Leaky Faucets

All the malls in the Philippines have uniformed private security guards at their entrances, checking bags presumably to make sure no one is bringing in weapons or bombs. Despite this security, there is an occasional incident at a Filipino mall.

The other day, while visiting SM mall in Cebu, I found a loophole in the security, unintentionally of course. If you go into the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, which has its own outside entrance, you can then go into the mall without passing any security. If there are any malcontents reading this in the Philippines, please ignore this advice. I mention it for anecdotal purposes only, not for instructional use.

You know the story of Sysiphus from Greek mythology?  The guy who was sentenced to an eternal hell of pushing a boulder up a hill.  Once he got to the top of the hill he had to start all over.  Forever.

Well, my version of Sysiphean hell would be this: I’m sitting in the barber’s chair, my arms under the smock.  Tiny, freshly cut hairs are sticking to my cheeks and nose, tickling and tingling.  I can’t move my arms to free my hand in order to scratch this uncomfortable itch because I don’t want to interrupt the haircut.  Well, the hell part would be if this went on forever, and I’m unable to relieve this horrible itch.  Argh!!!  This is the type of thing I think about while I’m getting my haircut.

Lately I’ve been spending a lot of time staring at the bottom of a swimming pool.  This activity is not without purpose, though.  I stopped running over a week ago to allow my strained Achilles tendon (which I hurt playing basketball over a month ago) to heal itself.  So the only exercise I can really do is swimming laps at my gym.   It’s a little dull in the sense that I can’t bring my iPod into the pool and I can’t watch TV.   Nor can I let my eyes wander around the gym and watch the other people come and go like I can do when on the treadmill.  So I’m basically left with my thoughts while my eyes can only fixate themselves on the dark blue line underneath them at the bottom of the pool.  Yes, every few strokes I need to turn my head to the left so I can breathe, but it’s hardly enough time to see anything of interest.

But as monotonous as swimming can be, I find myself getting more and more into it as I try to swim longer and faster each time.  Really, it’s just a placeholder until I can run again, but even then I hope to be able to work swimming into my workout routine.  It’s certainly better for the body and it also works muscles that I don’t get around to when I’m just running.

How do you know you’re truly a parent? When you refer to yourself in the third person when no one else is around. “Okay, daddy’s going to do some push-ups now.” I just said that in my head. 

I know I complain sometimes about some things here, but I think it’s just part of the adjustment process. It is certainly better for me to focus on the things here that are not available in the US rather than the opposite.

One thing is the amazing selection of fresh fruit. Here are a few photos of the pineapples we bought last weekend in Tagaytay, a mountain area about 70km or so south of Manila on the island of Luzon. On the left is the stand where the fruit is sold. The picture on the right shows the pineapples growing in the field adjacent to the roadside where they are sold. They cost about 100 pesos ($2.50) for 8 of the small ones. So sweet I swear they inject sugar into them with a syringe. Pineapples in the states are absolutely not like these.

 The misuse of the apostrophe here continues to amuse me.  Normally it’s the lack of one in a sign such as “Joes Store.”  Sometimes, though, an apostrophe mysteriously appears when it has no business being there.  The other day in Tagaytay, I noticed a poster advertising the upcoming “Steak, Prawns and Lobsters’ Night.”  Does this mean that the crustaceans will get the rare chance to turn the tables and boil their human nemeses alive?  If it truly is their night, I have to assume that would be the case.

Recently, on the podcast of NPR’s “Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me,” one of the stories in the guess-the-fake-story segment “Bluffthe Listener” relayed the tale of a group that forcefully advocates for correcting signs with poor punctuation and spelling. This group, of which I should probably be a member, would have a field day in the Philippines.

Today is tax day in the U.S. and I just want to take this opportunity to publicly (at least to the extent that the 3 people who read this blog constitutes a public forum) thank my daughter, Ana, for being born in 2007.  Thank you Ana for allowing your mother and I to claim you as a deduction and to receive a childcare tax credit.  We’ll be sure to buy you a nice book or toy when we get our refund. Today is tax day in the U.S. and I just want to take this opportunity to publicly (at least to the extent that the 3 people who read this blog constitutes a public forum) thank my daughter, Ana, for being born in 2007.  Thank you Ana for allowing your mother and I to claim you as a deduction and to receive a childcare tax credit.  We’ll be sure to buy you a nice book or toy when we get our refund.

