I am Filipino

I am Filipino.

I speak the same language.
I have skin as brown as a fresh pandesal.
I am short with a nose unenvied by the rest of the world.
I was born into a Catholic-stricken community.
I back-ride on a tricycle on shorts and slippers.
I shout Bayad! and Para! on the jeepney.
I can speak in 5 local dialects.

Yet….

I have learned a second language first.
I was first taught in a Protestant school.
I, then, continued studying in a Belgian institution.
I graduated with a major that is not Filipino.

Now…

I work for Koreans.
I try - miserably and terribly - to learn their language.
I am mistaken to be Korean more than thrice.
I have the Rising Sun’s currency as my pseudonym.
I adore anime.
I have the blood of Lao, the Giant’s child, in my veins.
I look more like the Giant’s child, though.

Although…

I toured all over Luz.
I have seen magnificent Mayon.
I climbed the proud Cordilleras.
I, then, crossed the Pacific twice.
I have met Uncle Sam.
I gazed at Lady Liberty.
I tasted the Big Apple.
I almost crossed the Golden Gate.
I still have not met Vi and Minda.

I am a Chinese descendant who looks like a Korean with a Japanese nickname.
I am neither.

I belong to the Pearl.
I am a Filipino.