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Why the Hell Would You Buy a Lot in the Philippines – PART 2

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In Part 1, I discussed some of the reasons that guys cannot and should not buy lots in the Philippines. Since Janet and I have purchased not one, but two lots here, I thought I would discuss why and how it all came about.

When Janet and I married in the U.S. we had many discussions about how she wanted to help her family. Whether married or in a serious relationship with a Pinay, you will discover that she is driven, like salmon going upstream to spawn, to help her family. Guys who think otherwise are  delusional. Nonetheless, how to help and how much is very much subject to negotiation, debate and sometimes even argument; but whether or not you are going to help should be accepted as a done deal.

After many such discussions (but hopefully not too many arguments)  it turned out that Janet’s greatest desire was to help her family by buying a lot and ultimately building a house for them. As the practical and wise (aka old) Westerner I stuck to the nuts and bolts; how much could a lot be purchased for in Southern Cebu. I encouraged Janet to save monthly from her paycheck and that I would help her do so. To her surprised (though not mine) she hit her goal every month for 2 1/2 years and saved the targeted amount of money. As I’ve said before, I am very proud of her!

In the meantime every time we came back to the Philippines, we looked for property. This is a very different process while living in the U.S. Yes, there are real estate agents, particularly in the larger cities, but in the Provinces, it’s much more like someone knows someone who’s knows someone who is a cousin to someone who might want to sell a lot, though it’s not listed anywhere.

The first lot we saw was owned by neighbors of Janet’s parents. I knew enough about the Philippines to know that clear title is very important. Often 5 or 10 people jointly own the property so getting clear title can be difficult if not impossible. The sellers said they were the owners and could come up with the title. “Great!” we said. The price was right and the lot was more than adequate. We left the Philippines thinking we might have found the lot. But the next week, the owners came to Janet’s parents and asked them for 5000 pesos – money they needed to come up with the title. That ended our interest in that lot and sellers.

The next year we saw an even better lot. It was much too large for our purposes but the owner agreed to cut off a piece of the lot and have the proper title created. Again, we were excited. The lot had a view of the ocean; hell, I would have liked it for myself. Again, we returned to the U.S. thinking we had found the one.

Communications with the “owner” were difficult and finally he told us that he actually wasn’t the owner; his brother was. His brother, we were told, lived in the U.S. “Great,” I said. “Then give me his phone number and I will call him.”

“No, you can’t do that,” said the brother. “But not to worry. The owner’s wife is here in the Philippines and she has Power of Attorney.”

“So let me get this straight, ” I said. “You’re not the owner but I have to negotiate with you and the documents will be signed by the real owner’s wife, even though he lives in the U.S.?”

“Right.”

“No thanks,” we said, and that was that. Of course we were eventually to realize that you almost never deal with the real owner (assuming there’s only one) initially.  In the future when meeting an “owner” my first question was always “are you the true owner?” and if the answer was ‘yes’ came back with, “are you the only owner?” Rarely did I get a ‘yes’ answer to both questions.

Tip 1: Make sure in buying property you are dealing with the owner or the owner’s representative. However, understand that if you are not it doesn’t necessarily mean the situation is fatally flawed, though it often is.

After our two failures buying property in Cebu, Janet and I determined that we would wait until we actually lived in the Philippines before trying again. That proved to be a wise decision.

Tip 2: Think long and hard before buying property in the Philippines while you are located in your home country.

Shortly after Janet and I moved to Dumaguete, Janet’s mother told her of property available. The lot was large but the “owner” was willing to parcel out a segment. Janet and her parents knew the “owner” and we went to Southern Cebu to look at the lot. The price was right, the lot was adequate, and the “owner” allowed Janet to select the 500 sq. meters she wanted and we left with a verbal agreement. Things were actually progressing.

It is a buying viagra in canada medical condition when a man is unable to get erection. The pill will not http://amerikabulteni.com/2012/01/16/wikipedia-go-dark-on-wednesday-to-protest-sopa-progress-in-congress/ discount viagra work and get you erections only by grabbing the pill. It implies that she is at least one type of therapy that does go to the root causes of impotence? order viagra does not cure erectile dysfunction. cialis does not solve the root causes of male impotence, although if the cause is primarily psychological, it may help to get strong erection naturally as it reduces the problem of poor alertness and poor brain functions. Stress leads to various amerikabulteni.com levitra price in india problems in the life of a man. Janet was determined to do things right and completely legal. This is by no means always done in the Philippines. As I suggested earlier, the owner doesn’t always have the legal title and the documentation necessary to get the legal title is extensive. Janet had done her research and we had consulted with an attorney. Janet sent the “owner” a list of the documents we required to transfer ownership to Janet. The owner said “no problem.”

But it was a problem. We made it clear that as soon as Janet had all the documentation, we would have an attorney draw up a deed of sale and pay cash for the lot. Yet weeks went by before the “owner” provided any of the half dozen or so requirement documents. The first thing the “owner” provided was a copy of the title; a copy that showed that he was not the actual owner – his daughter was. Dramatic texts went back and forth explaining why his daughter was the actual owner on record; in fact the original owner had been the man’s mother who passed it along to her granddaughter before she died.

Janet and I considered whether to run from the deal but the explanation made a weird sort of Philippines-style sense and besides, Janet had already spent a little bit of money, since the man we now realized was the owner’s father had insisted that Janet pay for the official survey of the property.

It took nearly 6 months for the man to come up with all the documentation necessary to draw up a deed of sale. Janet was furious at his procrastination and he was furious with Janet, always saying that “no one else is asking for all these documents.”

