cornbeef/rice/egg/bacon/sausage/potatoes/veggies in my mouth while my wife took turns in picking at each of her 10 separate piles of fruits, veggies and rice. I observed an elderly Japanese couple pulling out their own condiments - including nori (seaweed) to add to their breakfast. My wife was also very happy to find many Japanese snacks and products in local grocery and convenience stores. And, I was happy to sample the local spam dishes!

Of course we also tried the traditional cuisine with the "Hawaiian Diet" dish at the Kaanapali Tiki Terrace. This dish featured chicken or fish wrapped and steam cooked in tea leaves with an assortment of sweet potatoes, purple yams, bananas and poi. The protein was lightly seasoned (if at all) and proved too bland for my relatives who are used to heavier flavors of Filipino foods. But I appreciated the healthiness of the plate and the lightly seasoned chicken/fish comes to life when eaten in harmony with its veggie and fruit costars. As for the poi, I don't hate it as much as other newbies...but I'm not going to claim it as my favorite new food either. Consistency was okay, but the overall sourness left it unfinished in my bowl.

With a mix of diverse peoples and the influx of tourists, there's always a potential to find humor in mundane situations.

One day we took the Sugar Cane Train - an old-fashioned steam railroad train that runs through the sugar cane fields. The caucasian conductor ambled up the aisle to check tickets and make friendly small talk with tourists. As he takes my ticket, he looks at our faces and asks where we are from. Whenever I hear that question from white people, I brace myself for the "Where are you from?/No, where are you REALLY from?" game. This guy did not disappoint. After I answered with "New Jersey", he asks, "Oh...and where were you from before New Jersey?" I deadpanned, "Maryland", while staring unblinkingly at his face. He seemed disappointed and mumbled, "Oh, that's close enough, I guess...", before shuffling on up the aisle.

"It pays to speak Ilocano in Hawaii." That was the observation of my aunt. Many of the workers at the hotel are Filipinos from the Ilocos region. While Tagalog is the national language, there are many regions and dialects in the Philippines. My mother's side of the family is from Pangasinan and speaks the dialect of the same name. My aunt requested dry cleaning service from the hotel and was prepared to pay the full price. When she spoke a few phrases of Ilocano to her husband, in perhaps an attempt to fish for a discount, the hotel employee brightened up and ate the bait, "Even though you speak broken Ilocano, I'm happy to hear it and will give you a family discount."

Are there separate prices for tourists and locals? I took my rental car for a car wash after a muddy drive through the famously curvy road to Hana. The advertised price on their sign read "$4.50 car wash with at least an 8 gallon purchase of gas." I head up to the cashier window and asked for the car wash without the gas. The Filipino-Hawaiian cashier smiles, looks at me and the car and charges $2.00. I wondered if they lowered the price, so I watched the caucasian tourist (obvious with camera around his neck) approach the window after me. He gets a $4.50 bill after explaining that he will fill up his car with gas. I guess I could fool people into thinking I'm a local. As a sidebar, whenever I travel to other cities, people always ask me for directions. My wife says people must think I look trustworthy...or I act like I know where I'm going (which usually is not the case)

My cousin's wedding listed barongs (traditional Filipino formal wear) as the preferred attire. I wore a beautifully colorful barong (courtesy of my aunt) with an island theme print. So before we left for the hotel, my wife and I posed for family pictures. As my father began snapping pics, I noticed a crowd of white people gathering behind him and pulling out their cameras. They started taking photos. At first, I thought they were taking shots of the scenery behind me - so I started to duck out of their way. Then I noticed they were all smiling and following me in my colorful barong and my wife in her sundress. Turns out they were taking paparazzi shots of us! So right now - somewhere in America or Europe, a white family is showing pictures of me and my wife, spreading misconceptions of "native" Hawaiian wedding attire. As the caucasian paparazzi snapped more shots of us, we continued to walk through the hotel lobby... and as my fresh barong flowed with me, I received some non-verbal props (smile & head-nod) from the Filipino employees. When I returned later that night, the maid left a note saying "Congratulations!"

coping & the culture of disclosure

We recently received sad news that my father in-law in Japan was recently diagnosed with liver cancer. Language barriers prevented deep conversations between me and him, but I always felt we had an unspoken bond. One of our shared activities in Japan was watching the Yankees game during breakfast in the morning. He enjoyed American baseball and we would conversate, smile and nod at each other between the plays. I always remembered our first meeting in Philly, when he mentioned to me (through my wife's translation) that I have "kind eyes". He is skinny as a rail, but he always projected a quiet strength to me. This is the strength that makes me believe that he will fight through his illness.

