Pigs life

As a lifetime city boy I still find it strange to see such livestock walking and making noises around my City here in the Philippines, at first its great to have that rural feel within the City but as mentioned a few hundred times before it can be frustrating to not sleep because of the constant wildlife that refuses to sleep the western times.

Now I used to be a butcher longtime ago but even then I would cut up the carcass of the Pigs that in most cases had been cleaned up before arriving on my butchers table, even in most cases the eyes are removed.

Here I get graphic details of a different treatment as I often have to share a meal table with a decapitated Pigs head eyes looking at me as I eat him.

“I hope you are enjoying my body and it was worth my death!!” i HEAR IT SAY.

Even before its inevitable death I pass many Pigs on my walks each day who’s eyes look at me with that stare of foreboding. I have seen alive and dead pigs being transported on motorbikes, Jeeps and even on top of cars, those who are alive are normally tied so tight that they must almost be pre roasting in the Sun.

Now I can block most of this from my mind when I tuck into a Pig roast or a juicy Bacon sandwich, but the other day I was unable to block out that death meant my meat.

In the next house they keep many Pigs and the other morning about 5am I heard the Pigs as normal until I heard the most horrific terrifying shrill of pain from the animal and it continued for about a minute, the screams were causing me to gasp for air myself as I could hear the last terrified of an animal leaving this planet in the most terrible way.

Finally the noise suddenly stopped just as it started and I could not sleep anymore and went to the fridge for a reassuring Orange juice, which was next to a packet of fresh Bacon!!!

I decided on Egg on toast instead.

The Congressman wants what?

Do you remember a couple of months ago I had an article where I advocated the Jeepney fares should be determined by the private sector, not dictated by the government?  Over the years I have had numerous columns where I pointed out that the Philippine government, in my opinion, gets too involved in matters that really should be private.  Also, many Filipinos, in my opinion, look for the government to tell them what to do, to protect them, etc. instead of taking care of their own needs.

So, do you know who Manny Pacquiao is?  I have written about him before, and he is quite famous anyway, so I am sure that the vast majority of you know who he is.  Manny is a boxing champion who hails from General Santos City, a place where I used to live.  Pacquiao is a World Champion, and almost all of his fights occur in Las Vegas, so he is not just a regional fighter, this guy is a world known (and feared) talent.

Manny is currently preparing for his biggest fight of his career.  On December 6, he will be fighting Oscar de la Hoya.  de la Hoya is much bigger than Manny is, but this fight will pay a huge amount of money for Manny, and I believe that although he is smaller, he still has a chance to emerge victorious - he is that good.

I was rather surprised the other day when I saw an article in a local newspaper about a Philippine Congressman, Rufus Rodriguez from Cagayan de Oro.  Congressman Rodriguez is urging the World Boxing Council (WBC) to cancel the fight.  He is also urging the Philippine Games and Amusement Board to freeze Pacquiao’s boxing license until after December 6.  Why is he seeking these actions?  Because he feels that Pacquiao may lose the fight!  My goodness!  Shouldn’t it be up to Manny Pacquiao to decide if he wants to take the chance of losing?

Congressman Rodriguez has also said that he fears that Pacquiao may get injured in the bout.  Isn’t it possible that any boxer could get hurt in any fight that he participates in?  If so, maybe boxing should be outlawed?  Certainly legislation should not be inacted any time that a Philippine boxer “might lose or get hurt.”

Doesn’t this just glaringly point out that the Philippine Government steps into places where it simply doesn’t belong?  I admit, I am conservative, and I tend to push for smaller government in almost every instance.  But, in this case, I think that a person of any political persuasion should be able to come to agreement that the Congressman is over-reaching his role by a long, long ways.

Age Is Just A State Of Mind?

Last week in this column we had a few comments regarding age.  That got me thinking a little about age and how it often relates to life here in the Philippines.  If you aren’t familiar with the culture and conventions of the Philippines, it’s no secret you will have some getting “used to” to do.

