It's Like Pulling Teeth

I've had toothache for a couple of weeks now.  It started when I went to the bat cave but has settled down since and has periodically given me some pain, or moreover discomfort. 

As I have no immediate plans to go to Singapore or the UK I figured that I should perhaps get something done here before my whole jaw explodes in severe agony, forcing me to do something drastic.  As the pain seems to centre around the tooth at the back of my upper jaw I recalled my dentist in the UK several years ago wanting to yank out my perfectly good wisdom teeth.  When I asked him why, he declared they would undoubtedly give me problems later in life.  However, I didn't see that as reasonable enough cause to whip out perfectly good and serviceable teeth so to his dismay, I didn't let him.

Now I'm wondering whether than decision has come home to roost?  Especially as it doesn't feel like a conventional toothache (if there is such a thing) but feels like there's pressure on it from the adjacent wisdom tooth.  But I've convinced myself that at nearly 50 my teeth would have stopped growing some time ago so this can't possibly be the cause.  Besides, the pain had gone from being awful to mildly uncomfortable.

Nevertheless, I had a quandary: I felt as though I should get it looked at but I knew finding a decent and hygienic dentist here might prove to be a problem.  Then a piece of grey filling came out with my chewing gum, which spurred me into action.

So I looked on the internet and found a recommendation and booked an appointment - although an appointment wasn't entirely necessary, all I had to do was jump in the car and go down to the clinic there and then.

Of course, my initial reservations weren't unfounded and whilst the clinic wasn't exactly dirty it didn't  exactly inspire confidence either.

The dentist asked me what was wrong then proceeded to have a look around in my mouth and poke about with a miniature, spindly crow bar, tugging and jabbing at the filling so hard at times that I thought he would dislodge it regardless.  He said he couldn't find anything wrong with it so he did an x-ray.  Nothing wrong with that either.  So he filed my tooth down like I was some thoroughbred race horse and that didn't seem to change anything.  He summarised by stating that if I continued to have a problem he'd replace the filling.

I left the surgery a thousand pesos lighter and thinking that I'd rather have Dr. Szell change my filling than give this guy a second chance.

Dinagyang Festival

I thought the festival was in the afternoon and so in having a lazy morning I missed most of it.  To be be honest I had limited interest so didn't properly research the event's start time, and was somewhat undecided whether to actually make the effort to go or not.

In the end I went but not until around 1:30pm, by which time all the singing and dancing had ended and most of the performers dressed as tribal warriors were on their way home or milling about in the street market posing for photographs.  Every other stall seemed to be a temporary or henna tattoo shop and the number of tattooed people, including tiny kiddies, was unbelievable.

Finished for the Day

Walking around I saw a pedestrian footbridge over the parade route that I thought would make a good vantage point for taking some photos but was curious as to why no one else had thought of using it as it was deserted.  I soon found out.  I climbed the steps and turned the corner onto the bridge thinking primarily about what I was going to photograph, when there was that unmistakable sensation of treading in something extremely unpleasant.  I looked down and the whole of the bridge deck was covered in mole hills of poo  - it looked as though it been used as improvised public toilet for the past year. Everyone knows how disgusting it is standing in dog's poo but it's difficult to describe the feeling of repugnance having stood in human excrement.  Of course, going up the stairs the smell should have giving me a clue to what lie ahead but then there so many unpleasant and similar smells about that you kind of become immune to it.  However, having stood on one "landmine" the stench released was gagging and so holding my breath I had to delicately tip-toe off the bridge to avoid standing on another.

I came down off the bridge and looked for some grass to wipe my shoe on.  I persevered with the event and wandered around the street vendors but couldn't really relax and enjoy myself as I was always watching out for who was behind me and/or who might be following me with a view to pinching my camera.  Of the vendors, those who weren't offering their services as tattooists were mostly selling barbecued chicken, pork or fish and not much else.  Or a few were selling souvenir tribal masks and trinkets.

