Tag Archives: Dumaguete

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MY PI CANCER ADVENTURE – Part 2

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Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Once the decision had been made I acted as quickly as possible. I had an online meeting with the surgeon in Manila. She explained the procedure, quoted the success rate and her staff scheduled the surgery for the following week. This relieved me a little bit since the thing on my nose was noticeably growing almost by the day.

Since Janet had already had one experience leaving Negros Oriental during this pandemic, we were familiar with the process: permission to travel from the Barangay Captain, sign off from the Mayor and the police, and a health document. We had it all in a day or two and I booked a flight. Then the unexpected fun began.

I had promised Janet (and promised myself too) a nice hotel, great restaurants and shopping to compensate for the ordeal. I went onto Agoda and booked a hotel close to the hospital. The next day I got a message from the hotel that they were currently allowing quarantine guests only – guests coming from out of the country and required to quarantine – and therefore my booking was rejected.

I quickly discovered that many hotels in Manila were quarantine only. I was annoyed that none of the hotels published any such information on their websites, nor did Agoda. Others were government approved for “staycations” but those staycations were only available to residents of Metro Manila. I emailed a bunch of hotels and one by one they apologized but would not allow our booking.

I then got the bright idea to book an AirBNB. Perhaps they wouldn’t have the same restrictions. But one by one they too got back to me that they could not accept my booking for a variety of reasons. I was panicking and not thinking straight. Finally I contacted an upscale hotel, the Edsa Shangri-la, and they asked for documentation from my doctor confirming why I had to come to Manila. I submitted my doctors orders and they approved me. I nearly cried in relief and will forever be grateful to the Shangri-la, which is the best damn hotel in Manila!

Janet and I flew to Manila. The process at the Dumaguete airport wasn’t too horrible; just submission of the documents giving us permission to travel. BTW, the Dumaguete airport has never looked so clean! Normally it’s a shabby, dirty little airport. OK it’s still a little shabby, but pretty spotless. The flight to Manila was at most half filled.

Contrary to my usually cheap ways, we paid for the car service from the airport to the hotel. Upon arrival we were escorted to what used to be the hotel’s Spa (now closed), where a rapid test was performed. It was only after our negative test results came through that we were allowed to check in and go to our room.

The next day the real fun began. I was required to have a swab test to perform the procedure, as well as 3 other blood tests, an ECG and a chest X ray, followed by an exam by a cardiologist. I guess they want to make sure that, you know, you’re not going to kick off during the surgery.

The testing procedure at The Medical City in the Ortigas area of Metro Manila, was surprisingly efficient. Fall in line, show the doctor’s orders, pay for the tests, and then get the tests. Within a couple hours I’d had the swab test plus the 5 others completed.

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However I was then told that the cardiologist, whose approval I required, would not be able to see me after 12:00. This meant that we rushed back to the testing area and begged for the results to be given to us early. Fortunately I was able to get all the results (except the swab test) and rushed back to the Cardiologist’s office at 11:45. Naturally blood pressure had to be taken first. “You gotta be kidding. I’ve been running all over for 4 hours. My BP will be off the charts.” And it was! But 5 minutes later, after closing my eyes and breathing deeply and slowly to calm myself, it was closer to normal and the cardiologist saw me. Cool guy who acknowledged when I asked that his practice was way up. “There are Covid deaths and non-Covid deaths caused by the pandemic,” was his simple statement of fact. He certified that my heart was fine for the next day’s procedure, and we breathed a sigh of relief.

At that point we did what anyone unable to travel for a year would do; we hit the local mall! SM Megamall, right around the corner from our hotel, is the 2nd largest mall in the Philippines and 9th largest in the world. This place makes Dumaguete’s Robinsons Mall look like a 7-11. Significant shopping, followed by a nice Japanese dinner occurred, keeping my mind a little bit off the next day’s surgery.

Are we having fun yet?

The next morning we went back to Medical City and proceeded to what was called the Wellness Institute, a suite within the hospital. It was pleasant and upscale and could easily be confused with an American counterpart.

After paperwork, the doctor and her nurses arrived. We asked a few questions and the work began. I am certainly no expert but it all appeared very professionally done. The US-trained doctor had performed thousands of these procedures and it showed. She was very attentive to my comfort and must have asked a dozen times whether I was OK. BTW, the surgery was done with local anesthesia – lots of it.

The surgery was performed and the tumor sent to the lab, which is the advantage of MOHS micro surgery; they can get the results between 30-60 minutes and then decide whether to cut more. In this case I waited over an hour; I was to find out why later.

After a lot of waiting I just padded out to the waiting room in my surgical gown to be with Janet. The doctor arrived and told me she proposed using the skin under my eyes, aka the bags, for the skin graft. Basically I’d be getting two surgeries for the price of one; essentially an eye job. Lol.

What I found out later from Janet was that the doctor was unhappy with the samples the lab sent back and yelled at them over the phone to do it again and do it the way she wanted. Janet told me, “she’s tough.” When the revised samples came back the doctor found a small amount of additional cancer left, requiring another cut.

My doctor then showed me a photo of where the graft would go. I was stunned and for the first time scared and muttered, “Oh my God.” There was a nearly dime-sized circle on the right side of my nose. The reality of what had occurred set in. Janet was wonderful and calmed me down, reminding me that we had acted quickly and done everything possible.

“We won’t be able to use the eye skin. It’s too thin. We’ll have to be a bit creative,” said the doctor, scaring me again. So I got more anesthesia and another cut. That sample came back quickly and the doctor proclaimed there was no more cancer.

The doctor proposed taking skin from under my arm where she said “the skin was a bit sagging.” “I used to have more muscle there, doctor. But my weight lifting days are over.” So more anesthesia, a cut for the graft from the arm, stitching up the arm (first stitches in my life) and stitched the graft to my nose. The doctor proclaimed that the shape of my nose (never a particularly pleasing shape) had been saved.

A gigantic bandage was placed over my nose and the doctor gave us prescriptions and general orders and said she’d see me in 3 days.

At that point, since this is the Philippines, we were left with the need to pay. For those of you who want the numbers, this was not an inexpensive procedure. The doctor’s fee was 70k Pesos. The hospital and lab fees for Medical City were about 39k Pesos. BTW, my doctor also has privileges at a hospital in Makati and I was told that hospital’s fees would have been about double. I have PhilHealth coverage and while many expats complain about the price increase for expats that started a few years ago, PhilHealth paid about 30% of both the doctor and the hospital fees. In addition, the day before, PhilHealth paid for most of the swab test fee. So you will not hear me complaining about Phil Health! In the end I paid out of pocket about 79k plus a little more for the tests from the previous day. Thank goodness the stock market’s climbing.

