T.P.

Public washrooms aren't usually the most pleasurable places to go. They're dirty, they're smelly, and they lack the comfort you're used to from your own personal 'relief space'. That being said, sometimes duty calls and you're forced to use a public washroom.

Public washrooms here in Manila are like playing that 'game' Russian Roulette. But instead of using bullets, you're playing with a roll of toilet paper. Sometimes the toilet paper is there, sometimes it isn't. But unlike Russian Roulette, you want the toilet paper to be there during your turn. It's not a very fun game when it isn't. Most of the time it isn't there; either people are stealing it or the cleaners have stopped refilling it altogether. Maybe they stopped refilling it because people were stealing it? It's hard to say, but all I know it's not always there and it's completely annoying to anyone, like me, who finds themselves in an emergency situation where having a nice friendly roll of TP would be helpful.

There seems to be various levels of TP non-existence. On the base level, there's no TP, never was TP, never ever will be TP until the end of time. On the next level there's the public washrooms that were generous enough to give you TP but for some odd, sick, and demented reasoning they put it OUTSIDE the stall. How is that suppose to help you? I guess they figure if it's outside the stall, in the plain view of everyone, you're less likely to steal it. Okay, I understand that logic but there's one very important thing they didn't consider: people will waste more TP this way. If you're forced to take what you need before you go into the toilet stall isn't it human nature to take more than what you need? Of course it is, you will always take more. There's no way to estimate how many sheets you are going to use so just to be safe, you grab an insane amount. It's better to have too many sheets than not enough right?

On the next level we have the washrooms that are nice enough to give you TP and they are logical enough to put it inside the stall but then they forget this very important thing called the toilet seat. These places annoy me because I feel like they're teasing me; they give me something I want and need but take something away in exchange. You cheeky bastards!

Some places charge you to use the washrooms. For a mere 5 pesos you can have the luxury of an exclusive paid washroom experience. Sounds good eh? Sounds like paradise huh? Nope, these places oddly are worse off than the non-paid toilets. I've paid to use washrooms in parks that not only lack TP and toilet seats, they also lack doors on the stalls. What is my hard earned 5 peso going to? I was in a washroom last week that charged a 5 peso entry fee but 10 peso per TP sheet. Gotta love that business empire!

To be fair though, some malls have semi-nice free washrooms with TP in the stalls. There's one mall I go to that not only has semi-nice free washrooms but also slightly-nicer paid washrooms. For 10 peso you can relax and do your business in a slightly cleaner environment with free-flowing toilet paper. Ah yes, luxury! I do wonder though what's stopping people from paying the 10 peso and then stealing 20 pesos worth of TP? Maybe no one has ever considered this. Maybe it's only me and my demented Canadian criminal mind!

Merry Pinoy Christmas 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...

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...

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)...

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!!

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....

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!