Watching From A Safe Distance

On several junctions there were walls of massive speakers stacked up several yards high and set up facing each other on three sides.  Once they started up the noise (you couldn't call it music) was astounding and easily the loudest thing I have ever heard (no exaggeration).  When walking between one set I had my fingers in my ears and it was still incredibly loud, hideously painful and felt like it was turning my innards to mush and shaking my fillings out.  The odd thing about this was there were groups of young men stood rooted to the spot in front of the speakers, not moving, not dancing, not doing anything, just gawping at the speakers with empty expressions.  Without a shadow of a doubt their hearing would have been damaged.  Hang on a minute, I'm having a eureka moment . . . . perhaps that would explain why half of our employees don't do what you ask them: perhaps they're stone deaf and can't actually hear what you're saying to them.

Mugged and then Financially Gang Raped.

The fall out from the cancelled Silk Air fiasco has led to a chain reaction and has had further repercussions.  It was like vampires leaving the belfry upon sniffing blood.

I tried to cancel the connecting flight from Cebu to Iloilo with Cebu Pacific. Allowed but no refund.  I tried to reschedule it.  Not permitted.  So basically I've had to write off the cost of that as well.

Then there was the planned trip to Taiwan next week.  I called China Airlines, and if I asked once I asked a dozen times (sometimes v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y to make sure I was being understood) that if I cancelled my girlfriend's ticket I could claim a refund.  Every time I asked I was told I could.  Really, I couldn't have been more emphatic.  So I cancelled.  I was told I could claim the refund via the web site.  I logged on and went to the refund section and guess what?  No refund available.  By now I was losing the will to live.  And it was too late, I'd cancelled the ticket.

Next I called Philippine Airlines to cancel the ticket from Iloilo to Manila (to fly to Taiwan).  Cannot reschedule. Not permitted

Really, it seems to me that the airlines have resorted to some very sharp practices that Del Trotter would be proud of in order to boost their profits.

All in all I'm down by score short of £400.  And the worst thing about all this is when you try to pursue your grievance to try and resolve it you just come up against a stonewall of "company policy" or "there's no one here to deal with your enquiry right now".

It's odd though how quickly there's someone around when it's time to take your money.

Properly Mugged in Singapore

Over the 9 months that I've been working in the Philippines my girlfriend has travelled back and forth from Singapore on several visits. Without exception, and including the many trips I've made, we've used Silk Air (a subsidiary of the national carrier, Singapore Airlines).  This is for two reasons - good value and more importantly, good service.  We could've flown cheaper with other airlines but why forsake legroom and efficiency for a few dollars I say.

That is up until today.

Silk Air has a policy whereby if you make a booking for a person other than yourself (i.e. a third party booking) you must go through a verification process and produce a Letter of Indemnity and copies of your credit card.  Up until now, and being extremely remote from any Silk Air offices, I have faxed the form and card details through to their Singapore office and everything has gone as smooth as silk (as the airline's name implies).

Last Monday I went through the same procedure but as we don't have a fax set up in our newly established project office in Iloilo, and not wanting to handover the entire details of my credit card to some dodgy fax bureau for sending, I e-mailed copies to our Singapore office for them to fax it through to Silk Air.  Included on the form are contact details including mobile phone, e-mail address and of course the sender's fax No.  So if there was something wrong or adrift it would be reasonable to expect Silk Air to get in contact.  But this is the airline industry and reasonable is word that no longer exists.

I'd also sent them a message via their webpage e-mail, ticking the box requesting an response,  explaining the potential security risks associated in having to send my complete credit card details by fax as I had just done.  But I never received a response.

On the day of the flight, as she has done so many times in the past, my girlfriend travelled to Singapore's Changi Airport from Malaysia, also carrying a copy of the credit card verification documentation.  At the time she should've have been checking in I received an "Call me - URGENT" text message.

I called her and she was in a bit of a fluster.

"They won't let me fly", she said.

"Why not?"

"Because your credit card details haven't been verified."

"It's okay", I said, "it's just a misunderstanding"

I told her to go to the ticketing office where I would call back and speak to the Silk Air staff to clear up this.  I called her back and was put onto the girl in the ticketing office.  

"What's the problem", I asked.

"Your credit card needs to be verified".

"But I've already done it - it was faxed last Monday".

"We have no record of it", she said.

"But it was sent.  We have a transmission report", I protested.

"Which office did you send it to?"

