Masbate, part deux.

I've changed a lot since the last time I've been to Masbate. I've matured and grown, and learned some necessary social skills. Truth to tell, though, it was one hard week of socializing. Some of it was fun and entertaining, while some of it was repetitive and tiring. As I've said before, I'm not much of a social person. I'd rather stay at home at nights and play Heroes on my computer rather than attend a celebration in a crowded discoteque or bar. During that week, I had to go out as much as possible and mingle with every relative that I meet.

Despite the apparent difficulty of this, however, I'd like to think that I learned a lot from and about them as much as they've learned a lot from and about me. During that week, I felt like Alex Haley in Roots. It was fascinating to find all members of my genealogy gathered in a single province. It was even more amazing to discover several interesting trivia about my ancestry. For instance, I found out that my great-grandfather (mother side) was a priest! And that's direct consanguinity, not merely affinity! Even the uncle who I'm closest to was named after him: Nicolas Escape!

Not only that: in Palanas, Masbate, there's actually a street named after my middle name (which, obviously, is my mother's maiden surname)! Escape Street! It runs across Pillejera Street, which is the surname of the husband of one of my aunts!

Not only that: both my grandparents, father side, were born on August 13! It's incredible, really. There's little chance of two people having the same birthdays marrying each other, but there's even less chance of them having an apo with the same birthday! It's surprising, though, that none of my parents have commented on this ever. Weird, right?

[I apologize for the exclamation points. Hee.]

The interesting information never ended. That part of the trip was great all around. But another great thing that happened to me was the realization that I was not alone. Sometimes, I have this not-so-nice feeling (I can't exactly describe it, but I know it's not positive, so I'll just go for "not-so-nice feeling.") when I think of the fact that I don't hear the surnames Sentillas or Escape mentioned anywhere. From Kindergarten names to College names to names being announced as future contestants in noontime TV shows to nursing passers to board passers to bar passers, I have not encountered a single Sentillas or Escape. It's disconcerting, to say the least. But when I went there, in the land of my forefathers, the overwhelming number of people sharing my middle and last names was, well, overwhelming. It made me feel like I'm part of a formidable force. Part of a strong army.

There is a but to this, though. The experience there was a blast, but I don't think I could have survived there all the same. The living conditions are far from eeeevil or inhospitable, but with the way I was raised, I don't think that I could have stayed there longer than necessary. I've seen difficult times (I went to an immersion with the Aetas in Zambales, if you recall), and Masbate was far from that, but my relatives were in not-so-wonderful times, all the same. This realization made me respect my parents even more. Almost all of their sisters and brothers stayed in Masbate, but they chose not to. Papa chose to expand his horizon, and Mama agreed to take the risk with him. It was a huge risk, to be sure: my father was only 20 when he married my mother. 20. Like my current age. It took a lot of courage to be able to pull oneself out of such hard times. I'm proud of my parents.

All in all, the Masbate experience was still a blast. I think I have repaired my reputation this time around, and I think I've undergone a major attitude shift. Never again will they appear distant to me. I come from their bloodlines, and I'm always going to be proud of that.