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Dave’s Tips For a Successful Fil-Am Marriage – Volume 1

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It recently occurred to Janet and I that we are approaching our 2nd anniversary. This blog was originally dedicated to describing the joys of a newly-wedded Fil-Am couple. At almost 2 years I may have to change the focus to a mature and experienced Fil-Am couple; cranky even (OK, that’s just the male half of the couple).

In addition, in my previous forays into marriage I visited many couples therapists. Usually these pleasant engagements occurred when my ex would sweetly say, “honey – go with me to therapy or get the hell out!”

I counted the other day (this is how exciting my daily life is) and came up with six different couples therapists I have seen, though fortunately none with Janet. In addition, there was the couples therapy group I was a member of for several years. Of the eight couples that worked successfully together to improve their marital lives, I am pretty sure that one or two pairs are still married.

The point of all this is that clearly I am now an expert in the area of Fil-Am marriage (and marriage in general) and so finally feel capable of dispensing “Dave’s Tips For a Successful Fil-Am Marriage.” Read it at your own risk. You have been warned!

1. Learn to speak her language: No, I am not talking about learning Tagalog or Visayan, though that’s not a bad idea and I know one or two guys who have actually learned to speak Filipino well enough to not be laughed at throughout the Philippines.

Me? Janet has taught me the Visayan words for all the body parts (or at least the good ones) as well as a few intimate acts. When Janet told her mother what she had taught me her mother yelled, “Why would you teach him that!” Because it’s fun – that’s why. At age 62 I now get to talk dirty in a new language and am having a blast.

But actually what I meant when I said you should learn her language – is English. English, you ask? That’s what we Americans and Canadians and British and Australians speak. That’s the language our Filipina brides ought to learn better. That’s the language we, as native speakers, ought to be teaching our Filipina brides. Wrong!!

Don’t kid yourself: it’s not your responsibility to teach her English. It’s your responsibility to learn her English! Think you’re gonna get her to stop using terms like “nosebleed,” or “open/shut the light?” Nor could I ever get Janet to stop calling me “Sir Dave.” Come to think about it why would I want her to stop 🙂

Despite the fluency of many Filipinas, English can be tricky. Lately, Janet’s gotten into baking. The other day she asked if she could find “coqua” here. She described it as a chocolate baking powder. I assured her that chocolate baking powder was easy to get but I didn’t know about coqua. “I’ll look it up. How do you spell it?”

“Cocoa,” she answered.

“Oh, you mean cocoa.”

“No, coqua.”

“Don’t worry. We can get some Hershey’s coqua at the store.”

So bone up on your Filipino English, guys. You’re gonna need it.

2. Find the best place for lechon: There’s the old adage “a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” In this case your silo of a stomach is irrelevant. You’re a kano; you can eat whatever crap kanos eat. But she will miss all of her native foods.

Before Janet arrived I thought I had done the right thing. I’d bought a rice cooker, and a good one at that, and scoped out several Asian markets and a Filipino restaurant. ‘That should do it,’ I thought. Wrong! Despite the stereotype that they are poor Filipinas who mostly subsist on rice, and only white rice at that, her palate is as varied as yours; for example, sometimes KFC will do and other times is has to be Popeyes 🙂

But seriously, just as if you lived abroad you might miss a New York steak, your fave gouda, or if you’re me, Kraft Mac and Cheese, she will miss all her favorites. Sometimes you will look everywhere and find something and declare “Eureka! I found it,” only to be told that that brand isn’t very good. Janet has been trying to find a good chicharon (pork rinds) for 2 years with no success. Sure we can find chicharon but not the good stuff. BTW, for those really interested, Carcar is the chicharon capital of the Philippines, so if you want the good stuff it’s only 8000 miles (and a 2 hour drive south of Cebu City) away.

BTW, for those really interested, Carcar is the chicharon capital of the Philippines, so if you want the good stuff it’s only 8000 miles (and a 2 hour drive south of Cebu City) away.

