1.   Take better care of our women and children.
We need to do a much better job protecting those who cannot defend themselves.  Our mothers, daughters, and sons deserve our utmost care. 

2.   Be good to our environment.
Now, we know better, yet we keep on allowing out planet to be poisoned to a fatal degree because of greed and laziness.  Our Mother Earth is giving us life, so respecting her should be a priority.

3.   Stop hurting innocent people.
Terrorism, mass shootings, genocides, drone strikes, torture, false imprisonment, and the struggle of refugees should have no place in our world.

4.   Empower others.
The fastest way to change the world for the better is to help, encourage, and strengthen others, not ourselves.

5.   Talk less and listen more.
Everyone wants to be right, everyone rallies for their own agenda, and everyone says “but what about me?!”  Only by stopping that fast-moving train and instead wanting to listen to others can we foster understanding, and then compassion. 

6.   Eat real food.
Enough with the genetically modified, processed, radiated, and laboratory produced quasi-foods.  They’re sickening our society so let’s go back to the good, natural stuff. 

7.   Celebrate our differences.
Diversity shouldn’t be something we shy away from - that only leads to more fear and isolation.  It’s time to embrace the vivid and rich differences among us so we can see them for what they really are: beautiful. 

8.   Strive for a global community.
We are 7 billion members of the same species on the same planet at the same time in a big, infinite, timeless universe.  If that isn’t enough in common to see ourselves as brothers and sisters in the same global family, I don’t know what is.

9.  Understand the real struggle.
Conflicts in this world are never about who did what to whom, political parties, nations, or even religious ideologies.  The true struggle throughout history has always been about those who bloodlust for money and power, and their efforts to distract and control the disenfranchised.

10.   Grow strong enough to be tolerant and compassionate.
Real strength is never about standing over someone; it’s about helping them up.  Our first instinct is often to judge, label, and defend our egos against others, but we should try to see ourselves as their kindly, warm-hearted benefactors, instead.

11.   Invest in the next generation.
If only we could build schools, not bombs; provide opportunities, not force opinions, and nurture our youth to rise above the mistakes we’ve made - the world will be an amazing place within a very short time. 

12.   Don’t give up on the world.
To heal our planet, we need to demand positive changes from our leaders, our fellow citizens, and especially ourselves.  This is not negotiable – NOW is the time.

13.    Slow down.
Stop.  Breathe.  Look around you.  Breathe again!  Smile.  Laugh.  Absorb the things you love that make you happy and let go of everything else.  For this, you will never feel regret. 

14.    Spread only light.
My final New Year’s resolution for our world is that we try to spread only that which is good, true, and pure in our short time on earth, so we may help and serve the other life forms around us.  That is the only legacy that matters.  


Have a great 2014!

-Norm    :-)  

They let me enter the Kingdom of Siam around 10:30 pm last night.  It took me another hour to get to my hotel on the other side of the island of Phuket and I was tired from a long travel day from the Philippines, so I didn’t care to go out and brave the craziness in the streets.  Instead, I laid in bed and ate pistachios while watching the only thing in English on TV, Billy the Exterminator. 

Now, it’s my first morning in Thailand.  This is nothing new (not the morning part, those come approximately once a day – but the first morning part.)  I’ve had more first mornings than I can remember in countries I’ve traveled to and lived, all over the world.  At this point, you could airdrop me anywhere in the world with just a loincloth, an iPhone 4, $260 in small local currency, and a strong course of penicillin and I’ll find a way to adapt. 

But here’s something you don’t know – the fear of the unknown never goes away.  It certainly gets easier, or different, but it’s just human nature, and today, I suddenly, find myself in a country where I don’t know a soul yet alone the customs, the money, where to go, what to do, or the language (I know a chopped ‘please’ and ‘thank you’).  However, I’ve found the Process gets easier.  When faced with the perpetual loss of familiar conditions, your routine becomes even more comforting, especially for me, being just a few ticks on the spectrum away from Rain Man. 

