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My Catholic Filipina Does Passover

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My family lives 3,000 miles away from me (or is it the other way around) so other than my sister (who attended our wedding) Janet had never met any of my remaining family members. As we well know, since family is essential in the Philippines, this had become a big deal. Yes, Janet is Facebook friends with some family members and nowadays that’s as good as actually seeing someone in the flesh. And yet I knew that for her it wasn’t enough.

Plus, I generally go back home promptly about once a decade and it was time. In addition, my aunt and uncle who are the glue of the family are getting older. This all added up to the suggestion that we go “back East” to the wilds of New Jersey for Passover, the one time in the year where everyone who is available and above ground gets together.

I booked tickets for Janet, me and my 15 year old daughter. She hadn’t seen the relatives since she was five so also believed it was about time. So, this past Thursday we all went for a three day whirlwind.

We took a red eye (I barely slept) and arrived in Newark early in the AM. My sister was already waiting and it was great to see her again. For work purposes she owns a large panel van without back seats. Having crammed this trip into my schedule and more importantly into my budget I was too cheap to rent a car, so we spent the weekend bouncing between the steel walls of the back of the van and ended up shaken but not stirred.

The first stop was a drive to suburban Philadelphia to see the ancestral burial plot. The patriarch of the family, Jack, bought eight plots back in the day when such things seemed very very important to families. Five of the eight are occupied and the other three reserved, though not for me. My mother, maternal grandparents, paternal grandmother and an uncle reside there. Ironically, Jack, who shelled out the cash and about whom I spoke in my last blog entry, ain’t there. Such is life in America, where a man paying rarely means he gets to benefit.

The key reason for visiting was to see my mother’s grave. My sister and I were very close to our mother who died at the very young age of 40, so I had not been to her grave in many years. I wanted to introduce her to Janet and to my daughter, who was partly named after her.

Strangely enough, the other reason we visited my mother’s grave was to avoid seeing my father. At nearly 86 my father is an old crank. This is not a criticism of the old, which after all I just about am. He was a young crank as well and hasn’t spoken to anyone in the family in many years.

A couple months before the trip I called my sister and asked “Should we go visit him? It probably would be the last time.” My sister was horrified and I was pretty shocked at my own suggestion. I mostly made it because I have been unable to explain to my family-oriented Filipina wife why we don’t speak to our father. When I corrected Janet, telling her “he doesn’t speak to us” her response was we ought to see him and thus I reluctantly suggested it to my sister.  After we slapped each other back to reality I suggested that we visit the only parent who might actually want to see us – the one in the cemetery.

It was actually nice to reminisce about our mother and other relatives, and take lots of smiling pics at the family plot (I am married to a Filipina, after all).

I next suggested we visit our ancestral home and show Janet and my daughter where we grew up. The suburban neighborhood was still OK but not as showy as I thought it was when we lived there in the 60s-70s, when it was a sub-division filled with hundreds of shiny aluminum sided, split level homes. The house appeared empty and I took out my camera and began taking pics of all of us in front of the home, when the owner appeared out of nowhere and appeared pissed. We quickly apologized and explained why we were there.

Elderly and Russian she invited us in and we were transformed into our childhood. Her husband, who looked like an elderly and Jewish version of Putin,  soon arrived and once again there was a round of rapid, very nervous explanations of what we were doing there.

I couldn’t help but be impressed and find humor in the juxtaposition between our nicely maintained suburban house now occupied by Russian Jews. When we grew up, the neighborhood was 95% Jewish, but Russian – no way. Russians in those days were thought to be like Khrushchev with missiles off our coast; not the warm, inviting people who took strangers into their home and showed off what they had done to restore it.

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We bid the Russian couple goodbye, stopped for the required Philly cheesesteaks, driving 30 minutes to my sister’s fave place, and then returned back to Jersey to check into our hotel room. I had booked a modest, aka cheap, place but it was a national chain, so assumed it would be adequate. I couldn’t be more wrong.

It was early season for the coastal town of Seaside, which will get busy starting in May. We went into our room which appeared not to have been cleaned since summer season last year. I have been in many modest hotels in the Philippines and other Asian countries but never saw a pit like this. I complained and the desk clerk showed us the room next door, which was equally a hole. Apparently they had not discovered cleanser or the joys of vacuuming in this part of New Jersey. The clerk, sharp as a tack, could see our unhappiness and came back a couple minutes later with a solution; another hotel just up the street. It too was a dump but at least a clean dump. I have to say that the three women I was traveling with were pretty cool about it all and I escaped too much female wrath, though by the next day everyone in the family had heard the story.

That night we went to our aunt and uncle’s home for dinner. The next day would be the big Passover gathering but that night we were invited for a meet and greet. I think Janet was nervous knowing how important my aunt and uncle are to us.

First, a bit of an aside. My 15 year old daughter did not have a completely positive reaction when Janet and I married. One of her objections (all of them somewhat understandable) was that Janet looked her age. I argued that while Janet was indeed young, slender and a bit shorter than most Americans, she certainly did not look like she was in middle school or high school. That was just plain ridiculous!

We entered the home where my 90 year old uncle warmly greeted us. My daughter entered the kitchen where my aunt was preparing dinner.

“Janet,” she excitedly exclaimed, hugging my daughter. “I am so glad to finally meet you!’

“That’s not exactly Janet,” I corrected her. “This is Janet,” I said, shoving Janet toward my aunt. Everyone managed to fake a cool attitude, as I estimated the number of times I will get busted for this gaffe over the balance of my life.

But all told Janet loved our trip. The family was wonderful to my lovely wife and she appreciated being accepted as a new member of the family. Did I mention she liked Gefilte fish? She’s now officially a Catholic Jew!

 

 

 

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Jealous Filipinas & My Stalker

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I haven’t written anything in a couple weeks and for that I apologize. There’s lots going on and lots to chew on in my life.

