Dumagueteños are the nicest people EVER.

I can honestly say I’m a fairly nice person. I’m honest (as much as I can be), and polite. But since I’m from Manila, I can be considered one in a million (in Manila)… or at least one in a hundred with my inherent niceness. In Dumaguete, I think everyone is nice. I haven’t come across anyone who was rude here.

Examples:
Everyone, as in EVERYONE, say ‘you’re welcome’ every time you thank them. And I thank everyone whoever did anything for me, like fill up my glass of bottomless iced tea, pick up something I dropped, let me pass him or her in a public vehicle, everyone. So here, if I’m sitting at a table in a restaurant, you’d hear me thanking all the servers whoever came near our table and you’d hear all of them say you’re welcome every time.

Everyone, as in EVERYONE, is very nice about me not speaking Bisaya. You know in Manila when people do not speak Tagalog (or straight English), they sneer at you? Here they immediately adjust to you and are sorry that they didn’t ask you a question in a language or dialect you’d understand. They don’t make you feel stupid because you don’t understand them, but they make you feel like they’re the ones who’re sorry that they asked you in Bisaya. There were quite a few who immediately switched to English while talking to me.

My very favorite incident yesterday. I went to school with Jette and stopped by BPI at the corner of Perdices Street and Legaspi (I think… that’s what it said on the ATM locator) to settle my credit card bill, and when I went to the counter, the manong there told me to fill out a deposit slip. I had no idea what to do or which information to put on the slip because in Manila, I just hand over the statement and they process it for me. So I might have stayed in front of the table where you fill out the forms for a solid ten minutes before dejectedly going back to the counter. With puppy dog eyes, I said, “sir, hindi po ako marunong mag-fill out ng slip kaya hindi ko po alam kung anong ilalagay. Hindi po kasi ako hinihingan ng deposit slip sa Manila, eh”.

He looked at my form, nodded and took out a huge pad of deposit slips. He got a sheet of carbon paper, too, put it under the first page, and started scribbling. Then, he tore the deposit slip I made the way I imagine the Katipuneros tore their cedula. I was standing there, biting my lip to keep from squirming, but he processed my payment, stapled my receipt and the deposit slip with my statement and handed it over to me. He said with a smile, “ayan, para may sample ka”.

Is it stupid that I felt touched? I mean, who but a Dumagueteño would think to do that? I was impressed with the initiative. So manong, I didn’t get your name, but thank you, thank you, thank you very much.

If everyone in Dumaguete were customer service representatives, there would be very few angry customers. They’re all so genuinely warm and welcoming and… nice, you’d be embarrassed to be irate. Plus the service is always good, you’d be hard-pressed to think of anything to be irate about.

I wish I’m just starting to write Jacob’s story so I could have put more emphasis on the Dumagueteños. I wasn’t able to portray how beautiful it really is here and how beautiful the people are. ‘Di bale, marami pa akong characters na pwedeng dalin dito…

*huwag ka kumindat diyan, nameless-kapatid-ni-Jacob*