Strange Doin’s In Paradise
There was a christening of a beautiful 2 year old girl today. I missed the ceremony, but was nevertheless invited to the ensuing luncheon. Like most of the places I’ve been in the Philippines, I was the only Caucasian there. The person inviting me requested I wear long trousers and shoes in the second part of the invitation, which didn’t get to me until I was already at the restaurant with my hairy legs sticking out of my size 36 Good Will shorts and my feet somewhat comfortably encased in sandals.
The other people attending were all law enforcement types, primarily jailers. It struck me that everyone was open and friendly. They were a far cry from the sociopaths I’m acquainted with back in Santa Clara County. No alcohol, no glares, no cross words. An apparently gentle and amicable crew.
That was all well and good, but the strange part came next. I was asked to say grace for the meal; something I haven’t done in recent memory. I would be a poor guest if I declined, so I forged onward, hoping I could remember what I was supposed to say. Here I am, a renegade Southern Baptist who has not stepped inside a church of his faith since 1982 offering a prayer in a room full of devout Catholics.
I guess God wasn’t too upset with me; the building didn’t fall down and I have yet to receive a Cease and Desist Order from the Vatican . . . or Manila, for that matter.
The Kids
Children here are plentiful and run free playing and yelling the day long and into the early evening. They are a happy crew and when I pop out of my apartment they are there to greet me with cheery little voices. I stop and talk to them often, getting their names and asking what their interests are. Facts which promptly slip out of mind.
I’ve seldom seen a small child acting up, and when they do, parents offer the mildest of admonishments. They seem to be happy and well adjusted, but then, too, I haven’t seen any Dr. Spock on the bookshelves of the local print mongers. Wonder if there might possibly be a correlation between the lack of “modern” child rearing books and the fact everyone is so happy here.
Getting Around
The traffic here has to be seen to be believed. Jeepneys, tricycles, taxis, bicycles, personal vehicles, heavy haul commercial trucks, and pedestrians are on the roads from before dawn till well after sunset. No one practices lane discipline, observance of yellow lines seems to be optional, and if a vehicle operator stays in a straight line for more than 10 seconds it is at a crawl or because he can’t change lanes.
How they manage to do what they do without reducing the population considerably bears scrutiny. So far I’ve seen one child injured from dashing into traffic. That wasn’t the driver’s fault. The only other incident involved a Jeepney swapping mirrors with an a Suzuki pickup truck driven by an elderly man.
I’ll never forget the night I took a taxi from Capitol Square, Cebu, to Marina Mall, Lapu Lapu. The cabbie wanted a P20 spiff for the trip and I told him only if he got me there by 8:30. It was 8:34 when I gladly paid his fare plus the spiff. That was a ride right out of the chase scenes in action movies. Beats the dickens out of any theme park ride I was ever on. That driver was born to be a fighter pilot.
More Later
There was a christening of a beautiful 2 year old girl today. I missed the ceremony, but was nevertheless invited to the ensuing luncheon. Like most of the places I’ve been in the Philippines, I was the only Caucasian there. The person inviting me requested I wear long trousers and shoes in the second part of the invitation, which didn’t get to me until I was already at the restaurant with my hairy legs sticking out of my size 36 Good Will shorts and my feet somewhat comfortably encased in sandals.
The other people attending were all law enforcement types, primarily jailers. It struck me that everyone was open and friendly. They were a far cry from the sociopaths I’m acquainted with back in Santa Clara County. No alcohol, no glares, no cross words. An apparently gentle and amicable crew.
That was all well and good, but the strange part came next. I was asked to say grace for the meal; something I haven’t done in recent memory. I would be a poor guest if I declined, so I forged onward, hoping I could remember what I was supposed to say. Here I am, a renegade Southern Baptist who has not stepped inside a church of his faith since 1982 offering a prayer in a room full of devout Catholics.
I guess God wasn’t too upset with me; the building didn’t fall down and I have yet to receive a Cease and Desist Order from the Vatican . . . or Manila, for that matter.
The Kids
Children here are plentiful and run free playing and yelling the day long and into the early evening. They are a happy crew and when I pop out of my apartment they are there to greet me with cheery little voices. I stop and talk to them often, getting their names and asking what their interests are. Facts which promptly slip out of mind.
I’ve seldom seen a small child acting up, and when they do, parents offer the mildest of admonishments. They seem to be happy and well adjusted, but then, too, I haven’t seen any Dr. Spock on the bookshelves of the local print mongers. Wonder if there might possibly be a correlation between the lack of “modern” child rearing books and the fact everyone is so happy here.
Getting Around
The traffic here has to be seen to be believed. Jeepneys, tricycles, taxis, bicycles, personal vehicles, heavy haul commercial trucks, and pedestrians are on the roads from before dawn till well after sunset. No one practices lane discipline, observance of yellow lines seems to be optional, and if a vehicle operator stays in a straight line for more than 10 seconds it is at a crawl or because he can’t change lanes.
How they manage to do what they do without reducing the population considerably bears scrutiny. So far I’ve seen one child injured from dashing into traffic. That wasn’t the driver’s fault. The only other incident involved a Jeepney swapping mirrors with an a Suzuki pickup truck driven by an elderly man.
I’ll never forget the night I took a taxi from Capitol Square, Cebu, to Marina Mall, Lapu Lapu. The cabbie wanted a P20 spiff for the trip and I told him only if he got me there by 8:30. It was 8:34 when I gladly paid his fare plus the spiff. That was a ride right out of the chase scenes in action movies. Beats the dickens out of any theme park ride I was ever on. That driver was born to be a fighter pilot.
More Later
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