One of the subjects that comes up often due to the impact of social media is greed and jealousy, and despite the fact that most of our Filipina wives came from poorer backgrounds, it impacts them just as much as rich kanos.

It works sort of like this. A Filipina friend or wife of a friend posts her latest acquisition on Facebook: let’s say a hot new phone. Everyone ooos and aaahhhs and congratulates her. But within a couple days the backlash begins. “Did you see what she posted?” “She’s just bragging.” “She thinks she’s better than the rest of us.” “Her husband much be rich.” Well, you get the idea.

It’s a really fine line and because of modern social media, it’s an easy line to cross. A few years ago I leased a jet black, Bavarian-made car (wink-wink). I emphasize lease because I didn’t own it; with leasing you’re essentially renting the thing. I got a decent deal and rationalized that in my old age I deserved driving a better car at least once in my life. I posted pics of my new acquisition on Facebook, but then I began to worry. Was I just sharing my excitement with my friends or bragging? To this day I don’t know, but as I say it’s a fine line. My ex-wife made a pointedly snide comment about my new toy and I found myself rationalizing, “Hey it’s only a lease and I got a good deal.”

When my grandfather, Jack, was alive he got a new Cadillac every couple of years (no one knew from Bavarian cars back then, not that a Jew was supposed to own one). I don’t remember him ever rationalizing. He had a younger wife, a shiny new Caddy and played golf every day; life was good – what was there to apologize for? That’s what you were supposed to strive for!

Of course I’ve posted dozens of pics of Janet over the last few years. Naturally I don’t choose the unflattering ones. Am I just letting people know what we are up to or am I bragging about my hot wife? A bit of both I guess.

We travel and will be traveling again to the Philippines in less than a month. I’ll no doubt post tons of pics and videos and share stories and impressions of the places we will go to. I’d hate to feel that someone might consider me a braggart. I suppose it’s Jewish guilt.

Maybe I ought to copy the attitude of my grandfather, Jack. BTW, I’ve been trying to subtlety float the idea to Janet that “Jack” is a pretty good name for a boy. If we ever had a kid and named him Jack, I’m pretty damn sure I know how he’ll turn out.

This has all been going through my mind because I recently found out that Ex Number Two, who unceremoniously kicked me out 8 1/2 years ago has been reading this very blog. I kid you not! Not only is she apparently a loyal reader but she’s been sharing tidbits of what I have written with my teens. I am guessing her purpose is not to show my kids how happy a life their dad now has.

Now, fundamentally I don’t feel that I have anything to hide. And believe it or not I don’t write much differently from how I talk. I’m a smart-assed Jew from Philly. The language that I use and the irreverent tone would be nothing new to anyone who knows me, including my kids.

And despite the tone of openness and transparency on this blog, there are subjects and incidents that I don’t write about. There’s innuendo but nothing more here.
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I find it fascinating and a bit gross that Ex Number Two is reading this, like some kind of 50-something stalker. Could it be envy or jealousy or just hoping to catch me in something she can use against me? Or perhaps just general fascination with my remarkable life 🙂

Whatever the reason, let’s all welcome her!

When Janet 1st arrived in the U.S. a year and a half ago, both Ex Number Two and her brother found excuses to come over and enter our house. Neither had been inside for years. They weren’t looking for me. I guess that wanted to check out Hot Current Wife Number One 🙂

When Janet was preparing to come to the U.S. I was warned by some that we would encounter anger and jealousy. I’ve seen it a time or two, but in all honesty not often. I suspect that is more because of my own naivety or lack of insight into the negative feelings of others. Actually it’s most likely that I don’t give a shit. If some old fart in the mall sees us walking along and holding hands – what do I care what he thinks.

A lot of guys think the jealousy thing in the U.S. is caused by feminism but I don’t know if that’s the primary reason. I guess it’s a factor but I see guys just as annoyed as women. My guess is that they know I am getting something at home that they are not – and getting it fairly often 🙂 Like I say, I can be subtle without being X-rated!

The more I think about it, jealousy and envy are about the most destructive negative emotions we deal with as humans. Anger, even violent anger fades; we calm down and move on – if reluctantly. But seething jealousy is forever. Is Ex Number Two ever gonna forget that Bimmer or the hot young wife? I’m guessing not. It festers (see the image above).

I think our collective attitudes ought to change. Instead of being jealous when that friend posts the pics of the new iPhone, Pinays ought to remember that they are Americans now and should act American – meaning go out and buy two iPhones.

And BTW, I now lease a Ford and if any friend dares post a pic of his new Bimmer, I’m gonna be jealous! Expect to get keyed.

 

 

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The Disadvantage of Your “Child” Bride

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I know there’s lots of drama and plenty of outraged moral judgment when it comes to marrying a younger Filipina, but here’s a problem I never anticipated.

For the past week Janet has been complaining about her fingers. They swell and get itchy after she works. The first day I had to nearly force her to take an Advil (she hates medicines) which did the trick in relieving the swelling. I assumed she’d just been overdoing it at work.

Janet works hard and I am very proud of her. She recently was promoted to Asst. Manager in her department and I believe the recognition was directly correlated to her outworking most of her American counterparts, who are in the main, entitled and lazy. I won’t say they are also dumb, because that would be insulting 🙂

So it certainly occurred to me that she had overdone it at work and she never complains. She routinely cuts or burns herself at work. At night she shows me her wounds like a badge of honor. At first I was appalled, later I just assumed my young wife was a bit of a klutz, and finally I grew to accept the almost daily marks demonstrating her hard work and perseverance.

So, when she complained about swollen hands I didn’t much worry. Janet was mostly upset about the fact that the swollen fingers would not allow her to wear her wedding ring and joked that someone might assume she was “available.”

But on Friday she called me at work. The fingers were much worse. I decided to come home then and told her I would pick up some Benadryl on my way. The itchy finger symptom made me think of allergies.

