Door to Beach

A Photographic Blog: a series of photos taken between my place and the beach, starting with the view from my balcony.





Leaving the building...




This little boy was very interested in me taking photos and passed by on his bike a few times! He was too shy to speak to me, however!





My neighbour keeps [and trains] fighting cockerels. Terrifying birds [grin] but thankfully not as noisy as the ones in Malapascua.






Men at Work! They're building a new drain under the street. Will be nice - there was an open ditch there before - not pleasant on a warm day!





This 'Lagoon' [that's what they call it!] also smells! And someone is building a very posh-looking restaurant right next to it! Does the Developer not know?!





This is The Road!




A food stall... could even call it a drive-thru food stall!






Yes indeed! We do have a ferris wheel... kind of! It's smaller than most houses!




A "barhoop" seller [I am not sure of the spelling]. It's a health drink, which I think is made from Soya. It's popular in the morning and you hear the sellers walking the streets, calling out "BarHOOOOOP"!





Indeed.

Positive Thinking

First the book... then, inevitably [grin] will come the movie!



Thanks M@! Class - I love it!

Right, so all I've got to do now is a write a damn book...! [sigh]

Today

I started my day with a Filipino breakfast - you have to be in the mood [smile]: Longanisa [a sweet pork sausage - tastes like chorizo fried in honey], garlic rice and a fried egg. Yummy! For dessert I had a stack of pills for my ears. [I'm on steroids! I keep thinking about Jeff Wode's head!] Then I had some jobs to do.

I am looking for a place to live at the moment. It's always hard to find a new place, wherever you are, although in some ways it's much easier here. The Filipinos are, as I have said many times, some of the friendliest, most helpful and accommodating people you could ever want to meet: the moment I mentioned to a few people that I was looking the messages starting flooding-in to say that someone's friend/uncle/cousin had a place I should look at!

However, the problems are as follows:

There are no road signs in Boracay. This is because there are only two roads: the first, known as The Road, runs from the Port at the S-Eastern tip, about two thirds of the way up the Island until... well... until the end of The Road, basically. About halfway up The Road is a right turn which leads to Bulabog Beach and then up The Hill. This is known as The Bulabog Road.

Of course these are not the only thoroughfares - oh no! Leading off & beyond both roads is a whole network of dirt tracks and alley-ways, which is where everyone lives. Most of the alleys are about 2-3m wide and passable by motorbike, some are winding tracks through the grass, others are tiny alleys between the houses. These can be alarming: only children can pass one-another easily. For adults if you meet any on-coming 'traffic' it is a fairly intimate encounter [I often feel I should, at the very least, introduce myself first!] involving sticking to the wall Spiderman style and squeezing past apologetically.

Since none of the alleys have names the locals find their way around using local landmarks. This works since everyone around here knows each other, and knows where everyone else lives. If you're a new kid in town, it's hard.

Today I went to look at a place which I knew was near The Bulabog Road. I started by texting the landlord [everyone text's here - texts are cheap, phone-calls are not] whose name, charmingly, was Dudes. We arranged a time and confirmed the price [the 'first price' obviously - there's always room for negotiation!] then came the tough bit - directions.

I decided to phone:

"Walk down the Bulabog Road," he said, "past the swamp" [not kidding], "look for the little Church," [it was a shed] "then turn right down the alley next to my Uncle Ronnie's house..."

"aaah. What does your Uncle Ronnie's house look like?" I asked. There was a pause.
"You don't know Uncle Ronnie?" he sounded surprised.
"Ummm, no" I replied, slightly bemused, I have never met Dudes!
"But he is the Uncle of your friend Noel also!"
"What? Noel?!" [I do have a friend called Noel, we work together.]
"Yes! Noel is my cousin!"
"But...!"
"Noel! Your friend! From work!"
"Yes, yes, I know Noel! But how do you know where I work?"
"You are Jane, right?"
"Yes"
"And I think you are English?"
"Yes"
"So you are Jane, the new English Instructor who works with Noel! Flowers!" [I have a tattoo of flowers on my back]
"Aaaah, right, yes"
"So you know Uncle Ronnie?"
"No, I've never met him."
"Oh! Then you must come round!"
"That would be lovely, but for today - what does his house look like?"
"Oh don't worry, I ask him to sit outside. He knows you!"
He did, nice chap!

