Life in These United States
(Excerpted from The Filipino Americans (1763-Present): Their History, Culture, and Traditions, 2nd Edition, by Veltisezar Bautista. Copyright 2002.

Upon arrival, a new Filipino immigrant to the United States seems to realize that he or she is in another world. He comes to a strange land with strange people. “So this is America?” he may ask himself or herself. Why did I come here? Have I made the right decision to leave my country, my relatives, and friends? What kind of life shall I have here? There are so many questions to be answered.

When my wife and I disembarked from a Pan Am plane on March 13, 1976, in Honolulu, Hawaii, I shouted to myself, “America, here I come! You have to realize your American dream.”

After we got the necessary papers—declaring that we were already legal residents in the United States, we enplaned for Santa Ana, California.

My wife and I temporarily stayed with my wife’s brother. For a few days, I was sleepy during the day and awake at night. What a strange feeling! Later, I was informed that this kind of thing was called jet lag. That is, if it’s noon in America, it’s midnight in the Philippines; therefore, a new arrival here feels sleepy during the day.

I. THE FIRST FEW MONTHS

Well, those were the days I can’t forget. First I tried to get a job in Santa Ana, California. Every day I rode a bus going to places with only one ticket at a time—transferring from one bus to another—using the same ticket. There was nothing like that in the Philippines. In my old country, if you rode a bus, paying the fare, and then transferring to another bus, you had to get a new ticket and pay it.

After failing to get a job for a few days, I went to Los Angeles, California. Every day I pounded the pavement of Los Angeles—at first trying to apply for a newspaper job in that city as a proofreader or a reporter. I had a resume saying many good things about my experience as a journalist in the Philippines, having been a staff member of the editorial staff of The Manila Chronicle, one of the largest English dailies in Asia. But there was no newspaper job. Then, how about another job—even as a typist. No job yet; I was frustrated. There were days when there were tears in my eyes as I continued to pound the pavements of Los Angeles. I always thought of the five children (the eldest being 14 years old) we left behind in the Philippines. “Why did I come here?” I asked myself.

At Last, A Job! Well, finally, I got a job in Irvine, California (a neighboring city of Santa Ana), not as a journalist, but as a typist (the official appointment was secretary), belonging to a pool of secretaries. Mind you, I was the only male—all females around me. They were surprised to see a good and fast male typist. What made me happy was that they would always ask me the spelling of words they didn’t know how to spell.

Don’t Walk! Don’t Walk! My wife and I had a wonderful experience. The street was wide with four lanes. When the “Walk” signal started to flash, my wife and I started to walk.

But when we were about in the middle of the street, halfway to the other side of the street, the signal light turned to “Don’t walk! Don’t walk,” so we turned back to where we started. Then when the traffic light again began flashing the “Walk” signal, we began again to walk.

“Here we go again!” I told myself. But for the third time, when we were already halfway to the other side of the street, the signal light again warned, “Don’t walk! Don’t walk!”

I shouted to my wife, “Run! Run! Run!”

Temporary Stay. As I’ve mentioned, we stayed first with my wife’s brother during the early months of our American life. This is how some Filipino immigrants do it. But when the expatriates find jobs, they look for an apartment to be on their own. Of course, there are Filipino arrivals who immediately rent their own apartments as soon as they arrive. In the case of my wife and me, we had only a few dollars in our pocket, so we could not afford to rent an apartment.

A Helping Hand. After a six-month stay in Santa Ana, California, we decided to move to Detroit, Michigan, upon the invitation of a relative. My wife wanted to find a job in the medical field in preparatory to reviewing for an examination before she could apply for residency training as a physician.

We rented a one-bedroom apartment in downtown Detroit, where many Filipino immigrants lived. In other words, we went to a Filipino community.

The other Filipinos there were so kind to us. A nurse lent us a television, another person offered a radio set, and another one offered some kitchen utensils. A neighbor became our friend and guide to places in the city, driving us every day and pointing out where the churches and the departments stores were, and where we could go for leisure hours or entertainment.

(Yes, generally, the life of new arrivals is like this, especially when they have not found work yet. Then after locating jobs, they buy their own cars and began to get a credit card. Of course, that one credit card becomes two, three, four, five or more.)

Getting a Driver’s License. To many Filipinos, getting a driver’s license is a great experience; I was not an exception. As soon as we arrived in California, my wife’s brother, although I was already a Manila driver, gave me lessons in American driving. He thought me how to change lanes, when to come to a complete stop, and whatever I needed to pass a driving test.

