BALIK-BAYAN: TO BE OR NOT TO BE?

By Dominador J. Salas

One would think that at this time in my life I must have already decided on the important and straight-forward question of where to retire. But here I am, five years into my retirement and still up in the air, mulling over the same question.

My heart urges me to “come home” to the “land of my father” but my mind tells me otherwise, reminding me about the obvious reasons why I should stay in the United States, my country of residence and citizenship for 35 years. I have often debated myself to resolve my inner conflict but each time I ended up a little more conflicted.

Most balik-bayan have specific compelling reasons to return to and live in the Philippines. They may have inherited property or business that nobody else can or is left to manage or most of their relatives are still there or they have not established roots in their adopted country. In my case, however, it is none-of-the-above. Not surprisingly, my children and well-meaning friends, both here and abroad, tell me that I have to be crazy to leave the U.S. for the hot, humid, poverty-stricken, typhoon/earthquake-prone, politically-unstable Philippines. Are they right?

Well, today seems a good day to address the question, once and for all. I’m seated at my desk in a quiet room at home. With pencil in hand and a note pad in front of me I shall proceed to analyze the pros and cons. I shall keep a journal , just in case I am unable to reach a definitive conclusion. Perhaps later a disinterested reader can come up with a Solomonic wisdom to help me out.

It can be said that my wife and I have lived the American dream. We have. Probably even more so than the average American. Having immigrated as young professionals we rose rather quickly from near dirt-poor conditions in Manila to upper-middle socio-economic level in New Jersey. Within six years of arrival we had a 4-bedroom 3-bath house on 1 ½ acres in the suburb, two children (both U.S. born) attending private schools, a dog, two luxury cars in the garage, and yes, a proverbial chicken in the pot. We have had a network of relatives and friends, have been active in our church and community, have taken vacations, attended celebrations and concerts and occasionally shopped and dined at Filipino groceries and restaurants. We have smoothly and completely assimilated into the general population. Indeed, we have been living healthy peaceful, comfortable and, for the most part, satisfying lives. Isn’t that almost picture-perfect? One that most Filipinos in the Philippines can only dream about?

Our two grown children, both ivy-league graduates and now themselves professionals, live independently in California. Furthermore, we have an adorable granddaughter, five, whom we miss very much. They are the reason why we travel to California at least twice a year and keep in touch by phone nearly every other day, thanks to the falling phone rate. It would definitely cost us more to keep the same degree of contact, if we were to move abroad, though the difference may not be significant.

Since my retirement from college teaching five years ago my longing to be a balik-bayan permanently has intensified. I have often felt as though some force has been pushing me - like a spawning salmon’s urge - to return to where I was born. It does seem a far-fetched explanation to my predicament. However, being a psychologist, I suspect that this is within the realm of probability. Unconscious motive is a major concept in Freudian psychology. It explains why sometimes people act without being aware of the motive for their action.

It is probable that, in my early childhood, associations were established in my formative mind between pleasant nurturing experiences and familiar environmental stimuli where I grew up. These associations had left indelible neural connections which when reactivated, lead me to behave in ways in which I may not know why. I may not be aware why certain smell, sight, taste or touch elicits strong pleasant sensations, feelings, perceptions or thoughts. The sight and smell in a room in my ancestral home, the crowing of roosters, the scent of ripening mangoes, the voices of children talking in the local dialect, etc., may evoke in me strong feelings of excitement, happiness or comfort as they once did in my childhood. If this was true, would it be enough reason for me to make the big move? I think not. Then what else could there be?

Perhaps I need to step back and, as objectively as possible, recall the details of my experiences in my four-week vacation eighteen months ago in Bulacan province where I grew up. They may provide a microcosm of an enduring balik-bayan retirement experience.

My wife and I rented a 4-year-old 3-bedroom ranch house, complete with all appliances (including AC) and ample yard, for $450 for the month. I was glad that there was adequate air conditioning because my wife and I could not tolerate the heat and humidity. We paid for the electric utility bill which amounted to about a quarter of our regular bill in the U.S.. At the time, the house happened to be also listed for sale at $130,000 which was roughly equivalent to the cost of building a two-car garage and driveway in my own yard in New Jersey. For our transportation, my sister offered us and we accepted the use of her spare car for which we paid for maintenance and fuel. A hired married couple cleaned the house, washed the car and ironed our clothes for $45 once each week.

My nephew (twice-removed), who was unemployed at the time was our chauffer 24/7. My teenage niece cooked (she was an excellent chef at 19) and acted as house caretaker since there was not much for her to do on their farm in the month of March. We provided food and lodging for both of them. Before we left we gave my nephew $800 and my niece $400, as recommended by our friends. Both were very grateful to us as we were to them. If we had hired non-relatives it would have cost us a little more. Still, it would have been a small fraction of the cost elsewhere.

