I just bought a vanilla soft-serve waffle cone for 10 pesos...
That's twenty cents.
waffle cone...
20 cents.
soft serve in my belly...
2 dimes.
less than a quarter...
4 nickles.
In my belly...
Philippines 1, America 0.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Manila - The clothing I brought
Clothing I brought:
- 8 white undershirts
- 10 pair socks
- 10 boxers
- 1 pajama bottom
- 3 shorts (2 workout, 1 swim)
- 3 pair jeans
- 3 pair pants (for work)
- 5 pair shoes (3 for work, 1 workout, 1 dance)
- 2 light jackets
- 5 t-shirts (2 sleeveless)
- 6 polo's (5 for work)
I'm gonna pat myself on the back for a second here - I'm a pretty darn good packer. I typically even over-pack for dance events because that's how I roll. But for work stuff I'm typically on point. And, for the most part, I was pretty good about this stuff. My under-scibby's are well covered and the pants situation is great. Heck, even the shoe choices were clutch and appropriate. Also I haven't really even been outside too much (and the weather is consistent) so the jackets were just-in-cases.
Now, let me call attention to the other items.
Of the 5 t-shirts, 2 are sleeveless workout shirts. One a quicksilver black shirt I stole from a fraternity brother, the other a blue cut-up Delt (my fraternity) shirt with a Southern Cross (constellation) and quote "Southern by nature, Delt by the grace of god" on the back. I know what you're thinking and no you can't have it. Of the 3 other "normal" t-shirts I brought for every other situation besides working out, one is a grey Delt shirt with the Busch Light mountains on the back and a stupid quote (I love this shirt, I own 4 of them), one is a Carlson Brewery shirt I got in Australia that has paint on it, and the last is bright orange that says "Florida" on it.
I can't tell you how ridiculous and inappropriate these choices seem in hindsight.
I mean, workout ones, fine. However this weekend when I actually got the opportunity to walk around with a t-shirt on, I did a triple take my choices and laughed. Needless to say, I wore the Delt Busch Light one cause it was the most normal. Carlson got worn the next day. Mr. Florida is still folded nicely in the drawer. We'll wait to break him out at the beach I think.
Aside: did you know droor is not a proper word? I didn't.
Now, the last item I honestly thought I was good on. I mean, I pretty much only wear short-sleeved polo's to work at Best Buy (yes, even in winter in Minnieapolis) because 1) they are business casual enough for me, 2) I'm cheap and don't wanna dry-clean clothes and 3) I'm lazy so I don't wanna iron clothes. Polo's are perfect. I thought this choice of work wear was flawless. So, what prey tell, did I get told today at work?
No short sleeves at work.
Dammit.
- 8 white undershirts
- 10 pair socks
- 10 boxers
- 1 pajama bottom
- 3 shorts (2 workout, 1 swim)
- 3 pair jeans
- 3 pair pants (for work)
- 5 pair shoes (3 for work, 1 workout, 1 dance)
- 2 light jackets
- 5 t-shirts (2 sleeveless)
- 6 polo's (5 for work)
I'm gonna pat myself on the back for a second here - I'm a pretty darn good packer. I typically even over-pack for dance events because that's how I roll. But for work stuff I'm typically on point. And, for the most part, I was pretty good about this stuff. My under-scibby's are well covered and the pants situation is great. Heck, even the shoe choices were clutch and appropriate. Also I haven't really even been outside too much (and the weather is consistent) so the jackets were just-in-cases.
Now, let me call attention to the other items.
Of the 5 t-shirts, 2 are sleeveless workout shirts. One a quicksilver black shirt I stole from a fraternity brother, the other a blue cut-up Delt (my fraternity) shirt with a Southern Cross (constellation) and quote "Southern by nature, Delt by the grace of god" on the back. I know what you're thinking and no you can't have it. Of the 3 other "normal" t-shirts I brought for every other situation besides working out, one is a grey Delt shirt with the Busch Light mountains on the back and a stupid quote (I love this shirt, I own 4 of them), one is a Carlson Brewery shirt I got in Australia that has paint on it, and the last is bright orange that says "Florida" on it.
I can't tell you how ridiculous and inappropriate these choices seem in hindsight.
I mean, workout ones, fine. However this weekend when I actually got the opportunity to walk around with a t-shirt on, I did a triple take my choices and laughed. Needless to say, I wore the Delt Busch Light one cause it was the most normal. Carlson got worn the next day. Mr. Florida is still folded nicely in the drawer. We'll wait to break him out at the beach I think.
Aside: did you know droor is not a proper word? I didn't.
Now, the last item I honestly thought I was good on. I mean, I pretty much only wear short-sleeved polo's to work at Best Buy (yes, even in winter in Minnieapolis) because 1) they are business casual enough for me, 2) I'm cheap and don't wanna dry-clean clothes and 3) I'm lazy so I don't wanna iron clothes. Polo's are perfect. I thought this choice of work wear was flawless. So, what prey tell, did I get told today at work?
No short sleeves at work.
Dammit.
Manila - Wednesday, February 11th - 8 things I noticed today
1) I was beginning to think that Manila was permanently covered in clouds - not today.
2) Smog gets worse on cloudless days.
3) The "warehousing area" I wrote about encountered on my drive to work is actually the back-end of this big mall called Robinsons. Should have picked up on this earlier because I walked through the mall my first day of work (yes, to get Chinese food though it wasn't my choice).
4) All the people riding motorbikes here wear helmets
5) The "highway" I mention in my previous posts is called the EDSA. I should have picked up on this too - it's the major thoroughfare through Manila.
6) Besides the type of buses, jeepneys, and size of the trucks, the car situation here is pretty American-normal.
7) My diet while here has been about 75% cereal.
8) I didn't pack appropriately (see next post).
2) Smog gets worse on cloudless days.
3) The "warehousing area" I wrote about encountered on my drive to work is actually the back-end of this big mall called Robinsons. Should have picked up on this earlier because I walked through the mall my first day of work (yes, to get Chinese food though it wasn't my choice).