One area you’ll find very much different here are some distinct differences in attitudes and even rules about age … as well as some other human attributes.  Just as with the ongoing discussion on my own blog, PhilFAQS and Bob’s column recently on the “they all look alike to me” issue, there are a lot of other things here in the Philippines that will immediately fail the current US Politically Correct test.

I’m 63 years old, according to the calendar.  Most of the time, though, I feel about 16.  (this happens especially when I get to thinking about what I want to do when I grow up ;-)) Sometimes a little older, but God has blessed me with good health and I don’t feel old at all.  There is a current view held by some that 60 is the new 40.  Don’t know if I would buy into that completely but I certainly don’t feel any older than I did when I was 40 … except perhaps when climbing stairs.

In the US there are very few things I can’t do at 63 that I couldn’t do at 23.  Enlist in the armed services or join a police or fire department with legally mandated retirement ages are a few of a very small list.  In fact, Congress recently changed the law so that I could even be a scheduled airline pilot for a few more years … when I was in the Federal Service I had a number of workmates over the years in their 70’s  One fellow when I was working in Japan who was held in some reverence by his Japanese staff members because he had worked with General MacArthur in the Dai-Ichi Building in Tokyo back in1945 … he finally retired, of his own free will, at a ripe old age of 86.

It’s not that way here in the Philippines.  If, for example, I decided to buy a home and went for bank financing, guess what?  Too old.  Almost all long-term consumer credit requires the applicant to be under 60.  Follow up on a help-wanted job in the newspaper that looks interesting?  Might as well save my time and theirs … age limits, typically below 30 or 35 are attached to virtually every help wanted ad.

Not long ago I noted an ad in the window of a Jollibee at an NLEX rest stop.  “Entry level cleaning person needed.  Must have for year college degree, experience and preferably be female, attractive and under 24.”  This was a job, undoubtedly at about $10 USD per day. 6 days a week, swinging a mop and wielding a toilet brush in the rest rooms.  All you attractive younger ladies reading this are free to send me your contact details, I’ll put you in touch ;-)  But don’t forget that 4 year diploma you worked so hard to earn, you’ll need that too, in addition to the blessings of youth.

Most health insurance companies stop providing coverage here at 65 also … kind of one of those Catch 22’s in my book.  Unless you get ‘tagged’ by something serious at a young age you don’t really need health insurance all that much until you’re past 65 or so … exactly when you can’t have it here.

So indeed, there are some age difference things to get used to.  But there’s always a plus side.  No ne cares if you send a 10 or 12 year old to the store to buy ciggies or beer or get a prescription filled.  Very convenient in that way.  To paraphrase Tine Turner, “What’s age got to do with it”?

It’s a different life here, that gets proven nearly every day … at least to me … but after all, I’m old.

On the road home…

It seems that Feyma’s mother has embarked on a trip.  She is on the road home.  She actually started this journey several years ago, but over the past few days, it seems that she has nearly reached her destination.  I am not with her and can’t see what she is seeing, but I am sure that a lot of people are waiting for her with open arms.

We got the call from one of Feyma’s sisters on Friday last week.  Mama seemed to be very near death.  The timing for this was not good, but no matter when something like this happens, it can never be “good timing,” can it?  You see, the call came on Friday afternoon, and one of our kids was scheduled to have his birthday party on Saturday.  Kids don’t understand these things, and for a child a birthday party is a big thing, so Feyma made the decision to stay in Davao until Sunday.  Sunday morning, though, she headed back to her birthplace, Patag, Sarangani.  Thankfully, Mama held on during this time, and is still alive, as I write this.  So, they will get to visit with her mom, at least one last time.

Over the last five years or so, there have been a number of times when we thought that Mama would pass soon, but each time she made it through.  This time though, it seems much more serious, and we don’t expect that she will last much longer.  She can no longer talk, hasn’t eaten for several days, or even drank anything, so she is in very bad shape.