"Errr, the one I always send it to".

"But without verification we can't allow your girlfriend to fly".

"Well, how can we resolve this because the verification was sent.  There wasn't a rejection notice so it must be in your office somewhere and my girlfriend has a copy with her".

"We can't accept her copy.  If you can come to the airport and produce your card that will be acceptable".

"I'm in rural Philippines.  I'd have to get a flight to visit any Silk Air offices.  If it was that simple I wouldn't have made a third party booking", I replied, getting slight agitated.

"Okay sir, we can rebook the flight for tomorrow".

"How does that help?  Oh I see, on a Saturday you don't need a verification", I said with a hint of sarcasm.

"No sir, you will still need to do the verification.  Your girlfriend can buy another ticket".

"Why does she need to buy another ticket - she already has one.  And oddly enough, she isn't carrying enough cash to buy another ticket as that wasn't really on her agenda on arrival at the airport as I've already bought her a ticket".

"Does she have a credit card"

"If she had a credit card she probably would've done the booking herself."

"Then I'm afraid she won't be able to fly - it's company policy."

"Okay then, is there anyone else I can speak to who can resolve this."

"We can refer it to the duty manager."

"Okay then, let me speak to the duty manager - ask him to call me back at on this number." (I was running out of credit.)

"He's not here.  He doesn't start work until 9:00am."  (the flight was for 9:05am)

"Well that's not very helpful is it?" By now I was becoming a little irritated and the phone was passed back to my girlfriend.

"Put them back on, please", I said.

"They're refusing to speak to you or me any more", said my girlfriend through her tears.

"What do you mean, they're refusing".

"They won't speak to you or me and have told me to go back to the check-in desk and ask them to sort it out."

"Okay, I'll call you back when you get to the check-in desk".

In the meantime I phoned my boss and asked him to double check that the verification form had been sent.  He confirmed that it had, without any problem.  It's a system that the office uses to book tickets with Silk Air so they were aware of what was required.

I phoned my girlfriend back but by now she was in tearful despair and told me the check-in staff wouldn't let her fly and were also refusing to talk to me or her.

There was no other option.  She would have to jump back into a taxi and go back to Malaysia.

I phoned our office in Singapore and asked the girl who does all the travel arrangements to find out from Silk Air what when wrong.

When she e-mailed me back I couldn't believe what I was reading: Silk Air had changed its policy and would no longer accept faxed verification of credit card details.

I hadn't seen that.  I went back to their web site and checked.  Admittedly, there was nothing to say they would accept faxed verification, but more importantly there was nothing in the text to say there had been a policy change and they would no longer accept faxed verification.  So how are you to know?  And more to the point, when I faxed through my verification did it not occur to someone in the Silk Air office to get in contact and say sorry, but we don't accept faxed verification any more.  So what's the point in adding all your contact details?  Or did someone just pick it up and say, "Ho, ho, ho, look at this mug" and then just toss it in the bin?

The upshot was I had to cancel the flight and to really stick it to me they deducted S$150 as a cancellation fee and then to twist it and break it off they also charged me S$150 for a "No-Show".  And when I queried this I was given that get-out-of-jail, all encompassing, slippery shoulder excuse: It's company policy.

I've always been a big fan of the famed Singapore efficiency and organisation but to coin a phrase of a former boss, this is rather like finding a turd in your salad.

Nearly Mugged in Iloilo

As I normally do, last Saturday I walked back to the house from the office, taking lunch in a coffee shop a short distance away.  After leaving the coffee shop my route takes me through Jaro Plaza, which was laid out by the Spanish during their colonial era and was the centre for what was then the affluent city of Jaro (now absorbed into the conurbation of Iloilo City).  The former wealth of Jaro can been seen from the large and impressive old houses, now mostly in a state of disrepair, that line the plaza perimeter.  In the plaza's centre there is a small park, which at present is occupied by a market and fun-fair.   There is also a free standing church belfry tower (see left) that was apparently ruined during an earthquake in 1948 but which was later restored.  It's hard to tell the difference really as it could do with a bit more restoring as there are bits falling of it and a fair number of weeds sprouting from its masonry.