More to come…

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My History of Violence

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As many of you know I spent much of my life in Portland, Oregon. It was mostly a nice life. It’s where Janet and I married and lived a delightful four years before getting the hell out as fast as we could.

Now Portland is Antifa Central on the nightly news (assuming you believe that the news still exists). The images sadden me. I know all the buildings and blocks that have been hit. I loved the Elk that’s no longer there. When I joked that apparently the elk, who had been there for 100 years, was racist and deserved destruction, someone told me with a straight face, “maybe the sculptor was a racist.”

What’s odder than the violence, is the reaction from many of my Portland friends which basically comes down to “everything’s fine here; nothing to see.” Of course most of them live in the affluent suburbs on the West and East sides of Portland and rarely go into the city. Nonetheless they assure me that it’s a plot from the government and right-wingers to paint the city as descending into chaos.

I suppose it’s the nature of violence. If your street has had no robberies your town is safe; if you’ve been robbed then what the hell are the police and politicians doing to solve the problem.

The cynic in me is also reminded of not long after 9-11. A buddy of mine went to New York City. When he returned I asked him how it was. “Exactly the same,” he replied. “That is, unless you try to get to Greenwich Street (where the Twin Towers were).”

All this has made me examine my feelings about violence and my history with it, as well as its existence in the Philippines. So that’s what follows.

Childhood/Teenager – Philadelphia:

I grew up in an environment far different from Janet’s. Our neighbourhood was suburban and upscale. There was no crime or murders. We didn’t lock our house or cars. I know that would sound insane to a younger person, but no one did in those days – at least not where we lived.

There were no bad people roaming the streets of my neighbourhood. Now that I am an adult I realise that in those days there were vagrancy laws and the cops would shoo away anyone that wasn’t a resident or “didn’t belong.” I took it for granted that if someone was walking the streets, they lived there.

Then one summer we got robbed. I distinctly remember seeing my father break the back door window so he could tell the insurance company it was a break in; not that we were too stupid to lock the doors. The police told us there had been a series of robberies. From then on the doors were locked. Locking the car would soon follow.

At some point (and I don’t remember the chronology) my female cousin was walking down the street of her neighbourhood and got flashed. I remember how upset people were and my mother talking to me about what to do if I ran into a “bad man.” I’m sure it involved running like hell. Life was changing.

Again, I’ve forgotten the details and chronology but around the age of 14-15 came the big one. My 2nd cousin (who I barely knew) was a co-ed (that’s what they used to call them) at the University of Pennsylvania. She was raped and murdered. It was big news – I mean front page banner news – in Philadelphia. A pretty, upscale co-ed murdered in the dorms at Penn. The family was stunned but I didn’t really know her so wasn’t sure how to feel.

A couple years later I went off to college at the University of Rochester. Her younger brother attended Rochester. I was a Freshman and he was a Sophomore. I think my parents set it up so he would take me under his wing. We got together a couple times at first and I would wave at him when I saw him on campus but I never got closer. He was a nice guy but my God, his sister had been murdered; and at 17 I had no idea what to say to him. BTW, it’s taken 50 years to acknowledge that that was the reason I didn’t try harder to get close to him. I acted like it was his fault but the truth is it scared the shit out of me.

New York City:

After my sophomore year I went to NYC to visit a girl I liked. The first thing she said to me when I entered the apartment was, “Did you lock your car?” I couldn’t remember and we rushed down to the street to check. She acted like the car would be gone or stripped by the time we got there but fortunately it wasn’t. Welcome to New York.

The next year I transferred to City College of New York (yes I was chasing the girl). I found an apartment in the Bronx which I shared with two other students. The apartment was right across the street from a college that had just closed. This meant that previously most residents of the area were students, but when I moved in we were just about the only young white people in the neighborhood. Will get back to that in a moment.

CCNY was located in Harlem. Interestingly I never had a moment of fear walking the streets near school or taking the train to and from school, even at night. Was I young and stupid or was it safer than one would suppose; probably a bit of both.

Back in the Bronx where I lived, I befriended some young people in the neighbourhood. The truth is my roommates were never around (girlfriends), the girl I had chased was no longer in the picture, and the new girl I was chasing was only occasionally available after considerable begging. In short I knew no one and was lonely.

One day one of these friends showed up at my apartment. We watched TV and he brought something to smoke. I provided the pipe and whatever it was was pretty damn good. Once I was suitably relaxed he pulled out a knife and held it to my neck. For the next hour I was sure I was going to die.

He started out the robbery with intimidation, yelling, “Where’s the gun. Where’s the gun!” “What gun? What are you talking about?” He was sure we were packing. Once I convinced him we had no gun he proceeded room to room. My roommates weren’t poor and had some high end shit but he only had two hands and lugging around 200 pounds of tube McIntosh stereo equipment wasn’t practical. One of my roommates had the habit of coming home and emptying his pockets of all the change onto the carpet in his room. The robber starting fishing for quarters. I must admit I had been broke a few times and had done some similar fishing in the past. Marty, my roomy, must have had $50 in quarters on the carpet and my burglar friend stuffed his pockets.

Naive moron that I was at some point I asked him why he was doing this; after all we were friends. He laughed at my stupidity. “I’m an addict.” Welcome to New York.

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We got to my room. I had two guitars and a small amp. He could only carry one guitar. “Which one?” he asked. “What?” “I can only take one so choose.” “That’s like asking me to choose between my children,” I wailed. One of the guitars was a ’63 Fender Jaguar, which I had recently purchased in Greenwich Village. I thought of this recently because a top vintage guitar seller (Norm’s Rare Guitars) with a YouTube Channel recently posted a video of a ’65 Jaguar which was selling for $10k. I’m yelling at the TV, “Janet – I had that guitar but mine was even older.” I gave my burglar friend the Jag.

Now mind you throughout the ordeal I was looking for something to pick up and brain him. One roomy had a big candle and I wondered whether that would be heavy enough to knock him out but I was too terrified. One consequence of the robbery was I subsequently decided that if something similar ever happened again I’d use the candle and bash the MF to death!

The guy tied me up badly and locked my door. I got out of the ropes within a half hour but no one responded to my yelling until the next day. Free, I went to a pay phone and called the police.

Two policemen arrived and they took a report. As we sat on the living room chairs-sofa they were exchanging glances and giggling. I couldn’t figure out why until I realised the pipe and it’s remains were laying on the coffee table! It was like a scene out of The Big Lebowsky.