I would have liked to have gone myself to see her one last time.  Although Mama and I have never been able to communicate much (she doesn’t speak any English at all), we always had a close relationship.  I know it sounds strange, but that’s just the way it’s been.  However, neither the kids nor I went on his trip.  Unfortunately, that part of the country, Sarangani, has been somewhat critical in the last month or two.  There were some MILF attacks in the area, and army operations in the area are still ongoing.  Because of this, we felt it was best for the whole family to not go.  I really didn’t want Feyma to go either, but how could I say no, it’s her mother after all.  When somebody very close in the family is dying, sometimes you have to  take a chance.

Feyma plans to stay just one day, and then return to Davao.  Of course, she might stay longer, but that depends on her mother’s health.  If things stay as they are now though Feyma will return by tomorrow.  I know she would like to stay longer to be with her mother, but with kids and everything sometimes you can’t always do what you want to do.  In addition, I hate being separated from Feyma, if she is out of town, I’m always on edge.

Mama has suffered many strokes in the last several years, and her health is very bad.  Although you never wish for anybody to die, we do hope that Mama’s suffering will end soon.  We take comfort in the fact that we know that when Mama leaves us, she will join Papa in a place far better than where we are now.  And, she won’t suffer any more.

I’m looking forward to seeing Feyma again, and I hope that having seen Mama she feels okay about the situation, even though I know this is a hard time for her.

Getting a Haircut

Last week, on my way to Germany, I had a transit in Abu Dhabi. After dealing with some banking stuff, I decided to pay my old barber a visit. This barbeshop was a Bangladeshi joint, where you are offered hot chai or Arabic coffee when you walk in. So, I sit down and get a trim. This isn’t any salon… No way. These guys are old fashioned barbers… They’ll trim any ear hairs, nose hairs, eyebrows without even thinking twice. I then ask for a shave. He wields it expertly like a Samurai, with a net effect of being closer and smoother than a baby’s bum. Scalp massage, face scrubbing with this horrid-smelling Indian balm… Total damage to the wallet of around USD 5.

When I was young and new to Chicago, I was befriended by an old black man where I worked, named “Johnny B”. Johnny was a good guy, and he taught me many things. One night, we were talking after work, and he told me, “John, you know, one of the first problems black folks run into when they move into a white neigborhood is finding a place to get a decent haircut.” I didn’t think of it much at the time, but there are differences between black hair, white hair, and asian hair… Physical differences that impact the way hair is cut. In fact, my ex-wife used to be a hair dresser at Paul Mitchell… She earned big tips from Asian women because she was the only one at her salon who could cut Asian hair. Long and straight, if you goof it up, mistakes are instantly noticeable.

When I first started to travel in Asia, getting a haircut proved challenging. For some reason, I always ended up looking like either Hitler or Moe from the 3 Stooges. In fact, my stop when I was in Abu Dhabi was to fix the terrible haircut I got in Hong Kong a couple of weeks ago at a salon. I don’t like salons. Somehow, they are emasculating. I can almost feel my testicles shrink from the moment I walk in.I like BARBERS, with a pole outside, copies of Playboy and girlie posters on the walls. It’s also a good sign if they have liquor on their breath.

I’ve had some unusual incidents, too. I had a haircut in Balikpapan, Indonesia where the barber kept pouring witch hazel on my head. I think I looked like that kid from Home Alone when he did that. I also took a leap of faith once in India and got a haircut from a blind barber. He managed to cut my hair perfectly even!

Haircuts in the Philippines are a real bargain. I have seen prices as low as 25 pesos in the provinces. I have not yet found a real barber that I like in Manila yet. I’ve gone to David’s Salon a few times, under pressure from Becky, but it’s still a salon. Last time, the bakla hairdresser kept trying to mousse up my hair and spike it. I ended up paying 750 pesos for the “experience”.