Jaro Bell Tower

On this particular day the plaza was buzzing with activity and preparations for a festival.  I'd read about an upcoming festival for Iloilo for the 22nd January but this one had taken me by surprise as I hadn't heard or read anything about it.  Of course, it wouldn't have occurred to any of my local staff to inform of this event as that would've involved some considered thinking.

When I arrived in the plaza at around 2:00pm the event hadn't started but was under preparation, despite the distinct threat of rain and the occasional very light shower.  The whole affair seemed to centre around a street parade of majorettes, local groups like the scouts and other organisations, marching bands, the police and military.  One thing that was in abundance was carnival floats carrying what I presume to be beauty queens  (and a few kings) featuring mostly small children.  This was something I didn't quite understand and seemed quite odd to me.

Kids All Made Up for the Parade

There was a lively and friendly atmosphere and I spent most of the time taking photos and smiling and waving back at the locals.

A Friendly Atmosphere

The parade kicked off at around 3:30pm and crowds lined the streets to wave and cheer them on.  At this point as I was standing at the back of the crowd taking photos over the heads of those in front of me, I noticed a guy stood behind me and somewhat closer than what I was comfortable with.  Bearing in mind I was already at the back of the crowd and a good deal taller than most, it seemed odd that he would want to stand behind me where he couldn't see what was going on.  When a moved a few feet to my left, he followed.  Suspicious of his intentions I moved away to another point in the plaza just to be cautious.  Not wanting to be paranoid I tried to put to the back of my mind the prospect that he was some scallywag up to no good.  In situations like this I'm always aware of the potential risk of pickpocketing and theft and take precautions to place valuables in hard to reach places.  At the time I was wearing a camera backpack with a spare camera in it but figured it was safe enough zippered up in the top compartment, and my wallet was in a buttoned up side pocket of my combat trousers rather than the more accessible back pocket.

I moved to another location opposite the bell tower and was happily taking snaps and waving at those taking part in the carnival, who as always were excitedly happy that someone was taking their photograph.  Sudden I felt a tugging at my backpack.  I spun round and there were two scowling, glowering youths behind me (different to the one earlier) with guilt, although not a hint of shame at nearly being caught red-handed, written all over their faces.    Immediately securing the camera I was using at the time from being snatched by wrapping the strap around my wrist several times, I then whipped my backpack off to check it.  They had succeeded in half unzipping the compartment containing my reserve camera and had it not been through a combination of their impatience and a somewhat sticky zip, I would have lost it.  I also consider myself lucky as I've heard of backpacks being sliced open with razors rather than messing about with the pesky zip.  No doubt the razor comes in handy for those victims who may attempt to resist any persuasion to share the contents of their backpack with other members of the sticky-fingered community.

What irks me about this incident is the fact that whilst I was at the back of the crowd lining the parade route there were people milling all around so someone must have seen what was going on but clearly decided not to intervene or assist.   This made me feel like that there was a conspiracy in that because I was a westerner I was fair game and I could afford to have my own personal possession pilfered, and that stealing from me didn't matter.

Likely Suspect But All They Wanted Was Their Photo Taken

I've experienced a similar mindset before when working in Ghana, West Africa.  I'd seen a man beaten unconscious by a mob and then tossed into river that was in flood, so that if he wasn't already dead when he hit the water, he was most definitely going to drown.  And this was for the crime of stealing a pot from what was basically a mud hut.  Whilst it may seem uncivilised and a harsh punishment for stealing a pot, I can understand that in a society where houses have no doors or windows it is essential that theft is positively discouraged and punished in order to maintain a civilised society, otherwise anarchy would very soon follow.  However, whilst stealing a pot from a mud hut wasn't in anyway tolerated, theft on a wholesale scale from a western company, such as the one I worked for, was deemed acceptable, if not expect and was practised by just about everyone we employed.  Again, whilst everyone of our workers knew it was going on, not one person wanted to be a whistle-blower or make a stand against it.  Even our house was burgled and whilst most of my clothes were stolen they had the decency to leave me a clean shirt and underwear for the next day but wiped out the any company owned property - an inside job if ever there was one.

