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Corona Times and the Philippines

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Every country in the world is dealing with the Coronavirus in different ways. Here in the Philippines, the concern is just as intense as it is in most other countries, but as a developing nation the impact is different, as are people’s needs and behaviour.

By the numbers: As of yesterday’s count there are 202 reported cases in the Philippines and 17 deaths. Dumaguete had a death last week and that sent the city into panic mode – at least a bit.

Response: Manila is in complete lockdown. Originally, Pres. Duterte announced nothing would go in and out of Manila. This caused general panic in the country, since most goods are distributed through Manila. Panic buying hit Dumaguete: rice, hand sanitizer and masks, though not toilet paper. The government quickly amended the statement, saying the lockdown did not include commercial goods, which could be shipped in and out of Manila. This calmed things a bit.

Most every island and province has established curfews and general lock down. With 7100 islands the Philippines is completely dependent on its ferry system to get people from one island to another. No longer. Most ferrys are shut down. From Dumaguete, unless you can swim really, really well, you aren’t getting to Cebu. Flights are no better.

Now, the government did clarify that tourists wanting to leave the country would be accommodated, but the process seems to change on a daily basis.

General Impressions: Here’s what I have observed in Dumaguete, in no order of importance, over the last week or so.

Work goes on: The Philippines is a cash society. People need cash and need it daily to eat. Therefore as much as possible, work goes on. Trikes and jeepneys give passengers rides, construction workers continue to work, many (though not all) restaurants are still open, banks are open, the malls are open. Many of these businesses have shortened their hours but most continue to operate.

Starbucks: This morning Janet and I went to our bank to do some business; there’s only so much you can do online here; meaning almost nothing. Afterwards, we traveled along the boulevard. The restaurants were open but activity was modest. Finally I said, “I’m almost out of coffee beans, let’s stop in Starbucks to get a bag.” There was not a single person in Starbucks and they were very happy to see me and sell me a bag of coffee. Dumaguete’s Starbucks is usually packed from morning to night, but not now. It’s a good time to get an overpriced latte.

Social Distancing: Since we had to go out anyway, we took care of all our cash business; paying the electric and water bill, as well as the banking and the aforementioned necessary Starbucks run. All those entities had their chairs, which in the past were close together for maximum squeezability, arranged far apart. Some places took and returned money using a basket instead of possibly unclean hands. All government entities, banks and some businesses require face masks, but once you enter you find that half the employees are not wearing them. It’s tough for me. Hard enough for Filipinos to understand my American English; now impossible as I mumble through a mask.

Police Checkpoints: Dumaguete and its surrounding areas have lots of police checkpoints where they usually search motorcycle riders, trying to catch the bad guys. That’s changed completely. Oh there are still many checkpoints (perhaps more than before) but they are all for checking the temperature of each driver and rider. Everyone is pretty good natured about it and both Janet and I thanked the police because, let’s face it, it’s a potentially dangerous and thankless assignment.

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Police Station: Speaking of the police, yesterday Janet and I needed to go to the Dumaguete police Station to report a “harrassment incident.” It’s not something that I’m prepared to write about now in detail and we’re fine, but it was an interesting experience.

I certainly believe that one of the problems that is ramping up with our needed isolation is that some people will begin to crack up. Hell, Janet and I have seen some of that in ourselves. So this was an incident in which someone was acting out and it seemed reasonable to report it.

The police were professional. There was a rope separating me from the desk cop, requiring me to nearly yell at him through my mask to describe the incident.

The policeman took my reported incident seriously and advised me as to what to do to protect ourselves if it happened again. In the end I had to sign the report, meaning that I had to break protocol and come over to sign. But overall he was helpful and cool, qualities we are going to need in the times ahead.

Outdoors Activities: The good news is that we live in a tropical country and are not pent up in homes in cold areas of the Western world. So Janet goes outside and gardens. I go back to my shop to do a little work. We both like to take a walk around the neighbourhood. In short, we still can do most of the things we like to do, but the feeling is far different.

OTOH, gyms here are closed, as are Janet’s fave badminton courts. I haven’t checked out the local pools, but fortunately there’s an ocean to swim in and that ain’t gonna close – I hope.

Speaking of outdoors activities, I play golf Wednesdays with a group of friends. We played 18 holes yesterday. Now before anyone thinks we are doing a bad thing I should tell you that the course where we play, typically has no more than 3-4 groups on it at any given time, meaning that over a 75 acre layout there might be 10-12 people. We felt safe and took a picture which we posted to demonstrate our positive attitude.

In short, there are things you can do to keep life sort of normal, if you’re creative about it. I’ve been practicing my chipping in the back yard. I’m still no better at it but feel good. I wonder what the chances are that I can get Phil Mickelson to come here and give me a lesson?You’re gonna have a tough time getting in, Phil, but the courses are wide open!

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My Life as a Philippines Luthier

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Here’s an aspect of my life in the Philippines that for whatever strange reason I haven’t blogged much about and a story about how my retirement plan changed. Twenty five years ago I embarked on an obsession to become an amateur or semi-professional luthier. BTW for those who don’t know, luthier means stringed instrument maker.

For five or six years I was insane. My children were very young and my routine was the same 7-days a week, 365 days a year. I put the kids to bed, doing the story reading thing, put my wife to bed, and then went downstairs to unwind. That generally took an hour. After that I went down into the basement where I had a tiny, insect ridden shop and built guitars. I was in my 40s and had enough energy to go until 1:00 or 2:00 in the morning before going to bed, getting up at 6:00 to get the kids ready and going to work. I loved making guitars.

