Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

I saw one of the most pristine and impressive sights my eyes have beheld here in my 2 years in the Philippines the other day. Before going any further, the enormity of this initial statement should be weighed appropriately. To say that one thing that I have seen is above and beyond anything else during my experience as a Volunteer is a pretty bold statement, and one that took careful thought and consideration before finally writing it. We live in a pretty impressive location and see impressive sights every day; our front porch overlooks the cobalt waters of the Sulu Sea while our rear bedroom window frames an expanse of rugged hills surrounded by glaringly green rice paddies. In my time here I have been able to dive on reefs seemingly created in stunning Technicolor and unspoiled by human destruction due to the fact they were literally in the middle of nowhere. I have hiked on the precipitous edges of towering rice terraces carved into the side of mountains. Nearly every night brings an impressive performance by the sun as She dawdles in the sky and then swiftly dips into the far reaches of the horizon, causing the sky to explode into millions of hues of red. I have had my share of impressive sights, so it is a big deal for me to say I had witnessed something that was more spectacular than all the rest.

I stood there slack-jawed and reverent in the midst of its beauty— the sheer number of objects was striking enough, but the colors—oh, the amazing colors—they were truly impressive! They were so vivid. So remarkable. My eyes roamed back and forth across its expanse, hungrily drinking in the beauty. It was something I wanted to relish and save in my memory banks for a long time. Erin was stunned speechless (itself an impressive feat) and I was merely able to mumble a weak “wow” as we just stood and enjoyed looking at it and being in its presence.

The cereal aisle at the Iloilo City Supermarket is really nothing compared to its cousins across the pond in Walmart, Safeway or the perennial Michigander one-stop-favorite, Meijer, but we liked what saw. We liked it a lot. It did not stretch as far as the eye could see, but it stretched far enough for us. The choices of yummy grainy breakfast foods at our site is limited to 2 or 3 varieties of stale, generic flakes of corn or crisped rice puffs. There are not even any cartoon characters on the boxes. How am I supposed to excited about cereal without any furry, funny or freaky character pedaling his or her wares?! For cereal aficionados like Erin and I, this lack of cereal has been a rather difficult time of adjustment for us. Our whole morning routine was thrown out of whack, not to mention the before-bed-bowl we were so keen to enjoy in the States. Erin and I have overcome a lot here; in the past 2 years, we were able, for the most part, to somehow negotiate around and through the complexities of the obscure dialect used in our rural province and string together various useful sentences such as “Where today go you really?” and “Taste good skin of goat.” We were also able to adjust to wearing jeans in stifling heat, being stared at, pointed at and laughed at every single day and sleeping amidst the cacophony created by the legion of roosters, cows and videoke machines that love to signal the arrival of 5 a.m. However, living without acres of cuddly characters celebrating their tasty wares of first-meal-is-the-most-important-meal-of-the-day-goodness, well…that has proved to be a little bit more trying. Seeing more than 2 varieties of cereal was, well, nice. Actually, I believe the correct pronunciation would be ‘niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice.’

The initial awe was intense, but fleeting. At first we just looked and enjoyed our status as observers of this supermarket splendor, but then, somewhat suddenly, we both shook out of our awe and realized that these precious boxes were not just for looking at, they were designed to be purchased. They were made to be owned, however briefly, and consumed. Eaten. Gobbled. Scoffed. Munched. Not the boxes, the cereal (though sometimes we may have chosen to eat cardboard instead of some of the dishes we have been served here). Our gazes became more intense and our focus shifted from mere admirer to ravenous American Consumer. Erin ran down one side of the aisle and I trotted next to her. We shouted out names of long lost favorites back and forth to each other, giddy in our new find. They sounded foreign to our unaccustomed ears, but familiar all the same. Many of our conversations with other volunteers revolve around favorite foods. It was as if I was in 7th grade again talking with my friends about all the girls I thought were beautiful but were out of my league, and then finding myself face to face with all of them eager to go with me. “MMM…Honey Nut Cheerios!” “ Frosted Flakes! From Kellogs!” We were giddy and continued shouting out the names to each other. They rang so beautifully in our ears.

At last, out of breath, our smiles stretched to exhaustion, we found ourselves in front of Barney Rubble and his box of Cocoa Pebbles. From Post. Imported, but not stale (we made sure to check the expiration date at least 4 times). Most importantly, Family Sized. When we have had the inkling for generic made-in-Indonesia corn flakes, we found each box holds approximately only 1.6 bowls of cereal. Tiny bowls. Not even bowlfuls, really, more like spoonfuls. This has proven to be problematic for us, since the bowls we received at our wedding and had used in the States were roughly the size of our Crock Pot. We would each regularly put away 2-3 bowls (nay, barrels) of cereal in one sitting (did I mention we were a little, umm, overweight when we lived in the US?). To see a sinfully sweet cereal was joyous enough, but that it was Family Size was pure ecstasy. We could enjoy it for more than 5 chews! We snatched it from the shelf and ooohed and ahhed over the weight of so much cereal, quickly helped Barney find his Pebbles through the maze on the back and read the nutritional facts on the side (in case you are not familiar with Cocoa Pebbles, there are, in fact, no nutritional value to eating that crunchy chocolaty goodness). The price was almost equal to a weeks worth of food (about 5 USD) but we were ready to throw caution to the wind and our wallets out the window. While you Can’t Buy Me Love, Happiness does have a price, and it is 220 Pesos.

Now, this experience may seem a bit trite to some of our friends and family in the US. I can picture you now reading this and thinking, “Of all the things in that tropical paradise, cereal is the most beautiful thing you’ve seen?! Stupid hippie.”
I want to make clear that would not be an accurate statement. Nothing could be further from the truth. I do not, in fact, have long hair anymore and should not be labeled a hippie. That being cleared up, we would happily exchange a few of our palm trees for a couple of good boxes of cereal. Maybe some granola or muesli. I realize this is a bit ludicrous as well; I am not sure how I would even begin to bring a palm tree to the post office. In truth, though, I am familiar with Joni Mitchell’s (and more recently Counting Crow’s) inspiring words that, “you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone” and I do not want to glaze over our experiences these past 2 years by seriously stating that we would rather have cereal than sunsets, reefs or palm trees. I know that as soon as we get back to the States and are walking down the endless miles of cereal aisles we will soon get tired of (and fat from) the thousands of choices available to us and will wish we were back here lounging in a hammock by the sea. But for now, we will cherish what we had, which was really the best of both worlds. We got a chance to eat yummy cereal on our porch watching a sunset amidst the palm trees, which was pretty great (even if it meant we could not afford to eat for the next 4 days). It was a perfect mix of both the familiar amenities of home with the wondrous surroundings of the Philippines. Now that we are packing up and ready to move on, I am realizing that, even though I miss some of the conveniences of home, I am going to miss the beauty and simplicity which exists here. If only I could figure out how to get some palm trees back to Michigan…