4) All the people riding motorbikes here wear helmets
5) The "highway" I mention in my previous posts is called the EDSA. I should have picked up on this too - it's the major thoroughfare through Manila.
6) Besides the type of buses, jeepneys, and size of the trucks, the car situation here is pretty American-normal.
7) My diet while here has been about 75% cereal.
8) I didn't pack appropriately (see next post).
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Manila - Day 2 - The smoggy city (part 2)
I don't have the words yet to properly convey going for car ride on the roads here. I'm probably gonna dedicate a whole darn post to it sooner or later, but, for now, you'll just have to be satisfied with my earlier analogy of a roller coaster. However, pretend that you are vaguely afraid of heights and the roller coaster you are on has been known to derail. Just think about it.
So, the rest of my first impressions of Manila.
Lots and lots of large advertisement signs. These things are posted on everything from skyscrapers to overpasses to cargo containers stacked up high. I can't really read what most of them say, but the titles are readable enough. I'll post some of the more interesting ones one of these days.
Lots of tree tops. Remember that whole paragraph on the on-ramp? After the smog I noticed tree tops. Noticed them again this morning. I haven't seen the roots of many of these trees, but they gotta exist. A bunch of them are palm trees too, but it definitely does not make you feel tropical. I mean, the weather is warm and you're looking at palm trees, but it doesn't feel like "hey, I'm in Florida" or "hey, I'm at the beach." It's more like "hey, how the hell do those survive?"
Oh yeah, while writing the next paragraph you are about to read, I realized I didn't quite describe the highway here well enough. Do not think American highways. Yes there are some on-ramps, yes there are some off-ramps, yes there are overpasses, yes it is a divided highway. However, there are also roads that intersect. It's a T-intersection with the highway being the top-guy...meaning the roads dead-end (or start) from the highway as you can't get across it without an overpass. There are no lights at these intersections either...you just slow down and turn off the highway. Don't get me wrong, there are parts that feel like genuine highway, but it turns into more of a road at points. So just keep that in mind.
The directions to get my place of work are fairly straightforward. Drive up 3 flights of basement parking. Take left out of main hotel thoroughfare. Take right on main Ayala Center road. Take immediate left on-ramp to the main highway (I still don't know what it's called). Take this highway for about 3 miles (make sure to change lanes at least 52 times). Take right into what seems like a back-entrance to warehousing area, but the warehouses are really tall buildings. Veer left at construction site of huge dirty apartment refurbishment. Take left halfway up hill permanently covered in water. Welcome to my office building.
On that 3 mile stretch, you pass over a river that, quite frankly, looks like a dirty version of the Willy Wonka chocolate river. I mean, don't picture edible grass on the sides, but the dark brown water is pretty spot-on. Kinda disgusting but America has some pretty nasty rivers going through cities too.
I also remember reading a sign on this building to the right that said "female only housing available." The wording is probably off but that was the gist. Don't really know what to think of that. In addition, that sign as well as all the signs you see near the road are so caked in dirt and grit that the original coloring is probably impossible to see or forever altered. Just adds to the feeling.
Anyways, I'll stop typing random stuff. Just wanted you to get a feeling of the one-part confusion, one-part curiosity, one-part different, and one-part overload it was that first morning.
I won't bore you with work stuff as I probably shouldn't write about it and it also wouldn't make much sense regardless. The one thing I will say is that my coworkers are very interesting and nice people. I do hope to become friends with them over the next couple of weeks.
One thing I will tell you that I learned on my first day at work was that security is a big thing in Manila. I hadn't really digested that fact until a day or two later, but there are security guards everywhere. I'll write about it one of these days, but you should know that it definitely stuck out in my mind that first day though I didn't realize it.
I also ate Chinese for lunch. Go figure.
Oh yeah, I also got a sim card for a phone a coworker leant me. It's one of those old Nikia's. It's pretty sweet. Anyways, I didn't ativate it until the end of the day to contact my taxi driver. This detail is pretty crucial in the story to follow.
So, here's the deal with my taxi service here. The hotel provides car service in the mornings for me during the weekdays. You schedule this with the front desk daily. Work uses Hertz to provide a taxi service to get me home each day. This is the same people that picked me up from the hotel...as in the same guy. His name is Elviro.
So when Elviro dropped me off the night before from the airport I told him to pick me up at 6pm from work. I thought this was pretty descriptive. This is my first introduction to the language barrier between non-corporate Phillipino's and the Phillipino culture of just smiling and nodding.
So, like I said, after work I activated my phone to contact my taxi guy - Elviro. Well, I failed to mention that I activated my phone only after standing downstairs in the pickup area for about 30 minutes. So I called him and he's like "I'm on the 6th floor. Ascott. I'm waiting." He sounded like he was flustered and in a rush. Well, it makes sense. He didn't know what room I was in and he didn't have my phone number. Yup, that's right, he's at the Ascott.
Guess I should have been just a bit more specific about where to pick me up.
So we cleared up that minor oversight. Sadly, even though the hotel is 3 miles away, traffic being what it is meant waiting for 30 minutes. Ah well, what're you gonna do? Internet that's what.
I did end up getting back to the hotel fine, it was just kinda funny.
I was pretty exhausted after my first day. Remember I had only gotten about 3 hours of sleep in a bed in the past 40 hours. However, I made myself go to the grocery store and work out. I will be dedicating a whole post to the grocery store because there's nothing like a different culture's grocery store. But I will list out what I purchased:
- 2 packets of instant-noodles
- 1 1.5L bottle of Coke Light.
- 1 box of Oatmeal squares cereal
- 1 box the flakey, clustery, dried-fruity kind of cereal
- 1 1L box of Vanila Soy milk (local of course, I'm in Asia you know)
- 1 packet of dried Mango
- 4 things of yogurt
- 2 1L bottles of water
- 1 case of San Miguel Light beer
Not really that glorious, but it did remind me of what I typically buy at any given Lindy Hop dance event (minus the dried mango of course, though I totally would if we had it). Hard to break habits I guess.
All of this was purchased at this place called SM. SM is a massive department store. It's 4 floors (5 if you count the food court) with a Super Market on the bottom floor. Yup, that's right, SM is actually short for Super Market. Interesting.