On my first day, the Process always starts with getting out to explore the town.  When traveling, you always seem to start out in the most touristy places, which are the most expensive, offer the least authentic culture or charm, and have the most ways to entrap a tourist.  But these are the places most visited so they’re also the most documented, and easiest to start from.  The Process, then, always entails separating myself from the tourist traps and hot spots.  This could take a couple days or 3 years, depending.  For instance, I’m staying near and walking around the trashy Patong area – which is nothing but bars and cheap shopping – because that’s where all the hotels were online.  But my mission is I’ll explore the rest of the island and start looking around for more chill (and cheaper) places to stay near nicer and less touristy beaches.  Further and further and further out until, eventually, I find myself on a small island in a beach hut with WIFI.  Think of starting in Patong like beginning your first stay in America on the old, seedy part of the strip in Las Vegas - it can only go up from here. 

The French proprietor of my hotel, a nice fella with a purple Polo shirt who’s been up working for 36 hours straight because his taskmaster wife just got back in town, gave me a map of the town and circled a few spots.  Still, I’m clueless, and find myself walking around aimlessly, asking “Excuse me, which way is the ocean?” – the EXACT phrase I mercilessly mocked tourists in Costa Rica for uttering to me.

That’s ok, getting hopelessly lost is part of the Process.  In fact, I prefer to just wander around with only instinct as my guide, (now that I think of it, in life as well as when I travel.)  I walk on a few blocks past posters for Muay Thai fights and stores with their metal grates still down, as this party town sleeps late. 

First impression: this place is a shit hole.  It seems every block is lined up like this: Tourist information kiosk, Indian restaurant, shop with t-shirts and fake Beats by Dre headphones, massage parlor, pharmacy right next door, GoGo bar, 7-11, money exchange counter, and another pharmacy.  Why do they need all of these pharmacies, anyway?  “Massage, sir?” they call to me, but I keep walking.

I already feel a longing for the perfect beaches and chill island life of Boracay in the Philippines where I just came from.  This, too, is part of the Process.  You always look fondly on the place you just left because it’s familiar and comfortable.  Of course when you were there you thought fondly of the previous place you’d been, and longed for a change and that’s why you relocated, and so it goes on and on.  But each place has redeeming qualities so it’s best just to focus on those.  

A quick scan around me in Patong doesn’t reveal any of those redeeming qualities.  Oh, there is one – there’s a terrific breeze.  And better Internet connection – that’s two!  But the beach is crappy and crowded and instead of a lot of smiling Thai people with the island spirit, I see a lot of Russian or Australian tourists walking around half drunk.  I know this like I know my own name – the Aussies wear short shorts and are watching rugby and football (soccer) and drinking beers in the bars already at 9 am, and the Russian women all look like curvy supermodels.  I swear to God, they are the hottest women on the planet – the ‘Latinas of Europe’ they’ve been called – but cold as ice and won’t even acknowledge your existence other than to give you an Ivan Drago scowl. 

I’m standing on a street corner trying not to look like a tourist when a beautiful woman walks up to me and says hi.  “Where are you from?” is the instant conversation-maker among travelers and backpackers in any foreign country, followed by “How long are you here,” and maybe “Have you gone to the Full Moon party on ecstasy?” – the coded lexicon of globe trekkers.  But this girl, who reveals she is from Latvia, throws me a curveball, asking me how long it’s been since I’ve lived in the U.S.  I do the math, “Almost three years now,” I tell her. 

She keeps asking me questions but I just stare at her face and upper pectoral region as my mouth moves, answering on its own in a language that sounds only vaguely familiar.  I’m pretty sure I’d marry her on the spot so we’d have a full family by this time next Christmas and can have a cute photo to send out on our holiday card.  When she asks what I do for work and finds out I’m a writer, she seems impressed.  “Don’t be,” I assure her, with all honesty.  Before I even have a chance to propose to her or at least offer to take her out for a beer, she asks where I’m staying.  I point to the cheaper outskirts of town.  She asking, I realize, not because she’s on my same married and family by next Christmas plan, but she’s a street recruiter for the 5-star hotel next door.  “Probably not for a backpacker’s budget, huh?” I ask.  Her aviator sunglasses wilt and her smile curdles when she realize I’m of humble means.  She starts to back away slowly, with no sudden movements.  Goodbye, Latvia.

