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Tag Archives: marriage
Chatting with Janet
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https://youtu.be/qb61D2RS0_g
Dave’s Tips For a Successful Fil-Am Marriage – Volume 1
It recently occurred to Janet and I that we are approaching our 2nd anniversary. This blog was originally dedicated to describing the joys of a newly-wedded Fil-Am couple. At almost 2 years I may have to change the focus to a mature and experienced Fil-Am couple; cranky even (OK, that’s just the male half of the couple).
In addition, in my previous forays into marriage I visited many couples therapists. Usually these pleasant engagements occurred when my ex would sweetly say, “honey – go with me to therapy or get the hell out!”
I counted the other day (this is how exciting my daily life is) and came up with six different couples therapists I have seen, though fortunately none with Janet. In addition, there was the couples therapy group I was a member of for several years. Of the eight couples that worked successfully together to improve their marital lives, I am pretty sure that one or two pairs are still married.
The point of all this is that clearly I am now an expert in the area of Fil-Am marriage (and marriage in general) and so finally feel capable of dispensing “Dave’s Tips For a Successful Fil-Am Marriage.” Read it at your own risk. You have been warned!
1. Learn to speak her language: No, I am not talking about learning Tagalog or Visayan, though that’s not a bad idea and I know one or two guys who have actually learned to speak Filipino well enough to not be laughed at throughout the Philippines.
Me? Janet has taught me the Visayan words for all the body parts (or at least the good ones) as well as a few intimate acts. When Janet told her mother what she had taught me her mother yelled, “Why would you teach him that!” Because it’s fun – that’s why. At age 62 I now get to talk dirty in a new language and am having a blast.
But actually what I meant when I said you should learn her language – is English. English, you ask? That’s what we Americans and Canadians and British and Australians speak. That’s the language our Filipina brides ought to learn better. That’s the language we, as native speakers, ought to be teaching our Filipina brides. Wrong!!
Don’t kid yourself: it’s not your responsibility to teach her English. It’s your responsibility to learn her English! Think you’re gonna get her to stop using terms like “nosebleed,” or “open/shut the light?” Nor could I ever get Janet to stop calling me “Sir Dave.” Come to think about it why would I want her to stop 🙂
Despite the fluency of many Filipinas, English can be tricky. Lately, Janet’s gotten into baking. The other day she asked if she could find “coqua” here. She described it as a chocolate baking powder. I assured her that chocolate baking powder was easy to get but I didn’t know about coqua. “I’ll look it up. How do you spell it?”
“Cocoa,” she answered.
“Oh, you mean cocoa.”
“No, coqua.”
“Don’t worry. We can get some Hershey’s coqua at the store.”
So bone up on your Filipino English, guys. You’re gonna need it.
2. Find the best place for lechon: There’s the old adage “a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” In this case your silo of a stomach is irrelevant. You’re a kano; you can eat whatever crap kanos eat. But she will miss all of her native foods.
Before Janet arrived I thought I had done the right thing. I’d bought a rice cooker, and a good one at that, and scoped out several Asian markets and a Filipino restaurant. ‘That should do it,’ I thought. Wrong! Despite the stereotype that they are poor Filipinas who mostly subsist on rice, and only white rice at that, her palate is as varied as yours; for example, sometimes KFC will do and other times is has to be Popeyes 🙂
But seriously, just as if you lived abroad you might miss a New York steak, your fave gouda, or if you’re me, Kraft Mac and Cheese, she will miss all her favorites. Sometimes you will look everywhere and find something and declare “Eureka! I found it,” only to be told that that brand isn’t very good. Janet has been trying to find a good chicharon (pork rinds) for 2 years with no success. Sure we can find chicharon but not the good stuff. BTW, for those really interested, Carcar is the chicharon capital of the Philippines, so if you want the good stuff it’s only 8000 miles (and a 2 hour drive south of Cebu City) away.
BTW, for those really interested, Carcar is the chicharon capital of the Philippines, so if you want the good stuff it’s only 8000 miles (and a 2 hour drive south of Cebu City) away.
You can include leafy greens such as kale, collard greens, turnip greens, spinach levitra prescription and roman lettuce in your daily diet. http://cute-n-tiny.com/tag/monkey/ commander levitra These symptoms may appear for months or years. In the midst of all this male levitra online cheap thing, our hair starts to drop out and, almost without exception, we start to go bald. It cheapest viagra in australia has a user-friendly website (you will find the link below) and with a few clicks of your mouse button. Sometimes it’s the simplest things. When we first arrived Janet wanted corned beef. No problem, I told her, and picked up a can of Hormel’s. “Yuck,” she said. “This is not corned beef.” “It says corned beef and it’s made by Hormel, the king of junk meat,” I replied.
All the Asian stores we have been to do not carry real Philippines corned beef and Janet has been missing it. But then a miracle happened. A couple weeks ago for her birthday a friend brought Janet a couple of tins of corned beef. A certain amount of begging was required to get the friend to reveal her special source. These are the sorts of things you must do to keep your wife happy and avoid the couples therapist, who wouldn’t know where Filipino corned beef can be gotten anyway.
3. Get to know (and like) the family: I know, I know. You married her, not her family. You have enough troubles dealing with your own family and if you’re like me you deliberately live thousands of miles away from your ancestral home and return rarely. And of course you and your bride live many thousands of miles away from the Philippines. And even if you two eventually decide to live in the Philippines, you will heed the words of many wise expats and live two islands away from the family; that’ll keep you from having to deal with them. Umm – not quite!
