It's been awkward traveling as a Filipino over the past couple of months.
Once I reveal my nationality, the automatic conversation gambit of my new acquaintance becomes "so tell me about your president."
The first couple of months after the election, I was pretty upbeat. I could talk about the sense of hope and the enthusiasm of President Duterte's supporters, the encouraging signs he had given with respect to gay rights or how he had told the Roman Catholic Church to stay in its proper place.
These days, however, it has become different. Now, when I am on the receiving end of the question, I have to waffle a bit.
First of all, it's hard to describe what is happening in my own country, since so many things are being said or reported or rumored. Who has the time to weed through the conflicting messages given by the main man himself, the headlines, the fans and the spokespersons? Add to that the viewpoints of the analysts and the foreign press, and one can easily lose one's way.
Second, I have to stop and calculate where the speaker is coming from. And that takes in a variety of factors, including the nationality of the speaker, his or her socio-economic class, and maybe even the relevant religion.
In Jakarta, in a wedding party attended by Indonesia's who's who, a fund manager wanted to probe on where I thought the economic sector would land given the presidency. Gee whiz, if I knew, I wouldn't be lawyering. I would probably be managing other people's money', just like him!
My Indonesian girlfriend ended up in peals of laughter after only a couple of days hanging around with me during Jakarta Fashion Week, because every time she introduced me as Filipino, within two beats, the president's name would come up. Soon, she probably had my spiel memorized: Mostly, I would crack a stupid joke about how I have to make sure I'm dressed nicely all the time as I don't want to be mistaken for a drug pusher by roving police.
In Cambodia, a local travel guide sent immediate signals on how worried he was about what the president was doing. I could only gape at how informed he was on Philippine domestic politics. Was this the coverage we were getting in Khmer country?
An African-American New Yorker and I had a chat just this Friday morning. My American acquaintance was ranting about how he was flying home so he could vote for Hillary and how worried he was about the possibility of the Donald winning. Midstream, he blurted, "But you've got problems of your own, what with your new president." Naturally, he would be upset about how his own president has been attacked by my president, and I could only offer apologetic noises.
You can imagine my discomfort when I shared a car with a couple from Israel. When I found out they were Jewish, I launched into a host of other topics designed to steer them away from my nationality. Let's not get into the Nazis!
How I miss the days when I would be barraged by questions and comments on Manny Pacquiao. I'm not a boxing fan, but having passing knowledge of his victories was enough to get me by. Then, when Pia Wurtzbach won Miss Universe, it was a breeze to talk about how beautiful she was and how crazy we all were about her and how that Harvey should be spanked. It has only been five months since Duterte won, and now all my overseas conversations are dominated by him.
Should I change my profession to political analyst? Then I might be more deft in handling conversational landmines.
Speaking of which, my present profession is a conversation killer. When I am asked my occupation, the conversation always sputters when I answer "lawyer." Contrast that to the other choice I have "writer," which I also sometimes give. Just this week, that single answer led to entrepreneur couple spending an hour chatting and practically lending me their car keys to get around Siem Reap.
Maybe I should answer, "I'm an Pan-Asian writer." Let's see where that leads.