From my limited perspective, it is interesting to learn about cultural differences in cancer treatment and doctor-patient relationships. Historically, Japanese physicians do not disclose cancer diagnoses to patients. Instead, the doctor will inform the patient's family and they will decide if, when, and how much to inform their loved one of their illness. That process was difficult to comprehend as it would lead to ethics charges and lawsuits in the States - and personally, I would want to know every little detail of my diagnosis and treatment. But again, these differing perspectives are largely cultural. Recently, more Japanese physicians are moving towards selective disclosure based on age, psychological stability, decisional capacity, family support. But unlike most western countries, universal disclosure is not the norm yet.

My wife is fairly Americanized and she finds the doctor-patient relationship in Japan to be curious and at times frustrating. Its not common for older Japanese to question the doctor and at times information is left in the dark for patient and family. This is also a by-product of her mother not wanting to know developments if they are discouraging.

In discussing American strategies of full disclosure and pro-active doctor-patient treatment strategies, my mother-in-law suggests that these approaches are shaped by culture. In her view, many Americans have a stronger sense of self, individuality and a strong belief in some sort of religious faith. These characteristics help them face their illness head-on and foster a postitive working relationship with physicians during treatment.

My mother-in-law points out that the Japanese approach places a premium on delivering compassionate medical care. In her opinion, her husband does not have a strong sense of religious faith (she suggests that Buddhism and Shintoism are utilized as a way of life rather than a fervent faith) and his fragile state of mind would not take the disclosure well.

Coming to terms with helping a seriously ill parent is a difficult process - especially if you live on the other side of the world. Initially there is a sense of helplessness and regret. I consoled my wife towards overcoming these feelings by suggesting we can help by providing counsel to her mother over the phone. Let her talk through these stressful times. Its a form of therapy that works for all involved.

weddings

I made a return trip to Chicago for my cousin's wedding. My own church wedding was fairly intimate with 75 people attending the ceremony and reception. And as a groom, the whole process is a blur. Now my cousin's wedding was a typical Filipino wedding (groom is filipino, bride filipina/brazillian) with 300+ people and a full schedule of events. In my role as the best man, I got a close up view of how these events can be so stressful and hectic for many of the principal participants and organizers.

With attendees coming from all over the country and the world, arrivals and accomodations could have been a logistical nightmare. My uncle and aunt handled much of the pickups and shuttled many of our relatives from O'hare to a nearby hotel for much of the first day. There were numerous flight delays and late baggage to complicate things. It proved fairly exhausting to fly in and throw ourselves immediately into the schedule of events - starting with a rehearsal & dinner located 2 hours away from our hotel. We were shuttled in a fleet of vans for the long commute which took us through downtown Chicago on Lake Shore Drive - past the southside into a town called Olympia Fields. Many of the guest quietly grumbled about the distance and one of my distant cousins asked me, "Why did they pick this church?" Well, as we learned later on, the bride was baptized at this particular church and she wanted to get married there. Can't bitch about that one - it is the bride's day after all.

The rehearsal went by smoothly. Its difficult to even articulate the large size of my extended family. I met second cousins and nieces and non-blood relatives that I've never met before. It was even more difficult to explain it all to my wife. I can't tell you how many times she asked me the identity of an unknown relative - to which I answered "I don't even know...must be a cousin of a cousin." I learned that I had nieces and nephews ranging from baby age to 28.