But when I began, my then wife said, “We have a baby. You can’t make noise or dust.” “No worries, “I replied. “I’ll do it with hand tools.” And so began my second obsession – to make guitars solely with hand tools.

As the kids got older and the marriage got rockier, my obsession waned. Actually that’s not true; I still had the obsession just not the time or energy to make it all happen. So I eventually stopped making guitars. By my 50s when asked I would say, “when I retire I’ll get back to it.” That’s what I told Janet for years. The tiny shop and all the tools sat in our Portland basement but I rarely did much, other than clean and sharpen tools and remind myself that I would get back to my obsession someday.

About a year before I actually retired, Janet asked me why I was waiting for my actual retirement; why not start now. It was like I was being given permission to get back into my love; and so I did. I assembled a guitar that had been sitting in pieces for ten years. I refinished two other guitars via an ancient process called French Polishing – another of my obsessions.

By then it was time to pack, sell the house and move to the Philippines. But at least I knew what I was going to do. Or did I?

Once we were settled in a rental house in Valencia and the balikbayan boxes with my tools and materials arrived I got back to work. I started building a new guitar for the first time in many years. And then fate would kick in. Via Facebook people in Dumaguete began to find out that I was a luthier. One day a guy contacted me. His guitar wasn’t properly set up and could I look at it and see what I could do. He came over, I improved the instrument’s action a little bit, and off he went. And then it happened again on Facebook and again. I came to realise that not only was there almost no one in Dumaguete capable of doing basic repairs and instrument setups, but outside of Manila there is hardly anyone in the Philippines. Today people all over the country contact me.

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I created a facebook page and called my little endeavour, Dumaguete Guitar Works. By all means take a look and tell me what you think; and “like” it, of course.

My goal was not just to help “rich” foreigners but to serve the community with a service that Filipino musicians could afford. Therefore my services are a small fraction of what similar services in the U.S. would cost.

Now that our house is built, as I’ve blogged to death about, I spend much of my time in my shop, located in the back of our lot, under a huge and cooling mango tree. It’s the best shop space I have ever had. My old hand tools have proper places, and I have three work benches so I can readily work on multiple instruments.

The best part is that it’s all a great challenge, good for the ageing brain. People bring in instruments that I’ve never worked on and sometimes have problems I’ve never encountered or even thought about. I’ve managed to save a few guitars that were too broken to be used.

Some of my friends ask if I’m doing this as a business to make money. I’m really not. Not meaning to brag but I’m a retiree and don’t need the income. But it feels good. Recently a Filipino customer gave me a 50P tip. His appreciation felt very cool. With my newfound “obsession” I have a few extra pesos in my pocket and take Janet to lunch – or buy myself another tool!

A happy player!
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The Hash Brown Crisis

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I’ve written about it before. Contrary to popular believe, I have been able to get most everything I want in the Philippines. Even obscure items or items whose existence has no logic here – I’ve found them. Now often you have to do some digging. The first time I was in Robinsons I was shocked by the sight of Philly Cream Cheese. ‘What the hell do they have Philly for here in the Philippines – the bagels and lox?’ But they do and while it is sometimes “Out of stock,” when it’s there I buy a couple tubs.

Speaking of my ethnic foods, Robinsons also has Challah bread and it’s damn good. I don’t question the reason they have it, I just enjoy it.

Most hardware stores have cheap Chinese-made tools and often that’s good enough. But my fave hardware store, Rejoice, has a row of Klein tools. Klein is a US brand and arguably the best in the world at what they make. ‘What the hell are they doing with $50 pliers in the Philippines,’ I wonder. Don’t know but they’re there.

As a guitar maker and repair person I can get just about any part or tool I need from Lazada or Shopee, delivered to my doorstep and cheap. I order American brand vitamins, and my favourite cologne. You may have to do some searching but it’s mostly all available.

And once in a while when I really want something that’s a bit more high end or specialised I order it from the US or UK or Australia. It’s not tough.

But recently and for the first time since we’ve been here, Janet and I have been depressed because we couldn’t get something important to us – hash browns.

I got addicted to hash browns the last couple years of my employment. Approaching retirement, I had started going in to work early, so I could leave early, and began eating breakfast at the cafeteria. Eggs and hash browns were my favourites.

At some point I got Janet hooked as well. When we moved here I was pleasantly surprised to see Carnation hash browns at Hypermart. For joy for joy! When Hypermart was out of stock, Robinsons had them in stock. For two and a half years that has been our routine; a couple packs of hash browns a week and Janet and I had breakfast together.

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But then 3 weeks ago Hypermart was “out of stock.” We went to Robinsons. They were “out of stock” too. We weren’t too concerned. But a week went by and they weren’t at either store. No more happy breakfast with Janet; just grumbling. “I miss hash browns,” we’d cry.

Janet, being a fine cook and wonderful person said, “I can make them I’m sure.” “Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be back soon.” But they haven’t been. Life is not good.

Yesterday we were desperate enough that we actually asked a Manager at Robinsons when they’d be coming in. She just did a song and dance about waiting for orders from Manila. We knew it was BS, but we clung to the hope.

