Thursday, December 25, 2008

Friday, December 19, 2008

Holiday Ham

It's Holiday Ham time here in the Philippines! Holiday Hams are individually wrapped hams in decorative Christmas-themed boxes. And for some odd reason, most of the Holiday Ham kiosks are manned by homosexuals! I'm not kidding here. They're manned by gays that are the spitting image of what a homosexual stereotype is! They sing, they dance, they giggle, they wiggle their little gay asses trying to tempt you to purchase more holiday ham. I don't know what the correlation between homosexuals and ham is, but there definitely seems to be some sort of connection here. How did this happen? Did the homosexual's involvement in the ham industry happen overnight or has it been something that's been slowly building every Christmas? I wonder if in the beginning one homosexual was hired and his ham sales were so impressive that the meat company decided to hire more homosexuals the next year. Soon, 10 years go by and nearly all ham salesmen are gay. That's one theory. Another possible theory is the top executives from the meat industry got together one day in their boardroom and tried to come up with ways to sell more ham. Imagine a bunch of overpaid suits throwing out nonsense ideas and one says, "HEY, I have it! Let's hire homosexuals to sell our ham!" In response the other executives look at each other for a moment, consider this idea, and then all in unison decide this is the best idea ever. They all pat each other on their collective backs and congratulate on a job well done. And as with most board meetings, there's always one guy who only speaks up when it's obvious everyone else approves the idea. This guy would probably say something like, "Great idea! I would buy anything from a homosexual!" The homosexual ham revolution was born! All kidding aside, I actually really DO wonder why most of these ham salesmen are gay. Is there some sort of cultural thing I'm not understanding here? Whatever the reason, this sales technique doesn't work on me. I don't eat ham; and I'm not gay. So flirting with me by making kissy noises and wiggling your ass isn't going to make me buy more ham. But, weirder things have happened in this world; if the Philippines turns me into a throbbing homosexual ham eater you may see me buying truckloads of ham off our happy gay ham friends!

I wonder what the pigs think of all this...

Monday, November 3, 2008

Price Checkers

In this crazy fast-paced world people tend to think faster now, talk faster now, walk faster now ... everything is now now now. Well ... in most places. I notice things here in the Philippines aren't necessarily 'now now now' but more 'sometime sometime sometime.' I often find myself wondering about the concept of speed here. Filipinos seem to live in a slow-paced and relaxed world. They walk slower and they take their time when doing things. I actually respect this way of thinking. More people need to slow down, and, as the saying goes, smell the roses. But I also think there is a proper time and place for this relaxed slow mindset. And one place, in my opinion, that should never ever be relaxed and slow is the world of supermarket price checkers. Let me explain: The supermarket price checker's job is to quickly check the prices of things that the cashier cannot find the price for. In most cases there's going to be a large lineup of people waiting behind you so the faster the checker finds the price and tells the cashier the better. In Canada there's a supermarket chain called the Real Canadian Superstore that understands the need for quick price checking. They've equipped their price checkers with roller blades and full roller blade body armour. This allows these guys and girls the ability to zip from isle to isle at warp speeds to get your price fast. Super fast. Quick price checking means less time for you to wait at the cashier and less grumpy people waiting behind you. Makes perfect sense doesn't it? Sounds like a system that should be globally understood right? Well ... no ... not here. Price checkers here are a completely different animal. A race between the turtle and the hare comes to mind. Price checkers here are, you guessed it, the turtle. Whenever I go to the supermarket here and I notice a barcode on one of the products I want to buy isn't scanning properly I immediately grind my teeth knowing I'm going to have to wait forever for that price to get checked. First it takes forever for the cashier to locate a price checker, then once one is located, it takes an eternity for him to return with the checked price. I honestly don't know where these price checkers go. Part of the problem is none of them seem to think checking the price is really that important. Once they're asked to check the price they don't zip, nor run, nor even walk to the price. They amble. They stroll. They sloth. They slug their way to some remote location not even close to where the product is they need to check. There was one time I saw the product that required checking two isles down from the cashier. Did he go there? No, he went somewhere else. Where did he go? Why does it take so long? Was he trying to work up the courage to check the price? Was he heading over to the local karaoke booth to sing a few love ballads before checking the price? Did he bump into a friend in one of the isles and drink a few bottles of San Miguel before checking the price? Where the hell is the damn price checker? It's an insane situation because no product is ever worth wasting 10 minutes of my life waiting for. Most of the time I just get frustrated and give up waiting. Obviously that means I didn't buy the product therefore the store didn't make that money off of me. These slugs are bad for business. Doesn't the store understand that? Please, oh please, hire some fast price checkers. I'm not expecting roller blade fast, or even rabbit fast, but please, at least, at the minimum fastness of a new born kitten (actually, come to think of it, a new born kitten still unable to walk with its eyes still shut is probably faster than these guys). At any rate, I think in the future I may start offering to check my own prices. If they allow me... I'll even put on my roller blades to do it! Oh wait, I don't have roller blades ... no matter, even if I had to leave the supermarket, buy roller blades, put them on, zip back to the supermarket, and then quickly check the price I would still be faster than them. Tsk tsk, they give slugs a bad name...

Friday, October 3, 2008

Pet Blessing

You know you're in a Catholic country when...

Coming up this weekend two places in Metro Manila are offering 'Pet Blessing'. One of these places is actually within walking distance from my condo. When I saw this sign I found myself wondering if my cat, Daphne, would appreciate getting a blessing from a Catholic priest. Although the blessing is happening within walking distance from where we live the act of getting her there isn't the most pleasurable in cat terms. I would have to shove her into a cage (which she hates), carry her outside into the loud traffic (which she hates), and stand up in a line up of dogs (which she hates) to wait for her blessing. That's a lot of effort from both Daphne and me. But then there is also the question of religion. Is Daphne religious? I have no idea. I've never seen her praying. I've never seen her reading a little cat-sized bible. And if Daphne is religious I don't even know what religion she is. I'm not Catholic so maybe Daphne isn't either. But since Aimee is Catholic maybe Daphne has decided to be Catholic as well. Or, maybe, Daphne follows a special cat religion. I think a cat religious bible would be rather short. The first first pages would talk about how Kitty God created Earth and all its comfortable places to nap. This Earth also has an over abundance of delicious kitty meals to eat and beautiful gardens to poop in. Kitty God then created humans to act as the personal slaves for the cats. And that's it; that's the Kitty Bible. I'm sure the kitty clergy originally intended to have more chapters written but since they spent most of their time napping, eating the occasional mouse and getting high off catnip the rest of the kitty bible never got finished.

I like the idea of a pet blessing. It gives pet owners the peace of mind that their pets are being cared for by God as well. Even if you're not Catholic it's an intriguing idea to think that some greater power is keeping your pets safe when you're not around. But shoving my frightened cat into a cage and dragging her down to the Pet Blessing? I don't know ... I doubt my cat would appreciate that. So no pet blessing for Daphne this time. Maybe next time but until then, I have faith that Daphne's own personal Kitty God will keep her safe.

Kitty God blesses you all (maybe not the dogs)...

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Nation of Singers

The Philippines is a Nation of Singers. This isn't a term I invented but I will gladly borrow it for this blog because it's a perfect description for the people here. Filipinos like to sing. It's impossible to go through a day without hearing the sound of humming or singing. Sometimes, when I'm walking through a crowded area I'll hear either individual people, or groups of people break out in song. The groups of people singing are a little disturbing to me because they seem to just start singing without discussing the song first. It just happens. One moment they're quiet and minding their own business, the next moment they break out in song. I often wonder if I'm trapped in some odd science fiction musical film where all the inhabitants share a collective mind when it concerns music. Sometimes I think the singing is a nervous twitch ingrained into the Filipino subconscious. The people here seem to sing more loudly during stressful situations. A good example of this is when I had a minor disagreement with a shop owner concerning the price of something. The sign said, "Sale 40% off" but the shop owner wouldn't give me the sale price. He said the sign was lying. How could a sign lie? Signs don't lie. I was so annoyed I left without buying anything. This exchange between me and the shop owner produced a fit of loud singing once I turned my back. He was stressed and the singing made him feel better.