You can include leafy greens such as kale, collard greens, turnip greens, spinach levitra prescription and roman lettuce in your daily diet. http://cute-n-tiny.com/tag/monkey/ commander levitra These symptoms may appear for months or years. In the midst of all this male levitra online cheap thing, our hair starts to drop out and, almost without exception, we start to go bald. It cheapest viagra in australia has a user-friendly website (you will find the link below) and with a few clicks of your mouse button. Sometimes it’s the simplest things. When we first arrived Janet wanted corned beef. No problem, I told her, and picked up a can of Hormel’s. “Yuck,” she said. “This is not corned beef.” “It says corned beef and it’s made by Hormel, the king of junk meat,” I replied.

All the Asian stores we have been to do not carry real Philippines corned beef and Janet has been missing it. But then a miracle happened. A couple weeks ago for her birthday a friend brought Janet a couple of tins of corned beef. A certain amount of begging was required to get the friend to reveal her special source. These are the sorts of things you must do to keep your wife happy and avoid the couples therapist, who wouldn’t know where Filipino corned beef can be gotten anyway.

3. Get to know (and like) the family: I know, I know. You married her, not her family. You have enough troubles dealing with your own family and if you’re like me you deliberately live thousands of miles away from your ancestral home and return rarely. And of course you and your bride live many thousands of miles away from the Philippines. And even if you two eventually decide to live in the Philippines, you will heed the words of many wise expats and live two islands away from the family; that’ll keep you from having to deal with them. Umm – not quite!

Janet has nine brothers and sisters and while it’s taken two years of intensive study, I now know all their names and pretty much know who is who. Since I am told about them in intimate detail, I figured I might as well learn to accept that fact. So should you.

But if you’re fool enough to listen to me, you ought to take it a step further – get to know the family and like them.

We’ve returned each year to Janet’s hometown in Alcoy and frankly the family, while happy to see Janet, seems fascinated to see me. Actually, they seem most fascinated that I am interested in them and wish in some small way to be part of them. As I’ve detailed before, the kids are shy, but watch what I do like a hawk.

I suppose when it comes to the family, the greatest fear on the part of many husbands of Filipinas is financial. We hear horror stories and figure the easiest way to not have our cash parted from us, until we’re cold and dead,  is to stay far from the family.

While I suppose it’s a risk, I just don’t agree. Get to know her family, her friends.  Soon they will spill the beans on your bride and tell you everything imaginable. You want to know everything don’t you? No? Then why did you marry a Pinay?

And if someone asks for money (that you don’t have or don’t wish to give), describing in their best English what they need the money for – tell ’em you’re having a nosebleed.

Tip of the Day: If you’re visiting or moving to the Philippines and are worried that everyone will think you are the aforementioned rich kano – well, you’re right. Every cousin, hell even lolo, is on Facebook. They know the car you drive, the clothes you wear, the square footage of your house, what version of iPhone you have, etc. Why? Because you are an idiot and post all these things!

So what’s my tip? Think Jed Clampett. Remember the Beverly Hillbillies, where Jed had something like $60 million, back in the day when $60 mil was real money? Did he drive a Mercedes, dress in Armani, and post it all on FB? Nope. Here’s how he rolled. Do the same and you won’t be considered the rich kano. Or, only somewhat rich 🙂

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Why Do Ladyboys Firedance in Boracay?

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As I mentioned in a previous posting, after initially deciding not to go to Boracay, Janet and I changed our schedule and spent five days in the most popular tourist beach in the Philippines.

Boracay has a lot of pluses: a long, white beach; island hopping and snorkeling; decent restaurants and hotels; dinner served on the beach; nightly free entertainment; massage places every ten feet. You can eat and drink yourself to exhaustion (and I did).

After 5:30PM the beach is magically transformed into the Philippines largest and longest restaurant. Each restaurant and hotel gets a strip of beach and sets up tables. Cute Pinays call to you as you walk by to check out the menu or buffet. All you can eat buffets line the beach; you can typically eat all you want for $10 or less and many sell two drinks for the price of one.