Sure enough her fingers were more swollen, there were some lesions on them and they were itchy as hell. Topical Benadryl cream relieved some of the itch but by Saturday morning she asked to go to the doctor. We had tried to determine whether she was using latex gloves at work, since Dr. Dave was still diagnosing an allergic reaction, but were unable to get a confirmation one way or the other. So off to the clinic we went with me still thinking that some kind of allergy would be discovered.

No docs were working at the clinic on Saturday and we got a young, but competent sounding Physician’s Assistant. “I don’t think it’s an allergy,” she said. “The blisters are a dead giveaway. It’s a virus.”

Janet got scared but the PA reassured her. “Every American child gets this virus and once you get it you are immune.”
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I reminded the PA that Janet had never been an American child.

She continued, “Sometimes it’s on the hands, feet or inside the mouth. Since it’s a virus not bacteria there’s nothing to do but get through it. If the Benadryl or Advil help great. Otherwise it should go away in a few days.”

We were relieved it wasn’t an allergy to latex and Janet was glad she could return to work but a bit embarrassed that she had a child’s disease. The literature the PA gave us about it constantly referred to what the parent could do to relieve the child’s symptoms. My child bride kept slathering on the Benadryl cream for a day or two before declaring success.

On Monday I returned to work. The friendly, young barista (maybe 21) at the cafe always asks me about how my weekend was while she makes my mocha. I told her the story about my wife with the childhood virus.

“How old’s your wife? ” she asked.

I didn’t hesitate, “Twenty six.”

We both showed remarkable control: she didn’t blink and I didn’t crack up.

BTW, other than this recent incident, I have yet to find any disadvantage to having a “child bride.” Hopefully Janet hasn’t found much of a disadvantage to having a childish husband.

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Cebu is Less of a S*ithole – More Tips & Nonsensical Words of Bulls*it

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My last blog entry, Manila is a S*ithole and other Words of Wisdom, was a hit! No two ways about it. The first day it was posted I received the most hits I’ve every received on this blog. Hell, the second day I still received more hits than I had ever received in a day.

Clearly you folks like it when I curse! I’ve thrown two bombs in the title here, which ought to ensure a massive readership 🙂

1. Cebu is Less of a Shithole!: There is a reason that Cebu City is often called “Little Manila.” The same reasons I trashed the capital of the Philippines in my last outing are true of Cebu: Traffic congestion, pollution, poverty, kids on the street, crime. All the goodies are there.

But there are some positives. The airport’s not bad and I now always fly into Cebu. Hell, there’s even a decent hotel right across the street, eliminating the need for getting a taxi and risk being ripped off for a couple hundred pesos late at night. Of course you could get taken by scores of guys wanting to carry your bags. Just lip point across the street and tell them you can manage to drag your bags and kano ass yourself.

There’s decent malls for the wife, a few sites to see (Tops is my fave – it overlooks the city and the view is great), some cool churches, and the Magellan Cross. And if you’re single and not a complete lummox you can find an attractive girl or two; hell, you can do that even if you are a complete lummox 🙂

It short, Cebu’s a decent starting off point but I wouldn’t stay there any longer than necessary.

2. Check out the provinces:  There are a certain number of guys who think if the place doesn’t have a major mall, a McDonald’s, and a good supply of hot and cold running bar girls, it’s not a good place to go to. Nonsense!

BTW, there are a hell of a lot of nice cities not named Manila and Cebu. Just in my modest experience I like Cagayan de Oro, Davao, Dumaguete, and Tagbilaran. All those and others have those city amenities you’re jonesing for without some of the qualities I dislike in the two biggest cities.

But further still, you should broaden your horizons and check out other islands and towns; the vast majority of the Philippines, that some expats simply lump together and call “the provinces.”

The beaches, the people, the air, food – frankly just about everything is superior. Even the women are, though you’ll have to do your own comparison shopping!

3. Stop worrying about American foods: I just saw a posting on Facebook from a guy wondering where he could find American groceries in Boracay. No offense to the guy, if he happens to read this, but if you go halfway around the world and are lucky enough to get to a beach like Boracay (or Palawan or Camiguin for that matter) and all you’re worried about is finding your favorite ketchup – there is no hope for you.

OK, ok – you expats who live in the Philippines are different and get a bit of a pass. I get why after a year you might want a non-Skakeys slice of pizza, spaghetti without a sugar laden sauce, or the aforementioned ketchup actually made with tomatoes not bananas; I still don’t get banana ketchup and probably never will. But for the casual or serious visitor, man up and try some adobo, find some lechon (your girl will go gaga), take a gamble with some crap on a stick from a street vendor (ask them to hold the food poisoning 🙂 ), and quaff a San Mig or two. Hey, Oscar Meyer hot dogs and French’s mustard will still be waiting for you when you get back home.
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I get why after a year you might want a non-Skakeys slice of pizza, spaghetti without a sugar laden sauce, or the aforementioned ketchup actually made with tomatoes not bananas.

4. Try a trike or jeepney: You haven’t really been to the Philippines unless you occasionally get in a trike or jeepney. I am a short guy but even I have to squeeze into a trike, but hell I’m squeezing next to the wife, so that’s not so bad. I’ve even taken a couple rides in pedal powered trikes at Janet’s home in Alcoy. I felt bad for the driver who had to peddle up a hill carrying my kano keester, no doubt a hell of a lot heavier than the average Filipino.

Jeepney’s are often considered dangerous, and passengers may stare at you like a dog stares at a juicy steak, but my ancient lungs can still yell for the cops, Janet carries pepper spray and is skilled at kicking people. So take a chance and experience the real Philippines.

5. Meet the Family: You’ve met the girl of your dreams, she’s as sweet as you imagined and now she wants to take you to the aforementioned “provinces” to meet her family. Go!

Sure, you’ve read all the horror stories about evil families taking advantage of you, the simple, naïve kano. It ain’t always so. If you’re very lucky they will come to view you as part of their family as well.