As I walked out the door of the department store (note, also on the bottom floor was a clothing section of the department store, so you had to walk through it), I realized I looked pretty funny. They put everything in these bright yellow plastic bags, not that this made me look unique or funny as many others had them, it's just that I'm the only one with 4 fairly heavy bags of them in my left hand and a case of beer in my right. Remember I'm also white, with a beard, and taller than the majority of the people. This appearance immediately called over a child who begged for money. Even though I commented on how sad this was, I've still never been one to give money to someone on the street. The kid was insistent, but I'm pretty stubborn.
I tell you this because it was a first for me but a fact of life for the people here. Countries like Manila have pretty huge social gaps and I can easily see why Americans are considered rich and targets for theft. If you're American and you're over here, you can afford losing some money, especially relative to the amount of money that can make a difference to some of the "street urchins."
Anyways, the walk from SM to my hotel is about 1 block (though my arm did tire a bit from holding the beer). I went and worked out then had a bowl of cereal for dinner. I actually worked a bit more but man I was tired.
Time - 11pm. I went to bed.
So, the rest of my first impressions of Manila.
Lots and lots of large advertisement signs. These things are posted on everything from skyscrapers to overpasses to cargo containers stacked up high. I can't really read what most of them say, but the titles are readable enough. I'll post some of the more interesting ones one of these days.
Lots of tree tops. Remember that whole paragraph on the on-ramp? After the smog I noticed tree tops. Noticed them again this morning. I haven't seen the roots of many of these trees, but they gotta exist. A bunch of them are palm trees too, but it definitely does not make you feel tropical. I mean, the weather is warm and you're looking at palm trees, but it doesn't feel like "hey, I'm in Florida" or "hey, I'm at the beach." It's more like "hey, how the hell do those survive?"
Oh yeah, while writing the next paragraph you are about to read, I realized I didn't quite describe the highway here well enough. Do not think American highways. Yes there are some on-ramps, yes there are some off-ramps, yes there are overpasses, yes it is a divided highway. However, there are also roads that intersect. It's a T-intersection with the highway being the top-guy...meaning the roads dead-end (or start) from the highway as you can't get across it without an overpass. There are no lights at these intersections either...you just slow down and turn off the highway. Don't get me wrong, there are parts that feel like genuine highway, but it turns into more of a road at points. So just keep that in mind.
The directions to get my place of work are fairly straightforward. Drive up 3 flights of basement parking. Take left out of main hotel thoroughfare. Take right on main Ayala Center road. Take immediate left on-ramp to the main highway (I still don't know what it's called). Take this highway for about 3 miles (make sure to change lanes at least 52 times). Take right into what seems like a back-entrance to warehousing area, but the warehouses are really tall buildings. Veer left at construction site of huge dirty apartment refurbishment. Take left halfway up hill permanently covered in water. Welcome to my office building.
On that 3 mile stretch, you pass over a river that, quite frankly, looks like a dirty version of the Willy Wonka chocolate river. I mean, don't picture edible grass on the sides, but the dark brown water is pretty spot-on. Kinda disgusting but America has some pretty nasty rivers going through cities too.
I also remember reading a sign on this building to the right that said "female only housing available." The wording is probably off but that was the gist. Don't really know what to think of that. In addition, that sign as well as all the signs you see near the road are so caked in dirt and grit that the original coloring is probably impossible to see or forever altered. Just adds to the feeling.
Anyways, I'll stop typing random stuff. Just wanted you to get a feeling of the one-part confusion, one-part curiosity, one-part different, and one-part overload it was that first morning.
I won't bore you with work stuff as I probably shouldn't write about it and it also wouldn't make much sense regardless. The one thing I will say is that my coworkers are very interesting and nice people. I do hope to become friends with them over the next couple of weeks.
One thing I will tell you that I learned on my first day at work was that security is a big thing in Manila. I hadn't really digested that fact until a day or two later, but there are security guards everywhere. I'll write about it one of these days, but you should know that it definitely stuck out in my mind that first day though I didn't realize it.
I also ate Chinese for lunch. Go figure.
Oh yeah, I also got a sim card for a phone a coworker leant me. It's one of those old Nikia's. It's pretty sweet. Anyways, I didn't ativate it until the end of the day to contact my taxi driver. This detail is pretty crucial in the story to follow.
So, here's the deal with my taxi service here. The hotel provides car service in the mornings for me during the weekdays. You schedule this with the front desk daily. Work uses Hertz to provide a taxi service to get me home each day. This is the same people that picked me up from the hotel...as in the same guy. His name is Elviro.
So when Elviro dropped me off the night before from the airport I told him to pick me up at 6pm from work. I thought this was pretty descriptive. This is my first introduction to the language barrier between non-corporate Phillipino's and the Phillipino culture of just smiling and nodding.
So, like I said, after work I activated my phone to contact my taxi guy - Elviro. Well, I failed to mention that I activated my phone only after standing downstairs in the pickup area for about 30 minutes. So I called him and he's like "I'm on the 6th floor. Ascott. I'm waiting." He sounded like he was flustered and in a rush. Well, it makes sense. He didn't know what room I was in and he didn't have my phone number. Yup, that's right, he's at the Ascott.
Guess I should have been just a bit more specific about where to pick me up.
So we cleared up that minor oversight. Sadly, even though the hotel is 3 miles away, traffic being what it is meant waiting for 30 minutes. Ah well, what're you gonna do? Internet that's what.
I did end up getting back to the hotel fine, it was just kinda funny.
I was pretty exhausted after my first day. Remember I had only gotten about 3 hours of sleep in a bed in the past 40 hours. However, I made myself go to the grocery store and work out. I will be dedicating a whole post to the grocery store because there's nothing like a different culture's grocery store. But I will list out what I purchased:
- 2 packets of instant-noodles
- 1 1.5L bottle of Coke Light.
