Gig in Japan 2: Unidentified Foreign Object

"You're Filipino? You don't look like a Filipino!"

This recent trip to Japan further highlighted this well-known but personally-often-ignored little factoid about me. Really, when I was growing up and even up to now, I was always convinced that I looked "like a native." That's why when people ask me to describe myself, I'd always say: "I look like the typical Pinoy."

But my travels abroad usually disprove this theory. When I met Mark's friends and schoolmates in IUJ, they all thought I was Central Asian. When I introduced myself to Father Bruno and said I was Filipino, his eyes widened and said: "You don't like a Filipino." Even my brother's brother-in-law (confusing, eh?) told me that the first time he saw me, he thought I was Hispanic.

For some people, this might be novel. But for someone who's been experiencing it for the past decade or so, it's actually quite disconcerting. Sometimes, it feels as if I'm a global foreigner. And sometimes I feel that i'm actually citizenless. This is actually a sad place to be in.

Even in Manila, I find myself being treated like a foreigner. I remember a taxi driver who tried chatting me up in English, and when I replied in Tagalog, he let out a huge: "Inakup! Pinoy ka!" Well, being treated like a foreigner isn't bad, if it's the "good" kind of treatment.

But there's the "bad" kind of treatment: when people are wary and intimidated by you, or, in the case of shopping, people think you've got a lot of dollars to spare. There was one incident in Greenhills when I was checking out an Abercrombie and Fitch hoodie, then asked the girl how much it was. She said: "P1,200 sir." Then my reply was: "Sis, medyo P500 lang yan sa Surplus shop. Baka puwede mo namang bawasan." Then she blushed and gave me my asking price.

Whilst it may be a bit irritating, looking like a foreigner has some perks. First, kids are friendlier, and that friendliness is probably anchored in fascination. In Japan, kids would actually play with me: they'd run up, make a face, i'd reciprocate, then the kid would shriek with glee and run away. This happened twice when I was with Mark: first was in the Daisho in Muikamachi, and the second was at Tokyo Disneyland. When I was in Kyoto, another kid was so fascinated with me that she just waved at me for 5 straight minutes.

Another good thing about being seen as a foreigner is that the locals appreciate it more when you try to speak their language. Everytime I'd say "Arigato Gozaimashta" after every transaction, I'd usually be greeted by a very wide smile. There was even an instance when an old shop owner held my face as if saying: "that's adorable." So whenever i'd practice the little Nihonggo I know, it's gratifying to see their faces of appreciation. (But then again, those may be faces of: "What the hell is this person trying to say?")

In the course of all my travels, there are actually just 2 places where I wasn't seen as a foreigner - the first being the Czech Republic. According to some people there (the hotel owner, the waitress at Fridays, one of the museum curators) I have Slavic features, and that's why they'd often try to speak to me in Czech. Strangely, though, this irritated Roland so I tried to keep my Slavic-ness low key.

Second is in Spain. Barcelona is the other place that feels like home. Whenever i'm there, I easily blend in. And thanks to the little Spanish I know, it's possible for me to fake being Spanish. That might be the reason why I like visiting Barcelona. It's one of the few places where I don't feel like a foreigner (even if technically, I am.)

Sometimes I find myself thinking of ways on how I can look more Filipino. The easiest way to change is by changing my color. But that doesn't work quite well. When I tried to get a bit dark, my client said I looked Dominican or Colombian.

Maybe I should just wear a "Pinoy ako" shirt everyday. Maybe that'll do the trick.