Chimney Woes & Wonders

We've just completed the slipform construction of the chimney in Iloilo.  Again, this is almost certainly the tallest structure on the whole of the island of Panay.

Under Construction

We managed to get off to a bad start.  The supplier for the concrete started coming up with a variety of excuses why they couldn't supply concrete.  Firstly it was because the cement hadn't arrived.  Then when the cement did arrive it was due to some paperwork issue.  Then they told us that they were restricted from operating for 24 hours, which for us is an absolute requirement for slipform work.  We were scuppered.  All dressed up and nowhere to go, so to speak.  Apparently (and there are many variations to this story) the local barangay captain (UK equivalent: barangay = ward/estate/district and captain = councillor) had decided that the noise from the batching plant would be too disruptive to the local community.  I'm not sure if he meant they wouldn't be able to hear their all-night karaoke and barking dogs over the noise of the batching plant-kind-of-disruptive.  Besides, the batching plant is located on the periphery of the district in a field some distance from the houses (and I use the term "houses" very loosely here) and our requirement is for 24 hour occasional supply, not 24 hour continuous supply.

In the event we were stood for 3 weeks trying to resolve this.  That's literally 3 weeks having to pay the entire workforce to do nothing.  But in the Philippines this doesn't matter because as a western company we have sack loads of money with bank notes spilling out of the tops laying around all over the place with nothing to spend them on.

What I failed to put across and get them to understand is that without a 24 hour supply we couldn't build the chimney.  Without a chimney there would be no power station.  Without a power station the local community would continue to have an intermittent power supply and some of the costliest electricity around.  Surely, 4 weeks of a bit of noise is a small price to pay for cheap(er) and a reliable electricity supply and a small sacrifice for the benefit of the whole city and island?  Besides, I'm having to go for 26 weeks without any proper sleep because of a multitude of barking dogs but no one cares about that.  This barangay captain, obviously a traffic warden in a past life, nearly managed to achieve what Greenpeace had failed to do and that was to prevent the power station from ever being built.  You can draw your own conclusions as to the reasons for the restriction, something I'm probably better off not openly speculating about here.

In the end we took a gamble and used an alternative batching plant on the other side of town.  It was a gamble because they were an unknown quantity and because they were on the other side of a city that had bad traffic problems at peak times, and the city had restrictions on truck movements during the day.  There were a number of other problems we had to resolve too.  To begin with they didn't have any money to buy cement (what kind of a business is that?) so we had to give them an advance payment.  Then the advance payment wasn't enough and we had to give them a further advance payment, all of which was extremely risky as if they had suddenly decided not to supply concrete to us after we had advanced them considerable sums of money we would have no doubt had a serious problem in recovering it.  

However, in the end they turned out to be wholly reliable and we completed the chimney in record time (97m in 19 days).  

Completed Windshield

In Days of Old . . .

When I first started working overseas there wasn't of course any computers and hence there wasn't any e-mail.  The only way to stay in touch was by writing letters as telephone calls were an expensive luxury reserved for special occasions such as Christmas.

On my first assignment overseas I went from someone who struggled to write even a Christmas thank you note to, I think it's fair to say, a prolific letter writer.  When you think about it, recipients of my missives generally only had to reply to me, whereas I would have a list of at least a dozen regular correspondents to maintain contact with, plus several more intermittent contacts.  Colleagues would often comment that they didn't know what I could find to write about but I like to think there's always a tale or a story in even the most mundane and routine daily events.  

In fact I miss writing letters: the paper; the ink; the envelopes and the postage.  Letters convey a certain personal touch that an e-mail cannot ever express.  Handwriting, with its errors and corrections, and in some cases its borderline legibility, transmits a certain personal care and effort that a series of electronic pixels (printed or not) cannot communicate, despite what computer font you might choose to use.  In a way it can be likened to the differences between film and digital photography.  Photographic film is the paper and ink and due to the cost and time element, care must be taken in composing the photograph, much in the same way time is taken in composing a letter, taking care to minimise the errors.  Taking the film to be developed is the equivalent of postage.  Waiting for the prints is the anticipation of a reply, and the prints are the the written response.  Digital photography gives the same instant gratification as e-mail but as I said, it still has its benefits.