We’re like addicts missing our drug of choice. Hell we’d even buy the cheaper Robinsons brand of hash browns, but they’re out of stock too.

I may have to start getting breakfast at McDos and buying that crusty piece of shit they call a hash brown. Lord, spare me from that degradation!

So I walk around our lot depressed. My shop no longer excites me. I yell at the dog. My morning eggs sit on their plate and look lonely. I’m getting desperate. I may have to buy some potatoes and learn to make the damn things myself.

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PhilPost, Ninja Turtles and shipping yourself crap

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Today’s blog post won’t be quite as exciting and controversial as a couple of recent offerings, but it’s an important one to me.

Before I moved to PI I was told consistently that shipping to the Philippines was a losing proposition. Packages took forever to receive, they got lost or damaged, and customs charges were terrible.

As a person who had weened himself away from the malls in the US, replacing those experiences with online shopping, I wondered how I would end up surviving.

PhilPost:

So, for the first few months here I ordered nothing. If I couldn’t find something I needed in a local Dumaguete store, I bought a substitute or nothing. But after a few months I needed guitar strings and took the plunge, ordering from my two favourite US string etailers. Shipping charges weren’t too bad and 4 weeks later I had both boxes in my hot little hands.

From there I went crazy. I ordered stuff small and large, dirt cheap and somewhat expensive. I ordered stuff that was break proof and other things that were more fragile. I ordered from the US, UK, Canada, Australia, China, etc. I ordered off of eBay, AliExpress, and directly from vendors.

Here, for what it’s worth, are some observations. If the vendor ships via a postal service (USPS, Royal Mail, etc.) it will be handed off to PhilPost once it clears customs in Manila. Packages seem to go through customs in anywhere between a few days and over a week. From Manila the package is sent to Dumaguete and from Duma to the Valencia Post Office. I think the Duma to Valencia trip adds as much as an extra week.

Once in Valencia, I get a message from my “text mate” at the Post Office and pick up the package. At the PO the charge is 112P (a little over $2). The charge is the same whether the package is valued at $1 or $1000; same with size. I have been told that the 112P represents shipping/handling plus customs charges. The consistent and low price makes things easy.

I have sent myself approx. 40 packages and they have all arrived safe and sound. Delivery times have been anywhere from under 3 weeks to 7 weeks. I was positive that the item that took 7 weeks was lost and told the vendor so. He asked me to wait a few more days before filing a claim and sure enough it arrived, having been routed through another Philippines city.

Now you have to be self-aware, guys. If you need Amazon drone-like instant gratification, PhilPost is not for you. But for the vast majority of items I am fine with the delivery times.

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Lazada/Shopee and Ninja Vans:

Lazada and Shopee are the two largest Amazon-like providers in the Philippines. They have items that are shipped from within the Philippines (usually Manila) and items that come from overseas. Whether it is shipped from Manila or from abroad, from the standpoint of the buyer the process is the same. Once the item arrives in Dumaguete it is loaded onto one of many delivery motorcycles, operated by several companies, such as Ninja Vans and delivered directly to your place. Sometimes from past experience the driver knows where you live and sometimes you will have to direct him. “You pass the mango tree and go left and then right past the large coconut, etc.”

While you can pay with credit cards on Lazada and Shoppe I never do. I order COD, which gives me some piece of mind that I haven’t paid out anything in advance and can examine the package on arrival. Shipping costs are relatively small, depending on the part of the Philippines you live in and sometimes Shoppee has free or very cheap shipping.

If the item is coming from within the Philippines, delivery times are a week or less. Three days is not uncommon. If the item comes from outside the Philippines (such as China) I typically receive it in 10 days to two weeks. I assume these items have to go through customs but there doesn’t seem to be the long customs delays nor any large customs charges. I have heard various explanations why this is and keep my mouth shut!

I have received at least 35-40 packages from Lazada and Shopee and none have been lost or damaged. I guess I am a lucky guy. The only problem I ever had was an item where the Ninjas tried to deliver twice, we weren’t around, and they sent it back to the seller. I just re-ordered and received the item a couple weeks later.

Western Shipping Services:

Let’s say you just have to get something quickly or the seller only ships internationally via a packaging service such as FedEx or DHL. Yes, depending on what shipping service you paid for you will receive the item quickly but you may also have a whopping customs charge for your trouble. You will be paying what the normal customs charge is suppose to be. The handful of times I have shipped this way it was not unusual to have a 10-25% customs charge upon delivery. So I only use this method if I have to or if I believe the item requires special care or insurance.

So that’s my story (and I’m sticking to it). I’ve sent myself nearly 100 packages, cheap and not so cheap and have received every one. I know that once I post this blog I will hear from people who had different experiences but what can I say. I can only report what my experience has been. Of course I do believe in karma and once I post this no doubt a package will go missing but at this point with a .1000 batting average I am a happy purchaser.