Beyond singing to yourself in public another big thing here is karaoke. Or, as the call it here, KTV. You can get together with a bunch of friends or family in a small private room and sing songs together. In some of these places you can even food and drinks and spend the night singing to your little hearts content. KTV places come in all shapes and sizes. They range from small shacks to huge businesses with private rooms. But what if you can't make it to a KTV place and singing to yourself without music isn't good enough? How about a coin operated karaoke hut?

These little huts always make me laugh because although they can comfortablely seat six people, I only ever see one person inside. Isn't it lonely singing by yourself? I guess when singing in the shower isn't good enough these things come in handy.

The next step in KTV enjoyment is singing in the privacy of your own home. The cheapest of these home karaoke units is called Magic Sing Xtreme. It's essentially a microphone with a built in collection of songs and images. You select the code of the particular song and up pops on your TV screen a selection of random images, the words to the song, and the music to sing along to (Aimee and I actually own one but never use it). When you go into malls there's always a person promoting the Magic Sing Xtreme. And what's the best way to promote a karaoke microphone? Singing of course! Imagine that being your job. Singing everyday, eight hours per day, nonstop. What I love the most about the people that promote the Magic Sing Xtreme (let's call them the Xtreme Promoters) is how they really put their heart and soul into the singing. You really feel the emotion of the song. It's like going to a concert. Only at this concert the main singing act gets ignored by the audience. What I find totally surreal involves the images used for the background while you're singing. When they aren't from Philippines destinations they're oddly from places in Canada. Specially, Vancouver. I'm still trying to figure out what the connection between Canada and addictive singing is. Maybe, secretly, behind closed doors, when no one's looking, with the curtains drawn shut and the doors securely locked, Canada too is a Nation of Singers.

Monday, September 15, 2008

Post Office - Sending Mail

Mailing a letter here in the Philippines isn't an easy task. There are no public mailboxes conveniently located anywhere. That's because there aren't any mailboxes ... period. If you want to mail a letter, you need to mail it at the post office. This may seem convenient enough but considering each city only seems to have one or two post offices, and if you live outside the post office area, you're a bit out of luck I'm afraid. Your only option if this is the case is a post office kiosk located in some malls. These kiosks may, or may not be connected to the real government run post office. Some, it seems, are privately owned small businesses that take your mail, charge you an inflated price that includes the mail cost as well as their commission, and then delivers your mail to the real post office for you. I was forced to use one of these post office kiosks today. I've mailed letters from numerous countries (Canada, the US, Hong Kong, France to name a few) and there's always a system these countries follow when it involves accepting, processing, and delivering your name. A Global Postal System if you will.

The system goes like this:
1) You enter the post office and present your letter to the clerk.

2) The clerk looks at the mailing address and then based on the letter's destination he/she will inform you the cost of mailing said letter to the listed destination. This cost is determined by a pre-organized and country-wide approved rate for the processing and delivering of mail.

3) You pay the clerk said price and he/she immediately attaches a stamp to the letter, takes it, and files it efficiently into one of numerous bins organized into various destinations and/or delivery speeds. For example, if I'm mailing a letter from Hong Kong to Canada to the bin would be labelled something like, 'international'.

4) Quite frequently, you're also given a receipt documenting the post office service you requested.

This is the system. This is the rule. Never deviant from this rule. The Post Office Gods will be very angry. My experience today must have really ticked off the Post Office Gods. Using the Post Office System/Rules listed above as a guide, I will now describe my post office kiosk experience.

1) I walked up to the post office kiosk and presented my letter to the clerk.

2) After what seemed like 5 minutes she mumbled out the price. I asked her to clarify because I didn't understand the cost she mumbled. She repeated her mumble but this time it sounded like a completely different mumble therefore the possiblity of a completely different price. After three more 'excuse me please repeat' I discovered the cost to mail a letter from the Philippines to Canada is 26 pesos.

3) I paid the clerk the 26 pesos. She took the money and I waited for her to take the letter and attach a stamp. This didn't happen. The letter just sat there on the counter. I stood there confused why the letter was still sitting there lonely and stamp-less on the counter. The Global Postal System declares that once the money for postal services are given the next step is always accepting the letter into the post office's loving arms and then concluded with the romantic relationship of a stamp being beautifully attached to the letter. It's almost like a wedding. This is the rule, and why would anyone ever want to fuck with this rule? So I stood there rotating my confused glance between the depressing naked stamp-less letter and the clerk. Letter, clerk, letter, clerk... In some ways I'm a creature of habit and order. I like things to make sense and it drives me nuts when things don't make sense. This didn't make any sense. After what seemed like five minutes the clerk asks, 'is there anything else sir?'. I reply 'no' and slowly turn and walk away. From the corner of my eye I kept looking to see if she ever took the letter off the counter and attached the stamp. No such luck; the letter continued to sit unhappily on the counter. My imagination took over: I started wondering if this post office kiosk was just a clever ploy to steal mail. I imagined the kiosk clerks opening the letter I was mailing, taking out the photos I included, framing them and decorating the kiosk with photos of Aimee and me. Thankfully I snapped out of this demented imaginary world and got back to reality. But the reality is, I still have no idea if my letter will ever make it to Canada. I'll have to keep you posted on this.

4) And oh, by the way, I was never given a receipt.

This is about sending mail. Stay tuned for an exciting blog about receiving mail!

Friday, September 12, 2008

Umbrellas

It's funny how you can get to so used gender specifics. Simple concepts like 'blue for little boys' and 'pink for little girls' gets ingrained into your psyche even as an adult. Men act certain ways and like certain things and woman also have their gender specific attitudes and interests. Obviously the study of the psychological differences between the sexes isn't any thing new. Whole libraries could be filled on this topic. My purpose of writing this blog isn't to complete with John Gray and his Men Are From Mars, Woman Are From Venus series of books but rather to talk about one small gender specific attitude towards ... umbrellas. On a rainy day in Vancouver (which, if you're a Vancouverite you're quite familiar with) it's quite easy to know the sex of the person by the umbrella they are using. Men's umbrellas are very masculine: they're long, sturdy looking, and always a manly colour like black or something equally dark. Women's umbrellas are petite, can fit comfortably into a purse, feminine looking and always happy bright colours or patterns. Women can get away with using a man's umbrella but a man caught using a woman's petite flowery-patterned umbrella may find himself mocked and/or ridiculed. Or at least, this is how the mindset is ingrained into the male psyche. So imagine my horror recently when I looked out the window, see pouring rain here in the Philippines, and realize there are no manly umbrellas in our apartment. All our umbrellas here are happy bright and sunny colours that would be at home in a baby girl's nursery and never ever in the closet of a man. I want ... no ... I NEED, my black manly umbrella. So on realizing my choices were either the mocking and ridicule brought on by using a woman's umbrella or getting drenched with rain water I opted, rather grudgingly, to stay dry and use the woman's umbrella. So I exited the building and waited until the last possible second before opening the umbrella to the rain. The umbrella opened and I walked onto the street. I embarrassingly hid my face from the passers-by knowing full well a white guy with a girl's umbrella is probably more humorous to a Filipino than a local man and his Barbie-like umbrella. I walked down the street and finally lifted the umbrella away from my cowering face so I could see the cars approaching at the intersection. What I saw shocked me. No, not only was it shocking but also Earth-shattering. 37 years of male conditioning melted away in mere seconds. What I saw was a sight no Vancouverite would ever think possible. This may shock you also. Are you ready to find out? Okay, here it is: I discovered that Filipino men don't care what sort of umbrellas they use. As long as it covers them from the rain that's all they care about. I saw men using flowered umbrellas. I saw men using happy neon yellow umbrellas. I saw men using hot pink umbrellas. I even saw one guy walking around joyously (more like skipping actually) with his bright pink Hello Kitty umbrella lifted proudly above his head. Can you believe it? No black masculine umbrellas any where. I felt like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz clicking my manly boot hills together screaming 'there's no place like home, there's no place like home.' Dammit Toto, we're definitely not in Kansas anymore!! It's the Twilight Zone of the umbrella world! It's strange but you know, it's almost comforting to see this. It's about pure logic; you need shelter from the rain and you use anything you can. Who cares what it looks like! Once I understood this logic I too proudly skipped around with my happy girl's umbrella. If the men of this country can ignore umbrella gender specifics so can I!!