Just a couple weeks before we were ready for the signing Janet got a weird message from the “actual owner” (the daughter). They wanted more money, to compensate them for the extra expenses they had to come up with the documents. Janet angrily replied that we had a deal and the deed of sale and all documentation had already been written at the sale price. Janet asked if this meant the deal was off if we didn’t pay more. “Yes,” she was told.

Even more angry Janet replied that, “We’ve already paid thousands of pesos for the survey and a lawyer!” Surprisingly the “real owner” replied that they would refund that survey expense and if Janet’s mother went to her father’s (the previously considered owner) store he would give it to her.

The next day, Janet’s  mom went to the store to get the refund. The father said, “Don’t worry. We’re going through with the deal.”

A couple weeks later we signed the documents in front of an attorney. The daughter looked pissed, the father looked pissed, Janet looked pissed, and I sure as hell was pissed. Directly after the signing I announced to Janet, “I’m getting a drink.”

—————————————-

When you buy property in the Philippines there are a few fees and taxes involved in the transfer of title. There is a Capital Gains Tax of 6% and a Documentary Stamp Tax of 1.5%. Now while who pays this is negotiable between seller and buyer in this case because of the cheap price Janet had agreed to pay the taxes.

The taxes are paid at the local Bureau of Internal Revenue (BIR) and the rule is that you must pay the greater of: the sale price on the Deed of Sale; or the assessed value of the property. Unfortunately when Janet went to the BIR she found out that the assessed value of the lot was higher than the actual sale price. Ca-Ching!

Tip 3:  Make sure you know what the tax will cost and who will pay it, to avoid surprises.

But Janet paid and we did now own a lot in the Philippines.

In Part 3, I’ll describe how we bought a lot for Janet and I to live in. Yes, this is becoming an epic tale.

 

 

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One “Starving” Dog in the Philippines

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One issue that angers many expats in the Philippines is the way they perceive dogs are treated here. I have a different view which may piss a few people off – but we’ll get to that.

When Janet and I first moved into our rental house in Valencia there were a handful of dogs that roamed the street. They’re often referred to as askals. One in particular was tiny, bony and emaciated. He looked like he hadn’t had a good meal in forever and would be no match for the other dogs when it came to fighting over scraps. We saw him regularly for a couple months, and almost ran over him a couple of times. Eventually we stopped seeing him and speculated that he’d passed away.

There are untold numbers of stray dogs here plus millions of dogs with owners who nonetheless live most of their lives outdoors, returning home for the occasional table scraps, if table scraps are available. In a country in which millions of people struggle to feed their families it should come as no surprise that animals aren’t lavished with streaks and kibble.

The reality is that outside the two major cities, the Philippines is an agrarian country. If I take a 10 minute walk on my suburban street on any given morning I will pass by 10 cows, an equal number of goats, pigs, countless chickens and roosters, occasionally a horse, and a large number of dogs and cats. They are outside, roaming the streets, making noise, doing what animals do. The cows and goats are usually (but not always) tied up. Animals graze wherever their owners take them, which sometimes means somebody’s lot. Janet and I are in the process of purchasing a lot (more on that in the future) and we have visited said lot to see a couple of cows happily grazing there. Since no cow pooper scoopers exist, we have to tread cautiously.

In my experience most people do their best to care for their animals but their best might not be up to Western standards and frankly animals here are treated like animals. People in the Philippines generally buy animals for economic or gastrointestinal reasons (aka – to eat). Janet’s father has roosters and chickens and  takes very good care of them but once in a while we will be having dinner and Janet will mention that dinner is one of Dad’s chickens.

So let’s get back to the title of this opus, One “Starving” Dog in the Philippines. When we first moved to the Philippines about a year ago I noticed that there was a dog hanging around Janet’s family home. He looked to be in bad shape, all skin and bone and ribs. Knowing Janet’s family it was hard to believe they would let a dog starve. In fact her family is very generous and I have never had a meal there in which at least one child from the neighborhood wasn’t also eating. In short no one is ever turned away. I finally mustered up the courage to cautiously ask Janet what was the story with the dog; I didn’t want her to feel that I was insulting her family, but by that point I was used to seeing hungry dogs in the Philippines.

“He used to be my Lolo’s (grandfather’s) but he was given to my Dad.” Lolo is now 89 and had gotten to the point that he could no longer care for the dog. At some point the dog got into a fight with another dog and was on the losing end of the affair and was carved up pretty severely. Janet said the fight was over a female dog who was apparently ger gering (take a wild guess) both combatants! It’s the way of the world for every species; men fighting over women whom they get or hope to ger ger.

Now there is no way in hell that Janet’s family can afford a veterinarian, let alone surgical procedures on a dog. So it was determined that the dog would be allowed to fend for itself. He would either survive or he would not. Over the months the dog’s gained weight and now looks like a normal Philippines dog, which means he runs into the house and everyone yells and shoos him out 🙂
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I also have to add that instead of judging we should remember that it wasn’t much different years back in my home country.  I am old enough to remember the dog catchers picking up strays. Even as a kid I was sharp enough to know they weren’t taking them for a home cooked meal. Even today in the US, 2.7 million animals are euthanized annually because no one adopts them. So it’s a problem everywhere. We’re just able to hide it in pounds and animal shelters and dispose of the unwanted.

Growing up, my concept of the ultimate dog was Lassie.  Now there was a dog! But Lassie lived on a farm, where she had free reign, as well as free reign over the entire town. There didn’t seem to be anything that happened in that community that Lassie didn’t know about, often running back to grab that idiot Timmy to save someone.  That was our image of idyllic life in the 50s and our image of how a dog should live.