6. Mussolini was a terrible dictator but the trains ran on time: I chuckle at guys who post about the terrible governmental corruption in the Philippines. My guess is that most of these guys’ political activism in their home country doesn’t extend beyond the barstool or their fave tshirt which declares “Obamacare Sucks!”

Not to suggest that there isn’t plenty of corruption in the Philippines. I read a recent post (and a good one at that) by an expat who has lived in the Philippines over 40 years. He spoke fondly of the Marcos era when policeman were respectful and criminals were dealt with fairly – IOW executed. Of course Marcos was a dictator, no one got to vote for him, but the jeepneys ran on time.

Today the Philippines is a democracy but like with most new democracies, it’s a work in progress. The one central dictator has been replaced by a thousand petty ones. You might want to consider that while arguing with the cop over that traffic light you didn’t blow threw.

7. Tip of the Day: Your wife/gf will talk about ghosts and witches. She ain’t referring to Casper or a scary movie. She believes. You may come to believe also. When Janet says she is going to witch someone, I no longer laugh – I duck!

 

 

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Manila is a S*ithole and Other Words of Wisdom

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I just got a great email from a reader preparing for his first trip to the Philippines to meet his girlfriend, who he hopes to someday marry. I realized in answering his questions how much basic information people struggle with about visiting the Philippines (or any international travel for that matter) and marrying a Filipina.

At the same time, I am on a variety of Philippines-related forums and sometimes  roll my eyes at the debates and misinformation spewed out there. It suddenly occurred to me that visitors to these sites, seeking information are making a fundamental mistake in their approach – they aren’t simply skipping the middle man and contacting me first 🙂

Therefore I thought I would write the 1st in a potential series of what in my industry would be called “core dumps” about traveling to the Philippines, meeting your girl and her family, and surviving to tell the tale. I’ll end with a mini traveling tip.

1. Manila is a Shithole: Yes, you’ve heard it here first. Manila is all the stereotypes it is famous for. It’s dirty, polluted, the traffic is insane, it’s expensive by Philippines standards, taxis are nuts, beggars are everywhere, and the people are…well you get the idea; I don’t much care for the place. Now I know a few guys who like the city, and no doubt there are Filipina readers who were raised in Manila – and to those I apologize – but I won’t amend my statement.

Yes, Manila has an international airport (one of the worst rated in the world) and some high end malls, there are some neighborhoods that are better than others, and there are plenty of clubs for those of you into “clubbing” (wink-wink). Nonetheless, if you are a Westerner and visiting the Philippines for the 1st time (or the 10th time), unless your fiancé lives in Manila, avoid it like the plague. I see constant postings by guys who went to the Philippines, hung out in Manila and Angeles, hated the place, and complained at the fools who had advised them that the Philippines was a glorious, tropical country filled with wonderful Pinays. It is glorious – except for Manila – you have been warned.

2. You’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto: Americans (and that’s what I am, so I’m gonna hit it from that POV) do very little International traveling (Canada and Mexico don’t count, so don’t make me come over there and smack you) and we know nothing (and care even less) about the differences in various cultures. Don’t let the Philippines fool you. Yes, most Filipinos speak some English, know something about and love American culture, and the women will claim they love you the first time they see your pasty white guapo visage. But the Philippines ain’t America. Nothing they do will be done in the way you do it or Americans do it. I mean nothing! BTW, in my opinion this is often a good thing. But most guys can’t handle it. Adapt or die, cause it starts the moment you get off the plane. Want to have a happy vacation or a successful start with your new love? Assume nothing will be as you know it. You have landed on Mars. If you can make this leap, you have a chance to be successful; and a chance to fall in love with the Philippines. If not, you’re toast.

3. Not every Filipino is out to take advantage of you: OK, let me amend this; some Filipinos are out to take advantage of you. By comparison to the average Filipino you are Donald Freaking Trump, a billionaire with unlimited amounts of money – money that they hope to get a tiny taste of. Is this really so unusual? I owned a service business for many years and when a guy walked into my office wearing a $1k suit I knew it was gonna be a good day. I quickly pulled out my top of the line stuff and added a few bucks to the standard price, just because…well just because he could pay it and I was a poor working stiff.

Last year Janet and I were in Dumaguete. We ended up in a terrible argument about an overpriced trike ride, each assigning blame to the other for the fact that we had obviously been overcharged. Finally I calmed down and said to her, “Do you realize we are arguing about a ride that cost us $6?”

We went downstairs and asked the front desk clerk how much trike rides cost in Duma and from then on only paid the standard rate. Knowledge is power and it’s your responsibility to know how things work. So don’t be a dumbass, and if you get beat out of a few pesos, grin and bare it – and learn.

But I guess the real take away should be that if you assume everyone exists in the Philippines to take advantage of you – you’re gonna have a lousy time. Enjoy yourself. Any way you look at it your vacation’s gonna be a lot cheaper than almost anywhere you could go in the 1st world; and the view (both tropical and female) is gonna be a hell of a lot better.

4. There’s No Political Correctness in the Philippines: It’s surprising, sometimes off putting and often refreshing, but expect Filipinos to tell you directly what they think when it comes to other people and cultures. Your gf/wife will tell you she loves white skin, doesn’t like people with darker skin (including her own). You will hear references to person X, followed by “he’s a gay.” It’s not meant as an insult; just a point of information.

If someone is a bit overweight, you won’t hear references to glandular or hormonal issues; they’ll be called fat. Last night, as Oscar winner, Patricia Arquette, made her impassioned speech, Janet said what millions of others thought but wouldn’t dare say – “she’s getting fat.”