Portland:

Years later I was living in Portland with my soon to be Wife #2. We had a nice rental home in a beautiful old Portland neighbourhood. One day she got home to see the back door glass had been smashed just liked my Dad had done all those years before and the place robbed. “But they didn’t take anything,” she said relieved. I searched the house. “Yes they did – my guitar.”

It wasn’t a high end guitar but it was the best I could do at the time. The experience was actually positive and a couple years later I decided to teach myself how to make guitars so I’d always have one! I’ve been hooked ever since.

A couple years later Wife #2 and I were living in our own home (not far from that rental) and had one child. In the middle of the night someone pounded on our door and yelled. I looked through the peephole and saw a youngish and clearly stoned person very insistent on getting in. “Get the hell out of here,” I yelled but he continued. Wife #2 called the “soon to be defunded” police. Within 3 minutes two cop cars screeched outside our home. Four officers rushed out. I could hear a struggle on our porch; the struggle was brief and the guy was in the back of one of the cars. One officer came inside our home and quickly told us what had occurred, we thanked him profusely, and off they went. This is why we pay for police!

It was about 12 years later. I’d divorced and married Janet. Again we owned a nice home only about 5 minutes from the previous home. By now the neighbourhood had changed a bit. It was still pleasant and slightly upscale but the local park, like so many others in Portland, had allowed tent cities. During the day homeless young people wandered the neighbourhoods; no vagrancy laws enforced in Portland. People drank or defecated in back yards.

One day both Janet and I were home. A young man wandered up the street. Clearly he was stoned, psychotic or both; he yelled incoherently and pounded on everyone’s door trying to gain entry. Our neighbor and Janet were on the phone consoling each other, terrified. I called the police. One officer finally arrived and took his time about it. He came into our house. The guy was in the middle of the street ranting and then occasionally would go up to someone’s house and shake the door knob to get in. The cop explained, “I can’t do anything unless he agrees to go.” “What!” I said incredulously. “If he volunteers I can take him to the hospital. If not he has to commit a crime.” “What about trespassing?” I asked. The cop shrugged. “What if I did something about this?” I asked. “Then I would arrest you.”

In all fairness to the Officer, he spoke to the guy a couple times and eventually the guy did get into the car and off they went. But the experience certainly demonstrated the changes in City policy over the 12 years.

Philippines:

As we prepared to retire and move to the Philippines a consistent mantra from friends was, “Is it safe?” You’d think they were attempting to do an impression of Lawrence Olivier in Marathon Man.

Let’s see: as safe as Philly where we were robbed, as safe as NYC where I was robbed or as safe as Portland where I was robbed multiple times?

I have already written about how we were robbed in a previous rental house in Dumaguete.

The Philippines is the same as anywhere else. If you haven’t been robbed you think it’s safe. If you have been robbed you do what we did: put bars on the windows, a large spiked wall around the property, install a CCTV system and get a dog. Are we safe? Not necessarily. If someone wants to get in badly enough they can. The difference here is the cops arrive ready to shoot! Its taken me 67 years to admit it but – that’s a good thing.

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Corona TImes #2

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It’s been only 12 days since I wrote my last blog piece, http://Corona Times in the Philippines, and well, the world and the Philippines have changed a lot since then. I usually try to write humorously but it’s a tough struggle now.

Like many people, I just want the world to return to the way it was a month or two ago. If not, I want someone to give me a date when to expect things to return. And if not that I want the world to return for just me and Janet – and maybe if I’m generous a few carefully selected others – and let the rest of you deal with all of this. That seems fair, don’t you all agree lol.

By the Numbers: As of today there are 2084 reported cases of Covid-19 in the Philippines and 88 deaths. This is 10 times the number of cases and about 6 times the number of deaths I reported 12 days ago. The numbers are small compared to the US, but growing at an alarming rate.

Unlike most countries, the Philippines, an archipelago, has a natural advantage. Ferries and planes between islands were mostly shutdown 2 weeks ago, with the exception of necessary supplies. Whatever term you use, that means that we’ve essentially been quarantined for the past couple weeks, unable to travel except on our island. Actually that’s not entirely true. Negros has two provinces and the other province, Negros Occidental closed its borders a couple weeks ago. so really we can only travel within Negros Oriental, which is pretty limiting.

I watch a huge country like the US, where people can and do freely travel between states, and can’t help but wonder if that’s a good thing. Here we have no such options.

In addition, islands like Luzon and Cebu are under complete lockdown, so you can’t move from town to town. Several of Janet’s siblings left Cebu City before the lockdown and are now home in Alcoy, Cebu.

Gradually through the last 12 days most stores and restaurants have closed. A few holdovers do deliveries. I was disappointed to find out that my favourite bagel place, Rolling Pin, actually the only bagel place, closed today. I was hoping to hit it one more time before Friday.

Why Friday? Because Friday, April 3rd the entire province announced we’d be under enhanced quarantine. This means most businesses will be closed by law. Every family will get one pass for someone to leave the home 2 days a week to get groceries or take care of whatever business they have. Janet will be the pass holder, since as a senior I am not supposed to leave the house at all. I’m not a have to go places every day sort of guy but I need my daily walk. At this age my daily walk is mostly the walk around the block sort of exercise and I’m still hoping to be able to do that. I swear I’ll wear a mask and won’t go near anybody but being locked in scares the shit out of me.

Now I have to admit that where we are locked in is a pretty nice place. We have 1300+ square meters of property. I have a shop in the back of the lot and Janet has a garden. Hell, I could walk to my shop and back 4 or 5 times and it would be just as much exercise as my walk, but it’s still not the same.

As reported before the yard is big enough to practice my chipping. I have a bucket as my target. I usually miss it and the ball goes into Janet’s garden which doesn’t enhance our relationship.

Unlike most Filipinos we have plenty of groceries and the money to get more. And we have a car which allows us to stay away from others. I never thought of this benefit when I bought the car but it seems pretty important now.

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In fact yesterday, as my darling Janet began to watch me crack up she suggested that we take a drive. We drove to Siaton; just drove and looked at the sites. The weather was beautiful of course. Dumaguete was pretty much closed down but as we got further and further out of town we noticed that commercial activity picked up, until it seemed normal by the time we hit the outer limits of our drive. I wish I could say this was a good thing but in fact it struck us as a bad thing. I could imagine the people thinking, ‘All that danger stuff is for people in Dumaguete or Cebu or Manila, not for us here.’ I hope they’re right but doubt it.

But come Friday there will be no more drives, no more bagels or most other treats I like to spoil myself and Janet with.

