Sunday, March 27, 2011
03/28/11 Posting
03.25.2011 Ramble
Sitting here in Pasig City with two fans going, an occasional stiff breeze blowing through Russ’ apartment, thinking about being cool again-someday. The exertion of thought makes me perspire. I hear Nick’s ubiquitous comment, “Be careful what you wish for.” Then I look out the window at the fruit-laden mango, marcopa and kaimito trees and remember that I am escaping winter. The trees are common property here in Kaimito (Star-Apple) Village, and fruit are there for the taking. You can wait for a breeze to bring them down, or as most residents do; use a bamboo pole with a bag on the end.
Today was trash day in the village. A security guard walks through the grounds blowing his whistle in a sort of “Tweeeeeet-tweet-tweet-tweet” pattern, and the residents carry out their bags to the collection truck. Yesterday, Is and Zarah carried the trash out only to be told that collection (every other day) had been the day before. They were victims of malicious Mynah birds-those that mimic cell phone ring tones, and one resident clown that repeats a car alarm all day.
Noise! That seems to be the most prevalent impression I have of Metro-Manila, more so than the contrast between have and have-nots. I can’t remember a moment of silence since we arrived. The C-5, a major thoroughfare, is a block away. During the day there is the constant whine, rumble and roar of traffic, truckless traffic, I would add. In a futile attempt to minimize congestion, commercial trucks are only allowed on the road at night. So, nights are filled with the sometimes muffler-less din of all sizes of trucks mixed in with the tenor whines of motorbikes, the frequent howl of emergency vehicles and the occasional roar of hot rods; all immune from any sort of noise-restricting laws.
Here in the complex, we have the barking/yelping of a couple of caged puppies who start in early morning when the owner goes to work and continue (without a siesta) until he returns mid-evening. School is out and children do children things; none of which are quiet. (03/28/11 addition: This morning we awoke at cock’s crow-literally. Russell’s next-door neighbor has acquired a fighting cock and, quite preposterously, tethered it to Russ’ gate-right under our bathroom window. Mind you, this is on the third floor of a condominium complex in the heart of Pasig. Oooops, for a moment I forgot where I was.) Anyway, this critter crows hourly at least and also leaves fumets in the hallway which makes a good megaphone; being made out of concrete.)
When we go to the local supermarket/shopping center, the cacophony continues. Everywhere one turns is a stall with people hawking condos, subdivision lots or high-rise apartments. The Food Court houses about ten vendors, from each of which emanates the plea of every one of the seemingly-dozens of staff; flogging their product. The peanut vendor rings a shrill Starvation Army-type bell; the amusement arcade deafens you with the amplified dings, squeaks, twangs and boings of various coin-eaters, a couple of large screen TVs blare insufferable adverts and over it all is a recent “hit” by some disgusting, twangy, white, teenybopper “star” whining about her hair not being cool.
And then the restaurant complex, which is a cluster of about thirty eateries with a common dining area under a large (2 acre+) open air tent, is the same story. The culinary offerings are delicious; coming from all over the Philippines, Asia and the rest of the world…but…then there’s the music-and I use that term loosely. Over the whole panorama of conversation, shouted food orders, delicacy-hawking and wall-less restaurant noise, is a super-amplified p.a. system blaring rap, crap, michael jackson or the rival to the afore-mentioned “oh-waow!”-howling like-california-type female(?). Naturally, all conversation is cranked up a few decibels to compete. What could have been a pleasant meal turns into a gobble-and-get-the-hell-outta-here session at the feed trough.
Black Forest, I’m coming…
Sitting here in Pasig City with two fans going, an occasional stiff breeze blowing through Russ’ apartment, thinking about being cool again-someday. The exertion of thought makes me perspire. I hear Nick’s ubiquitous comment, “Be careful what you wish for.” Then I look out the window at the fruit-laden mango, marcopa and kaimito trees and remember that I am escaping winter. The trees are common property here in Kaimito (Star-Apple) Village, and fruit are there for the taking. You can wait for a breeze to bring them down, or as most residents do; use a bamboo pole with a bag on the end.