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Why the Hell Would You Buy Property in the Philippines – Documents Required

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Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

We have often been asked over the last year what documentation is required to purchase a lot in the Philippines. Thanks to Janet’s organisational efforts, these are the requirements we asked from the seller before we gave any money to them:

  1. Original title (check @ Registry of Deeds) if it is authentic and if the seller is the actual owner of the property.
  2. 2020 Tax Declaration.
  3. 2020 Tax Clearance (has the tax been paid). 1, 2, and 3 should match.
  4. Location plan/vicinity map/sketch plan (we recommend asking the seller to re-survey the lot in your presence).
  5. Subdivision survey if the lot is subdivided (ex., common lot).
  6. Sworn Declaration of No Improvements issued by City/Municipal Assesor (meaning the lot has no building or permanent fence )
  7. Seller(s) Tax Identification Number (photocopy of the ID is better)
  8. At least 1 Gov’t photo ID of the seller(s) (photocopy)
  9. Notarized Special Power of Attorney – if the person signing the Deed Of Sale is not the actual owner as it appears on the title (we never considered this option – too risky) but it can be done.
  10. Certificate of Philippines Consulate if the SPA is excuted abroad.
  11. Does the lot have direct access to the main/barangay road? If not , 11A.) Have a notarized Right of Way Agreement (from the front lot owner) saying that the road is donated or you have the full right to use it and the actual size in meters. 11B.) If it has an existing right of way already (check at the Assesor’s office if it is legit & recorded)
  12. If it’s a house and lot – you need to have the original blue prints of the house.
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Additional:

If you have all these and checked their authenticity then next is the payment; who pays what depends on what you agreed/negotiated.

Drafting of the Deed of Sale: Lawyers fees (often a percentage of the sale) are open to negotiation.

Capital Gain Tax is 6% of the sale price or the market value whichever is higher. Documentary Stamp Tax is 1.5% of the same value.

Transfer Tax Fee.

There’s more little stuff but the most important items are listed above.

Addendum: Many Filipinos do not have an Original Title to their property and will in all likelihood never get one. In fact many expats who buy property are in the same circumstances. Nonetheless many of these people build houses and live there happily. This was not for us. Our goal was to have a lot with an Original Title. Therefore the above list was what we considered necessary to transfer the title.

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Our Trip to Vietnam – From Grab to Grab Ass

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We hadn’t traveled out of the Philippines in nearly a year and that was to the US to see family; so it sort of doesn’t count. Since the house was finished, the house blessing done, the shop done, lawn installed, etc. it seemed like a great time to get out of Dodge. I’d been to Vietnam eight years before (prior to marrying Janet) and had told her consistently that it was a place I wanted to take her. The following are some impressions.

Grab Not Cab: You’d think after years of Philippines experience we wouldn’t make the taxi cab mistake but we did. We arrived in Ho Chi Minh City late and took a metered cab. I had downloaded Grab the day before and set it up, but since I had never used it, I did the traditional and crappy taxi thing. Big mistake. When we arrived at our condo rental we couldn’t figure out what we owned the driver, who spoke barely a word of English. After 5 minutes of arguing it became clear that he wanted an astronomical amount that would have been higher than a NYC cab fare. I refused, pretending to be an idiot American (an easy pretend). We finally agree to less than half of what the meter said but about triple what I should have paid.

The next day we did our first Grab. What a revelation! Easy to use, the car arrived minutes later, I knew exactly what the fare would be, no cash was involved, I could choose to tip or not after the trip was over, and best of all no one had to speak any pesky English! We took Grab throughout the rest of our week and the only issue we had was traditional taxis stopping and trying to pick us up or even pretending that they were the Grab car; Grab tells you the license plate number so always pay attention to that. Now that we know how well it works any trip in Manila or Cebu will from now on be a Grab. If only they could set up Dumaguete’s trikes on Grab. What are the odds?

Japanese Steaks Are Small: One of the reasons we were traveling to Vietnam was to celebrate my birthday. The number’s too high to track, so don’t ask me what birthday it is. I looked up reviews and found a Japanese steak house on the 77th floor of Landmark 81, the tallest building in the city. This building was so tall that you had to take 3 elevators to get to the 77th floor – I kid you not. It took two elevators to get to the 78th floor and then they dropped you out the window one floor to get back to floor 77. Ok, that’s not true; you had to take another elevator to get down to floor 77. About halfway through this elevator excursion I realised that I hadn’t been this high up in a very long time and it scared the shit out of me. We reached the restaurant and were seated next to a window. I looked out and thought, ‘Why the hell did I come here?’ Janet, ever the positive wife asked “How tall was the World Trade Center?” The birthday celebration was not starting out the way I’d anticipated.

I ordered the famed Wagyu sirloin steak. Janet ordered salmon, which became a favourite of hers back in Portland. The salmon arrived first. It looked good but it was about 3/4 of the size of a business card. The steak arrived next. “Did I order from the appetiser menu?” I asked Janet. The steak was about the size of my iPhone (and thinner) and I have a 6S. Thank goodness we’d gotten a salad as well.

Both the steak and salmon were delicious but you know good taste only takes you so far when you finish in three bites.

‘Maybe we should get a dessert?’ I thought. Actually I thought, ‘Maybe I should get another steak,’ but at the prices I wasn’t gonna do that.

Darling Janet had, unbeknownst to me, asked about cake for my birthday. The lights to the entire restaurant were dimmed and the staff brought out the piece of cake and sang happy birthday. I was just thinking, ‘Is this enough to fill me up?’ I also was thinking based on the thimble sized salmon and iPhone sized steak, ‘What’s this cake costing me?’ Turned out to be complimentary; Janet had charmed them.

Bring Your Own Napkins: I liked Vietnamese food and we had many good experiences eating. One thing that was odd was that at many restaurants they provided you with damp wipes rather than napkins. At the end of the meal Janet examined the bill and asked the waiter about a particular charge. Yes it was for the wipes; they were charging about $.25/wipe and we’d both used a couple. WTF! From then on I made sure I was a one wipe guy.

