Any questions, comments suggestions?

Hey everyone! Just wanted to ask if anyone back home in the Land of Oz has any blog subjects they would like me to include. Sometimes it's hard to know what to write or what people want to know so your comments would be appreciated. Happy reading!

Public Transport in the Philippines

Something that foreigners like myself find challenging in a place like the Philippines is learning to get around on the many different forms of public transport. In the Philippines there are 8 major forms: Taxi, FX, Train, Bus, Jeepney, Tricycle, Motorcycle and Pedi cab.

• Taxi – The most expensive form of public transport and sometimes prone to be a little more expense than necessary if one doesn’t insist on using the meter or has no idea where they are going. The best tip is to agree on the location and using the meter before getting in. Once you are in exhaust your knowledge of the Tagalog language so that the driver thinks you know what you’re doing and where you’re going. But be careful, it can backfire if you have no idea what you’re saying or the taxi driver becomes very friendly and asks for your phone number!
• FX – An FX is like a long wheel base 4WD with two passengers in the front with the driver, four in the back seat (I advise against the middle seats as the steel supports under the seat become a literal “pain in the butt” after 5-10 minutes) and then four are seated sideways opposite each other in the back/boot/trunk/storage area (pick your terminology). It costs up to 40P or (1AUD or 0.75USD) for a long trip. But the advantage is that its still air conditioned, well most of the time anyway.
• Train – The next form of transportation in order of price (but often faster than driving) is the train. It costs about 15 PhP (0.40AUD or 0.30USD) for a one way trip from one end of the line to the other. which has 3 main lines in Manila. The MRT, LRT and LRTA. I use the MRT often and find it comfortable enough with its air conditioning and occasional available seat.
• Bus – Next in the list of relatively comfortable and inexpensive longer transportation methods is the bus. But there’s “aircon” and “air” con buses. Just make sure on the longer trips in an air conditioned bus to take a sweater or jacket as Filipinos like extremes. They crank the air conditioning to highest level whenever possible! And be aware that out in the province it can get very full on the smaller buses. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention that Filipino buses are not built with western people in mind. The seats are closer together and I inevitably find myself with my average length white western legs forced against the seat in front or out in the aisle. It's hard to give prices but a long overnight trip to the mountains might cost you up to 300-400P (10AUD or 7.50USD) but a short ride in the city would only set you back 10P (0.30AUD or 0.25USD)
• Jeepney – Then comes the famous jeepneys which are probably the best example of “sardinization” I can find in the Philippines. In other words people cram themselves inside like sardines. They have a set route and cost a minimum of 6PhP and anywhere up to about 20PhP but average about 10P (0.30AUD or 0.25USD). Needless to say, they are not air conditioned. You sit sideways trying not to stare at the people opposite you despite that everyone else in the jeepney is staring at your pigmentation. Just keep in mind that you need to know the route you are taking quite well or make some new friends on board because it's very difficult to see landmarks outside. Oh, in the province you might be forced or choose to ride on the roof of a jeepney. It can be quite dangerous though so think it through carefully. The drivers have spent a little too much time dreaming that they are Colin McRae or Michael Schumacher. And with a vehicle that is quite top heavy cornering can be an interesting experience on top. But by far away the more interesting experience is dodging the electric wires in some provincial areas. I once found myself “astride one of these mighty beasts” ducking and weaving to avoid the electrical wires which were coming so close to us perched on sacks of rice that we often had to lay down flat on our backs in order to avoid being knocked off like dominoes. Just don’t tell my mum about it ok! Shhh…
• Tricycle – The next famous form of public transport is the tricycle. A motorcycle fixed with double shock absorbers and a side car can seriously hold up to 2-3 behind the driver, 5-6 inside and even a few hanging off the back on top. I’ve tried every position and enjoyed the experience sitting cross legged on top sipping my fresh buko (young coconut) juice straight from the fruit. There were only a few times I needed to hold on for dear life! Tricycles normally operate within a certain area in the city like a subdivision and can cost per person (5-10PhP) or a special of one to two people (20-40PhP) depending on the length of the trip and how well you can negotiate with the driver. In the province different areas have different designs. Pagadian for example has the side car set on a 45 degree angle so that you sit back into the car as you ascend and descend the steep road to and from the bus terminal and the city centre. You could probably walk up the hill faster than the tricycle but the experience is well worth it.
• Motorcycle – By far the craziest form of transport is by motorcycle. They cost a similar price to tricycles but go door to door in provincial areas. I know it might seem innocent enough. “Just hop on the back of the rider”. I used to think that way until I saw up to 10 people on one motorcycle. How is that possibel you ask? They attached planks of wood on the back which people straddle and then put weights on the front forks to maintain the balance. I’ve only been on with 4 other people and our luggage. One in front of the and driver, me straddling the luggage tied to the side with my arms full of 2 or 3 backpacks, then two passengers behind me with their hands full too. This was on dirt roads at around 60kph mind you. Despite the cowboy style legs sticking out both sides of the bike causing me to stretch myself more than I cared to, it felt surprisingly stable and comfortable. It’s a different story as the driver though. I took two other people on a scooter down dirt roads a few times and now admire these guys who manage to sit so awkwardly but drive with so much control and poise.
• Pedi cab – The final form of public transportation is the pedi cab which is the same as a tricycle but under pedal power rather than engine power. Consequently, you travel much shorter distances, much slower and at a lot less cost. Maybe 10P door to door. I rarely use them because I can usually walk the same distance and feel lazy if I take one. But it does help the small young guys with legs like tree trunks to make a living.