Now, when I am in Abulug, I go to Charlie the Barber. Charlie’s shop is in Ballesteros, the next town over. No water. No electricity. Posters of Luningning and the other Wowowee girls on the walls. Of course, the TV is on showing some Kung Fu movie or something the whole time. My kinda shop! Charlie used to give haircuts to US military, so he knows western hair. Only 40 pesos, but he’ll appreciate drinking a cold San Miguel with you when you are done. Quite an experience… When I’ve gone there, I usually have 5 - 10 people standing outside watching the Kano getting a haircut.I also will usually get a shave there, but that straight razor could smart a bit in the heat… No worries though. I’m just going to have to try a few more little shops in Manila… I can’t run to Ballesteros every time I need a haircut.

Samal Island promotion?

Let me start as follows: for all those, who don’t know anything about Samal Island - here are some briefly explanations:

Samal Island covers a total area of more than 30,000 hectares. The main island stretches about 34 kilometers between the southern tip of Panabo City, Davao del Norte and the mouth of Davao Gulf. It’s meanwhile called the Island Garden City of Samal or IGACoS. There is no dry season. It’s only ten minutes by launch from Davao City via Babak (the nearest) though there are some routes in Samal and Kaputian. I always enjoy taking a bus from Lanang or Boulevard in Davao City via ferryboat to the Central Ware House terminal in Peneplata on Samal Island.

I haven’t been on Samal Island since almost three months. The launching of “Precious Garden” in Miranda (five minutes away from Babak harbour, if one takes a tricycle) has been a very good reason to go there again. “Precious Garden” is owned by my good friend Ulrich Kronberg (German publisher, book author and journalist, based in Hamburg - maybe you remember my column in his SAMALNEWS) and his wife Preciosa “Kikay”. You can hang out in “Precious Garden” for some drinks at the bar, or enjoy a coffee in the coffee shop, or, you can have your lunch or dinner, or, as a Samal resident, you are able to buy European goods there, if you don’t have the time to rush to Davao City. -  In December a pizzeria is be planning be launched - also plans for a hotel with swimming pool have been mentioned scheduled for 2009.

Being again on Samal Island because of that occasion, I could feel again my desire to live here - or, to visit this beautiful island more often in future.

You can really enjoy wonderful beaches all around the island. The water is excellent for scuba and snorkeling. I love nature as well as adventures - so, visiting Samal can never be complete without going to natural springs which the island presents.

Are you a diver? Try the Coral Garden and Marine Park in Linosutan or Isla Reta or Malipano Island. Visit the Hagimit Falls in Cawag or the Mago-gawon Falls in Tagbaobo.

There are many little caves in this island. The Baga Cave is the biggest.

You can climb and conquer Puting Bato, the highest mountain peak, around 1350 feet above sea level. One of the highlights is the Annual IGaCoS Festival as they’re founding anniversary at every 7th day of March.

Does Samal Island still need more promotion? Actually not. I just wanted to voice out, that it is really one of my hidden paradises. And - it’s big enough still to find hidden places… .

Great! Unbelievable!

Walang ganyan sa States

Since living here, I notice a lot of stuff now that I would never have thought of before.

Bob and I were having dinner with a friend the other night at a nice place here in Davao. The place was in a nice subdivision. On the way to the restaurant I was thinking I like this place but I would not like it to be our next door neighbor. My goodness I would have hated fighting through a traffic when the restaurant has lots of customers that night. I would not like it when they would have customers during late at night swimming, and they might be a bit louder than they should because they are a little drunk. It is fence really high that you could not peak inside, but still the sounds from the restaurant you can hear it when your next door or few houses away.

We had this experience before, like 3 years ago. We lived in a very high end subdivision here in Davao. Our house that we were renting was just across the club house and the tennis court. Every time there was like a wedding, birthday or any party at the club house we could hear it at our house. It’s also hard fighting through the traffic lots of cars park outside our house. When they had the music played its too loud. When somebody played tennis we could hear the ball hitting the racket and with the cheers, its really loud. Can’t complain because that is just part of it living there. Let me tell you we are not happy with it at first.

