We are learning fast and hard, and it's all good stuff. This is getting easier by the day, and for that I am extremely grateful. After all the extra prayers to the Buddha and the Master to please help me remember all that I have learned, I think they might have decided to help me out.
Thai massage isn't a magic bullet; it doesn't work for everyone or for every kind of muscular problem. Learning what will work and what won't is half the battle. Understanding what you are doing is the other half. The first course we took, the Professional Level I course, frustrated most of us because it was so rigid; we had to sit a certain way, do the massage a certain way, etc. Level II is very different as there is scope for using different techniques to treat a given condition, and what I am finding the case to be is that each new technique I learn is just another tool in the toolbox to be used whenever I see fit. I am excited to be bringing this modality back to my clients in the UK!
The Thai yoga RueSi DatTon is amazing, and I am steadily improving my skill level. I am trying to perfect my RueSi DatTon postures while I have the guidance, because I will be using it when I get home. I believe that doing the yoga every morning is keeping me from completely seizing up, since I'm not working out in a gym or doing the hours of cardio that I do back home. My physical work load has changed dramatically, but I am still tired at the end of each day. My superhuman strength is fading, but slower than it would be if I wasn't getting any exercise. I can last twenty four more days but will definitely have to spend some quality time with some free weights when I get home! Gyms in Bangkok are expensive, and right now I really need to be focusing on what I am here to do anyway.
There is talk of a Level III course, but Wat Po is waiting to get a few more Level II candidates through the doors first. I will of course take Level III when it becomes available. I have also started making inquiries into learning the rest of the RueSi DatTon postures so it looks like at least one more trip to Thailand is in my future at any rate.
I have taken to wearing ear plugs in the evening - my room faces the street and the noise is incredible. The tuktuks, buses, shouting people, live bands whose members shouldn't ever give up their day jobs...it's all here and it's all happening on the other side of my paper thin guesthouse room walls. I've not slept well since I got to Thailand, but really have been struggling with it since coming to Bangkok. Earplugs are bliss! What a fantastic invention! I took one out a moment ago, to test the difference, and was nearly deafened by the din.
My wardrobe is continuing to malfunction at an alarming rate. I have had to throw a bra and a pair of 3/4 trousers away just today. I gave away my largest clothes to a friend because there's simply no point in me owning or wearing them. A pair of my shorts didn't return from the laundry service. Replacing clothing isn't really in my budget, so I am trying to cling to what I have. We are planning a little shopping trip this Sunday so maybe I will find another pair of shorts or trousers for super cheap. The clothes you can buy in the markets here are inexpensive, but they aren't worth keeping for very long as the fabrics used are of a pretty low quality and have a short lifespan. Good quality clothing costs the same here as it does in the UK.
I'm finished with the rabies vaccinations, the last, deepest dog bite is almost healed up, I'm not getting bitten by every insect in the district, I've found some really good, cheap places to eat and even have a favorite monk. Thailand has entered the cool, dry season so it's actually quite pleasant out. The temp is still up in the mid- to hi-20's but it's not so humid. Our morning walk to school is fast becoming the best part of the day. Things are looking up!
Friday 25 November 2011
Thursday 24 November 2011
Thailand: A Smoker's Haven
Six years ago I decided to quit smoking. I did this because I couldn't control the urge to smoke, even though I despised it. Every cigarette I lit pissed me off more than the previous one, until I finally had enough. Such is life, and I know other people that have quit, with varying degrees of success. It's a deeply personal thing, and the decision to smoke or not has to be left up to the individual.
England has made it a policy to disallow smoking inside of public places. This happened after I quit, so I was never inconvenienced by having to go outside to smoke. When I quit smoking I also quit going out, because I couldn't bear breathing the secondhand smoke of others. My husband joined me in the nonsmoking decision, and felt the same way about going out. This carried on until the nonsmoking law was passed. Blah blah blah.
Enough of that.
Here in Thailand smoking is allowed everywhere, and cigarettes are cheap. I mean seriously cheap. All the displaced smokers in the UK have ended up here, I swear. Cigs in the UK are something like £7 a pack. Here in Bangkok I think the cost is approximately the equivalent of £2.50 or so. Not only can you smoke everywhere but you can befoul the atmosphere all around you whilst staying on your travel budget! WIN!