But it’s not all bad news. Because the bagel place was closed, I panicked. “I wonder if McDonalds (known as McDos here) is closed?” I cried in terror. “Let’s find out,” suggested my darling wife. We went down there and praise the Lord, they were open and we got our normal meals from the drivethru. Now the routine is different; money goes in a basket; food is handed to you on a tray. I had my mask on so they didn’t get my order right, but hell, they usually get it wrong anyway. Regardless, we were happy and they told us the drivethru would remain open past the dreaded April 3rd.

One more bit of normalcy. Exiting the drivethru and making a left as I do to get home is always a challenge. A motorcyclist was bound and determined to “get butchered” as Janet loves to delicately say, swerved around me to avoid being hit; and he avoided it barely. It was as if to say, “I’m not letting some damn virus keep me from my destiny – to die on my motor.” Anyway, I didn’t kill him and we returned home and wolfed down our burgers so quickly I couldn’t much enjoy it but was happy for the normalcy.

One other bit of normal. A couple days ago Shopee actually delivered a package. I kid you not! I was surprised since I’d gotten a message the day before from the driver that said he couldn’t deliver because of the quarantine. So I was shocked to see him ring the bell and ask for 171 Pesos for a tiny, sort of irrelevant item that I’d ordered a month (or a lifetime) ago. But I was happy. Now if they’d only deliver Janet’s birthday present which is stuck somewhere between Manila and Dumaguete or the little toy which I bought for myself and hadn’t told Janet about (until now) and is coming via FedEx. Every day their automated system tells me it’s coming today but everyday I get a message saying it’s still stuck in Manila. These mofos are teasing me. I wish they’d just admit, “Hey we’re enjoying your toy. You crazy Americans really spend money on this shit?”

One more piece of Philippines normalcy: As I’m writing this Janet calls me, “There’s a lizard in our bathroom.” “So what,” I say. “We see them all the time.” “This is the biggest one we’ve ever had.” I went up and sure enough he was the biggest one we’ve ever had in the house. We tried to catch him and he ran behind the bathtub. Clearly he’s a male lizard – he likes my tub. He can’t be all bad.

Ok I’m making light of all this crap. I could tell you that I’m scared for myself and I could tell you I’m scared for Janet and my Filipino family and neighbours who have it much worse than me. Or I could tell you I’m afraid for my kids, who I can’t get to see if the worst happened and visa versa.

But I can’t tell you all these things. Too busy chasing that lizard.

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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 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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House Project – The Good, Bad, Ugly – and Ugliest

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We have officially started the last week of the house portion of the project. Our target was that the house itself would be completed by September 30 and that October would be reserved for issues outside the house: completion of the wall and spikes, completion of the shop, completion of the canal, etc. We “might” actually hit our target, so this looks like a good time to review the entire project and call out some of the problems I have only hinted at before.

The Good: The contractor that we eventually hired had an architect/engineer friend who came up with two modern designs, both of which we liked. We asked for elements from both designs which he combined to create a final design. We were excited.

The contractor came up with a bid which I thought was OK but maybe a bit high. He ultimately agreed that his bid would be a fixed price; meaning that there would be no cost increases from inflation. As you will soon see, this became irrelevant. Nonetheless the negotiations went well and soon we were signing a contract with a lawyer.

Not long after, the construction started. While I would hate to categorise the entire subsequent process as bad, this was the end of the honeymoon period.

The Bad: Our contractor hired a foreman and work commenced. We were soon to find out that the foreman was only hired for 2 days/week. We complained about that but the contractor assured us that between he and the foreman there would be plenty of supervision. There never was.

A small crew, averaging 6-8 began the wall (or fence as it’s called here) surrounding the property. Janet and I would come over daily to check the progress. Sometimes progress was being made and sometimes not so much. More complaints to the contractor, more assurances, and the wall progressed, though slowly.

Three months later the wall was mostly done and they switched to work on the house. The crew expanded to about 12-13. It was quickly clear to us that a crew of a dozen would take two years to finish the house. More complaints, more assurances but the crew was rarely large enough.

There were ups and downs, mistakes and more mistakes, but yet the house did begin to take shape. Within six months we could see that these guys might actually be capable of building this house; we really weren’t sure before. But by the six month mark, money became a worry.

The contractor’s money methodology was simple. He would ask for a certain sum of money monthly and I would give it to him. After a few months the pattern was set but I could do the math and confronted him, “At the rate you are asking for money, the money will run out before the house is completed.” He assured us the first few months were the larger portions of money required because of steel and concrete, etc. and that later requests would be smaller. This never turned out to be true.

As a certain point Janet and I had one of those “Come to Jesus” meetings with the contractor. Janet said, “We have given you half the budget but we only have 25% of a house.” He again reassured us, showing us the numbers of what was still left to buy and how much got paid to the crew and that we still had money to complete the project. I was skeptical. Similar conversations and similar assurances would occur monthly.

Janet would try to assure me. “We have a contract. We can sue him if he doesn’t finish.” As the more experienced and more cynical partner I told her “A contract is only good if the person you are suing has money to pay you.” Nonetheless since progress continued we remained cautiously optimistic.

As I have documented in other blog posts, not only was supervision of the crew hit and miss, so was material purchasing. The crew and foreman often complained to us about not having the materials they needed. We would complain to the contractor and eventually more materials would arrive. But this clearly slowed the project. And less efficiency meant more cost.

We tried to help the contractor save money. Whenever we would see a needed piece for the project on sale we would contact the contractor. “Robinsons has overhead fans on sale for a great price.” We would buy the sale items and minus that amount of money from what we owed the contractor. While this should have been his methodology all along (shopping for deals), in the end it didn’t help him.

We also tried to help the contractor schedule the job. In June we went to the contractor and told him we needed the house done by the end of September so that we could move in during October. He agreed that it could be done. He told the workers that if they finished by September 30 he would give them a lechon party. Lechon is very big in the Philippines and for a few weeks the crew was excited. Pretty soon they knew the truth; that there would be no lechon.

The Ugly:

And then the fateful day occurred (cue organ). The contractor asked to meet with us at our rental home, which he never did before. He explained that he had no more money and had used some of our money to buy himself a piece of property. He couldn’t sell the property because the title was not finalised and the economy was soft.

Frankly we already knew that he had purchased a piece of property. This is the Philippines and everyone knows everyone’s business and so we had been told months before that the contractor had bought a lot. At the time my attitude was, ‘Well he’s entitled to make a profit and if he uses some of his profit to buy a lot that’s his business, as long as I get my house.’ But now it was clear we were not going to get our house.