Just like right now not too far from our place there’s one quiet a popular restaurant. I saw lots of time they offer lunch and dinner buffet. I think that’s what they are famous for is serving buffet, of course they are loaded with people. I don’t really like to go that route when they had lots of customer because its hard to pass there and some customers will park at the main road. This restaurant is also next door to a nice houses here in Davao. I guess they just don’t mind it. I really think that people here are used to this kind of set up.

Oh well Bob and I always had this saying, especially if it fascinates us we just say right away “WELCOME TO THE PHILIPPINES”. Or, “WALANG GANYAN SA STATES” ( Theirs none like this in the States). Honestly Bob and I are already used to living here that I think it doesn’t bother us now. I think living here was difficult at first. Now we just laugh it off. That is one thing we love about the Philippines lots of stuff fascinates us and lots of it makes us laugh now. It sounds weird but really living now here for 8 years we can tolerate almost anything I think. I hope so though. I guess try to have an open mind before moving here and have a lot of patience.

Mabuhay!

Reggae music?

A few nights ago I went Matina Town Square here in Davao City and was treated to a fantastic musical show that blended the music of the native Mindanao tribes along with influence of the Reggae style. To be honest I am not a reggae fan apart from the great Bob Marley, but on this occasion I was treated to a blend of music that is hard to describe, but I will try.

The vocals were like ABBA and the instruments were like SANTANA ,even though some of the more tribal instruments I could not recognise but the sounds the costumes and the dancing made my dinner that night a wonderful experience.

In one of the back stages a team of drummers aged from around seven years old to a lot older hammered out a constant beat in the night heat, which again was a pleasure to watch.

Now the cost to me for the whole night was only a few dollars and that was for the local menu and a nice cool beer or two. Anyone getting jealous?

Social Networking, Philippine Style

Web 2.0.  Do you know what that is?  Ever heard the saying before?  Well, basically Web 2.0 is the second incarnation of the World Wide Web.  Most people would agree that Web 1.0 (although that term is rarely used) would be from the mid-90’s through 2000 or so, when the tech stocks took a big plunge.  A few years later, Web 2.0 was born, and continues to this day.  One of the foundations of Web 2.0 these days is Social Networking.

There are lots of Social Networking sites:  Facebook, MySpace, LinkedIn and dozens of other Social Networking sites are ruling the Web these days and attracting millions of users.

Here in the Philippines, though, these famous Social Networking sites are not the kings of the web.  The site that draws in thousands… no millions of Filipinos is Friendster.  In earlier years, Friendster was used by people all over the world, but these days, Friendster is dominated by Filipinos, and some other countries in Asia.

For me, to be honest, I am not much into Social Networking.  I have accounts on a few Social Networking sites, but don’t get too involved with them.  I do stay somewhat active in Frienster, though, because most people who follow my various websites and blogs are Friendster users, so I feel that keeping at least a bit active on Friendster is advantageous for me.

I even have a “Fan Club” on Frienster, which is called “Friends of Mindanao Bob.”  It is not too active, but I do make some announcements there, and I encourage you to join the group, if you wish to follow my various activities living here in the Philippines.

How about you?  Do you have Friendster?  If you have some connection to the Philippines (and if you read my site, you obviously do!), you really should have Frienster to learn more about, and make more friends in the Philippines.  You certainly can meet lots of Filipinos on Friendster, no doubt on that!

Want to be my friend on Friendster?  If so, go to my profile, and invite me to be your friend.  If you want to join my Fan Club, go have a look!

Hermogena’s Twilight, II

The rather dilettantish occasions I had showed up in at the Instituto Cervantes Manila near Taft Avenue were interjected with less sophisticated visits to the Philippine General Hospital (PGH), which is along Taft Avenue. We’d decided, you see, that grandmother needed urgent medical attention.