A mountain paradise

I’ve always enjoyed hiking, but these days my body is complaining more about it than my brain is. I really need to exercise more regularly otherwise hiking will become more of a impossible dream than a possible reality. Take for instance my trip to Batad with some friends of mine. After a 9 hour overnight bus ride and a hour or so hanging on for dear life at the back of a jeepney we arrived at the summit near the small town of Batad. We took a deep breath of fresh air, snapped a few obligatory photos and threw the packs on our backs with enthusiasm and expectancy.

We had heard about Batad and wanted to see if it was as idyllic as the tourism brochures and tourists blogs had made it seem. As we made our way down the stepped path winding its way down into the valley below we watched the traditional ceremony being conducted in the distance. Red smoke wafted from one of the distant ridges as tribal people appeared to pray and dance around the fire. We never did get the real story behind it though.

After a hearty lunch of omelet and pita bread with mountain tea we unpacked things and decided to embark on our first adventure (as if the events of the night and morning had not been enough for any intrepid adventurer). The local people told us that the waterfall was worth visiting so we got a few directions (which consisted of its over there beyond that ridge) and set out with our cameras and day packs. As we approached the rice terraces that we needed to navigate we split up into two groups. Not by choice mind you. I followed one of my friends and the rest decided to go a different way after getting some bargains and better directions at one of the huts on the way. They ended taking the line of least resistance across the rice terraces about halfway up the mountain. But my friend and I founded some less well maintained tracks up and down and across the terrace walls. We knew that we were taking the alternative route about half way into it when we spotted our friends having a easier time of it. But through sheer force of will and some creative negotiations and climbing we made our way to the meeting point on the opposite ridge via part of the town in the valley. I’m still perplexed as to how these people who are often 80+ make there way up and down the terraces gracefully and effortlessly. I did notice that part of the trick lies in rocking from side to side as they negotiated the small rock steps spaced diagonally on the sides of the terrace walls. There’s gotta be more to it than that though cos I still looked more like a bumbling tourist than a seasoned old timer. Upon arriving we made friends with the local children who then showed us the way to the path after we “bribed” them with some snacks. Then we breathed a sigh of relief as we looked at the downward path entering the next valley. It was a welcome relief to our tired and sweaty bodies. After taking one wrong path (stay to the left) we found our way to the lookout and beheld one of the most beautiful and powerful waterfalls I have ever seen. We took a few pics and then descended to take a dip in the “cool” waters. When everyone plucked up the courage and after much coaxing we all decided to brave the current and try our luck at going into deeper water closer to the waterfall. One of the guys (Kirk) and myself ended up being a little braver or crazier than the others by struggling our way around the edge of the far rocky shore to get in behind the waterfall. I tell you, it’s easier said than done. The only point of real nervousness came on the way out as my knee smashed into a submerged rock and the underwater current threatened to pull me back in under the waterfall. Having been suitably refreshed we took more pics and then made our way back up the path that seemed to wind endlessly upwards. Then we navigated a little more successfully the route back to our accommodation at Simon’s Inn on the opposite ridge.

I think I went to bed about 6pm that night as I hadn’t slept for the previous 3 nights and felt like my legs were about to give way. I slept through the night until about 8am the next day which was a welcome relief. And surprisingly enough, my legs didn’t feel too bad in the morning. So with plenty of rest and motivation to do some more exploring we decided to tackle to opposite ridge again, but this time we would go up to the viewpoint rather than down to the waterfall. My legs almost gave in a few times as I felt like “the little train that couldn’t” more than the one that could. But the view was worth it (I think, but can’t be too sure because I still had to go down again afterwards). But with the little side to side action and the force of gravity helping me I wobbled my way back down the mountain after getting all the rest and nourishment I could. We then managed to find our way to a little place to eat down in the valley where Chris and I had gotten geographically embarrassed the previous day.

One of my favourite things about Batad is the inquisitive and playful children who played “swordsman” using bamboo poles with us, a form of hopscotch and some other games we just made up on the spot. Then we got directions to a hanging bridge we had heard about which were surprisingly accurate, except for the fact that they forgot to tell me about the man-eating dog that tried to attack me. I was in his back yard mind you! But then again in my defense, you never know what marks one’s persons property from the next one or if the fence means “keep out” or “come in”. We did, nevertheless, make it to the hanging bridge and manage to pluck up the courage to float and walk down the river and around the rocks.

