"What are you waiting for?"

The bus ride from Baguio to Sagada was an 8 hour field trip through the Cordillera Mountains. I did nothing but peer from my window at the outside world resembling nothing I have seen before. The highway we were on was the only road that serviced these tiny mountain communities which at first look seemed to be self-sustaining. In reality self-sustainable is relative to the level of poverty that exists here; they aren't anywhere near having all of their needs met, but I there is nothing other than farming creating wealth in these communities, aside from the occasional bus that may or may not stop at the little stands on the side of the road where they sell crackers and other convenient store products for 10-20 pesos each (20-40 cents). As we rolled through town, heads would turn and people would shake their arm to get a ride (or maybe they were doing this for the entertainment value); if they were lucky our driver would stop, but most of the time he moved on, because we were too crowded, or maybe just because he felt like it, I'm not sure. Our bus also seemed to function as a sort of postal service. We took one large package from an old woman and 3 hours later the bus boy stopped at a little store that was not opened and leaned the package up against the wall before jumping right back on the bus, no payment ever changed hands on either end. (the bus boy acts as the driver's assistant, jumping out of the bus to tell him when to stop when he's backing up, and to put the make-shift emergency brake under the back wheel, something that looks like a hammer with a huge rock head.) As we traveled through these towns, what really struck me was the amount of people whose faces peered back at mine. These people were just sitting by the side of the road, or walking or just standing, or just looking. Basically, these people were not doing anything. What struck me as ironic is the amount of time that they have. I mean they don't have a job to be at, they don't have a school to go to, they don't have money to spend, food to eat, and heaven forbid they go jogging or do anything that might expend extra calories that they don't have the food to replenish. So it's best that they just sit there, chat with friends, watch for buses to wave at, toss stones at the ground, sit around a pile of burning trash to keep warm. What I find ironic, is that although they have no money, they have time. And in America, where money is plentiful, time is something that has become invaluable. In America there are beautiful houses with flat screen T.V.'s and plenty of other entertainment equipment, computers, and beautiful kitchens, left empty all day and part of the night while Americans are out doing what they do: being productive. I tried to picture one of the Philippino families let loose in a house like that just for the day, perhaps they would still just sit around and chat out of habit. Today my tour guide, Derrick said to me: "You're lucky that you can travel." His words were different than if they had come from another American, but at first my reaction was the same as if an American had said it, because I immediately thought about how lucky I was to get the time off to travel for two full months in the middle of the year, but what he meant was that I have the money to travel. Derrick told me he would like to travel to the United States. And hearing Derrick say that was different than if another American had said it, because it's not like when you hear a co-worker or a friend say something like: "I've always wanted to go to Greece or I've always wanted to learn how to cook". The most appropriate response is: "What are you waiting for?", and although we often say this to our friend or co-worker, we both know that time is what is lacking, but when Derrick told me that he really wanted to go to America, to Houston to be exact, I did not respond with "What are you waiting for." Because we both know what Derrick doesn't have: the means.