I have just spent the last two hours in a restaurant/bar called Mulligan's on Khaosan Road. I did this because I treated someone to dinner, as a way of showing appreciation for a great big favor he did for me. My throat is raw, I can't get enough clean air in my lungs, and even though I took a shower I can still smell and taste cigarette smoke, and it is rank. Gah. I am so over cigarettes, and Mulligan's by association.
I know I'm being precious about the whole smoking thing, and smokers find ex-smokers' tirades tiresome, so all I will say is this: it's poison, and you will die from it. Keep smoking, there's seven billion people on this planet.
England has made it a policy to disallow smoking inside of public places. This happened after I quit, so I was never inconvenienced by having to go outside to smoke. When I quit smoking I also quit going out, because I couldn't bear breathing the secondhand smoke of others. My husband joined me in the nonsmoking decision, and felt the same way about going out. This carried on until the nonsmoking law was passed. Blah blah blah.
Enough of that.
Here in Thailand smoking is allowed everywhere, and cigarettes are cheap. I mean seriously cheap. All the displaced smokers in the UK have ended up here, I swear. Cigs in the UK are something like £7 a pack. Here in Bangkok I think the cost is approximately the equivalent of £2.50 or so. Not only can you smoke everywhere but you can befoul the atmosphere all around you whilst staying on your travel budget! WIN!
I have just spent the last two hours in a restaurant/bar called Mulligan's on Khaosan Road. I did this because I treated someone to dinner, as a way of showing appreciation for a great big favor he did for me. My throat is raw, I can't get enough clean air in my lungs, and even though I took a shower I can still smell and taste cigarette smoke, and it is rank. Gah. I am so over cigarettes, and Mulligan's by association.
I know I'm being precious about the whole smoking thing, and smokers find ex-smokers' tirades tiresome, so all I will say is this: it's poison, and you will die from it. Keep smoking, there's seven billion people on this planet.
Sunday 20 November 2011
Tuktuk Drivers Need to Love Too
Sigh. If English is your first language and you don't speak Thai, don't get into a tuktuk unless you fancy paying a little extra for your journey, or visiting shops you never heard of and don't particularly want to go to. This is all I can say about tuktuks in Bangkok. No, we didn't actually get taken to the "Thai government sponsored clothing sale" at James Fashions. We wanted to go to Pratunum Market, and when we tried to talk the driver into avoiding the HUGE SALE at James Fashions (he showed us a well-worn brochure for this fine establishment, with pictures of men's suits adorning every page) he went into some sort of meltdown and had to pull over to look at his map. I don't think he even knew where Pratunum Market was. When he stopped we got out, and while we fumbled for some coins to give him he drove off to find another pigeon. Sigh again.
Petchaburi Road, as seen from the Pratunum pedestrian crossing:
We hailed a taxi and another tuktuk driver pulled up, and offered to take us to the market for 100 baht. I almost fell over at this point, but politely told him no, that was twice what a taxi would charge. When the taxi that was pulling up for us stopped, we said good bye to Tuktuk Man and buzzed off to Pratunum Market in air conditioned comfort, for 60 baht - 49 baht plus 11 baht tip. I assure you I was well-behaved and nice at all times. Both Carla and I have ended our careers as tuktuk passengers, forever, I think.
A tuktuk as from above, complete with farang shearer:
After the market we found a taxi and asked him to take us back to Phra Sumen Road, where there was a shop I wanted to return to in order to buy some pillows for my treatment rooms. I even showed him the location on the map (damn those tourists and their laminated street maps). He pulled out into the traffic, and when I asked him to turn the meter on he said it was broken. I asked him to stop the car, and as if by magic his meter started working when he pushed a few buttons. Unrepentant, he then tried to pad the route a little, at which time we did force him to stop and we paid the 51 baht on the meter. Had he just gone the correct way; the shortest, fastest way, he would have received a nice tip as well as the fare. Sheer bloodymindedness ruled, I wasn't going to sit in that taxi for another second. I'm certain that the extra charge wouldn't have broken the bank, but it has become the principle of the thing.
I am starting to learn my way around Bangkok a little, and can plainly see how easy it would be to fleece people from forn parts. Everything looks the same same but different, as they like to say in Thailand. It's not until you start clocking the different wats and other landmarks that you can actually tell when you're getting the extra special treatment. I wish I could say that I'm exaggerating, but I'm not, and I know Bangkok isn't the only place in the world that it goes on - it happens in New York, Alicante, Medford, Oregon, and London as well. It is extremely important to tell you that not all taxi drivers are like this! I have had many taxi rides in Thailand that were strictly from A to B, with no faffing.
