Cebuano Phrase Book Poetry

The "poem" below is from pg 23 of Conversational Cebuano Made Easy. (Of course the book does include translations for each sentence, but I thought it was funny to imagine the string of sentences as one thought process.)

In Letter Writing

Hello!
How are you?
I miss you very much!
Hope you are in a good condition.
Have you received my letter last week?
Why did you not answer it?
This is my second letter to you.
Please, write me.
Please, answer my letter.
Please, remember me.
I'm glad to recieve your letter.
I'm so happy reading your letter.
I'll really be glad to recieve anything from you.
You mean so much to me.
Regards to all of you.
Please, extend my regards to your parents.
Till then. I'll write you again.

McWorld

Quentin Tarantino popularized the discussion about the worldly variety of McDonald’s. I hear that McDonald’s in India doesn’t have hamburgers and I know that the North American health craze has given birth to salads and wraps at the headquarters of fat. Well, I have discovered that the Philippines is no exception to the influence of local culture on the McMenu.

If there is one thing that people here eat at practically every meal (and that’s including breakfast, Granny) it is rice. It’s not surprising then, that the McMenu here contains fried chicken and rice. It’s strange that it contains pasta and tomato sauce with a few sections of unidentified sausage, but that’s another story. What does surprise me, however, is the McRice Burger. No, it’s not a warm, soft rice cake. It’s not even a veggie burger held together with sticky rice. The rice-patty portion of the burger takes the place of the bun! Sandwiched between the two rice-patties is the usual hamburger or chicken burger.

I’ve decided that I can’t let my stay in the Philippines pass by without giving this one a try. It’s so alluring; it draws my attention like a highway accident. I want to know what the texture of the “bun” is like. Does it stick together or fall apart? Will I end up eating it in phases, the inner patty first and then afterwards a plate of rice made of fallen bun-bits? Will my fingers get sticky? Will I love it so much that I’ll never be able to eat a regular burger again? Will the McRice Burger be the food I miss the most when I return back to Canada? I’m McDying to find out.

First Impressions

An orchid-necklace welcome at the airport. Hot sun, hot air. Breathing deisel soup. Fried pork fat. A pillow that, like carbon turning to charcoal deep beneath the earth, becomes hard and solid over time. Unexpected up-to-date American TV shows. American fast-food chains. Impashioned religiosity and belief in God, delicate. Small ants that can carry very large things. Heavy, short rains. Colourful Jeepneys for 6 pesos (12 cents) to go anywhere in the city. Noisy air-conditioner. Missionaries. Green trees everywhere. Rivers of garbage with a little bit of water. Shack homes along the rivers. Lots of smiles. Lots of questions. Strange but charming cell phone texts, so many, unexpected. Sun shining through rising smoke. Prayer candle tears. Arms straight and verticle in the air, hands at 90 degrees, waving to the golden Santo Nino idle. A blue guitar. No toilet paper in any washrooms, and if you have some don't flush it down the toilet. Fancy cars and beater cars. Noisy shopping malls. Children staring, then giggling and pulling on their mothers' arms when I smile back. Powdered milk. Time stretching and contracting each minute of the day. Concurrent loneliness and overstimulation. Morning birds chirping outside my window.