Our first step was to take over all purchasing for the project; we simply felt we could no longer give the contractor any more money. What was shocking was how little materials were at the project. The crew needed everything. I made a list of the major elements I knew still had to be purchased, but that list turned out to be a fraction of what they really needed. Janet and I were going to stores all day long every day and cash was flowing out of our bank faster than I could keep track of it. My desk had a stack of receipts which I tracked on my spreadsheet and soon it was official; the budget was spent and we were in the red.

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For the next few weeks we gave a modest amount to the contractor weekly to pay the crew. Then one day I was contacted by a guy who was also using our contractor. “Is your crew being completely paid? Mine isn’t and they are ready to quit.” I said, “I think they must be – no one’s complained.” The next day Janet and I went to the site and asked each crew member. BTW, by this point in time the crew was over 30. Every crewman was owed some money. One poor guy was owed back pay for three weeks.

At that point we took over the payroll and paid everyone everything they were owed. It was the equivalent of an extra week’s pay.

For all intents and purposes we took over the running of the project. We asked the foreman if he could temporarily work more days and he agreed. Janet spent 8 hours a day on site watching the crew and yelling at them; she does this well. I ran around daily buying stuff. We were and are busy busy retirees.

We brought in Janet’s oldest brother, Marlon from Cebu to work. He’s worked very hard and really shown some of the crew members how work is supposed to be done. This has turned out to be a good decision, although our little rental house is now a crowded little rental house.

While there have been plenty of glitches everyone can see that the crew has worked harder and gotten more done. With luck (fingers crossed) this week the final elements of the house will be done. On Saturday Janet is giving the crew the promised lechon party.

Next week the air conditioners get installed and the crew moves to the outside projects and shop completion. With even more luck those elements will be completed in October.

In the meantime we know that there are a hundred little touch up jobs required in the house, mostly involving paint. I will be finishing the doors and there are a lot of them. Janet plans to bring the kids up from Alcoy on their school break to clean. Only in the Philippines do kids get excited to come to an overcrowded rental house to be worked like dogs.

The Ugliest: I may be conning myself, but I pride myself in telling the truth. It may be my truth or my interpretation of the truth but still I tell the truth. I ran a business for 14 years and when problems occurred I told the customer the hard truth. I worked at Intel for 15 years and told my accounts (Fortune 500s all) the cold hard truth and they accepted it.

I have become angered and depressed by how often I have been lied to in this process. Sometimes the simple lies are lies of omission, sometimes the gentle lies of ‘we don’t want to admit there’s a real problem,’ but many times bald faced lies were told to my face. It was infuriating and at times deeply depressing. I have no conclusions and no interest in globalising my experience but when I say “two plus two is four” and am told “no it’s five” – well as I say it’s infuriating.

While I don’t have final figures yet it looks to me like we will end up 20% over budget. The contractor promises that when he sells or mortgages his property he will give us some money. It might happen but I’m not holding my breath. He’s actually not a bad guy but got in way over his head.

Conclusions: Assuming you still want to own a house in the Philippines after having read all these blog posts, here are my recommendations:

  1. Buy an existing house. There are plenty of “foreigner houses” for sale throughout the Philippines and often for good prices.
  2. If you must build your own dream house, function as your own contractor. Hire an engineer and or foreman to run the project, while you do the purchasing. You will spend a year or more of your life going crazy, but it is probably the safest way.
  3. Did I mention that you can buy an existing house here and let your wife remodel it?

A funny (in my warped way) story: We did know for months that our contractor was in financial trouble because he kept listing stuff for sale on FB Marketplace. Generally it was stuff I would have no interest in but a few weeks back he listed a high end Canon camera with a couple lenses; a model that would have been a professional model a few years back. I like photography but sold my Nikon gear before I moved here. BTW, when I worked at Intel there were practically fights in the hallways over the Nikon vs. Canon debate. Shows you what nerdy engineers will get excited about.

I sent him a message. “Why don’t you just give the camera to me, as part of what you owe me.” He agreed, but could I give him a little bit to pay off the last of the workers. I agreed. When Janet and I inspected the camera I asked, “How long have you owned this?” “Eight months,” was his reply. Janet and I caught each other’s eye. I knew I was basically getting back the camera I had paid for.

So, I don’t have a house yet but I do have a nice camera.

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Why the Hell Would You Buy a Lot in the Philippines – More Tips and Landmines

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I should once again make clear that I am not a contractor and know little about house construction in the U.S. or the Philippines. I should also say again that despite any complaints I might have, our workers work hard and, let’s face it, work hard for small pay.

The following are more layman’s observations.

Can Anyone Count?

While in our last episode I complained that our contractor never bought all the materials needed, in this episode I will complain about the corollary. Now that we have taken over purchasing, we have asked all the key people (including the contractor) for lists of material needs. This has worked much better but still can be a nightmare. “We need 120 of this color tile, Sir.” So Janet and I dutifully buy 120 only to be told a week later that we need another 80. Counts are consistently not just a little off but 50-75% off. When I have time I count myself but sometimes I just get the number requested and go ballistic when I discover that someone simply couldn’t count. The conclusion: make your own count or resign yourself to the fact that you will be returning to the store multiple times for the same item.

The reverse is also true. “We need X,” I am told only to discover days later that boxes or bags of X already existed, buried under something else. It’s not the end of the world, but annoying as hell.

Finishing Something

I really don’t consider myself to be too anal (no comments). For the last 23 years in the US I lived in two old homes and accepted their flaws and imperfections. What I find in construction here in the Philippines is that nothing is ever finished 100% before the crew is moved to another task. I would estimate that our project is 80-85% completed but there is no one area that I can point to and say, “This is finished.” Painting is maybe 75% done, tile 95%, electrical 80%, plumbing 75%, etc. etc. But it seems that for whatever reasons nothing is ever completely finished before the crew is moved to another task. I am sure there are some reasons for this, such as materials running out. But in general there seems to be an “it’s almost finished” attitude that permeates. Yesterday I was told that the closets were painted and finished. When I looked I pointed to unpainted spots and areas covered with paint dust that should be cleaned. “It’s mostly finished, but not completely finished,” I said. “But it’s basically finished,” I was again told. This becomes particularly sticky when a pakyaw worker wants to get paid.

We had a welder on pakyaw for the past month. In fact he contracted to do 4 separate pakyaws. Each time he would finish 90% of the work and move to the next assignment, because that was where the money was, assuring us he’d come back and finish the previous job. When all four were 90% done and almost all the money paid out he was told to go back and finish. He spent a couple days halfheartedly finishing the assignments and doing poor work. By the end of the day Janet and I handed him a few more pesos and told him he was done. I spent my Sunday morning finishing some of what he hadn’t. It’ll get done but will just take some time and wear and tear on my ancient body.