This will happen 467 times a day in some shape or form – hustlers, vendors, touts, scammers, middlemen, beggars, fortune tellers, charlatans, bait-and-switch men, honest salespeople and hawks trying to pitch you everything from taxi rides to massages to jet ski rentals.  I’ve become so adept at fending them; I just try to act like a Russian woman would if I asked her out. 

I keep walking, hoping I’m going in the right direction, saying “No, thank you,” to all the taxi drivers.  I really need to rent scooter, but I don’t fathom how that could end well for me.  #1, I don’t know how to ride a motorcycle, #2 I’m clumsy, #3, they drive on the wrong side of the road here and #4, I’ve been warned about the Jet Ski Mafia. 

Apparently, a favorite scam by the mafia influences that run this town, who can be from Korea, the Middle East, Thailand, or Russia, is to rent a motor scooter or jet ski to a tourist – totally legit so far.  But when the tourist come back to return it, the rental place reports a bunch of damage that wasn’t there before.  If there’s nothing visible then they say they’re big problems with the motor so the tourist now owes them a ridiculous sum, like $1,000 USD.  If they protest, the mafia gets the Thai police involved, who are in on the scam.  If the tourist doesn’t pay, they’ll detain them and confiscate their passport or at least lock them in an interrogation room for 24 hours until they freak out and agree to pay. 

I find my feet moving toward a shining U.S.-style shopping mall with a Starbucks and Burger King.  Instead, I halt dead in my tracks and force my feet to walk in a different direction, and letting intuition take back over.  I chose a few random streets and alleyways to saunter down, a reminder that the Process is to get lost, be open to fate, stumble forward, fail while smiling, to purposely become a tiny fish in the biggest pond there is – the world. 

In the secluded alley I find a great little place that serves coffee and Pad Thai.  Over breakfast I draft my First Day To Do List, the true purpose of why I started writing this. 

This is what I want to get done today: 

1.     Find the beach and go for a swim and a run

2.     Get a local SIM card

3.     Find a long term stay apartment

4.     Go join the gym

5.     Start teaching myself Thai

6.     Do two days worth of writing in one day

7.     Seek out salty dogs local expats for more valuable information

However, this is probably what my first day will look like:

1.     Eat Pad Thai and drink coffee

2.     Lounge by the hotel pool and watch Billy the Exterminator

3.     Take two siestas

Oh well, there’s always tomorrow, and that, my friends, is the true beauty of the Process.

The biggest thrill for me is connecting with new friends all over the world - with the book South of Normal as our introduction, and hopefully making a positive impact in their lives.  

This is a message from Jenny A, a reader from the Philippines:

Hey Norm! 
I just finished SON. I really enjoyed reading it and laughed many times (Scorpion and Poor Little Wu Fat!).  But more than being entertained, I appreciate the honesty and humanity in it.  I felt joy, hope, despair, loneliness, even pain at certain parts of the book -- that moment when you didn't have enough money for your groceries, every time you visited Pistol, when you allowed yourself to be 'lost' in the ocean...the melancholy of letting special someone go or saying goodbye to friends.

I particularly found 'Blue, Green, Breathe' really profound yet gripping that I held on to every word you wrote.  It's the most "in the zone" chapter of your book, I think.  Maybe the water really has a magical, healing effect on people...

SON was exactly what I needed to read at this point in my life. I'll have a milestone birthday coming up soon and coincidentally, I also set goals early this year to be healthy and fit, to be happy...and finally welcome something that I've been putting off for so long. 

Apparently, I'm not the only one who was struck by this because I later found out that it's the most highlighted line among your Kindle readers.

Keep writing, Norm. You have a unique gift for touching people's lives and whether you like it or not, you'll be classified under 'Self-Help' because you inspire and help a lot of people (not all writers can do this!).   Hahaha.

