the philippines: a karaoke culture

So it’s been quite a while since my last post/email/rant about my time abroad and I think, considering my current circumstances, writing a post now is appropriate.

See, since I returned from Laos last Sunday, I’ve jumped headfirst into my own research for my thesis. Considering I imagined it would take the entire month to schedule and conduct 4 focus groups, I’m glad to know that I’m currently on my 3rd.

So in the Philippines, I’ve learned the hard way that emails can only go so far. Considering that the entire country still uses Yahoo, it goes to show the datedness of their email technologies, especially considering that most government administrators can only be reached by email address with words like “love,” “sweetie,” or “2002,” you also get the idea that email isn’t really a preferred or serious mode of communication. In a warped, casual formality that I’ve only experienced here, the most appropriate and quickest way of contact is via text message.

For me, a common text usually involves queries about what time I’m meeting friends at a bar or reflections on how hungover I was the next morning. Here, in the Philippines though, it’s completely normal to get the Executive Director of the Board of Nursing’s cell phone number and shoot her a quick text to set up a meeting the next day. Talk about formal introductions when I’m economizing on letters:

“Gud am [‘am’ as in ‘morning’] Ms. ______. This is Roland Dimaya, grad student [trust me I wanted to abbreviate to ‘stud’] frm Yale. I rcved your nfo frm Dr. ____, can we pls meet tmrw? Where can I find ur ofc? Thx!”

Expecting a reply like “WTF?” if I had sent this to a Yale administrator, I was surprised by Ms. ______'s curt reply:

“9am tmrw. C u den.”

And this is just an example of a Philippine cultural tidbit that I will never understand.

I don’t mean for this post to point the finger at Filipino nationals and, as a Filipino-American, say, “Gross, how weird are you?” But in the ways that I’ve tried to acculturate myself to the homeland of my parents, these are experiences on which I can’t help but reflect. Of course, my posts while in Laos, in retrospect, scream ign’t Amurrican tourist, isn’t that what most ‘Travel Blogs’ or ‘Summer Abroad Blogs’ are for, questioning and grasping to understand the environment that we put ourselves in?

Let’s continue. Since I’ve been back, I’ve attempted to make a nearby Starbucks my home to do my work/write my emails/browse the internet, more or less to get out of the prison confines of my house, but also to just sink into anonymity among the Filipinos (more on this phenomenon in another post). Next to this Starbucks, I found a supermarket, perfect for my Dorito, apple and PB, and ice cream fix. Frequenting this supermarket to replenish my supplies, I’ve encountered more than once another phenomenon that pleads exploration.

Karaoke.

I know. Of all subject matters, karaoke is quite possibly the most jaded and banal of Asian activities that Westerners have trouble understanding. But my surprise doesn’t come in the idea of karaoke or one’s willingness to embarrass oneself in front of friends. Hell, I love karaoke, give me a Creed song and I’ll sing the damn thing, with arms wide open.

What you must realize, my friendly readers, is that I do not mention karaoke in a social setting. I do not mention it as an activity done while drunk. I mention it as I’m discussing grocery shopping.

See, as I enter the SM Supermarket, right next to the shopping cart retrieval area, is a young employee, suited up in her SM outfit, looking more like a Jetsons-space-cadet than a grocery attendant, belting out her best version of “Halo” by Beyonce. As if the song itself isn’t annoying and cheesy as it is, it doesn’t help that this young woman’s accent terribly overrides any melodic abilities she may carry deep within the depths of her soul.

But again, my amazement isn’t in her ability (or rather, inability) to sing; my amazement is in WHY? Why, at a public supermarket (as if there are private ones?) in the middle of rush hour, is this employee singing karaoke? Is SM advertising the karaoke system? If so, where are the price tags? And even moreso, why is EVERYONE acting like this is completely normal? I stand there, just laughing and wondering what is going on, while others simply watch this employee sing like she’s Beyonce herself.

My next anecdote is fresh from yesterday. After starting the first session of boxing training with a friend from Georgetown (ya Pacquiao, watch yourself), we decided to grab a bite. As he went to exchange money, I wandered in the area and found myself in a video arcade/karaoke/movie theater complex. How did I know karaoke was involved? Well, aside from the sign that said ‘Karaoke,’ their karaoke rooms were constructed with plate glass walls, allowing you to see, in full 360 degree view, the person(s) singing away.

This instance clearly boggled my mind. In the karaoke room, sat a Filipina teenager, not older than 18, a little more than overweight and not afraid to hide it. I couldn’t discern what song she was attempting to verbalize, nor could I hear her, but what intrigued me was that in this plate-glass room, this girl simply sat, slouched singing her song. Maybe this is just my American perspective, and moreso my tendencies when I’m intoxicated (more on this in another amusing post), but if attention were drawn to me, as being in a plate-glass room tends to do, I would be putting on quite a show. Singing, gyrating, and making a fool of myself, albeit most likely in an altered state of mind.

Why then, was this most likely low self-esteem ridden teenager just slumping and hiding herself while she sang? What was the purpose of her even partaking in the horror that is karaoke? As I said to my friend, why not just listen to the song on your iPod and sing to yourself?

Why does she, and most other Filipinos, put herself on display (a display not at all that dazzling or performance level)?

I’m really not sure what it is, in the Filipino mentality or character, that allows for this release of inhibition, of guard, among people who are generally reserved. Maybe it’s a deep-seeded desire to be among those few Filipinos ‘discovered’ among the masses a la Charice (with that annoying song called ‘Pyramid’ which really has nothing to do with ancient Egypt at all). In some ways, I can’t knock it. It’s a certain degree of hope, a constant ambition that, even though you’re a shopgirl at the local grocery store or a young boy selling cigs on the street, you just may impress someone who could launch you into Filipino stardom.

Just watching Filipino TV (which I can’t stand for more than 5 minutes at a time – more on this later), the celebrities here aren’t particularly attractive. They’re just reallllllllly light-skinned. Just take a barrio boy or a provinciana girl, give em a haircut, some whitening cream and a microphone and you have an instant celebrity. In the same ways as American reality TV has created stardom and celebrated people who really don’t do anything, the Philippines has taken to unearthing diamonds in the rough – whether for the person’s betterment or ridicule is subjective.

Any continuation of my analysis of Filipino celebrity will digress into a whole other post, so I’ll quit while I’m ahead.

Trying in some way to tie up this post without wholly criticizing Filipinos in a way that begs American superiority, I’m finding that most of what really irritates me in this country, in some way, is tied to the Filipino ideal of hope, and possibly a sense of false hope, for what seems to be a better country, government, economy, education, health, and labor system. Whether the Philippines will achieve these goals and see prosperity, I guess, like the Filipinos themselves, I can only hope.