Filipinos are known to entertain - so the rehearsal dinner featured a video montage of photos set to music. Suprisingly there weren't any skits or songs but there were plenty of speeches and gift-giving. Mmm to get sentimental over some tasty pasta.

for my aunt

My aunt passed away in a car accident last Wednesday. She was a strong woman. A religious woman. Above all, a woman who made sure every member of our large family felt loved. Her charming smile was contagious and her charisma exuded a loving warmth that gathered any family get together into one massive bear hug. It went without saying that my aunt had assumed the title of matriarch of the family after my Lola died. She took charge of the grandchildren and made sure everyone was well fed and in good spirits.

She was the first to call me to inquire about my wife's family upon hearing news of earthquakes in Japan. She never missed a birthday or anniversary. Who could forget her catchphrase, "God Bless America!" God bless my Tita Lita.

and how are we related??

Last weekend, I attended a family reunion and met more relatives that I never knew. Sounds bad, but in all fairness, I'm referring to non-blood relatives of my aunt-in-law. Still, you must show them same respect and familiarity as if you've known them all your life. It doesn't matter if you know more about your local postal worker than these people. Just go through the motions: kiss cheeks, give a 30 second synopsis of your life story and make fake plans to visit them. By then they'll be pushing you towards the food, relentlessly urging you to "Eat! Eat! You're too skinny! Eat!". I found out that 2 distant aunt-in laws live in my town. I already forgot their names but I have to remember to ask somebody about them. Too many faces to remember. Maybe name tags would help.

As expected, many members of my newfound family thought my wife and I were far younger than our actual ages. One lady couldn't believe we were married, "Ohh, I thought you were going to introduce her as your girlfriend, not your wife!" I didn't even mention that we've been married for 7 years (5 years for the religious types in the fam). I didn't want to see her eyes bug out and fall into her plate full of lechon.

Social grouping split along generational lines. We cheesed it up for the photographers as they called out, "Hoy! Second Generation..." We often found ourselves sitting amongst my younger cousins, who were busy chatting about their college experiences and the minutia of their free summers. Oh, to be young and carefree. Funny to see them drinking. Strange to see them with girlfriends - even though I was married when I was only a couple years older than their age.

Then there were the games. Supposedly its a tradition, but since I haven't attended one for a while, it was all new to me. The ringleader was an interesting woman - a white British lady who married my aunt-in-law's brother. She hushed the little ones and kept the older kids in order while explaining the rules. Her accent and stage presence reminded me of the friendlier Hogwart professors in those Harry Potter movies. I learned that she was a free spirited woman in her youth - traveled all around Europe, taught English in Japan for six months in '82 and made an excursion to the Philippines. She hopped around the various islands and met her future husband. She says the rest was history. History being their 3 kids.

Back to the games. A series of word puzzles was followed by a team game of fetch. Everyone was separated into 4 groups. Each group sent one representative to the head table where my aunt-in-law's sister-in-law informed them to fetch one item for her. First one to return with the item wins a point. Lots of racing back and forth. I almost shoved one of my unknown elderly relatives on the ground. Luckily, I caught her before the crash. Third event was a relay race which had teams passing pretzels via mouth-held raw spaghetti strands. Everyone opted out of the fourth game which was a relay involving holding a rubber ball under your chin and passing it to teammates neck to neck. I then quietly slipped away when I saw the lady bringing out an armful of board games. The kids played a charade type of game until everyone's stomach was growling for dinner.

I was fairly exhausted and stuffed with food, when my uncle cranked up the karaoke machine. I sang a couple lines of "New York, New York" and waited through a dozen songs before finally finding the moment to announce our departure. Everyone saluted my effort to make an appearance. I thanked my wife for surviving the day - which must be overwhelming to her. Overall, the reunion was enjoyable and exhausting. I drove away appreciating family ... and the little bit of distance that separates us.

anniversary

Had a great time celebrating my parents' anniversary with my family. I highly recommend the restaurant Nasu Blanca near Fort McHenry in Baltimore. Offering both Spanish and Japanese dishes on the same menu sounded intriguing and it was executed to excellence on each dish.

