Mo-vember

During the month of Movember, all male members of staff are encouraged to grow a moustache and become what's known as a Mo Bro. The idea behind it is that by highlighting our masculinity,
we will help raise awareness of the dangers of prostate cancer.

Consequently a small number of courageous colleagues temporarily sacrificed their vanity
to turn the clock back to the Studlike Seventies.

The horrendous results of what happened can be seen below.

The "Hulk Hogan"

The "Rafa Benitez"

The "Barry Mcquigan"



The "Village People"

The "Clark Gable"

The "Samuel L. Jackson Pulp Fiction"

The "Tom Sellick"

The "Salvador Dali"

The "Bruce Grobbelaar"

The "Ali G."

The "Clement Freud"

The "Inspector Clouseau"



The "Josef Stalin"

The "Graham Souness"

The "Freddy Mercury"

& last but not least ... 


The "Ecky Thump".

So all I can say is ...

 Thank God it's December!

 

A weekend in Sabang, Puerto Galera

The trip to Sabang on Puerto Galera is an eye-opener for all sorts of reasons. Whilst this quiet diving resort doesn't have a huge amount to offer visitors, it is more the experience of the journey itself which typifies why living in Asia is so often an unexpected attack on the senses.

Getting there necessitates a two-hour bus ride south from Manila and upon arrival at Batangas Pier, there are no clear signposts to direct you where to go in order to buy your ferry ticket. Consequently you are immediately accosted by a cluster of hustlers who insist on accompanying you to the ticket booth. Before you've even purchased your ticket, a number of other guys have already muscled their way in on the deal, and trying to cut out the middle man and conduct the transaction yourself proves pointless.

Your boat ticket needs to be validated by adding the necessary receipts, firstly for an additional fee you need to pay for environmental protection and secondly for an additional cost for use of the terminal. In light of the facilities at the port, both of these fees are an absolute joke. However, before you can ask where to go to pay them, the ticket vendor has already given these guys your ticket and money, and they've disappeared with them in their hands to carry out the transaction for you. According to the saleswoman, these men are employees of the company, so she is doubtlessly in on the scam too.

In future I've decided a new plan of attack, which will be never to ask for directions and always to speak German whenever spoken to. Whether it will work or not remains to be seen.

Once in the building whilst waiting for your ferry to sail, you see what your 50 pesos terminal fee has purchased. This is basically the use of a coffee shop with no coffee on offer and "No stock sir" is a phrase you will constantly hear everywhere you go in the Philippines. In addition, you now have the chance to get an on-the-spot pedicure from a local professional. Perhaps the client's toe-nails flying through the air are considered a good reason to charge you the 30 pesos fee in aid of environmental protection !

The two-hour ferry crossing to Sabang proves fairly uneventful (other than a 45-minute delay) and the resort itself is no bigger than a few streets consisting of bars, restaurants and dive shops. On Saturday night if you venture into one of the gogo bars, you will be treated to a live stage show featuring a number of extremely bored-looking young girls who barely know how to dance.

One notable exception is a local beauty who produces a raunchy show and a choreographied climax to the song Bohemian Rhapsody. From a personal viewpoint, I am only sorry that I am not sitting directly in line with her buttocks, as these must be quite something to observe as she continually girates while clenching and then releasing the muscles in her arse cheeks in time to Freddy Mercury and the boys singing 'Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango?'. By the time she gets to 'Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me', Sabang is swiftly increasing in its appeal. However, her performance quickly comes to an end and she proves to be a brief highlight with a performance that cannot be followed or outtrumped in any way.  

Whilst Sabang is evidently not one of the seedier resorts on Puerto Galera, it is nevertheless worth noting that the age gap of the couple sitting close to us in the bar is unquestionably around 50 years. His wrinkles leave me in no doubt that he is clearly the wrong side of 70, while she appears to be early twenties at the very most. But in a continent where granddads are frequently seen dating young girls who could easily be classed as their granddaughters, hardly anyone finds the sight in any way unusual.

The following morning we have breakfast overlooking the seafront and although the service is extremely mediocre, the view is nevetheless enjoyable.

