Diving Takes a Dive

I like diving.  Being out on the water removes you from so much of the hubbub of daily life here: there's no music, no barking dogs and no crowds.  Under the water is even more serene.  Just you and the fish and the gentle hiss of your breathing through the regulator and the bubbling of expelled breath.

However, in order to be out on the water and to be able to run a diving school involves a plethora of red tape and . . . well there's no other word for it: bullshit.

The guy who runs the company (let's call him Jacques) I dive with has wrapped up and closed down.  He just can't take any more nonsense and is moving back to Thailand where he came from (or Malaysia).  He originally came to Subic because he was fed up with Thai corruption and the language barrier.  Corruption here in the Philippines makes Thailand look like a model of probity and although everyone here speaks English, very few people seem to actually understand it.  Rather like a parrot that can speak, it doesn't actually understand what you're saying when you say 'Who's a pretty boy' nor understand what it's saying when it says 'Pieces of eight, pieces of eight'.

I can vouch for this.  'I didn't understand' is the catch all, get out of jail card excuse for all manner of problems.  Even when you repeat instructions/requests several times over and even get the instructions repeated back to you so that you know what you've said has been registered, it doesn't stop something happening completely opposite to what you expected to happen.

Here's a recent example.  I told the driver that he should check the pressure in the tyres before heading off on an errand (one of them had a very slow puncture but I didn't want to tell him this and confuse the situation. Keep it simple is the key).  I repeated it.  Three times, very slowly. Each time he said he understood. I got out of the car and pointed to the tyres.  I kicked one of them and said "air".  I asked the driver if he understood. He said that he did. I got back in the car. Just before we headed off he asked me if I was going with him? With him where? "To buy the tiles" he said, "...otherwise I won't know what tiles to buy or how many" (I'm not making this up).  Now, I can almost of understand that he confused "tyres" and "tiles" but how on earth did he think tiles were related to me getting out of the car and pointing to the round black rubbery things on all four corners of the vehicle and saying air?  As an old school teacher of mine used to say: "You ask for reinforcements because you're going to advance but they send three-and-fourpence because they think your going to a dance".

When Jacques bought his own boat because he couldn't find a dependable source for renting one, he thought all this troubles were over.  But they'd only just started.  To begin with, when the boat was delivered to the marina, the marina company dragged the boat up the slipway nearly wrecking and sinking it.  Then they charged him a fortune to repair it and rental whilst they were carrying out the repairs.  Then, once it was sea worthy and the diving was up and running the owner of the marina decided to impose, quite arbitrarily, a Php1,000 (£15) charge per person for each customer just to walk on the jetty to where Jacques' boat was moored.  Had Jacques passed this cost onto his customers it would have made him uncompetitive and drive him out of business so he was forced to find another mooring.

He obtained agreement from Subic Bay Municipal Authority to anchor the boat off the beach.  So they set about creating an anchorage and moved the boat.  However, the local bar owner didn't like them mooring the boat outside his bar. The bar owner told Jacques to move elsewhere and when Jacques politely pointed out that he had permission to moor there and it was a public beach he later had a visit from some 'heavies', who made it clear in a roundabout way that if he didn't relocate, either the boat or him or both would be found on the sea bed.  Hence, they had to move to another mooring further up the beach.

Then there was the local staff issues.  Failure to turn up, without excuse or reason or letting Jacques know in advance ('I didn't understand you were going to take 6 divers visiting from overseas out for a days diving, I thought you were telling me to stay in bed' was probably the excuse) and failing to look after the boat properly leading to it being beached by the tide several times, thereby forcing a cancellation of the days diving, and on numerous occasions getting the anchor rope tangled in the propeller, having similar impact.  This wasn't a case of lack of ability but moreover one of a willingness to apply oneself to the task in hand.  And finding replacement staff is rather like my ordeal in trying to find a driver.

Finally, following the accident and drowning of two divers (Diving Accident) a whole new raft of form filling, committees, meetings and bureaucracy was introduced, which simply meant more expense and more cash. For example, every time there was a dive trip organised permission had to be obtained from not one, not two but three different local government offices.  And you couldn't do this by fax, e-mail or a telephone call, you have to go there in person.  