Filipinas are unlikely to understand you when you refer to African-Americans, Mexican-Americans, Native Americans, etc. They will just say “he’s black.” Or more likely they will say, “I’m black,” or “I’m too black,” and look very sad in saying so. Respond by saying you like black – black is good, devils food cake tastes yummier than angel food cake, and you will have a very good time.
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5. Family is everything: Now, many expats in the Philippines and men married to Filipinas say this in a negative way, but that’s not how I mean it. You probably wanted a woman with traditional values, didn’t you? That means family is central; they’re Leave it to Beaver with a Filipino accent, and Lumpy Rutherford is a little less well-nourished.

When you meet your gf/wife’s family you ought to check out how she treats her parents. That’s how she’s gonna treat you someday. Or, if you’re like me, and are older than her parents – that’s how she’s gonna treat you right away!

Now compare your relationship with your family at home – and enjoy the difference.

Remember, if you do the right thing, very soon you will be part of the family as well, and will be treated accordingly. And no, I am not just referring to being asked to kick in money, although that’s a sometime part of family life.

The first time I visited Janet’s family in Alcoy her younger brother attempted to take my bag and carry it for me. Since in the US we are independent and an older guy like me might consider it an insult, assuming I could not schlep my own bag – I politely refused, telling him that I was fine. He was confused, later asking Janet why I refused his help. I was looking at the whole thing though my American eyes; I sure as hell don’t expect my teens to help with a bag – and they don’t.

Janet waited a month or two before mentioning that her brother was surprised at my refusal. I realized it was a point of respect he was showing me, so from that point on I decided for subsequent trips to act feeble and let him help. Frankly, the whole family treats me wonderfully and it makes me wish for more of the same in my home country.

6. Today’s mini traveling tip: Carry lots of small bills or coins. I know, I know – you’re a rich kano who doesn’t want to be bothered carrying anything less than a 1000 peso note. Be bothered. The little store you want to buy a coke in, or the taxi driver you want to give a 20P tip to will not have change and then you will have to scurry around to find some change or get frustrated and overpay, thus being pissed off at getting cheated again. And if you are in Manila or Cebu and encounter a child looking for a coin – give one to him. It won’t kill you; you might even feel good about yourself. So carry lots of small stuff and leave most of the big bills at the hotel.

P.S. If you were offended by the title of this piece, I again apologize. You ought to realize by now that this is how I try to suck you in, right 🙂

An Update: It’s official! Manila is not a complete shithole. In-n-Out Burger comes to Manila.

 

 

 

 

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Back to the Beach (Boracay)

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“Just when I thought I was out… they pull me back in.” Michael Corleone, Godfather III.

So in our last episode of As the PI Turns, my frugal and lovely wife had decided not to go to Boracay and I booked five days in beautiful Camiguin.

That meant that the first week of our upcoming three week vacation was set. The last week would be spent in Alcoy, Cebu, Janet’s wonderful home town on the beach.

This left six days in between. While nothing had been booked we had a tentative plan. OK, truth be told – I had a tentative plan; a few days on the West side of Cebu, checking out Moalboal and the falls at Badian, and then taking the bus south to the tip of Cebu and crossing into Negros and heading for Dumaguete. A day on Apo Island, across from Dumaguete was a strong possibility. Then cross back into Cebu again, heading north about an hour to Alcoy. Don’t you just love it when a plan comes together!

Now, it just so happens that my good friend and mentor, Pete, had taken his lovely Filipina wife, Cathy, to Thailand for a much needed vacation. For days we got to see the great pictures on FB of their trip to Bangkok and Phuket. Janet and I spent a week in Thailand a couple years ago and had a good time – although I always thought I had a bit better time than Janet did.

For one thing Janet struggled with the Thai food, which is much spicier than anything in the Philippines. But her biggest issue was that virtually every Thai person we met took one look at Janet and assumed she was Thai. They immediately began speaking Thai to her – I mean every single person – for a week! She looked like a deer in the headlights. I’d have to come in and say, “She’s not Thai. She’s Filipina,” which would create a surprised response, each one claiming how much Janet looked like she was Thai. Frankly, some looked at us as if they thought I was lying.

So, I was a bit surprised when she suddenly said, “We have six days. Maybe we should go to Bangkok.” It took me a pained minute to change the focus of my brain, but I quickly adjusted. Over dinner I began looking at flight schedules. After all, she reasoned, we would be in the Cebu airport in the early morning after returning from Camiguin; we might as well stay there and go somewhere else. I checked flights for Thailand, Vietnam (where I spent a wonderful week several years ago, before meeting Janet), Bali, Singapore, Hong Kong. I even checked out what it would take to get to Beijing, a place I have always wanted to visit.

In each case there were layovers that meant that we wouldn’t arrive at a destination until early the next day. While I was excited about the possibility of taking Janet to another country, I was not excited about spending a day in another airport. The six days would essentially end up becoming four.

I went to the website of my favorite Philippines airline, Cebu Pacific, the airline with bright orange planes, cute orange flight attendants, and a slow as Philippines molasses website. I began just typing in the destinations listed on the website for any destination that might coordinate with our schedule.

And then, just for fun, I checked out flights to Boracay. Now remember, just a couple weeks before, wise Janet had rejected Bora because of it’s $500+ airfare for the two of us. But here I plugged in my dates, just a week later than what I had looked at before, and to my surprise discovered that the flights were $200 less. For me it was just an intellectual exercise; a curiosity. I mentioned it to Janet.
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Well you guessed it. “Let’s go to Boracay!” she declared.

“But you just said two weeks ago that you didn’t want to go. That after all it was only a beach with snorkeling and island hopping on a crowded touristy island.”

“But it’s much cheaper now.” Of course cheaper is relative. The flight’s cheaper than Thailand, cheaper than Vietnam and all the other countries. And $200 cheaper than it was for the previous week. Suddenly, Boracay was a steal!

I am nothing if not a devoted husband, determined to keep his wife happy. I booked the flight and booked the Island Jewel hotel, the hotel I had stayed at once before, as I detailed in our last episode. We will spend four days in Boracay, leaving two days left for a quick stop in Moalboal and Badian before our return to Alcoy.

