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.

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!

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!!