Today, dogs in the US may be spoiled but they live cooped up indoors, mostly seeing the light of day for their morning daily walk/crap. I wrote in my last blog entry, Noise Pollution in the Philippines, about how I had fenced in my yard so that my dog would have a nice play to run, play and bark, only to find out that many neighbors weren’t thrilled with a running, playing and barking dog. Of course she was well fed. But just as I am living a life now in the Philippines where I might be subjected to more risk and a shorter but happier life, I can’t help but speculate whether my dog would have been happier as an outdoor Lassie rather than a fat and slightly lonely American.

All this said, the sight of malnourished dogs does sadden me, just as the sight of a malnourished child saddens and horrifies me. But I know there’s no one easy person or persons to point the finger at.

 

 

 

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Noise Pollution in the Philippines

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When expats complain about the Philippines (a favorite activity here) many of the complaints fall under the general category of “noise pollution.”

By comparison to their Western home countries, noise pollution is everywhere and includes: every animal in the Philippines, karaoke, loud stereos, excessive horn usage, and even loud talking. Some Westerners, used to the quiet  of their country of origin (a quiet enforced by the cops), struggle with a society that makes no attempt to remain quiet. Frankly, quiet here is downright un-Filipino.

When I hear expats complain about noise pollution my first thought is ” did you visit the Philippines before you moved here?” There is not a corner of this country in which you will not be awakened to the sound of roosters. I always loved the Dylan line, “When the roosters crow at the break of dawn, look out your window and I’ll be gone.” Dylan doesn’t know squat about roosters. They don’t crow at dawn; they crow whenever the hell they feel like it.

Frankly, I like roosters. When I would visit the Philippines as a tourist I would love the roosters on the first morning. It felt like I’d arrived home. OK, let’s acknowledge that I’m nuts.

Dogs are ubiquitous here. People let them roam their property or roam the streets. They bark like, well, dogs. They shit where they want. This is sort of the way it was when I was a kid in the U.S. (yes, I am that old). Pooper scoopers did not exist. People did not walk my neighborhood with their dog in tow and a plastic baggie on their hands. As a pedestrian it was your responsibility to avoid the dog shit. I guess some people think it’s progress.

And back then dogs barked. As a kid there was a German Shepherd two doors from us. When you passed their home the damn Nazi barked at you and slammed into the front window, testing it for weaknesses. Few kids in the neighborhood ever went into their home, despite the fact that the family daughter was smoking hot. During the summer she occasionally came to our place to swim in the pool. No way I was going to her place no matter how good she looked in a bathing suit.

When I was a middle aged divorced dad with two kids, I bought a dog for the kids. Spent real money to fence in the back yard for the dog. She loved it and when I took her out there she ran and ran and barked her head off. The other neighborhood dogs in their fenced in yards barked as well. They were having a high time. That is until I got the call or text from a neighbor telling me that my dog was barking and they were having difficulty concentrating on Masterpiece Theater. I liked my neighbors so in came the dog. If she was lucky she got a half hour run/bark session. I know what you’re thinking – why didn’t I take her to a dog park like every other responsible dog owner. Because I had spent $300k for my own home so that dogs and kids and possums and squirrels could act like animals and kids.

In the Philippines if you tell your neighbor that his dog is barking too much and keeping you from enjoying Antiques Roadshow they will react by…well I don’t know but I sure want to be there to see it!
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Karaoke and music: If you’re married to a Pinay you certainly should be aware of the country’s love for singing and music. There’s simply no understanding the concept that it disturbs your peace any more than the concept that it’s your neighbors’ fault if you stepped in his dog’s crap.

I know guys who have complained to neighbors about late night singing, though come to think of it, I haven’t heard from them lately. It might be cheaper and better for your health to buy a good pair of noise cancelling ear buds.

Motorcycle and car horns: I have written about this but horn usage is the primary method of vehicular communication in the Philippines. People honk to tell you they’re passing. People honk to tell you they’d like to pass but can’t till you get the hell out of the way. People honk at night to tell you that’s it’s cheaper to honk at you rather than turn on their headlights.

People honk in front of our house a lot. It’s the one thing Janet does not like about our rental home. Our bedroom is very close to the road. The road curves there and it’s sort of a blind curve, so drivers honk before entering the curve just in case someone is coming the other way. It’s very polite of them really, except Janet wakes up and wants to do a lot more than honk at them; I suspect a bolo would be involved.

And finally, Filipinos can be loud. They are friendly and fun loving people and as they walk by your home they are talking, giggling laughing, singing and just having fun. Unfortunately they are not thinking, “Gee, I bet that foreigner is watching Masterpiece Theater. We’d better be quiet.”

Personally I prefer happy people making a bit of noise rather than quiet miserable people. I’d rather roosters do their thing (on my street I am just as likely to wake up to cows mooing than roosters crowing). There’s a lot worse things to hear at night than singing. Fortunately I’m a good sleeper and do own a pair of noise cancelling ear buds.

 

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Why I Won’t Take a Knee for the Philippines National Anthem

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It wasn’t long after we arrived in Dumaguete. Janet and I decided to go to the mall first thing when it opened at 10:00. Lots of stuff to get to fill our new apartment. We arrived a couple minutes before 10:00. There was a line at the Robinsons Mall entrance.  We parked in the lot and began walking toward the entrance. Suddenly outdoor loudspeakers began blaring music which I vaguely recognized as the Philippines National Anthem. Janet stopped but I kept walking. “Stop,” she yelled.

“Huh?”

“You can’t walk until after the National Anthem.”

“Really?” And then I noticed that other people had stopped.

About 30 seconds later the anthem finished and life continued. People started filing past the guard into the mall. That is the guard searched them and then allowed them into the mall.

In subsequent days I discovered that not only were you not allowed to walk during the anthem, if you were driving into the mall parking lot when the anthem was playing, you had to stop your car.

I saw that most people stood at attention or at least stood in a respectful way. They certainly didn’t dare talk during the anthem. Janet would shush me until I learned not to talk.