Janet has nine brothers and sisters and while it’s taken two years of intensive study, I now know all their names and pretty much know who is who. Since I am told about them in intimate detail, I figured I might as well learn to accept that fact. So should you.
But if you’re fool enough to listen to me, you ought to take it a step further – get to know the family and like them.
We’ve returned each year to Janet’s hometown in Alcoy and frankly the family, while happy to see Janet, seems fascinated to see me. Actually, they seem most fascinated that I am interested in them and wish in some small way to be part of them. As I’ve detailed before, the kids are shy, but watch what I do like a hawk.
I suppose when it comes to the family, the greatest fear on the part of many husbands of Filipinas is financial. We hear horror stories and figure the easiest way to not have our cash parted from us, until we’re cold and dead, is to stay far from the family.
While I suppose it’s a risk, I just don’t agree. Get to know her family, her friends. Soon they will spill the beans on your bride and tell you everything imaginable. You want to know everything don’t you? No? Then why did you marry a Pinay?
And if someone asks for money (that you don’t have or don’t wish to give), describing in their best English what they need the money for – tell ’em you’re having a nosebleed.
Tip of the Day: If you’re visiting or moving to the Philippines and are worried that everyone will think you are the aforementioned rich kano – well, you’re right. Every cousin, hell even lolo, is on Facebook. They know the car you drive, the clothes you wear, the square footage of your house, what version of iPhone you have, etc. Why? Because you are an idiot and post all these things!
So what’s my tip? Think Jed Clampett. Remember the Beverly Hillbillies, where Jed had something like $60 million, back in the day when $60 mil was real money? Did he drive a Mercedes, dress in Armani, and post it all on FB? Nope. Here’s how he rolled. Do the same and you won’t be considered the rich kano. Or, only somewhat rich 🙂
“If love is an amazing dream, then marriage is the alarm clock!”
Today’s our one year anniversary. OK, it was the 22nd, but it sounds more dramatic if I say today. While there are always ups and downs, disagreements and even full blown arguments in any relationship, truth be told – this has been a great year.
If you throw in the one year I lived with my second wife prior to marriage, I was married for a total of 20 years. It’s sad and unfortunate to report but out of that 20 years, maybe one was happy – one combined. Oh, don’t get me wrong; there were nice moments. Children being born and growing up, that trip to Alaska. But when I really looked back and thought about when the primary relationship was good – well things came up woefully short. Perhaps that’s why I was twice divorced; well, it’s a theory.
I can say without hesitation that the last year with Janet was by far better than any year I spent married before. Granted, based on the previous paragraph the bar was set pretty low, but we easily cleared it.
As we always do, we posted a few Facebook pictures and comments. And Facebook kindly posts an anniversary reminder which got us dozens of responses from friends. No doubt a couple were amazed that we made it to one year. I was not.
But it was Janet’s posting that was most interesting and telling about this intersection of two cultures.
As you all know, when you post a set of pics on Facebook you usually create an album and name it. Janet’s name for her anniversary picture album was, “If love is an amazing dream, then marriage is the alarm clock!”
When I read the title, I cracked up. I figured it couldn’t have come from Janet. I gently broached the subject that night, just before we were to go out for our anniversary dinner.
“I read it and thought it was funny,” she said, confirming my assumption that she hadn’t written it.
“Do you know what it means?” I asked.
“Of course! When you are in love, the alarm clock goes off telling you it’s time to get married.”
“Um, not exactly.” I explained to her how the average American would interpret the line.
“I should remove it then,” she said. “But it’s still funny and I still like it.”
“Then you should keep it.”
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“That you’re funny. Keep it.”
I had been checking online reviews to find a fancy restaurant we’d never been to for our celebration but when it came down to it Janet wanted to eat food that she enjoyed with a menu that included white rice with every entree, so in the end we went to our favorite Chinese restaurant. Not exactly Filipino faire but the side order of barbecue pork made it close enough. And Janet simply did not want us to drop a bunch of money on a meal, especially one she might not enjoy. But of course since I had saved a bunch on dinner and we finished early enough, Janet gently asked whether we might stop at the mall where an H&M sale was strongly calling her. She picked up a couple of $3-$5 items and found a way to get 10% off the total. That’s about as extravagant as she usually gets.
The morning after our anniversary we slept in. No, not for that reason! OK, truth be told not just for that reason. I had a doctor’s appointment at 10:00. In addition, my son had called the night before, during dinner, saying that his uncle wanted to come over in the morning to pick up some of his things and deliver them to him at college.
Now my former BIL is an interesting character. Very youthful looking for his early 70s, he’s a retired doctor-psychiatrist, and a not so retired playa. He had never met Janet but had asked me about her on an occasion or two.
He arrived just as I was about to drive off to the doctor’s appointment. After a quick greeting, I opened the garage, showed him the pile of stuff my son wanted and told him, ‘Don’t worry, Janet will close the garage when you are done.”
That night after work, Janet giggled and told me that after he had loaded the car, playa BIL, rang the doorbell to tell Janet he was done and as an excuse to meet her and give her a good look. It’s good to know really. He’s 10+ years older than me. Nice to know that at that age I will still be giving Janet a good long look as we celebrate our 11th anniversary!
Can Comicbook Guy Marry in the Philippines?
The Philippines expat community is in an uproar and if you are familiar with some of these serious-minded men you know some serious shit must be happening.
Turns out there is a proposed bill in the Philippines legislature that might make it harder for a “foreigner” to marry a Filipina, at least within the Philippines and it’s got some expats quaking in their flip flops.