The saying goes, “Happy wife – happy life.” Well I’m happy too. The GoPro ought to get a pretty good workout!

Addendum: I will be doing some video blogs of the trip, so get ready to see the real Philippines; or at least the real PI from my warped perspective.

 

 

 

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Camiguin and I Win Big Time!

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It’s about two months till we return to the Philippines. As excited as Janet is to see her family and home, I may be even more excited! I really like the place and can’t wait for some serious heat and humidity. I’m ready to tear my coat off, throw on some sandals, shorts and shades and soak in what’s become my second home.

Our vacation will entail three weeks in the Philippines. The last week is easy. We’ll spend it in Alcoy, Cebu, Janet’s hometown, with her family. I am looking forward to seeing them again and looking forward to seeing Alcoy again – it’s a beautiful spot. And it makes Janet happy to be there and I will get the credit – so there’s that, as well.

But what to do for the two weeks before then? We had been considering many options and had in fact asked all of you for opinions. Thanks to those who weighed in. Finally, one recent evening I suggesting to Janet that we needed to pry ourselves away from Facebook long enough to make a decision.

It wasn’t long into the discussion before Boracay came up. Now in some ways this would be a natural vacation consideration. Boracay is, after all, the best known and most popular tourist destination in the Philippines. Many lists include it among the best beaches in the world. For many Filipinos/as Boracay is a dream destination, since by Philippines standards it’s expensive and most Filipinas never get to go, unless they’re attached to a rich kano 🙂

But for Janet and I the name Boracay holds a bit more weight. You see, I’ve been to Boracay before, prior to meeting, falling in love with and marrying Janet. And most significantly, I was in Boracay with another girl.

But for Janet and I the name Boracay holds a bit more weight. You see, I’ve been to Boracay before, prior to meeting, falling in love with and marrying Janet. And most significantly, I was in Boracay with another girl.

So for us it’s not even an issue of what a nice white sand beach Bora has (it does) or whether it’s overcrowded with Chinese and Korean tourists (it is). The issue is “you took ‘her’ to Boracay.” This remark comes up perhaps every couple months and invariably I say, “I am happy to take you there if you’d like. We can go on our next visit.”

Now between you and me, here’s my honest appraisal of Boracay. The white beach is beautiful but it’s mobbed. It’s like Atlantic City when I was a kid. Bora is exciting and island hopping is fun. But I’m too damn old to need so much excitement and guys will ask you “Island hopping, Sir?” at least 10 times an hour as you walk the beach or boardwalk, until you wish they’d island hop themselves off the island or at least out of your way.

All this said, I liked Boracay, and would be happy to take Janet, but it’s not the be all and end all. It’s a fun place to go if you’re a tourist looking for fun and sun, but if you want to see the real Philippines – Boracay ain’t it.

As far as the notion that it’s expensive, it’s really not that bad. Decent hotels can be had for as low as $50/night (I’ll get to that soon) and you can eat dinner on the beach for under $10. Drinking and partying yourself silly every night might be another matter, but I’m not much of a drinker.

What is expensive about Boracay – is getting there. Cebu Pacific, my local favorite airline, has many flights a day from Cebu to Bora. They have an interesting way to market your trip. The flight to Bora is cheap, but getting off the island and back to Cebu is expensive!

Anyway, Janet and I had broken away from Facebook long enough to talk and decide to spend some time in Bora. I pulled up Agoda’s website (my fave hotel site) and we looked at many hotels. Janet’s only criteria was, “I don’t want to stay where you took her!” I readily agreed.

We did what we have done many times before; looked at prices and hotel reviews. Sometimes the price was right but the reviews sucked and other times it was the other way around. We are middle of the road travelers. Unlike our good friend, Jim, who declares as a badge of honor, “Life is too short to stay in a cheap hotel,” our motto is “Money is too tight to piss it away on a space we’re not going to spend time in.” So we want a nice bed, reasonable amenities, and aircon (April is summertime in the Philippines). And if breakfast is included that’s a big plus.

After looking at about a dozen hotels, Janet spotted one that was cheap and had a great Agoda review score.

“Let’s look at that one,” she said.

“Hmm. Maybe not, baby,” I quietly responded. “That’s the one I went to before.”

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Now, this is my worst nightmare come true. But I did as I was told and showed her the pics of the hotel and the reviews which are uniformly good. Most importantly, at $51/night with breakfast included, by Bora standards, the place is a steal. Plus it’s located at Station 3, which if you’ve every been to Bora, is away from the heart of the party madness.

Well, you guessed it. Janet liked the place and said, “Let’s stay there. Just not the same room,” she added giggling. I rolled my eyes, imagined the upcoming potential OA moments (OA means “over acting” for those not married to a Filipina) and agreed. “Book it now,” she said.

“No no. First I have to make sure we can get the flights, then I’ll book the hotel.”

So I left Agoda behind and proceeded to Cebu Pacific’s website. As I mentioned before, I like Cebu Pacific. I like their cheap fares, number of flights, cute orange planes, and cuter orange clad Flight Attendants. I love the games they play onboard; I even won once. But their website – that’s all Philippines. It’s convoluted and incredibly slow. The fare starts out very cheap, but as you click each page more charges are added; taxes, baggage charges, seat assignment charges, etc.

But this night was as slow as I’d ever seen the website work. Each click took about 5 minutes to get to the next page and with each page the price grew. Now I had explained many times to Janet that the airfare to Bora was expensive but here she was seeing it – and seeing it in slow motion. As minutes would go by between page refreshes she would exclaim, “OMG that’s expensive.”

“It’s OK ,” I’d respond. “We want to go. We’ll have a great time.”

Finally after 20 minutes staring at the Cebu Pacific site as it moved in Filipino time, it became clear to Janet (I already knew) that the airfare from Cebu to Boracay for two would top $500. She announced, “It’s too expensive. I don’t want to go.”

