Though I’m still mostly flying by the seat of my muddy pants, I’ve established quite a routine while filming this documentary.
As a change of pace, I thought I’d give you all a little ‘behind the scenes’ look at my daily routine. Sure, it isn’t glamorous, but I’m still going strong!
First on the agenda…
Down a mug of instant coffee in the morning. Write a blog or go through footage from the previous day. Meticulously log and transfer it all into my massive 1 terabyte hard drive, which is filling up as fast as a fish tank. Edit a few shots. Plan out what I need to film today and prepare questions for interviews…usually nothing goes as planned, but at least I get an A for effort.
What to wear?
Pick an outfit from my collection of dumpsite duds: three pairs of cargo pants, a few grubby tank tops, and two smelly sports bras. Who cares if they are dirty and sweaty, they’re just going to get dirty and sweaty again in about 30 minutes.
As with all outfits, the shoes are crucial. They’re a cross between a hiking shoe and a sandal. I bought them a few years ago, so now they have dust from Rwanda and garbage from Cebu caked on the bottom.
I’m now a walking fashion disaster. My fluorescent socks are fully visible inside my sandal and my pant hemline is splattered with a mix of black mud and dust. I never forget to wear my ‘perfume’, an intoxicating concoction of bug spray and SPF 30 sunscreen.
What to bring
Inside my Crumpler backpack is where the magic happens. It’s basically an entire film crew inside an excessively padded bag. It weighs about ten pounds, filled with any and all equipment I should need: the camera, two microphones, four spare camera batteries, headphones, a notebook and a roll of electrical tape.
Let’s not forget the other essentials: extra sunscreen, hand sanitizer, back up bug spray, and the all-important swag. What’s a swag? A term used to describe a rag used to wipe away the sweat of my every pore of my body.
Last but not least, I get out my water bottle and shake up some Gatorade powder and water.
With tripod in one hand, water bottle in the other, and the backpack strapped on tight, I head out for the day.
How to get there
Walk out to the road outside the gate and wait for a jeepney. In case you’re not aware, the jeepney is the go-to method of transport in the Philippines.
It’s basically a toy truck with no headroom.
Squeeze into the back, hold the tripod between my legs and my backpack in my lap. Maneuver awkwardly as other passengers board the jeepney and bump all my stuff.
The jeepney takes me to the nearest place where I can catch a cab: the Hilton hotel. It’s about a ten-minute ride, and by the end of it my back already hurts from scrunching in.
I order the cabbie to use the meter and take me to Umapad. I get in and thank the heavens for air conditioning.
Twenty minutes later, we arrive. I tell the cabbie to drop me off next to the shack filled with garbage bags. They always give me that look, the look that says: “Here?! Really? Are you sure?” I don’t imagine a lot of taxi drivers take tourists to these parts.
Getting down to business
Walk a few minutes to the chapel, where I will wait for Nelmae. Don’t’ know what I’d do without her. She’s an amazing translator and she’s always trying to help me out, whether it’s holding my bag for a minute while I take out batteries or letting me borrow some hand sanitizer.
As Nelmae and I walk through the village on the way to the home of the Rapatan’s, familiar faces say hello and smile. This is one of my favourite parts of the day. Still, you have to keep an eye out for the odd mangy dog and rooster getting loose from his leash.
I try to work as efficiently as possible and get my filming done before sunset. After about 3 hours my body is usually about ready to collapse from heat and the physical exertion. I give Mary-Grace a high five, shove everything back into my Crumpler and head out.
The return trip
Nelmae graciously offers to carry my tripod as we walk together towards the highway where I can catch a cab. First we walk through what’s basically a shantytown, but compared to the Umapad dumpsite, it feels like a walk in the park.
I get catcalls from the boys, excited screams for the girls. There are men setting fire to broken down cars to get the parts they need, kids running around naked, and smiling mothers holding their babies in their arms.
We walk for about 12 minutes before finally get out to the main road. We wait to cross at the intersection that has the longest light in all of Cebu.
Nelmae waits with me for five or 10 minutes while I try to hail down a cab. She helps me tell the cabbie where to go and make sure he has change. I hop in and so begins the barrage of questions: Where were you coming from? Where are you going? Are you catholic? Are you single?
It costs about 250 pesos, or $5 and takes 25-30 minutes to get home. First, we sit through traffic jams, then speed through windy dark side roads. I live in Punta Engano, which is basically the boonies.
Calling it a day
The first thing I do is drop my dumpsite shoes at the door. Then I head straight for the shower. Even though I feel disgusting, there’s always a part of me that dreads getting under the ice cold shower. I get it over with and feel ten times better.
I look in the mirror and realize I’m getting tan. It’s a nice dan, but it certainly didn’t come from laying on the beach.
I hang up my sweaty clothes to dry, put on something that makes me feel like a girl again, and head straight to the kitchen for dinner. I chow down on pasta, chicken, and mangoes.
As tiring as all this is, I’m trying to see it a rite of passage….or at the very least: bragging rights!