My friend, the Groovy Map of Bangkok http://www.groovymap.com/main.php, has empowered me. I know that if I stick to the map eventually I will work out where I need to be. I might have to walk around some, but I'll bloody well get there in the end, random dog bites and all.
Maybe I'm just enduring a low transportation moment.
Petchaburi Road, as seen from the Pratunum pedestrian crossing:
We hailed a taxi and another tuktuk driver pulled up, and offered to take us to the market for 100 baht. I almost fell over at this point, but politely told him no, that was twice what a taxi would charge. When the taxi that was pulling up for us stopped, we said good bye to Tuktuk Man and buzzed off to Pratunum Market in air conditioned comfort, for 60 baht - 49 baht plus 11 baht tip. I assure you I was well-behaved and nice at all times. Both Carla and I have ended our careers as tuktuk passengers, forever, I think.
A tuktuk as from above, complete with farang shearer:
After the market we found a taxi and asked him to take us back to Phra Sumen Road, where there was a shop I wanted to return to in order to buy some pillows for my treatment rooms. I even showed him the location on the map (damn those tourists and their laminated street maps). He pulled out into the traffic, and when I asked him to turn the meter on he said it was broken. I asked him to stop the car, and as if by magic his meter started working when he pushed a few buttons. Unrepentant, he then tried to pad the route a little, at which time we did force him to stop and we paid the 51 baht on the meter. Had he just gone the correct way; the shortest, fastest way, he would have received a nice tip as well as the fare. Sheer bloodymindedness ruled, I wasn't going to sit in that taxi for another second. I'm certain that the extra charge wouldn't have broken the bank, but it has become the principle of the thing.
I am starting to learn my way around Bangkok a little, and can plainly see how easy it would be to fleece people from forn parts. Everything looks the same same but different, as they like to say in Thailand. It's not until you start clocking the different wats and other landmarks that you can actually tell when you're getting the extra special treatment. I wish I could say that I'm exaggerating, but I'm not, and I know Bangkok isn't the only place in the world that it goes on - it happens in New York, Alicante, Medford, Oregon, and London as well. It is extremely important to tell you that not all taxi drivers are like this! I have had many taxi rides in Thailand that were strictly from A to B, with no faffing.
My friend, the Groovy Map of Bangkok http://www.groovymap.com/main.php, has empowered me. I know that if I stick to the map eventually I will work out where I need to be. I might have to walk around some, but I'll bloody well get there in the end, random dog bites and all.
Maybe I'm just enduring a low transportation moment.
Thursday 17 November 2011
Professional Thai Massage Level 2 - Day 5
After a few days review, we are now beginning to learn new techniques. Because the class size is so small we are getting plenty of teacher time, which is a very good thing! The teachers know I want to perfect my skills and correct me on every error, no matter how small. Fortunately I'm in the learning zone and am able to pick up the most basic tasks after being told seven or eight times and getting smacked after the 8th time.
The trick is to know the basic steps of the relaxing massage. This you learn in the first course. As well as knowing the steps to follow, you must know the sen lines associated with each step, and must understand how deep to press on them. This is the hardest skill to master.
The medical techniques we are now learning all branch off from the relaxing massage. The steps of the relaxing massage start at the legs, then go to the back, upper back, arms, neck and head. If we are treating a migraine headache we will do a portion of the steps for upper back, neck and head (roughly speaking - it's more complicated then that but to explain it would be a nightmare), after which there are special steps that must be completed, followed by the treatment points. At the end the client being treated can opt for the application of a herbal compress (this smells and feels fantastic), balm or oil. I know how to make the herbal compresses and will be including this in my practice back home, and will also be bringing home plenty of the balm and oils.
To Jenny, Miki, Arianna, Giles, Lisa, Villi, Emmy, A and Agnes - we miss you and wish you were with us!
The trick is to know the basic steps of the relaxing massage. This you learn in the first course. As well as knowing the steps to follow, you must know the sen lines associated with each step, and must understand how deep to press on them. This is the hardest skill to master.
The medical techniques we are now learning all branch off from the relaxing massage. The steps of the relaxing massage start at the legs, then go to the back, upper back, arms, neck and head. If we are treating a migraine headache we will do a portion of the steps for upper back, neck and head (roughly speaking - it's more complicated then that but to explain it would be a nightmare), after which there are special steps that must be completed, followed by the treatment points. At the end the client being treated can opt for the application of a herbal compress (this smells and feels fantastic), balm or oil. I know how to make the herbal compresses and will be including this in my practice back home, and will also be bringing home plenty of the balm and oils.