Each night two of my strongest characteristics clashed; my fundamentally lightweight drinking vs. my cheap-assed love of the bargain. The latter generally won and my standard one San Miguel became two. Most of the buffets served lechon and Janet was overwhelmed by the notion of unlimited lechon, a concept far removed from her upbringing, where lechon is a prized treat only served on very special occasions.

organic_lechon_Boracay

As you can see from the photo, one buffet advertised “organic lechon.” When I asked what made the pig in question organic, I was told that it was fed vegetables. Sounds organic to me 🙂 Janet actually said that it tasted different from standard lechon, but that didn’t stop her from going back for seconds.

As darkness set in and the tables filled with patrons, the music and entertainment began. The Philippines, known as one of the karaoke capitals of the world, where romantic 70s music is revered as if brand new, is also a hotbed of very talented singers and musicians. Go to most Asian cities and you will see imported Filipino musicians. On the beach in Boracay the musicians were plentiful and of good quality; that is if you’re an old fart like me and want to hear the tunes of yesteryear.

But in addition, bands of fire dancers entertained and generally brought in bigger crowds than the singers. The fire dancers in the Philippines are almost always ladyboys. I asked Janet why most fire dancers are ladyboys and got what would in the West be a politically incorrect answer; something about their loose limbed style of movement.

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For that matter the moniker, ladyboy, would be highly incorrect here, yet the term is pervasive in Asia. Considering the Philippines is a conservative and Catholic culture, ladyboys, and indeed all manner of “alternative” cultures are accepted and enjoyed in the Philippines.  I am not saying that they are as accepting as we aspire to be in the West, but I suspect that they are more accepting than we actually are.

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—–

I really love snorkeling and so island hopping is something that I look forward to when I come to the Philippines. Because I had injured my finger the first day we arrived and the doctor that patched me up discouraged me from getting into the ocean for a week, Boracay was my first opportunity to snorkel.

You can hop on a boat with a bunch of other people or find a private boat, which is what Janet and I did. The prices are reasonable and in my experience the vendors do not conform to US laws; that is price fixing is the norm. I actually found the system to be a little bit different from when I was in Bora 3 years ago. I didn’t pay the boat; I was led to a table where I paid and was given an actual, real life, no shit receipt, after which we were taken to the boat.

The snorkeling was fun if not spectacular. I think the most fun was that after I climbed back on the boat after a tiring dive, I saw a man in a small kayak paddling toward the snorkeling boats. Who says Filipinos aren’t creative business people? The man rowed to each boat yelling “ice cream.” He had a cooler in the boat. Now if only he’d had a cooler filled with San Miguels.

One of the biggest negatives in Boracay is the price of hotels. I guess most tourists want a fancy hotel and room with all the amenities. If you need this you’re going to pay. Janet and I are too cheap for such luxury. I want a decent bed, aircon (it was April, which is summer in the Philippines) and a shower with decent pressure and warm water.

So, for the second time I stayed at the Island Jewel Inn. The room is the size of a postage stamp but it has all the amenities we want. It’s not right on the beach (maybe 200 feet away) and best of all it’s located in Station 3, which is a 10 minute walk away from party central and consequently a place you can actually sleep. Actually, best of all is that at $50/night, it met our cheap-assed traveling budget.

Another improvement I noticed since three years ago is the process of transferring to Boracay. It’s still mass insanity but there is now a sense of organized insanity. Here’s how it works: you fly into Caticlan, take a car/van ride (just a few minutes) to a ferry, take the ferry to Boracay, and then a van from the ferry station to your hotel. Almost everyone sets up the transfer in advance. The transfer company grabs you right off the plane and tags your shirt like you’re a new student in the first grade. Hundreds of people are thrown into vans, then various ferries, and then onto other vans for the ride to your hotel. Only in the Philippines could such an insane system actually work.  The price was not horrible, although every porter along the way wanted a tip. It ended up being easier just to grab our own bags.