The date for my driving test came. When the examiner already was sitting beside me in the car, I pretended to adjust the rear mirror. Then I drove. After a few minutes, the examiner told me to go back to where the Secretary of State office was. I failed the test! He said I was a reckless driver and didn’t know how to make a complete stop. What could I do, I thought I was driving in the clogged traffic of Manila, where you could be an expert driver. If you’re not a “good” driver in Manila, you’ll spend hours in traffic. As I then told some people, “The Manila driver failed in the driving test!”

When my sister-in-law, Emma, took her first driving test, the examiner told her after a few minutes driving, “Go back! You scared me to death!” Wow, what an experience for her!

Made in America. Naturally, immigrants know that relatives and friends in the Philippines await words as to what and how they are doing in America. So it’s only natural for many Filipinos to stand beside their first car and to have someone take a picture of them and the car. “Hey, this is our first car in America!” they seem to say with smiles on their faces.

What’s the Use of an Umbrella? One day, when we were still in California, my wife was walking down the street with an umbrella in her hand, when a little boy said, “It’s gotta be raining!”

No, it was not raining then or going to rain. It was a bright sunny day; it was summer.

My wife was not protecting herself from the rain; she was protecting herself from the sun; she didn’t want the sunlight to darken her skin! Yes, in the Philippines, we use the umbrella not only when it’s raining but also when the sun is shining bright.

Those Were the Days. In the latter part of the 1970s, I had days when drivers stopped and offered me a ride (while I was going) home.

“Do you want a ride?” they would ask.

“No, thank you, my home is just a mile away,” I would say.

When we moved from California to Detroit, Michigan, I expected that drivers there, too, would be kind to give me a ride. I would even flag drivers to give me a ride but not one obliged to do so. What a difference. Those were the days!

“Philippine Sandwich, Where Are You?” One day when my wife got hungry, she said that we should go to a restaurant. She saw the menus on the wall. There was something there that said “Phil Sandwich.”

“I want a Philippine sandwich,” my wife told the waitress.

“No,” I whispered to her. “There’s no Philippine sandwich here.” We later learned that “Phil sandwich” meant “Philadelphia sandwich.”

II. THE LIFE IN AMERICA?

Filipino life in America revolves around the husband and wife, the children, and sometimes the parents of one side or even both sides. If the wife is a nurse, she may work from 8 to 16 hours a day, depending on the workload in the hospital. But now, the 16 hours of work is usually gone because many hospitals are merging or closing. If the couple has young children, the husband and wife usually work during different shifts.

If the husband is working on the day shift, then the wife may be working on the night shift. They are lucky, of course, if they have parents living with them. The parents usually become baby-sitters, especially if they are really old and can’t work anymore. And the lolas (grandmothers) and lolos (grandfathers) enjoy doing the care-taking job. Or maybe, if they have no parents living with them, either the husband or the wife takes the small children to and from a day-care center.

If the family has no time or is too lazy to cook, sometimes the husband or wife or both just buy cooked food from their local Filipino restaurant. Also, some small Filipino stores or bake shops have their own mini-restaurants which they call turo-turo (meaning “point-point” or just point it, ready to eat cooked food). They can eat the food there or take it home. What a nice way to eat.

Sharing Household Work. In the Philippines, cooking, doing the laundry, and cleaning the house are not a problem. There, you may get domestic help at low cost.

Here in America, it’s different. Husband and wife usually share work in the kitchen, laundry room, bedrooms, and more.

But one thing that I have not learned is doing the laundry. One time, my daughter told me that she would like me to learn how to operate the washing machine.

I told her, “Janet, I don’t want to learn that.”

“It’s easy, Daddy,” she insisted.

“No, I don’t want to learn it,” I answered.

Of course, I can do that laundry thing; it’s that easy. But thinking probably that there were then two women in the household, the women should be the ones doing it. I have other important things to do.

Let Me pay! Let Me Pay! In the Philippines, when you invite anyone to a restaurant or any eatery, you are expected to pay the bill. Or sometimes, when you are with a group of relatives or friends, you may call the waiter and ask for the bill. As soon as the waiter comes, someone may also try to get the bill. And another, may say, “Let me pay! I’ll pay!” Or another may try to pull out his wallet from his pocket. This Filipino trait was brought to America by Filipinos from the Philippines.