To Jenny, Miki, Arianna, Giles, Lisa, Villi, Emmy, A and Agnes - we miss you and wish you were with us!
Tuesday 15 November 2011
Back in Bangkok
After a certain amount of faffing around with taxis and one tuktuk I am settled into a very good guest house on Phra Arthit Road... http://bestbedhouse.com/
BB House is a 40 minute walk from Wat Po, my new school. The boss decided not to have the course in Chiang Mai so we have all assembled in Bangkok, and have just completed Day Two. The school in Bangkok isn't as fancy as Salaya, but I think I prefer it. Salaya is like a resort, but is isolated from everything. Here in Bangkok we can choose what we want to eat and where we want to eat it, rather than selecting items off of the same menu for lunch and dinner in the school canteen. There are options for getting around the city, rather than paying a wedge for a taxi ride that is grudgingly agreed to by the driver or waiting hopefully for any bus that will stop for us. There's a lot more to do, period.
Phra Arthit Road runs parallel to the river, and the road is dry. There are some places next to the river that still have some water, but it's not bad. We don't have to get wet when walking around. From what I understand the northern part of Bangkok is still flooded, and I know Salaya (west of BKK) is definitely under water. Don Muang Airport, which services the domestic flights, is wet but Suvarnabhumi Airport is completely dry. There is water for sale in the shops, and there is food on the shelves. It was recently reported to me that the most frightening shortage in this part of town is that of Singha Beer, in the small bottles.
The median age of the tourists has risen remarkably - there are a lot less of the young/drunk/stupid kind hanging about, which makes the older foreigners more obvious. The clubs are pretty quiet from what I've seen, and there are definitely fewer folk howling at the moon late late at night. I can only assume that parents are keeping their gap-year spawn locked up until they are sure it's safe, and I applaude this decision while nodding and smiling from ear to ear.
BB House is a 40 minute walk from Wat Po, my new school. The boss decided not to have the course in Chiang Mai so we have all assembled in Bangkok, and have just completed Day Two. The school in Bangkok isn't as fancy as Salaya, but I think I prefer it. Salaya is like a resort, but is isolated from everything. Here in Bangkok we can choose what we want to eat and where we want to eat it, rather than selecting items off of the same menu for lunch and dinner in the school canteen. There are options for getting around the city, rather than paying a wedge for a taxi ride that is grudgingly agreed to by the driver or waiting hopefully for any bus that will stop for us. There's a lot more to do, period.
Phra Arthit Road runs parallel to the river, and the road is dry. There are some places next to the river that still have some water, but it's not bad. We don't have to get wet when walking around. From what I understand the northern part of Bangkok is still flooded, and I know Salaya (west of BKK) is definitely under water. Don Muang Airport, which services the domestic flights, is wet but Suvarnabhumi Airport is completely dry. There is water for sale in the shops, and there is food on the shelves. It was recently reported to me that the most frightening shortage in this part of town is that of Singha Beer, in the small bottles.
The median age of the tourists has risen remarkably - there are a lot less of the young/drunk/stupid kind hanging about, which makes the older foreigners more obvious. The clubs are pretty quiet from what I've seen, and there are definitely fewer folk howling at the moon late late at night. I can only assume that parents are keeping their gap-year spawn locked up until they are sure it's safe, and I applaude this decision while nodding and smiling from ear to ear.
Monday 14 November 2011
Manila Airport :-(
The wi-fi doesn't work here. You can connect to the local network, but no chance of doing the www thing. I searched around for someone (anyone) that actually works for the airport that might be able to contact the IT department but no dice. The people working for the airlines can't help, though one of them did make a call on my behalf. I waited for some sort of acknowledgement for the entire length of my layover - seven hours - but no dice there either.
I had a scan through the available networks and found one for some place called the Tinder Box. When I tried to connect I got a message saying I could buy time from the reception desk. Oooookay...
While taking one of my many, many strolls back and forth across the terminal I noted a guy wearing a uniform with Tinder Box embroidered on it. I cornered him and after some careful questioning understood the Tinder Box to be the company that operates the smoking room next to Gate 1, and that cards for the wireless can be purchased at the counter - P95 per hour. Hell yes, I've got P100! I made my way to this room; actually went inside without a mask or any other protection; only to be told that they have sold out of the magic cards. Now I smell like a cigarette butt and I still ain't got no internet. Great.