The bill is sponsored by Cebu Rep. Gwendolyn F. Garcia, who described her measure as a protection against “vagabonds or social and moral derelicts in their own country whose real motive is to abuse Filipino women…to take advantage and exploit our women by making them work for the family and worse, by sending them to prostitution and other degrading and dehumanizing occupations.”
“The exploitation of our Filipino women, through the so-called mail-order or pen-pal, Facebook, website-made, and other internet-made marriages, has not only caused untold miseries and suffering to our Filipino women but it has also brought dishonor and disgrace to the Filipino womanhood,” she said.
Note to self: Don’t disgrace or dishonor Filipino womanhood anymore by asking Janet what she’d like to make for dinner.
Note to self: Don’t disgrace or dishonor Filipino womanhood anymore by asking Janet what she’d like to make for dinner.
If the bill passes they are actually going to require the foreigner husband-to-be to document his income and prove that he is of good moral character.
The uproar among the expats mainly has to do with several areas of distress:
1. Distrust of government. Well, this is a generally good, libertarian type stance, I suppose. The Philippines Government ought to stay out of personal affairs whenever possible (ours certainly does :)), although potential charges of degradation and prostitution is somewhere I expect governments to be very involved – as an equal partner. In this case the guys were more worried that the estimated cost of said documents (1000 pesos = approx. $25) is just one more area where those thieves in Manila are ripping off poor foreigners who can already barely afford their daily ration of San Miguel.
2. That many of the guys in question don’t know what the term “good moral character” means, nor where to buy the document that says they have it.
3. That there is a general lack of respect for foreigners living in the Philippines, many of whom, hard to believe, are viewed as sex tourists. See the above “good moral character” definition.
4. General confusion because no one has used the word vagabond in fifty years and most guys think it has something to do with hitchhikers or backpakers. OTOH, most of the guys didn’t object to the use of the work derelict, which they assumed is used to accurately reflect their drinking habits.
—–
Since I am already married to my darling Janet and didn’t marry in the Philippines, the proposed law isn’t a big issue for me. But if all my brethren are up in arms than I figure that I had better investigate for the good of the order. Now where’s my bottle opener…
In the midst of my extensive investigation, coincidentally Janet asked me if I was aware of the bill. “Yes, I heard about it. Thank goodness we got married before I had to verify my moral character. And who knew that I was only interested in destroying Filipino womanhood.”
I did finally get around to asking her what she thought of the bill, since after all it would, at least in theory, make it harder for a couple like us to marry.
“I think it’s good,” she replied. “Many foreigners don’t take care of their wives, use them only as maids or treat them like sex slaves.” I may be a bit paranoid, but I didn’t like the look she gave me as she described these ne’er do well foreigner husbands.
“I don’t treat you like a maid,” I replied giggling. She gave me “the look.”
I am also aware that just as the expats are constantly sharing stories of the occasional bad Filipina wife, usually involving murder by bolo, Filipinas are often sharing stories about bad foreigner husbands. Janet often shares these internet stories usually asking me, “Did you hear about this foreigner who sold his wife into slavery in Iowa?”
She can be louder, more aggressive, manipulative, controlling, abrasive, hypersensitive, pfizer viagra sales demanding, cruel, blaming… Like most erectile dysfunction treatments, it can be relied upon to give you hardness where it counts for 4-6 hours (window period when an erection is cialis on line drugstore link possible). RC helicopters are prone to damage if they are not handled well. cheap cialis http://cute-n-tiny.com/tag/jerboa/ The massage therapist, http://cute-n-tiny.com/cute-animals/video-kitten-riding-a-turtle/ order levitra online very carefully presses the soft tissues of the body to thereby achieve avoid increasing cramping sensation and even pain. “Well if it’s in Iowa, he’s not a foreigner,” I’d calmly reply. The “look” would follow.
It took me about a day to complete my attitude adjustment. Apparently I hadn’t drunk enough San Miguels.
So let’s consider the outcome of the proposed law. Of course the following assumes the law passes and furthermore assumes it is thoroughly enforced; and when does that happen? But assuming both conditions, what might happen to Fil-Am marriages in the Philippines?
The guy who promises his girl that he is a rich kano with a $100k job who can take care of her for life, take care of her kids, take care of her family, the neighbors, hell the whole barangay is discovered to be an unemployed phone solicitor with a bank balance of -$127.
The guy who swears to his girl that he has never been married is found to have been married twice and was never exactly divorced – from either wife.
The guy who loves children and can’t wait to have another one with his Filipina fiancé, owes child support dating back to the Clinton administration.
The guy who claims he can retire early in the Philippines due to his business acumen, owes the IRS $250k in back taxes.
The guy who is highly moral and religious and attends mass weekly with his FIlipina, is wanted in five states and by the Feds for grand larceny, racketeering and transporting a white fish across state lines. OK, I stole the white fish bit from Woody Allen – always loved that line. I guess that thievery means I wouldn’t pass the Philippines requirements either.
Not that any of these guys are vagabonds or derelicts. They’re just living the good life in the Philippines.
How to Find a Philippines Mentor
Humor Alert: Sorry but there isn’t much. This is a subject I’m serious about, emotional even. I’ll make up for it next time, I promise.
I see and hear about all kinds of guys who go to the Philippines and hate it. Of course tastes aren’t universal and not everyone loves 90 degree heat and 90% humidity as much as I do, so maybe I can’t blame them. White sand and cheap beer is overrated – if you’re a priest or mental case. But when they complain about the women, say they can’t find a good one, say they’re all dumb, and worse still, claim they are all unattractive – well then I scratch my head and wonder whether we visited the same country – or live on the same planet.