By the third week of our vacation we had visited most of our friends and relatives and major resorts on Luzon. Everywhere we went it was very gratifying to see and hear that Filipino tradition was very much alive and well. Young relatives greeted us by kissing the back of our hands and the respectful affixes of po (sir, formal) or ho (sir, informal) was still uttered in every sentence. Hospitality, often to excess, still ruled. Our hosts served their best food on their best china, used their best silvers, offered their best beds, and always made sure that we were comfortable.

One good thing about being retired was that one had time to smell the sampagita (fragrant native flower) or the ripening guava on the tree. And one’s contemporaries were likely to be retired as well, free of any schedule. One afternoon Comparing Pedring paid us a visit, lugging four buko (young coconut) freshly picked off his trees and a half-dozen mangoes. He must have heard that I was fond of drinking buko juice. For the rest of the afternoon we had an animated conversation about recent events in the baryo (village) and about some old photos of our respective families. He sampled with relish the assorted cheeses and the sherry that we brought from the U.S.. He enjoyed our meeting so much that I heard that he was still raving about it recently.

On another day Maning and his wife dropped in bringing four rolls of carabao (water buffalo) cheese, a four-pound bag of pinipig ( rolled young sticky rice) and two jumbo daing na bangus (marinated milkfish). For nearly four hours we reminisced our youthful escapades over beer and some pulutan (tapas), cheeses and fruits. We gave them a small bottle of whisky as we parted. Every now and then other relatives and friends came to chat, often bringing with them native delicacies and fruits. These may be little gestures of courtesy but the mutual feeling of camaraderie and appreciation ran deeply.

If personal beauty care was important to you, then you were in good hands in the Philippines. Skillful beauty technicians and masseurs were readily available even in the provinces. For a small fraction of the cost in the U.S. you got the best beauty treatment anywhere. They even came to your house for multiple procedures at no extra charge. In the 28 days that we were there we each had three complete makeovers at home for about a tenth to an eighth of the cost here. At first I was ashamed to even show my ugly, callous, cracked feet with toe nails fungus-infected, let alone to be done completely. You know how clearing snow and ice in 20-degree weather in February in New Jersey could severely punish one‘s feet. When I saw the dainty and delicate hands of the young technicians I worried that my rock-hard feet could harm them. They assured me, however, that they were used to handling them.

Anyway, at my wife’s insistence I finally consented. Two beauty technicians and a masseur worked on us. Each of us had hair cut, hair color, shave, unwanted hair removal, earwax removal, blackheads removal, callous removal, manicure, pedicure, hand and foot bath and massage, body massage -- the works. The bill for me was $45 including tips and $50 for my wife. My bill was the cost and tips of two haircuts in New Jersey. When it was over, I literally could not recognize myself. My wife, too, looked like a senior model…no, make that younger senior model. After the third makeover the soles of my feet were so soft and smooth and my toe nails were so pretty that I wanted to show my feet rather than hide them. What a transformation! What a bargain!

Most Filipino food is available here within an hour’s drive from our home. Unfortunately, my preferences, though remarkably common in the Philippines, are either not available or difficult to obtain in the U.S.. In Bulacan fish vendors went around three times a week selling all kinds of fresh (mostly live) fish and shellfish: talimusak (native fish-fry-like fish), igat (eel), tanggingi (mackerel), bangus (milkfish), tahong (mussel), talaba (oyster), alimango (mud crab), etc.. If you missed the vendor, you could hop onto a tricycle (it comes by every few minutes) to get to market about one and a half miles away. Fresh bread, meat, fish, fruit and vegetable are available there daily.

Some of the food that I particularly like are: pangat na talimusak (fish fry steamed with ginger and other spices), ginisang tahong sa usbong ng sampalok (sautéed mussels with chopped tamarind shoots), inihaw daing na bangus (grilled marinated milkfish), dinuguan may malunggay (pork and its internal organs cooked in its blood, vinegar, chili and malunggay leaves), adobong igat may alagaw (eel adobo with alagaw leaves), ginisang kabuteng ginikan (sautéed straw mushrooms), pritong pata (crispy pig’s knuckles), and balut (boiled duck eggs with developed embryo). Many of these are not available in New Jersey. Sometimes we travel New York City or to Philadelphia to find them. It would seem silly to go to such lengths when the price of gas is sky-high but we do.