All this, while minor, was one more reason the Philippines is just plain different.

We just spent a couple of weeks back in the U.S. One reason was to see my daughter graduate. The ceremony was held in a large arena. As we awaited the ceremony I began to wonder whether, considering the recent controversies, the national anthem would be played. I looked at the program and sure enough the anthem was listed.

Now, I am not the big patriot type nor did I ever serve in the military. But I never thought that spending a minute on the national anthem was a terrible thing.

As the ceremony started and I awaited the National Anthem I wondered how people would react. Would there be any protests or taking of knees?  I’ve been long enough away from the U.S. that I just didn’t know.
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In reality people acted like they always act. The anthem began, led by a choir. People shuffled uncomfortably waiting for it to be over to get to the good stuff. No one objected but no one much joined in. In fact this is the way it’s been for decades in the U.S.

My recollection is that it was different when I was a kid. But once Kennedy was shot and there was a Vietnam War and another Kennedy was shot, as well as Dr. King; well there wasn’t a lot of point in singing patriotically. Plus by then I was a young adult and knew it was all bullshit.

Of course it isn’t all bullshit. Sure, it’s just a minor piece of symbolism but now that I am an old fart I kind of think it matters.  So at the graduation I sang; ok I mostly just moved my lips. After all, nobody else was singing.

Truth is as I have aged I occasionally regret that I wasn’t in the military. Maybe I should have joined the CIA. It’s probably just my latent desire to shoot somebody.

So, I kind of like the fact that Filipinos stand at attention for their anthem and expect me to do the same. There doesn’t seem to be the attitude of “Hey, I didn’t vote for Duterte, so why should I show any respect.”

Some expats think that Filipinos are too patriotic or just blindly follow. I’m not so sure. Is it really so bad to spend a minute showing respect for this country?

Of course I’m not stupid. There’s a guard in front of Robinsons and he’s got a gun and it’s quite possible the gun actually works. So I stand at attention.

 

 

 

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Has the U.S. Changed or Have I?

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Janet and I just returned from a two week whirlwind trip back to the U.S.  and we’re glad to be back home. Yes, I said home because Dumaguete is now home for us, not Portland.  Now, before I get into my standard wiseassed set of remarks about how I found life in the U.S., I should say that we loved seeing our family and friends and therefore don’t want the following to be considered criticism of our loved ones. That said, some of you are nuts 🙂

Here’s what struck me:

Friendliness: Our last flight on our long trip was a short prop plane hop from Seattle to Portland. As we were preparing to land they announced that there were two passengers with very tight connections and would everyone wait in their seats while the two passengers de-planed first. They repeated the request a few minutes later. Well you can guess the result. The moment the plane stopped at the gate half the people were up and in the aisle. Janet and I looked around, I shrugged and said, “Welcome back to the U.S.”

Attractiveness: I clearly have been ruined by the Philippines but most Americans struck me as – well, you know – butt ugly. And yes, I will acknowledge that you can throw me into that category also. Janet and I were in a mall and I sat down to wait for her; maybe 40 minutes. Bored to death I decided to count how many attractive people passed by me. Now, I’m not talking about 10s, or models or porn stars; just ordinarily attractive women or men. In 40 minutes the total was – zero. Ok, there were a couple of cute kids, but that’s it. Plenty of plump girls in undersized halter tops. Plenty of hideous tats and piercings. Plenty of guys holding up their shorts. But not one even vaguely attractive human being. If I sit down in Robinsons in Duma and watch for 40 minutes, small amounts of drool will start pouring down till Janet will feel the need to clean me up; that is after giving me a whack on the head.

Speaking of the malls,  when did they get this boring? On the flip side, the Walmart in Gresham, Oregon wasn’t as bad an experience as I recalled at other Walmarts and I actually (and I am not making this up) bought something there; a nice Kershaw knife. Civilization is coming to an end when Walmart beats the malls.

Weather: Portland weather is not usually the city’s biggest selling point, but my God it was June and several days didn’t break the 50s and most of the days were in the 60s. We did have a couple of nice 80s days, but they were aberrations. By the end I couldn’t wait to get back to Dumaguete heat and humidity. Thank God I can sweat again!

Eating: I was prepared or so I thought. I knew that the restaurant portions are larger than in Duma where let’s face it, restaurants have to feed small people, not gigantic Americans. But after a week we were ready to explode. Now, even in Dumaguete, Janet and I often share an entree; there’s a reason senior portions are smaller; we just can’t eat like we used to. But when we asked to share an entree in Portland we found that two full plates were delivered to us. The food was good of course but I simply could not keep up.

And at our friends’ home (they were kind enough to put us up and put up with me) the excess continued. Gallon ketchup bottles. A jug of mouthwash you could swim in. Now, that I live in a culture in which portions are usually enough for today, it was odd being back in a culture of excess. In the Philippines you can buy a Coke Sakto; Sakto loosely translates to “enough” or “good enough.” So a Coke Sakto is 4 ounces; enough to wet your whistle. In the U.S. 4 ounces is just enough to cause fighting in the streets.

Annual sales of all 3 ED drugs are a revelation for patients who are living with erectile Dysfunction Impotence condition causes strain on cialis discount canada a couple. This will make the users the possibilities of better pennies enlargement, production and ejaculation. cialis tadalafil generic The only mechanism cialis order required by the person is to stimulate the body. So buy levitra online if you’re experiencing erectile dysfunction, don’t be depressed as there are numerous ways to treat them is using natural ayurvedic supplements in the form sex tablets and oils. They’re All Mental: I was prepared but not really. Prepared because I knew how bad it had gotten before I left. That said I don’t watch what passes for the news in the U.S., avoid it all on FB and the other social media. I’d say I’m not interested in debate but the truth is I love debate. But none of what passes for political discourse in the United States could be called debate.