Every house I visit it's like this! After Dudes place I went to see two places owned by Oscar. We met at his daughter's Cafe. Oscar was surprised that I didn't know where Bing's Cafe was. "Just down the alley!" he said, "by the green 3-storey house!" I found the house easy enough - 3 storey's! Not many of those around! The alley involved walking through someones back garden - under the washing line, carefully manoeuvring past a gang of fierce Warrior Cockerels and climbing over some building materials. Being careful not to wake the man sleeping on top. And I didn't like the room.

Next, I had to buy a new watchstrap - mine snapped at breakfast. I was directed to KC's place ["Just down the alley! The one by Jo-Jo's house! What? You don't know Jo-Jo?! But he is the cousin of the husband of your friend Anna-Lou!"] KC makes hand-made flip-flops on an ancient hand-powered sewing machine. English readers may well have seen one, if you've ever been to a Museum about the Industrial Revolution.

He took my watch and compass and threaded them onto a thin piece of binding, he then mounted them onto a thicker piece of binding, stitching it all carefully. I explained I was a diver and that if the strap came loose I could loose my watch into the depths. He emptied a sack full of clips, in various sizes, onto the floor. We found one the right width, but it was very chunky. He produced a very sharp blade and pared it down to the right thickness - perfectly! The strap then looped through the clip and Velcro was added, made to measure for my wrist. Finally he stitched an extra 'catch' on the end so the strap couldn't slip back through the clip. Brilliant! I have a perfectly designed, beautifully made, diving watch strap, with integrated compass! It took half an hour and cost me a pound!

Later this afternoon I am meeting Noel to go and see his Uncle's [not Ronnie] friend's place. Aparently, it's just off The Road, near the bike shop - you don't know where is the Bike Shop?! But it's owned by the brother of Junas, who you know from...!

Classy

There is a brand of condoms here in the Philippines called "Fullup"! [chortle] They come in two varieties: "Zero Wrinkly" and "Tony Wrinkly"

I have no idea what this means!

At the Clinic

I went to the Doctor last night [I've hurt my ears - boo.] The doctors here are excellent but the clinic is bereft: one tiny room which opens onto the street, in the corner there is screened cubicle for examinations. But other than that there's no privacy, no space, the patients sit on two benches, whilst the doctors sit on a plastic chair in front of them. We all listen to each others complaints and sometimes other patients will contribute their own thoughts on whatever ailment is being discussed. It is embarrassing and can be uncomfortable, but there is also a certain amount of solidarity between the sick!

On really busy days, the nurse will put a couple of plastic chairs on the pavement outside, where she will take blood pressure, etc, before the patient goes inside. Children often gather to watch.

Last night, however, there was only one other patient besides me: a little boy, about 7 years old, who had stepped on a Sea Urchin. It was awful - he was screaming. I don't mean frightened or frustrated screams... I mean real screams. Screams and sobs of pain and bewilderment. At one point he was shouting at his mother, who was also sobbing, I think he just couldn't grasp what was happening to him. I don't speak Tagalog, but I am pretty sure he was saying something like "make it stop".

An older lady, Grandma I expect, was also with them. When the mother couldn't cope anymore she stepped in to hold the boy still. He tried to fight her, to break free, but she silently gripped his wrists, whilst tears streamed down her impassive face.

The Doctor was very calm and patient, but I could see she was also becoming distressed by the situation. The little boys foot was starting to turn black and there were still spines to remove. He was getting more and more distressed, he was drenched in sweat, his hair sticking to his face, he eyes were becoming bloodshot and his distress was making it hard for him to breath. But the Doctor couldn't give him a break - the longer the spines stay in the more effect the poison will have.

In the street outside was a group of children - friends, brothers and sisters - silent brown faces with dark, round eyes. The littlest ones were trembling, but none of them ran away, they all stayed. There were others, people who had heard the screams as they walked by and stopped to see if they could help. The three women who run the food stall on the corner closed down and came and sat with the children. The nurses put some chairs out on the street and and a tiny girl, no more than three, curled up on a chair, sucking her thumb, with her other hand wrapped around her head, to shut out the noise.

My doctor, Jonas, grimaced at each new scream while we talked and he examined my ears. Before I left I asked about the little boy: "one more spine to go" he said and shrugged, "there's not really anything else we can do." I asked how frequent were Sea Urchin injuries. He said this was the ninth this month, but usually it's adults, "at least they understand" he said.