Overall Janet loved Boracay, but after 5 days we’d both had enough and were anxious to get back to something that resembled the real Philippines. More on that with my next installment.

One more positive regarding Boracay. Before our trip I had scheduled my annual physical for the week we arrived home. When we got home I was worried. After all, I spent three weeks eating and drinking. I am a lightweight drinker and literally had more beer than I have ever consumed. I figured my blood work would be through the roof. Imagine my surprise when the tests came back with my cholesterol down and the doctor saying “whatever you’re doing, keep it up.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her that what I was doing was eating pork, drinking like a fish and chasing my young wife 🙂

 

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“When in Rome” Don’t be a Kano with your Cash

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Here’s a bit of a tip that it’s taken me 7 or 8 trips to the Philippines to start to understand.

A few weeks ago we’re in Camiguin at Ardent Hot Springs. BTW, the Ardent pools are very nicely done and the cost of entry is cheap. The water is not hot – it’s bathtub warm, but do you really want 110 degree water during the summer in the Philippines?

So I am lazing in the hotspring and struck up a conversation with an Aussie of my age and his Filipina partner. Not sure if they were married or not and not sure that it matters.

Anyway, the conversation was about cash, retirement and cost differences between the Philippines and our home countries. His partner chimed in that the biggest mistake that “foreigners” make was that we too often “convert” to our own currency.

My first thought was to disagree. I am very good at math and grew up in an era where I actually learned to multiply and divide in my head without electronic assistance. Therefore, whenever I travel internationally I always quickly determine costs based on the almighty US Dollar.

But my new friend disagreed, stating that you must consider costs in pesos not dollars. I remembered a story I have told before about how Janet and I once argued about an overcharged taxi fare in Dumaguete and how I resolved that argument by saying, “Do you realize we are arguing about a fare that cost us $6.”

But now I have come to see the woman’s point and agree with it. If something normally costs 100 pesos you should not pay 300 pesos, despite the fact that from a USD standpoint the difference is tiny.

In other words, stop being a tourist and act like a Filipino, particularly if you want Filipinos not to treat you like a rich tourist.

Tips are a good place to start. I am old enough to recall a time in the US when tips at restaurants were based on good service, not on a set percentage of 15 or 20%. It is still that way in the Philippines. While I won’t tell you, dear reader, what kind of tip to give, I give a Philippines-appropriate tip.

Janet is particularly pointed in this regard. If the service is good she wants to make sure I gave the person a few pesos. If the service is poor she will ask me afterwards, “Did you give her a tip?” If my answer is yes, I get “the look!”
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Many goods and services are negotiable in the Philippines. Hell, it’s almost insulting if you don’t negotiate. I usually throw out some kind of stupid line like “Is that your best price?” The price usually goes down without much argument. Do not feel that because the price is less than you would pay in your home country, that you are taking advantage of anyone. You are not! On the contrary, you are supporting them.

For example, like most old farts I like a massage once in a while. But I am too damn cheap to pay $60 – 100 for a massage in my home city. But it’s one of the things I look forward to in the Philippines, where even in a tourist trap like Boracay, a massage is $10 or less. Oops there I go again. Massages in Boracay are typically 350-500 pesos.

The first night we were in Boracay, I walked the boardwalk area and looked at massage prices. In general, the massage places on the beach are cheaper than the ones in spas by about 100 pesos. The next day I returned. As I say, since I am basically cheap, I was going to have one of the beach massages. But Janet and I passed a spa that looked very nice. I looked at the menu of prices. Massage – 550 pesos. I frowned and that’s all it took. The woman in charge noticed  my reaction and immediate said, “discount for you, sir. 400 pesos.” Sold! I asked whether they also did nails, since Janet wanted her nails done. Yes, I was told. “What’s your best price?” I asked. The price was magically reduced. Janet and I were led to a very pleasant room where we both lay on adjacent beds. I received a massage and Janet had her nails done. I spent an hour moaning while Janet laughed at me and spoke Visayan to the girl doing her nails. It was very pleasant, particularly since we paid an appropriate amount. The service was excellent and we tipped the women accordingly.