If you ever get the chance, try standing face forward leaning into a fast current (you just need a sloping rock to stand on which enables you to stay in one place). I’ve never been sky diving but I’m sure the sensation is the same! A little nerve wracking at times when the pressure threatens to sweep you away but an awesome experience as your immoveable body and the opposing power leaves you with an almost weightless feeling.

The sun was going down so we decided it was time to make our way back to the inn which was pretty much straight up from where we were. Let me give you some advice at this point, don’t try to make your way through rice terraces at night. The paths are barely noticeable during the day let alone in fading light or darkness. Suffice to say, we learnt the hard way.

That night we stayed up playing a little cards and decided to leave the following morning because a friend from Manila was expecting us to come and visit him in the mountains close to where we were. It may have been “close” but it still took us 4 jeepney rides including one mudslide obstacle, several hours of traveling. Not to mention plenty of stares by locals who found it hilarious that 3 out of the 5 us insisted on sitting on the roof of the jeepneys as they wound through the mountain roads. We arrived at the "nearby" town (which we though was our destination) at about 4.30pm only to find out we need to hike for another 4 hours literally “into the clouds”. It brought a new realization to the quote that “we walk by faith not by sight” as we navigated our way up the mountain passes as the sun went down and the moon shone dimly on the other side of the mountain we were climbing. But we made it to our destination around 9pm that night. Native duck soup, vegetables and mountain rice has never tasted so good! We all collapsed into bed under mosquito nets and finally fell asleep to the sound of mosquitoes trying to find an alternate route under the mosquito nets and sink their teeth into our sweet white skin.

The next day we did it all in reverse and trudged, rnn or rolled our way down the mountain, into a tricycle and then onto a bus back home to Manila. The tourism brochures and tourists blogs were right. It is a mounatin paradise.

Sensational Sagada

Sagada. It’s no secret that this is one of the favourite tourist spots in the Philippines, behind beaches of Boracay and the rice terraces of Banaue. I haven’t been to the beaches of Boracay yet but I stopped in on the rice terraces in Banaue on my way to Sagada. Whilst I found them fascinating my attention was only held for 30 minutes and then I wanted to move on to the next site. Besides, they have rice terraces in Sagada and on the Halsema Road that may not be as big but are certainly just as beautiful and spectacular.

My friend and I from Australia made our way down to Quiapo in Manila to visit the Church of the Black Nazarene and one of the largest Mosques in Manila near the pirated DVD capital of the Philippines. After this we eventually found our way to the bus terminal after hopping on the wrong jeepney and ending up 20 minutes walk away from our destination. We could have caught a tricycle but I’m a firm believer in getting some exercise and enjoying the surroundings rather than lazily watching the wheels of cars and trucks sitting in a cramped tricycle. Don’t get me wrong, tricycles do come in handy and it helps support local people, but sometimes I like to stretch my legs and see the sites. Once we secured our tickets we had some dinner and waited for our bus that was due to leave 3 hours later at 10pm. I didn’t think the seats were allocated so I managed to rush and secure us the front seats. An amazing feat in a country where you have to push your way just to get buy a coke at the local sari-sari store. But then we found out that the seats were allocated and we were in the second last row with bags up to our ears and people crammed into the aisle. I felt so sorry for those poor Chinese tourists who were relegated to the fold down aisle seats. After wrestling our way back toour seats we settled in for a 13 hour bus ride on some interesting roads with some interesting driving. I can’t sleep on buses so with nothing to see and nothing to do aside from listen to music I anticipated my future adventure in Sagada. Although I did get to have the occasional laugh when my friend smacked his head on the window after drifting off to sleep. The sound was so loud that it almost echoed in the crowded bus! I know I shouldn’t laugh at such things but I just couldn’t help myself (like the time I laughed at my friend for stepping on a rake which catapulted the handle into his face).

We arrived in Banaue at about 8am and were greeted by a van going on to Sagada. After a brief stop at the lookout to the World Heritage listed Banaue Rice Terraces we continued our journey on to Sagada. But then halfway we got a flat tire and had to wait while it was changed. But that afforded us the opportunity to get out of the van to stretch our legs, take a few photos and enjoy a refreshing face wash in the freezing cold streams running down the mountainside. But then we hopped back in the van with our new Chinese tourist friends from the bus and proceeded to Sagada.

We arrived in Sagada like a James Bond martini “shaken but not stirred”. We immediately found a place to stay which was relatively easy and cheap. We paid 5AUD per night for a nice room with a view and a shared bathroom without hot water at St Joseph’s. Next time I’ll ask for hot water. The water is like ice in Sagada! That afternoon we hired a guide and visited the Hanging Coffins, Underground River and Little Waterfall. They’re not actually hanging coffins, but coffins that have either been placed in caves or cliff faces. The guide said that the name was something that the tourists gave to it and it ended up sticking. Being placed in a “hanging coffin” is a traditional and honorable way to be remembered after death rather than burials which were normally reserved for unnatural, accidental or murder deaths. The Underground River was pretty cool – quite literally too. So was the Little Waterfall which I went for a dive and swim in. We got some pretty good action shots which required me to dive several times. That night we had a really nice buffet dinner at the Log Cabin which was run by a French Chef. If you ever visit on a Saturday make sure you book in before lunch time for this all you can eat feast.