Reuniting with immediate family can be wonderfully familiar in a strange way. Does that even make sense? When you revisit pattern family behaviors under the same roof, there's a sense of comfort and awkwardness. Its easy to slip back into the roles which define your youth until you grasp the separation between the adult life you crafted as opposed to the childhood you were raised in. More tellingly, my observant wife is handy for perspective and often comments, "Now I know why you are the way you are." Now she's not necessarily alluding to my shortcomings when she says that. Or at least, that's what I tell myself.

Anyway its funny how memories come back to you while sleeping in your childhood bedroom and following time-honored rituals like sitting in our usual TV watching positions on the couch, hearing tsismis about all the titos and titas, and running the sunday afternoon sequence of church-grocery-lunch.

Once you get past the honeymoon period, you realize the level of work involved in cultivating a loving and lasting relationship. As funny as it may sound, years of marriage taught me to understand divorce. At least the complexities behind the reasons. I've observed friends and co-workers divorcing over a multitude of problems - present day issues, personal issues that have nothing to do with your partner and conflicting visions of the future. Or they just couldn't see themselves growing old together. And I came to an understanding that people can change and things don't always work because people can't always work it out. Anyway, my point is that I've come to the point where I can truly appreciate my parents' 40 years of marriage. When we asked them for any words of wisdom, they didn't reveal anything earth shattering. But when I saw them smiling almost sheepishly at each other, I sensed something overwhelmingly special.

farewell bob...

Bob Barker taped his final episode of "The Price is Right" (airing 6/15). Like many others over the past 35 years, I grew up with Bob. Watched him go from black hair to white. Held my breath whenever an over zealous fan tried to jump on him.

More importantly, "The Price is Right" reminded me of my Lola. For years, 11am in the summertime meant sitting on the floor with her in front of the TV watching Bob hold court. Often, Lola was sewing or mending our clothes and she would often repeat the announced prices or products with pins in her mouth. We would both shake our heads and gently scold a contestant who lost foolishly. And we laughed heartily when somebody wildly celebrated winning a car or hitting 100 on the big wheel. This was one of our big bonding moments along with the soaps and the tabloids. Something about bright lights, zany colors, breathlessly happy people and the announcer bellowing "Come on down!!" made everything all right.

Even to this day, years after Lola's passing...the show still brings back these memories. Its odd how a tv show can have such an effect. If I'm sick from work, I make it a point to watch it. And when I watch the show, I'm only partly paying attention to the action. A big part of me is remembering how me and Lola would react to these moments. So thanks for the memories Bob. Well, I can always catch you on youtube.

its a family affair

Last Saturday, I drove up to my uncle's house in Short Hills, NJ for a little family get together. Its been about a year since I've seen everybody, so I was prepared for lots of food with an interrogative grilling and a side order of tsismis (gossip) and some soap opera drama. This particular occasion was thrown in honor of my younger cousin's graduation from college. Seeing this kid graduate didn't make me feel older but I was blown away by how the young ones have grown and how much everyone else got older. I often carry a mental picture of everyone in their prime, so some of this party played out like a cheesy sitcom where the episode goes in the future and artificially ages the actors by whitening hair and simulating wrinkles with heavy makeup. Nonetheless, everyone was in good spirits and in typical storytelling mode.

Most filipino parties often breakdown socially by generation. Interestingly enough, we bucked the trend at the start and found ourselves eating with a bunch of "tito and tita" inlaws. I was running conversations with the table and later amazed my wife by confessing that I didn't know who they were (my apologies). I sensed from her reaction that this would not be good form in Japanese culture.

We moved on from that table and joined the more comfortable company of my older cousins to share some laughs., my wife commented that I was a 'tweener. I fit in between the group of college age cousins and the 40-something cousins with kids. Most of the college kids have thankfully matured to the point where they finally acknowledge my presence (even though I tirelessly played with them when they were toddlers). I was glad that we could now conversate - but relieved that they didn't include me in their "group". The older cousins fussed over their kids and seemingly searched for something exciting in my life to live vicariously through. I sensed that one of my older cousins (who I idolized) is stuck in a dead end job and blurted out, "Its a 9 to 5...nothing changes..." Then I caught him sitting there blanked out - looking plainly like a tired daddy. Not exactly encouraging my perspective on having kids...but hey maybe the guy just had a long day.