- 1 box of Oatmeal squares cereal
- 1 box the flakey, clustery, dried-fruity kind of cereal
- 1 1L box of Vanila Soy milk (local of course, I'm in Asia you know)
- 1 packet of dried Mango
- 4 things of yogurt
- 2 1L bottles of water
- 1 case of San Miguel Light beer
Not really that glorious, but it did remind me of what I typically buy at any given Lindy Hop dance event (minus the dried mango of course, though I totally would if we had it). Hard to break habits I guess.
All of this was purchased at this place called SM. SM is a massive department store. It's 4 floors (5 if you count the food court) with a Super Market on the bottom floor. Yup, that's right, SM is actually short for Super Market. Interesting.
As I walked out the door of the department store (note, also on the bottom floor was a clothing section of the department store, so you had to walk through it), I realized I looked pretty funny. They put everything in these bright yellow plastic bags, not that this made me look unique or funny as many others had them, it's just that I'm the only one with 4 fairly heavy bags of them in my left hand and a case of beer in my right. Remember I'm also white, with a beard, and taller than the majority of the people. This appearance immediately called over a child who begged for money. Even though I commented on how sad this was, I've still never been one to give money to someone on the street. The kid was insistent, but I'm pretty stubborn.
I tell you this because it was a first for me but a fact of life for the people here. Countries like Manila have pretty huge social gaps and I can easily see why Americans are considered rich and targets for theft. If you're American and you're over here, you can afford losing some money, especially relative to the amount of money that can make a difference to some of the "street urchins."
Anyways, the walk from SM to my hotel is about 1 block (though my arm did tire a bit from holding the beer). I went and worked out then had a bowl of cereal for dinner. I actually worked a bit more but man I was tired.
Time - 11pm. I went to bed.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Manila - Day 2 - The smoggy city (part 1)
So, I think I left Day 1 off with the word "smog." I'll get to that in a minute.
My first morning in Manila was experienced from the wrong side. As in I arrived a bit past midnight and did my normal unpacking thing. Took a bit but I have some sweet closet space an extremely tiny chesser drawer, but the room was awesome. Man I was thirsty so I walked over to the sink and drank from the faucet.
Kidding.
There's a reason I got a Typhoid shot, and it wasn't so that I could drink the water. It was in case I was an idiot and exposed myself to unfiltered liquid over hear. Well, I look on the handy-dandy room service list and boom - water. Yay. A 1 liter water bottle was only 30 Pesos. Sweet. Oh wait, what's this, a 5 gallon jug of water for 140 P?!?! I'm there.
Now, you as an intelligent reader say to yourself, "Jeez, 5 gallons? Isn't that the size of a water cooler?" I respond to your internal logic saying "Of course it is. It's one of those huge water jugs that sit on this dispenser machine found in most work break areas. Who wouldn't know that?" Well, me apparently.
So the dude shows up with jug and I kinda laugh. How the hell am I supposed to drink out of it? So many funny scenarios went through my head about how to make this work, but sadly/luckily the guy said something along the lines of "oh, you don't have a dispenser?" loosely translated as "wow, you're a stupid American." So I proceed to rent a water dispenser at 500P per month - that's only about 10 bucks. Deal.
So now I have my very own water cooler. It's there right now as type. It's there as you read this. Think about it. Do you have your own water dispenser? I didn't think so.
Well, after this funny incident I get on the internet, email the fam that I'm alive, check work stuff, read my book. Next thing I know it's 4am. Crap, I gotta get up for work in 3 hours. I hate jet lag.
So, I wake up to lucid dreams of a phone ringing. Not dreams apparently, actual phone ringing. Guess I set up a wake-up call. Time - 7:00am. Ugh. I trim the beard, take a shower, iron my wrinkly polo, frock myself, and head on down to Mr. Breakfast Buffet. Mmmmm.
Did I mention The Ascott is awesome? Well, their breakfast is killer. I'll work from left to right here: 8 kinds of cereal, 4 kinds of nuts, 8 kinds of dried fruit, crunchy peanut butter, choco-hazel-nut spread, milk, fresh fruit, yogurt, all kinds of spreads and spices, honey, syrup, sandwich meat, sandwich fish, cheeses, lasagna, bacon, eggs, oatmeal, congee, rice, french toast/pancakes, potatoes, orange/mango/apple/cranberry/?other? juice, bagels, soft pretzel, english muffins on steroids, 10 kinds of breads, 5 kinds of rolls, 4 kinds of pastries, muffins, and an omlette station.
Yes, they had lasagna.
If you've witnessed me walk into my parents kitchen after it's been a while, you know that I make "the rounds." Open the fridge, check out the food droors, the pantry - you know, scope the place out. I've so far done this exact routine every morning at Mr. Buffet. It's fun, rewarding, and filling.
Time - 8am. Brush teeth (using water from my water cooler of course), check email, sit for a sec. It's time for my first foray into the city. Let's do this.
The hotel provides a car service every morning for me so I went down to B3 and hopped into the car. The driver is dressed up in a white and black security-like uniform. No gun, just the uniform. Reminded me of The Transporter except not British, no tie, and no BMW. However, the car was indeed nice as was the driver.
We wheel out and the fun begins.
So there is this highway interchange in Atlanta called Spaghetti Junction. It's where I-85 and I-285 cross paths. The "spaghetti" is due to the crazy number of elevated pieces of concrete required to give us humans all the choices we'd ever want. I mean, mathematically, you should only need 8 different ramps right? Well, that's only if you plan things out and if you've been to Atlanta you know city planning isn't the best. I mean, Sherman burned the place down and we couldn't get it right the second time. Ah well.
The most prominent ramp of Spaghetti Junction is the one from I-285 East to I-85 North that soars over all the rest. Call it the uber-ramp. (I'd recommend trying it sometime if it didn't mean sitting in traffic for about 5 days.) Needless to say, the view from the top of this ramp is pretty sweet as long as you like looking at traffic the vast amount of absent green space. Well, imagine driving up a similar ramp, except not as high but it doesn't matter because it's relatively flat around you. The road curves to left and you're looking at city-sprawl that goes off in all directions. As your car reaches the apex of the ramp, your eyes batter your brain with images that can only be described as imagined reality but the first thing your mind registers isn't large amount of busses, not the vast traffic jam waiting to greet you, not the large posters pasted on dirty skyscrapers, not even the fact that there isn't any blue in the sky.