Take care and Happy Holidays!  :)

A long time ago, I worked for a mortgage company in California.  I didn’t know what the hell I was doing and definitely felt intimidated by the big, impressive business world.  I was told to learn from the more experienced loan officers in the company and looked to do so, but the top dog, Brent, always had his office door closed. 

I’d run into him in the halls first thing in the morning or when I stopped by on a Saturday, saying a quick hello as he hustled off to deliver a file or get on the phones.  We never got the time to talk much, but it was obvious that he was serious about his profession and cared deeply about his clients.  Every year he was the top producer in the company, and one of the best loan officers in California, yet he didn’t match the persona of so many others I saw in the business.  Brent dressed simply, didn’t talk loudly, didn’t have a big fancy watch or drive a hot sports car, and didn’t schmooze at trendy nightclubs after work.  Instead, he was a worker bee, always with his door closed.  

At the end of the year, we had a Christmas gathering at a local steakhouse.  I managed to sit next to Brent.  As we sipped our beers, he congratulated me on getting through my first year with honors.   I thanked him, but then shifted the conversation to his tremendous accomplishments.  I was still awed by where he was in life, and a little jealous of the money he made.

“So Brent, how does it feel to be so successful?” I asked, like a kid meeting his favorite baseball player and asking for batting tips.

He paused, took off his glasses, and thought for a moment before speaking.

“Tired,” he said, rubbing his eyes.  Then he apologized and excused himself because his phone was ringing and he had to take the call.

The night went on and the dinner was great and I worked there for a while.  Soon, the market took a dive in the biggest real estate crash in history and we were all freaking out, running about like chickens with our heads cut off, stressing about all of the Monopoly money we’d lost.  Brent was stressed too, but it wasn’t on display because he was always in the office with his door closed.  The rest of us were all train wrecks by the next Christmas and that year there was no party, but Brent had posted another stellar year in the midst of the worst mortgage market since the Great Depression.

Eventually I moved on from the company and the business, but his words always stuck with me.  How does it feel to be so successful?  “Tired.”  At first, it was odd. I mean, this guy was on top of the world, with a rock steady business, on his way to millions of dollars - if he wasn’t there all ready - and had the money to buy anything he wanted or take vacations as much as he wished.  From my very small perspective, he shouldn’t have had a care in the world.  So why did he feel “tired” instead of elation, excitement, or like a world beater?

How do you feel when you're successful?  Tired. 

I didn’t fully understand it, but now, many years later, I’ve started to figure it out.

He was tired because of what it took to BE successful.  He didn’t just show up one day and everything was handed to him.  There was a whole process of dedication, sacrifice, and commitment; hard work and then, when things got tough, some more hard work.  Early mornings and late nights.  The extra phone call, the extra email, driving across town to pick something up on a Saturday.  When you’ve hit a nail with a hammer a million times, there’s no reason particular reason to celebrate when you hit it a million and one times.  He hadn’t won the lottery.  There was no bell to ring.  His door was always closed because he was firing away - focused, disciplined, putting in the work to be successful that others wouldn’t.

Tired.

I haven’t had professional or financial success even close to Brent’s level, but now I understand that you have to put the journey first, to fall in love with the work, and eventually the top-of-the-mountain vistas will come.  Any high points I’ve experienced as a writer came when I was operating on fumes, but wrote anyway.  Exhausted, under slept, busy with a long To Do list, distracted, tempted, stressed about being broke, I still pushed myself to write what needed to come out, driven only by a passion to create something good.  

And every time I’ve written an article that made big waves in the world it was under those circumstances – when it would have been much easier to sleep an hour longer, take the night off, or go out and enjoy myself.  I don’t think it’s a coincidence.    

I still see Brent every blue moon when I’m back visiting Sacramento.  He’s always gracious enough to congratulate me on my journey as a writer, and then rubs his eyes and excuses himself after only a few beers because he’s got work to do.  I never really learned anything from him as a loan officer, but maybe his closed office door was the real lesson.