I tried everything to avoid. My go to strategy is usually to nod my head and ignore the conversation. Didn’t work. I’d try to change the subject. “Looks like cold and rain today,” I’d say. “Trump’s screwing with the weather,” would be the answer.

I even tried telling the truth. “You know I’m retired in the Philippines and don’t listen to the news much.” Or even more truth. “You know I’m retired in the Philippines so as long as my Social Security check clears, I don’t care.” Nothing worked.

In the end, I have my opinions, none of which have anything to do with politics but more with the stress and mental illness in my home country. While getting away from that is not the reason we moved to the Philippines it is a side benefit of the move.

All that said, I like my friends, love my loved ones, and will listen as long as they want to talk to me; of course as I listened I thought of getting back to my tropical paradise where right now I am happily de-stressing.

 

 

 

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Apparently “Mommy” and “Daddy” Are Rich

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As I have mentioned before, Janet comes from a large family of 10 children. Now that they all know me pretty well they each have their own names for me. Some call me “Kuya,” which means Uncle. Some skip the translation and just call me “Uncle” directly. And some call me “Daddy” or “Daddy Dave.”

Janet’s nomenclature is a bit more consistent. Everyone in the family either calls her “Mommy” or “Yaya”. Now “Yaya” should not be confused with the “Yaya” that means a child’s caregiver. It’s pretty common in the Philippines for parents to have a “Yaya” to care for the kid(s). But Janet’s “Yaya” is a term of respect. Now apparently they are pronounced differently. Janet and her siblings have tried to show me how “Yaya” sounds different from “Yaya” but honestly I can’t hear the difference.

But here’s where it all gets even stickier. I asked Janet the other day why all the various nicknames. She explained that “Mommy” and “Daddy” usually mean that the person is rich, which is why some of the kids call us that. “Momma” and “Papa” mean that the person is sort of ordinary and the traditional “Nanay” and “Tatay” mean – you ain’t getting much from them.

This confused me more. “Lots of people call your parents Mommy and Daddy and they’re certainly not rich.” Janet ran through what each kid seems to call the parents. I heard no rhyme or reason and Janet admitted that there was little consistency but still insisted that I’m “Daddy Dave” since I’m rich.
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Hey, I’ve been called a lot worse in life!

Correction!: “Kuya” means Big Brother, not uncle. That certainly makes it all less confusing 🙂

 

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Find Yourself A “Jo Jo” – Skilled Labor in the Philippines

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I’ve told the story before. When we moved into our house in Valencia, the toilet in the master bedroom smelled. It worked perfectly fine, but to quote Willie in one of my fave Xmas films, Bad Santa, it “smelled like a bum’s nut sack.”

Our landlord knew a guy and within an hour or two “Jo Jo” arrived to take a look. He said it was probably a bad seal and while he could start replacing seals and hope to find the issue, we’d probably be best off just replacing the toilet. The landlord was willing to pay for the new toilet, if we paid for the labor; that is the landlord was willing for me to buy the toilet and deduct the price from next month’s rent. I agreed.

A new toilet was purchased and Jo Jo, with the assistance of our next door neighbor, went to work. Now I have replaced a toilet or two in the US with mixed results. This time I was happy to have someone else do it. I will admit that at 65, schlepping around a new toilet has lost some of its charm. A couple hours later Jo Jo  was done and announced he would check the work the next day after the caulk had dried.

I contacted a couple expat friends and asked for a recommended price, since as is typical in the Philippines, Jo Jo would not name his price; “Whatever you wish to pay, Sir,” was his response to the question. My friends recommended 300-400 pesos (about $6-$8).

When the work was done I gave Jo Jo 300P and my neighbor 100P to help. My neighbor was reluctant to take any money but I insisted. In addition, Janet provided the workers with a “snack” – typical in the Philippines.

A month or two later we had a couple of minor electrical problems. The last thing I really wanted to do was deal with electrical problems in the Philippines; I mean it’s 220 voltage and I am clueless. But I procrastinated. A couple of the issues were 13 feet up and I have enough trouble on the ground nowadays. Finally I suggested to Janet, “Let’s see if Jo Jo can do it?” Janet texted him and he said he could come over the next morning. I took that as a sign he was happy for the work and the amount I had paid him the last time had been adequate. He came over and we had him fix 3 or 4 minor issues. Took him an hour at most. I handed him 300P and he went away happy.

Ever since we moved into the house the water pressure has been poor. Now, a lot of this is the water service in Valencia which isn’t very good. Of course our water bill averages about $1/month so I guess this comes under the category of, you get what you pay for.

But I had noticed that some faucets flowed well and others did not, which with my very limited plumbing knowledge told me that there might be clogs in some pipes. In particular, our bedroom shower had gone down to a trickle. “Let’s call Jo Jo,” I suggested authoritatively. He told Janet he could be there 7:30 the next morning. The next morning was a Sunday so this confirmed that I had been paying him well enough.
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He showed up at 7:30 on the nose and went to work. The main line had plenty of water so that wasn’t the issue. So he checked all the house lines. As I expected many of them had clogs and corrosion. Unlike in the US where a plumber would recommend thousands of dollars worth of replaced pipes and hardware, he cleaned the problem areas and within an hour we had decent water flow. I happily handed him 300P. A busy guy, he passed on the snack. I took the best shower I’ve had in a month!

The point of all this isn’t just that labor is inexpensive in the Philippines; that’s a given. It’s just that your thinking begins to change.

In the U.S., Home Depot and Lowes make billions. is this because guys love to spend their weekends replacing toilets? I doubt it. It’s because over the last generation or two the cost of calling a professional is beyond the budget of the average American.