“It’s OK, baby. We can afford it.” But I could see her mind at work. I could tell she was thinking about what we could do with $500. Actually I figured she was thinking about all the clothes she could buy at Ayala Mall for $500!

“I don’t want to go there,” she announced.

“Are you sure,” I asked her several times. She was more adamant each time.

And that’s how we decided to spend five days in Camiguin. Total round trip airfare from Cebu to Camiguin for two = $160.

And if you don’t think that Camiguin is a total winner, check out this video. I already know I’m a total winner!

http://vimeo.com/110138549

 

 

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I crack up the Social Security office

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As an addendum to yesterday’s blog about babies and funerals in the Philippines, I spent the afternoon on the phone with the friendly people at Social Security. Since I am turning 62 this week, even though I will not yet avail myself of my Social Security retirement benefit, it reminded me that I had a couple questions.

I’d called Social Security once before and in both cases found the help I received excellent, especially considering it came from US government workers, generally considered about as friendly as Kim Jong Un after watching “The Interview.”

The previous time I spoke to a very nice woman, but this time it was a guy and somehow I can speak a little bit differently to a guy.

I asked him several fun questions, like what my 15 year old might receive if I die, and how I could keep her from just pissing it away at the mall.

Finally I said, “I am remarried to someone a bit younger and she wants a baby and I want to understand my options.” The man on the other end of the line starts giggling. I start cracking up also.

He said, “You’re a lucky man.”

“You have no idea,” I replied.

He continued, “I’m about to turn 50. My partner’s 61.”
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“So you’ve done the opposite of me,” I said. “Good for you. It takes all kinds.”

“You’re a lucky man,” he repeated. By now we were laughing our asses off.

“Let’s just say that when I hit the milestone birthday I am about to celebrate my age will be the exact opposite of my wife’s.”

“Damn, you’re a lucky man!”

Later, when I related the story, Janet told me that I was just bragging and I suppose she’s right. But I got to figure that most people call Social Security out of sadness, desperation and with tales of woe. Me? I cracked the guy up. I thanked him for his help and agreed that in retirement I will be very very lucky.

 

 

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On old age, babies, and funerals (mine?) in the Philippines

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In a couple of days I will hit a major milestone – the age that Social Security deems I can retire early. Of course before my co-workers begin the celebration, I should say that I am not retiring now, but apparently I could if I wanted to live on the pittance that I would get from a 3/4 Social Security payment.

Once again this experience reminds me that I am an old fart living the dream, married to a slightly less elderly Filipina and that for the next few months our ages will be the exact opposite of each other (62 and 26).

Like many old farts I am in contact with my high school friends via Facebook. Since at 21 I moved as far away from my home in Philadelphia as I possibly could and still remain in the continental US, I have not seen most of these people in over 40 years.

Last night I was looking at my long list of high school Facebook “friends” and thought of a friend I hadn’t seen on FB. I did a quick search. Yep, you guessed it; he died two years ago. This is the second time in six months that I have searched for a friend that I’d wondered about for decades and the second time I found that the only viable reason someone isn’t on Facebook, is because they’re dead.

I found that the only viable reason someone isn’t on Facebook, is because they’re dead.

Janet came home from work and I told her I was a bit sad at my discovery. She knows me well enough to know that I was feeling my own mortality and reminded me I am healthy and that most importantly my otin still works and consequently we will have a baby and that between my young wife and child I will remain young for many years to come. Either that, I thought,  or they will put me in my grave quickly – but I kept that to myself.

In fact, I recently had a conversation with another high school friend on Facebook (this one is actually still alive) who is very happy that I have Janet in my life but implored me to not have children. After all, she reminded me how old I would be when a new baby hits 21.

“I may be old, but I can still do the math,” I reminded her. “The good news is I may not even live till my current kids are 21,” I declared hopefully.

I reminded her that ultimately no one knows. My mother, in great shape, died at 40 when I was 19 and my father 100 bills overweight is still alive and cantankerous at 85.

This led Janet and I to a conversation about her plans about a baby. She is confident that she can control the characteristics of said baby and so here is her plan.

Naturally, the baby will be female.

She will have my skin and nose – a given if you ask Filipinas. This is the reason they married us – our long noses and pasty skin color.

The baby will have Janet’s eyes, hair color and texture. No bald babies for us!

The baby will have Janet’s figure.

However, the baby will have my loboot (ass). Janet is constantly complaining about her loboot (personally I like it very much) and wishes that I could miraculously “give me your loboot.” I wouldn’t mind giving her 10-20 of my pounds. If anyone has any suggestions about how to make such a transplant, let me know. But in the meantime I am tasked to give the baby my big loboot.

With the baby to be’s looks being now decided (who needs an ultrasound) it was time for us both to scan Facebook for any new and  essential information of the day. We stumbled on a question about a elderly German living in the Philippines, near death and broke, and what could be done about burial costs.

Naturally this let to a conversation about my impending demise. I repeated that I preferred cremation and that Janet ought to keep it simple and not spend a bunch of money on me, since after all I will be dead.

“But where will I visit you if we cremate?” Janet asked. This is essential to a Filipina and a Catholic.

“Well I guess you can keep the urn if you want. Then you don’t have to visit me. I’ll be with you.”

“I don’t like that,” she replied. “Then your spirit will be watching me constantly.”

“Then scatter my ashes,” I replied as a reasonable Westerner.

It cialis generika http://appalachianmagazine.com/2014/02/10/februarys-must-see-location-north-carolinas-shadow-of-a-bear/ can help achieve an erection when sexual stimulation occurs. If an altered menstrual cycle does not convince best cialis price you to stop taking it, perhaps the fact that it causes oversensitivity to your genitalia will. Erectile dysfunction (ED) is nothing but the inability of performing on the bed and satisfying the partner’s cialis generico online needs. Heart disease will stay http://appalachianmagazine.com/2019/03/12/appalachian-weddings-times-of-chaos-revelry/ price tadalafil tablets unnoticed until the first symptom attacks you. “But then there will be no place to visit you.” We were back to the beginning.