This concept of not converting currencies is not just applicable to inexpensive service items, like taxis or massages. It applies to everything. The housing market in my home town is pretty hot again. My buddy just bought a place and proudly announced that he’d gotten it by paying 15k more than the asking price. It’s great for him and his family, so don’t get me wrong.

OTOH, don’t do this in the Philippines, where the asking price for real estate is often an opening offer, no more valid than the 550 pesos that massage was supposed to cost.

Last year while we were in Alcoy, we stumbled across a very nice house for sale. The owner invited us in. Why not? We got the nickel tour and the place was in fact very nice. Out of politeness and curiosity I asked “how much?” “Six and 1/2 million pesos – firm,” I was told. “What about for cash?” I asked. “Oh for cash – six million.” Firm is apparently a fluid concept in the Philippines.

We left the house and I mistakenly gave the woman my local number. She assumed I was a real buyer and I got texts from her daily. It became annoying. Finally Janet laughed and said, “Just offer her 5 million.” I texted her back, “Sorry, but my wife says our budget is only 5 million.” I figured that would shut the woman up. Wrong! In less than five minutes I got a response, “We will accept 5 million, sir.”

So, think in pesos not dollars and remember, the price ain’t the price, and firm rarely is.

But also remember – that 5 million peso house sounds like a great deal, but only if the woman actually owns the house – another problem to consider in the Philippines.

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Bits and Pieces from Our Philippines Adventure

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We just got back from our three week vacation to the Philippines and now that I am sort of un-jet lagged, here are some random thoughts. Expect more in depth and profound ramblings, pics and videos later (if ever).

Philippines Weight Loss Program:

Like most Americans on vacation, Janet and I ate like pigs. Particularly in Boracay, which I will cover in a future post, all you can eat dinner buffets are held on the beach with a typical charge of less than $10 and include two San Miguels for the price of one. I ate and drank till I could barely walk back to the hotel.

Yet after a week or two Janet kept saying, “you’re losing weight.” I had to agree. The money belt was getting looser and not just because I was removing money from it.

I got home and sure enough – I was about 4 pounds down. This despite the fact that I am a lightweight drinker, yet drank more beer than I have ever drunk in my life, ate mass quantities, including eggs nearly every morning, and had plenty of ice cream (it’s cooling in the heat after all).

I have to assume that the reasons for my loses involved more activity, lots more sweating, more fun and less stress. Oh and there’s the fact that I didn’t spend 8 hours a day in a cubicle – that might have helped. And all this despite the fact that the Filipino diet is not considered the healthiest going, what with tons of rice and lots of pork and yummy barbecue.

Nonetheless I see a book in my future. Perhaps I’ll become one of those dieting tour operators.

My Inlaws Protect Me:

I hate the expat argument about dumb Filipinos and have written about that before. Dumb expats – there are plenty. Dumb inlaws – don’t kid yourself. Wherever we went Janet’s younger siblings watched everything I did.

Alcoy is a small beach town of 15,000. Public transportation, in the form of trikes, are everywhere. The trikes are regulated and have a sticker inside listing the rates: 8 pesos/person here, 10 pesos there, etc. Let’s just say it’s a damn cheap if uncomfortable way to travel. In fact the kids take a trike daily to go to school. Why not, I took a bus.

So everywhere we went Janet and I and whatever siblings we were with would pile into a trike. One thing you’re not getting is safety. Janet and I would get into the trike sidecar and a kid would hop on the motorcycle behind the driver. And BTW, no one wears helmets.

As a lazy traveler, at the end of a ride I would simply ask Janet how much to give the driver. “40 pesos,” she might say. I would give him a 50, thank him and walk away.