Friday, August 22, 2008

Fat Wallet

When I left Canada and moved here I had a skinny wallet. It was skinny because I removed all the unnecessary junk that was weighing it down.

When we made the decision to move here I went through the process of cancelling most of my credit cards. I figured what good is a Canadian department store card in the Philippines? I had lots of cards. Too many actually. It's amazing how easy it is to get more cards and get yourself further into debt. Heck, I even had credit card companies offering me cards to move my debt around. Why have debt on only one card when you can have it spread across 20 cards? I over exaggerate when I say 20 credit cards; I didn't have that many but I did have at least 6. 6 cards add a certain amount to fatness and weight to your wallet. And if 6 credit cards weren't bad enough it's those damn points cards that add even more obesity to your wallet. Airmiles cards, points cards for departments stores, Subway sticker cards that take you forever to fill up but continuously tempt for with a free sub, cards from coffee shops telling you your 10th cup of coffee is free if you buy the first 9... the list goes on and on but what it all boils down to is a really fat wallet. So without all those cards my wallet was nice and skinny. It was really liberating burning off all those wallet pounds. I could gently slip my nice skinny wallet into my pocket and no one could tell it was there. No bulge. No huge wallet that makes my ass look 10 times larger. Sweet sweet skinny!

That was then... let's talk about now. When we arrived here I got myself a Mastercard attached to a Filipino bank branch. That's the first card. From there I found myself being offered various points cards for various stores. When I wasn't offered points cards I stupidly began applying for them. I'm not sure why. I don't think it was the promise of great discounts that tempted me. Most of these cards have a points system I don't even understand. You start off with points and then the points turn into e-cash and then the e-cash turns into discounts and finally the discounts turn into free stuff. So basically, after 4 decades of using the points card I may, or may not start getting free stuff! I guess it was the promise of free stuff that tempted me. So here I now, once again, with a fat wallet. It's not only fat, it's obese. It's larger than it was in Canada! You think I would have learned from the fat wallet mistakes of my past but obviously I have not! I guess I am forever destined to a world of fatness....

Friday, August 8, 2008

Cheap Booze

When you do comparison shopping between the cost of things in Canada and the cost of things here in the Philippines you'll notice how inconsistent some things are. You would assume, for example, that things produced in Canada would be cheaper in Canada and more expensive here. This isn't always the case. A good example of this is Canadian Club Whisky. Canadian Club Whisky, when purchased in British Columbia, will cost you around $30 CDN. I recently saw a bottle of Canadian Club being sold here for 400 pesos. If you're quick on the global currency conversions you're probably shocked at the huge difference between these two prices. Canadian Club, here in the Philippines, is insanely cheaper. 400 pesos works out to $9.50 CDN. MORE THAN TWENTY DOLLARS CHEAPER CANADIAN! What the hell? Canadian Club is distilled in Canada and it's more expensive in Canada. I know the liquor taxes are inflated in Canada but this is just plain silly. The fine Filipino folk can get drunk off Canadian liquor at a cheaper rate than the poor overtaxed Canadians. It's a sad sad world.

Maybe I should start up a Canadian liquor store online that sells Canadian Club back to Canadians but at the Philippines price point. I could call this reverse importation or exportation to home soil. Better yet, the next time I travel back to Canada I should fill up my suitcase with bottles of Canadian Club. When Canadian customs informs me I've gone over the allowable limit for alcohol importation I'll just tell them they're 100% wrong. I'm not importing alcohol at all, I'm just bringing these poor depressed bottles of Canadian Club back home. They didn't like the humid climate of the Philippines and wanted to come home to Canada. The customs officers will understand. Being homesick isn't a crime. Plus the customs officers should thank me; I'm feeding Canadian liquor back to Canadians. There's nothing more patriotic than that!

Friday, July 25, 2008

Kiosk Yummy!

I'm often surprised by the diversity of food kiosks here in the Philippines. If you're hungry, and craving something, it's pretty safe to assume you'll locate your desired craving in a tiny food kiosk.

I've been slowly collecting photos of food kiosks and fast food stands during my many travels here. Some were taken with my cellular so that accounts for the less-than-perfect quality. Some of the kiosks offer food you've never heard of before and others offer food you see on a daily basis. So sit back, relax, and enjoy the exciting world of Filipino food! Or, at least, enjoy the names these kiosks have been given. They're either quite clever or downright silly. You decided which is which!

Chicharific!!! Not two but three!!! exclamation marks!!! With that much energy put into the writing it must be good!!! Chicharific!!! sells chicharon which is deep fried pork skin. Not completely uncommon; people in the US or Canada know it as pork rinds.

BibingKinitan! What a mouthful! Bibingka is a Filipino dessert made from rice flour. The dessert is baked in a specially-made clay oven, with hot coal as a source of heat, placed above. Before being served, butter or margarine is spread and sugar is sprinkled over the bibingka. It is typically served with grated coconut.

Megamelt. Megamelt sells various Filipino bakery delicacies like cheese ensaymadas (it's a tastey bun-like-thing with cheese on top).

Now I understand why they designed the Megamelt logo that way: It's to give the appearence of melted cheese. But in my warped viewpoint of the world the first thing I thought of when I saw the logo was dripping blood. Maybe I'm a little twisted but the logo reminds me of the kind of font you would see in a horror movie.

Burger Machine, not technically a kiosk but since I see these little burger shacks all over the place I thought I should include it in this blog.

Schatzi’s German Sausage!

This sausage master at Schatzi’s German Sausage even looks the part. So German-esque! The thing is, although I don't eat German sausages anymore I ate a whole lot as a kid (having a German father will do that to you) and I know that their claim of offering 'Famous Delicious German Specialties' isn't 100% truthful. When I looked over the counter all I saw were standard, traditional, basic, bland, everyday wieners. Wiener's that were sausage-sized yes, but wieners nonetheless!

Balut Eggspress! Balut, for those of you unknowledgeable about the delicious Filipino delicacy is a semi-formed duck embryo eaten whole after being steamed or boiled. Perhaps a picture is necessary with this description:

Yum-o-yum!

If semi-formed duck embryo isn't your thing, Balut Eggspress also offers semi-formed chicken and quail eggs too! Steamed or boiled aren't your style? How about deep fried with a side of rice? Balut Eggspress isn't the only balut kiosk on the block, I've seen others. Sometimes a kiosk isn't even necessary. On occasion I've had people come up to my car at traffic lights trying to sell balut. People yum it up here!


KISS: King of Balls! If you like balls, KISS is the place for you. If KISS isn't good enough for you (which is pretty highly unlikely, KISS IS the KING OF BALLS after all), you can walk about ten feet to:

MORE BALLS! I often wonder if MORE BALLS really does have more balls? But how is that possible? How can MORE BALLS have more balls than the KING OF BALLS? Kings hold the highest court in the land; wouldn't they be the master of everything that is ball-plenty. To add to this ball competition, we have other kiosks with the clever names: Odd Balls, Quick Stix Squid Balls, Rolling Balls Fishball, Streetballs, and my person favourite: Wang Balls (no, I'm not kidding here. Balls are a serious matter).