Some guys reluctantly pay the pros. Others reluctantly give Home Depot their money and try to complete their Honey Do list. And still others find workarounds for problems and just plain procrastinate. While I have done all three strategies when I owned an older home in the U.S., procrastination was my favorite.

In the Philippines, those hard choices are unnecessary. Someone will happily help you with your home problems, fix your flat tire, clean your house, take care of your kids, etc. And the cost by Western standards is modest. Car wash? I have it done regularly, both inside and out. I never paid for the inside detail service in the U.S.; it’s too damn expensive. My haircut with tip costs about $1.

My point is, you’re giving people work that they are happy to have and the cost is very affordable. So there’s not much of a need to procrastinate. What am I gonna do with my time, now that I have no reason to piss it away?

 

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Shopping Tips (Half-Baked) in the Philippines

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Now that I have lived in the Philippines for a grand total of nine months I thought I would tackle the prickly problem of shopping in the Philippines, getting the stuff you want, preferably at a decent price. Now, I am a guy so my notion of shopping is not the same as Janet’s. By all means let’s ask her to write her own take on shopping here in the Philippines. I mean I have no idea where to buy the best shoes here but since this is the Philippines, I am sure there are many places.

Typically guys are interested in food, tools and guy stuff so that’s what I’ll focus on.

Tip #1: “Get it while you can!” If you see an item in a store that you want or that you know you’re going to need or even vaguely might need within the next decade – buy it – now. There’s no guarantee it’ll be there in a month. In fact if it’s an unusual item I can practically guarantee it won’t be there in a month. I have learned this lesson the hard way – over and over. I was in my local hardware store and saw  bar clamps. Now every woodworker knows you can’t have enough clamps, so I made a mental note. Well you guessed it; a month later when I went to buy a couple bar clamps they were gone. I’ve had the same experience multiple times. There’s no sense asking store personnel when they will get more. They will just say, “We’re out of stock, Sir.” “When will you have more?” Get real; they have no idea. Their job is to sell what’s in the store not what’s not in the store.

So listen to Grace Slick and – “Get it while you can.”

Tip #2: Pay it! As a corollary to Tip #1 – just pay the money. In the US when I saw something I wanted, I would go home, check online to see if I could get a better price somewhere, call a couple stores to make sure it was in stock, etc. Don’t do that here in the Philippines because if you do by the time you get it together to go back to the store, the item in question will be – repeat after me – “out of stock!”

Tip #3: Don’t get too excited when you find something you like in stock. The first week we were in Dumaguete we went to Robinsons Supermarket for our first major grocery run. I took the opportunity to go up and down every aisle, trying to get the lay of the land. I spied something in the refrigerated area and called to Janet. “They have Philly cream cheese here!” I was shocked and delighted. I have been a Philly fan since I was a kid and it was the only cream cheese I put on my bagels for 60 years. Now, I had no idea if I could get any kind of bagel in Dumaguete, but I bought a container of Philly and went home with a smile on my face.

Eventually I did find a bakery with at least passable bagels and made consistent runs there. Within a couple months I ran out of my Philly cream cheese. “No worries,” I told Janet. “I’ll get more the next time we go to Robinsons.” Ah, when will I learn? No Philly to be found in Robinsons, “out of stock” and who knows when it will return.

The moral? Buy an extra tub of cream cheese!

Tip #4: Patronize your favorite places and buy out the store. Speaking of the bagel place I found, it’s a nice bakery and once or twice a month I run down there. At first I bought a bagel or two cause that was my routine back in the US. I’m slow but learning. Yesterday I stopped in and asked “How many plain bagels do you have?” I’m just a simple kano, so plain is my favorite. “Five, Sir.” “I’ll take them all!” I announced. Janet was out of town yesterday and when she called to check on me she asked, “What did you have for lunch.” I was too embarrassed to tell her I’d feasted on bagels and non-Philly cream cheese all day, so I just said, “I made a sandwich.”

Tip #5: Ask around. Now while it’s true that often store clerks don’t have a clue sometimes if you ask, “Do you know where I can get X?” they will in fact tell you exactly where you can get it. The same with your neighbors or relatives. My neighbors seem genuinely happy to help the poor hapless kano, who clearly doesn’t know his ass from Tuesday. Also ask your other expat friends. They might know where to get stuff. This works best if you’re asking about beer.
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Tip #6: Go online. While they are not Amazon, I have had good success so far with both Lazada and Aliexpress. Now, they are unlikely to have Western brands, unless the brand is distributed in Asia. Prices can be all over the map, especially if a Lazada item is International; that may mean it is actually being shipped from the US, and you’re going to pay big time. But since so much is Chinese-made now anyway, you can find lots on these two sites.

Tip #7: Ship it from the US. If the item is light weight and not too expensive it might be worth it to have it shipped to you. As a guitar player I like several high end brands of strings. Not only can I not get those strings in a store in the Philippines, I could not get them in a music store in Portland. I found that my two favorite string etailers were happy to ship to me in the Philippines and the basic USPS shipping charge wasn’t much more than shipping in the US. The only down side is that it took about a month to get to me. Also PhilPost charges 112 pesos (a hair over $2) for customs charges for international orders. What’s weird about this charge is whether the item is a $5 item or a $500 item, they still charge the same 112 pesos.

Tip#8: Send yourself a balikbayan box. I know lots of expats who buy items, have them sent to a relative or friend and fill up a balikbayan box. The shipping of a BB box is a flat rate and cheap. I have a Filipino woodworking online friend here. When I saw pics of his workbench I gasped because I recognized that he was using a very high end, expensive, drool worthy bench vise. I got excited “Are they distributed in Asia?” “No – I got it from the US.” I’m thinking, ‘The shipping must have cost a fortune.’ But he added, “My brother sent it to me.” Ahhh!