Let me give you a taste of what visiting one of these offices is like.  I went to pay the local council tax for the house I'm renting.  I walk into the office and I'm the only customer in there.  There are five people behind the counter doing important stuff like reading the papers, watching the TV, combing their hair.  I walk up to the counter and ask no one in particular, as no one seems bothered to actually to acknowledge my existence, if I'm in the right office.  'Take a queue number' I'm told '...and we'll attend to you'.  'But I'm the only person in here' I replied looking around incredulously.  'We can't attend to you unless you take a queue number' I'm told.  So I do as I'm instructed and take a queue number.  Then wait.  And wait.  And wait in a queue of one.  I was very nearly at the point of walking out then one sullen looking lad nods at me.  Nothing more.  No cheerful good morning.  I go over to the window and push the bill over to him. Between chatting to his colleagues and gawping at a computer screen for a inordinate amount of time and moving like he's in a pool of molasses, I finally get to pay my bill.

The thought of having to do this at three different offices would drive me out of my head, never mind out of business.

So Jacques has wrapped up his business.  He's selling his house and moving on and yet another revenue generating entrepreneur leaves.

Welcome to the world of Atlas Shrugged.

Not On A Monday

On my way back from a meeting in Bantangas recently I made a small diversion around the Taal Volcano so I could visit the town of Taal, which apparently has a camera museum and gallery.

Just my luck, it's open every day, except Monday and guess what day I was there?  Next time maybe.

Taal has plenty of old Spanish architecture and a grand old church.  Here are some photos of the church.  Not great quality unfortunately as they were taken on my phone, but you'll get the idea.

Returning Dilemma

I get homesick.  I've never really acclimatised to the tropical weather, the food, the culture and I think I've only manage to stick it out because I spend most of my time in the relative comfort of an air conditioned office.  

To an extent I suffer from culture shock and the thought of long summer days, crisp frosty mornings and steak and kidney pie have me forming an escape committee of one.

But then I read the UK papers and I realise that what I'm hankering for is to return to an England as it was, not as it is now.  Here's today's offerings, all reported in the same day's issue:

• A man with a mental age of two in a hospital where he's supposed to be cared for is found to have been gnawed by a rat, and the staff apparently didn't realise until they saw him wandering around with said rat hanging off him with its teeth embedded in his shoulder.  They claim it was a field mouse.  A nice, cute, cuddly field mouse.  As if that makes it okay?  And since when have field mice been carnivorous?
• http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2107056/Jason-Ketley-I-gnawed-rat-hospital-bed.html#comments

• A pensioner dies after contracting pneumonia after she was left outside the care home (I use the word 'care' loosely) over night in November where she evidently wasn't being cared for at all.
• http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2107127/Missing-pensioner-died-spending-EIGHT-HOURS-freezing-cold-outside-care-home-overnight.html

• A disabled pensioner, forced to sleep in his living room to protect his property from burglars, ends up being strangled to death by a criminal who was let out on licence (what? Like 007?  Licensed to kill?).  The crook was given a life sentence of 22 years (minimum).  He's only 24 now so he'll be younger than me when he gets out and hence still a menace to society,
• http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2107181/Disabled-pensioner-slept-lounge-protect-valuable-possessions-strangled-death-serial-criminal-prison-ON-LICENCE.html

What with all this and the myriad of other depressing issues (including fuel at £1.50 a litre - not a gallon - a litre and VAT at 20%) I ask myself what would be the point in returning when I'm sure that there's a large selection of England's population planning to or would like to leave?  

I suppose I just need to look for an alternative.

Driving Me Mad

Drivers.  It's a problem that is never ending and you'd think in a country with so many unemployed people that finding something as straightforward as a driver would be relatively simply.  Well believe me, it's not.