There's Never A Policeman Around When You Need One

In Jaro I was left wondering whether they were just taking pot luck that I'd have something in my backpack worth stealing but my instincts told me that this wasn't the case.  Earlier I'd taken the camera out to use and put it back so I figured that I was being cased and identified as a target, which gave me a horrible feeling that I was being watched all the time. Then there was the possibility that they would come back for a second, and possibly more aggressive attempt.

After securing my backpack I moved away to another area but could not longer relax and felt as though I couldn't stand still.  As a result couldn't enjoy myself.  Or concentrate on taking photographs.  I couldn't concentrate on the days events but rather had to concentrate wholly on who was behind me and who was watching me.  I may have been lucky in that the attempt to rob me was a passive one.  The thought that a more determined attempt might involve physical violence, and bearing in mind that guns are prevalent here, I made the decision to give up and go back to the house and sit and listen to the barking dogs.

Final score:  Free and fun tourism in the Philippines - 0     Low life scum - 1

Next weekend there's huge event in Iloilo City called the Dinagyang Festival and I can't decide whether to:

1. Go and potentially get robbed and possibly murdered in the process;
   
2. Go but place a highly venomous snake in my backpack.
3. Stay at home and listen to the barking symphony.
4. Go somewhere nice for the weekend - i.e. Singapore.
   

Jungle Trekking to the Bat Cave

Trawling through the internet trying to find something worthwhile doing I barely noticed a link to a place called Bulabog National Park.  The instructions on how to get there said that it could be reached by hiring a tricycle from the city bus terminal, which led me to believe that it was located somewhere very close to the city centre as it would be impractical to go far on a tricycle, even if they meant the motorised ones and not the peddle type.  Hence, I thought that anything that close to the city couldn't be that good and so just overlooked it and passed the information to my driver for further investigation.

So when the weekend and the Sunday of the 10th Jan came around I asked my driver if he had any suggestions for something to do and he mentioned the Bulabog National Park.  As I had nothing else in mind and no suggestions of my own it was Hobson's Choice.

We headed off early on Sunday morning (it was early for a Sunday) at the suggestion of my driver and I didn't object as I knew I would be woken early by the dog chorus at sunrise and unable to sleep in.

I had so convinced myself that this was going to be a non-event that I didn't even think about charging the battery for my camera and I didn't take any food or water as I thought it was going to be a 5 minute wonder.  I even loaded my bike into the car as I was considering cycling back from the park to the house and doing a bit of sightseeing around the city.

Dingle

The drive to the park was actually around 30 miles and located near to a town called Dingle (pronounced Ding-lee) to the north of Iloilo, and the entrance to the park was located a short drive off the main road in the foot hills to the mountains.  On arrival I was greeted by a rather jolly local guy and as soon as I spoke he immediately asked me (in manner that was more of a statement than a question) if I was English.  When I confirmed that I was he straight away said in his best mockney Del Trotter accent "lubbly jubbly" and some other phrase, which despite me asking him to repeat several times I couldn't quite work out what he was actually trying to say.  He told me that he had worked the cruise ships around the Mediterranean as a steward and so had met many English tourists where he'd picked up his highly fluent slang.  Initially, I thought that he was the guide but it turned out he was resident of Dingle and was also there to visit the park with his nephews and niece.

Dingle Church

Entrance to the park was Php80 (£1.07) for me being a foreigner and Php8 (11p) for the locals.  A guide, which was compulsory, was a further Php180 (£2.42).  I did notice that I seemed to be the only one paying despite the Php8 fee each for Del Trotter and his family.  And they all congregated together and made use of my guide too!

As we set off we were accompanied by a motley mix of mongrel dogs, including one belonging to Del, that were hanging around listlessly at the park lodge when we arrived.  As soon as we started walking they seemed to come alive and were sniffing and scratching at the bush and running through the undergrowth.  I noticed one of the smaller dogs was walking rather oddly, with its front legs working just fine but its back legs were all over the place as if it was drunk, which was highly comical especially as it tried to make its way over the rough ground covered in snare like vines.  Del Trotter told me that the dog had never been the same ever since it had been run over by a motorbike.  However, I admired this plucky little pooch as it stayed with us the whole time despite the difficulties it was having in making its way over the difficult terrain.