The next day the kids told Janet’s mom, “Uncle Dave was overpaying for the trikes and didn’t even ask for change!” What Janet hadn’t taken into account was that the rate for children was less than an adult and that 40 peso fee might have actually been negotiated down to 30. Janet’s mom assured them that Uncle Dave was merely giving the driver a tip. BTW, the 10 peso “tip” was equivalent to $.25. I’m nothing if not a big tipper.

Nonetheless I appreciated their concern regarding my money and told my young BIL that the next time I was in Alcoy I was gonna make him my business manager, in charge of determining what was proper to pay.

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Even before discovering the Philippines I had done a bit of international traveling. Trying to be safe (or at least fooling myself into believing I am acting safe) I travel with a Pacsafe wallet, one of those travel wallets with a chain. I also have a travel belt. It’s a simple thing with a hidden zippered compartment where you can stash your vast kano wealth.  It’s always funny because I get off the plane and while in the airport immediately go to a money exchange kiosk. The clerk watches in amusement as I remove my belt and take out the hundies that are all scrunched up in the belt. Unfortunately in the Philippines you never get more than 1000 peso notes (about $25). Anything more is unusable in the real world. So let’s say you stuffed 10 hundreds in your belt. You now have 40 1000 peso notes and  after you place them in the same belt you end up looking like the Michelin Man.

Here’s what was funny on this trip. When we arrived in Janet’s home town of Alcoy, several of her younger siblings asked if they could spend a night with us at the legendary BBB (Bodos Bamboo Bar). It’s a small resort, which in provincial Philippines means it’s a series of native bamboo cottages. It’s actually nice, the restaurant’s decent and we enjoy staying there; but the Hilton it ain’t. But for Janet’s siblings – it’s another world – and a world of luxury.

Janet’s younger brother stayed with us one night. The next morning I showered, dressed and did the general morning routine. I unlocked the room safe and removed my travel belt. My BIL watched me do that but did not see me remove a few 1000 peso notes from the belt. I replaced the belt back in the safe and locked it.

The next day Janet told me that her brother said to their mom in Visayan, “Uncle Dave has a really expensive belt. He keeps it locked in a safe!”

LV Bag Shopping:

The last day of our 3-week trip was spent traveling by bus from Alcoy back to Cebu. We checked into our hotel and had a quick lunch. It was now 1:00 and truth be told I was exhausted and would have happily rested and gotten ready for the early morning flight home. But I knew that wasn’t gonna fly.

We had a half day to hit a mall in Cebu and I could not let Janet miss such an opportunity. So we grabbed a taxi and went for a quick mall shopping excursion. BTW, I don’t think it’s my imagination but the traffic in Cebu is worse than ever. We crawled along.

Janet normally loves Ayala Mall, but as we passed Parkmall Janet told the driver to take us there. Janet quickly scored quite a few inexpensive and nice clothing items.

We went up to the second floor of the mall which is set up bazar style. Dozens of tiny shops filled with fake clothes, Nikes, watches – and bags. To my untrained eye these looked like pretty nice fakes. It’s well known that often fakes are made in the very same Asian factories that produce the real thing. As an Oregonian, headquarters to Nike, and it’s subsidiary, the University of Oregon (lol), I had always wondered how poor Filipinos could afford expensive Nikes. OK, I’m an idiot – now I know how.

Janet hit every shop but saw nothing she wanted. Surely, I suggested, a high end bag was in order. My ever practical wife reluctantly agreed. She entered a shop which was LV Bag Central, with more LV bag options than a real LV store. I think she was handed every single one by the two eager sales clerks who knew a rich kano trying to satisfy his wife when they saw one 🙂

Finally Janet settled on the one she liked. “How much,” I asked. “4500 pesos,” I was told. “No way.” “2500 pesos,” she said. I scowled. We settled on 2000 pesos – about $45. Janet went away very happy and I went away relieved. I also had a plan.