 Bathrooms in thePhilippines are sometimes referred to as rest rooms, but they are most commonlycalled comfort rooms or CRs.  Inever thought about that name much, but as I stepped into the Men’s CR on the fast craft ferry returning to Cebu City from Tagbilaran, Bohol, it occurred tome that if a water closet lacks a toilet seat and tissue paper, it should berenamed the UR or Uncomfort Room.

Two days ago, I met for the first time someone from gloriousnation of Kazakhstan.  Like Borat,he is tall and thin.  But thecomparisons end there.  He is only21 years old, yet he is vey intelligent, friendly and open-minded.  His English is very good although hisaccent sometimes makes it difficult to comprehend.  The young man, named Anton, told me how he once crossed intoa neighboring country by hiking over a mountain.

I was tempted to ask him if he’d seen Borat, but I held back assuming that hisimpression of the film and the character and the treatment of his country wouldnot be very favorable.  Maybe, later,if I get to know him more, I will carefully broach the subject.  A Filipino guy we had dinner with lastnight came very close to bringing up the B-word when he found out Anton’snation of origin. ”Kazakhstan!  You’rekidding,” he laughed.  “You’re askingfor it.”  I’m not sure if Antonunderstood what he was getting at. Speaking Cebuano, Aya quickly told him not to mention it.  I later reinforced her warning inEnglish.  Thankfully, he heldback.  I wonder how many others whohave met him since Borat rose to fame have squelched the temptation to tease oreven to innocently inquire his opinion of his fictitious countryman.  Yes, I wanted to know if he felt thesame way abut asshole Uzbekistan or if he wanted to throw me down the well(actually he didn’t react upon hearing that I was Jewish) but I’ll save thosequeries for a later date.  Orperhaps not.

I’ve been doing a lot of traveling this month, so much that it seems that I’m hardly at home. I haven’t left the Philippines, though. Twice to Manila, several times to my in-laws beach house in SW Cebu and once to Bantayan Island in NW Cebu. I can’t really complain as we’ve spent a lot of time at the beach and checking out different resorts. Manila, though is exhausting. All we do there is meet and eat and meet and eat. And sit in traffic mostly on the horrific Edsa highway. I grit my teeth as I see the MRT or LRT train speeding by as we crawl forward. I wish to be on that train (after 10 years in New York, I really became a train person), but alas, my companions always choose the auto–the worst of all modes of ground transport. And Manila is so filthy and polluted. If I could only find a giant sponge to wipe the whole city with, cleasing the greyish sheen off of every last building. They say they do emissions tests there but I have yet to see any evidence of that, especially with the buses and jeepneys. After spending all this time in the capital, I’m grateful to live in Cebu–it’s much cleaner and smaller with much less traffic.  Manila does have some good points, though, like more diverse and higher quality restaurants, more educated and diverse residents. What else? Hmm… Yeah, I found a very interesting book store in SM Mega Mall. There are so many malls in Manila, it makes Hong Kong look like a commercial-free city. I have been told that a lot of Manila residents only go to the mall for the air conditioning, but with the amount of them that exist, I have to assume that some of the mall goers do actually make purchases. The malls in Manila are much nicer than in Cebu (not that I really care that much), and many of them are decidedly upscale.

I’m back in Cebu now to catch some sleep, but tomorrow we’re going back to the beach house, followed by a boat trip to another island, Bohol, on Sunday. We’ll be back in Cebu in Monday before traveling to Manila again late next week. Need to catch my breath. The traveling is pretty interesting, and certainly better than just sitting at a desk all day, but it does get tiring and tiresome at some point. And I’ve figured out something. I really only need two things in a hotel to make me happy: a reliable and fast Internet connection (preferably free and preferably wireless, but I’ll settle for a reasonably charged, wired connection) and a place to run. The VIP Suites in Makati last week had the free wi-fi but new gym. The desk person said there was a gym nearby where I could work out for 100 pesos per day. The bellman escorted me there a few blocks away, where we found out they were out of business. This week we stayed in Ortigas at a place called Malayan. They have a wired Internet connection for PP500/day (about $12.50 US) and a gym on the 40th floor rooftop. The gym is shabby and desolate and the equipment outdated, but it would certainly do. Unfortnately, I left my running shoes at home because I didn’t know about the gym. We’ll stay at Malayan again next week and I’ll be sure to bring my running gear.