I Learned to Love Manila After Leaving Her

Christine Montilla Dorffi

(1) In the first five years I lived in the United States, I wasn't homesick for the Philippines at all. I thought
of Manila fondly, as one remembers an old boyfriend who was fun while it lasted, but not someone one
would want to commit to.

(2) One morning, however, I was awakened by an awful, fat sobbing in the heart, a terrible longing to be
home where the night air was warm and kind, the faces around me brown and friendly and the cadence
of conversation soft and teasing. Suddenly I felt like an alien in this land of white faces, large bodies, and
strong language.

(3) I suppose that my unease with the US had been quietly growing as I moved away from my break with
Manila. When I left in 1977, I was unhappy over many things for one, the paralyzing feeling that I could
never get ahead financially, never save enough to make a better life for myself Then there was martial
law, which devastated my choices as a writer. The tangled web of family commitments and the
smallness of Manila that forced me to make my mistakes in a glass bowl slowed me down, I thought.
And lastly, the cynicism with which my family and friends turned to me and yawned, "But that's the way
men are when I discovered my beloved had lied to me and unfaithful in hundreds of ways, infuriated
me.

(4) So I took my fury to clean, precise, and anonymous America and reveled in the contrast. With some
$700 in savings and a family to stay with, the US, opened up to me.

(5) It took me over three months to find a job, partly because I was being picky, Job-hunting is never a
joy, but it was doubly depressing to be constantly asked, "What kind of legal experience do you have?" A
classic Catch-22 situation. I was also stung when prospective employers congratulated me on my
"excellent English, unlike many Filipinos Others said I was too soft, not pushy enough-me, who, had
been chastised for being too blunt in Manila!

(6) That sensitivity was one of the first Asian traits I had to let go of. I had to learn not to take things
personally, even when I was being addressed-a strange and very Western concept. Mostly its the tone of
the timing that throws off me and other Filipinos I've discussed this with. As a whole, US culture just
doesn't have the time to concern itself with saving face or propriety of manner. The important thing is
efficiency, getting the job done. I cringe for the demure Filipinos in line at the butcher shop who request
their choices and are told, "Speak up! I can't hear you!"
(7) Fortunately, Asian manners are influencing America. What with Japan's and Korea's increasing
importance in international business, business people are having to learn the mores of differing cultures

(8) The other trait essential to discard was modesty. Because this culture is much less dependent on ties
of family and friendship, there is generally no third person to take the burden of broadcasting one's best
qualities. So I had to recognize my pluses and then unabashedly pull them forth for prospective
employers to examine. The good part is the relative absence of status: the worth with the company
president, lending a convivial atmosphere to many businesses. I had to learn not to call my supervisors
Mr. or Mrs, but Bob or Betty.

(9) A last paradox has to do with the dollar and the US. standard of living. We tend to make fun of
Americans for their insistence of Dutch treats, on paying their share and only their share. I think now
that it has to do with what one gives up to maintain the comfortable house, the new car, the clothes:
time.

(10) That time equals money is truer here than anywhere else, because if you are willing to put in the
hours, you can generally get ahead

(11) Living standards, however, also have to do with the logistics of life without helpers. After putting in
eight hours at work, one comes home to unmade beds, unwashed dishes, uncooked dinners. The
problems add up algorithmically when a spouse and children enter the picture.

(12) To live this well, then, we sacrifice the hours of our life. Each free hour becomes more precious. and
many US families withdraw into a kind of nuclear-family cocoon. I find few American men and women
who are willing to go into the time-consuming nurturing of extra-marital friendships. Their spouses are
their best friends, and that seem to be all the friendship they can afford. Perhaps I've idealized Manila,
but seem to recall a broader array of friendships there.

(13) After eight years in the United States, I feel more of an Asian than ever. But I am grateful to have
the choice to live in this society. It has helped me clarify what is important in life. Just as one needs to
grow away from one's parents to appreciate them as people, I had to distance myself from Manila to
leam to love both her perfumes and her odors, her breezes and her decay, her cloying smallness and her
affectionate pampering of her children.