I've just used up the last of my phone credit calling my classmate Lynn; urgently asking her to call people and tell them things; and there's no place to buy any more. I am so being tested to the limit of my patience here.
There is a bank of three computers in front of the Citibank office, which is shut today because it's the weekend. These computers are online and are free to use. One can't veg out on one forever; there's always a queue to use them. However, I was able to check my email and send emails to concerned individuals that were sitting safely at home, wondering if I was dead or alive. I definitely could not log onto Facebook, as the security protocol wanted me to type random words to prove I was really trying to log on as my own self but from an unexpected location. I couldn't see the random words because the three computers in front of the Citibank office are running Ubuntu and gee whiz, the script for the random words wouldn't run! Imagine that.
I visited the Comfort Room (heh) after emailing and lo, there is a machine next to the CR that SELLS PREPAID CREDIT FOR MY SIM CARD!!! This machine takes pesos or US dollars, and a P300 card costs $8, which is the exact amount of US money I happen to have on me!!! Oh, the excitement. I put in my three one-dollar bills, then offered up the five. The machine spat it out three times before I gave up and read the directions on the front of the machine, which advised me that the machine only eats one dollar bills. There was no reject button to push and reclaim my dollars, either. I had a mental Cartman moment, where I stood there and silently said "fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckitty fuck fuck", then started looking around for inspiration. Just then, an American guy sauntered down the aisle past me (I could tell he was American by his distinctive sauntering style) and he kindly stopped when I called out to him. After some pocket delving he was able to change my five into 5 ones. OOO RAH!
Moments later, with my phone refueled, I communicated with the outside world. It was good.
You see, once you go through security and get into the terminal gate area, there's no going back. Outside this heavily fortified area are shops, restaurants and other interesting things. Hell, there might even be a working wi-fi network. However, once you go through security, pay your port usage fee, do the immigration thing and go through one more round of security you are theirs until you can claw your way onto an outgoing plane. Of course, you want to get through security and get immigration sorted as soon as you can because discovering there is a problem at immigration three minutes before you hear the final boarding call for your flight isn't the way to do things, but it's not until you get past the last security checkpoint that you realise that you've been thrust into purgatory with no hope of redemption.
Someone told me that Manila International Airport is like the 7th most hated airport in the world. I can't imagine why that might be, for the life of me :-P
I had a scan through the available networks and found one for some place called the Tinder Box. When I tried to connect I got a message saying I could buy time from the reception desk. Oooookay...
While taking one of my many, many strolls back and forth across the terminal I noted a guy wearing a uniform with Tinder Box embroidered on it. I cornered him and after some careful questioning understood the Tinder Box to be the company that operates the smoking room next to Gate 1, and that cards for the wireless can be purchased at the counter - P95 per hour. Hell yes, I've got P100! I made my way to this room; actually went inside without a mask or any other protection; only to be told that they have sold out of the magic cards. Now I smell like a cigarette butt and I still ain't got no internet. Great.
I've just used up the last of my phone credit calling my classmate Lynn; urgently asking her to call people and tell them things; and there's no place to buy any more. I am so being tested to the limit of my patience here.
There is a bank of three computers in front of the Citibank office, which is shut today because it's the weekend. These computers are online and are free to use. One can't veg out on one forever; there's always a queue to use them. However, I was able to check my email and send emails to concerned individuals that were sitting safely at home, wondering if I was dead or alive. I definitely could not log onto Facebook, as the security protocol wanted me to type random words to prove I was really trying to log on as my own self but from an unexpected location. I couldn't see the random words because the three computers in front of the Citibank office are running Ubuntu and gee whiz, the script for the random words wouldn't run! Imagine that.
I visited the Comfort Room (heh) after emailing and lo, there is a machine next to the CR that SELLS PREPAID CREDIT FOR MY SIM CARD!!! This machine takes pesos or US dollars, and a P300 card costs $8, which is the exact amount of US money I happen to have on me!!! Oh, the excitement. I put in my three one-dollar bills, then offered up the five. The machine spat it out three times before I gave up and read the directions on the front of the machine, which advised me that the machine only eats one dollar bills. There was no reject button to push and reclaim my dollars, either. I had a mental Cartman moment, where I stood there and silently said "fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckitty fuck fuck", then started looking around for inspiration. Just then, an American guy sauntered down the aisle past me (I could tell he was American by his distinctive sauntering style) and he kindly stopped when I called out to him. After some pocket delving he was able to change my five into 5 ones. OOO RAH!