With a 5-hour journey back to Manila ahead of us, we take the ferry across to Batangas. Then, barely two minutes into the bus journey back to Manila, the bus pulls in to the side of the road to enable a hoard of vendors to board the bus and ply their trade whilst continually walking up and down the aisle. They are selling everything from hot rice, puffed rice and bottles of water to hamburgers, crisps and individual mints. The bus even pulls off the road for a few minutes to ensure the vendors all make a killing, before dropping them off and then continuing on its way. Barely 30 minutes later, the whole process starts all over again.

Five hours after leaving Sabang, we arrive back at Manila and I feel a little wiser for one more enlightening experience in this fascinating country.

Filipiniana

Friday 25th November was Filipiniana Day. This is not a national holiday but the annual day on which the school traditionally celebrates some of the customs and traditions associated with the Philippines. Pupils were released early from lessons in order to line the parade route to greet some of their teachers ...



who accompanied the marching bands.

This was followed by the Barrio Fiesta in the courtyard where pupils could enjoy traditional Pinoy
food, such as a whole roasted pig known as lechon which is the national dish ...

and side dishes with white rice in banana leaves.

There were many traditional costumes on view ...

in many different forms ...

styles ...

and colours.

There were exotic dancers...

and some very impressive displays of elegance ...

and swordsmanship.

And for those unable to cope with the heat and in need of light refreshment,
the Magtataho (taho vendor) was on hand ...

 to sell you a cup of taho ...  



that much-loved Filipino snack of fresh silken tofu scooped straight out of a bucket

and then mixed with brown sugar, vanilla syrup and pearl tapioca.

Even the ex-pats ...

of both sexes  ...

joined in the spirit of the occasion and needless to say, a great day was had by all.

Some thoughts one year on

It's probably not every day that you get up and think to yourself that it feels good to be alive. However, exactly 12 months after enduring a heart attack that could easily have changed my life in a far more drastic way than it ultimately did, I feel that I have come out of that whole experience with a greater perception of just how much I have to be thankful for.

Irrespective of the size of my bank account and the number of countries I visit; whatever car I drive and however much crap I needlessly buy to stock up the shelves containing my video, DVD and CD collections; I ultimately know that all of those things would be completely meaningless without the continued love and support of the many people that I owe so much to.

It was in no small measure thanks to the generosity and seemingly never-ending selfless nature of so many of my close friends and family members, especially during those 6 months that I spent recuperating, that I was able to come through it all with a feeling of such positive energy.

In particular, I'll forever be grateful to my loving wife Monika for the incredible way she patiently nursed me back to health without ever once complaining; to my brother Steve and sister Lynn for coming from Britain to be with me when I was released from hospital; to my colleagues from school for all of their visits, gifts, phone calls, text messages and cards during the 6 days that I spent recovering in St. Luc's; to the many caring friends I have in Germany like Dirk and Annette who always made me feel I was in their thoughts; to Elaine, Julie, Leonie and many others who continually gave up their afternoons to make the regular trip to Tervuren; to the Old Firm back in Blighty whose many phone calls were always incredibly uplifting; to all the numerous contributors to the Anglophone department's present of an Amazon Kindle and gift voucher; to Michelle and Penny for their hospitality; to Lucy for her incredible send-off, together with all of the girls who contributed to the performance of Penny's lyrical masterpiece; to Dr Goossens and Dr Dewingaerden and my wonderful physio Els van Rossum in Duisburg, all of whom enabled me to cope with the added complications of a shoulder operation; to Soeren for making me believe that I could risk the amazingly fulfilling trip to Eyke and Mark's wedding; to Caren and Pascal for making me feel such an integral part of that very special day; to my stepdaughter Juliane for her undying love; and to Nicky whose ability to forgive was far more than I ever deserved.

Thank you so much to all of you, and to the many others like Roger & Martha, Pat & Frank, Chris & Rowena, Robert & Sylviane, Kevin & Margaret, as well Luc, Dick and John for helping to put a smile back on my face after what was unquestionably the most difficult 6 months of my life. My recovery wouldn't have been possible without you.

Pacman Fever

November 13 was a big day in the Philippines as it was a chance for Pinoys to see their national hero in action, Manny Pacquiao.  Not surprisingly, the boxing legend's face was visible everywhere you went.

The World Championship fight was billed to be the classic final and decisive victory for Pacquiao in his trilogy of bouts against the Mexican Juan Manuel Marquez. The early start didn't deter his admirers from turning out in force and fans were in confident mood at 7.30am on Sunday morning, posing for pictures in front of advertising posters.

