little american brother

My brother's home...or should I say he's here, away from home. (Aggregate time stayed in the Philippines: A little over a year. And he's 19.) He's all poised to take the American nursing labor pool by storm. "I'm gonna make a lot of money there, Ate," he told me yesterday. I realized that in both real and nominal terms, he's got more money in the bank than I do, and he's a student.

Anyhoo...he's having a difficult time picking up girls here. "Pinays are such prudes!!! What kind of a dance bar is that? Everyone just stands there and stares at each other!!! I can't believe girls are so clueless about 'how 'ya doin'?" (In his best Joey Tribianni voice.)

He goes on and tells me, "I'm so hot in the States. All the girls find me exotic...they think I'm Samoan or something because I'm big." (He's six feet tall, by the way.)

"They also think that because I'm Asian, I must be really good in math...one time 30 kids copied my test answers for math, and those 30 kids failed." Sigh.

"And what's the deal here with the showers? How come you gotta scoop up the water with that tabo thing?!" Er, we're grateful for Manila Water for giving us running water 24/7.

"Wow, it's so liberating here...I can order beer without fear of deportation...." Hmm...yeah, well, my five-year old orders a whole case from the corner store. And that's in broad daylight.

"And since I came here, my boogers' been a weird dark color. Yuck." Ayan, kasi nagco-commute ka.

Ahhh...there's no place like home.