Oh yes, ham. Everyone loves ham. Especially when it's a Majestic Ham! This ham isn't elegant, epic, grandiose, impressive, magnificent, splendid, or even stunning, it's simply, majestic!



You know you live in a tropical country when... Mr. Coconut for all your coconut-related needs. I wish the sales clerks had to wear coconuts on their heads. I think that would go along way with the public. People would really take you seriously if you wore a coconut on your head. I'm coconut and dammit I'm proud of it!

It's fast but is it really NACH-O FAST? I was shocked when I saw this Nach-o Fast restaurant. Usually you only find Nach-o Fast in tiny kiosks. I guess the Nach-o Fast business is doing really well. Next stop, Nach-o Fast the Canadian Edition! I wonder how they got so successful when their main competitor is called Nacho King? Just another example how being the King of something doesn't mean you're the best!

Peanut World! Isn't calling yourself the World even more egotistical than calling yourself a King? How can you claim to be the world of peanuts? Do the peanuts agree? Personally, if I want hot roasted peanuts I would buy from Peanut World's competitor: Believe It Or Nuts! Yes, I'm being serious. Believe It Or Nuts really exists! I want to open my own nuts kiosk right beside Believe It Or Nuts and call it To Be, Or Nuts To Be! Pretty clever huh?

Potato Cuddler! I don't know what a cuddler is but I'd rather not be thinking about cow udders when I'm chomping down on a french fry. I'm curious how they make the fries actually. I didn't see a deep fryer or even an oven for that matter? Rather than eating cow udder potatoes I think I'll frolic on down to...

Potato Corner! Look at those happy dancing potato guys. They're just begging to be eaten!

World Bangers! The world of all porn! It's not a hot dog, it's a haüte dog! Imagine an evening with Peanut World and World Bangers! Wow, party time!

I included this photo to show you how small these kiosk stands really are. I'm always surprised by the extensiveness of the menu items that gets produced from these stands. Don't be fooled but it's small size, these stands produce more food choices than regular restaurants!

I end this blog now with the famous Dirty Ice Cream Cart. The ice cream really isn't dirty of course, it's just a name affectionately given by the locals to describe ice cream that's sold on the street. Rather than the cream coming from cows, the cream comes from a caribou. The caribou, otherwise known as the water buffalo, is the national animal of the Philippines. Let's take a look...

So I wonder if you can call this a food kiosk? It produces a food product and comes complete with a sales clerk who really produces the food.

I wonder what Ms. Caribou would call her kiosk? Probably something like KISS: Queen of Milk, or why not just go for the whole damn thing and call her business MILK UNIVERSE!

"Mam sir would you like some really fresh milk?"

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

I See White People

I've lived in the Philippines for almost a year now and I've gotten pretty much used to being the only white person in the village. Of course, I'm not really the only white person in the village (village being neighbourhood) but sometimes I can go several weeks without seeing another Caucasian. At first this bothered me. Not because I'm white and Filipinos aren't but because being white means I really stand out. I stand out, and people stare at me because of it. Especially kids because they don't know any better. They stare, and continue staring even when I stare back. At least with adults once I stare back they quickly look away and pretend they weren't staring in the first place. I hated standing out, and I hated being stared at. In Vancouver I liked blending in with the crowd. Sure, Vancouver is a mosaic of several races/cultures but it's still so easy to blend in with the crowd. Here in the Philippines, I can't blend; they treat me like some odd celebrity which to this day I still don't understand. So imagine being a shy guy who hates standing out in a crowd who ends up moving to a country where blending is impossible. Let's just say my first few months here were rather awkward. The staring really bothered me. But as time went by I got used to my odd celebrity status and now although I don't necessarily revel in it, it definitely doesn't bother me as much anymore.

Now that you've read above, I can tell you about a new development in my life here: I've become like those staring Filipinos. Since I hardly ever see Caucasians anymore it actually freaks me out when I see large groups of them. I'm not used to it. I'm used to the happy, friendly Filipino faces, not the like often serious and grumpy looking Caucasian faces. When ever I see Caucasians I find myself wondering if I should stare at them, smile at them, or ignore them altogether. Maybe this is the same thought patterns a local Filipino has when they see me. I think like them now so I'm one step closer to being pinoy!

Monday, July 21, 2008

"Mam Sir"

People are always greeting me here. No matter where I go, people are always greeting me with a soft spoken, "Good morning Sir," "Good afternoon Sir," "Good evening Sir," or a simple "Hello Sir," or an even simpler plain old "Sir." But, I find when I go into stores where it's become second nature for the sales clerks to greet the shoppers they hardly ever pay attention if you're male or female. It seems as soon as they see someone walking towards them in the corner of their eye they will automatically say, "Yes Mam Sir." Not ma'am, but mam. Many times I've been called this androgynous (or would that be hermaphrodite?) term. It's not a direct reflection of my masculine sexuality; I'm not really both a ma'am and a sir, I'm just greeted this way because I guess some of these shop clerks are too lazy to look up, see what gender I am, and then adjust their greeting to fit my masculine form. I'm happy to say that so far, I've never been just a 'mam.' It's either Sir, or Mam Sir. It gets really funny when a sales clerk even after looking up and seeing your gender continues with the 'Mam Sir' greeting.

Maybe Filipinos are just preparing us for the inevitable evolutionary next step. In a couple million more years we might all be androgynous anyhow and reproduce via cloning rather than man and woman intercourse. In a world like this, where you're neither man nor woman, then the 'Mam Sir" greeting is spot on. Filipinos are smart; they think ahead!

Monday, July 7, 2008

Siesta

Filipinos, like every good Spanish influenced people really enjoy, and are serious about, their afternoon siesta. Around lunch time it's quite common to see people sleeping in the oddest of places. I was at Aimee's office once around lunch time and saw people, as soon as the clock turned 12 noon, pull pillows out of their desk drawers, plop them down onto their desk tops and immediately face plant their heads into the pillows. The face plants were instantly complimented by a round of snoring. Sleeping at your desk is a pretty safe thing to do. What are the chances that you could do some bodily harm to yourself while sleeping at your desk? Pretty nil. But imagine a little siesta in places much more dangerous; like perhaps a construction site. I took these two photos the other day of construction workers having a little afternoon siesta:

The guys sleeping on the ground are pretty safe. Safe from falling that is. But look at the guy sleeping above them. Let's take a closer look:
This guy is a true, seasoned professional siesta master. I would be terrified sleeping on a flimsy board twelve feet off the ground. But yet, this guy does it! He seems pretty relaxed and not worried one bit about the board breaking or him rolling off onto the ground below. Amazing. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised by this. Filipinos are always doing death defying stunts like this. I see construction workers all the time doing things like welding without a protective mask or lifting heavy toe breaking machinery without protective boot wear. Protective boots? Heck, they only wear flip flops most of the time.

They are a brave fearless people these Filipinos!

Cockhouse

A few months ago I wrote a blog talking about the number of cocks here in the Philippines. Cocks are everywhere! So now that you know this, then you shouldn't be overly surprised when I tell you about a chain of cock-related stores here called Cockhouse. They sell a number of exciting cock-related merchandise for your daily cock needs.

A brief product list:

Cock hats
Cock shirts
Cock clocks
Cock cups
Cock puzzles
Cock key chains
Cock DVDs
Cock books...

...and when you're finished dressing yourself up in cock-related goodness then it's time to pamper your cock. They sell:

Cock feed
Cock shampoo
Cock clippers
Cock clothing
Cock medicine

Cock medicine? Yes, cock medicine. Cock fighting is sadly still legal here.; so people treat their cocks like little lightweight champion boxers. And like boxers, they need to be pumped up full of vitamins and medicines to keep them fighting longer, faster, and more efficiently. Some of the products even sound like cock steroids!

I swear that there are more products for cocks in this country than for cats. Poor pussy, being overshadowed by a bunch of cocks...