Last weekend I made an unfashionably late entrance to the cultural center for the World Book Day Open House, and tomorrow I am scheduled to see a concerto by a classical trio from Taiwan. (I am convinced that the best things in life are free!) Today, however, I – along with family – had to drive yet once more to the student-populated area of Manila, an area noteworthy for its ugly and beautiful honesty. Of course, traffic today was terrible as usual, and the buses belched black smoke as expected.

My first impression of PGH, upon our arrival, was that it didn’t look the same as before – ‘before’ meaning about two, three years ago when I went to visit a terminally-ill aunt; thick tarpaulin banners (all congratulatory) now hung about the edifice; large old-fashioned murals decorated the walls; old plaques had been wiped clean and new ones, installed. Even the windows were now of multi-colored stained glass with round patterns, as in church, or perhaps really after the effect of church.

Did we enter an insufficiently-funded museum by mistake? I made these observations as I pushed grandmother on her wheelchair, ever so carefully, as if we were in an old park at which the renewed scenery was to be taken note of, if not admired.

And it was convenient (at least to my wandering eyes) that the Department of Surgery was located at the southernmost wing; strolling past the other units, I peeped at the slightly opened doors to see the Neurology ICU, where blanket-covered patients were sleeping restfully alongside their harboring IV drips; and the Plastic Surgery Department, where, at its reception area, a framed painting of a naked woman’s back (very Helen Hunt in As Good As It Gets) was displayed; the psychiatric wing I didn’t need to witness.

Wheeling grandmother farther, I saw that the interior of the charity wards had now been painted with a very gentle caramel, and this sharpened the view of human figures lying on the white beds with their disfigured arms, throbbing heads, bandaged feet, and bleeding noses. Initially, I did mistake the renovated wards as the pay wards, though of course the overpopulation of the above-described patients plainly indicated otherwise. It indicated ‘charity’.

Grandmother’s checkup was scheduled to take place at the periphery of Ward Six. It was almost in a separate wing, dark, isolated, with paint peeling off, broken schoolroom chairs, candy wrappers dancing with the yellow leaves on the cold floor, peanut shells, plastic bags, two stray black cats. (I have no idea why a hospital would have two stray black cats inside its premises, regardless of its being a government hospital. What if someone superstitious accidentally passed them by?) But everything was peaceful and quiet. Along the hallway, I sat dangerously on the steel ledge to regard the new playground below. They said it was a project of politician donors for specially-educated children.

Not long after, grandmother was called to one of the wing’s clinics, though she just as quickly emerged from a very brief consultation. She was finally to be confined. Resident doctor of Surgery Department was to be there shortly. Father made some phone calls while appearing to need a cigarette.

And so it was that we waited by this wing’s hallway for over four hours, waiting anxiously and furiously for a ‘Hazel’ to see to us and hand over grandmother’s admission orders, waiting as the sun set and the dirty wind blew, waiting while grandmother slept through the seconds and the minutes and the hours. For my own amusement, I had brought a book, but I fancied that it was a little depressing to be reading Dostoevsky’s The Idiot in such a setting. I managed only a few chapters.

And then at last! The papers! They had not forgotten us after all. Quickly we rose to find out where grandmother would be staying. Ward Six, they said; another charity ward with caramel walls. Jorgen, my prodigiously athletic cousin, lifted our still sleeping grandmother to her new bed, and immediately her adult diapers were refreshed. Of course we had to lift a blanket to cover the scene: the patients’ beds were no more than just about twenty-four inches apart, making a tincture of privacy impossible and leaving between these short gaps a humble white table where one could put things and small towels perhaps damp with alcohol and such. As with others’, several tiny cockroaches slyly and rapidly crawled on grandmother’s table. She didn’t notice, though. She slept all throughout the initial admission procedures, with her eyeglasses on, as if it made her see her dreams more clearly.

Tomorrow, after the concerto at Cervantes, I will be walking to the hospital to tend to grandmother. I believe this won’t cause any inconvenience to any party. I will read, the nurses will be by their stations, and grandmother will sleep. I’ll enjoy her company. And perhaps I too will cherish imagining her dreams – come what may.