Today was trash day in the village. A security guard walks through the grounds blowing his whistle in a sort of “Tweeeeeet-tweet-tweet-tweet” pattern, and the residents carry out their bags to the collection truck. Yesterday, Is and Zarah carried the trash out only to be told that collection (every other day) had been the day before. They were victims of malicious Mynah birds-those that mimic cell phone ring tones, and one resident clown that repeats a car alarm all day.
Noise! That seems to be the most prevalent impression I have of Metro-Manila, more so than the contrast between have and have-nots. I can’t remember a moment of silence since we arrived. The C-5, a major thoroughfare, is a block away. During the day there is the constant whine, rumble and roar of traffic, truckless traffic, I would add. In a futile attempt to minimize congestion, commercial trucks are only allowed on the road at night. So, nights are filled with the sometimes muffler-less din of all sizes of trucks mixed in with the tenor whines of motorbikes, the frequent howl of emergency vehicles and the occasional roar of hot rods; all immune from any sort of noise-restricting laws.
Here in the complex, we have the barking/yelping of a couple of caged puppies who start in early morning when the owner goes to work and continue (without a siesta) until he returns mid-evening. School is out and children do children things; none of which are quiet. (03/28/11 addition: This morning we awoke at cock’s crow-literally. Russell’s next-door neighbor has acquired a fighting cock and, quite preposterously, tethered it to Russ’ gate-right under our bathroom window. Mind you, this is on the third floor of a condominium complex in the heart of Pasig. Oooops, for a moment I forgot where I was.) Anyway, this critter crows hourly at least and also leaves fumets in the hallway which makes a good megaphone; being made out of concrete.)
When we go to the local supermarket/shopping center, the cacophony continues. Everywhere one turns is a stall with people hawking condos, subdivision lots or high-rise apartments. The Food Court houses about ten vendors, from each of which emanates the plea of every one of the seemingly-dozens of staff; flogging their product. The peanut vendor rings a shrill Starvation Army-type bell; the amusement arcade deafens you with the amplified dings, squeaks, twangs and boings of various coin-eaters, a couple of large screen TVs blare insufferable adverts and over it all is a recent “hit” by some disgusting, twangy, white, teenybopper “star” whining about her hair not being cool.
And then the restaurant complex, which is a cluster of about thirty eateries with a common dining area under a large (2 acre+) open air tent, is the same story. The culinary offerings are delicious; coming from all over the Philippines, Asia and the rest of the world…but…then there’s the music-and I use that term loosely. Over the whole panorama of conversation, shouted food orders, delicacy-hawking and wall-less restaurant noise, is a super-amplified p.a. system blaring rap, crap, michael jackson or the rival to the afore-mentioned “oh-waow!”-howling like-california-type female(?). Naturally, all conversation is cranked up a few decibels to compete. What could have been a pleasant meal turns into a gobble-and-get-the-hell-outta-here session at the feed trough.
Black Forest, I’m coming…
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Head Chef at Ft. Ilocandia Resort
03.23.2011 Ramble
Time to catch up. Can’t remember when I last rambled on, but I think it was after the Siquijor trip. Anyway, Geneva, Is and I flew to Manila on the 9th, and the next couple of days were hectic and rather stress-inducing.
The wedding went off without a hitch. Well, almost…The judge wouldn’t sign the official certificate until I produced three documents which I’d not been told to present. Two paparazzi crashed the event (everyone assumed that someone else had engaged them) and were totally rude about trying to flog their wares after the ceremony when we needed to get to the reception through noon traffic. One even walked into the reception lunch and approached us at the head table, trying to sell us a package. I told him where to go, but someone near and dear wound up buying from both of them at a later time. I would have let them suck hind tit, to put it nicely.
Other than the air conditioning failing, everything was fine and the food was really delicious. Among other local dishes, we had blue marlin steaks, steamed Lapu-Lapu, prawn tempura, crisp Pata (a crackling and in my mind, more delectable sort of lechon made out of pork extremities), indispensable rice and, of course-San Miguel.