Friday, June 13, 2008

Cheap Labour

Labour is cheap here in the Philippines. Anything that involves actual manual labour of some sort is way cheaper in comparison to Canada. Visits to the dentists are cheaper. Haircuts are cheaper. Massages are way cheaper. Installations of things are cheaper. A current example of cheap labour regarding installations happened to me today. In Canada when I wanted internet hooked up in my home the internet company sent me one guy. This one guy dealt with the hardware installation, the software installation, and the product testing. One guy. Today I was getting internet hooked up in our condo and the internet company sent three guys (or at least I think it was only three: the first visit consisted of two guys and the second visit consisted of three guys. I'm 89% sure the second group of three included the first group of two. I might be wrong and if that's the case, my internet experience consisted of five guys!). These three (or five) guys consisted of the hardware, hardware (yes, two hardwares) and product testing. One job per technician. The first technician tested the phone lines to see if they were working. The second guy took the router out of the box and plugged the cabling in. The third guy tested the internet connection. By 'testing' I'm referring to him calling me over to show me an exciting rap video he was playing off YouTube. Three guys! I wonder if the last technician, the testing technician, picks the same rap video for every customer or if he mixes it up a bit. Maybe he picks a video that best represents - to his knowledge - the interests of the costumer. If that's the case, I'm curious why he thinks this white boy from Vancouver, Canada is down with the homies. Yo Brotha, I'm down with the Pinoy!

You would think having three technicians would make the job more fast and efficient but oddly enough, it was less efficient. My appointment for the installation was suppose to be yesterday morning but when they didn't show up and I had to set up a new time of 11am today, they decided to show up at 8am when I wasn't at home. 11am rolls around, I get home, call them, and discover they've not only left the building but left the city too! Thankfully, eventually, amazingly, they showed up around lunch time which to a Filipino is a very important siesta time (blame the Spanish influence for that one). I'm honoured they sacrificed their little afternoon nap for little old me! Thank you Gentlemen Technicians, this Canadian boy salutes you!

Saturday, May 31, 2008

Hugs and the City

I just came back from watching the movie version of Sex and the City and I must tell you, I feel totally ripped off. The version they're showing here in the Philippines is a badly edited 'de-sexed' one. Any of the steamy sex scenes that may have been in the original cut were left out of the cut here. And the way they edited out these scenes was terrible. They must have hired the meat butcher of film editing because the cuts were painfully obvious. Imagine a scene where a couple is about to have sex, they hop into bed and start kissing, all of a sudden the movie's music cuts out abruptly and the couple are lying in bed, sex finished, and talking about something unrelated to the pre-sex conversation. The editor not only cut out the sex scene but all the dialogue that went along with it. I found these slasher cuts very distracting. What I don't understand is why a movie with no swearing and no sex is till rated restricted? I guess the government/church really wants to keep the public away from impure sexual thoughts that this movie may, or may not, bring on. I suppose I'll have to watch the DVD when it comes out to see what I missed. But for now, I think they should retitled the movie here in the Philippines as Hugs and the City.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

KKK

Let's talk about the KKK...

... no, not that KKK you one track-minded people; I'm referring to the KKK here in the Philippines.

During my first trip here back in 2001 I saw this huge monument proudly being displayed in Manila (I know it's hard to appreciate the scale of a monument in a photo but keep in mind that all the people are life-sized - well, ignoring the giant dude on top of course!):

Now imagine my confusion when I first saw it. Obviously being from Canada and hearing constantly about the close-minded racial morons in the US called the Klu Klux Klan I was immediately speechless with dumbfounded confusion. My perplexed brain started wondering if their was some sort of connection between the KKK in the USA and the KKK here in the Philippines. I immediately discounted that possibility because, well, I highly doubt the fun loving Filipinos would want anything to do with the close-minded racial morons in the silly white hoods.
A couple to days after my KKK monument encounter I came across this restaurant:
Fun loving Filipinos eating in a KKK-branded restaurant? Does every kid's meal come with a little white hood? No, no that's not possible. There's no connection. There can't be! I figured this must be another exciting episode of "Lost in Transition," also better known (in my head) as "Cultural Confusion." I decided to read up on what the Filipino KKK actually is. To summarize what I discovered:

The Katipunan was a Philippine revolutionary organization founded by Filipino rebels in Manila, in 1892, which aimed to gain independence from Spain.

The word "Katipunan" comes from the root word "tipon", an indigenous Tagalog word, meaning: "society" or "gather". Its official revolutionary meanings are translated as Kataas-taasang, Kagalang-galangang Katipunan ng mga Anak ng Bayan (Supreme and Venerable Society of the Children of the Nation). The word were used by Filipino revolutionary rebel leaders. Katipunan is also known by its acronym, KKK.

So thankfully, there's no connection to the badly dressed cotton balls with pointed heads from the US.

What lesson did we learn here? Never assume what you think you know, or not know, or may know sometime in the near or far future is 100% correct the world over. An acronym of hate in one country could very well be an acronym for bravery and freedom in another!

That is my lesson students, you may, or may not be tested on this!

Restaurant Greeters

When you find a row of restaurants here in the Philippines you usually find several people standing out front, menu in hands, trying to convince you to pick their restaurant over the others. I use the word convince very lightly. They generally don't seem as interested as they should be about getting you inside. This is their job after all so I don't understand why most of them seem to be so bored doing it. To help to understand what it's like think of it this way: you're in a mall and there are 10 restaurants in a row all offering either similar things or completely different things from various countries. What they offer is unimportant, it's all down to being a good salesman and convincing you, the possible customer, that the restaurant they represent is the only choice for you. That's what it's about - or at least - that's what it should be about. But here in the Philippines this particular job seems to have a different requirement. It's not about advertising. And it's certainly not about convincing. It seems the only job requirement is to be slightly informative and only slightly interested in talking to you. Let me explain: you walk by this row of 10 restaurants and each greeter takes one small step closer to you, raises the menu only slightly higher in your direction, and says the following words, "_____food Sir." The blank represents the style of food in the restaurant. "Italian food Sir," "Japanese food Sir," "Chinese Food Sir," "Thai food Sir," "Filipino food Sir..." But this is all fine and dandy, I can already see the type of the food the restaurant offers even before the greeter greets me. So how is saying, "Japanese food Sir" suppose to convince me that this is my best restaurant choice? Especially considering that there might be 5 Japanese restaurants all in a row. Each greeter only saying, "Japanese food Sir." And when I ask if the food is good, the only reply I get is, "Japanese food good Sir." Yes, I know Japanese food is good but is yours good? I never seem to get an answer. It gets really funny when you're approached by a greeter that represents a restaurant that has a wide range of international dishes on their menu. Rather than saying, "Japanese food Sir" you will get either a bored, "food Sir," or just them telling you the name of the restaurant. If I was to ask them what sort of food they offer I would get a, "many foods Sir." So I start looking through the menu and reading it under my breath saying things like, "Oh, I see pasta, I see sandwiches, I see pizzas...," followed by a bored reply by the greeter of, "Yes, pasta Sir, sandwiches Sir, pizzas Sir..." So far, during my life here, I've never, ever, been approached by a greeter who really convinced me their restaurant was the only one for me. It's always overly polite and bored sounding greetings that never, ever, describe the food.

On the other side of the world in Mexico these restaurant greeters really work for your business. They will not take no for an answer. They will run up to you, menu in hand, and say things like, 'best burritos in Mexico, sexy waitresses, the most fun you will have EVER for the REST OF YOUR LIFE. THESE ARE LIFE CHANGING BURRITOS!!!" If you try to walk away they will chase after you. "WE WILL COOK YOU ANYTHING!! ANYTHING!! OUR WAITRESSES WILL SERVE YOU FOOD IN THE NUDE. OUR RESTAURANT IS THE BEST PLEASE BE OUR COSTUMER!!

Quite a difference eh? Like night and day! Either Mexicans are better salesmen or Filipinos are just more polite people? I actually don't like either of these techniques. One isn't aggressive enough, and the other is too aggressive. Is it so hard to have a greeter who sits happily in the middle?