The fight could only be viewed on pay-per-view and bars in Greenbelt were charging anywhere between 400 and 700 Pesos to guarantee you a seat in front of the TV screen. Bear in mind that the receptionist in my apartment block is paid just 350 Pesos for a 12-hour night shift and that will give you some idea as to how much that sum represents for Filipinos. Nevertheless, this was the scene at one such bar a full 5 hours before Pacquiao was due to step into the ring.  

Unwilling to pay those prices, I ventured downtown and ended up paying 200 pesos to watch the action in a rather seedy looking dive called Rogues in the red light district.

Everyone was being consumed by the atmosphere and the waitresses were all sporting Pacquiao

T-shirts specially produced for the big day. 

As the big moment approached I walked out into the middle of Makati Avenue, at this time completely deserted in both directions.

At any other time of the day or night, it's one of Manila's busiest streets polluted with the stench of exhaust fumes and petrol, but not when Pacquiao is fighting. It seems that even the taxi drivers stop working.

The fight itself was a complete and utter anti-climax. Pacquiao failed to live up to all expectations but despite taking something of a beating from Marquez during the middle rounds, the judges nevetheless controversially awarded a points decision in his favour. As the verdict was announced, the tension for some was almost too much to bear. 

With Pacquiao declared the winner, everybody was happy, (with the possible exception of Marquez, his whole entourage, thousands of booing fans sitting ringside at the MGM Grand, and just about the entire population of Mexico). However, this was of little concern to Pinoys and normality resumed in Manila...

... as the taxi drivers and motorists ventured out onto the streets again, bringing Makati Avenue back to life.

Money it seems makes the world go round and if we are to believe what we read, they are already planning fight number 4. (I wonder why?) Nonetheless, impoverished Filipinos will never tire of spending their hard-earned cash on a pay-per-view barstool to see Pacman in action, so watch this space to view photos of the whole thing repeated all over again for a 3rd time! Either that or I'll be taking pictures of the crowds celebrating as he's crowned Philippine President. He's already a Congressmen, so given his popularity, it's not entirely unthinkable. 

All Saints Day Filipino style - A Celebration with a Difference

In light of the fact that the Philippines are so Americanized, it was in no way surprising to discover that Hallowe'en is celebrated so widely here. However, with the ghoulish masks intermittently still on show the following day to help spice up the occasion, it was certainly intriguing to experience the celebratory manner in which absolutely all Pinoys honour the Dead on All Saints Day which follows on 1st November.



The first thing I wasn't prepared for was the sheer volume of traffic out on the streets. Any means of transport was permissible to get you and your loved ones to the cemetery and it felt as if the entire locality was congregating in one place when we reached the entrance to the burial ground.

Large groups of people were gathered around gravestones everywhere you looked. Invariably, the locals were seated, not just around the tomb, but in some places actually on top of it.



The ritual appears to follow a common pattern. At first, flowers and candles are offered to the departed as a sign of respect.

When the whole family is present, a feast begins to celebrate your loved one's life, during which you honour their memory by serving their favourite food.

As a family-oriented society, all generations and branches of the family are expected to attend.

Some individual mourners honour their departed loved ones by exhibiting the manner in which they died.

Other mourners erect brightly coloured parasols and spend the day playing cards.

Children from different branches of the family use the opportunity to enjoy each other's company.

Yet however you chose to spend the day, eventually you are forced to succumb to one of the many vendors who trawl the cemeteries in search of potential clients. The blistering heat ensures that some will resort to any means possible in a futile attempt to combat the soaring temperatures.

Once you're in the cemetery, the only way to leave it is by tricycle. There are simply hundreds of them clogging the roads between the individual graveyards and by-passing them in a car is simply not an option.

It is well worth the short journey by trike to visit the public cemetery. Despite the arguable discrepancy in graveside opulence, the air of celebration tangible there is essentially no different to the almost carnival-like atmosphere in evidence all around the private plots just a few hundred metres down the road.

Before the actual day, I couldn't conceive of what it would actually feel like to spend several hours celebrating with a graveside picnic in a cemetery. Having done so, I have to confess that it was a touching experience I feel privileged to have shared.