Reader Question:  
Hi, my name is Kevin XYZ.  Former USAF.  About ready to retire and looking to relocating to Costa Rica, alone.  My state pension is only abt $1,500 mo.  Is it true that I can live there on that amt?  I don’t need the “BIG” party life.  Just want to decompress from years of working.  I have modest needs, but want to be able to experience and see Costa Rica.  I know you must get many emails from folks from here in the states, but I do hope you respond.

My Answer: 
Hello Kevin!  
Thanks for touching base!  First off, thank you so much for your service to our country - I sincerely appreciate it.  And congrats on your imminent retirement.  To answer your question directly; yes, it's possible to live on $1,500 a month.  Now the fine print; Costa Rica is actually one of the more expensive countries to relocate to.  It's incredibly beautiful - no doubt - but you'll also face some challenges.  Some people will find the infrastructure disorganized, difficult to obtain visas or open a business, and crime is getting worse.  If you live in a tourist area or right by the beach it probably will cost you more than$1,500, but there are plenty of chill places in the mountains or in more local areas of beach towns where you can live humbly on that budget.  

You'll find this useful - I just wrote an article for the Huffington Post: How to Live in Paradise for Less Than $1,500 a Month by huff.to/1fdFzqh 

Before you make a big decision about your retirement, I would check out Panama and Nicaragua (great place, just very poor.)  I lived in San Juan del Sur in Nica for a while and it's a tiny quaint town.  Also Granda City in Nica is nice, and in both places you could easily live for $1,500 a month.  Of course there are pro's and con's to any place you live, and a process of adjustment you'll face just by moving abroad.  For instance, I recommend you don't dive into things like buying a house, a car, or starting any business or doing any investments for at least a year, until you really learn about the place.  

While we're at it, I would suggest adding Colombia in South America (absolutely amazing) and Ecuador to your list.  I'm in SE Asia right now and thought it's way far from home, it's a GREAT place to retire - Vietnam is cheap and so nice and safe with great food, the Philippines is very rough around the edges but the people are great and the beaches are amazing, and Thailand is super nice (though getting touristy.)

I hope that helps!  I'm actually putting together an eBook with more detailed information about living/retiring abroad because so many people have asked.  BTW before you move to Costa Rica, give a read to South of Normal, the book I wrote about my year living there.  Eye opening!

Ok sir, have a great holiday and please keep in touch!

Your friend,
Norm  :-)  

The easiest way to ensure your unhappiness is to compare yourself to others.  Yet, it seems inevitable, the inherent need to measure up to the world around us, to rank ourselves in the social strata. 

To be clear, I’m no positive thinking guru.  Actually, I find them annoying as hell with their endless sunny-side-up banter and all those crowded, smiling big teeth.  They make me want to yell, “For once, put your pom poms away and admit sometimes you feel so shitty you can’t even get out of bed and eat three large pizzas and watch 16 and Pregnant all day just to keep from blowing your brains out!” 

That aside, I do think I can help you with this comparison thing.

What qualifies me?  I’m guilty of comparing myself to others, too, but I’ve learned to manage it well.  But I used to do it like, ALL the time.  When someone passed me on the street, a voice popped up in my head, speculating how they must have their shit together compared to my screwy life.  When I saw someone at the gym, I instantly thought about how they were in such better shape than me. 

It went on and on – others had better jobs, rosy family lives, and always did wonderful outdoorsy things on the weekends that I only found out about on Monday morning.  Their love lives were something out of a movie (a romantic comedy, not a horror movie like mine) and their friends all made over $100,000 a year and looked great in trendy little hats.  Hell, even their pets looked happier than mine!  

“Perk up, you God damn mizzy goldfish, or someone’s getting flushed!”   