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Unsolicited Texts

I'm actually surprised at the number of unsolicited cellular phone text messages I receive here in the Philippines. I don't know how or where these people get my phone number from but the text messages seem to be increasing. The texts range from simple advertisements regarding sales at stores to asking if I want to purchase a new car or property. I don't know about you but every time I consider buying a new home the first place I look for good deals is through a text message! I'm sure the text messaging real estate agents are very trustworthy! On second thought, I think I prefer to buy my home from someone else thank you very much! What bothers me the most about these unsolicited text messages isn't that they're happening (which yes, is quite annoying) but how hard I find them to understand. The Filipinos text in an odd format I can't translate. It's a miss-mash of Tagalog and English words, cleverly called Taglish. This odd mixing of languages isn't the worse part, it's the crazy grammar and abbreviated spelling that makes translating even the English components impossible. Now, I'm a traditionalist when it comes to advertising. As a consumer I expect the advertisements directed at me to make sense. It's that the point? I want perfect spelling and I want perfect clear and concise grammar; is that too much to expect? But instead, even companies I shop at who I'm happy to receive information from sends me texts that I either can't read, or the frustration from the improbable grammar mistakes or cartoonish abbreviations makes me give up and delete the messages entirely. Now I know what you're thinking; you think I'm being harsh. You're probably saying to yourself that the reason these texts are badly written is because they're probably sent from people who use English as a second language therefore I should be more understanding. No, I refuse to be understanding because most people here in the Philippines speak excellent English. All the stores I shop in employ people who speak excellent English. But for some odd reason, this beautiful understanding of the English language never makes its way into a text message. Text messaging has just become a real lazy form of a new language here. Text Taglish we shall call it!

Here's the first example of a unsolicited text message:

Get 20k-2M loan,asLOWas 1.2%int/mo!Up to 48mos!NO COLLATRAL/COMAKA! 1mo PAYMNT HOLIDY!Call Helen... Pls dsrgrd msg f not intrstd.Tnx&God bless!

Now I understand the gist of this message but the part(s) that bother me the most are the ones where the words are so close to being correct but they got lazy and abbreviated them:

PAYMNT, HOLIDY, dsrgrd, intrstd....grrrr. Please, oh please, just add that last letter. Is that so hard to do?

Here's another example. This time from a store I shop at quite frequently called Healthy Options:

Gud eveng Sir! Dis is to infOrm u dat u are includ'd on our goldc'd list,d gOld card wil entitlle u a 10% discOun once u availed d required points, as such u hv until may 26,&d need'd amunt wud be ____ tnx&best of health.-luz/healthy OptiOns mall of asia/.

Is the 'luz' their business version of 'luv'? I don't understand. Once again, words that shouldn't be nor needed to be shorted get oddly abbreviated.

My final example shouldn't even have reached my cellular's inbox. It's not addressed to me so I don't understand why it was sent to me. See if you can understand the meaning of this one:

Pd pload 60 kc emrgncy lng. D2 kc ko bukid e wlng ngloload d2. Palitan ko nlng doblehn ko pa. D2 rn sa # na to ha laz ko lng 2.May ttmgn lng.

A perfect example of Taglish. A mixture of both English and Tagalog words, both abbreviated.

I'm tempted if these unsolicited texts continue to start sending my own badly written versions back to the senders. Maybe abbreviated insults will get them to stop?

U ashOle, stp txtng me. I am a canuck & im pis'd off by ur anoy'ng msg's. stop or i wil find u & brek ur fOne.piss off & God Bless. -Luz mE

"Pleasure To Meet You Mr. Ambassador"

Today was one of those days where to say to yourself, "Wow, that was something I wouldn't have done if I was still living in Canada." And it's true, I did two things today that were completely outside the realm of normal day-to-day life if I was still back in Vancouver. The first thing, which happened in the morning involved taking a course. Now, as you know, going to school for a course is a pretty normal and average thing to do. Courses are something I've taken in Vancouver. But it's not the idea of going to school that's the unique part, it's the course itself. Today I went to a course called, 'Managing Your Household Staff.' Having a maid or a driver in Canada is a pretty luxurious thing. Only the richest of the rich can afford live-in maids, personal security guards, and drivers that drive you around all day, everyday. But here in the Philippines having household staff is pretty commonplace, even for the middle class. Now I'm not saying I took this course because I need to know how to manage my own personal body guard. I don't have a guard and I never plan to get one. I don't even like the idea of a live-in maid. I actually find it weird waking up every morning and seeing several maids running around cleaning things. The house we live in currently has several maids and drivers; and although I've gotten used to it as time went by I still like having a bit more privacy. So once Aimee and I decide to move we're not having live-in maids; especially in an apartment. Call me old fashion but I like walking around in my underwear if the desire hits me and with live-in maids I feel like I have to dress up somewhat respectively just to leave my room. Your home is your castle so it's all about what do you prefer: a clean house and no personal privacy or a semi-dirty house with hours of pleasurable underwear dancing. We may have one maid - a part-time maid - so I guess taking this course is somewhat relevant if I need to know how to manage her. I won't bore you with the details but let's just say the course taught me how to locate possible staff, how to interview them, how to manage them once they're hired, how to keep them happy, and how to punish them (non-violently obviously) if you caught them stealing or such. The course also went briefly into cultural differences between us western types and the Filipinos. Some Filipinos are very superstitious about certain things so our instructor said it's a good idea to familiarize yourself with some of the customs just in case you find yourself in a situation where the maid refuses to wash dishes on a Friday because evil spirits will possess her through the sink drain (I made this one up but some of the superstitions are actually quite close on the silly meter). When the course ended I found myself walking away with new and exciting knowledge on how to be a boss. I also found myself thinking about the bosses I've had over the years and how they should be taking the course I just finished. Most of my ex-bosses had no idea on how to deal with employees and I think this course - although talking about Filipinos - would be a good and positive educational experience for them. Maybe I should fax my course booklet to my old places of employment?

Did you know that the stanard wage for a live-in maid in the Metro Manila area is only 3000 to 4000 peso per month? That's - only - $69.10 to 92.14 CDN. You're probably sitting there thinking to yourself, 'Holy crap, I would feel guilty paying someone only $69.10 a month.' and you wouldn't be alone. Most of the expat families here thought the same thing and started paying their employees on a pay scale closer to the one a North American would earn. So imagine being a Filipino, getting hired by an expat family and finding your wage going from 3000 peso per month to, say, 2000 peso per week or more. Needless to say this discrepancy in wages has caused a bit of an issue in the household staff labour force. Any maid that has had an expat employer in the past now expects a rate much higher that the labour code suggests. I wonder if the non-expat families - the Filipino families - are annoyed at the expats for paying their staff so high?