Not to be indelicate, but if you are a single Westerner and take an extended trip to the Philippines, or a short trip; hell, even if you do a 10-hour layover, and can’t find a youngish, sweet, bright, fun, and attractive girl to spend time with – then there is something seriously wrong with you, probably either involving mental illness or the fact that you’ve recently passed away and no one’s bothered to tell you.
…if you are a single Westerner and take an extended trip to the Philippines, or a short trip; hell, even if you do a 10-hour layover, and can’t find a youngish, sweet, bright, fun, and attractive girl to spend time with – then there is something seriously wrong with you…
While it seems very easy to me and many of my friends, since it’s not easy for everyone I searched my mind for solutions and finally realized one of the main differences between success and failure; I found a good mentor and most don’t. Here’s my mentor story and how you can find one too.
First let’s talk about why you need a true mentor in the Philippines:
Going to the Philippines and figuring you’ll run into a fellow Westerner who will give you the lay of the land is not a wise idea. Most expats living in the Philippines are either old and cranky (that is older and crankier than I am); drunks; evading the authorities, their ex-wife or their drug dealer back home; or make their living as professional whore mongers. “But Dave, you say that like it’s a bad thing,” I hear you all saying. Point being if you meet a fellow Westerner and sit down for a San Miguel and friendly chat on life in the Philippines, the guy may have no more in common with you than the average inmate in San Quentin, and may well have once resided in a comparable federal facility.
Let’s say you meet a guy (in person or online) who isn’t too bad; he’s long-nosed and white, speaks with your accent, is articulate and doesn’t appear to be a total drunk or evading the law. Does that make him a good mentor? Not necessarily.
I know a well-educated guy living in Manila, who can tell you in great detail every aspect of every girlie bar in EDSA, which is fine if you are interested in finding a bar girl in Manila (and BTW, if you need a mentor for that, you’re beyond hope) but who defines a long-term relationship as “she spent the night.” The point is, you have to find someone on the same page as you. Which means you have to genuinely know yourself well enough to know what you want. Wife, girlfriend, temporary girlfriend, very very temporary girlfriend, catcher’s mitt? Are you interested in the big cities (Manila, Cebu), smaller cities, or provinces? Are you young, middle-aged, old as me, or living in an intensive care unit? Well, you get the idea. While a guy with different goals than you might provide some valuable information, he’s not gonna be a proper mentor to you.
I found my mentor through a circuitous route. As in all modern research methodologies, several years ago I turned to the Internet to find out the best way to discover the joys of foreign women. It led me to a couple of men’s forums. There I chatted with a guy who led me to yet another forum, specifically on living and meeting women abroad. He told me, “the owner of the forum’s nuts, but there is some good information there.”
I visited said forum and found a ton of information, some even useful, and a cast of characters that would fit right in with a pornographic version of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.
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In reading between the lines, there were two guys who appeared to be slightly less deranged than the forum owner and his minions. I contacted both. Turns out that one, Pete, lives a couple hours from me. We connected quickly; as I said above finding someone with similar interests is important. Pete had been married quite a while to his Filipina wife, Cathy, and came off as a very happy guy. He immediately encouraged me to join Cherry Blossoms as a paid member, as he had done years before.
He patiently answered all my questions, which looking back were mostly lame and novice, with genuine enthusiasm for the journey I was beginning. A month later he told me that he and Cathy would be coming though my city and asked if I wanted to meet for lunch. I jumped at the opportunity.
At lunch, the main thing I noticed (other than the fact that Cathy was very attractive) was that even after nearly ten years together they seemed as close as newlyweds; holding hands, cuddling next to each other. I remember having an intense feeling of envy but that feeling reinforced the fact that I was going in the right direction and wanted exactly what Pete had. Well, not exactly; Cathy was taken and Pete’s a lot bigger than me.
Pete stuck with me all the way. I made a mistake or two, which I have documented in other blog postings. But each time he’d guide me in the right direction, confident that I could do it. He was a friend, guide and cheerleader all rolled up into one.
Funny thing is that almost no one else on the forum took him up on his offer to guide them. Perhaps this is men’s nature; the “I can do it myself” male ego. Lucky I was a bit more open.
Two years later, after trials, tribulations and with great excitement, Janet arrived. Not long after, Pete and Cathy came through town and the four of us met over dinner. Janet and Cathy bonded immediately.
Due to the K-1 Visa requirements and our own excitement, our wedding was put together quickly and was to be held in the garden of our neighbor. Since Janet’s family could, of course, not attend I asked her who she might like to walk her down the aisle and without hesitation she responded, “Pete.”
Pete – if you’re reading this – well my words of gratitude seem inadequate. Janet and I owe you so much and I hope our friendship to be a lifelong one.
So guys, if you’re searching for the right girl, find the right guide. They are out there and willing to help. Even Pete and I might lend a hand.
Viagra Babies and My Impending Dotage and Demise
When I started this blog I promised it would be irreverent and funny and occasionally informative. Well, today it’s time for some information, though first you’ll have to slog through the other crap.
Last night I was eating dinner with my 18-year old son. We’re talking about some serious stuff mostly regarding his upcoming entry into college and the excitement of leaving home for his next adventure in life. Finally out of the blue he asks, “How much does a funeral cost?” Was he worried about my impending demise, I wondered? Not exactly. He was worried about how much he would have to pay. “After all, mom (my ex) is not gonna pay for it,” he told me.