"Tonight," he gestured towards the boy and lowered his voice "only three spines. Two weeks ago, a man came in, I must remove 33 spines from his feet, it take more than 3 hours, " he shook his head sorrowfully, "but he will be OK.







The strange thing is, as a diver, I see Sea Urchins everyday. They are no threat to me: I am not standing on the bottom and they don't move [during the day]. I quite like them. They are pretty - often the colours are beautiful. I know they are poisonous and I always warn my customers not to touch them. But really I don't give them much thought. I think I'll see them differently now.

10 things / 5 things

Ten things I love about the Philippines:

[1] I love the way shop assistants tell you what you're looking at while you shop:

"shoes ma'am... white dress ma'am...
tee-shirt ma'am"

I never know what to reply?

"errr, yes! Indeed it is!
Thank-you!"

[2] I love that the advertising is still honest: a brand of Filipino hot-dog sausages were having a special promotion last week. Their slogan was:

"New & improved! Now you can eat more
than two without feeling sick!"

Brilliant!

[3] I love the way Filipinos always offer to share their food... [especially hot-dogs!] and that it is rude to say No! It can be awkward, a few days ago I had to sit down to sticky rice pudding with condensed milk straight after a big lunch. It was a struggle!

[4] I love that the ocean is so changeable and incomprehensibly unpredictable. Currents can change direction in moments, conditions are impossible to predict and you never know what you might see. On any given dive you might see sharks, turtles, tuna, marlin... or absolutely nothing.

[5] The sexual & platonic liberation: Transvestites are no big deal over here - no-one bats an eye-lid. Gay couples are never stared at or harassed - it wouldn't even cross people's minds. I have even come to appreciate the blatant prostitution - it's in your face, but at least it's honest. Saw a hooker recently wearing a tee-shirt that read: "cheap, safe and friendly" [grin] I also love the platonic liberation - male friends think nothing of having an arm around one-another or holding hands. Filipinos are tactile and it's just friendly. I like that.

[6] I love that when it rains it comes down in sheets and floods the streets in minutes. Then it stops abruptly and paradise resumes.

[7] Being called Jane! Obviously I like being called Jane everywhere I go - but over here they know the name! Having a name that is mostly a vowel sound and starts with a J can be problematic. In other places I have been variously known as: Shin, Yayne, Hanay, Gin, Zeen, Jiyne... the list is endless! But Jane is also a Filipino name! So far I have met two: little Jane from the shop [she's 8] thinks it's great that I have a 'Filipino name' and as a consequence we have a daily ritual of:

"Hi Jane"
"Hi Jane!"
"How are you Jane?"
"I'm fine Jane" etc

Which she finds endlessly amusing and I have become resigned to! [I'm joking, she's a lovely child, I like her.]

[8] I love the way when Filipinos drink alcohol, they drink from the same cup! They poor a shot, the first person drinks, then passes the bottle & cup on to the next person. [They also drink all their spirits neat, with a water chaser.]

[9] I love Taglish! Officially the language here is Tagalog, the second language is English. Unofficially everyone speaks Taglish. In Taglish all numbers plus certain phrases are English. For example: I caught the local TV news last night. A man was giving a statement, it went something like this:

"Ang ba pusoy kamitin 50-50 chance nangarak ka abutin mo 75% chance mangbay ang kay angdang faulty electrical
wiring upang bitiin makamit extreme
fashion kayo ba ito'y buhay make a full
recovery"

Brilliant!

[10] Black-outs: The power goes out here a lot. Usually every day, usually a few times a day. I don't love that [grin]. What I love is the way Filipinos react - it's like hitting a pause button. Remember musical statues? It's like that! The moment the power goes, everyone stops - street sellers sit down and waitresses stand still - I was in the Deli the other evening when the power went, the Deli has a back-up generator so they still had light, but none-the-less the Assistant stopped making my cheese sandwich until the power came back on! When the power comes back everyone cheers!

Five things I hate about the Philippines

[1] Cockroaches. They are big, they are many and they are everywhere! Ugh. When they run around on my raffia-covered walls they make a rustling sound and sometimes I dream that things are crawling on me... "paranoia" you say? Yeah, that's what I keep telling myself too.

