December 25, 2008: Maligayang Pasko

Christmas Eve had been somewhat hectic from a family standpoint, but it paled in comparison to Christmas itself.  Relatives kept showing up at the house as if emerging from a clown car.  I called my parents around 11 am (10 pm the previous night for them) and talked for 15 minutes, and fortunately I called when I did because at noon the family came pouring in.  Alma's father's relatives came for lunch, and our only relief was a three-hour jaunt to the mall at 3:30.  I tried to use some of my rudimentary Tagalog on the mall workers; it was fine, but I drew my share of chuckles.  I'll probably have to be fluent - and obviously so, since here it was pretty clear that I was leaning on Alma and her cousin for some communication (not that most people in Manila don't speak at least some English) - before I don't elicit that kind of "He's making an effort!  That's so cute!" response.  It didn't help that I only really had occasion to use "salamat po" ("thank you," politely), the kind of thing a foreigner could easily just have been taught by his Filipino friends or whatever.  I did use "Maligayang pasko po" at the Nike store, which drew the biggest response, probably because it was even more conspicuous given that the cashier had just said "Merry Christmas" to me in English.

Our return to the house saw Alma's mother's relatives - she has nine siblings, so you can perhaps imagine the sheer volume of cousins around - and dinner, the centerpiece of which was an entire roast pig.  The cook cut some pork and several pieces of the fried skin right in front of me, so that was pretty out of my element.  The fried skin wasn't too bad, though; it basically tasted like tortilla chips.  In less positive news, I picked up some sort of minor cold on the airplane (I think) and the radical shift in climate didn't help.  By Christmas the sore throat and runny nose not only hadn't faded but were probably worse than they'd been.  It was only going to get worse before it got better.

The roast pig upon arrival from... wherever it came from.

This was not a small pig.  Which is good, because it had to feed like two dozen people.  It was a little odd actually seeing it get carved up in front of me.  It's not like you never see that with meat, but usually it's not off a full, recognizable animal.

We didn't have an apple, so Alma's cousin stuck an orange in the pig's mouth for the picture.

Alma's cousin said I should pose with the pig, so I grabbed a clementine to match.  Of course I ended up with hideous red-eye, as I so often do.

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