The Prometheus Curse
Or WHAT’S IN THE BALIKBAYAN BOX?!
When Prometheus brought back fire from the gods, he didn’t know what he was getting the human race into and in particular, us Filipinos. I’m talking about that lovely, heartwarming, cumbersome tradition of bringing pasalubong.
When I went to the United States to visit some relatives, half my suitcase was filled with pasalubong. I carried 40 pounds of hopia, balut, butong pakwan, daing, dried mangoes, Skyflakes and miniature jeepneys. I was a mobile sari-sari store. Note that some of the stuff I was made to carry was illegal according to US customs law. Not only was I a sari-sari store, I was also a smuggler—all for the sake of my kamag-anak. I half-expected my mother to ask me to hide sampalok in my socks.
While in the land of milk(duds) and honey(nuts) we spent half the time looking for –what else?—pasalubong. So what if all these things we were buying were available at the duty-free shops (for convenient pasalubong shopping, as the advertisement said)? We had to buy them in a genuine American store.
To make matters worse, we went to those warehouse clubs where everything was dirt cheap. Four pounds of chocolate for only a dollar! We filled up four balikbayan boxes with our pasalubong, consisting of chocolates, clothes, toys, canned goods, toothpaste, bed sheets, towels… and a partridge in a pear tree.
I spent more than half of my pocket money on pasalubong. One saleslady wondered why I was buying a dozen “X-Files” shirts. She gave me this weird look and asked if I was an “X-Files” fan (although I think she really wanted to ask if I was an “X-Files” freak). I told her the shirts were for my friend back home. She smiled and told me how nice I was. She said her friends never brought her back anything from their vacations.
I grabbed her by the collar, pushed her against the wall and said, “I’m not doing this because I like it. I am dictated by tradition to bring back FIRE from the gods!” She didn’t understand me. She called security.
Then there are the people who actually give you a list of things they want. I felt like Santa Claus. So I spent half of my vacation going from the store to store looking for this doohickey because it’s supposedly available only in the US. Duh! Instead of relaxing, riding roller coasters that go 100 mph, watching the latest movies and TV shows, I spent my vacation in every mall created by man.
So you come home and all your friend and relatives anxiously meet you at the airport. They are, on, so helpful in carrying your bags and boxes. Harassed by airport personnel and tired after a 16-hour flight (beside a guy with bad breath who kept whining about his ex-girlfriend), your avid fans help you unpack and clean you out! Worse, they complain that you didn’t get them the right color, size, shape, or flavor.
Do I sound bitter? How would you feel if you bought all those gifts, sweating blood and dollars only to come home and find out that your best friend stole your girlfriend and that pink dress he asked you to buy wasn’t for him (because you always thought he was gay) but was actually for her and that’s his month-a-versary gift for her and… oh, where was I?
Oh… yes… pasalubong. Prometheus’s gift has become our curse. I hope everyone’s happy with their pasalubong and I hope the vultures are enjoying Prometheus’ liver. Let that be a lesson.
Or WHAT’S IN THE BALIKBAYAN BOX?!
When Prometheus brought back fire from the gods, he didn’t know what he was getting the human race into and in particular, us Filipinos. I’m talking about that lovely, heartwarming, cumbersome tradition of bringing pasalubong.
When I went to the United States to visit some relatives, half my suitcase was filled with pasalubong. I carried 40 pounds of hopia, balut, butong pakwan, daing, dried mangoes, Skyflakes and miniature jeepneys. I was a mobile sari-sari store. Note that some of the stuff I was made to carry was illegal according to US customs law. Not only was I a sari-sari store, I was also a smuggler—all for the sake of my kamag-anak. I half-expected my mother to ask me to hide sampalok in my socks.
While in the land of milk(duds) and honey(nuts) we spent half the time looking for –what else?—pasalubong. So what if all these things we were buying were available at the duty-free shops (for convenient pasalubong shopping, as the advertisement said)? We had to buy them in a genuine American store.
To make matters worse, we went to those warehouse clubs where everything was dirt cheap. Four pounds of chocolate for only a dollar! We filled up four balikbayan boxes with our pasalubong, consisting of chocolates, clothes, toys, canned goods, toothpaste, bed sheets, towels… and a partridge in a pear tree.
I spent more than half of my pocket money on pasalubong. One saleslady wondered why I was buying a dozen “X-Files” shirts. She gave me this weird look and asked if I was an “X-Files” fan (although I think she really wanted to ask if I was an “X-Files” freak). I told her the shirts were for my friend back home. She smiled and told me how nice I was. She said her friends never brought her back anything from their vacations.
I grabbed her by the collar, pushed her against the wall and said, “I’m not doing this because I like it. I am dictated by tradition to bring back FIRE from the gods!” She didn’t understand me. She called security.
Then there are the people who actually give you a list of things they want. I felt like Santa Claus. So I spent half of my vacation going from the store to store looking for this doohickey because it’s supposedly available only in the US. Duh! Instead of relaxing, riding roller coasters that go 100 mph, watching the latest movies and TV shows, I spent my vacation in every mall created by man.
So you come home and all your friend and relatives anxiously meet you at the airport. They are, on, so helpful in carrying your bags and boxes. Harassed by airport personnel and tired after a 16-hour flight (beside a guy with bad breath who kept whining about his ex-girlfriend), your avid fans help you unpack and clean you out! Worse, they complain that you didn’t get them the right color, size, shape, or flavor.
Do I sound bitter? How would you feel if you bought all those gifts, sweating blood and dollars only to come home and find out that your best friend stole your girlfriend and that pink dress he asked you to buy wasn’t for him (because you always thought he was gay) but was actually for her and that’s his month-a-versary gift for her and… oh, where was I?
Oh… yes… pasalubong. Prometheus’s gift has become our curse. I hope everyone’s happy with their pasalubong and I hope the vultures are enjoying Prometheus’ liver. Let that be a lesson.