The next day we headed out to do the Cave Connection which was a climb and hike through 3 caves. I’d been caving numerous times in Australia but my friend Eric was enjoying the experience for the first time. I highly recommend this little 3-4 hour adventure. You experience climbing, rappelling, swimming, stalactites, underground waterfalls, and bats complete with the smell of guano (“Mmmm yummy!” ala Ace Ventura Pet Detective 2). Because there were only 2 of us and we had our own guide it cost us about 10AUD each. A bit expensive, but well worth it. We had lunch at the Yoghurt House on the way back and the food was delicious. I highly recommend this place. It serves breakfast, lunch and dinner with a great assortment of food including best yoghurt with muesli in the Philippines.

The next day we took it easy thinking that a van would come to pick us up about lunch time and take us back to Banaue where we had pre-booked and pre-paid for our bus trip to Manila. But we figured out pretty quickly that there was no way we could get back there as the van we had asked to pick us up did not come. Apparently this happens all the time. So we lost our tickets and money and had to ride the bus to Baguio on the Halsema Road. Despite the loss of money and the inconvenience I actually enjoyed the bus ride. I felt a little green at times with the winding road but the view and fresh air was nice. About halfway Eric tried balut (see my earlier blog about my experience) but I was disappointed that it didn’t have a well formed chick inside to surprise him. Along the way we passed the highest point in the Philippines road system and eventually made it to Baguio after 6 hours of ups and downs and twists and turns.

Once in Bagiuo we navigated our way through town to find a taxi who would take us to the Victory bus lines terminal to buy our tickets and have some dinner at a nearby restaurant. Then we got the finally got the break I was looking for and sat in the front seat on our way back to Manila. We arrived at my place at 2am exhausted but having thoroughly enjoyed our little weekend adventure.

Advice: Go on do it, it’ll be a blast!

The Endless Cycle of Poverty (Part 3)

Poverty can be cultural. I know that might sound strange and it might even seem preposterous in a place like the Philippines, but it’s true. The caste system not only exists in places like India, but also in the Philippines. For instance, where I work in Mindanao there seems to be a tribal caste system within the 14 Muslim tribes. The Tausug, Maranao and Maguindanao are at the top of the heap, the Yakan and others sit in the middle somewhere and the Sama are at the bottom of the heap. In language the Tausug would never learn Yakan or Sama because that is generally beneath them to do so. The Yakan would learn Tausug but not Sama and the Sama would learn Yakan and Tausug. And as with caste systems one is stuck within it. If you’re Tausug you are more likely to succeed but if you’re a Sama you are stuck in poverty. I haven’t been able to research this much yet, but it does intrigue me that poverty can often be related to culture rather than just the perception of bad luck, bad mistakes, bad government or a bad economy.

Quiapo Capers

Quiapo is a well known place of Manila located inside the old city. It is congested and full of life. Not just human life but some life that shouldn't be alive like rats and bugs (at least in my opinion anyway). Quiapo is well known for all the wrong reasons though. It may be full of history, have horse and buggy (known locally as a calesa), China town, the Church of the Black Nazarene and the largest Mosque in Manila, but all that is forgotten in light of the corruption that is rife within it. And not necessarily of the officials which seems so prevalent in this country, but of the horse and buggy drivers. It’s probably the greatest tourist attractions in the area, but is also the greatest scam. Let me share a story I heard from some friends of mine who were visiting from Australia not too long ago. He’s a photographer so he wanted to get out and see some sights in the old city. He and his wife hopped in one of the horse and buggies started to trot around town. The guy was nice and gave them the history of the area, but then volunteered to take them to some other areas. They accepted his offer for an extra 50 pesos but that’s when the story turned bad. They were lead down winding alley ways and got totally lost. Then the guys demanded 50 dollars instead of 50 pesos! In the end they managed to get back out to the main road and then got out of the carriage. The girl then ran off with the camera gear and the guy was there by himself trying to deal with the two demanding drivers. They insisted that he had to pay 50 dollars instead of 50 pesos or they would beat him up. So like any good Aussie he squared up to them ready for a fight. In the end he got out of it with his life by saying he only had 100 pesos, which was true, for one wallet. The other wallet had everything else in it. The moral of the story is carry two wallets (one with money and one with very little and never catch a ride with the horse and buggies, no matter how cool it looks or how good the deal seems to be. I tell you this story so you don’t make the same mistake and because it’s an area I go to quite often because they have heaps of fishing farming gear for sale there.