The first driver I had, Ken, was actually the owner of the vehicle we were renting.  The problem was, even thought we were paying, he thought the vehicle was still for his primary use.  Similarly our the office, the internet, the photocopier.  Then, when he moved into a room in the house I was renting, without asking, sneaking in and out and using what little water was available, that was the final straw and he had to go.  Which was a shame because he was a nice guy but he just took kindness to be weakness and then took advantage.

When I moved to Subic I had another driver/vehicle.  He drove like a nutter.  On a trip to Manila I had to keep telling him to slow down.  But he couldn't.  It got to the point where I was about to tell him to turn around and go back.  The only good thing he did was help me get a local driver's licence.  Then I spent a period driving for myself

Joel came next.  A good, capable and professional driver.  I liked him.  I could relax whilst he did the driving and I didn't feel the need to do the driving for him, constantly jumping on a brake pedal that didn't exist in the passenger foot well.  But he also took advantage and was moonlighting whilst I was away, driving and using the vehicle for his own commercial means.  I wouldn't have minded so much had he stopped the first time I caught him out but he either thought he was cleverer than me or just thought I was plain stupid and he got caught out time and time again.  I just became too much and so I had to sack him too.

Then there was a guy who lasted one day.  He was supposed to know Manila but didn't have a clue and we spend the whole day driving around lost.  Then he got a ticket for an illegal U turn.

In desperation I tried another guy, John.  He turned up at the meeting point with his family.  He seemed okay and a reasonable driver.  Our deal was for him to drive and when in Manila we would buy him lunch.  He took this to the max and ended up spending more money on food than what we paid him in salary, even disappearing at one point, leaving in the lurch the airport whilst he went off to buy himself more food..  Plus all the loose change in the car went missing to boot.  I almost overlooked all of this but the following day he failed report for work and left me sitting in the rendezvous car park like a lemon for an hour.  No phone call.  No text message.  Oddly enough, even now he keeps texting me to see if I need his services.  He just doesn't get it.

Chris was another contract driver I employed at an exorbitant rate as I was desperate and had to go to Batangas for a meeting at short notice.  He told me he was desperate for permanent work because he had two young kiddies and one on the way and needed a regular income.  I offered him a job and told him what the salary would be and he was enthusiastic to say the least.  So it was more or less a done deal.  The next day, he did the same as John: didn't report for work and didn't call or text or let me know.  Not at least until after lunch  And I was depending on him.  So he was another one who fell by the wayside.  I've given him a second chance but suddenly he didn't like the salary we were offering.  I figure his idea of a "regular" salary is sitting at home awaiting a one off, once a month at exceptional rate job whether it materialised or not and regardless if it was less than the monthly salary we were offering.  It's hard to feel sympathetic.

Then there's Ronnie.  Really, he needs putting out to grass.  I don't feel safe with him in the car and have to watch him the whole time and correct him.  Several times I've had to tell him to get on the right side of the road.

Hence, I've taken to driving myself more and more.  I don't mind but it's not worth it when driving in the mayhem of Manila's traffic.  Last week I was reverse turning in the driveway I share with my neighbour.  Totally preoccupied with banking and work issues, I failed to see the car behind me and there was that sickening crunch of metal on metal.  I thought the damage wouldn't be too bad as the car was just rolling on tick-over.  I was half right.  My Fortuner had a small scratch on the bumper and a bit of paint from the other car.  But the other car!  It looked like it had been hit by a train.  The passenger door was completely demolished.  I went round to my neighbour and apologised and he was amazingly good natured about it.  In the end I ended up paying for all the repairs to his car (rightly so).  

I could have had his car repaired on the insurance but that would have meant getting the police involved and I can't even begin to tell how complex, not to mention costly that would have become.  That's where having a driver comes into its own.

When the Chips Are Down

It's good to be able to find a place that serves good food (see Filipino Food Frights) .  The London Underground (as in railway, not crime) in seedy Barretto is one such place.  Styled along the lines of a London cafe it is principally a fish and chip shop but it also sells all manner of British foods ranging from sausage and mash, fish cakes, stew and traditional English breakfast.  All washed down with a proper mug of tea (choose from either Tetley's or PG Tips).

I always took delight in the menu that stated: "We do not sell French fries.  If you want French fries either go to McDonalds or France." Brilliant.