The Virus and Masks: Lots of people in Vietnam wear face masks when they are out in public but the number seemed to increase as the week went on and the news about the Chinese Coronavirus got more dire. As I watched all the masks appalled, the cynic in me kicked in and I thought, ‘So you all think a $.01 piece of paper is gonna block a virus?’ Eventually even Janet went out and bought herself some face masks. It saddened me, all these masked faces. It reminded me of a Danny Boyle zombie movie. Perhaps it’s just my old age. Back in my childhood wearing a mask meant one of two things: you were either pretending to be the Lone Ranger or were robbing us .

By the time we got on our flight to head back to the Philippines I would estimate that 75% of the passengers on our flight (including Janet) were wearing masks. All the flight crew were masked. And not a single one of them looked like Clayton Moore.

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When we arrived in Manila there was technology for checking passengers temperature. This is the wonderful world we live in.

Crazy Drivers – Vietnam Style:

For those who think that the Philippines has the market cornered on crazy drivers, come to Vietnam. With 4 million motor bikes in Ho Chi Minh City, it’s the Wild Wild West. Bikes routinely drive on the sidewalks as pedestrians jump out of the way. But just as in the Philippines, within few days Janet and I got used to it. But be forewarned; a car or bike will absolutely not stop for a pedestrian.

Happy Ending and a Shoe Fetish:

In the middle of our week we wanted a massage. I had regaled Janet about stories of the wonderful massages I’d had in Vietnam eight years before. Unfortunately it was January 24th, New Years Eve in Vietnam and we found that most massage places were closed. The only open one nearby was in that high rise where we’d had dinner. We booked a time. The facility was the fanciest massage place I’d ever seen. The bathroom, with sauna, probably cost as much as my entire house. The massage that followed was decent but not the best we’d had. In fact the best we’d ever had, was a couple months ago in Bohol.

Still, we wanted another experience and so on the last day in Vietnam we walked though the downtown district and picked one of the dozens of massage places in that area. No reviews checked this time; no fancy bathrooms. They asked for cash upfront which I thought was odd, but it was cheap so why not. How bad could it be?

Janet and I were next to each other with a curtain drawn between us. My masseuse began and the massage, while not the best I’ve had, was not bad. As she massaged my legs she brushed up against the important stuff – a few times. Not the first time this has happened in a massage but it became clear with the frequency that this was not an accident. Massage styles are different in different countries and I wondered what Janet was experiencing. But soon, as often happens in a massage, I went into that half sleep state with eyes closed. Finally for some reason I opened my eyes and the massage lady pressed her finger to her lips to signal that I should shush. OK now I knew what was really being offered. I thought it took a lot of guts (or balls lol) to make such an offer as I lay next to my wife. I made a face and shook my head and the massage proceeded normally.

Afterwards, Janet sensed something was wrong, especially since the massage ladies didn’t leave as we are used to. They hung around straightening up the area as we dressed. “What happened?” she asked. “I’ll tell you later,” I said. “Let’s just get out of here.”

We left quickly and there were no tips given. Janet described her massage as “the worst.” We got out of the place and within ten feet a guy approached me and pointed to my shoe which had a tear in it. Coincidentally, he had a shoe repair kit and began miming that he would fix the shoe. We both yelled at him to stop and scurried across the street. We got into a restaurant and examined my shoe, which had obviously been cut from within the massage place. And then I described my massage experience to Janet. I may be explaining to Janet for quite a while lol.

BTW, I should be clear that despite the levity and a few odd occurrences we had a great time! We studied Vietnamese cooking, and learned about Vietnamese coffee. We also had a French bakery next door to our condo. Life is good!

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The Passing of a Friend

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Prologue: I first have to apologise to my wife, Janet. After the last couple of blog entries, which were serious and somewhat negative, she asked if my next entry could be more of my typical funny or irrelevant style and I happily agreed. But as you’ll see, this ain’t it.

Facebook and all social media are a weird amalgam of good and bad. One of the good things is that I have many many Facebook friends who I have never met in the “real” world. Most of them came my way via this very blog. Guys (a few ladies too) friended me because they liked my writing or humour or because they too were married to a Filipina, or had moved or were considering moving to the Philippines. More recently I got lots of friend request from guys who were interested in my house build.

One such friend was Alan Zaintz. He lived in Cebu and Florida and was married with a young child. We chatted online regularly, particularly the last few months. Of course we shared being Americans married to a Filipina. We also shared being Jewish; with names like Zaintz and Weisbord it was pretty obvious. There aren’t many Jewish expats here but I know a few.

As I say, the Facebook thing is weird. Is a guy a friend who I have never met? Anyway I thought he was a friend and so did Janet. He “liked” many of my posts on FB and commented often.

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This morning I found out that he passed away in Florida at the end of December. I don’t know the cause although in our conversations he implied that he was in excellent health.

Again, how do I feel about the death of a friend I only knew in cyberspace? In my case I feel as sad as I would if he were someone I knew here in Dumaguete.

And then of course my own fears kick in; those of mortality. Alan was actually two years younger than me. Janet reminded me to enjoy life now since there are no future guarantees. I ask you all to do the same.