Suprisingly, no questions about when we were going to have kids. My parents must have slipped the word to leave us alone on that topic. Then I realized that my parents have been trying to satisfy their gossip hungry ears. Our occasional trips to NYC became translated as "Oh I hear you go up north to NYC all the time and you never stop by. All we get is a wave from the turnpike!". Many relatives were asking about my new job - since my dad forwarded my personal email to all of them without my knowledge. This is the same dad who used to travel in secrecy because he didn't want any of the relatives to find out and gossip. Now he's an informant! I guess he broke down during their interrogations. We've gained the rep of being a "very private couple". Its all good though - we all had laughs about it.

Then came the "grilling". I was questioned about my sister, my parents, my cousins in chicago and vegas...and just about anyone who wasn't present. One of my cousins concluded that I'm only good for the surface info...once you dig deep - I have nothing.

7 years

Last Sunday, me and wifey celebrated our 7th anniversary with a return trip to Alma De Cuba for a nice nite out in Philly. As always, we reminisced about our unconventional "first" wedding day back in 2000.

It was a sunny Saturday on May 13th. I'm not superstitious, but I always imagine people reacting curiously in their head when hearing that number. Anyway, the sun was blinding its way through our apartment windows facing Spring Garden street in Philly. She was a vision in a white miniskirt. I was all heated in my navy suit - not just because it was hot, but because we were running late as usual. We're still notoriously late for any social event - company parties, meeting friends, or even a simple restaurant reservation for ourselves. I could always say I'm on "Filipino Time", but I don't know what her excuse is - Japanese people are supposed to be punctual. I must be a bad influence.

So we scooped our wedding license, our rings and headed out to Yerkes Wedding salon in West Philly. Maxwell's high pitched cover of Kate Bush's "This Woman's Work" shrilled off the radio as I whizzed through a maze of streets. I don't remember how I initially found this place - probably through the internet. There was no heavy research, just looking for a place that could accomodate a quickie in a short turnaround. At that time we were in a slight rush. She would graduate a week later and her student visa would expire. That's why there was no traditional proposal on my part. Our story is that we sat at the now defunct IHOP on Walnut Street and realized the convergence of her expring visa with the status of "us". From that point, a rush of events ensued. A pleasant day at City Hall to get our marriage license. A quick trip to Tiffany's in my baggy jeans and Timbs to grab the rings. You may notice that I skipped the informing the parents part. That would come later and deserves a separate story for itself. And then finally the big day at Yerkes.

The wedding salon was in reality a converted house with a number of nuptial rooms. We signed in and presented our license at a long makeshift table in the lobby entrance. Not exactly glamorous, but official nonetheless. We were led to a room near the back of the house. Nothing too memorable about this room. Kind of sparse with minimal wedding decorations. I think there was some sort of background frame that reminded me of a school play set. The official gave us his schtick and we were smiling at each other and stifling giggles for some reason. Following the vows and our kiss to seal the deal, the witness took our picture which we purchased for a small fee. We then exited literally through the back door of the house in wedded bliss. While driving away from Yerkes, we laughed more about the silliness of the wedding salon rather than reflect upon the gravity of our committment. We had lived together as bf/gf for 1 1/2 years at this point, so marriage provided no tangible difference other than the wedding rings on our fingers. So we followed the ceremony by lunching at an outdoor table of a restaurant in Old City. Surely, if we had a chance to go back, we'd do things differently. But somehow this story seems almost appropriate.

Whenever we reminisce about this day, we always conclude that we were being young. I guess 24 & 25 is not really that young - but we were young for that age. Young in terms of operating with a slight recklessness and a wide-eyed "us against the world" mentality. We were living in the moment because we were the future.

7 years later - sitting at this restaurant, I find myself enjoying the cliche of "growing old together" and appreciating the simplicity of sharing a dessert and a quiet moment together.