The shop is owned by an English guy from Tunbridge Wells of a certain notoriety called Steve "Hickey" Hickmott, who I've met on several occasions, usually moaning about the lack of finesse  in the American palate.  No, we don't have A1 steak sauce; no we don't have plastic cheese that comes individually wrapped in plastic (hmmmm, throw away the cheese and eat the plastic, it's far tastier); and no, we definitely, definitely do not sell french fries).

The fish and chips is by far the best meal on the menu.  The fish is always cooked to perfection with a light crispy batter and not greasy or oily in any way.  Okay, so it isn't cod but it's a fine, perfectly acceptable substitute from tropical waters.

Before . . . 

. . .  After

The bad news is it's going to close next month.  I'm not exactly sure why but the girls working there said it was "Because of bills to pay", whatever that means.  Admittedly, it's never packed out but there was usually a couple of expats in there having lunch or dinner, which should of kept the place going.

Lets Hope Someone Buys It.

I for one am going to miss it.

Work Resumes

After the NPA attack on our site in Mindanao at the beginning of October (see Protection Racket) the project was suspended for nearly 3 months but after some meaningless statements from the national police force and the military that were meant to give assurance and restore confidence in the security, we started work again just before Christmas.

It wasn't going to be easy because all confidence was lost and no one seems to be willing to sell, lend, rent or hire any labour, equipment or materials to the project in case there was another attack.  But for us, and along with vague agreement that we'd have all losses and expenses reimbursed, we decided to get stuck in and get the job wrapped up as soon as possible and just get the hell out of there and never go back.

So, after some hiccups with not being able to get a crane, we eventually started slipforming the chimney on the 17th Jan.

Really, the sooner I can see the back of that project, the better.

A Moving Christmas Experience in the Philippines

I haven't spent a Christmas in the Philippines since arriving here so this year was going to be my first.  Not that I'm particularly bothered about Christmas in general and besides, it just never really feels like Christmas here, despite all the decorations and Christmas songs that start playing as early as they do in the UK.  I was in Manila in September and got stuck in some appalling traffic (even more appalling than it normally is).  At the hardware store I asked how come there was so much traffic and they said it was due to everyone Christmas shopping.  In September?

I'm of the mind that so long as you don't expect too much from Christmas or New Year then you won't be disappointed.  In the event, I ended up spending a large part of the day moving house.  Lunch was at a friend's house, the guy that runs the dive company I use, and that was pleasant enough but straight after it was back to lugging furniture.

New Abode

New Year I headed off to Singapore to meet up with my sister. Again, I wasn't expecting much but it turned out to be a good one.  The day New Year's Eve started with a walk to the Marina Bay Sands resort to have brunch on the skypark of the hotel.  As you may or may not know I worked on the construction project for 18 months which was a mega-development but without doubt a phenomenal and hugely impressive achievement.  Whilst what's above ground is spectacular, what's in the ground is equally impressive but will never be seen or appreciated by the public. A reflection of this is that there was more time spent building what's in the ground than what's above. It's just a shame that something of this grandeur can only be built off the back of a sordid casino and the obscenely huge profits made from exploitative gambling (is there any other type?).

Marina Bay Sands Resort

Buffet brunch was in the Ku De Ta restaurant with an awesome view north over the whole of Singapore, with the City of Johor Bahru in Malaysia clearly visible in the distance, and to the south across the sea to Indonesia.  But all this doesn't come cheap and it's an expensive lunch.

View to the South

View to the North

After lunch we headed to Clark Quay for a few more beers beside the river and left there early evening, battling through a hellish thronging crowd to the taxi rank to head back to the hotel.  Fortunately, taxis were aplenty as they were dropping off revellers (how they fit them all into Clark Quay I don't know), unlike one New Year's Eve I'd spent in Singapore where I had to wait nearly 2 hours for a taxi, which is no fun when you've a belly full of  beer and a very full bladder.  I really takes the edge off a good evening.

The evening and welcoming in the New Year was spent bopping in the hotel bar and quaffing more booze.