The conclusion: Whenever possible make sure that something is done before moving to the next assignment. And don’t do pakyaws.

Do You Want Paint to Go With (or On) Your Tile?

We knew from observation and hearing stories that in the Philippines tile is laid down before the house is painted and the tile is rarely covered. From early on in the project we asked the contractor to schedule the project so that the tile came a little later but if he couldn’t do that to lay down plastic or something to project the tile. He agreed.

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Sure enough the tile went down first and despite numerous complaints nothing was done to protect it. The view is that it’s easy to clean later but the fact is that it is not. The contractor’s view is “it’s water based paint. It’ll clean up easily.”

The same attitude seems prevalent everywhere. If you have to step on, scratch or damage someone else’s work so that you can perform your work, then that’s what you do. I have given up on complaining about it. We will clean it and fix it as best as we can as we go along or at the end of the project. Janet already plans to have the kids come to Valencia on October break to clean.

Be Careful of Friends and Associates:

One of the advantages of the Philippines is its social nature. Everyone knows everyone. I swear that everyone in Dumaguete knows our contractor and visa versa. There are advantages to that and disadvantages.

The biggest disadvantage is how to discipline or even fire your friend, relative, or someone you go to church with. I know for a fact that there were people hired on the job because the contractor knew they needed money and not necessarily because they were the best person available. Now when it comes to general labor, this might be a good thing; someone motivated to work hard. But when it comes to the skill positions my preference would be for the most skilled person that can be obtained.

Supervision

One of the biggest differences between the construction of Janet’s small family house in Southern Cebu and the construction of this larger house in Valencia is supervision. Janet had no contractor in Cebu and functioned as her own contractor, but she did have Boy, an older Foreman who was on the site 5-6 days/week. While there were exceptions he mostly made things flow smoothly.

On our project a Foreman was hired but for only two days/week. I questioned that decision from the get go but was told that between the Foreman and the Contractor there would be plenty of supervision. Wrong! It was quite common for the majority of a day to go by without a supervisor onsite. Workers made their best decisions but sometimes didn’t know what to do. And of course unsupervised they did not do their best work. I complained constantly but there was never a real solution.

When Janet and I took over direct supervision of the project the first thing we did was ask the Foreman whether he could give us any more of his time for the remainder of the project. We like him and find him competent. Happily, he said he could do 3.5 – 4 days/week. Since then things seem to flow smoother and frankly the Foreman seems happier. He’s actually allowed to use his skills.

The conclusion is obvious and not unique to the Philippines. Get a good Foreman and hand him the reigns.

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Best of Dumaguete Restaurants

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Janet and I have always been restaurant people. For the four years she lived in Portland, Oregon it was our primary form of outside entertainment. We weren’t fancy restauranteurs, spending hundreds of dollars, but we enjoyed our favourite restaurants many many times.

When we moved to Dumaguete we continued our habit. Since I was retired by then and most restaurants in Dumaguete are cheap our habit got even more engrained. We almost always went out for either lunch or dinner, occasionally doing both. So while I don’t want to pretend we know every restaurant in town, we know a lot of them. So here are various categories and our favourites, including comments on price and service. BTW, we are not giant eaters so often share an entree (maybe adding a salad) which keeps prices even lower and our addiction to restaurants higher.

I should also add that we’ve never been ultra sophisticated eaters so things like high end wines, continental cuisine, or $50 steaks are not areas we’re worried about. We target places with good food, good prices and service that doesn’t keep us at the restaurant all night.

Best Italian Restaurant: Pasta King. Kind of an easy one. While many Dumaguete restaurants have some Italian food, and some of it’s good, not many are strictly Italian restaurants. Almost all the pasta dishes I’ve had here have been good to very good. The pizza is decent though not Dumaguete’s best (see below), the service is above average, and the prices are decent. In addition there’s a small parking lot next to the restaurant and at the early times we usually go (I’m an old fart, after all) there is usually available parking. In addition, one of their few non-Italian dishes is one of Dumaguete’s best (see below). https://www.facebook.com/pages/Pasta-King/103534199784843

Best Japanese Restaurant: Mifune. Another slam dunk. There’s a couple Japanese restaurants here and some sushi places and a noodle place (Ichiraku) that’s decent but no one can touch Mifune. A huge menu, very good food, large portions, saki if that’s your need, good miso soup and tempura. They have it all. Two nights a week there’s an all you can eat buffet. We can’t eat enough to justify the buffet, so we stick to the other nights, but the buffet is very good and popular. Besides, the place reminds me of my favourite samurai actor, Toshiro Mifuni. We go monthly and on those occasions when Janet goes to visit the family and leaves me alone, I try to make a stop at Mifune. It’s downtown, a block off the boulevard so parking can be tough. The prices are just a spec higher than Duma average, but it’s a deal for what you get. https://www.facebook.com/mifunedumaguete/?__tn__=%2Cd%2CP-R&eid=ARCnZlwx_2LrwpEBhQqsE3QFyKQ2UxgOU0lvsDpWr61pfT-Kcg9Eo3-Qp4SPKJF87OV1dlyrmA07bs0-

Best Filipino Restaurant: Lantaw Native Restaurant. As a kano, I probably have no right to weigh in on this but we’ve been to Lantaw dozens of times: just the two of us, with friends, for parties, etc. Since the place is always packed I don’t think we are alone in our fondness for Lantaw. The food is strictly Filipino; you’re not gonna find Western food for some finicky tourist. The quality is typically good or better. The prices are very good. There’s a nice view of the beach. Most importantly the San Mig is very cold.

The only negative in our view is that the place is so popular there are many loud tourist groups that come and dominate the restaurant. https://www.facebook.com/Lantaw-Dumaguete-798376510295211/

Two Honorable Mention: Gerrys Restaurant: If Lantaw is cheap, Gerry’s is not. But the food is good. I get the chicken skewers nearly every time I am there.

Mooon Cafe. While the style of the restaurant is Mexican (though the Mexican food is not great) the Filipino food is good. It’s sort of all over the place with pasta (not bad), and several inexpensive steak offerings for when you really want a steak but don’t want to spend the cash for a steak. I mean Filet Mignon for 300P? Mostly stick with the Filipino food, though the onion rings are good (make sure to ask them make them crispy). https://www.facebook.com/moooncafedumaguete/

Best Pan Asian: KRI. A variety of different asian styles; everything I’ve had there is good or better. The portions are not huge so Janet and I need two entrees. The prices are a bit high. But the atmosphere is nice and the food creative and of high quality.