The course ended, I had lunch, headed home and got ready for my evening out. My evening consisted of attending a general meeting for the Canadian Club of the Philippines. We're a group of Canadians who get together on both a social level and a charitable level. The Canadian Club raise funds for local Filipino charities and try to help out the poor as much as possible. The general meeting, this time, was held at the house of the Canadian Ambassador to the Philippines. I've met the Ambassador before, during Christmas time but I wasn't 100% satisfied with our meeting. You see, when I first heard I was going to meet a real Ambassador my mind started to fill with scenes from movies - usually James Bond-type movies - and how meeting an Ambassador is such a big deal. I thought to myself how I need to do this properly; I need to greet him in the most respectable way possible. I had my greeting practiced and ready to go. I would say, "It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Ambassador," smile, and shake his hand. It didn't actually go that way. When Aimee and I arrived at the Ambassador's house we were greeted by two people at the entrance. A woman, and a man. I shook the woman's hand and then moved over to the man's hand. He didn't announce himself as being the Ambassador so I didn't immediately think to blurt of my, "It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Ambassador," line. We finished the hand shaking and just as I was about to ask him if he's the Ambassador a waiter comes up and offers me a glass to wine. I grab the wine and turn back only to see a new guest shaking his hand and saying, "It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Ambassador." What??? Are you kidding me? That was MY line! I missed my chance and sadly at the end of the evening I also missed my chance to say, "It was a pleasure to meet you Mr. Ambassador." So Christmas with the Ambassador was a complete write off. No dramatic James Bond styled secret agent scenes for me. I was just another face in the crowd for the Ambassador. So imagine my pleasure when I heard the next Canadian Club meeting was going to be at the Ambassador's house! "It's a pleasure to meet you again Mr. Ambassador." I can do this! We arrived at his house and went though the entrance. There were two ladies greeting us at the door: the Ambassador's wife and a member from the Canadian Club. Where is the Ambassador? How am I suppose to wow him with my rehearsed greeting if he's not even here? I grabbed a glass of wine and started to mingle. An hour went by and I still didn't see the Ambassador. Finally the meeting started and out popped the Ambassador. He said a few words and disappeared again. I didn't see him for the rest of the evening. Second chance: failed! I hope I don't have to wait until the next Christmas party to say my amusing and cunning greeting. Knowing my luck I'll finally get the chance and accidentally blurt out something like, "Pleasure to eat you Mr. Assador." Oh, the horror ... I shiver in fear at the likely possibly of that happening.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Ambassador ... one day, soon, in the future, when ever you have time, let's have coffee ... and some maple syrup eh!"

Friday, May 2, 2008

Singapore

Aimee and I spent a few days exploring Singapore. Singapore, the home of Tiger Beer and Tiger Balm!

Singapore is an island nation located at the southern tip of the Malay Peninsula. It lies 137 kilometres (85 mi) north of the equator, south of the Malaysian state of Johor and north of Indonesia's Riau Islands. At 704.0 km (272 sq mi), it is one of the few remaining city-states in the world and the smallest country in Southeast Asia. Singapore became a self-governing state within the British Empire in 1959 with Yusof bin Ishak as its first Yang di-Pertuan Negara and Lee Kuan Yew as its first Prime Minister. It declared independence from Britain in August 1963, before joining the Federation of Malaysia in September as the result of the 1962 Merger Referendum of Singapore. Singapore left the federation two years later after heated ideological conflict between the state's PAP government and the federal Kuala Lumpur government. Singapore officially gained sovereignty on 9 August 1965. Yusof bin Ishak was sworn in as the first President of Singapore and Lee Kuan Yew remained Prime Minister.

Although Singapore's laws are inherited from British and British Indian laws, including many elements of English common law, the PAP has also consistently rejected liberal democratic values, which it typifies as Western and states there should not be a 'one-size-fits-all' solution to a democracy. There are no jury trials. Laws restricting the freedom of speech are justified by claims that they are intended to prohibit speech that may breed ill will or cause disharmony within Singapore's multiracial, multi-religious society. For example, in September 2005, three bloggers were convicted of sedition for posting racist remarks targeting minorities. Some offences can lead to heavy fines or caning (caning is a physical punishment consisting of a number of hits (known as "strokes" or "cuts") with a wooden cane, generally applied to the bare or clad buttocks, shoulders, hand(s) (palm, rarely knuckles) or the soles of the feet), and there are laws which allow capital punishment in Singapore for first-degree murder and drug trafficking. Amnesty International has criticised Singapore for having "possibly the highest execution rate in the world" per capita. The Singapore government argues that there is no international consensus on the appropriateness of the death penalty and that Singapore has the sovereign right to determine its own judicial system and impose capital punishment for the most serious crimes.

Reading this you might be thinking, "wow, Singapore is a pretty harsh place". The laws are extreme, the punishments for crimes are extreme but when you take these things into account, and if you're a law bidding citizen, Singapore is probably the safest place I've ever travelled to. Or at least, Singapore feels like it's the safest place. I read the newspaper every morning while I was there and saw no articles or news about crime. Nothing. I'm sure it exists but from my viewpoint I didn't see any. Singapore is also an insanely clean place. You can practically eat off the sidewalk. The fines/punishments for littering are so extreme that no body seems to do it.

I really enjoyed my time in Singapore. It may not have the ancient history of other Asian countries but it does have its own quaint personality. From a tourist perspective I noticed Singapore is pretty much made up of sightseeing, places to eat, a few museums, and a whole mess of theme parks. Singapore's main income comes from tourism so they've built various themed places for tourists to go. Here are some things we saw while there:

This is the Merlion, Singapore's national symbol. Half lion, half fish. There are five official Merlions in Singapore approved by the Singapore Tourism Board. The largest is on the island of Sentosa.

The building behind Aimee and I is called the Esplanade. There are two of these duplicate buildings side by side. They are used for live theatre and performances. The locals affectionately nicknamed these buildings the Durian Buildings because of their close appearance to the fruit. Don't believe me? Look at the photo below:

Ah, great durian ... the stinky rotten cheese fruit passionately loved in Asia!

Aimee and I decided to take a walking tour of Little India. Walking around Little India really opened my eyes about how multicultural Singapore is. They call it 'Little India', and it is primarily Indian, but you still see a wonderful mosaic of other cultures. This photo is a good example of this. In the middle of Little India I saw this Chinese-themed display. Actually, the only thing in this photo that shows it's Little India is the two Indian fellows in the foreground.

The following are several photos taken around Little India:



Our travels in Little India brought us to this mosque.

We took off our shoes, screamed as our naked feet hit the frying pavement, and walked quickly to the inside of the mosque.

While inside we were treated to a short tour and a summarized lesson about the Muslim faith. It was an educational experience but sadly due to the Imam's (Muslin Priest) thick accent I only understood 75% of the lecture. After he finished talking he quickly left leaving me wondering what the missing 25% was. I scratched my head in confusion and decided to try to fill in the blanks. Maybe it's this 25% of blanks being filled that's causing all the religious issues in the world?

Next stop, Sentosa Island!

Sentosa, which means peace and tranquillity in Malay, is a popular island resort in Singapore, visited by some five million people a year. Attractions include a two-kilometre long sheltered beach, Fort Siloso, Underwater World, two golf courses and two five-star hotels.

To get to Sentosa you have to take a gondola ride from the mainland. As you approach the island you're welcomed by this giant Merlion. At 37m/121ft, this is the tallest version of the half-lion, half-fish.

We decided to join a bus tour to see some of the sights of Sentosa. Our bus tour included a guide and I must say, our guide was more entertaining than Sentosa itself. Our guide was extremely gay, and extremely stressed. Do you remember the movie Father of the Bride (the remake) and in that movie Martin Short played an overly stereotypical gay wedding planner? If you were to take that character, make him Malayian, and then give him a Singaporian accent, you would have our guide. He was stressed because it was not only a weekend but a holiday as well so they were overloaded with tourists. As he attempted to collect every person part of his tour together he screamed out in a high and squeaky voice, "Everyone with me here, everyone who's with me here." We all gathered around him and then he quickly walked us to the bus. And I mean quickly. I saw old Grandma's running to catch up with him. We got on the bus and were taken to our first stop: Dolphin Lagoon. Dolphin Lagoon is basically an outdoor dolphin show. Did I say it was outdoor? Oh yes, outdoor and pouring rain. It's hard to enjoy a dolphin show when you're getting drenched wet in the rain like a dolphin. I ran into the gift shop and paid an insane amount of money for a Singaporian themed umbrella which sadly broke as soon as I opened it. I ran back to the gift shop, got a replacement, opened the umbrella, located Aimee and attemped to enjoy the dolphin show while being smacked in the head by the umbrellas attached to short people. Needless to say, Dolphin Lagoon wasn't going to go down in my travel book of favourite places.