The Endless Cycle of Poverty (Part 2)

Poverty… What exactly is it? I can read a dictionary definition about the “poverty line” or “standard of living”, but what does that mean when you live in a country where the majority of people live below this standard? What does it mean when most of the people can’t get employed without a university degree but can’t afford that sort of education? What does it mean when you feel so trapped in the cycle of poverty that you just give up and beg from strangers in the street because it’s all the hope you can muster? What does it all mean? After living here for almost a year I’m not entirely sure. But I do see some hope. For one, the Filipino people are very creative. They seem to find a way to pass time and earn money in the most amazing ways. They don’t just sit in a heap with an outstretched arm. Children, hop on jeepneys to wipe the dust off people’s feet, men stand out in the street directing traffic and helping people to find parking, ladies sell tattered pieces of material sewn into rags and dish cloths, fisherman walk the street selling fish on the end of poles, other sea folk paddle their boats up to the side of ferries to ply their trade of shells, carvings and pearls, actors sing and dance in the street and others knock on doors on asking for whatever work is available even if its cleaning the garage, weeding the garden or painting a wall. There are some people willing to do anything to survive. There is hope.

Things I Miss About Australia

It’s coming up to my 1 year milestone of living in the Philippines and I’ve been thinking about Australia a lot lately. I guess many of you might wonder what I miss about Australia. Well, here’s list for you. It’s not exhaustive, just what comes to mind now:
· Tim Tams
· Cheese
· Steak
· Real milk
· My family
· Cool weather
· Feeling like I fit in
· Cadbury’s chocolate
· Being able to put a blanket over me at night
· Understanding what everyone is saying about me
· Having the assurance that the police officer won’t pull be over cos he sees my white skin
· Being able to drive down the road without worrying about being side swiped by a bus
· Retreating to the bush for some R&R whenever I feel like it
· Seeing my nieces and nephews grow up
· Did I mention the cool weather?
. Oh, and I miss my friends (Don't worry Rache, I didn't forget you guys)

Language Milestones

I did it. I passed my 6 month language evaluation. My boss is happy and so am I! As I look back over that 6 month period I realize just how beneficial it is to learn the language of the people that you work with. Business is best done in their heart language because that is when they feel more comfortable. I certainly don’t, but if they do then that’s all that matters. I don’t know a lot but I know enough to get around. I’m now officially at a basic conversational level. To give you an idea of what this means, I was able to hold a simple conversation with a taxi driver the other day for about 20 minutes before it became a little too much for my brain to cope with. But then I realized how little I really knew when I went to visit our projects in Mindanao. I was on the back of Jeepney trying to have my usual simple conversation, but this time it proved harder than normal. I quickly realized that we found it hard to communicate because even though it was supposed to be the same language, I was talking “Manila-ish” and he was speaking “Zamboanga-ish”. Same words but different accents. The reason why is that many of the people in Zamboanga either speak Chavacano or Tausug as their first language. Tausug for instance only has 3 vowel sounds whereas Tagalog has 5. Make sense now… Try understanding a guy condensing a language with 5 vowel sounds into 3 or understanding a guy who speaks in (at least) 5 vowel sounds when you’re used to hearing only 3. I’m on my way to learning Tagalog, but I’ve got a long way to go!

The Best Airport in the World

On my way back from Indonesia I stopped off at Singapore’s Changi Airport. Man, that place is awesome! I haven’t traveled very far in the world yet, but this place has to be the best airport. They have free movies, tours of the city, a gym, free internet, cafes, restaurants, televisions, duty free shopping, a roof top garden and so much more. It was unbelievable. I only spent a couple of hours there, but for the first time in my life I actually wanted to have a longer stop over. Next time I go through there, I’m going to see if I can make it a longer stop over so I can check it out a bit more, maybe even squeeze in a city tour. Those guys know how to do business, they won me over.

World Cup Fever

World Cup fever was everywhere in Indonesia. Maybe it was everywhere else as well, but I certainly noticed it in Bali. It was cool that Australia made it through to the second round too. We should have gone further if it wasn’t for lousy umpiring too… Grrrr… Okay, enough venting. The hype was incredible in Bali. Every single hotel and bar had late night soccer being watched. I wasn’t feeling too great so I didn’t get a lot of the games, but I heard all the stories the next day and watched the highlights. I’m not much of a soccer fan but I got hooked and even bought a couple of soccer tops at the markets in Bali. I got a Harry Kewell one and then when Australia got kicked out I decided to follow France. I’m not entirely sure why, it was just a random pick. Then when they made it to the final I was really happy with my choice. I had even bought a France top with the players name Zidane on the back. Boy, did I regret my choice after the final. France not only lost, Zidane decided to head butt a guy and get a red card. Oh well, you win some, you lose some.

Lovely Lombok

Lombok on the other hand was kind of refreshing. Imagine laying in bed happily snoozing and then tick, tick, tick… the clock strikes 4.45am and the call to pray rings out across town waking all but the deaf. Despite being woken up at what felt like an ungodly hour at the time, I felt refreshed after the dinginess of Bali. I managed to get back to sleep after the Call to Prayer finished about 5.30am and get enough sleep to give me energy for the rest of the day. I visited a coffee shop and art gallery start up business and gave some advice to those running it then toured the island including an amazing “batik” art gallery, secluded beach, mountainous region and missed the beach sunset by about 10 seconds. The place was remote enough to feel unexploited, yet populated and developed enough to feel cosy. Unlike Bali, Lombok is a place I would go back to.