Moments later, with my phone refueled, I communicated with the outside world. It was good.
You see, once you go through security and get into the terminal gate area, there's no going back. Outside this heavily fortified area are shops, restaurants and other interesting things. Hell, there might even be a working wi-fi network. However, once you go through security, pay your port usage fee, do the immigration thing and go through one more round of security you are theirs until you can claw your way onto an outgoing plane. Of course, you want to get through security and get immigration sorted as soon as you can because discovering there is a problem at immigration three minutes before you hear the final boarding call for your flight isn't the way to do things, but it's not until you get past the last security checkpoint that you realise that you've been thrust into purgatory with no hope of redemption.
Someone told me that Manila International Airport is like the 7th most hated airport in the world. I can't imagine why that might be, for the life of me :-P
Canned Goods in Carry-On Luggage...
...is a no-no in Philippine airports. I have 6 tins of tuna in veggie oil, just in case there isn't any in Bangkok. I know for certain there isn't any in Salaya.
The security guard at Mactan-Cebu International Airport said I can't have them in my carry-on. After I explained where I was going and why I actually had tuna on my person he marched over to one of the nearby shops and returned with a small box. He produced a roll of packaging tape from a stash on top of one of the x-ray machines. I packed the box and he taped it shut, even going so far as to make a tape handle for me to carry it later, then escorted me to the first class check-in desk for Philippine Airlines and got them to check the box in for me. How sweet was all that???
In return for all this work I answered his many questions about why I was in Cebu to begin with, what I did while I was in Bogo, were my parents in good health and happy that I'd come for a visit, why I was going to Thailand, and so on. He wasn't asking because of my suspicious, terrorist-like behaviour, but because he's Filipino and couldn't help himself. Filipinos are dead curious about other people and like asking lots of questions. They are so satisfied by getting good answers and really like getting to the bottom of things. I love this about them, and I understand it, because I'm the same way.
The security guard at Mactan-Cebu International Airport said I can't have them in my carry-on. After I explained where I was going and why I actually had tuna on my person he marched over to one of the nearby shops and returned with a small box. He produced a roll of packaging tape from a stash on top of one of the x-ray machines. I packed the box and he taped it shut, even going so far as to make a tape handle for me to carry it later, then escorted me to the first class check-in desk for Philippine Airlines and got them to check the box in for me. How sweet was all that???
In return for all this work I answered his many questions about why I was in Cebu to begin with, what I did while I was in Bogo, were my parents in good health and happy that I'd come for a visit, why I was going to Thailand, and so on. He wasn't asking because of my suspicious, terrorist-like behaviour, but because he's Filipino and couldn't help himself. Filipinos are dead curious about other people and like asking lots of questions. They are so satisfied by getting good answers and really like getting to the bottom of things. I love this about them, and I understand it, because I'm the same way.
Sunday 13 November 2011
12 November, 2011 - Final Thoughts
I have spent my time on Cebu
well, I think. I met many family
members for the first time, laughed a lot, cried a lot, and loved a lot. I have such a cool family! I cut banana leaves, ate papayas straight
from the trees in my mother’s garden, dodged sea snakes, didn’t catch any
little crabs at the beach (thanks Mary Ann), and did not eat too much even
though every Filipino I’ve met here is a FEEDER.
A couple of Mom's papaya trees:
She cultivated the papaya trees by throwing a handful of seeds around the property and ignoring them until they started bearing fruit.
Cebu is loud, dirty and
full of life. My mother says the
Philippines GDP consists of dogs, children, and bread. She might be right, as it goes. There are a lot of dogs, kids and bakeries
here, and the dogs and kids are especially noisy.
Driving in the Philippines is a health and safety
nightmare. There are a number of ways to
get around; one of the more common ways is by tricycle. The tricycle consists of a small motorcycle –
usually around 150 cc four stroke, with a covered sidecar. I witnessed a fully laden tricycle consisting of the
driver, two passengers (mom and dad) sitting side-saddle behind him, 5-6
children in the sidecar, with a 3 foot mound of goods and chattels stacked on
the roof of the sidecar. (The tricycle
was smoking a little, but still moving at a decent clip.) Everyone of course was wearing flip-flops,
and for headwear safety the mother had a towel around her face to keep her from
breathing exhaust fumes. I think they may have been moving house.