Best Barbecue Ribs: Lord Byron. Lord Byron always had the best ribs in town but they were located in a place that no one knew existed. Since their relocation near Siliman University, they’ve become more popular. The menu is sparse, with only a few items, mostly their ribs and their hamburger. The rib platter is large enough for Janet and I to share happily. https://www.facebook.com/lordbyronsdumaguete/

Honorable Mention: The previously mentioned Pasta King also has a great ribs platter. Janet loves it but there’s no way she can finish it herself, so I happily help.

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Best High End Restaurant: Casablanca Restaurant. Yes, by Dumaguete standards it’s expensive. You can easily drop 1000P or more for a couple; if you want a steak double or triple that price. As I mentioned before, Janet and I often share an entree which at Casablanca is typically enough for the two of us. Because of cost we probably treat ourselves 4 or 5 times a year. They are also well known for holiday specials: we’ve gone there for Thanksgiving dinner the last two years. It’s spendy but the liver pate they had two years ago reminded me of home! On the boulevard the view is nice as well. Treat yourself once in a while. It’s worth it! https://www.facebook.com/dumaguete.casablanca/

Best Pizza: Esturya Tapas and Bar. I’m a pizza lover, particularly fond of New York style pizza. There is no New York pizza in Dumaguete, and possibly none to speak of in the entire country. However, there are places that make West Coast brick oven style pizza. Esturya is an up and coming restaurant with a varied menu but they are perhaps best know for their pizza. We love the 4 topping variety: no not 4 toppings all over the pizza but 4 varieties all on the same pie. It’s the West Coast thin crust pizza, so I am still jonesing for thicker New York style, but for what it is, it is very good. The prices are decent, the restaurant atmosphere is upscale (by Dumaguete standards) and there are a few parking spaces in front. The service is typically excellent. https://www.facebook.com/esturyabarandrestaurant/

Honorable Mention: This one’s a surprise but the brick oven pizza at Bambulo Resort is nearly as good as Esturya. That may be because we swim there and after a dip in the pool a pizza and beer tastes great. Prices are good, as is the push a button service. https://www.facebook.com/BambuloBacong/

Update: I forgot South Beach Grill, which has a good brick oven pizza and other fine items.

Best Bagel: Rolling Pin.There are few options in this category but Rolling Pin makes a decent bagel. No, it’s not a New York water bagel, but it’s far better than just a piece of bread with a hole in the middle. Their other breads and pastries are also good. Prices are excellent, and service is good. They sometimes sell on Sundays in the Valencia Market, though usually by the time I get there the bagels are gone. https://www.facebook.com/RollinPinDumaguete/

Best Breads: The bakery at Octagon Sports Bar. In Bacong it’s a bit out of the way for us but whenever we are close we try to stop by. Very good breads and pastries.

Honorable Mention: The previously mentioned Rolling Pin.

Best Submarine/Steak Sandwiches: Gie Gies Sports Bar. A simple sports bar, Gie Gies has basic and mostly good bar food. But their hoagies/heros/subs (or whatever you call them in your part of the world) are good and large. The fries used to be excellent but recently changed to shoe string types – not quite as good. But to make up for it, try the potato salad. https://www.facebook.com/giegiessportsbar/

Best Bar Food: Grumpy’s. I’ve just started eating there and 3 or 4 times would typically not be enough to list a restaurant, but everything we’ve had there has been good. It’s a simple bar with a popular Open Mike on Saturdays but the food is basic, plentiful and good.https://www.facebook.com/Grumpys-Tavern-309845783047448/

Best Fried Chicken: Sunburst Restaurant. Another surprise because behind Robinsons it doesn’t look like much . But the fried chicken is very good; certainly a step or two above fast food fried chicken. The prices are not bad. It comes with a strange cole slaw which I kinda like and three (count ’em) three french fries. Janet gives me her fries; nice asawa! https://www.facebook.com/Sunburst.Dgte/

Best Tacos/Burritos: Paco’s Tacos. People just know it as the taco cart in Valencia but this is your best chance to get American style Mexican food: tacos, burritos, nachos, fajitas, breakfast burritos, etc. All are very good and the prices are good too. Seating is outdoors and limited; it is a cart after all. https://www.facebook.com/pacos.ph/

Honorable Mention: I don’t know how I can give out an Honorable Mention to a place I haven’t been to but everyone says Senoritas at the airport is excellent. Damn, I have to get there!

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I’M Here – You don’t need to Follow :)

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It’s deja vu all over again. 44 years ago I moved to Portland, Oregon. At the time Portland was a hot bed, a hub. Young people from all over the US were moving there. Middle aged Californians were selling their overpriced houses and with the profit, buying a Portland house with cash. It was a flood of humanity that everyone assumed would end – but it never did.

The first few years I was there I assumed I would move “back home.” Back home was the East Coast. But after 2 or 3 years in Portland I stopped thinking about moving “back home.” In fact an interesting thing happened; after those 2 or 3 years I started thinking of Portland as “home.”

The next step was even more interesting. I started to resent the throngs that kept moving to Portland, ruining “our home.” In the 70s there was a popular bumper sticker in Oregon that read, “Don’t Californicate Oregon,” and I was a big proponent of that philosophy. I had my Oregon dream; the rest of you could go somewhere else (hell, came to mind).

So what does this all have to do with Dumaguete and Valencia where we now live. About a week ago were were waiting for the ferry to take us from Cebu back “home” to Dumaguete. We were tired and wanted to get home. The port was mobbed and Janet was told that one ferry was broken and so the other ferry was taking people back and forth and therefore we had to wait for the next trip. The wait would easily be an hour. I looked around at my fellow waiters – and sneered. There were back packers all over. What the hell do backpackers want to come to Dumaguete for, I wondered. There aren’t any white sand beaches where a backpacker can pitch a tent. The place, while not expensive, is not a cheap backpacker haven. And Filipinos here are pretty cleanly and even use deodorant. So what the hell are backpackers doing coming to spoil my lovely little city?

And then I spied a group of Chinese tourists. Each wheeled a piece of luggage the size of a small boat. Why would they leave the more metropolitan Cebu for our sleepy little city? Again no white sand beaches to sun bathe on. There’s not even a decent Chinese restaurant; no offence to one of our faves, Chin Loong, which can’t decide whether it’s a Chinese or Filipino restaurant.

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They all loaded on the ferry and those of us without a ticket (waiting for the next ferry run) watched them sail away. Again I sneered. I’m usually a fairly nice guy but I imagined the ferry in those choppy waters, might well, sink. Then I amended my fantasy. I didn’t want to see anything bad happen to my fellow residents of Dumaguete. Perhaps, I thought, the ferry could sink only on the side carrying the backpackers and tourists.