Bali Musings

Bali is an interesting place. I got the impression from some people back home that they worried about my safety more going to Bali than to a place like Basilan. I guess Bali has received a lot of bad press lately with the bombings and the Shapelle Corby case. I felt relatively safe there and was even able to comfortably slip into my Aussie accent easily cos the locals understood it better than my fake American/Filipino accent. However, despite its laid back feel and friendly exterior I felt uncomfortable there. I’m not sure I can put my finger on what it was exactly, but I think it had something to do with how sleazy and exploitive it seemed to be. Guys trying to rip you off with money changing, Honest Two Bob’s Watches (yeah right) and sleazy girls lining the streets trying to lure you inside bars. It just didn’t appeal to me. It had a very thin veneer of tourism and development but underneath I felt a real sense of discontent, dependency and even deceit. Don’t get me wrong, I had a good time there, but there was something just not quite right about the place. I don’t think I’ll be in a hurry to go back there.

The Endless Cycle of Poverty (Part 1)

Something that I’ve been intending on blogging about since I arrived in the Philippines in the endless cycle of poverty I see in this place. It’s going to be something that will take me a while to process so I thought I’d just introduce it now. What amazes me is that in a place that promises so much there is so little. On the surface you see huge malls, fancy cars and nice clothes, but hidden away are the squatter villages, littered streets, poor beggars and people’s sense of helplessness and hopelessness. How did it happen? What can we do? What should I do? What is real story behind that person’s pitiful state? Is it really pitiful? Can we put an end to it all? Should we try to put an end to it all? If so, how? Questions, questions and more questions…

Pahiyas Festival

The Pahiyas Festival in Lucban, Quezon Province is without a doubt the most beautiful fiesta I have been to in the Philippines. I went there with my fellow Tagalog students and a couple of our teachers. It was a lovely drive through the mountains despite the early morning start. After a few unexpected detours (No we weren’t lost, just geographically embarrassed), we arrived in Lucban. Finding parking was crazy. We had to drive down tiny little alleys lined with cars and people until we could eventually find somewhere to park on the outskirts of town. Then we walked into the middle of town where people had decorated their houses with food, flowers and anything else you could possible imagine. It was an amazing site, truly spectacular! The people were so imaginative. They have this competition every year where you can text the number of your favourite house to a service provider who tallies the votes and at the end of the day a winner is announced. A really cool idea. They’ve also got a special dish called “hab-hab” which is noodles in a banana leaf you eat with your mouth. Oops, that must sound funny. You don’t use cutlery or your hands, you just open your mouth and eat it straight off the banana leaf. Man was it tasty and cheap. I think it was 10 pesos (about 25 cents) per serve. I think I had 3 servings! Yummm… The other thing about this place that struck me was that it was old. There was church that was built in 1595. It’s the oldest building I have ever seen! But my favourite part of the whole day was a guy in body paint who danced to the beat of funky music all day. I just had to get a photo with him. It was so funny. Every time language or life got me down for the next couple of weeks I just thought of the dancing dude and a broad smile crept across my face. It’s happening right now.

The Pogi Man Strikes Again

I did it again. The Pogi Man came out to draw attention to himself again. I should have know better. I should have learnt my lesson from the wedding. If I wear a barong something will happen. But I didn’t learn my lesson. I accepted the invitation to join the Santacruzan parade in Lapaz, Tarlac. My land lady asked me to do her a favour and be an “escort” at the Santacruzan parade she was hosting in her home town of Lapaz, Tarlac. I told her that I didn’t want the attention, but that I would help her out. So with my barong and black pants packed I set off for the province with the rest of the family. It was a good opportunity to practice my Tagalog and see another area of the country as well as experience some more Filipino culture. But little did I realize that I would be the star of the show. When I arrived I found out that I was to be “Constantino”. The history of the Santacruzan is a bit sketchy in my mind now, but it revolves around two characters Reyna Elena and her son Constantino. Despite the historical significance and meaning, it is now a beauty parade for most of the young people of the town. The most beautiful young girl and most handsome young guy play the role of Reyna Elena and Constantino. There are many other female characters involves as well like Miss May and Miss Mystica. I thought I was just going to be accompanying one of the girls as we walk through the streets of the town, but I ended up being the main man. And to top it off I ended up being twice the age of a girl who was supposed to be my mother if we follow the history. Oh well, it was special to them so I just played along. I walked through the town (at least a couple of kms), smiling and waving at the crowds that lined the streets. It was an embarrassing experience, but one that taught me a lot about Pilipino culture.