I thanked him for his concern and assured him I had a good year or two left and then told him honestly that Janet knew my wishes and I did not want a funeral; just to be cremated. “So, how much does an urn cost?” he asked. I considered showing him the final scene from The Big Lebowski, where the Dude and Walter get a coffee can from Ralph’s to carry Donnie’s final remains (and the consequences of that action) but decided that I at least deserved more than a Ralph’s coffee can.
“Urns come in all prices,” I finally said and then assured him that my “estate” could probably manage the cost of an urn.
————
About a week ago I was talking to Janet. She was half joking and said, “You must take good care of me now while you are young because I will be taking care of you in the future.” Once again I assured her that was going to be far into the future, but as a dutiful husband I also assured her I would take care of her now. I also thanked her for the “young” lie.
But this whole age thing is really weird because of the incongruity in my life and marriage. After all, I am 61 which by many standards ain’t exactly young. Frankly, I’m not sure I can even get away with calling myself middle-aged any more. I am constantly referred to as “the old guy” at work. OK, truth be told I used to be referred to as “the old guy.” Now, I suspect I am referred to as the “old guy with the hot and inappropriately young wife.”
And yes, said wife is 26 and in many ways I get to watch her begin adult life, learning about her environment, and the workaday world, in total contrast to my plans to end my foray into the workaday world.
And of course Janet talks often about children. Most of my peers have grandchildren to bounce around and then get rid of at the end of the day. We’re trying to determine how and when to have our own, and whether my hernia will hold up.
And this is really where it gets strange because I believe I have to try to think and act young all the while acknowledging that other reality. You have to balance both realities, while, as the cliche goes, living for today.
This reminds me of a story from my friend Jim. I hope he’ll forgive me for stealing it.
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I was meeting with Jim weekly over beers telling him of my escapades in the Philippines, and of my then girlfriend, Janet. I was encouraging him to check it out. It took some convincing, as well as several chat sessions with a cute Pinay, who was to eventually become his wife, but finally Jim visited the Philippines. He returned to the U.S. and soon after went to a bar to meet a few friends. Arriving a bit late he found his buddies involved in a not so lively discussion – on burial plots. Apparently they hadn’t seen The Big Lebowski. Sizing the morbid situation up he told them, “Here’s what I’m up to,” and pulled out a picture of his hot girlfriend. The burial plot conversation ended.
I don’t know what my point is here exactly. I suppose at my age you can discuss burial plots, funerals and urns or marry a cute Filipina. I know what I chose to do.
————
BTW, to add to the old age theme here, yesterday I was on the phone with Social Security. I have the week off from work and one of the exciting things on my list of things to do was to call Social Security and ask them a few questions and confirm a couple bits of information that I thought I knew. You can’t get much older sounding than to fill your day with a lighthearted call to the Social Security office.
One of those bits of information I confirmed is what some cynical financial planners now call the Viagra Child Plan. It’s a lesser known clause contained in the Social Security bucket. So get ready for the informative stuff!
One of those bits of information I confirmed is what some cynical financial planners now call the Viagra Child Plan. It’s a lesser known clause contained in the Social Security bucket.
Here’s how it works:
If a man or woman begins to collect Social Security retirement benefits, whether at age 62 or beyond, and that said old geezer has a minor child, that child gets the equivalent of 1/2 the codger’s Social Security payment. The child in question can be a natural child, adopted or step-child; doesn’t matter. I am fairly confident that the framers of the Social Security system did not have in mind old farts like me marrying 26-year old Filipinas and then having babies, but what the hell. So the point is, when I begin Social Security retirement benefits, at whatever age, if Janet and I have a young child, that child will receive payments from our friends in the Federal government until he/she is 18 or 19. Isn’t democracy wonderful!
Our plan regarding the money is simple and responsible; we’re going to take those checks and place the money on black at Caeser’s in Vegas! No, no, no. Actually we will put it in a fund for education. That way, whether I am alive or not our child at age 18 will be able to afford college or a cup of coffee, whichever is then cheaper. Or possibly it might pay for my urn.
BTW, once you reach age 61 you will find that you are inundated by invitations to go to free dinners where they discuss your impending Social Security windfall and financial planning. Janet and I went to one. There were about twenty couples in the room and let’s just say, we were unique. The fortyish financial planner went over a large number of Social Security strategies and their ramifications before mentioning the Viagra Strategy. After explaining it, wiseass that I am, I raised my hand and asked if I still got the benefit even if I didn’t use Viagra.
And They Said It Wouldn’t Last
Janet and I are just about at our one year anniversary. No, not our wedding anniversary which happens in September, but the one year anniversary of Janet arriving here in Portland and the United States. It’s been a great adventure and we’ve learned a lot, not only about each other but about our respective countries. Here’s a few things we’ve learned:
There are poor, homeless people in the U.S. Yes, it’s true. Coming from the Philippines, where Filipinas are taught that all Americans are rich, it shocked Janet that there are homeless, hungry, and very poor people living here. How can a country as rich as ours have people living on the streets? Frankly, it baffles me too and I can’t explain it to her. It’s outside my scope of experience.
OK, there was the time when I was young and homeless in Santa Cruz, CA, but I was crashing on the beach so that sort of doesn’t count. At least I had the ocean to bathe in.
Why does a hard working girl like Janet earn less than 1/10th of what her lazy-assed husband makes? With no real knowledge of Keynesian economics I can’t explain the relationship between work and compensation. Maybe if I were Milton Friedman…but then I’d be dead. So instead of trying to explain it, we’ve just decided to spend it.