The walk to the caves, which seemed to be the principle attraction, started off into the hills along the route of an old mining trail that looked as though it may have been a road at some stage, but which was now rugged and rough going due to erosion exposing the underlying craggy limestone.  I quickly realised that not charging the battery on my camera was a big mistake as we passed soaring forest trees with their massive buttress roots, wild coffee bushes, huge black millipedes, dangerous looking spiders hanging patiently in broad webs between bushes and the dappled light of the sun trying to pierce the forest canopy.

Spider

Forest Walk

After around 30 minutes of walking we arrived at the first cave.  The tour guide had brought the most pathetic pink toy torch that looked as though he'd pinched it from his baby sister to guide 7 of us around the caves.  The light seemed to fall out of the lamp rather than beam out with any sort of respectable brightness, so we ended up using the lights on our mobile phones to provide just about enough illumination to see where we were going. There were stalactites and stalagmites in shimmering and sparkling limestone, although those within reach had been worn smooth by the constant touch of hands.  We were in and out of the first cave relatively quickly and then went to another cave with more of the same stuff but outside of which there were three large crosses that were used for religious festivals.

Limestone Formation

The next cave we went to required a bit more climbing to get to as it was high up on a hillside, and on couple of occasions I had to give the mutt with the drunken legs a helping hand as it desperately tried to scrabble up the hillside using principally its front legs.  As we scaled the hill and came within 100 yards of the cave there was the most awful pungent smell, which I recognised as bat's droppings from a previous visit to a cave in Borneo.  At the entrance to the cave there were rocks with an incredible luminous green lichen on them.  Climbing deep into the cave and slipping and sliding on bat guano there was swirling mass of bats flying over and around our heads and flying so close you could feel the flutter of air from their wings.

Luminous Lichen

From this cave we set off again into the forest following a much narrower trail.  Parts of the route were swarming with ants so you couldn't stand still for a moment otherwise your legs and feet would be quickly covered in the blighters.  Interestingly enough, I was the only one who was wearing anything close to footwear that resembled walking boots whilst the others were all wearing flip-flops, but I was the only one who slipped over, smacking my Olympus 35 SP camera on a rock as I went down.  I wasn't bothered about the grazes on my leg and back, just the possible damage to my camera, but as it was made around 40 years ago it's solidly built (rather like its owner!) and seems to have suffered only a small dent in the base and back and has no serious lasting damage needing costly repairs.

What Does This Stalactite Look Like?

As we walked through the jungle we collected wild fruits, including one I'd never seen or tried before that the locals call Chico.  It's about the same size as a lychee but with a smooth brown skin it has a soft pulpy centre that tasted deliciously like honey.  Del Trotter grabbed a spiny jack fruit and as well as the Chico we found pomelo growing wild in abundance.

Chico Fruit

We then came to the final cave that was shaped like an arch and walked a fair way into it.  I was interested in seeing how far it went but we'd left a few stragglers behind and so we had to follow the guide with his pathetic toy torch back to the entrance to regroup.  The only dog that came into the cave was Del's and as we were walking back towards the entrance it was left behind in the darkness and started yelping and whining in an alarming manner as if it was being attacked by some sort of cave monster, which in the near darkness was pretty spooky.  At this point Del told us all to carry on and he'd go back for his dog using the even more pathetic light from his mobile phone.  This struck as being exactly like one of those horror films where the audience is thinking and willing the guy not to go back on his own.  But we just let him and whilst I was expecting him to reappear, staggering and covered in blood, holding his dog's head and telling us all to run for our lives, I'm pleased to say he wasn't hacked to bits by some crazy axe murderer in a hockey mask.

After regrouping at the entrance the guide told us that the cave was actually a through route and so we all headed back into the darkness, myself quietly confident that there was safety in numbers.

By 3:00pm we were back at the lodge at the park entrance and we sat down, soaked with sweat, dirty from bat's poo and with scratches and grazes from the sharp rock and thorns to feast on the fruits we had collected and to drink chilled mountain water. And once everyone had had their fill of fruit the Filipinos did what they do best - they fired up the karaoke machine and had a sing-song.

Jack Fruit

At which point we made our getaway and concluded what had been an extremely enjoyable day.