I have nothing else profound to say. I can only ask you all to lift a glass today to the memory of my friend, Alan Zaintz.

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Dramaguete

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It’s the middle of the Christmas Holiday and we’ve survived happily. We had a very pleasant barbecue dinner with friends at our new house on Christmas Eve, then went to another friends’ house for general celebration and midnight fireworks. On Christmas we went to a friends’ house for a wonderful, traditional Christmas dinner.

It seems like the most consistent topic of conversation between the expats was the changing of Dumaguete into Dramaguete. I was told from the start before moving to the Philippines that one of the biggest challenges I would face was not about getting along with Filipinos, but about dealing with the other expats.

Depending on who you listen to, Dumaguete has somewhere between 3000-5000 expats living here. I’m not talking about the tourists but the actual residents. Most are retired and therefore skew older. Most live on a pension of some sort. Most struggle to find meaningful things to do. And some (a few?) are pains in the ass.

Keyboard warriors dominate the FB groups and internet forums. Dare to say something positive about Dumaguete or its people, and you’re likely to be shouted down. Go to any expat gathering at your local watering hole and you’re likely to hear stories about fellow expats; who isn’t talking to who, who is suing who, or even who’s banging who’s wife or gf.

If I go into the local Robinsons or a bank, store or government office and I hear a loud commotion caused by a pissed off guy, I don’t even have to turn my head; I know it’s a foreigner.

Janet and I have only lived in Duma for 2 1/2 years, so we are far from experts. But whenever we go out, at some point we turn to each other, laugh and say, “Too many foreigners.”

Now some of this is human nature. In 1974 I moved to Portland, Oregon. From that point in the 70s to the present day, Portland has taken in a huge influx of people from all over the United States. After living there about ten years I viewed myself as a native and was mildly resentful of all the influx of Californians; “Californicating Oregon,” we called it.

It’s sort of become the same here. Whenever I hear the aforementioned expats yelling in public my ungenerous reaction is that I wish they would leave “my city.” Janet is more blunt. “They should get the fuck out.” As I say our view now that we have made Dumaguete home, is that that those that cause problems, yell and scream, or get drunk at 9:00AM would be much happier to do all of the above in their home country – or under a ton of concrete ala Jimmy Hoffa.

The same can be said about the Internet. I’ve given up, but I used to post pics with captions like “A beautiful day in Dumaguete,” only to get slammed because after all it’s too hot or there’s smoke or too many roosters, bad traffic, or whatever else is bothering people at that moment.

Dramaguete – that’s what it is.

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Today, the day after Christmas, a friend of mine posted a comment on a FB group: “My Christmas Wish is Expats Remembering we are GUESTS HERE. We Are the Aliens. Philippines, Love It or Leave It…”

Dramaguete – You can imagine what many of the 50 comments were like.

Now again, complaint is a normal part of human life. But often here the complaint takes the form of ‘I am miserable and I want everyone else to be miserable too,’ or ‘I’m right and they (Filipinos) are wrong and it’s about time “they” listened to those of us that are right.’

In fact whenever I hear the “they” word in conversation I cringe a little. I want to remind the other person that “they” are citizens of the Philippines and “we” are not.

Going back to my Portland analogy, it took about 10 years to stop saying “they” (about Portlanders). Once I considered myself a Portlander and started saying “we” I found myself much happier in my environment.

So at this point Janet and I live in Dumaguete, we built a home in Dumaguete. In short we are Dumagueteños. For those who struggle with the language, culture or people of Dumaguete, I suggest you try to think of yourself as a Dumagueteño and forget the “us vs. them.” Your attitude and happiness itself might change.


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Making Friends & Being Unfriended in the Philippines

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When people consider expatting to the Philippines one area they focus on is learning to work harmoniously with Filipinos. It’s a different culture; one that the wise expat to be knows he will have to adjust to. They rarely think of how to work harmoniously with other foreigners. They should! Years ago, as I researched the possibility of moving to the Philippines, I befriended a guy online who had been living in the Philippines for a number of years. He generously advised me. His blunt assessment? “The biggest problem you will have in the Philippines is with other expats.” While “other expats” have not been the biggest problem we have had since we moved to Dumaguete, it’s near the top of the list.

Now mind you I am at an age where having a large number of friends is not a high priority but I certainly wanted a few. Friendships can come in many categories. There are the ‘get together occasionally and hoist a few’ type of friends (I’m frankly not a big hoister), there are the ‘friends who bond over a common interest or hobby’, and then there are the ‘couples friends’. As a married expat the latter is a particularly important category to me. Perhaps even more important are the friends ‘I can call when the car dies’; you know – the guy you can rely on.

Filipinos view expats as all relating easily to one another. After all they see foreigners chatting together at the various watering holes. Many such expats joke about or complain about the fact that Filipinos can’t tell the difference between an American, an Australian, a Brit, German, etc.

But it’s sort of a problem for me. I have friends and acquaintances who are from the UK, Australia, Germany, Belgium, etc. I even have a friend whose both from the UK and Australia; still trying to figure out which aspects of his character come from which culture. Let’s just say that despite our shared white skin, we are different.

And then there are the Americans. I spent 43 years in the Northwest after growing up in the Northeast. Here in Duma I have American friends from New England, the South, Texas, California, Arizona, etc. Yep, we’re all Americans, but we sure as hell ain’t the same.