I saw a tricycle hauling two complete suites of wooden lounge furniture (no passengers), and as we overtook it decided I liked the set with the green fabric the best. Later I bemusedly realised that I am desensitized to the insanity of tricycles.
Death on three wheels:
There are tons of motorcycles here. Note in the picture below, the typical riding
uniform…towel around the face, shorts, flip-flops, sunglasses, extremely questionable lid, wearing a sweater on the
arms only (for sun protection). All I can
say is wow.
My parents own a multicab.
Made by Suzuki, it boasts a 90 cc, 3 cylinder engine and can seat 10-12
Filipino people in reasonable comfort. My cousin Mary
Ann is a master multicab driver and does all of the driving for the
family. There are many multicabs about,
and they make sense. Families are
numbered in the double digits as a matter of course in the Philippines, and they all like to
go when there is travelling to be done.
My family's valiant steed:
Note the go-faster decals and rear spoiler. I have to laugh whenever I imagine my Super-Sized brother trying to fit into this vehicle.
Jeepneys are larger than multicabs, with bigger engines and
a lot more chrome. You’ll have to Google
them, I wasn’t able to get any good pics, sorry. I have to say that the jeepneys I saw buzzing around were pretty much always full, and all the passengers looked to be having a cracking good time.
There are lots of buses as well. The drivers are very aggressive and will overtake
even in the face of oncoming traffic.
They are the biggest vehicles and can also honk the loudest. They will not stop if you happen to be
walking across the road in front of them – you either run to get out of the way
or you will be squashed. The drivers of air-conditioned buses are marginally more careful, but only because they don't want to wreck them and be forced to drive a bus without air.
The road markings are treated as gentle suggestions – you
can have as many as four vehicles abreast in two lanes, and overtaking occurs
on either side of you. There is a lot of
honking. Most intersections are
uncontrolled, and getting across an intersection can involve some complicated
manoeuvring whilst honking.
I wouldn’t even begin to know how to drive here, but if I had to I think I would opt for a trials bike of some sort – maybe a 125 or a 250 cc Honda. Something zippy that wouldn’t fall apart too quick, that's small enough to fit in traffic cracks and can't seat more than 3 people ;-)
I wouldn’t even begin to know how to drive here, but if I had to I think I would opt for a trials bike of some sort – maybe a 125 or a 250 cc Honda. Something zippy that wouldn’t fall apart too quick, that's small enough to fit in traffic cracks and can't seat more than 3 people ;-)
04 Nov 11 Bogo, Cebu
Today my cousin Mary Ann took me to meet my cousin Lim. He runs Caswell Sports Apparel, a small
tailor’s shop that my mother financed over 30 years ago. Lim is cool, and I like him very much. He is 40, has three kids and a wife to look
out for. The shop is doing ok but he has
to work pretty hard for what he has – nothing new there! Of course, he has upper cross syndrome from hunching over sewing machines - his rhomboids are rock solid and his pecs are short. I showed him how to stretch out a bit and told him to sit up straight.
My awesome cousin Lim with his freshly made shorts:
03 Nov 2011 Bogo, Cebu
Today my mother and I peeled split bamboo, which will be
varnished and used to make the interior walls of her nipa hut. (It has a hammock inside, and is quite cute.) One peels bamboo with a bolo, or
machete. The trick is to just take the
skin off of it and also shave down the joints, which are very knobby.
Mom and her bamboo. To the right is my Aunt Neneng, cleaning fish for our lunch (YUMS!!!):
We got quite a bit done before I noticed that the flies that
pester us all tirelessly were in fact biting my newly healed dog bite scars and
opening them up again. Needless to say I
grew a little resentful. (Buddha is
really making me work at being good.) I
stopped and took a shower, which I really needed, then fired up my laptop and
noticed that it had been invaded by a team of very small ants. I sighed, flipped the laptop over and beat
the ants out of it. I’m not sure I want
to get used to living so closely to the insect world, but it seems to be
unavoidable in the tropics. Bugs are
everybloodywhere and you can either get used to it or go around screaming like
that dippy tart in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. Anything goes!
My clothes are getting irritatingly large. It’s embarrassing, going around with a saggy
bum all the time. I’m not trying to be
some sex kitten – I’m so definitely not on the pull but still, it would be nice
to look nice. I don’t want to buy
clothes though; it just means more to carry.