All you notice is the smog.
I'm not saying it's the worst in the world, it's just the worst I've personally seen. Icky. Well, we're driving straight towards it. Where was I? Oh yeah, we wheel out and the fun begins.
So I talked briefly about my drive from the airport and some of the quirks of driving in Manila. Well, here are some more:
5) There are a lot of buses. They don't mind getting in your business. People hang out of the doors too.
6) Either left-turn signals don't work or nobody has left arms.
7) There are no speed limit signs. This may lead one to believe you can drive as fast as you want, but this would be an incorrect assumption. I mean, I typically want to drive faster than 30mph, however even when there isn't a traffic jam, people only go about 20-30mph. Don't ask me why, I don't know.
8) The exit ramps don't have side-walks, but the highways certainly do.
Well, I think I'll leave off here for now. More to come on day 2, but I'm done typing.
My first morning in Manila was experienced from the wrong side. As in I arrived a bit past midnight and did my normal unpacking thing. Took a bit but I have some sweet closet space an extremely tiny chesser drawer, but the room was awesome. Man I was thirsty so I walked over to the sink and drank from the faucet.
Kidding.
There's a reason I got a Typhoid shot, and it wasn't so that I could drink the water. It was in case I was an idiot and exposed myself to unfiltered liquid over hear. Well, I look on the handy-dandy room service list and boom - water. Yay. A 1 liter water bottle was only 30 Pesos. Sweet. Oh wait, what's this, a 5 gallon jug of water for 140 P?!?! I'm there.
Now, you as an intelligent reader say to yourself, "Jeez, 5 gallons? Isn't that the size of a water cooler?" I respond to your internal logic saying "Of course it is. It's one of those huge water jugs that sit on this dispenser machine found in most work break areas. Who wouldn't know that?" Well, me apparently.
So the dude shows up with jug and I kinda laugh. How the hell am I supposed to drink out of it? So many funny scenarios went through my head about how to make this work, but sadly/luckily the guy said something along the lines of "oh, you don't have a dispenser?" loosely translated as "wow, you're a stupid American." So I proceed to rent a water dispenser at 500P per month - that's only about 10 bucks. Deal.
So now I have my very own water cooler. It's there right now as type. It's there as you read this. Think about it. Do you have your own water dispenser? I didn't think so.
Well, after this funny incident I get on the internet, email the fam that I'm alive, check work stuff, read my book. Next thing I know it's 4am. Crap, I gotta get up for work in 3 hours. I hate jet lag.
So, I wake up to lucid dreams of a phone ringing. Not dreams apparently, actual phone ringing. Guess I set up a wake-up call. Time - 7:00am. Ugh. I trim the beard, take a shower, iron my wrinkly polo, frock myself, and head on down to Mr. Breakfast Buffet. Mmmmm.
Did I mention The Ascott is awesome? Well, their breakfast is killer. I'll work from left to right here: 8 kinds of cereal, 4 kinds of nuts, 8 kinds of dried fruit, crunchy peanut butter, choco-hazel-nut spread, milk, fresh fruit, yogurt, all kinds of spreads and spices, honey, syrup, sandwich meat, sandwich fish, cheeses, lasagna, bacon, eggs, oatmeal, congee, rice, french toast/pancakes, potatoes, orange/mango/apple/cranberry/?other? juice, bagels, soft pretzel, english muffins on steroids, 10 kinds of breads, 5 kinds of rolls, 4 kinds of pastries, muffins, and an omlette station.
Yes, they had lasagna.
If you've witnessed me walk into my parents kitchen after it's been a while, you know that I make "the rounds." Open the fridge, check out the food droors, the pantry - you know, scope the place out. I've so far done this exact routine every morning at Mr. Buffet. It's fun, rewarding, and filling.
Time - 8am. Brush teeth (using water from my water cooler of course), check email, sit for a sec. It's time for my first foray into the city. Let's do this.
The hotel provides a car service every morning for me so I went down to B3 and hopped into the car. The driver is dressed up in a white and black security-like uniform. No gun, just the uniform. Reminded me of The Transporter except not British, no tie, and no BMW. However, the car was indeed nice as was the driver.
We wheel out and the fun begins.
So there is this highway interchange in Atlanta called Spaghetti Junction. It's where I-85 and I-285 cross paths. The "spaghetti" is due to the crazy number of elevated pieces of concrete required to give us humans all the choices we'd ever want. I mean, mathematically, you should only need 8 different ramps right? Well, that's only if you plan things out and if you've been to Atlanta you know city planning isn't the best. I mean, Sherman burned the place down and we couldn't get it right the second time. Ah well.
The most prominent ramp of Spaghetti Junction is the one from I-285 East to I-85 North that soars over all the rest. Call it the uber-ramp. (I'd recommend trying it sometime if it didn't mean sitting in traffic for about 5 days.) Needless to say, the view from the top of this ramp is pretty sweet as long as you like looking at traffic the vast amount of absent green space. Well, imagine driving up a similar ramp, except not as high but it doesn't matter because it's relatively flat around you. The road curves to left and you're looking at city-sprawl that goes off in all directions. As your car reaches the apex of the ramp, your eyes batter your brain with images that can only be described as imagined reality but the first thing your mind registers isn't large amount of busses, not the vast traffic jam waiting to greet you, not the large posters pasted on dirty skyscrapers, not even the fact that there isn't any blue in the sky.
All you notice is the smog.
I'm not saying it's the worst in the world, it's just the worst I've personally seen. Icky. Well, we're driving straight towards it. Where was I? Oh yeah, we wheel out and the fun begins.
So I talked briefly about my drive from the airport and some of the quirks of driving in Manila. Well, here are some more:
5) There are a lot of buses. They don't mind getting in your business. People hang out of the doors too.
6) Either left-turn signals don't work or nobody has left arms.
7) There are no speed limit signs. This may lead one to believe you can drive as fast as you want, but this would be an incorrect assumption. I mean, I typically want to drive faster than 30mph, however even when there isn't a traffic jam, people only go about 20-30mph. Don't ask me why, I don't know.