“Well, bury some of the ashes under a tree.” I am nothing if not a great problem solver.

“Not the same,” she said.

“Whatever you want then. I’ll be dead. Bury me, so you can visit me.”

“This is best,” she replied. “Then people can see you in death. How many days should the viewing be?”

“What! No way.” In Jewish tradition we are much more reasonable (and sanitary). There are no open coffins and the deceased is buried within 48 hours.

“Then how will family be able to say their goodbyes. In the Philippines they pass the coffin and touch you.”

“I don’t want anyone to be touching me when I am dead!”

“Then you can get an expensive coffin with a glass cover.”

“I don’t want anyone to see me when I’m dead. I’m not that great looking alive. Let’s go back to cremation.”

“But then I can’t visit you.” We were back to the beginning again.

“But I don’t want to spend a bunch of money on a plot; it’s a waste.”

“In the Philippines you can rent the plot. 500 pesos a year.”

“That’s pretty cheap (about $12/year). Forever?”

“Oh no. Only for five years.”

“Then what?”

“They dig you up and take your bones and put them in a small box.”

So I have made a decision. You’ve heard it here first. I am not dying!

 

 

 

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The Party’s Over

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Since it’s January 6th, the holidays have officially ended. That’s what I have learned, now that I am married to a Filipina. Gee all these years as a Jew I assumed that Christmas ended on December 25th; now I know better. In the Philippines, Christmas season starts in September and ends on January 6th. So, tonight the decorations and tree can officially be placed away – for at least a few months.

So, let’s review how Janet’s 2nd Christmas in the United States went. As I mentioned before she was definitely home sick and one of the things we decided to do was host a Christmas Eve party for about a dozen of our friends. Now, I’ll be frank and say I am not a great host. You’d think after a couple marriages (OK, three) I would be well familiar with how to host parties, but in the end I do what most husbands do – whatever she wants.

What to serve? It took several conversations to explain to Janet that a pot luck was traditional here, even for a Christmas party. In the Philippines by definition the person hosting the party provides everything; the guests simply arrive hungry and thirsty and with bags or pockets to carry the excess food. Of course we did provide plenty of food, beer, soda, etc. But everyone kicked in with an eclectic mix of Filipino and American food.

As at all Fil-Am parties, the girls congregated in our dining room and the guys separated into the living room; and each group chika chikaed (gossiped) about the other. The guys like me, married for a relatively short period of time, shook their heads at the latest escapades of their Gracie Allen-like wives (for those old enough to remember Gracie; for you youngsters – look her up), while the more seasoned husbands wryly listened, chuckled with fake wisdom, and commented that we still didn’t know squat about Filipinas.

I used to wonder what the girls talked about and would ask Janet after such parties, but no longer. A good friend of mine, married to a Pinay for about ten years said his strategy was not to learn too much Visayan; he thinks he’s better off not knowing what the girls are saying. Most of what I’m told from the chika chika sessions doesn’t make sense to me and honestly I no longer want to know. I guess I am learning. I suspect they are not extolling the guaponess of their husbands.

The party over and the guests gone, midnight arrived. It didn’t take much arm twisting for Janet and I to convince each other that it was OK to open our presents. I am an old fart in the present buying department. I learned from kids and exes that asking in advance what they would like guarantees general happiness, if not a whole hell of a lot of surprise. Thus Janet got many of the items on her list, as well as one item not on her list but strongly hinted at (see picture above). I received the watch which I mentioned in a previous blog posting.

Deep Blue MOP
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I am an off and on watch collector and while this watch was not expensive it was very cool looking and I was really looking forward to owning it. More importantly was the fact that Janet was excited to give me something I really wanted. It had been so long since I’ve received a gift that I really wanted that I felt like a kid at Christmas.

I made it clear that the watch should be my present for Christmas, Hanukkah and my birthday in January.  But immediately after Christmas Janet started hinting that she wanted to get me something for my birthday. I resisted for awhile, reminder her yet again that as an old, rich kano I needed nothing, but she reminded me that I did need some new pants or jeans and I reluctantly agreed that I could use a new pair.

Unfortunately, like my taste in watches, my taste in clothes is eclectic and unfortunately not cheap. Pants sourced at Walmart are not normally acceptable to me, both from a style standpoint and the fact that in order to get them you actually have to go to Walmart, which I no longer wish to do.

As an aside I should say that when Janet arrived in the US she was curious about the Walmart phenomena she had heard about. So one day, close to Christmas of 2013 we went to the closest Walmart.  As expected it was a zoo. Janet was appalled at the sight of the carts filled with massive qualities of food, beverages, and toys, generally pushed by massive Americans. But what most stunned her was the smell. Let’s just say that some of the shoppers were less than hygienic. BTW, if you the reader are a Walmart shopper, I am sure this description does not describe you.

But back to my birthday present. We hit the mall this past weekend and fortunately there are still tons of after holiday sales. So we shopped at a store more appropriate to my elderly outdoorsman style (Eddie Bauer). Janet was again appalled – this time by the prices. But fortunately there were big discounts and I went away with a nice pair of pants and a couple pairs of socks for a reasonable price. What was so different was how excited Janet was to see me in my new pants. She insisted on going with me in the dressing room to try them on, insisted on grabbing my loboot while in there, and then insisted that I wear the pants the next day. She bragged to friends about how good I looked in the pants she had purchased and I got a kick out of seeing her excitement. And she was right; I did look good in my new Eddie Bauer pants, almost good enough to climb a mountain or go hiking, or at least walk around the campus at work.

So as usual I started out trying to find a way to make Christmas a happier time for Janet and she made is a much happier time for me!