I doubt that Pete will want his old shorts back but I can’t bear to
throw his things away. I’m happy that
I’ve lost weight – I measured myself the other day and a few more inches have
melted off, yay. I regret not bringing
smaller clothes with me when I was originally packing – at the time I thought
it was presumptuous to assume future shrinkage, when in fact I should have
taken it as read. (Yes Lobo, it pains me
to admit it but you were right xxx.)
02 Nov 2011 Bogo, Cebu, Philippines
Yesterday we visited the cemetery of my family in
Kinawahan. The custom in the Philippines
is to visit deceased relatives on the 1st and 2nd of November. There are many family cemetaries here. They are beautifully kept - cleaned, painted, bedecked with flowers and gifts. Some families stay in the crypt for the two days and even sleep there. We only stayed the evening and had a barbecue. The Bandolon family cemetary has a kitchen and bathroom.
On top of the burial chambers (there are four, with one occupied)
is a line of skulls. I asked my mother
who they were and she pointed them out.
On the far right is her mother - my grandmother - and next to Grandmother
is Grandfather. My Auntie Neneng came to
stand beside us and we held each other while we cried – for them, for us, for
me; for I am too many years too late to know my mother’s parents.
My mother took me to the place where she was born and raised. Her mother’s house is long gone, but her
brother still has a house there. There
is a small bay with a rocky beach, and it’s very quiet. I thought I understood the poverty my mother
was raised in, but now I have truly seen it for myself. To think that she clawed her way up from a nipa hut by the sea, with no electricity, running water or money, to what she
is today is amazing. What a role
model! My mother is an honourable woman
and has accomplished incredible things in her career. Respect, Mom.
You’ve earned it, and more.
Since coming to S.E. Asia I have begun to see that the trap
that I so neatly avoided by being born in the privileged West is more than not
having money. It’s the understanding of
self worth, and about wanting to be more than one is and seizing the
opportunity to upgrade. I know that I have an ego and an attitude that has cost me dearly in
the past, but I am too stubborn to change my ways. I am independent, decidedly so, and have
always made it a point to carry more than my fair share of the breadwinning and bacon home-bringing. I have made my own decisions, for good or
bad, and somehow lived with them. I have
met demons and gone toe to toe with them – winning more often than losing,
I might add. I always assume I'm going to succeed at whatever
I attempt. I never plan for failures. Would I have had the
strength to do these things had I been born without hope or the opportunities given me by my excellent education? Would
I have still been the same fearless,
mule-headed me inside?
In the Philippines
education is expensive. If there is no
one to help pay for secondary school then one doesn’t go. One has to find a job. In an economy that has been crippled by
exodus of the US
military there aren’t a lot of good paying jobs here, not that there were
massive amounts to choose from before.
There are many women that have no other choice but to become “masseuses”
in hotels etc. These girls are young,
uneducated and have very little chance to change that. Their employers expect them to perform as
required, and this job can be taken away for as little as no reason at all. Their only hopes are to find someone that
will support them, or to steal enough to not have to work for a while, at
least. There are a lot of massage
parlours in the Philippines.
Of course, there is always field work, or laundry (scrubbing
done by hand, crouched over a wash bowl).
A lady can make 120 pesos a day, working from dawn to dusk. This is "good" money. In terms of economy, a kilo of rice (the cheap
stuff) is 35 pesos. Mangos are 10-15
pesos each. Fish can be as cheap as 10
pesos, but can be quite a bit dearer, depending on the size and type. A kilo of ground pork is 165 pesos. A litre of petrol is 43 – 44 pesos. A new Mitsubishi half-ton truck is 1.2
million pesos. Forty-two pesos equals one US dollar.
I know a couple that work very hard for what they earn. They have seven kids (!!!) and live in a nipa hut that is leaning to the left in a bad way. The ground around and under their hut is muddy, as is the trail one has to walk down to get to their house. The walls are made of bamboo strips and woven coconut leaf mats supplemented by discarded advertising signs (the banner type), and don't quite meet the tin roof. Their youngest child, a boy, wears nothing but a t-shirt - there are no diapers for him. When he soils himself he's easy to clean, at least. There is no running water, no loo, no electricity. My mother is lending them ten thousand pesos ($250-ish) to build a new house, and she knows damn well she's not going to get the money back for a very long time, if ever. It's amazing what $250 can achieve, in the right hands.
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