cross-cultural marriage

One of the most effective ways to learn a new language and culture is to marry a speaker, or member of it. I don't recommend serial polygamy myself, I would hope that using this particular method once or twice would be enough for any one language learner, but to each his or her own! Since marriage into a new culture will be one of the recurring topics of this blog, I'd better introduce Danny, my husband since 2003. He's a priest in the Episcopal Church of the Philippines, a part of the worldwide Anglican Communion, and he is also a member of the indigenous Igorot people of the mountains of Northern Philippines. Together, we have been learning amazing things about ourselves and our home cultures, as well as the mysterious life of our spouse. He's disgusted when I pet the cat and I'm insulted when he spits on the potted plants on our veranda. He says it's a waste of time to wring out the clothes while washing them, and I say he never rinses them enough. This problem, of course could be solved quite simply by getting a washing machine, or a maid, but we have been living a fairly nomadic life since marriage, and are trying not to collect too much baggage, or too many commitments.

After our first wedding anniversary, back in 2004, I wrote the following story:

We were discussing where to go and what to do to celebrate our first wedding anniversary. After some deliberation, we decided to go to a nearby resort where they have a swimming pool and just lounge around by the pool. On the big day, I got ready, and then began a long process of waiting around for him to prepare. First there was one thing, then another, and the day wore on. Finally we were in the car, and then suddenly he said “I just want to go for an acupuncture session”. Well, that takes more than an hour! I was exasperated, but still trying to make the anniversary go well, so I just said “ok”. It was five pm before he finally started up the car and said, “well, let’s head to the resort now.” My exasperation reached a boiling point and I said waspishly, “well, it’s too late to swim now, but I guess we can see the resort, anyway.” He turned an astonished face to me and said firmly “Swimming is night time!” I was too flabbergasted to reply, so he continued, with heavy sarcasm “whaddya wanna do, swim during the DAY, when the SUN is shining?”
Um, I guess not…
It was after six when we got there, and, sure enough, there were a few teenagers in the pool. It was February, and maybe 500 to 900 meters above sea level, and I was wishing I had brought a warm sweater.But there were picnic shelters all around the pool under the trees and I realized that in May, when it’s too sweltering hot to sleep here in the tropics, people might well spend the night eating and drinking and dipping in the pool. Why didn’t somebody tell me when I married a Filipino that I should have asked “What time of day do your people swim?” But there are so many things you never thought of to ask: Where do you get dressed after you take a bath? (the living room). What is a good breakfast food? (instant Ramen noodles). Who does which household chores? (men can wash and clean, but never do grocery shopping).