Recently I wrote a blog piece about jealousy. Among other things I talked about what happens when a Pinay posts pics of an expensive acquisition on Facebook. So we went right back to our hotel and I took pics of Janet’s latest present and posted them. But I did include a note which said, “To finish our trip off in style Janet deserved a special present. I had to use all my negotiating skills to get it down to 2000 – pesos, that is 🙂

I was amazed that many of our friends didn’t get the joke and really assumed Janet had scored the real thing. Clearly my friends don’t know me as well as they should 🙂

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First Experience With Health Care in Philippines

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First, let’s start with the basics: I’ve never had a stitch in my life. Never broken a bone. At 62, I’m pure and pristine.

I’m an amateur guitar maker and have sliced myself with chisels, knives and a saw or two. I cleaned up the blood, patched myself and moved on.

Endulge me me while I make a non-Philippines aside. Skip it if you want; but you’ll regret it.

It’s a guy thing, this pretending not to be hurt. I knew a carpenter who years ago apprenticed with an old school craftsman. The old guy was from Sweden as I recall. Had a garage day shop. Completely old  school he didn’t even own a phone. But a bandsaw he had.

One day working, that bandsaw sliced off a small tip of his finger. Not one to waste a day he wrapped the finger tight, dropped the tip in his shirt pocket and finished his day.

His routine was the same daily. He walked from the garage to his house, took off his clothes and climbed into the shower. While showering his saint of a wife grabbed his dirty clothes. She did the same this day. The finger tip fell out of his shirt pocket. She screamed, fainted, and struck her head unconscious.

Panicked, the old guy knew an ambulance was needed. Course he had no phone. Naked and wet he ran next door to beg for a phone.

Ok, I’m not this bad. Yesterday we arrived in Cebu. Jetlagged and exhausted I attempted to open a new spray bottle of sunscreen. Usually scissors are used to cut the plastic ring. Damn no scissors. But then I remembered that I had brought a nice Kershaw knife to give as a passalubong (present) to my father in law. I dug it out of my suitcase to break the ring.

You can imagine the rest. Janet yelled at me “don’t do it that way” as the knife slipped. I can now tell you from personal experience  – Kershaw makes a fine blade.

We actually got the bleeding to stop and wrapped a couple band aids around it and went to breakfast. But I was nervous. At 62 cuts don’t heal like when I was young if they heal at all.

So reluctanly we went to the hotel front desk and inquired about a doctor. Turns out the hotel has an onsite nurse. The young man examined my cut, cleaned and re-bandaged it professionally, made chit chat about how long we’d been married and whether we had any kids. In the end he pronounced, “you’re gonna need stitches,”
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Total cost for the nursing care including tip: 50 pesos ($1.20) .

We grabbed a taxi for the bumper to bumper 30 minute ride to Cebu. Janet, ever the practical wife, asked the driver to take us to the hospital nearest to Ayala Mall. Janet loves Ayala Mall .

We went into the emergency room at Cebu Succour Perpetual. Within minutes of taking my sordid story I was in a room with an actual doctor.  Ok, the guy looked 20 but his ID said he was a doc. And hell, since I’m told that Janet looks inappropriately young, how can I complain.

I told the doc my story again and added that I have never had a stitch in my life, “and I’m 62,” I added dramatically.

“I don’t think you need stitches,” he replied after examining the wound. “A special bandage is cheaper.”

I gave him a look which said, “I am a  rich Kano. I don’t need the cheapest treatment.”

“It’s quicker and will heal faster.” Sold! A tetanus shot was also required, as were scripts for a couple of meds.

We were out in a half hour. Total cost for the excellent service: $9. Ok, the meds at a pharmacy were $30 more.

But all in all a great experience  but one which I will never live down. OTOH I’m still stitchless and perfect lol!

 

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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, naĂŻve 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 fiancĂ© 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.

 

 

 

 

Humorous, irreverent, occasionally informative look at a no longer newly wedded Fil-Am couple