Settling In & Adapting

When I worked and commuted into London, the train to Victoria passed over a viaduct that looked down on Battersea Dogs Home.  As I gawped out of the grafitti scarred train window I often wondered what the local residents thought of living next door to all that constant barking and howling.

Well now I know.

The house that I've rented is located in what is evidently a wealthy district, or sub-division as it is known here. Now, it's either because you're wealthy you like to own a dog but I suspect that being wealthy means having to own a dog to protect your property from burglars and thieves.  As a consequence every single property surrounding the one where I'm staying has a dog.  Or two.  Or three.  Sometimes four.  And at any one time at least one, if not two or three of these dogs are barking.  Not consistently but very, very frequently, including throughout the night.  It like a chain reaction.  Once one starts they all start as it gets passed around the neighbourhood.

The worst time is from sunrise at around 5:30am up until when I leave the house for work.  Instead of the pleasing birdsong of the dawn chorus I have to suffer a cacophony of barking dogs.  I'm only two weeks into this project and living here is already driving me crazy.

What I can't understand is I'm the only one who seems to be able to hear it.  The locals and the staff at the house were bemused when I asked them if they were bothered by all the barking dogs. "What barking?", they said.

Ah well, only 6 months left to go.

Tropical Christmas

I haven't had a Christmas in the UK since 2004 and it's not something I miss particularly.  I think that in the tropics you can never properly feel Christmassy but then equally I think that Christmas in the UK isn't what it used to be and is completely lost in commercialism and hype.

This year I decided to go back to Singapore/Malaysia to meet up with my girlfriend so on Christmas Eve I flew from Iloilo to Singapore via Manila.   I think that Singapore does Christmas very well.  There are plenty of decorations and events organised.  Orchard Road has probably the best decorations and lights I've seen anywhere and all the stores are trying to out-do each other with their displays.  Yes, it's principally a celebration of commercialism and all the shops are open every day of the holiday, but then to Singapore it is just a holiday and not a religious festival.  That is preserved for Chinese New Year, during which Singapore becomes a ghost town.

Orchard Road Christmas Decorations

In the evening on Christmas eve we went for a drink on Emerald Hill  and left at around 11:30pm and literally had to fight our way through the shopping throngs on Orchard Road to get back to the hotel.

Orchard Road Lights

Christmas Day was fairly muted affair and we went and did some Christmas shopping.  I would abhor the idea of shopping on Christmas day in the UK but here it didn't seem to matter.  In the evening we had a buffet dinner and champagne at the Grand Copthorne Hotel, which as always was superb.  And as always I ate too much.

Boxing Day we went over to JB in Malaysia and then I returned back to the Philippines during he early hours of the 29th.

I'm also not a big lover of New Year's Eve either.  Too much false frivolity.  Too many people trying too hard to have a good time and too many people trying to out-do each other to be seen having a good time.  And that's not to mention the rip off bar prices, taxi fares and inflated restaurant rates.  So I planned to have a quiet night in at my new lodgings in Iloilo.  However, that wasn't going to happen because of the fireworks.  I suppose I knew this was coming because I'd never seen so many fireworks on display for sale in the local markets.  The whizzes, bangs and whooshes started early enough at around 4:00pm on New Years Eve then reached a crescendo at midnight (of course) and continued on until daylight.   I wasn't going to get any sleep without my earplugs.

More Bloody Fireworks

New Year's Day I took a drive into the mountains to take in some of the sights.  There were some interesting rice terraces forming hard copies of map contour lines but as this is the dry season the colours were the muted tones of ploughed soil and cut straw and not the vibrant green of the rice crop itself.  However, it was all pleasant enough and it will be worthwhile revisiting during the wet season.

Colourful Rice Terraces

On the weekend, struggling to find something to do and coming up against a dead end of touristy suggestion from the internet, I took a drive out to San Jose in the district of Antique (pronounced An-tee-kay) on the west coast.  There was nothing remarkable about this small town.