The delight at receiving a letter through the post, dropping though the letter box onto the hall mat is, I'm sure, missed by many.  When working overseas there was always the heightened anticipation and excitement of the post arriving, and in certain cases the crushing disappointment when nothing arrived.  The post really was what most people lived for and those that didn't were more likely to go off the rails or go "bush".

Then along came (after some considerable time) the advent of computers and the internet and communications changed dramatically, largely replacing letter writing but with each process having equal merits and drawback.

When letter writing I found it quite difficult to write to several different people when telling the same news and repeat stories and maintaining an enthusiasm for writing.  As I see it, this is where the blog comes into it's own.  Like an open diary, I can write what I need to and only do it once.  Admittedly, it's not as intimate as an individually written letter or even a personally composed e-mail, but you have to make the most of what technology brings.  Besides, even if I did write a hand written letter, there aren't very many people in this day and age who would take the time and effort to write one back (for example, try buying a letter writing paper these days - and I don't mean A4 copy paper but proper letter writing paper - it's almost impossible).

Generally, I don't push this blog out to all and sundry but only to those who know me reasonable well.  Then there are the occasional cases where people get in touch and ask me what I'm up to these days and the perfect response is to direct them to this blog, and then they can read in quite some detail what's going on.

There are those who are genuinely interested, and I thank those people for their interest and support.  Then there are those that I call the Provincial Pub Man.  These people are those who say to you, when you appear after a spell overseas, "So, what's it like out there then".  Before I'd make the mistake of trying to explain but I quickly learnt that Provincial Pub Man isn't interested.  So I now resort to a simple "It's all right", and that's all they really want to hear.  In a similar vein there are those who ask the same question and I've directed them to this blog, but then they don't bother to take a look so like Provincial Pub Man I can only assume that they're not really interested.  That's fine and reading this blog isn't obligatory, but then I'd have to say to them please don't ask me again what I'm doing these days because if you can't be bothered to have a read and find out, then I really can't be bothered to explain when you ask again.

But recently I encountered on-line a different type of person, someone who I thought was a mate of mine and who asked me what I was doing these days, and so I referred him to this blog.  Within seconds he came back with the question "What's that crap?"  Quite how within a few seconds he had decided that nearly 10 months of what I'd written was crap is a mystery - he must be some some sort of gifted speed-reader.  I told him that he didn't have to read it if he didn't want to but pointed out that he had asked me what I was up to, and if he cared to read it what I'd written it would tell him.  Again he responded that he wasn't going to read it if it was crap: but it seemed he had already made his mind up.

Following this encounter I wondered if what I had written was indeed "crap".  Well, so what if it is?  No one has to read it and besides, I've received several complimentary comments so it can't all be crap, can it?

Then it dawned on me: of course he was rude and abrupt because he was reverting to type - he's Australian and rude and abrupt is what Australians generally do best.  Added to which, I think I could have tolerated his critique more if he had been someone as worldly wise and interesting as say David Attenborough, but with a life as shallow as a puddle on a pool table I don't think I have very much to worry about.

Second Best Thing About This Job

Another factory visit to Kaohsiung in Taiwan was necessary.  If I'm absolutely honest, it wasn't really necessary but I wasn't about to torpedo any chance of me being paid to escape the Philippines for a long weekend to spend time in my favourite city.

I arrived In Kaohsiung on a Thursday lunchtime and was met at the airport by mate Dave and his wife, and was taken to the hotel where I was to be staying.