And then I realised it was official; Dumaguete was our home. We made it here, we are settled here and building a house. I suppose the expats that were already here when we arrived a year and a half ago can stay. But for anyone new? The place it a shithole and you don’t want to come. Stay away! You have been warned.

Now just as with Portland 44 years ago I know my fantasy will not happen. How could it, when magazines and websites declare Dumaguete to be the best place to retire in the Philippines. They should check out Portland, Oregon. I hear it’s a pretty nice place to retire.

I’m not a bad person – really I’m not. But perhaps those magazine and website writers could take a ferry ride and have just a little accident.

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How Much Cash for a House in the Philippines?

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Here’s an addendum to my interminable series, Why the Hell Would You Buy a Lot in the Philippines. The most common question I get asked is – how much?

Now, if you’ve followed this blog much you will notice that I try very hard not to talk specifics about money. I suppose it’s the generation in which I was raised, where you weren’t supposed to talk about money. When my son was a kid and even as a teenager, he frequently tried to find out how much I earned.  I never told him. He’s a young software/hardware engineer now and I suspect it won’t be long before he earns more than I ever did. I will continue not to tell him what I made – but now out of embarrassment!

But I understand why people are asking how much. Maybe you are considering building a house for your retirement in the Philippines, or a house for your wife’s family, or a shack on the beach. Maybe you already live here and are genuinely curious what it would cost. And maybe you’re looking for a loan from me lol!

While Janet and I still won’t be telling you exactly what we spent, I will try here to give you some details to help you make a determination of what it might cost you.

The overall theme here is that range of home costs are determined in ways not dissimilar from the way you might determine it in your home country. The old saying “location, location, location” applies to the Philippines, just as it does to your Western country.

Property: Everything is priced per square meter. I’ve seen lots in the provinces go for 200P/sq. meter and even less. I have also seen lots here in Valencia go for 6000P/sq. meter and more. The cost difference rationales are similar to your home countries. Factors include town or city, lot location, size of lot, beach property, overlooking property, and are the sellers desperate or not, etc.  Additional factors to consider include road location. We found a number of cheap lots in Valencia where there was no direct access to a road, but a contracted right of way. While these lots were invariably much cheaper, in the end we decided we had to have direct road access. So the conclusion is that you can get a cheap lot in the provinces with right of way access or a luxury beach front lot for big bucks.

House Construction: There are many variables here including size, construction style (native, Western or luxury Western), number of stories, and where you are building. Just as with the lot, house building is generally priced based on a price per square meter.  Construction ranges here from about 10k pesos/square meter – 25k pesos/square meter. I’ve known some guys who have done it for less than 10k, but assume that the houses at that price were very simple. Realistically in the Dumaguete area I would estimate 14k and up for a “foreigner home.” There are certainly luxury houses here over the 25k peso range but those probably include items I can’t imagine or high end Western fixtures and finishing.

When calculating the number of square meters for a house in the Philippines, understand that things like patios, balconies, car ports, etc. will be considered part of the total square meters here. In our case, the house we are building in Valencia is 180 square meters plus a 10 square meter balcony on the 2nd floor. So that equals 190 square meters of house. So don’t be surprised when the 180 sq. meter house you designed is priced based on over 200 sq. meters because you have a car port, balcony, etc.

When talking about a “foreigner” house the biggest cost factor (and possibly the biggest headache factor) may well be the finishing. Finishing work in the Philippines is generally considered everything but the actual structure. This means doors, windows, bathroom fixtures, kitchen fixtures and appliances, tile, paint, air conditioners, lighting, etc. The finishing work on a higher end “foreigner” house can be 50% of the project. So you can therefore save money or spend lots more depending on the type and quality of interior finishing you want.

One other factor is whether you hire a contractor or do the job yourself. As I’ve mentioned often, Janet functioned as her own contractor for the house in Alcoy but for our house in Valencia we have a contractor.

If you have a contractor, the finishing work is generally negotiated into the price, but we did interview one contractor who split the job between the basic building of the structure (which the contractor handled) and the finishing work (which the owner took care of). If the contractor is handling everything, you will want to be very specific about your requirements. Don’t expect him to understand that you need 3 AC units and all Moen fixtures.

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Also remember that there are some additional costs that either you will pay or that you may factor into your contract. These costs include blueprints and permitting costs. And of course most people in the Philippines want some sort of fence or wall surrounded their property and a gate to enter. This can add considerably to your cost, depending on the size of your lot.

There’s one other factor to mention, although I am reticent to do so. We all have different notions of what is acceptable housing. I know guys who brag about how inexpensive their house was to build or what a cheap rent they have. I go into the house, look around and think, “you couldn’t pay me to live here.” On the flip side I’ve seen 15-20 million peso mansions and I again shake my head. In short you have to know yourself well enough to know what is necessary for you to have, nice to have, or unnecessary and price and build a home accordingly.

So there you have it. The lot can cost nearly any price and so can the house. It’s the Philippines and you have many options.

BTW, I have been posting videos of the construction process in Valencia. For those interested in following the progress, you can see the videos starting here.

Addendum to the Addendum: While I covered some of the specifics of the two houses being built in other posts in the series, they aren’t here, so I thought I would capture them.

House #1 (Family house): Location – Alcoy, Cebu. Lot size – 500 sq. meters. House size – 70 sq. meters. 4 small bedrooms, 1 bathroom, small porch, 1 small kitchen. The family built a dirty kitchen outside the interior kitchen.

House #2 (Our House): Location – Valencia, Negros Oriental. Lot size – 1355 sq. meters. House size – 180 sq. meters + 10 sq. meter deck on 2nd floor (yes, it’s a 2 story house). 4 bedrooms (including master), 3 bathrooms (including master), living room, dining room, kitchen, sala area on 2nd floor. Concrete and iron wall around the perimeter of the property. In addition there will be a 20 sq. meter shop at the back of the property.

I should add that we agreed with our contractor that all fixtures and amenities should be purchasable in the Dumaguete area. This is significant because I know guys who used imported tiles, plumbing and fixtures. If you require all Western brands or the best there is, you have to realistically expect the price to go up – way up. Now, we will end up with nice tile, bathroom fixtures, etc. but I’m not expecting my contractor to pay for imported Italian marble lol.

2nd Addendum to the Addendum: For those genuinely interested or beginning the process of building a home who need more information or details, feel free to email me through the contact page on this blog or through Facebook, if we’re FB friends.