Do you hear what I hear?

The five senses sight, sound, touch, taste and feel.  Some of the reasons that make visiting a country in person much more rich than just reading about it or hearing about it second hand.  Which is what inspired me to write my last post "I Spy With My Little Eye" where I tried to record in words many things that my eyes have witnessed while living here.  And now I thought I would follow that post up with the many sounds my ears absorb as well.  Tell me, as you read….

…do you hear what I hear?

The rumble of diesel engines idling in traffic.  The constant honking of horns from experienced drivers as they weave their way through gridlock.  The startling sound of a siren, is it an ambulance? Which turns out to only be a  clever motorcyclist who installed a siren for his horn.  The loud booming of bass thumping out of a jeepney (i.e. jeeps converted as public transportation vehicles).  The blow of a whistle, as traffic enforcers stand amidst the chaos attempting to control flow of cars.

The rhythmic hum of electric fans as it isolates a room.  The white noise of a window unit “air con” (i.e. air conditioner), as it rumbles in a room and drowns out sounds from the rest of the house.

The loud buzz of mopeds and motorcycles as they zip down the road, reminding me of childhood vacations as they mimic the sound of jet skies on a lake.

The tap on outside of car windows by kids begging for money, and the response knock on the inside from the driver brushing off the child.

Advertisement slogans and jingles coursing through the supermarket speakers every 15 minutes at the nation’s largest chain, while all the employees respond by pausing from work for a few seconds to clap in unison and join in on the jingle.

Background music played while shopping, not merely for the ambiance but instead for the experience and enjoyment of the customers.  With customers unashamed as they sing along karaoke style while perusing the aisles looking for items on their list, with no worries who might overhear them.

The absence and silence of fast food chains not calling out to customers when their order is ready, instead a polite “your order is complete po” is uttered as the tray of food is brought to the customer’s table.

The pattern of work boots as a security guards rushes over to help the American mom who tried to carry her own groceries to her car.

The calling out of department store employees as they eagerly wait and hunt potential customer asking every passing customer in rhythmic tones “Good afternoon mam/sir how may I help you?”  While passing through a department store one can easily be greeted a dozen times as they walk from one department to the next.

Instead of a doorbell, the tap of a rock on an iron gate as a delivery man approaches a house while they call out loudly “tao po!” (i.e. “person please”) to anyone inside who might respond and come out and receive the delivery.

Neighborhood kids biking up to their friend’s house in the late afternoon, yelling out their friend’s name, “Jaaaaakkob!  Jaaaakob!” as they wait on the street outside the house gate in hopes that their friend heard the call to play.

Predictable and almost scheduled sounds of vendors walking their usual route through neighborhoods looking for customers.  The taho vendor passing around 8:30-9:00am calling out long and low “taaaaaHOOOOOOOO”.  The suman lady passing shortly after around 9:30-10:00am calling out in a melodic rhythm “suuuMAAAAN!”  The dirty ice cream vendor ringing his bell after school around 4:30pm.  The balut vendor riding his bike and calling out in a deep bass “baLUUUUUUt!” after the sun sets and the dishes from dinner are being washed and put away around 8:00pm. (Taho is a warm snack made of silken tofu and brown sugar syrup.  Suman is a snack made of sweet sticky rice pressed together.  Dirty ice cream is ice cream made of water buffalo milk, mixed with some flour to help prevent melting, often served on hamburger buns.  Balut is a fertilized duck embryo.)

The sounds of stray cats hissing and mewing loudly as the fight each other to see which one will get to keep the dead rat for dinner.

The startling rumble of uncoordinated creatures running on the celling panels of the house, trapped between the roof and the ceiling.  An American wife trying to act brave as she asks her husband, “what was that?” A large rat doing its nightly exercises?  Or perhaps a stray cat chasing it’s dinner?

The hiss of gas as it’s released from the propane tank when the safety valve is opened.  The click of the starter and the flap of the flame when the stove comes to life, ready to start cooking dinner.

Large trashcan sized pail filling with water, getting ready to give the kids their nightly baths.  The splash of water as a large “tabo” (i.e. a dipper, small bucket with a long handle) is used to scoop up water from the pail.  The sound of the water from the tabo being dumped over the head of kids.  The screams of shocked foreigners getting used to the lack of warmth in the temperature of the water.  And the American Mommy apologizing to her shivering kid saying, “oops! Sorry was that cold?”

The off tune sound of someone proudly belting out their favorite song on karaoke somewhere in the neighborhood.  And the sound of karaoke as it continues on throughout the night as one drifts to sleep, giving an excuse to turn on the air con in hopes the white nose will drown out the kareoke.

The early morning chants of a priest giving mass filter through my windows as I pour my morning coffee before the sun rises.

The deafening sound of rain as it pours down in amounts unbelievable to a Southern Californian raised girl, as it bounces off roofs made of tin and runs down the gutters faster than the drains can keep up.  The plastic echo of rain drops reflecting off an open umbrella.  And a faint content giggle of the Southern Californian girl.

Radio stations that make me reminisce about my high school years in the 90’s.  Other songs that remind me of my Dad singing along with his favorite songs from the 50's and 60's.  Still more songs that I love but haven’t heard in years.  Totally 80’s music easily found on radio stations daily.  And amazingly enough all of the music are ones you magically know the words to but aren’t sure why. Music that you want to stand up and sway to, laugh to, and swing your hips in rhythm as it calls out for all who hears to sing along.  Radio stations that make driving in traffic fun as you have karaoke on wheels.

The sound of laughter.  The squeal of joy.  The giggle of children.  The rumble of happiness amongst groups of friends and family that calls out for inclusion, and that overpowers and drowns out seemingly hard times.

So turn the radio up and sing along.  “It’s more fun in the Philippines!”