Labor is just a tad bit more expensive here. In our backyard we have the largest oak tree in our neighborhood. It needed extensive trimming and I’d procrastinated the past couple years. Finally I bit the bullet and had the guy I’ve used before come and bid the job, including chipping and hauling away a massive amount of wood. He bid it at $800 which I thought was a bargain. Janet was appalled! This week three laborers wailed away at the tree for an entire day. She simply could not understand why her crazy husband would spend $800 on such an effort, particularly when for the same money we could have bought 80 dresses at H&M. In the Philippines we would have paid 3 laborers 300 pesos each ($7) to do the work. Of course we’d have to provide them with lunch too. At least I didn’t have to spring for that here.
The cold causes massive cramps. After a few months here I noticed that Janet constantly had muscle cramps. OK, it was fun massaging her but it baffled me. I Goggled it and figured it was some kind of potassium deficiency or something. Finally, we figured it out. Once the fall hit and the temperature went below 60, Janet, unused to anything involving the word cold, would tense up her muscles, like a body builder posing, and by the end of the day she’d cramp up. I would remind her that as the old geezer of the couple, I should be the one requiring daily massages, but that didn’t fly.
What does a real estate agent in the Philippines do? I contacted a real estate agent in Cebu before our April trip. Told him we were just beginning the process of looking, just wanted to see how things worked in the Philippines and were not ready to buy. We set a day to meet and see a few properties in Janet’s home town. The guy shows up with the owner of the properties. The owner, a middle aged Filipina, was what in my culture used to be referred to as a “character.” Of course in the U.S. it’s totally verboten to bring the property owner, but in the Philippines she ran the show and the agent just sat back, said and did nothing. She showed us several properties that were quite nice and in the end asked up which one we wanted to buy. Obviously the agent hadn’t communicate our wishes to her in the least and we found out that…
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A firm price is a fluid concept in the Philippines. Of all the houses we saw, one stood out above the rest. 2800 sq. ft., European construction, large yard and pool, Janet really liked it. Truth be told so did I. Since I have gotten very good at converting pesos to dollars in my head I knew that the “firm” price of 6.5 million pesos was about $150,000. She informed us of several different ways that we could finance the house with no interest. I was a bit annoyed since I was not in buying mode which had clearly been communicate to the agent. Finally to quiet her I said, “If I ever get to the point of buying, I will pay cash.” “Only six million if cash,” she immediate announced.
After we were done we received constant texts from the woman: which house did we like the best, did we want to meet again to discuss, when were we leaving, etc. Finally it was the morning we were leaving Alcoy, heading for Cebu City and our flight home. We were standing on the side of the national highway, waiting for the bus and another text came in. I rolled my eyes. “Just tell her five million,” Janet said. “See what she says. It’ll be fun.” I texted the lady that sorry we were leaving and that Janet runs our finances and reminded me that our budget was no more than five million ($116,000). I figured that would keep her quiet till we got on the plane or she’d counter offer and I’d ignore her. Nope. Within five minutes the text came in; she’d take the five million. Course I still wasn’t buying but it was an interesting experience.
It became even more interesting a few days later when I exchanged correspondence with an online UK friend living in Alcoy, who had coincidentally rented the very same house we saw two years before. He said that she had tried to sell the property to him and his partner, but that maybe she didn’t completely own the land that the house stood on. Something to be careful of if we ever buy property in the Philippines.
Be careful about what you blog about. Janet has been incredibly supportive of this effort and hasn’t objected to anything I’ve written, which is pretty amazing if you go back and read all my blogs. On the other hand just today I got on the elevator at work and there was my manager’s manager’s manager. A nice guy he immediate mentioned he read a few of my postings. I quickly searched my memory to see if I’d said anything disparaging about my job or employer. Hopefully he realizes that any comment I made about being ridiculously overpaid was a joke 🙂
She Loves Me…She Loves Me Not…She Loves Me…She Loves Me Not
A commenter (one of the 5 or 6 we have) recently told the story of an ex-girlfriend. Seems in a moment of pillow talk he asked her why she was with him, a middle-aged foreigner, rather than a young Pinoy. She responded with something like she “wanted to eat better than dried fish and rice every day.” He wasn’t moved by her response.
Now personally, as I’ve blogged before, Janet loves dried fish and rice and would probably eat it every day if she could get it – and if the rest of us could stand the smell.
But the reader took the response to mean that not only his girl, but all Filipinas, are with their Western partners for only one reason – more dried fish 🙂 No no, I suppose he really meant – for money.
Being on more forums with expats and travelers to the Philippines than I should be reading, I can say that this is a common, if odd, opinion. Guys move to the Philippines with their wives, or move there and find a wife or girlfriend, and often declare that most of the women there are only interested in a man’s cash. Of course they are quick to add that their wife doesn’t fall into that category. They were smart enough to find “one of the good ones.” More likely they are smart enough not to give their true opinion on a public forum that their wife or her infinite number of friends and relatives might read.
So, why are they with us? Why are we with them? What is this thing called love? If you’ve read any of my other wiseassed blog pieces you know I won’t be answering the last question.
But it reminds me of the fact that Janet often asks why. It’s night, maybe we’re in bed, and we whisper loving words to each other. I tell her “I love you very much,” and she asks, “Why do you love me?”
I have no good answers. I mean, saying “you’re cute/hot/a good lover,” not only isn’t an accurate answer to the love question, it could be considered insulting. “What, you only love my body!!! What happens when I get older and put on 5 pounds?”
“You’ll still be hot to me, baby.” You can imagine that this conversation (and any subsequent nighttime activities) will not end well.
Usually when Janet asks the “why” question, I hem and haw, come up with something, but it’s pretty inadequate. I’m a writer but not a poet. I know that I love Janet, but am not completely sure what that means, nor if an adequate “why” even exists.