8) The exit ramps don't have side-walks, but the highways certainly do.
Well, I think I'll leave off here for now. More to come on day 2, but I'm done typing.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Manila - Day 0 - A day of bipolar movement
I'm staying at The Ascott in Makati. This place is awesome. It's basically a corporate apartment with all the fixin's of a 5-star hotel. Kitchen - check, room cleaning - check, breakfast - check, workout facility - check, pool - check, HBO - check. I mean this place is magically. Granted, it costs twice as much as the corporate apartment I stay at in Minneapolis, but it's totally worth it because it actually costs me the same - zero.
Did I mention my job tends to have some perks? Well, it does. Though it is unfortunate I had to travel almost exactly half-way around the world over 24 hours to get here. About that...
So I realized my first post told nothing of how I got to the Philippines. There was nothing spectacular or particularly crazy that happened (which is why I probably just skipped it in my head), but maybe writing about it will be interesting. Let's see.
So I flew Northwest over here. 1) It was the cheapest ticket out there, 2) I greedy and wanted 20,000 SkyMiles in one month :) The only negative about that is that Northwest does not have a hub in Atlanta and Northwest does not fly directly to Manila from the States...equals three legs of the trip. Atlanta to Detroit to Nagoya (Japan) to Manila. Suweet.
I got upgraded on the bad boy to Detroit so that's always a nice way to start the trip mentally. Mom and Dad (love you guys) dropped me off nice and early for my noon flight so I had time to do the normal old airport routine. Sit in lounge, use internet, debate on whether or not to get a drink. Well, you all know me, that debate was a quick one.
My flight was in Concourse D and I can never remember what lounges are there so I just went to the Crowne Room in A. As my flight time approached, I mosied on over to D and noticed that the plane wasn't even there. This was not awesome because I always show up right when they should be boarding the special people (aka - me), I've gotten pretty good at timing these things. Well, luckily, there was a President's Club right next to the gate so I hopped in there to sit in a comfy seat. I looked at my ticket and realized that my transfer in Detroit was only an hour...and they board international flights an hour early. Hmmm...flight delayed equals not fun transfer. Ah well, first class will sooth my worries.
Needless to say, a couple of Beamers later we landed in Detroit a bit late but it didn't matter, the flight to Nagoya was packed and they hadn't started boarding so nothing to worry about. Only crappy thing was that I couldn't get there early to bug them about being upgraded. Coach it is. Dammit. 13 hours. Dammit.
I called my best friend Tom from the gate and chatted a bit about my trip. He had emailed me about seing this japanimation movie coming out in theatres in the States (Sword of the Stranger) on Feb 5th not knowing I was flying to where they made the thing. It was good to chat as our lives are typically hectic and, for me, the first thing to be sacraficed is all vocal communication to the outside world. Found out a mutual friend was over on this side o the world too...which reminds me I should email him.
An aside - ever noticed how distances seem shorter when you're not in your home country? For example, when you're in Europe, say Barcelona, Spain, and you have a friend visiting Amsterdam. You're like "holy crap, I'm so there too." That's nearly 1,000 miles (about 1,500 kilometers). If I have a friend from England and he's gonna be in New York City (only about 900 miles), I'm typically like "Dude, I'd totally show up but I got this thing called 'not going there' I need to catch up on." Same thing here - I'm in Manila and a friend might be in another Asian country. It's probably thousands of miles away, but hey, I'm over here right? Just a bit ridiculous.
So I board the plane in normal-person mode and await my fate. Don't you hate it when you get a big person in the seat in front of you that is physically capable of making the seat actually recline? I'm talking past the normal 2cm's here. It sucks. I like sleeping on my little table. No dice here. Ugh. At least it's an international flight, coach gets free alcohol too right?
Nope. Dammit. Shouldn't have had those Beamers. Lightish hangover after you stop drinking = me going to bed. So, against a friend's warning to not sleep the first part of the 13 hour flight, I whip out my handy dandy neck-pillow, recline my 2cm's, and try to ignore everything.
I do a decent job, though I do have vague images of Richard Gere and Diane Lane getting it on and some movie with Ice Cube and a football. I wake up for the food and wish I had brought some bagels.
Aside - bagels here are not bagels. They are airy forms of dough that are almost impossible to cut in half. It's sad.
I think the highlight of my flight was getting up to stretch and exchanging a couple words with a random Asian dude next to the bathroom. I'm really not a talker on plane flights, I like to just do my own thing and read or watch Lindy Hop clips. But it was quite nice talking "coach-shop" with a random dude. "Ow my feet hurt." "Me too." Ya know, cool stuff like that.
We land in Japan, I thank who it is I thank in my head, and I get off that damn plane.
I was wearing a red Polo on the plane and the blanket they gave us was blue. Hence I have blue crap all over my shirt. Annoying but it gave me something to do as I waited in a ridiculous security line to get to my next gate. However, I found a Star Alliance lounge there that let me in.
Yay special lounges. If you have ever been in a lounge in America - Crowne Room, President's Club, World Club, USO club, etc. - they pale in comparison to Asian lounges. I mean, they had complimentary massages, like 10 different types of snacks, a beer dispenser that auto-tilted your glass to reduce foam. Needless to say, I partook in the goodies. The only negative part was that all the plugs were Japanese and I didn't bring a converter.
Yes Mom, I admit it, I should have brought the converter.
So, as my batteries were all dead from coding on the plan and watching Lindy clips, no nerdiness in the airport. I went to my gate and boom - upgrade.
Yay.
The flight from Nagoya, Japan, to Manila is about 3-4 hours. World Business Class was awesome. The seat felt like it was from the future and I got to watch a movie (Traitor) and sit bit and read about how much I will never understand Tagalog (Philipino dialect). The only bad part was that the food was better in Coach. Ironic, huh?
Anywho, it was a nice flight. Oh yeah! I was in the first row. On a huge 747, this means you are literally in the nose of the plane because the pilot flies up on the second floor. Awesome! Made me think of that movie Flight Plan with Jodie Foster. The nose of the plane had just a bit to do with the plot.