A Filipino Wedding

Before you ask, “No it’s not my wedding”. It was the wedding of my Filipino sister. Remember the family I told you I lived with for a month when I first got to the Philippines. Yeah, that one. Well, my little sister got married. That means that even though I’m the oldest in my Filipino family (the opposite in actual fact, “Ako ang bunso”). I’m now the only one who’s not married (“Binata pa”). Anyway, it was a great weekend. We had a big celebration the night before. All the family and friends came to visit us, the ate (a little too much), drank (a bit too much) and sang (far too much). It took me a long time to get going on the wedding day cos I wasn’t feeling too well but I eventually got there. I drove to the neighbouring city of Lipa where the bridal party had gathered earlier in the day to beautify themselves. It was really cool to have the whole family together before the wedding. Then we all piled into cars and headed for the church. I found out that I was supposed to walk the Mayor of Tanauan’s wife down the aisle as a sponsor last minute, but I’m sort of getting use to that. Oh, wait a minute, I think I need to back up a bit. I need to explain a little bit about Filipino weddings. In a Filipino wedding there’s the couple, bridesmaids, groomsmen and parents (just like us), but then you also need to add primary and secondary sponsors. The secondary sponsors are usually friends who are close but not close enough to be bridesmaids or groomsman (I could be wrong in that explanation but it’s how it appeared to me). The primary sponsors are usually older married people who might help financially but who mainly offer practical advice and provide marital support to the couple. All these people walk down the aisle! In this case it was the couple, 2 sets of parents, 3 bridesmaids and groomsman, 10 sets secondary sponsors and 10 sets of primary sponsors, oh and I almost forgot that the 10 sets of cute little kids. That makes at least 72 people plus the priest who walked down the aisle. Man, talk about suspense. Okay, where was I? That’s right, I was supposed to walk the Mayor’s wife down the aisle cos she was a primary sponsor without a partner to walk down the aisle. Thankfully she was running late so I didn’t walk down the aisle with her, I just got to walk down the aisle with someone else I didn’t know. The service was all in Tagalog so I didn’t understand a lot of it, especially the Catholic traditions. It was a learning experience. I sat in the corner, took some photos and monitored my video recorder while trying to follow what was going on. Once the service was over the photos took place. Man, there were a lot of photos! Of there were, there were lots of people. Then it was off to the reception. When I got there I settled into my place, talked to a few people, but tried to lay as low as a white man can at a large Filipino wedding. That’s when it happened. One of the bridesmaids dragged me out of my chair to “help her dance”. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Here I am standing in front of about 200 people having to dance a dance I don’t know with a girl I’ve never met. Was I nervous or what! It didn’t end up being that hard, but I still couldn’t believe it happened to me. The things that happen to you when you don’t have a partner and wear a Barong! The strangest thing that happened that night though, was that straight after the meal and speeches, 70% of the people just up and left. I couldn’t believe it. It was all over within a couple of hours. It was totally bizarre for me, given the fact that us Aussies normally party til late in the night and sometimes wee hours of the morning. It did, however, give me the opportunity to drive back to Tanauan and then on to Manila so I could attend my language class the next day though.

Chasing Time

It’s been a while since I last blogged. Time just sort of ran away from me and since I’m so unfit it took me a while to catch up and do the things that I’ve meant to do but not gotten around to. But my fitness has improved a bit I’m now sitting here blogging. Well, at least the second part is true. I am blogging, but my waist line continues to need some serious attention. Just another thing I’ve got to get round to. Let me see, where do I start again? I know, a wedding…

Holy Week

Easter in the Philippines is one of the most culturally interesting times you will ever experience.

One of the defining elements is “panata” which means to take a vow or make a promise. Take for instance the “pabasa”, my land lady made a “panata” to do “pabasa” at her house every year. But there are plenty of other “panatas” that people make. The most famous of all are “penitensya” and “crucifixion”. Take for instance the story I saw of a guy who made a “panata” because God saved his wife and child during a complicated delivery. He made a promise to put small incisions in his back then whip it with pieces of bamboo whilst walking 15 kms and then crucify himself with real nails in his hands the following day for as long as he could every year for 15 years. Some people may question the sanity of such people or just view it as a spectacle, but after watching the video I was struck by the guy’s willingness to follow through with such a difficult promise.

In addition to this people buy, sell and wave palm branches everywhere on Palm Sunday. It’s quite a business here. And on Thursday and Friday literally everything stops in Manila, even the malls. It’s the best time of year to drive around the city because no one is on the roads! I didn’t get to see it but apparently in the province of Marinduque people dress up in masks and act out a traditional Filipino Catholic story of trying to find a Roman soldier trying to hide from the authorities.

Yep, Easter in the Philippines is certainly interesting.

Pabasa

One night just before Easter I arrived home to my new house to find that it had been invaded by relatives of the Filipino family I live with. Every year my Ate Beth has a “pabasa” which is a “reading” of “the passion” at her house. The Pasyon is biblical and traditional stories about the last week of Jesus before his crucifixion in Tagalog. It sounds pretty tame doesn’t it. Well, I can assure you it is not. They sing, chant and read The Pasyon for almost 24 hours straight using a microphone set at the highest volume possible. Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep that night!

