A Lesson in Geography

¿Hablar español?, a question that doesn’t surprise me anymore – whether it happens in the hospital corridors or exam rooms, grocery store, and the streets. I wish I could (I always blame the Department of Education’s decision to exclude Spanish class from the General Education program around the time I entered college; and when you’re a college freshman, learning a foreign language is the farthest thing on your mind). Not wanting to stretch the truth, shaking my head uttering “Sorry” is my response, after having previously uncovered the consequences of saying “Poquito”.

So when this Michael J. Fox-looking realtor who was discussing with me and my friend Prudy housing possibilities in Michigan asked me where I was originally from heard my usual reply of “Where do you think I came from?”, I thought he’d perhaps say, Mexico if he couldn’t figure it out. Afterall, there are more Hispanics in the area than Pinoys. Instead he said, “Hmm, Brazil?”

After correcting him, he proceeded to say, “Oh, well I was close enough.”

Close enough?! Hmmm, perhaps his definition of far is going to Mars. I conveyed a confused look.

“You know, it’s still one of the Latin countries.”

I suppressed a scornful laugh. “Actually, you need to cross the Pacific Ocean to get to my country from Brazil. It’s in Southeast Asia”.

It was clear it was his turn to get confused: “Oh.”

With a mental picture of the Philippines and her neighboring countries in my head, I explained, hoping it will trigger his memory (and perhaps believing everyone on earth knows where my country is located!): “South of Japan and Korea, near Hong Kong, Taiwan? Malaysia?” Still sporting a baffled look, I took the liberty to google a world map from the laptop sitting in the middle of the office table to show him exactly where the Philippines is.

And I thought I was poor in geography.

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A vintage version of a World Map poster adorns my living room. I will someday have it framed.

Road Trip

I used to think I do that daily during residency when I was living about 20 miles away from the hospital. I still enjoy long drives, but the daily grind is a different story. That's why when I was about to begin my fellowship over two years ago, I decided to move, to be closer. Since then, the only time I'd log on my car's mileage was whenever I go visit my relatives in the southwest suburbs. Or that time when I drove to Indiana for an interview. My longest road trip wasn't logged in my car. It was a red two-door chevy that my college pal helped me chose when I left LA to go back to Vegas back in 2001.

I was given a choice to fly. I almost said yes because I like lounging in the airport (best place to people watch!). But I remember the last time I was in Michigan, when the flight itself was only about 30 minutes but the wait in the airport killed me. And since the trip was arranged last minute, all they could find to fly me back was to go through Minneapolis before going back to Chicago -- total time of travel: 8 hours! I kept thinking to myself then, I should have asked for a rental instead. So I declined the offer, and prepared my almost 7-year-old Nissan for the almost 4 hour trip. Google maps estimated it to be around 193 miles away. Unaccounted for is the time that might be added to get there is from the huge construction going on in the Dan Ryan Expressway.

It's foggy out. But it shouldn't be so bad. I'm driving with Jon Bon Jovi.

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