Next day we flew to Laoag City in Ilocos Norte, the Northwestern-most province on Luzon. It is “Shameless, Thieving Dictator” (S.T.D.) country, his home province and where his widow, “Sinverguenza”, stacks her innumerable pairs of shoes; ensconced as a high-ranking, power-grubbing politician and one of their notorious progeny is also “serving” in a lucrative position.
We stayed at Fort Ilocandia, once a five-star-rated resort that was, coincidentally built during the last years of S.T.D’s reign and is rumored to have been built with the people’s purloined millions. It is now still nice, but rather dog-eared and scarcely populated. Of 400 rooms, no more than 20 were occupied, and we essentially had the place to ourselves-all except for two open of the four (reputed) restaurants. Not being a connoisseur of Chinese food, I would have to say that the fare at Red 8 was better than passable. At the Café Ilocandia, the Filipino and “western” offerings were a disappointment. I would be generous if I rated them mediocre.
The place was palatial, to say the least. We were told that S.T.D. built it as a venue for a daughter’s wedding, and it must have been a grand affair. Unfortunately, but predictably the halls are lined with photos of the disgusting duo rubbing elbows with some really historic world leaders such as Reagan, Castro and Gorbachev. I guess even great people have to suffer fools every now and then.
We did day trips to Laoag and Vigan, the respective capitals of Ilocos Norte and Ilocos Sur. We toured a couple of museums, ate at two surprisingly good restaurants, rode jeepneys, busses, tricycles and calesa, and had a really warm but good time. Vigan was my favored locale in that it boasts Chrisostomo Street which, architecturally, remains much the same as it was in the days of Spanish occupation and grandeur. The buildings are currently filled with eateries, stores and souvenir shops, much as any “Destination”, but if you squint to blur the details, you can look back a few hundred years.
Back in Pasig for the nonce; picking up documents, scheduling appointments, paying fees and eating well/cheap. Is has managed to reschedule her visa appointment for the 31st, but is classified as “sensitive but unclassified”. That is, no doubt, a result of the Border Bastards’ flagging her passport when they refused her entry last September.
Chances are 30-60 that if she is granted a visa; we will be able to convince the consul to issue it a.s.a.p. to allow her to fly with me on the 3rd. If she is able to the likelihood of her getting on my trans-atlantic flight is slim to none, given the late date. So many variables-so little time for San Miguel.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
March 01 Ramble
Back from Bacolod. I connected with a lot of my classmates, most of whom were at the "reunion" seven years ago. One of the missing was Hernan Maalat, who was a cancer victim a couple of years ago. Of the old "Mad" gang, Louis Isasi has passed on during the interim. Miss you guys.
Most of the guys remembered Dylan from '03 and asked how he was doing. I passed on news of all. Thanks to Philip Garcia and Louie Zabaljauregui who hosted me/us at sumptuous meals.
In fact, about all we did was socialize and eat for four days. Lechon at the Hollero's. They are Is' sister, Maryanne's family. Traditional breakfast at Millie's. Great luncheon given by Lope & Maricor, Peking Duck, Blue Marlin, and several other Chinese delicacies at dinner given by Philip G. Last but surely not least was a dinner of traditional Spanish/Filipino food at Zabal's. Urrrp! I miss my bike.
Dinner bell just rung. See ya!
Most of the guys remembered Dylan from '03 and asked how he was doing. I passed on news of all. Thanks to Philip Garcia and Louie Zabaljauregui who hosted me/us at sumptuous meals.
In fact, about all we did was socialize and eat for four days. Lechon at the Hollero's. They are Is' sister, Maryanne's family. Traditional breakfast at Millie's. Great luncheon given by Lope & Maricor, Peking Duck, Blue Marlin, and several other Chinese delicacies at dinner given by Philip G. Last but surely not least was a dinner of traditional Spanish/Filipino food at Zabal's. Urrrp! I miss my bike.
Dinner bell just rung. See ya!
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