Slowly and ever so surely the feeling crept over me like a piping hot cup of java on an brisk Portland morning. Is it a feeling of loneliness? Nope. Is it a sense of longing? While I may have that feeling, this warm sensation is unrelated. It didn’t take me all that long to isolate and identify what was exactly making me feel this way. However it was a good three to four weeks before I could admit it to myself. Here it goes, the moment I landed on this archipelago of 7,100 islands I instantly went from text messaging dynamo to text messaging afterthought. I know what you’re thinking, Erik is such a bad ass text messager, with thumbs of lightning.
You only think that because you’ve never been to the Philippines. I’ve come to realize that while it is true that in the United States I am a marvel to be reckoned with, in the Philippines I am a washed up has-been.
Wikipedia Excerpt from ‘Text Message’ page “SMS is particularly popular in Europe, Asia (excluding Japan; see below), Australia and New Zealand. Popularity has grown to a sufficient extent that the term texting (used as a verb meaning the act of mobile phone users sending short messages back and forth) has entered the common lexicon. In China, SMS is very popular, and has brought service providers significant profit (18 billion short messages were sent in 2001[4]). It is a very influential and powerful tool in the Philippines, where the average user sends 10-12 text messages a day . The Philippines alone sends on the average 400 million text messages a day or approximately 142 billion text messages sent a year, more than the annual average SMS volume of the countries in Europe, and even China and India. In 2001, text messaging played an important role in deposing former Philippine president Joseph Estrada..”
As aforementioned my ineptitude was clear early on. If I made a trip to the Mercury Drug Store the clerk would ring me up while text messaging. Since maybe only one or two people reading this blog have actually been to Mercury Drug I should note that there is always a line. Point being, this chic wasn’t texting due to utter boredom, she was texting because that’s what people do here. They text, and they do it really well.
Once every few weeks I come across a really likeable cab driver. By likeable I mean fluent in English, funny, and knowledgeable about the types of activities I would be interested in. They really understand the concept of relationship and have business cards lying in wait. This way if you ever need a ride to some waterfall,
volcano or other natural wonder you’ll contact them for the long fare and likely tip them well. And you are happy to do so because they understand not only what you’re saying but also what you actually want. And believe me those two things are very very different. What’s curious to me though is that while they have a cell phone that of course receive calls they without fail always reiterate multiple times that if you want to contact them, just text. “Yes if you need a ride to Tagatay there is my number, I can receive calls, but please text.” I’ve had about three to four encounters with these types of guys. And always my last interaction involves them rolling down there window and yelling “please text.”
You know how whenever you enter a hospital or any sort of ‘Health’ venue that involves relatively serious health care there are signs indicating ‘No Cell Phone Zone’? They don’t do that here. Recently my co-worker Tara went to the hospital with severe abdominal pain. I’m told by her, Jen and Noelle that not only did this cell phone free zone not exist, but doctors and nurses were texting the entire time. Whether reviewing a chart, moving an IV Stand or talking to you about your symptoms, there could be simultaneous texting.
I suppose I should not be surprised then about a recent journalistic discovery. God I wish I still had the article to quote verbatim. But the gist is that a conference/panel recently concluded here in Manila. The panel was assembled to assess and rank the ten most influential new words that have come on the scene this year. Some of the stuff was rather blasé like friendster. What really caught my eye was the word that took the top spot. It was in Tagalog so I don’t recall the exact spelling or pronunciation. Essentially it was the word that has taken over for ‘missed call’. If you were to call my cell phone and I wasn’t able to answer….that’s not what they’re talking about. The cell phone culture has so infused local culture that a missed call now is a call where you intentionally hang up after one ring so as not to actually speak to the person. Essentially you are signaling the desire to engage them in a correspondence of text messaging or cell phone IM (which I had never heard of before).
An interesting series of events has just occurred now as I sit here typing this all out at Havana Café. As you probably do not know we here in Manila are at the tail end of a typhoon. Fortunately for my sake it didn’t hit here too hard. However had you asked me earlier in the week I would have told you it hit like a fucking sledge-hammer. The newspaper and Philippines in my office tell me it just nicked us. Hmm.
Several days back the pool boys plucked me from the pool suddenly and without warning. Somewhere between lap 1 and lap 10 a lightning storm unlike anything I’d ever seen had begun. While Portland isn’t warm enough to get much lightning, Arizona certainly is more than hot enough. So in those early fall Monsoons I’ve seen my fair share of boltage raining down from the heavens. Not even the fiercest AZ lightning storm could compare to this barrage. It was one after another after another, literally just a second apart and stretching the width and height of my vision. I’m curious as to what a full Typhoon hit would look like.