So why do people love each other? And does the answer have anything to do with marriage – or money? After all I was in love when I was 13 – and 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, and 19 – all with different girls. And thank God I didn’t marry any of them.
I think our parents and grandparents and their predecessors, in previous eras in which most marriages actually lasted successfully, if not always happily, innately understood that you needed two people to make life work. Somebody had to make money, somebody had to care for the children, somebody had to cook, somebody took care of the house, somebody had to make sure you could afford the house and keep it from falling apart, somebody had to hitch the team of horses to the wagon or later on look under the hood of the car with a knowing “ah ha.” There was no way out of the realization that it took two adults. I suspect that in those days also, connection was more important. Today people live alone more often than ever in the U.S. and seem OK with it; in the Philippines and much of the world, living alone is almost inconceivable, emotionally and financially .
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Now, I’m not an anti-feminist, so unlike some men, I’m not going to blame it all on feminism. But I will say that at some point people figured out that with modern conveniences, one adult could do it all, albeit badly: work, hire child care, throw packaged food in the microwave, throw the dishes in a dishwasher, hitch up the team of horses (aka drive the car), etc. You could do it alone, especially if you only had the standard 2.01 children per household that the CIA says we have in the U.S. Why the CIA keeps such stats, I am not sure; tracking the number of enemies I suppose. They also say that the average in the Philippines is 3.06 and 6.08 in Somalia. My guess is that there are not a lot of divorces in Somalia!
So way back when, people chose spouses with whom they not only had an emotional connection, but who they hoped would make a good working partner. Expressions such as, “he has a good future,” were common and meant the guy could take care of the family and ultimately they’d be driving to soccer games in a Cadillac Escalade.
The guy might equally say, “she’ll make a good mother,” meaning she had a big pair of tutoys to feed the brood. By the way, I love the word tutoys and tease Janet that she has “two toys.” OK, I’m a bit immature for 61.
But as I say, somewhere along the line, as a society we went from believing that marriage is partly about love and partly pragmatic, to the current notion that it should be totally emotional. Smarter anthropology types have talked about romantic love being a modern, Western concept. Is it any wonder that most modern marriages fail; the emotions fade, or at least change, and what else is there? OK, there’s still the Cadillac and the tutoys but you get my meaning.
But it strikes me that in many Fil-Am marriages I know, the connection grows over time as the two realize that the spouse they chose is a true and reliable partner. I know it’s very old fashioned but Janet believes that part of her marital responsibility is to take care of me and I believe the same about caring for her. As time goes by and I see that this core belief is true, our bond grows stronger. I know that she will in fact care for me, and hope she knows the same about me toward her.
So let’s get back to the money thing, shall we. If an old fashioned girl believes that marriage is based on partnership, won’t she judge the guy first and foremost on how well he takes care of her?
And I can’t leave this subject without remarking about the food thing. Most Western guys as they get to know Filipinas, either online or in the field, remark at how strange it is that Filipinas seemed obsessed with food. Chats with Janet always began with “how was your lunch” or “what did you have for dinner.” In the U.S. where we take steady eating for granted it’s hard to relate to the notion, but eating is pretty damn important. And eating in the Philippines is an entirely social occasion. Before Janet arrived here I don’t think she ever ate a major meal alone in her life and to this day struggles when she has to eat alone. Me? I ate alone often and never thought twice about it.
In essence, food and what you had for your lunch/dinner is a pretty damn important thing to know. So in the Philippines asking what you ate is equivalent to saying, “hello, how are you?”
Is this so odd? In the U.S. two guys get together and one greets the other with, “how’s it hanging?” Frankly, I’d rather know what he had for lunch.
So guys, it’s not always about cash. Get your girl as much dried fish as she can handle. She’ll feel loved beyond conception – and well, you’re likely to get some tutoys that night.
The K-1 Visa & the 90-Day No Fault Marriage
I get asked by my friends, relatives and perfect strangers about the process of a foreigner coming to America (what – didn’t they see the Eddie Murphy movie) and getting married. I can’t tell you how many people asked the following: “Why don’t you just fly Janet over here for a month or two so you can get to know each other better?” Shit, why didn’t I think of that!
There’s tons of information available on obtaining Visas and getting married in the land of milk and honey (OK, that’s Israel, but you get the idea) but none of that information will give you the real scoop on what happens, the hows, and the pain, joy and hysteria involved. So, I will!
As Americans we forget that one of our greatest freedoms is that little blue thing we’re issued (not Viagra – get your head out of the gutter – I mean a U.S. passport). You can go everywhere with it, other than Cuba. It’s essentially a “Get Out of Jail Free Card” (for some people literally). But most countries don’t have that sort of freedom and if you are from most of the countries on the planet, the United States is not thrilled to have you arrive here.
So, if you’re a Philippines citizen what do you do? Yes, there are educational visas and work visas but the process is lengthy, expensive and in the end rarely do you get permission. Or you can be a sibling of a naturalized American citizen, which means we’ll see you here somewhere around 2050, give or take a decade. Or say you are one of those middle class Filipinos I’ve previously discussed. Why not get a tourist visa; Americans can get one to almost any country in the world. Well, you’re not an American. In order to get a tourist Visa you have to prove beyond any doubt that you will visit the US – and leave. By the time you might get that tourist visa they’ll be filling in the Grand Canyon. In short, unless you are the rare Filipino politician or fat cat, there is no way for the average Filipino(a) citizen to get here.
But there is the fiancé or spousal visa process. No problem; fill out some paperwork, send in some money, and bang, boom in six months or so you’re here. Easy, right? Um, not exactly.
