When Vivian Estrada was growing up in the Philippines, she and her extended family picnicked on Saturdays down by the river near their town. "It was a nice river," says Vivian, stroking the air in curves, "clear and flowing. Lots of shade." While men rested and children played, her mother and aunties cleaned laundry in the river.
Now Vivian works at the Queen Anne Laundry Room among gleaming white machines. The setting and method are different, but the activity is the same.
Vivian was born in 1957 in the municipality of Mabini, province of Pangasinan, north of Manila. She is the sixth of nine children in the Estrada family. The eldest were twin girls, one of whom died of asthma as an adult. Vivian's father was Mabini's postmaster, and her mother was a laundress in a nursing home.
Vivian studied banking and finance at the University of Pangasinan, where she met fellow student Marcelino Abarra. The two fell in love and got engaged. Then Marcelino moved to Manila to take a job as a sanita-tion engineer for the Metro Manila Development Authority (MMDA), and they continued a long-distance romance for two years. Finally Vivian decided she, too, would find more opportunities in Manila, and moved there without finishing college. She got a job as a filing clerk.
After a five-year engagement, Vivian and Marcelino wed in 1981. Eventually they bought a house in Manila and had three sons: Gerald, Jason and Jonathan.
While Marcelino worked at the MMDA (eventually putting in 28 years), Vivian ran a mini-mart out of one room in their home. It not only supplemented the family's income, but neighbors gathered there. "Neighbors know each other in the Philippines," says Vivian, "not like here."
Over the years, Vivian's aunties moved to America - specifically, to Seattle - and when her parents retired, they joined them. Soon the lot of them were asking the Abarras to move here as well. Vivian and Marcelino applied for visas in 1988 - and waited 14 years for them to be granted.
"Wait is shorter if you are single," says Vivian. Having offspring further complicates matters. Once the dependent turns 21, the immigration category changes.
Just days before Ger-ald's 21st birthday, the Abarras were granted their visas. "We rush to get ready!" says Vivian. On Aug. 28, 2002, she flew over with Gerald and Jason, via Tokyo and Hawaii. On Aug. 30, Ger-ald celebrated his birthday with some of his aunties, his grandparents and many great-aunties.
Marcelino was delayed because the authorities misspelled his name on his visa, and it took several months to correct the error. Jonathan stayed behind with him, and the two came over in November.
By that time Vivian was employed. Two weeks after her arrival, she heard about a job opening at the Laundromat on Queen Anne, run by Maytag at that time. The person who interviewed her was longtime manager Mely Esto-capio, also from the Philippines. Mely immediately became Vivian's advocate, urging the owners to hire her. They did.
Now Vivian is the manager, Mely has just returned to the Philippines and the Laundromat has new owners. "New owners are good bosses," says Vivian with a smile.
At work Vivian's tasks don't vary much, but dealing with the public can be unpredictable. She sometimes finds condoms in people's pockets, and once a "crazy man" stripped naked to wash the clothes he wore. When Vivian asked him to cover himself, he became violent. "I had to call 911," she says, laughing at the memory.
On paydays she goes to the Foulee Market near her home on Beacon Hill and stocks up on Filipino groceries. She cooks dishes from her native cuisine such as adobo (meat or seafood and vegetables cooked in vinegar and spices), kare-kare (a thick oxtail stew) and sinigang (stew in a sour broth). Her family feasts on them outside whenever possible. It is not as hot here as in the Philippines, but the weather accommodates picnics often enough for her. "We eat in our back yard, or go to my aunties'," says Vivian.
All three of the Abarra sons still live with Vivian and Marcelino. "It is the way of our culture," she says. The family owns a microphone and has karaoke sessions. "We like to sing oldies," says Vivian, "like Tom Jones, Bee Gees, Bread." Vivian plays the guitar and used to accompany her church choir back in the Philippines. She is Roman Catholic, as are more than 80 percent of Filipinos.
Also like many Filipinos, Vivian is multilingual. She speaks Tagalog and the regional dialect Pangasinanse, and she understands Ilocano, the dialect spoken in Marcelino's native region. Of course, she practices her English every day.
Whether or not they become U.S. citizens, Vivian and Mar-celino plan to return to the Philippines when they retire. (Marcelino is a maintenance technician at Bayview Manor.) They have been back once since emigrating, for three weeks last year. They visited relatives (Vivian still has three sisters there) and their house, which they are renting out. "We miss our house," says Vivian. "We have dog there, all our furniture. Life is simple back home."
But their sons will stay in America. "Their future," says Vivian, "that's why we are here." Gerald, now 24, works at a PCC Natural Market. Ironically, having already graduated with a degree in nautical engineering in the Philippines, he was offered a good job there but had to turn it down to emigrate. Jason, 21, not discouraged by his brother's experience, studies civil engineering at North Seattle Community College. Jonathan, 18, just graduated from Rainier Beach High School.
With her large but close extended family splintered across the globe, Vivian has said many farewells. "But my mother and aunties teach me to be strong!" says Vivian, punching the air with both fists. That strength has helped her adjust to a new culture as well.
Vivian thinks that that culture is clean - not a surprising observation from someone who does laundry for a living.
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