Haircut hilarities

One of the exciting things about living in a foreign country is the new and exciting surprises and challenges that you face every day which you would not think twice about back home. Like getting your haircut for example. When I first got here I went and got my head shaved because I just couldn’t be bothered getting it cut often and the fact that it is incredibly hot here all year round. That was all well and good until I realized that a skinhead means that sweat runs instead of drips off you. So after my hair had grown to an unmanageable length I decided to get a decent haircut. I went to a nice hairdresser that costs about $5AUD which is kind of expensive here. But I figured that I would get what I paid for. I was wrong! I got a new hairdresser that could hardly speak English. Add to that the fact that I had no Tagalog terminology for how to cut my hair. So after 30 minutes of trying to get it right I just gave up and walked out of the shop with a very strange looking haircut indeed. Next time I figured that it couldn’t be as bad as the last time so I just went to a corner shop the night before leaving for Bangkok. This time the haircut was okay and only cost me $1.50AUD, but what happened while I was waiting was truly hilarious. An older Korean businessman was in getting his haircut. But the problem was that he didn’t know any English or Tagalog (or wouldn’t speak it, I’m not too sure) and the people in the shop couldn’t understand what he wanted or how to communicate with him. He wanted a “sports cut” which is supposed to be a little different than a “flat top”. I still don’t know what the difference is though. They both looked the same to me by the time it was all sorted out. But watching the people was so funny, particularly when it got animated. I couldn’t help but laugh. And then when I started laughing everyone else in the shop except for the poor Korean guy did. Eventually it was all sorted out when his companion was found outside somewhere, but I must say that I felt much better about getting my haircut in the Philippines after that.

Reverse Culture Shock

Bangkok, the Melbourne of South East Asia. At least that what is seemed like after my third visit there. The place is bursting with cultural and artistic expression. Hedges cut out in the shapes of animals on the median strips of major roads, strange looking buildings and people from all over the world sitting in cafes and shopping in markets are just a few of the things that reminded me of being back home in Melbourne. Oh yeah, they even have pretty pink taxis, not even Melbourne has that! But what surprised me most was the reverse culture shock of being in a different place to the Philippines. I stepped of the plane and into a taxi and Tagalog just slipped out as I started talking to the driver. My brain told me I was still in Asia and mouth interpreted that as the go ahead for speaking Tagalog. When I arrived at the hotel and settled in I went to market and the same thing happened. I wanted to barter in Tagalog. Thankfully I had managed to decipher the code which had caused the miscommunication and misinterpretation between my brain and mouth by this time so I just thought Tagalog instead of speaking it. But then I faced another problem, they drove on the right, sorry left hand side of the road (which happens to be the right or correct side anyway). I stepped out onto the road to cross and found myself looking in the wrong direction for oncoming traffic. Thankfully the traffic wasn’t so bad and the thought of being road kill quickly snapped my brain back into looking the right way. And this happened after only 6 months in the Philippines. Imagine the shock I’ll experience after 4 years!

Beautiful Basilan

It seems like a shocking thing to say, but I can honestly state that Basilan has to be the most beautiful place I have stayed in Philippines thus far. When I finally manage to convince myself that terrorists aren’t lurking behind the bushes or hiding in the cupboard I can enjoy the scenery and lovely people. The truth is that it’s an untouched paradise. Beautiful coconut trees line the shore line, children play in the streets, small wet and dry market stalls line the main road and majestic mountains provide a stunning backdrop for rice fields. Combine that with the cultural experience of falling asleep and waking to the sound of a call to prayer and the quiet solitude in between, I’d say it’s got to be one of my favourite places to visit. I’m not sure that I would recommend everyone plan their next holiday there, but I do know that I enjoy going there to check out the progress of our fish pond project.

Too busy to blog

It’s been a while since I last blogged. Sorry to all my faithful readers. I can honestly say that I’ve been too busy to blog. And although my hectic travel and work schedule has given me plenty to think and write about, for some strange reason my mind is drawing a blank at the moment. Maybe that’s a part of growing old. I am 30 after all. Hmmm… I don’t think I should dwell on that too long… I know what I can write! Check out these next two blogs about two very different places I visited in the past few weeks.

Uno

I’m now famous for another reason. The other day I introduced the game “uno” to some of the young people at BFAR so I could practice my colours and numbers in Tagalog. It was an instant hit. I couldn’t get my cards back until they finally ran out of steam at 1am in the morning. Thankfully the following day was my day off so I got to sleep. But those poor students from Marinduque had to work the next day.

Bang! BANG! B-A-N-G!!!

Let’s face it, fireworks bring out the inner child in all of. They arouse feelings of excitement, awe and even a healthy fear. Well that was my experience this year anyway as I got to LEGALLY experience first hand the use of firework in my own front yard. I have to say that I felt like a little child wandering through the market on December 31^st looking at all the fireworks available to buy. I spent just under AUD20 and got so many fireworks that we could use them all up between 11pm and 1am later that night. One’s that go bang, fly into the sky, shoot coloured flares, spin like helicopters and some that go bang even louder. I now know why is illegal in Australia. Despite the awesome fun I had, there were also a few close calls with one’s that had short fuses or flew in the wrong direction. Next year might be a different experience again. Apparently they start using live ammunition when they run out of fireworks in Zamboanga. Hey, did you Australia won the pyro-Olympics here in the Manila just before the New Year?! C’mon Aussie!