Deserted Beach

I had a walk along an endless and deserted beach looking for photo opportunities and had a moment of mild panic when a guy stepped out from a fenced area and started firing an AK47 rifle at the beach.  If you've ever been in close range of one of these being fired you'll know that it's a noise that instils a particular kind fear.  In an involuntary action I stopped dead in my tracks and the thought of what to do next raced through my mind as I tried to assess the potential risks of what might be happening.  I could see some other locals around who didn't seem to be fazed by what was happening so I kept walking.  As I drew nearer I could see there were a half a dozen or so boys and men and they were shooting at a makeshift target.  When they saw me I jokingly put my hands in the air in an act of surrender and gave them a big smile.  They smiled and waved back and indicated that I should pass which I did without incident, although not without some anxiety.

View Across the Bay

Further along the beach I was then spotted by a group of 8 kids who virtually mugged me to make me take their photograph.  The children here seem more than happy to have their photo taken and each and everyone of them is a proper poser and completely devoid of being camera shy.  I find this somewhat curious as to why they would want their photograph taken when they'll never see the results?

Kids

On the way back to Iloilo I stopped at an interesting and heavily constructed church at a place called Miagao  Reading a plaque on the wall, construction of the church was completed in 1797 but it was then destroyed during the revolution in 1898.  It was rebuilt and then badly damaged by fire in 1910.  It was then badly damaged again in 1948 by an earthquake and then rebuilt some years later in 1962.  Now there's persistence for you.  It's now undergoing some restoration work so lets hope it last without further unfortunate incident.  It was closed when I arrived but I'll be keen to return to see what it looks like inside as looking though the bars on one window there was a vaulted ceiling in the annex so I imagine the rest of the main structure to be impressive.

Miagao Church

Under Renovation

Last Days in Toledo (Part II)

I ended up staying in Toledo for yet another weekend.  This was primarily due to a request from the staff to stay and attend the Christmas party they had arranged.  I didn't really want the party as the team is now split between the two projects and I didn't think it was fair to have a party for some and not the others. Nevertheless, the office staff went ahead and organised one anyway so I didn't really want to be a complete grinch and put a stop to it.

The Christmas party was similar in many ways to the topping out party we had except that there was far more disco than karaoke, which for me was good news.  Likewise, the venue bordered the beach but was in the open and fortunately we were blessed with good weather, otherwise it would have been a washout.  There were party games with very modest cash prizes, a raffle and gifts for everyone.  And of course, lots of beer and food including the obligatory roasted pig.

Compared to the topping out event held in the early days of the project to it was interesting to observe how the team had changed from a somewhat fragmented crew, working in their own little groups and circles, to a close knit group of colleagues and friend spanning several different nationalities, including Filipino, Thai, Malaysian, Singaporean, Irish and of course English.

My transfer to Iloilo eventually happened on the 22nd December so there was only really enough time to unpack my bags before I headed off to Singapore for Christmas.

Filling the car up with my gear it never ceases to amaze me how much stuff I'd accumulated in 6 months.  Demobilising always means having to either give or throw away a fair proportion of it as there isn't any point in traipsing it around the world to other locations.

On the day of the transfer to Iloilo I sent my driver off with the car on the first ferry to Negros at 7:30pm, with me planning to catch the fast-craft at 9:00am as they then both arrive at more or less the same time.  However, disappointingly, although not entirely a surprise, the 9:00am was cancelled so I had to wait for the 10:30am, which had been postponed until 11:00am.  I suppose I should count myself lucky as the week before I we sent a vehicle over and there were no ferries all morning.  The excuse given was that the ferry company was having its Christmas party but who has their Christmas party in the morning?  Of course, there was no advanced warning of this so the quayside was chaos but Filippinos seem to just take all this in their stride and don't get fazed by it.

Bird Life

For me, the biggest problem with the delays was that I was looking forward to a leisurely drive across the scenic mountains of Negros, but being pressed for time we would have to little opportunity to stop to take in the sights and snap some photos.  If you ever find yourself in this part of the world I would thoroughly recommend taking the drive either across Cebu or Negros or both.

Resting During the Crossing

On landing in San Carlos we headed straight for the mountains but made time to stop for lunch at a cafe/bar that had a rather splendid view and some remarkably good coffee. 

We eventually arrived at the house in Iloilo at around 9:30pm and I was relieved to find that it was a genuine rental and not a scam.