As an example, when I was working at the Chrysler stamping plant in Warren, Michigan, more than 20 years ago, we usually would go to work at the same time. Or we would have a meeting place at Hardee’s, where we would take a snack.

At first, one of us would pay, saying “I’ll pay!” Or maybe, sometimes, two of us would try to pull out our wallet from our pockets to make the payment.

Later, we abandoned this Filipino practice. It was because there were times, that when it was not your turn to pay, you would not want to order an item that was too costly. So one day, someone suggested, “I think from now on we should pay our own food.” Yes, from that day on, we abandoned that Filipino practice, and it was Dutch treat—order what you want and pay for it.

Filipino Parties. Have you gone to a Filipino party lately? If not, and if you’re not a Filipino, you’re missing something. Arrange to go to a party of a Filipino friend, and you’ll know what I mean.

When there’s a Filipino party, expect to see an abundance of food on the table. There you may see pancit (the filipino style of cooking noodles) On that day, you’ll forget eating spaghetti. Many non-Filipinos, Americans or non-Americans, whether they are white or black, like it. There may be adobo (pork marinated in vinegar, garlic, source soy, and spices). There may also be Philippine rice cakes and other delicacies. And you may hear the host say, “Go back to the table and eat some more! (if it’s a buffet). It’s nice to eat egg rolls, or adobo, especially with rice. Yes, even pancit is eaten with rice. (But it can be eaten by itself; no rice.) Filipinos like to eat rice. In fact, I’ve been eating rice since I was born many years ago. So I’ve eaten lots of rice in my life. Rice is said to be good for the body; it gives more energy, staying long in the stomach. Some also say that because of rice, Filipinos don’t age fast; they don’t look their age. That is, they look younger as compared with other people of the same age. So better try eating rice.

When the party is done, the host may tell the visitors, “There are lots of food. Take some food home!” And there they go; they get trays or whatever and select the food they want. And if you’re reluctant to get some food, the host may do the selecting for you. We call that pauwi (something to be taken home).

Let’s Go Fishing. In the Philippines, people don’t usually go fishing for enjoyment. But it’s different in the United States, where many Filipino Americans during weekend, especially during the summer, go fishing to while away time and to enjoy! They go fishing, not necessarily to catch fish for lunch or dinner, but to have a leisure time for themselves. It’s because if they just want to have enough fish for food, they just will go to a grocery or a Filipino store to buy it. Of course, if they catch enough fish, they have to eat them, or give some to friends. What a way of life.

Tournaments, Tournaments! Many Filipinos organize bowling and basketball games tournaments. During the summer, they engage in these activities during which prizes are awarded to individuals and team winners or whatever. Also, during the summer, many Filipino Americans’ leisure time is playing golf. During these activities, they ask each other “Kumusta?” (How are you doing?). They engage in conversations, talking about their visits to the Philippines or how their children are doing.

Door-to-Door Shipments. Many Filipinos send so-called Balikbayan boxes (loaded with goods for relatives) to the Philippines through carriers such as Bayanihan Cargo International. Boxes, no limit in weight, are usually taken to Filipino stores throughout the country, and they are shipped to a carrier in California, Illinois, and other states to be taken by ships to different parts of the Philippines. These boxes may contain canned goods, garlic, onions, new and old clothes, and anything else that maybe of use to Filipino Americans’ relatives back home.

The shipments, of course, are cleared through customs in the Philippines by companies that took the goods to the old country or by their associates at the waterfront.

Dollars! Dollars! It’s not unusual for a Filipino American to ask, “Is there someone who’s going home to the Philippines?” That is, if someone is visiting his or her relatives in a locality in the Philippines, he or she would like to send dollars (green money or checks) to people back home. “No packages, please, just money!” the visiting man or woman may say. “We have already many boxes to take home!”

Of course, money can be also sent to the Philippines through remittance centers such as Philippine National Bank’s remittance centers throughout the United States. And of course, in cases of emergencies, money can be sent by telegraphic transfers; that is from local banks to banks in any towns or cities in the Philippines.

Philippines, Here We Come! To Filipino Americans, going home to the Philippines is an exciting and memorable experience. But before the excitement and happy days, they usually think about it first. Of course, they are not worried much about the cost of flying, but of the pasalubongs (things to be given as gifts to relatives or fiends in the Philippines).