My main memory from seeing Manila from the air was "Wow, lots of lights. Didn't see that coming. Plus they are blueish-orange for some reason."
First thing I noticed when I got off the plane was...
Did I mention my job tends to have some perks? Well, it does. Though it is unfortunate I had to travel almost exactly half-way around the world over 24 hours to get here. About that...
So I realized my first post told nothing of how I got to the Philippines. There was nothing spectacular or particularly crazy that happened (which is why I probably just skipped it in my head), but maybe writing about it will be interesting. Let's see.
So I flew Northwest over here. 1) It was the cheapest ticket out there, 2) I greedy and wanted 20,000 SkyMiles in one month :) The only negative about that is that Northwest does not have a hub in Atlanta and Northwest does not fly directly to Manila from the States...equals three legs of the trip. Atlanta to Detroit to Nagoya (Japan) to Manila. Suweet.
I got upgraded on the bad boy to Detroit so that's always a nice way to start the trip mentally. Mom and Dad (love you guys) dropped me off nice and early for my noon flight so I had time to do the normal old airport routine. Sit in lounge, use internet, debate on whether or not to get a drink. Well, you all know me, that debate was a quick one.
My flight was in Concourse D and I can never remember what lounges are there so I just went to the Crowne Room in A. As my flight time approached, I mosied on over to D and noticed that the plane wasn't even there. This was not awesome because I always show up right when they should be boarding the special people (aka - me), I've gotten pretty good at timing these things. Well, luckily, there was a President's Club right next to the gate so I hopped in there to sit in a comfy seat. I looked at my ticket and realized that my transfer in Detroit was only an hour...and they board international flights an hour early. Hmmm...flight delayed equals not fun transfer. Ah well, first class will sooth my worries.
Needless to say, a couple of Beamers later we landed in Detroit a bit late but it didn't matter, the flight to Nagoya was packed and they hadn't started boarding so nothing to worry about. Only crappy thing was that I couldn't get there early to bug them about being upgraded. Coach it is. Dammit. 13 hours. Dammit.
I called my best friend Tom from the gate and chatted a bit about my trip. He had emailed me about seing this japanimation movie coming out in theatres in the States (Sword of the Stranger) on Feb 5th not knowing I was flying to where they made the thing. It was good to chat as our lives are typically hectic and, for me, the first thing to be sacraficed is all vocal communication to the outside world. Found out a mutual friend was over on this side o the world too...which reminds me I should email him.
An aside - ever noticed how distances seem shorter when you're not in your home country? For example, when you're in Europe, say Barcelona, Spain, and you have a friend visiting Amsterdam. You're like "holy crap, I'm so there too." That's nearly 1,000 miles (about 1,500 kilometers). If I have a friend from England and he's gonna be in New York City (only about 900 miles), I'm typically like "Dude, I'd totally show up but I got this thing called 'not going there' I need to catch up on." Same thing here - I'm in Manila and a friend might be in another Asian country. It's probably thousands of miles away, but hey, I'm over here right? Just a bit ridiculous.
So I board the plane in normal-person mode and await my fate. Don't you hate it when you get a big person in the seat in front of you that is physically capable of making the seat actually recline? I'm talking past the normal 2cm's here. It sucks. I like sleeping on my little table. No dice here. Ugh. At least it's an international flight, coach gets free alcohol too right?
Nope. Dammit. Shouldn't have had those Beamers. Lightish hangover after you stop drinking = me going to bed. So, against a friend's warning to not sleep the first part of the 13 hour flight, I whip out my handy dandy neck-pillow, recline my 2cm's, and try to ignore everything.
I do a decent job, though I do have vague images of Richard Gere and Diane Lane getting it on and some movie with Ice Cube and a football. I wake up for the food and wish I had brought some bagels.
Aside - bagels here are not bagels. They are airy forms of dough that are almost impossible to cut in half. It's sad.
I think the highlight of my flight was getting up to stretch and exchanging a couple words with a random Asian dude next to the bathroom. I'm really not a talker on plane flights, I like to just do my own thing and read or watch Lindy Hop clips. But it was quite nice talking "coach-shop" with a random dude. "Ow my feet hurt." "Me too." Ya know, cool stuff like that.
We land in Japan, I thank who it is I thank in my head, and I get off that damn plane.
I was wearing a red Polo on the plane and the blanket they gave us was blue. Hence I have blue crap all over my shirt. Annoying but it gave me something to do as I waited in a ridiculous security line to get to my next gate. However, I found a Star Alliance lounge there that let me in.
Yay special lounges. If you have ever been in a lounge in America - Crowne Room, President's Club, World Club, USO club, etc. - they pale in comparison to Asian lounges. I mean, they had complimentary massages, like 10 different types of snacks, a beer dispenser that auto-tilted your glass to reduce foam. Needless to say, I partook in the goodies. The only negative part was that all the plugs were Japanese and I didn't bring a converter.
Yes Mom, I admit it, I should have brought the converter.
So, as my batteries were all dead from coding on the plan and watching Lindy clips, no nerdiness in the airport. I went to my gate and boom - upgrade.
Yay.
The flight from Nagoya, Japan, to Manila is about 3-4 hours. World Business Class was awesome. The seat felt like it was from the future and I got to watch a movie (Traitor) and sit bit and read about how much I will never understand Tagalog (Philipino dialect). The only bad part was that the food was better in Coach. Ironic, huh?
Anywho, it was a nice flight. Oh yeah! I was in the first row. On a huge 747, this means you are literally in the nose of the plane because the pilot flies up on the second floor. Awesome! Made me think of that movie Flight Plan with Jodie Foster. The nose of the plane had just a bit to do with the plot.
My main memory from seeing Manila from the air was "Wow, lots of lights. Didn't see that coming. Plus they are blueish-orange for some reason."
First thing I noticed when I got off the plane was...
Manila - Day 1 - I'm here
Wow. Asia. The Philippines. I'm here.
