When I was ten, the best word that describes the Filipino, according to my social studies teacher, is HOSPITABLE. We give so much of ourselves – even our beds and our comforts just to make sure visitors are happy. My mother was (is) the epitome of the perfect Filipino host. She would go to lengths to make sure the visitor is comfortable – even to our discomfort but hey, we take it as it is. We welcome everyone. That’s home.
Growing up, I began being hospitable myself – ensuring that tourists, visitors, and friends are well taken cared of when they see my town or when we travel. Ensuring that every need is seen to, every bit of care and love is provided. Sometimes it got tiring. Oftentimes, expensive. Most of the time, FUN. That whole concept of “taking care” of visitors became some sort of protection. A kind of protection, which I also found in the way I was being brought up.
Far from home
On my first time to travel intercontinental by myself, I declared some independence to the world and thought I was ready to explore on my own. I was happy to use the foreign transport system, happy to go around without anyone waiting on me. Finally, I got away from it all.
When I got the chance to be hosted by a Filipino family at a foreign city, however, all the independence flew out the window. They didn’t teach me how to take the bus from their house to the city center. I was always driven. Even with limited time, I was a slave to my host’s own itinerary, which involved family errands and picnics with the neighbors.
I loved it but when it went a little longer, it was enough to make me crazy and frustrated. When I got the chance to return and be hosted by them again, I asked to be allowed to travel by myself. I was permitted to take the train BUT I was still not taught which bus to take from their house to the train station. I was driven there.
When I shared my frustrations with an English friend whom I hosted back home, he laughed and exclaimed, “But Clare, that’s Filipino hospitality!”
And then it hit me. My mouth hung open and I was unable to defend myself. Not a word. Not a mumble. NOTHING.
Then I remembered the time in North Luzon when this friend and I were walking and he scratched his knee. I asked if he was all right and he said, “Nothing escapes you. You notice everything.” To which I replied, “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
It was a flashback of sorts. I remembered all the moments I fret over him, all the instances I insisted on finding him company wherever he goes, compelling him to tell me, “You should trust people more.”
Was it an issue of trust or just this overwhelming feeling that you needed to take care of them? We Filipinos are known for being caring people. I think beyond hospitality, it really is the care we give that makes us more memorable; it sets us apart. We also take it very seriously when someone is put under our charge.
My mother’s hospitality, I sometimes believe, is to a fault. It’s too much some of the time. The way mine was. On the other hand, the way people go out of their way to welcome her (or me) when it’s her turn to visit their places is also overwhelming.
This made me recall all the other times I have visited other peoples’ homes and realized how stifling it felt (at some point) when I was given too much care and attention. Smothering would be a good way to describe how we take care of our visitors (and our families) sometimes. As much as it is loved and appreciated, it does get to you. Glass shatters and you realize the leash should come off, or at least, lengthened some more.
The good and the bad
Perhaps we need to loosen up, or care a little less. On my part I have eventually begun to trust people more and let my visitors learn by themselves; let them have a little more fun without me. We don’t always have to set the best fiesta food for them; they also have to know what it is like to wake up to plain tapsilog, tuyo, or pan de sal and keso. We don’t always have to be at their side, at their beck and call. Let your visitors talk to the kanto boy, to the jeepney driver, to the palengke vendor – then they will know more about the life we all share.
It was only when I had a taste of Filipino hospitality (interestingly, outside of our country) did I realize how heartwarming and to some degree, heart wrenching we could be. There is after all, a limit to everything and it is just right to know up to what point (our) hospitality should be.
Sometimes I wonder if it is all about the excitement about our greatness that makes us want to share everything in one go; on the other hand, could it be that we don’t know our greatness that’s why we keep them busy and distracted so they don’t see it?
Then again, the way we share our lives with other people – fellow Pinoy and foreign – is genuine. Our care stems truly from the heart, that’s why we tend to give so much of ourselves. That’s our kind of hospitality. It’s one mark of our greatness.
Our hearts are in the right place. We just need to make sure that by giving so much of ours, we don’t necessarily stifle theirs. We just need to make sure, too that as we devote so much of our time to them, we (still) take care of ourselves. I think that’s more important.