So consider the BB box strategy.

Tip #9: Broaden your pallet. If you are the type that needs all your Western food items, your grocery budget might get expensive. Many of those items can be found here but you’re gonna spend anywhere from a little bit more to a  lot more. Fortunately for me, there are very few things (other than Philly cream cheese) that I am picky about. I don’t care if it’s Heinz ketchup as long as it’s red. I don’t need Grey Poupon (and yes, you can get it here). There are several stores that cater to expats and sell foreigner food at foreigner prices. I am happy those places exist but rarely go. So find substitutes. Do you really need that Australian steak? Learn to love pork and chicken!

OTOH, about a month ago I was in Hypermart (the other major grocery store here in Dumaguete) and was shocked to see a gallon jug of Martinellis apple cider. It’s been my fave for 40+ years. Even back in the US it was expensive and I only got it as an occasional treat. Treetop was good enough for my thirsty kids.

Anyway, I looked at the price on the jug – 400 pesos, which is almost $8. My darling wife said, “It’s your favorite. Treat yourself!” And so, remembering Tip #1,  I did.

 

 

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A Tale of Three Lawyers

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A couple of years ago I wrote a blog piece entitled, A Tale of Two Pigs. Now, I don’t want to make a comparison between lawyers and pigs – that’s not my point – well, not entirely. But still A Take of Three Lawyers seemed like a good title.

Janet has wanted to buy a lot for her parents to build a simple house on for as long as I have known her. The story of how she socked away the cash and found the lot is a good one, but one for another posting. This one is about the legal system in the Philippines; or at least about three lawyers we sort of employed.

Seven months ago she found the lot and made an offer which was accepted quickly. Easy, right? Hmm – not quite. The seller provided her with some, though not all, the required documentation. I knew enough about the Philippines to know that a lawyer was a good idea to review the documents. I asked around, got a recommendation and contacted the Attorney via Facebook, which is where most lawyers apparently conduct their business here. He asked me to send the documents as attachments on FB Messenger. I offered to email him real, honest to God, Word documents, but somehow he couldn’t handle that. Nonetheless, he reviewed the documents, made some recommendations which sounded lawyer-like and we told him (via Facebook) that when the time came we would contact him about creating a final contract and deed of sale. I never received a bill or request for money, nor even an idea of what his services cost; in fact I never heard from him again. This is not totally unheard of in the Philippines, but still by US standards, where entering an attorney’s office and breathing the air required payment, it struck me as odd. Janet and I discussed the situation several times over the next couple months. Certainly I figured I would get billed at the end of the month or contacted in some manner. It never happened.

Months went by. The seller was dragging his feet. The documents he still owned Janet were coming in slowly. The seller was complaining because other people he had sold property to had not required legal irrelevancies such as the title to the property or proof that he’d paid his property taxes. We were being unreasonable but still he agreed and one by one he gradually sent us the documents.

In the meantime, Janet was working on reacquiring her Philippines citizenship. It required her to get a document notarized. It was the beginning of January and we stopped by several lawyers’ offices (most notaries seem to be attorneys here) only to be told that the lawyer in question was not currently licensed to be a notary since it was the beginning of the year and he hadn’t gotten around to being relicensed for the year. If only we could come back in a week or two they’d be good to go.

Finally in frustration, we discovered that the City of Dumaguete actually provided inexpensive notary service at City Hall. We went there, met with a young attorney who recommended we change our document. She was fast and inexpensive. Janet liked her and decided that if the real estate deal ever went threw she’d like to use this lawyer to do the paperwork.

While there still remained several fits and starts and lots of drama, we were getting closer to having everything done. We went to see the young lawyer in her home office to draft a deed of sale with a couple contractual clauses Janet wanted. At the end of the conversation I asked the lawyer how much the work would cost. “Whatever you think is fair, Sir.” I had heard this type of phrase before when dealing with service providers in the Philippines but still I was surprised to hear it from a lawyer. “I have no idea of what legal services cost in the Philippines, so it would be great if you could give us an idea,” I responded. Actually I did have an idea of what legal fees cost in the Philippines; at least I knew what the other lawyer had charged us – nothing. Finally she agreed that she would think about it and let us know when we came to get the documents.

The next week we returned to pick up the documents. There was some talk as to whether Janet should sign the documents right then and there since our young attorney was also a notary. But she recommended that Janet sign at the same time and place as the seller. She thought that was safest and we agreed. In the end she quoted a price for her services which seemed reasonable, we paid it and happily left, confident that we now knew a trustworthy, competent lawyer in Dumaguete.

The next day we traveled to Southern Cebu to meet with the seller. He knew an attorney/notary, perhaps the only one in the area, that we could go to and sign the documents.
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The lawyer began to review the documents. This surprised me. OK, actually it annoyed me. We were there to get the documents notarized, not reviewed. I began to fear that this guy was going to charge us for legal services not just the notary services we wanted. In the end he recommended a relatively minor change to the document, and went into his office to handwrite the change.

We waited and waited but finally the signings happened, the docs were notarized and the lawyer returned with the final work in hand, a look of triumph on his face. I asked how much we owned him. He quoted a figure. “What!” I said. “For notary services?”

“You’re charged a percentage of the value of the property,” he explained, though I didn’t buy it.

“You didn’t create the deed or contact and in fact the lawyer who did, charged us less to do all the work that you are charging us.”

I sat and stewed while Janet and the seller determined who got what and who would do what now. I knew that by American legal standards the amount was chump change, but I felt like an idiot. Why didn’t I ask him right away what the charge would be? The answer to that was that based on my previous experiences with the first two lawyers, I wasn’t going to get a definite answer anyway.