When friends and relatives invited us to dinner, they invariably assumed that I would prefer steak to other common fares. One well-to-do lady host looked at me with pity when she noticed that I was not touching the premium juicy Australian steak that she especially prepared for us. She thought I was missing on the “good stuff”. I went for the dinuguan, daing na bangus and sautéed snails instead. She could not have been more wrong. I sensed that steak was the food of choice of the affluent and the powerful in the Philippines. Well, I guess I revealed my plebian origin. How could I help it? My taste had been set in my early childhood.

In nowhere else but in the Philippines could I feel intimacy and close communion with my ancestors. Whenever I walked on familiar grounds in Bulacan I always felt the welcoming arms of relatives, living or dead. One day as I stood behind my ancestral home, my heart just pranced with glee and my mind filled with pleasant memories of youth as soon as I surveyed the rice fields and the hilly background. I could imagine Itay (Dad) and me on those fields on a rainy night holding hurricane lamps and catching frogs for our next dinner. I could imagine myself in the forest up on those hills with my brother gathering firewood or digging for ubi (yam) or picking duhat (Java plum). Though much of the fields had been built up with homes and the forest was a mere shadow of its former self, I knew them by heart.

That kind of experience was even more palpable whenever I visited my parents’ mausoleum at the Manila North Cemetery. (Unfortunately, a homeless family has been squatting in my parents’ sheltered mausoleum in the last few years without our consent, if you can believe it. It was like an apartment because it had piped water and toilet facilities. At least the family of three respected our presence by clearing out and getting out of our way whenever we visited but other than that we could not do anything about it). As soon as I sat by my parents’ tombs and I closed my eyes I could vividly imagine my parents in my presence, conversing with me. I hear Itay reminding me to wear a hat before I went out in the sun. I could even feel Inay’s (Mom’s) hand patting my back encouraging me “Kain pa, anak” (“Eat more, son”). Is it any wonder why I had been putting on so much weight gorging on talimusak and dinuguan?

Health care has been one of my and my wife’s major concerns. As we age we expect to need more care and it is becoming more costly. Both of us are primarily covered by Medicare and secondarily by our respective BlueCross/BlueShield insurance, including prescription drugs, the latter insurance being free because each of us was employed by the State of New Jersey for more than 30 years . I understand that both Medicare and BC/BS won’t pay for health maintenance abroad. Nevertheless, they may cover a fraction for emergency treatment and/or hospitalization overseas. I have no doubt  that we can get comparable quality of treatment and drugs in thePhilippines as we do in the U.S..  However, we would be paying for most of the cost from our pockets and that could be a big expense. We can, of course, have health maintenance ( such as regular medical examinations) done while we visit our relatives here twice or so a year.

With respect to natural catastrophe there is definitely greater risk in the Philippines. Earthquakes, hurricanes (typhoons) and volcanic eruptions are a rarity in northeastern U.S.. However, snow/ice storms can be as hazardous not only to homes and property but also to life in terms of driving accidents.

The risk from polluted air and water and from tainted food is probably greater in the Philippines because there are stricter controls and enforcement in the U.S.. To some extent, exposure to these hazards can be reduced or prevented by observing common-sense precautions and exercising preventive measures such as boiling the water, properly preparing/ cooking foods and frequently washing or disinfecting one‘s hands.

There is no doubt that there is more instability, graft and corruption in the Philippine government than in the U.S. government. If we can rely on recent history as a guide, there appears to be little chance of a violent revolt or revolution in the Philippines. Moreover, I am a politically-neutral person and I do not expect to have any direct dealing with politicians. Political events may not have significant effect on me or my wife.

The high heat and humidity in Metro Manila and outlying provinces can overwhelm the body’s energy and quickly make one sweat profusely. This is particularly unbearable to us who have been accustomed to cold weather. Unfortunately this condition exists for most of the year with only slight relief from December through March. The remedy is the use of air conditioner, at least inside the home or any confined space. Another alternative is to live in places on high altitude like Tagaytay or Baguio, farther away from relatives and friends. Neither solution is completely satisfactory but they are viable options.

I started by trying to be as objective as possible in my search for the answer to the question to be or not to be a balik-bayan permanently. However, I must admit that many of the variables (both pros and cons) are very subjective and difficult if not impossible to measure. Some are even difficult to identify, let alone measure.

How does one measure the satisfaction that one gets from the knowledge that he is helping many poor people earn a living, help their families put rice on the table? How does one put a price on the happiness derived from being treated with utmost courtesy and hospitality? How much value does one assign to the thrill of being pampered like a royalty? Do you know? I don’t.

Even with the subjectivity, how do the pros and the cons stack up? There is no clear winner. They appear to be about equal. I am truly torn between two worlds.

HELP ME, PLEASE.