Maybe this sounds familiar, or perhaps you only compare yourself when it comes to certain things in your life – like your body image, your role as a parent, or your job.   It’s unhealthy on many levels - but then again, so is drinking 9 pints of Pabst Blue Ribbon at the local dive bar every night and giving your cell phone number to toothless strangers, but we can all agree that’s not a good enough reason to shun it.  But trust me on this; comparing yourself to others isn’t the fun kind of “unhealthy,” and will only lead to disappointment and even bitterness. 

Granted, it will motivate you – to do more and achieve more and scramble to measure up, instilling a reptilian-brain panic in your subconscious to be more like those shiny, happy masses.  But it’s all empty – you’ll never really enjoy that journey, nor feel fulfilled by anything you accomplish.  Once you reach a goal there will just be the next person to compare yourself to, who you perceive as “better.”  You’ll end up competing with every single person in the world, including fictional ones on TV and quite a few on Facebook. 

Think of it like this – do you remember when Tiger Woods was dominating golf and winning every tournament?  The announcers had no choice but to speculate on the odds of Tiger taking home another trophy versus the chances of the “field” winning.  He was being measured up against someone, anyone, and everyone in the pack.  You’re volunteering for the same treatment when you judge yourself against the field.  It’s an impossible proposition, and not at all fair, to measure your self-image against everyone else in the world.

Furthermore, when we take a quick glance at someone and use them as a model of comparison, we only see what’s outside.  Everything looks better through a storefront window.  Take my word for it, everyone is flawed and full of shit and has their ups and downs – it’s just part of being human.  But from the outside, we’re not privy to the demons behind their perfect façade.  Sometimes, the more people work to perpetuate that perfect image on the outside, the more they’re scared of someone pulling back the curtain and exposing the reality.  For instance, how many times have we seen that nauseatingly-perfect couple fall apart in scandal when it comes out that she made questionable choices with Enrique, the Salvadorian janitor, after too many Petron shots at the company Christmas party and he lost his job 14 months ago so the bank is repossessing their wakeboarding boat, Kiss My Wake 69, rendering them instantly friendless (or something like that.)

By constantly comparing yourself, you also disable any control you have in your life.  Of course you can’t control what everyone else does and how everyone else looks and where you are in the spectrum of 7 billion people.  It’s just too big, so stop rendering yourself powerless on purpose, and it’s not what you’re looking for, anyway.  You don’t want the THING you envy in others, but the FEELING you think it will provide you.  If you keep setting yourself up to lose or feel bad, you’re not giving yourself a real shot to feel that, and therefore self-sabotaging your happiness.     

Most importantly, just by the act of comparing yourself to others, you devalue your natural gifts.  What are you blessed with?  I am a firm believer that everyone is bestowed with a unique gift, and it’s their calling in life to figure out what that gift is, nurture it, and give it to the world.  I’m fairly certain your gift has nothing to do with an expensive foreign car you’re scared to park at Costco or having a hot boyfriend with good hair.  Just a shot in the dark here, but our reason for existence probably has more to do with being of service, helping others, and making the world a better place.  That has nothing to do with your self-image, and comparisons can only derail you from that spiritual journey.  Basically, being a humble, good human being is incomparable.

Now, drum roll please…here’s the good part – the stuff that’s actually going to HELP you.  Because the words I wrote are swell but we already know we should be more positive and take out the pom poms and stop comparing ourselves to others, but actually DOING it is the hard part - the small (HUGE) detail that self-help screwballs leave out.

So how do we stop comparing ourselves to others as much?  Forget about just waking up tomorrow and changing your ways – it’s not going to happen.  And the only New Year’s resolution you should make is to stop making out with those toothless strangers at that dive bar.  But here are some ways to actually implement small, tangible changes so the unhealthy tendency to compare yourself to others will gradually fade away: 

1.     Be conscious.

First, realize when you are comparing yourself to others.  To whom?  How so?  What thoughts popped up?  On a scale of 1-10, how bad did it make you feel?  Even write it down if that helps you, but hide it well because if anyone finds your list you’ll be instantly labeled a weirdo and kicked off the Wednesday night bowling team.  The point is, if you don’t clearly know what you’re up against, I guarantee you’ll never be able to make changes.  By being conscious of comparisons it won’t be an amorphous fog that blankets everything in your life anymore.  You’ll understand which nails need hammering, and empower yourself to get started. 