Until last night, I would have said the biggest were about 2" long. Big enough. Last night, I opened the door to get some air and something fell off the door onto my foot. From the weight of it, I thought it must be a lizard, but then it scuttled and I knew. Bravely, I ran away making a funny yelping sound, which I had no idea I could make. I glared from a distance - it was nearly 3" long. Eeurrgh. Fortunately, having recently certified as a Dive Instructor [hurrah!] I am in possession of a huge tome-ish Instructor Manual. I threw it. Nothing moved - victory was mine. Half an later curiosity got the better of me and I went back to check - the Manual had landed on it's body, pinning it to the ground [and crushing it surely?] but it's head was sticking out and it's whiskers were still moving! Arrrrgggghhhh! Bravely, I ran away. Fortunately, yesterday I had purchased a new bottle of water [I buy the giant ones that go onto office Water Dispensers] I put the water on top of the Manual and went to bed.

This morning the head was gone. I can think of two possibilities: [a] The monstrous cockroach, bench-pressed the Manual and the water and got himself out of there. [b] There were sufficient numbers of roaches in my room last night to eat the monsters head, leaving no trace.

I actually prefer to think he escaped.

I should have lifted the Manual and looked. But I didn't. I asked them to clean my room instead! Poor Lisa won't like it - but neither do I! "Cowardly!" you say? Yeah well... I saw 3 big sharks in the deep blue yesterday morning and felt nothing but exhilaration. We all have our limits.

[2] Electricity: The wiring here is awful. I electrocuted myself last week turning on a lamp. It threw me across the room and my arm was tingly until the next morning [sigh].

[3] Sleeping with a fan on: It's too windy! Obviously you can't sleep without it because you wake-up in a pool of sweat... but with it, I have anxious dreams about low-flying helicopters and wake up with a stiff neck. Boo.

[4] Can I say cockroaches again? They are by far the worst thing! And they fly! Do they usually fly? I don't think so. They don't fly very well, however, and sometimes crash into your head... ugh.

[5] OK, cockroaches three times is a bit much... there must be something else I hate? Nope, it's going to have to be cockroaches - I hate their whiskers/antennae or whatever they are. They twitch in a gross and sinister manner... did I mention they were everywhere? [sigh]

Blogging Blues

I have just spent five days in the jungle. I could tell a tale of a steep, jungle-clad valley with a deep aqua-lime river winding through it. I could spin a yarn of thousands of indignant bats and a 2 metre emerald lizard. I could sketch a scene from days past of villagers digging themselves into caves, squeezed between hanging tree-roots and glittering stalagmites, to hide from invading soldiers... but I'm not going to... because I have the Blogging Blues.

What do I have to do to please you people?! Huh?! [assuming 'you people' are not actually a figment of my imagination]. What must I do to get a reaction? I thought Lablita would tug at your heart strings and squeeze a response out of you... but it seems little Labli left you cold. I thought the episode in Ging Ging Cafe would raise a few questions about the nature of tourism and cultures colliding... but apparently you didn't even raise an eyebrow. I had hoped that my Ferry troubles or my bizarre reception in Sibuyan might amuse you! But I guess not. Are you really so world-weary? Have you really heard it all before? [sigh]

After consideration, there are two possible reasons for this total wall of cyber-silence:

1. I have no readers. You are in fact my latest imaginary friends. Sadly imaginary friends can't make comments, encourage or criticise. As friends go, they're rubbish.

2. I have readers, but I have [as yet] completely failed to engage, interest or entertain you.

So what do I do? Are my blogs too long? Too short? To much about myself? Too much about other people? To much about people all together and not enough action? Does my blog need a flamboyantly evil villain and a couple of really good tricycle chases? Or some naked celebrities perhaps? Am I too random? Too glib? [grin] Not glib enough? [cheeky grin]

In case anyone was wondering, I am not in the luxurious position of needing a comments policy. So whatever you write will go up! Perhaps you are unsure of what a constitutes a comment? This online dictionary defines it as:

"a remark, observation, or criticism; gossip; talk; a criticism or interpretation, often by implication or suggestion; a note in explanation, expansion, or criticism of a passage in a book, article, or the like; explanatory or critical matter added to a text"

Which is more or less the same as my definition of a comment:

"anything, ANYTHING, that lets me know you're out there and I'm not just writing this for my Dad!"

Don't get me wrong! My Dad is a small, but worthy, audience and I shall continue to write this solely for him [and in the hope that I may pick-up a few stragglers on the way].

But for now, I'm going to the beach, to reflect upon the last few crazy days... that lizard! Crikey! It would've made a great blog. You [if you exist] missed out.



I'm not even gonna tell you what this is. But it looks to me like it might have a plan for world domination...