The show ended and we met at our designated meeting spot. We were greeted with another round of, "Everyone with me here" and followed our guide back to the bus. During the bus ride I could tell our guide was relaxing a bit. He started to tell jokes and odd jokes they were. Our next stop was going to be an oceanarium (the new hip way of saying aquarium) called Underwater World and our guide jokingly asked us all to go see the manatee and tell him who is more sexy, him or the manatee. Obviously he was joking but it seemed he was the only one laughing (giggling obsessively actually). We stopped at Underwater World and got off.

Underwater World is Asia's largest tropical oceanarium showcasing some 2500 marine life from 250 species from around the regions and one of Singapore's most popular tourist attractions. Once you reach the bottom level of the oceanarium you step onto a moving sidewalk that takes you through a 83-meter long underwater tunnel. I stood there in awe of all the species of sea life in front of me and then I was greeted by the prize of my visit: the manatee...

Hello Miss Manatee! I remembered back to what our travel guide said, who is more sexy. I couldn't decide given the choices I was given: a sea mammal or a homosexual tour guide? Who is more sexy? I figured it was best to just play dumb if our guide repeated the question. After all, it was probably just a one-off joke right? He wouldn't ask that again would he? Well, once we got back to the bus he did ask. The bus went quiet. Deadly quiet. I noticed I wasn't alone in my quest to play dumb. Everyone was playing dumb. After what seemed like an eternity of uncomfortable silence are bus started up and we moved on to our next destination: The Extreme Log Ride!

No wait, you need to say it like this in a deep voice: THE EXTREME LOG RIDE!

The Extreme Log Ride is a 4-dimensional ride that will tickle all your senses. In theory at least; that's if it worked properly. While we were waiting in the line up I saw a poster advertising the ride this way:

Sit tight! These Super-Trees that are grown in a 'Super World' will rush down ravines and gush through deep caves, crocodiles and danger awaits you at every turn! Will you make it to the harvesting plant? Hang on and find out!

Finally after 40 minutes of waiting we were at the front of the line and it was our turn to go inside. We found ourselves in yet another waiting room only at least this time they entertained us with a music and light show. After 15 minutes of that we were finally allowed into the coveted area of the EXTREME LOG RIDE. We were given 3-D glasses and rushed to grab our seats. The seats were inside these little spaceship-looking-things that sat 6 people per car. Aimee and I weren't fast enough so we ended up sitting in seats way at the back. Mostly because we were following a group of 4 people who couldn't seem to decided who they wanted to sit beside. Their group kept reorganizing themselves while Aimee and I waited. After they were finally happy with their seating arrangement Aimee and I noticed they sat in a way that didn't allow us to sit together. We politely asked them to reorganize themselves again so there would be two seats side by side. Thankfully they did. Aimee and I sat together, buckled up our seat belts, and excitedly waited for the EXTREME LOG RIDE. A female host came out and gave us all a brief list or rules and once that was complete she lowered her voice into a deep growl and said, "All aboard the EXTREME LOG RIDE". The lights dimmed, and with our 3-D glasses on the show started.
In the show you're sitting on a log as it goes through various areas of a forest. You're cut in half by saws, you're rushing down rivers, you're being attacked by crocodiles... While all this is happening, in 3-D, our spaceship-thing moves with the motion you see on the screen. It was an amazing ride - well - until it started breaking down. The first viewing went on for about five minutes. I noticed after the five minute mark that our spaceship-thing stopped moving. I looked at the other spaceship-things and notice they too had stopped. The lights came up and the host came out and said there was a minor error and the EXTREME LOG RIDE will start again - from the start. The lights dimmed and we were brought back to the beginning of the show. This time we got through three minutes of the ride when I noticed everything on the screen was going blurry. My first thought was my contacts were dry and I wasn't seeing properly. I took off the 3-D glasses and looked around. Everything else seemed to be in focus (from what I could gather sitting in the dark). I whispered to Aimee, "Hey, do you see something weird about the screen?" She replied, "Oh yeah, I thought it was my contacts." Once again the lights came back up. The host came out and said, "Sorry, there was another error please stay tuned we will restart the EXTREME LOG RIDE from the start." The lights went down again and we were once again we were brought back to the beginning. We got through four minutes this time. This time she said, "it looks like someone detached their seatbelt during the ride. Please keep your seatbelts fassoned. We will restart the EXTREME LOG RIDE shortly." The audience were all looking around trying to figure out (and beat) the person who unfassoned their seatbelt. Finally, the ride started up again. This time we got through two minutes before everything stopped and the lights came up. The host came out again and this time she said in a pissed off tone, "you SEE what happens when you remove your seatbelt. Now we need to start from the beginning again." I could see the audience all suspiciously looking at each other. But I could also see a 'People Power' movement forming. Everyone, almost in unison, started up blurting out things like, "It's not us, IT'S YOU", "We're not doing anything", "We're all innocent, really", but the main thing I heard was, "Can we please just leave now?" Unfortnuately our spaceship-things had a door that locked you in once you entered. We were all trapped. The lights dimmed and the show started again from, you guessed it, the beginning. Two minutes this time before it stopped. The lights came up and I saw a small man in a red jumpsuit run into the theatre and slide under the spaceship beside us. The people who saw him were all saying things like, "hey you, what's happening?" or "What are you doing, can we please just go home now?" You could barely see him under the car and he didn't answer, The doors to the spaceships remained closed. The lights started to dim and this time the error involved the spaceship doors opening just as the show started. Aimee and I saw people taking advantage of this by rushing through the doors and sprinting towards the exit. Aimee and I followed. As we were running we heard the host say, "you are free to leave if you wish but if you stay, get ready to be thrilled by the EXTREME LOG RIDE!!" I could see the expression of most people. The expression was, "Screw you lady," and we all bolted out the exit. I did notice though that 20% of the audience remained. I guess they truly were enjoying the EXTREME LOG RIDE!!

The EXTREME LOG RIDE was the last sight of our Sentosa tour. We hopped back on the gondula and headed back to the mainland. That night we went and saw the Night Safari.

Indiana Kenn says, "I really enjoyed the Night Safari."

Nestled in 40 hectares of lush secondary forest, the Night Safari offers guests the unique experience of exploring wildlife in a tropical jungle at night. Through the use of subtle lighting technique, guests are able to view over 1,000 nocturnal animals of 100 species in vast naturalistic habitats. It's the first in the world apparently. You are given the choice between taking one of the walking tours around the safari or riding on a tram that covers more area than the walking tour. We decided to do a little bit of both.

All aboard!

The trouble with a safari at night you see is it's at night right, so it's dark right, so unfortunately, I couldn't take a whole lot of photographs. Flash photography was banned understandably because it annoys and scares the animals but that still didn't stop the odd person from trying to sneak a flash shot by when the guide wasn't looking. Obviously the morons didn't realize that's it's impossibe to 'sneak' a picture with a flash by in a dark area. Everything lights up! One person tried three times and each time our guide told them to stop it. The flashed was blinding and if the animals weren't annoyed I certainly was.

The tram ride took us passed lions, elephants, wolves, and sorts of animals. Most of the dangerous animals were separated from us by only a ditch. The more peaceful animals were allowed to walk up to the tram if they wanted. Everything about the Night Safari reminded be of the movie Jurasic Park. Thankfully during our trip there, no one got eaten.

During one of the walking tours I found myself face to face with a fruit bat. I've never seen on so close before. I looked at him, he looked at me. He seemed to nibble on his apple more agressively the close I got. I was able to stare at this guy from a distance of only 2 feet. Amazing. Say what you will about bats, but I think they're kind of cute.

Aimee saw this hat and begged me to take a picture of her. Begged me! It was uncomfortable actually. I don't know why she was so passionate about wearing this hat....

...oh, okay, I admit it, I was the one doing all the begging. But I really wanted a photo of her in an elephant hat. It's a bit of a dream of mine actually.

Elephant hat photo with wife: check!

Bye bye Singapore, you were a great place to visit and we loved everything about you except the...



... EXTREME LOG RIDE!!