First thing I noticed when I got off the plane was that the airport gate seats looked really uncomfortable. Lame or observant? Surprisingly, things weren't ridiculously Asian as many people (including my brain) said it would be. I mean, my layover in Nagoya, Japan, seemed a bit more foreign. I guess I just really wanted culture-shock right off-the-bat. Well, I guess I wasn't too dissapointed...
Ah, immigration. Here's what I'm talking about. Wait behind the yellow line (a suggestion), hand over documents, say absolutely nothing, you're in. Okay, I did say "February 27th" and the guy said "I can only give you 21 days." Done, I'll take it.
Prior to this moment, I truly disliked baggage claims in America. I mean, technically, they work. But trusting human beings to not be dickheads? Not so much. Why do you have to stand at the lip of baggage belt blocking everyone? Can't you just hang back make a little "active pick-up zone"? Grrrr...I get riled up in Minneapolis every time. Well, I think this is the end my anger in American baggage claims because it just doesn't compare the one in Manila. Holy crap. Jungle Gym. Bags everywhere. People everywhere. Chairs everywhere. Seriously, effing chairs to sit in while you block the people who can actually see their bags. Ridiculous.
I got my bag but needless to say, it was annoying.
Customs was a joke...except it wasn't funny. Hand lady card, walk on by. No questions. Made me feel extremely secure. I'm actually looking forward to standing in some long lines back at ATL before they let me in the country. All I'm asking for is a little "you smuggling in bananas?" or even "did you fill this card out properly?" Nope, just keep on walking.
Oh yeah, just realized, I have yet to actually walk through a door.
So I bee-line it to the hotel shuttle area and boom, (yes, the first door) and "Mr. Thigpen?" I had't said a word. I guess being the only white dude with a beard in this country makes me stand out just a tad. I hop in my pre-arranged Hertz taxi and off we go. I'm pretty excited because I've heard and read so much about the crazy driving in Manila. Hands in the air, I'm ready for the rollercoaster.
To let you in on the whole "crazy driving in Manila" thing, I'll break it down a bit based purely on the observations of this first drive. (Don't worry, the best is yet to come as I'm writing this days after this experience...true Manila traffic is insane)
1) Lines are more of a suggestion. Well, that's not quite true...they're more like another form of dirt on the road. Step 1 is to ignore them and trust that everyone else is doing the same.
2) Off-roading is totally legit. Especially in order to get on a highway - I'm serious.
3) Stop lights exist, but they are basically there for illumination. Do not trust a green, do not trust a red. Just keep driving.
4) Cars have the right-of-way, or more specifically buses cause they can crush - pedestrians beware.
The only low-point of my first hour in the Philippines was seeing my first "street-urchins". They were on the off-ramp to Ayala (the exit and area where my hotel is). There were all these children sitting in this elevated median in the middle of a big highway off-ramp with cars everywhere. I mean, these kids were anywhere from 5 to 15. Note that it is midnight and they are out-and-about. Twas sad.
Anywho, I was only able to notice the children because we this was the first stop light the driver stopped at. Well, considering it is now technically "day 2" of my trip, I will leave you with this parting word: smog.
First thing I noticed when I got off the plane was that the airport gate seats looked really uncomfortable. Lame or observant? Surprisingly, things weren't ridiculously Asian as many people (including my brain) said it would be. I mean, my layover in Nagoya, Japan, seemed a bit more foreign. I guess I just really wanted culture-shock right off-the-bat. Well, I guess I wasn't too dissapointed...
Ah, immigration. Here's what I'm talking about. Wait behind the yellow line (a suggestion), hand over documents, say absolutely nothing, you're in. Okay, I did say "February 27th" and the guy said "I can only give you 21 days." Done, I'll take it.
Prior to this moment, I truly disliked baggage claims in America. I mean, technically, they work. But trusting human beings to not be dickheads? Not so much. Why do you have to stand at the lip of baggage belt blocking everyone? Can't you just hang back make a little "active pick-up zone"? Grrrr...I get riled up in Minneapolis every time. Well, I think this is the end my anger in American baggage claims because it just doesn't compare the one in Manila. Holy crap. Jungle Gym. Bags everywhere. People everywhere. Chairs everywhere. Seriously, effing chairs to sit in while you block the people who can actually see their bags. Ridiculous.
I got my bag but needless to say, it was annoying.
Customs was a joke...except it wasn't funny. Hand lady card, walk on by. No questions. Made me feel extremely secure. I'm actually looking forward to standing in some long lines back at ATL before they let me in the country. All I'm asking for is a little "you smuggling in bananas?" or even "did you fill this card out properly?" Nope, just keep on walking.
Oh yeah, just realized, I have yet to actually walk through a door.
So I bee-line it to the hotel shuttle area and boom, (yes, the first door) and "Mr. Thigpen?" I had't said a word. I guess being the only white dude with a beard in this country makes me stand out just a tad. I hop in my pre-arranged Hertz taxi and off we go. I'm pretty excited because I've heard and read so much about the crazy driving in Manila. Hands in the air, I'm ready for the rollercoaster.
To let you in on the whole "crazy driving in Manila" thing, I'll break it down a bit based purely on the observations of this first drive. (Don't worry, the best is yet to come as I'm writing this days after this experience...true Manila traffic is insane)
1) Lines are more of a suggestion. Well, that's not quite true...they're more like another form of dirt on the road. Step 1 is to ignore them and trust that everyone else is doing the same.
2) Off-roading is totally legit. Especially in order to get on a highway - I'm serious.
3) Stop lights exist, but they are basically there for illumination. Do not trust a green, do not trust a red. Just keep driving.
4) Cars have the right-of-way, or more specifically buses cause they can crush - pedestrians beware.
The only low-point of my first hour in the Philippines was seeing my first "street-urchins". They were on the off-ramp to Ayala (the exit and area where my hotel is). There were all these children sitting in this elevated median in the middle of a big highway off-ramp with cars everywhere. I mean, these kids were anywhere from 5 to 15. Note that it is midnight and they are out-and-about. Twas sad.
Anywho, I was only able to notice the children because we this was the first stop light the driver stopped at. Well, considering it is now technically "day 2" of my trip, I will leave you with this parting word: smog.
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