DAY 431: Tagalog (pronounced ta-GA-log) is the official language of the Philippines, along with English. It is unlike any language in the world; at its roots it is a tribal tongue which some have described as "like Malay," except certain concepts and nouns are taken from Spanish to fill a void. When Ferdinand Magellan landed in the Philippines during his attempted circumnavigation around the globe -- The Global Trip 1520 -- soon came the Spanish colonialists who ultimately took over in their need for a trading port in southeast Asia. Magellan however, did not reap the rewards of such imperialism, nor did he celebrate a triumphant return back in Spain for he died in the Philippines, ending his Global Trip early.

The Spanish brought over many Western things the native Filipinos didn't have, and it is for those things that words of Tagalog borrows from the Spanish language. For example, shoes is zapatos in Tagalog, as it is in Spanish; we can assume that the early natives just went around barefoot in the pre-Magellan era. The word for crazy is loco, which is also Spanish; there were no crazy people in the islands until the Spanish came. Numbers exist in native Tagalog -- isa, dalawa, tatlo (one, two, three) -- but the concept of telling time was an implant of the Spanish; in Tagalog as it is in Spanish, one says, "alas dos" ("two o'clock"). Inherently the Filipinos have no concept of time, which is why most of them are usually late to appointments by 30-60 minutes, thus the ongoing joke of "Filipino Time."

AS MUCH AS I'VE JUST GONE THROUGH about Tagalog language just now, I'm afraid to admit that I can't really speak it, or rather, I can only say certain key phrases. Most of my comprehension of the language is aural only. Having been the first generation born in America, my parents didn't teach me Tagalog at an early age, the excuse being that it'd be too confusing for my developing American mind -- plus I was already inundated with Spanish, having being babysat by Puerto Ricans in the projects of 1970s midtown Manhattan. This may or may not be true, but I jokingly have this theory that they didn't teach me Tagalog so that they could still keep secrets from me, right in front of me, without me knowing. "[We'll hide the Christmas presents in the linen closet,]" they probably said. Or "[Let's have sex now and conceive markyt so Erik can have a little brother.]"

I think my conspiracy theory goes beyond my parents, because most of my first generation Filipino-American friends are in the same boat as me; they can sort of understand Tagalog but not really speak it fluently. "[Let's keep secrets from the kids,]" they all probably said to each other at Filipino community gatherings in the 1970s. "[Okay. Anyone want to play Parcheesi?]"

This is all I will write concerning my history with grasping Tagalog for now; I'm still trying to shake the image I accidentally planted in my head ten seconds ago of my parents having sex. Noooooooooooo!!!!

"YOU GUYS HAVE TO TEACH ME TAGALOG," I said to my cousins Raymond, Mary Ann and Ruby Ann when I entered their minivan. I was picked up in Greenhills by them and my Aunt Vicky and Uncle Ruben, who would take me to their home in the Manila suburb of Rizal. When stuck in Manila's incessant traffic, a pseudo-lesson in Tagalog began.

"This is Mary Ann, but you can call her Mase," Ruby Ann said. "Do you know mase?"

"What's that?"

"Gluttonous. Overeating," she said, teasing her chubby sister.

"No, I'm sexy," she jokingly retorted. Ah, the subtle rivalries amongst my teenage cousins.

Trying to learn Tagalog is hard, particularly at the ripe age of thirty. The brain's capacity to learn a new language decreases with age, so I've heard. Back in South America, I was able to learn Spanish (at the "younger" age of 29) because I had no choice; no one in South American really spoke English, not even in a limited capacity. Such is not the case in the Philippines because everyone knows English; it's taught in schools at an early age as it is the country's second official language, a legacy left over from the Philippines' days as a United States colony.

Yes, a colony; the thirteen original British colonies of American eventually grew and expanded to a nation "from sea to shining sea" so big that it started having its own wars and its own colonies. The United States bought the Philippines, along with Guam and Puerto Rico, from Spain for the bargain deal of $20 million, after the peace negotiations that ended the Spanish-American War. Americanization soon began under American Governor William Taft who dubbed Filipinos America's "little brown brothers." Furthermore, the Philippines were actually in contention to become part of the United States union, even before Hawaii was a contender, but Filipino patriots nixed that idea -- ultimately the Philippines got its independence in 1946.

If not for those patriots I might have been just "American," instead of "Filipino-American," although I'm sure I'd still be mistaken for Thai or Vietnamese.

THE AMERICANS DIDN'T GO WITHOUT LEAVING ITS LEGACY BEHIND, and by legacy I am referring to the shopping mall. Metro Manila boasts many big shopping malls, none as popular or as big as SM Megamall, the "must-see" for any shopping visitor in Manila, with its many shops, restaurants and even an indoor ice rink. It was there that we stopped in for lunch at one of many restaurants offering international cuisine -- we went out for Korean "hot pot," where one picks raw ingredients from a buffet and cooks them up to personal liking at a grill or pot on the table.

"[How many people?]" asked the hostess.

"Six."

Raymond pointed to Mary Ann. "No, seven."

"No, I'm sexy!"

After dining on pork, shark, shrimp, squid, rice and other delicacies, we walked around the mall for a bit and then drove off through the traffic of cars, jeepneys and motor-tricycles to the suburb of Rizal to their house, a fairly big place with dogs in the yard and turtles in a little pool. Like most Catholic Filipino households -- Catholicism is the major legacy of Spanish missionaries -- there were many Christian artifacts laying around in almost every room; when I took a dump, Jesus was staring down at me in the bathroom. In lieu of a Christmas tree, my relatives had a life-sized statue of Jesus in the Agony in the Garden rosary story. I swear, if you took all the Christian trinkets from all the Filipino households in the world, you'd have more than The Vatican.

That's not to say a Filipino household is a virtual monastery or nunnery; in this particular household, specifically in my cousin Ruby Ann's room, there were black curtains, posters of rock bands, bats and severed baby doll heads hanging from the ceiling, and spray-painted graffiti such as "Punk is not dead!" Also, on the other side of the house was the music room, with a drum set, bass guitar and keyboard for the urges of teen angst (picture above).

The rest of the day was a casual one. We set up the pool table on the porch so my uncle and I could play a couple of games. Meanwhile, Raymond was trying to figure out how to use the Panasonic D-Snap camera they had just gotten. It was hard to practice Tagalog because everyone would just revert to English if I didn't understand something.

My Uncle Ruben schooled me on the pool table, over and over and over again -- all my shots were pretty embarrassing -- and after five games I called it quits to learn some Tagalog with my cousins by the swing set. "So how do you say 'I suck at pool?'"

After some deliberation on how to translate "suck," they told me: "Tanga ako manglaro ng pool."

IT WAS A CASUAL SORT OF RELAXING DAY as I hung out with my relatives in the suburbs. My 22-year-old cousin Aileen stopped by, who I hadn't seen in five years. In those five years she had gotten married and popped out two cute girls, Melody and Melanie, the latter of which would call out "dede" ("breast") every five minutes for a feeding.

"Did you know I'm a cow?" Aileen said to me -- in English.

Eventually dinner was served at the dinner table, a typical Filipino meal of rice, fried fish and vegetable stews. I ate it the traditional Filipino way, without utensils, (similar to the way they eat in India and Nepal). If I couldn't talk like a Filipino yet, at least I could eat like one.

Now if I could only shake a certain image out of my head...

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