Sometimes, Chinese is the Only Way to Go.

Much weirdness this week. I know I've been remiss in my blogging duties, so I figure I'd post something again to keep people in the loop.

Just a little anecdote I wanted to share from work this week.

A co-worker and I were off to speak with the IT guy of a certain school with regards to their website. We got there and got down to business.

The IT guy is formally dressed, crisp white shirt and black pants. His demeanor was equally formal and we didn't spend much time exchanging pleasantries.

The work was fairly simple, a slight modification job to invite more foreign nationals to take their masteral courses in the school, primarily Chinese and Korean nationals.

"You see," the guy explained, "the reason we're doing this is because 10% of all the foreign students we have here are Chekwa."

Chekwa. Not something I've heard in a while, but I do know that it's a derrogatory term for those of my racial background. I guess that the closest thing that I can compare the term to is to call African-Americans "Niggers", Latinos as "Wetbacks" and Asians as "Chinks".

Now I'm Chinese, even if I don't look like it to some people. Maybe my eyes are a little larger than the stereotype, I don't know. Anyway, I bristled slightly at the comment and let it pass. I'm professional about work.

Anyway, halfway through the meeting he does a double take and asks me, "Uh... are you Chinese by the way?"

I smile, "Yes. Both my parents were Chinese."

I watch his facade break slightly, realizing his earlier remark and what kind of impression it makes.

I keep smiling.

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To be fair to the rest of the Philippines, the people here are hardly racist. It's just that there are some undercurrents of it, that don't stop people from working with each other, but do breed some form of stereotyping and skewed expectations.

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Roach Fu!

To continue recounting the strange adventures of this week, I've also been nearly attacked by a particularly aggresive flying cockroach. I was on my PC when I noted something black fly over to my side of the room and perch on the electric fan. The rest of my family were all on the other side of the room and I called their attention to it.

"Crap! There's a roach!" the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I hate roaches. I get up from my seat, watching it as it positions itself pivoting on it's legs, it's antennae wriggling grossly in my direction.

A heartbeat.

It opens the wing case on it's back and take flight like a dart straight towards me!

"Get the hell away from me you flying freak!" I shout.

It flew low, just under knee level. The rest of my family was watching as it took off. On instinct I raised one leg and stomped down on it, catching it in mid-air and driving it's body to the ground. I lift up my leg and it's there, it's wing case open, wings splayed open like a butterfly on display.

An oily, gross 2 inch long butterfly.

I hate roaches.

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Right now I'd like to take a moment to thank my Arnis instructor, Sir Ariel, who taught me the value of footwork, and drove home the point that I was getting fat. :)