But there is the fiancé or spousal visa process. No problem; fill out some paperwork, send in some money, and bang, boom in six months or so you’re here. Easy, right? Um, not exactly.
First, there’s the paperwork process which is Draconian. Any mistake, even of the most minor nature, and the paperwork will get kicked back. Janet and I spent hours and days online scouring every line of the paperwork for any mistake. Now, I was a technical writer at the time, pretty damn good at preparing accurate documentation, but the stress of trying to get everything perfect got to me. And even if it’s perfect, the USCIS has the occasional habit of simply losing one of the dozens of documents you submitted – and then blaming you.
How about money? I’m a software engineer with a good income (far more than I’m worth); so I figured, no problem. Wrong. By the time you’re all done, it will put a serious strain on most budgets. Speaking of money, you have to prove to the USCIS that you, the petitioner, make 125% of the current U.S. poverty line. So make sure you don’t lose your job during the process or it might be a do-over. For that matter, many self-employed men who make very good money, don’t qualify because, how should I put this, their true income is not reflected on their tax returns. Their sweet, naïve fiancé, travels to Manila for the grueling embassy interview and finds out her fiancé does not make enough to qualify for the Visa. It happens every day.
Oh and speaking of Manila, once your initial paperwork is approved, you are able to schedule your embassy interview in Manila. And prior to that you must take a medical exam. Now that doesn’t mean you go to your local doctor and have him listen to your heart or cough a couple times. It means you go to St. Lukes Hospital in Manila (the only accepted facility in the entire country) for a two day (yes, you heard that right) two day exam. And if they find anything wrong with your young fiancé, let’s say a shadow on the lung, she gets to spend another glorious six months in beautiful downtown Manila for TB treatment and a re-testing. Janet had never had any serious or even semi-serious illness in her life, but was terrified by the medical exam, as well as the half dozen shots she needed. And let’s not forget that to even get said examination, you must arrive early at St. Lukes and take a number; Janet arrived at 2:30 AM. Is this all still sounding easy?
But wait there’s more: the Philippines requires the prospective émigré to take a class and get interviewed by the CFO. This interview is often tougher than the embassy interview. After all, the U.S. embassy mostly wants to ensure that everything is legal and on the up and up. The CFO tells the girls about all the terrible things that can happen abroad and the interviewer questions why the girl wants to go. In our case, after the CFO interview, Janet contacted me panicked because she hadn’t yet been approved. The CFO Officer had doubts and wanted to see Janet again. Why? Because Janet was young and pretty and marrying old codger, Dave. How to prove to the officer that our relationship was legitimate? Janet left her tons of photos of the two of us together, email and text correspondence and was simply told to come back and the officer would decide.
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In the end Janet got through the Visa process! I promised I would fly in and take her home with me. What I hadn’t considered was, would the actual physical Visa be ready by the time we were ready to fly out. Janet arranged for the Visa to be shipped to a To Go location, sort of like Fed-Ex in the Philippines. Unfortunately, they failed to contact her when the visa arrived and it sat for days. Finally they contacted her and told her that if she didn’t pick it up by the next day it would be sent back to Manila. So Janet and her sister hopped on a bus for the leisurely, fun-filled 3 hour bus ride from Alcoy to Cebu, got the Visa and returned by bus to Alcoy. Easy and stress free – right?
But now comes the truly easy part – we’ve finally arrived in the U.S. for 90 days of fun and sun. There’s even a reality show currently running, “90 Day Visa,” all about the thrilling escapades of these wacky couples. The show, like most reality TV, is entertaining bullshit.
Now I tend to be a planner; I’m older and allegedly mature. Before Janet arrived, I tried to project a budget for everything I could think of; the wedding; clothes she would need (no fleece jackets are needed in the Philippines); and just daily life changes.
Here’s what Janet (with my assistance) had to do in those 90 days: get used to a brand new city; check out the malls, public transportation (yes, of course, all Filipinos know how to use light rail); grocery shopping; finding the best local Asian stores; finding lechon; finding a Filipino restaurant; getting used to a new, and badly organized house; getting used to an old, and badly aging husband to be. Also, those 90 days gave me the opportunity to leisurely explain to Janet how everything works in the United States. And let’s not forget language. Despite the fact that Janet’s English is very good, speaking American English 24-hours a day is exhausting and her nose was bleeding constantly.
Which reminds me – I wanted to find her friends. So, before she arrived I hooked up with a Fil-Am group whose events we began to attend, which not only helped her make friends, it gave us a support system for the wedding.
Oh, that’s right – the wedding. That has to happen in those 90 days too. I had planned to have it in our backyard, which is a good sized space. Before Janet arrived I spent weeks cleaning out the yard and trying to get things semi-ready. It was a losing proposition. Finally, one day my neighbor (who has the showplace yard of the neighborhood) leaned over our fence and asked me how the wedding preparations were going – and most importantly, “Hey, would you like to use our yard for the wedding?” I couldn’t say yes fast enough.
Also, understand that women are women all over the world, which meant that when Janet arrived she needed to choose rings, flowers, food, a cake, decorate the house, etc. The day of our outdoor wedding, September 22nd, it rained. Hell, it’s Oregon; of course it rained. But Janet was determined. We got a ten minute break in the weather and did the wedding then. Afterwards, the reception, which was also supposed to be outdoors, was crammed into our home.
In the end it all happened, it all worked, and Janet and I survived it. It’s a story to tell – well maybe not to the grandkids – but to all of you. I’d do it again in a heartbeat – with Janet that is.
Easy peasy, right?