Sometimes guys befriend guys from their home country. You see groups at the various foreigner watering holes and often those groups congregate based on country and language: a table of Germans speaking German, Englishmen speaking English and Americans speaking – well whatever the hell language we speak.

And sometimes, just as with Filipinos, language differences create misunderstandings, even arguments. There was the time I complimented a guy on the quality of the restaurant/bar he owned, which I called a “simple” straight-forward bar. He didn’t like the word “simple” and I spent quite a while trying to explain why to an American a “simple” bar is a very good thing.

There are topics I avoid with guys from other cultures. Soccer vs. football, which is what rest of the world incorrectly calls it 🙂

I liked the film ‘Invictus’ but that’s my only positive interaction with rugby. And no, Australian Football is not Football. Anyone can see that. But as I say, I stay away from those remarks in public lol.

Speaking of films, I’m a film nut and have been my whole life. I have thousands of films in my library. When I suggested to a couple English friends that we do a movie night at my place and watch a classic, they both said they didn’t watch movies. When I mentioned to another Englishman that Janet and I had just seen the latest action hit at the theater at Robinsons he said, as if it was a badge of honour, that he’d never been to the theater and never would. Made me sort of wonder how Daniel Craig and Sean Connery learned to act.

I also learned long before the current bizarre climate that to have friends I stay away from political discussions. That said, there’s nothing more entertaining that watching 60-something Americans throwing (and missing) swings at each other over political disagreements. Other foreigners simply don’t understand. I’ve heard often, “Dave, you’re the only American I know who doesn’t want to talk American politics.” “It’s boring,” I reply. “And so is Brexit.”

So the reality is that if you want foreigner friends you are going to make friends from different cultures. It’s cool, sometimes exciting, and often a pain in the ass.

If I think about it, when I lived in Portland I had a number of friends I had known for decades. I even had a friend I went to college with in New York City, meaning we’d known each other for over 45 years.

Each year, being not the super social type I might add a friend or two. I also would lose a friend or two, either through someone relocating, dying or just growing apart.

When Janet moved to Portland and we married I added many new friends; the male half of Fil-Am couples we met. But this explosion in new friends was an aberration not the norm for me.

I arrived in Dumaguete knowing a couple of guys just a little bit. We had a once a month beer drinking group based on a forum we all belonged to. A varied and good group of guys and I still go to the monthly meetings when I am available.

Some of those guys I see more than just once a month but others I only see at that monthly meeting. I like catching up with them and go away thinking ‘I wish I could see that guy more often,’ but generally forget that determination within a few minutes.

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Nonetheless, despite my busy yet lazy retired life, and despite my general unsociability, I have made a few friends. We just hosted Thanksgiving in our new house and Janet made a spectacular turkey with all the trimmings for three other couples. Had we been a little more settled (we’d moved in less than three weeks before) we probably would have invited a few other couples, but the 10 or 11 people who were there were enough for now and were treated to a great meal.

So it’s been over two years and while I do have a few friends, and even a couple guys in that ‘I can call if the car dies’ category, I can’t help but think of a couple friends that faded away – and one that exploded.

There was the one American who we hung out with a handful of times and seemed very cool. We shared guitars in common. One day I realised I hadn’t seen any Facebook postings from him in a while, so visited his FB page to see whether I had missed anything, only to discover he’d unfriended me. No conversation or explanation – nothing. I wracked my brain to see if there had been anything said in a previous conversation that might be off putting and could think of nothing. Janet saw him 6 months later on the street and said he looked gaunt and older.

And then there was the Englishman and his Filipina partner. We’d gotten fairly close over the course of a couple years and the two girls got together regularly to share and probably console each other.

Over the course of the last year both Janet and I had become a bit less thrilled with the male part of the couple, but not enough to end the friendship, just enough to know that it would remain casual and not go deeper; IOW not a ‘call when the car dies’ sort of trust.

Both Janet and I on separate occasions said something to him that although honest and respectful, he didn’t like. About a week later he sent me a Messenger message saying that he and his partner could no longer be friends with us. I crafted a response but by the time I hit send, discovered that he’d not only unfriended us on FB but had blocked me as well.

More significantly the female partner unfriended Janet. I figure the guy probably convinced her to cut ties. Janet misses her and I suspect she misses Janet as well. The girls are far younger than me and need connection more than I do. I just shrugged my shoulders and threw out a couple “what an asshole” epithets (I’m sure I said worse). The whole blocking thing is bizarre but the social media has changed the nature of relationships and not for the better IMO.

So I move on. I have my monthly beer friends, I play golf weekly with a couple of buddies, have a handful of guitar friends, and this week we will host a house blessing/house warming for friends and family, and I am sure I will be reminded that I do know a number of good guys in Dumaguete.

But even those good guys agree – there’s plenty of asshole expats out there, so be careful.

BTW, the above pic doesn’t have much to do with the topic but they all do look like friends – lol. Oh and did I mention how many foreigners lose friends and even take swings at each other over politics?

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How to Avoid the Long Nose Tax Through the Art of Negotiation

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Here’s one that’ll get me in trouble!

All you have to do is get together with a few expats and eventually the subject will turn to getting overcharged in the Philippines. People call it the skin tax, the long nose tax, the white tax. It usually involves prices in markets, street vendors, service people, and taxis. The assertion is that we are all “cheated” for simply being a foreigner. And while I would be a fool to say that it has never happened to anyone, my basic perspective is that it is much less frequent than expats scream about. Now there is a “tax” in the Philippines but it isn’t so much the skin tax; it’s the “you’re rich” tax. In my more cynical moments I’d also call it the “idiot tax” lol.