The hotel was the Splendor which is located in the 85 storey Tuntex Sky Tower, which up until the completion of the Taipei 101 building was tallest building in Taiwan for several years, topping out out 1,140 ft or 1240 ft if you include the antenna. The hotel reception is located on the 38th floor with the hotel rooms located between floors 46 - 70 and so whichever room you are given you are assured of a great view.

Tuntex Sky Tower

Thursday afternoon was spent walking around the city exploring camera shops.  Whilst we were walking around we passed a dental clinic and as I still had a sore tooth I went in to see if they'd be willing to take a look.  After a short and quick registration, and discovering it was a training school, I was in the dentist chair being looked at.  At first the young dentist seemed to think that the tooth might be cracked so decided to x-ray it again.  She then went off and discussed the x-ray with the guy who was in charge.  He asked me when I was leaving and if I was planning to come back to Taiwan some time soon.  I said I was leaving on Monday and although I was planning to come back I wasn't sure when that would be.  The young trainee dentist told me that the tooth needed a crown as there was so little of it left but to do that would take several repeat visits.  I remembered that the the cause of the problem stemmed from the tooth being damage and effectively sheared in half along its length, which occurred when I was kicked in the face in a disco in 1974, so I suppose it's done well to last up until now.

As a temporary measure she said that she would replace the filling although she said she wasn't sure how successful it would be as there was so little tooth left.  She proceeded to do this (watched over by a couple of students) without giving me any anaesthetic and despite my trepidation I was surprised, not to mentioned relieved, that she didn't cause me any pain whatsoever.  After drilling out the old filling, which there seemed to be masses of, I could feel with my tongue a huge cavity and barely any tooth.  This was then repaired and I now have a nice, new, shiny white filling replacing the ugly grey mercury filling that was there before, all at a cost of less than £25.  Moreover, the pain has now gone so I reckon it'll be good until I find myself with some time to spare in civilisation when I can have it fixed properly.  

The factory visit was straightforward and all very amicable and as before I was met my the factory owner (Andy, to give his English name) in his classic Mercedes.  I love that car so much I'm definitely going to get myself one when (or if) I end up back in the UK.  After an inspection of the fabrication work for the chimney liners we went to visit the Andy's contractor that was doing the painting for the liners.  This involved, as so often it does in Taiwan, drinking tea.  More accurately, I should say the ritual of drinking tea.  The process of heating the water, the cups, the pot.  The adding of dried green tea leaves that look like thick, green wood shavings that swell up to almost overwhelm the pot itself .  Throwing away the first brew and using it to soak the cups and tea holder.  Once the tea has been allowed to brew for just the right amount of time in a small clay pot, it is transferred to a holding pot and then distributed to guests in little clay cups.  The Taiwanese can drink gallons of this stuff and I must admit, it is very tasty and refreshing to drink but my bladder has limits.

Kaohsiung City (From The Hotel Window)

From the factory we went to visit the Andy's brother, who is a building developer and we stopped off at a block of apartments that he had just completed in Kaohsiung city.  His brother wasn't my stereo-typical image of a developer but was a tall, thin, elderly, polite and softly spoken gentleman.  We proceeded to have tea in one of the apartments with his brother and friends and snack on tasty fruits that had been grown in his friends gardens and admire Chinese character paintings that another friend did as a hobby.  I was asked to eat a small berry that resembled a rose hip in appearance, but was under very strict instructions not to eat the seed.  The berry had no real taste to speak of but then I was immediately given a tomato to eat.  The effects of the berry is to make everything else you eat taste sweet and sure enough, the tomato tasted really sweet.  Quite an odd sensation.  Whilst the conversation around the table was wholly in Chinese (Hokkien I think - it definitely wasn't Mandarin) I was impressed by the friendliness and welcoming attitude everyone showed me.  After several gallons of tea we left and I returned to my hotel.

Kaohsiung Harbour

The remainder of the weekend was spent wandering around the city, window shopping, looking at more cameras, eating well and generally taking it easy and as always, I was sorry to have to leave.