Two summers ago I visited the place I was born. I haven’t been back to the Philippines since I left as a 2 year old. I had become a toddler prodigy at the local shoe factory and a multi Peso-naire. Selling my house, car, and caribou were hard to do. Plus having to haul all that luggage was tough for a child my age.
Here is a picture of me a few hundred feet from the Subic Bay military base in which I was born. Which happens to be in the middle of a jungle and during the year of the Monkey. I’ve come to realize, those two facts explain a lot about me.
It was a spiritual experience. As we entered the gates of Subic Bay, we were greeted with a sudden torrential downpour. I couldn’t tell if my ancestors were crying tears of joy, or disappointment over my return. I’m an optimist, so… they were happy damnit! Our van sputtered up the small uphill road that wound through the jungle. I kinda felt like a salmon swimming back to the place I was born. Except I wasn’t going to fertilize a bunch off eggs at the end of the trip. Child support can be expensive. The uphill drive made me think of how life would have been had my parents not moved to America. Although I love my life in America, I might have made a monkey friend in the Philippines. Now that would have been awesome.