In 1987, after almost 11 years of living and working in the United States, we decided to go home to visit our country and people. In the eve of our departure, my wife packed things up to five o’clock in the morning. Each package was marked with names of who would get the gift. In that way, we would not miss any close relative to be the recipient of a pasalubong.

What do Filipino Americans feel when they visit the old country? From our experience we’ve learned that when we go home, we are excited and happy, but when we come back to America, we are sad and exhausted. In the plane, while on the way to the U.S. we recollect the moments we shared with relatives and friends we have visited, the things we talked about (the bygone days and life in the Philippines), and the places we visited.

Whenever my children recall their days spent in the Philippines, they would say that, “Why do we always eat in the Philippines? We eat in the house (of a relative), we eat in the malls, and we eat in several houses we go to?” In spite of that too much eating, my children like to go back home for a visit.

This is what Filipino Americans do and think about going home for a visit, especially now that the peso conversion was about fifty pesos to a dollar at the time of this writing.

III. THE LAST JOURNEY

The majority of Filipino immigrants started to come the United States in the 1960s. And they were young professionals: doctors, nurses, engineers, accountants, medical technologists and more. My wife and I came here in March 1976. Our five children followed us in July 1977, giving us a year’s time to settle down and to prepare for our new life and future.

Today many of those immigrants who became naturalized U.S. citizens and have started retiring from regular jobs. We are not an exception.

Upon arrival in America, Filipino families, usually rent an apartment in a metropolitan city. Then if they can afford it, they move to the suburbs to buy houses of their own.

Then years pass, and the young children grow up; finish college and have their own jobs. They are on their own.

Downsizing. Our own family has downsized. All our children, except one, are gone. One is in New York, another is in Virginia, and another one is in Illinois. Our only girl, Janet, had her own house built in Warren, Michigan.

We used to live in a detached condo in Farmington Hills, Michigan. Since our children had left us, we downsized our house. But before we decided to sell our house, we had a two-bedroom condo built in the city of Warren, Michigan. We later moved to an assisted-living facility in Virginia, and we sold our condo. We didn’t like living in the assisted-living complex, so we had to move to Illinois, to stay with our son, Ronald, and his family.

My wife and I are now retired from our regular jobs. Unfortunately, our third son, divorced his wife, whom he met in the Philippines in 1997, and married her in the same year. They divorced when the marriage broke down due to incompatibility. Divorce is not allowed in the Philippines, but this is America. This son of ours sold the house they built, and decided to live with us again in Warren, to give him time to plan for his future. Now he lives temporarily with our daughter, Janet.

Yes, this is the way of life in America. When the kids are gone, having their own families, the growing-old couples, who may be facing retirement or have already retired, usually sell their big house and move to a small house or condo.

Growing Old in America. In the Philippines, old people don’t worry about their situation or who will take care of them when they grow old and get sick. Besides members of the immediate family, there are many relatives who can take care of them. And it’s very affordable to hire household help.

But not in America.

“Oh! I’m growing old!” a man or woman may say. “I don’t want to stay in the nursing home. That’s a lonely place.”

At first, many old men or women may plan to go home to the Philippines for good. Of course, for them, they don’t want to die in America. Even those who are growing old here at first, want to go back to the old country.

In fact, even though many Filipino Americans are not yet ready for retirement, they always talk about it when they are having a picnic, having a party, or just engaging in conversations. “Where are you retiring?” they ask each other.

When they are still young, thinking of retirement, they usually talk about retiring in the Philippines. There, they will just play golf, visit relatives and old friends, eat in the big malls, and travel and see the scenic spots of the country. With the dollars they saved, and the good exchange currency rate, they can have a happy life in the old country.

But wait! When they begin to experience pains in the back and in knees and joints, and the hair continues to turn gray, they normally change their minds. What if they get sick? Medicare cards can’t be used in the Philippines. If they have a heart attack in the province, and they plan to go to Manila or to any hospital in a big city, such as Cebu City or Davao City, they may be declared DOA (dead on arrival). Traffic! Traffic! And there’s no 911 you can call over there. That’s the problem.

Later, they decide to stay in their adopted country, the United States. Yes, they will just retire in America. But where in America? They ask? They mention Arizona, Nevada, Florida, South Carolina, and any sunny state in America.

(End of Excerpt. For more info, about The Filipino Americans, click here.)