I stewed some more. Could this be the famed “long nose tax” that so many expats complain about? Maybe. More likely, I thought the seller had taken us to a friend to soak us, and quite possibly get a piece of the pie for himself.

I calmed down, paid the guy, and took Janet, her mother and a brother and sister to 7-11 for ice cream and a San Miguel for me.

The ice cream tasted great in the hot sun. The San Miguel went down really well. And then I reminded myself that we had paid a grand total $105 for the services of three lawyers. So, life can’t be all that bad.

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The Return Flight From Hell

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Janet and I had just spent a delightful vacation week in Krabi, Thailand with our friends Pete and Cathy. We had a great vacation but were ready to return home to the Philippines.

Now vacation is a bit of a misnomer because let’s face it – we’re on permanent vacation. Let’s call it a vacation from our vacation.

From Krabi we had a layover in Singapore before our flight to Cebu. I promised Janet a nice dinner because after all, the Singapore Airport had to be like the country itself – rich and modern.

The Krabi Airport was neither rich nor modern. We wanted lunch and there were two restaurants. One had almost nothing to sell and the other one was a Subway, which made me happier than Janet.

The gate area at Krabi Airport makes the average bus terminal look sophisticated. So much noise that it was impossible to determine what the announcements over the intercom were saying. Nonetheless we finally got on the plane and took off. The flight was a bit late, meaning that our 2 1/2 hour layover was down to 2 hours; still plenty of time for a meal and exploring the Singapore Airport, or so I thought.

Like most international transfers, we were forced to first go through a security search; no problem – we’re used to it. The airport, as expected, was beautiful and modern but signage was lacking and we could not figure out where our flight was. I had promised Janet that nice meal, as soon as we found our gate. It took me 10 minutes to find a modern machine which scanned my ticket and told me where the flight would be; Terminal 4. We followed the signs to Terminal 4; it was at least a 10 minute trek. Now we approached the turn leading to the terminal and two employees stopped us.

“You must go through Immigration before you can go to the gate,” one told me.

“Why? We’re not coming into the country – we’re just transferring flights.” He was adamant. “OK, where is immigration?” I asked. Let’s just say it wasn’t close by.

The line at immigration was long and we were still questioning why we have to go through Immigration at all. Janet asked an employee whether we have to go through Immigration and is told that no we don’t. We leave the line and go back toward the gate – another 10 minute trek. As we approach, the two men again stop us. For seven months in the Philippines I have managed not to lose my temper despite a 3rd world infrastructure. But here in beautiful, modern, 1st world Singapore I am losing it. “We were just told we didn’t have to go through Immigration! ”

“Yes, you do,” the guy said and handed us a sheet of instructions on what to do for an Air Asia flight. As we storm off heading back to Immigration, I heard him say, “We value your input.” The last thing he wants to hear is my input.

Back in the line at Immigration. It moved quicker than expected but now I am trying to figure out what time it is in Singapore and how long we have until the flight. I explained to the Immigration Officer that we were told that we had to go through Immigration. He looks at me like I am crazy, shrugs and starts to process me. “How long will you be staying in Singapore?” he asks. I know better than to lose it with an Immigration Officer but I did chuckle.

Back upstairs, passed our two friends and outside to get a bus to Terminal 4. We all crammed onto the bus, but hey it’s modern. Frankly by this point I’d rather be on a Jeepney in Manila. Another 10 minutes.

According to the instructions we were handed we had to go through Air Asia’s document control, despite the fact we already had our boarding passes. At least 10 minutes. Finally the lady says “You don’t have to be here. See it says on your boarding passes, ‘Go directly to the Gate.’ Apparently in Singapore their concept of going directly to the gate is different from mine.

To no surprise there was no way to go directly to the gate. You had to go through machines and scan your boarding pass. After scanning my pass the machine said “Go to Immigration.” Now I’m ready to lose it. I find a guard who looks at our boarding passes and lets us through.

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At least a 10 minute jog to the actual gate. We had made it but had blown all our time; no dinner for Janet; a muffin would have to suffice and a promise of whatever food was on the plane.

After boarding the plane and getting ready for the flight – suddenly the lights went off. No big deal; it had happened to me before, but Janet was scared. They came back on in a minute. No one seemed concerned that there was no announcement from the cockpit.

A few minutes later the lights went off again. Now we saw ground crew come on and enter the cockpit. Not a reassuring sign.

Again the lights come back on and we try to relax. But yet again the lights go out and this time stay out for about 10 minutes. Janet is worried and I am assuming that soon we will hear an announcement that the plane has a problem and we have to get off. Janet said that she was sure they had another plane for us. I told her that that was highly unlikely.

Surprisingly the flight attendant announced we would soon be departing. I was still waiting for an announcement of what occurred but it didn’t come. Janet went up and asked the flight attendant. He tells her something about the engine not powered and since there was no power the captain could not use the intercom and speak to us. Engine problems is not what you want to hear when you are about to take off.

People are nervous and a 30ish woman leans past her husband and asks me if this is “normal.” Apparently I look like a wise old world traveler, which I sort of am. “No,” I said. “Not normal in my experience.”

The flight attendant passes and I asked for an explanation. He said something like they were rebooting the system. Now as a former Software Engineer this should be reassuring but rebooting the engine did not sound so good to me.

Getting ready to taxi Janet asked me to pray. This did not sound like a bad idea to me. As a Buddhist, I chant – so that’s what I did, under my breath.

From that point onward the flight was uneventful. There were no meals to speak of but I wasn’t very hungry anyway.

For the last few days Janet has hugged me alot and proclaimed it was nice to be alive. Yep, it’s nice to be alive and even nicer not to be in the Singapore Airport!