2.     Refocus on you. 

The only person you should compare yourself to is you.  It’s the only person you can ever know, control, and who can bring you happiness.  So if you want to make a change in your life, think small – are you doing better today than yesterday?  That’s all the victory you need for now.  Forget about finished products or grand goals or where you want to be a year from now because it’s impossible to achieve those right now.  Instead, ask yourself if there are tiny, marginal improvements in the right direction, today?  That’s all you need to refocus on the moment and feel positive about your progress, which will self-perpetuate and fuel the marathon of life, not burn out in a fruitless sprint.

3.     Practice empathy.

Train yourself to be happy when others are happy, and there will never be a shortage of joy in your life.  To get started, envision yourself connected to all other human beings, not in competition.  When someone else is doing well or is happy, feel like you benefit, too.  In fact, the area of the brain that delivers those endorphins knows no difference between “me” and the outside world, so the concept of “giving is better than receiving” is actually a physiological reality.  Instead of fostering comparisons, feel great about others doing well and you’ll get a nice tan in the universal glow.   Take credit for all victories but don’t suffer other’s defeats. 

Please notice that I said “practice,” because it takes a lot of honest work to develop this sentiment, but if you put empathy in your thoughts, even if you’re faking it at first, you’ll be amazed how it grows, and the need to compare yourself to others disappears.

These children are Ati, a Negrito ethnic group in the central Visayan islands in the Philippines.  Ati are the aborigines of the islands, most likely arriving from Borneo 20-30,000 years ago on simple dugout canoes called "balangaysbalangays."  

There are few beggars on Boracay island, but almost all of them are Ati – wives and children (I don’t think I’ve ever see grown Ati men) who sit out on cardboard asking for alms from the tourists in flimsy paper cups.  They sleep out on the sand or on the side of the street, and an industrious soul might try to hawk cheap bracelets.  This island once belonged to them.

I passed these kids on the sand path paralleling White Sand beach tonight, on my way back from a steak dinner with German friends.  I stopped and bought them ice cream cones.  They were not impressed.  They did not show appreciation or say thank you or express interest in any interaction at all.  Only one would reveal his name, Marco, and they were reluctant to even look me in the eye.

That is not their fault, I remind myself, and I shouldn’t judge them by my privileged Western perspective.  These kids barely exist, living in the shadows, marginalized by society and facing such severe discrimination that they don’t even count as citizens.  Their black skin stands in stark contrast, both literally and metaphorically, against the powder white sands of the island of Boracay, considered one of the best in the world and a prized international tourist destination. Yet few realize that it was the ancestral homeland of these same Ati, who have been pushed out from their own land by the modern machines of profit and tourism.  There are over a million tourists every year but only about 200 surviving Ati on Boracay.  Their language has almost died out and only a few elders practice their original religion, a form of animism with good and evil spirits, natural forces that guard rivers, the sea, sky, and mountains.  

There are no jobs for them.  Few can integrate into modern society.  There is no education and little health care, and the only social safety net comes from Ati relief and charitable organizations, like the Assisi Foundation and the Daughters of Charity.  Even though there has been renewed government and civic interest in reviving the Ati culture, it is not enough.  Only about 25% of Ati are even literate.  Their plight is similar to Native Americans in the United States and Aboriginal tribes in Australia, who are considered the most ancient culture on earth.   When we turn a blind eye to their plight, we discard some of the most revered and anthropologically rich human beings on the planet.   

I don’t even know where to begin helping them.  Certainly buying disenfranchised kids ice cream cones is not the answer, and I realize that's far more a token of my own sense of philanthropy than it is tangible amnesty for them.  But I will ask some local friends and make sure you know, too, in case you want to get involved.  In the mean time, check out this great article I found about the Ati on Boracay. 

Or please email me if you'd like me to make a direct donation to these Ati women and children I pass by every day, but who don't go without my notice and respect.