The fact is that until a couple generations ago “negotiating” was dominant in our Western cultures but that art has disappeared. Not only do stores have fixed prices, they have prices based on whatever some faceless/nameless computer says. Most service organisations followed suit. But it wasn’t that way in our parents’ or grandparents’ day; they knew how to negotiate and it was an important skill to master, as most of our grandparents were poor or little better.

The bottom line in the Philippines is that, as all over the world, the seller wants to get the maximum amount for his goods or services and the buyer wants to pay the minimum possible. So how to do that?

I have to mention that I have some experience in this matter. For many years I ran a small service-oriented business. People came to my office, asked for a service, and I quoted a price. Sometimes they got out their checkbook or credit card, and sometimes the games began. As the “seller” my job was difficult; I didn’t want to lose the business but I also wanted to get the maximum amount I could. And since I had to work with the customer afterward it was important to me that both of us went away without resentment. Often that meant I gave the customer a small discount; enough to make them happy, but not enough to piss me off.

The other thing that most people don’t understand about small business or service people is that often the price depends on their personal circumstances at the moment. Many times I was broke and needed to pay the mortgage that week. That meant I needed to get all the business I could and was willing to drop my price a bit more than normal. Sometimes I was in such bad financial shape that I decided the opposite; that I had to remain absolutely firm on the price. If you came to my office that day you weren’t getting shit for a discount.

Don’t think this is true in the Philippines? Don’t think that sometimes the service guy comes to your house and really needs the work that day (and your pesos)? Of course it does. And dependant on his circumstances that might mean you get a better price – or a worse one.

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Also in my business I learned the art of reading people. I understood when an 18 year old came in wearing tattered clothes, I might be giving a discount. When a guy came in wearing a $2000 suit, he wasn’t getting shit lol. This is in fact the reality in the Philippines. Mrs. Rodriquez comes in and the vendor knows her and her family; he probably knows her monthly income. You, the foreigner walk in and the vendor knows you are rich. There’s no sense saying you’re not rich; compared to Mrs. Rodriquez you are. You’re the guy in the $2000 suit and the asking price will be higher and the seller will be less likely to negotiate down too much. This isn’t racism; it’s just business. One of the reasons expats mistake the “you’re rich” tax with a “racist tax” is that most of us have never been viewed as rich before.

So let’s talk some strategies, shall we.

  1. Get rid of the notion that you’re going to be cheated. This is a very poor negotiating stance. Even if you get a decent price, you’ll go away sure you’ve been scammed. I’ve heard guys publicly yell at vendors that they were being overcharged because they were a foreigner. Had someone walked into my office and claimed I was overcharging them, they would have been asked to leave – immediately.
  2. If you really feel you are being overcharged for whatever reason – leave and find someone else. It ain’t that hard. If you still decide to pay the vendor what you feel is a poor price – that’s on you, not them.
  3. Learn to negotiate. I know many expats who let their wives or girlfriends do all negotiating while they stay in the car or at home. While that is certainly your right and might be an easy solution, it guarantees you will never learn to negotiate here. Go in and do it yourself, make some mistakes and do it again. Pretty soon you will learn the ropes.
  4. Perhaps most importantly is; know the approximate price of an item or service. If everyone is selling mangoes for 120/kilo and someone asks you for 150, use that information to negotiate. “120’s the standard price now.” If they don’t come down, no need to get mad; just walk to the next vendor. OTOH if they say, “Yes Sir, 120 is standard but these mangoes are of much higher quality.” Then you have a decision to make; but it’s your decision. You’re not being cheated.
  5. How important is the savings to you? If it’s 10 pesos in the market I may not want to argue for five minutes over it. OTOH if it’s a service that means thousands of pesos, your negotiations might be pretty important.
  6. Most Filipinos want your business and will give you a discount. We are building a house and needed to contract a particular item. I had someone come over and give me a bid of 9500P. Janet yelled (at me) that it was too expensive. I sent a message to the vendor that the price was too much; what was his best price. “6500 is my best price, Sir.” Sold! Now could I have continued to beat him down on the price? Maybe. But I was happy he’d dropped 1/3 off his price.
  7. Always assume the first offer is not the best price. Shake your head, roll your eyes, scream at how high that is, and ask for the “best price.” In most cases the price will come down; in some cases significantly. And be prepared to walk; the seller can tell the difference; they’ve done this for years.

There are exceptions to the above rules. Sometimes I am in a rush or in no mood to argue over a few pesos. Once again in such a situation I have decided to pay the asking price; no one’s cheating me.

Janet has an even harder decision. She still uses the same techniques and language she used before we married. The difference is that then she had to get the best price; she didn’t have the pesos. Today she knows that she can afford to pay the asking price. In all likelihood the vendor sizes her up and also knows she can pay the asking price. Then it is more a matter of face for Janet to insist on getting a reasonable discount. Just like me she too may sometimes decide that the argument isn’t worth it. OTOH we have often walked away when she sensed that she wasn’t getting fair treatment. I’m happy to walk away with her.

The bottom line is this: if you get a lousy price – learn to negotiate better. If you choose to pay the lousy price – that’s completely on you.

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