Wow that was quite a tangent. Anyway I’m sitting out on the patio at Café Havana when I detect a faint drizzle. Unlike the City of Roses a faint drizzle inevitably turns into a downpour. Especially with a Typhoon in the neighborhood. Of course I closed the laptop and put it away. I’m wondering what to do as I had just ordered my first drink and begun pondering the food menu as I was 14 hours removed from my last meal. A ridiculous worry when in this service minded country. Especially when at the crème de la crème of social life, Havana Café. In a minute they had moved my table to an overhang of the Greenbelt Mall, in which it is situated. Then they took the liberty of turning off the lights in that corner of the mall to dissuade indoor mall-goers from exiting that door and bothering their customers. Don’t believe me on the service? In the time it took me those last few sentences I ordered, and began smoking a Cuban cigar. The waitress even cut it for me with expert precision. Life in a country devoid of Cuban trade restrictions is pleasant. While I’ve smoked my fair share of cigars I’ll be the first to admit I’m not enough of a connoisseur to tell much of the difference. For me it’s more the concept of smoking the ever illusive cigaro de Cubana (totally butchered that I know).
One last tangent, I promise. I just want to put this down in written form before I forgot. The Arab gentleman sitting at the adjacent table just engaged me in quite the conversation. He had ordered a grape Hookah for he and his wife. After a few puffs he leaned over to me in order to joke about how weakness of the tobacco. Funny to me because I can’t remember the last time a hookah didn’t turn me blue from thickness. He told me that his grandmother in Pakistan smoked a hookah that would put he or I to the floor essentially. And he was not inferring it contained any illicit substance. This tobacco was simply so pure and potent.
Muhammed, that’s his name, had lived in Dubai for virtually if not all of his life. However his roots are from Waziristan. For those of you not up on your current events and related geography Waziristan is the lawless tribal region of Pakistan bordering Afghanistan. It is also the staging ground for the Taliban and almost assuredly the region where Osama Bin Laden and company have sought and received safe refuge. While within the legal borders of Pakistan a vast majority of residents do not consider themselves to be Pakistani. It is an area that even more pacifistic politicians such as Barack Obama have recently suggested we should bomb unilaterally. Translation, we should bomb the fuck out of them even without permission from Pakistan’s leader. The results of which would result in unprecedented global backlash and almost an almost guaranteed overthrow of the government.
Okay a major tangent on my tangent. The reason I bring it up is because this guy was so extremely secular. While he claimed to be a Muslim he said it was in the loosest sense of the word. More cultural than religious. Kind of like how many people claim to be Jewish but more in a heritage kind of way, and not a synagogue ever Thursday type of way. He was extremely secular in his views and even at one point apologize from the bottom of his heart for the 9/11 attacks. One of the 11 hijackers grew up in his province in Kuwait and for that he said he would feel forever embarrassed. He loved America. The two years he spent working abroad in Boston were the best of his life. Then Muhammed whipped out his wallet and flipped through his various Dubai ID’s. He says to me “Look at these. Look at how I must make myself appear when I am back at home.” Each identification card had Muhammed dressed head to toe in full Arab garb. You the white head scarf and matching…I don’t even know what to call it, but the white dress like apparel. A far cry from the dress shirt and slacks he had on tonight.
I’m sure Muhammed is a far cry from the mainstream Muslim. Even when compared to the much more socially liberal Dubai. His views in some cases were even more extreme than mine in some cases. He told me he wanted nothing more than for the US to crush the Mullahs of Iran. When he spoke of the Mullahs he had a loathing in his eyes I have rarely seen in my lifetime. It was a glare of hatred. And I don’t know if that is a more genuine ‘they’re endangering the entire Middle East and our way of life kind of thing.’ Or a more cultural Sunni I hate everything Shiite kind of way. Certainly I didn’t have the balls to ask him that question. My guess is that it’s a bit of both.
Well hopefully I’ve had enough mojitos that I can actually get to sleep sometime before the hour of 4am, yet not too many that I don’t have a headache in the morning. Due to my odd schedule Sunday has become the only day where I really feel free of both time and sleep restraints. The question now becomes what to do on rainy Manila Sunday when you’re all alone.
Until next time.
I feel almost whole again. Since Monday and through this morning I’ve battled a nauseating headache and an ugly case of the spins. Even this morning towards the end of it all, I was still not out of the woods. I spun around in the elevator area to figure out which of the eight was ringing at me for a ride to my floor. I was 
so dizzy from one spin that I had to bend over and catch my breath. Sadly this caused me to MISS my elevator. Yikes. And if that doesn’t convince you, I haven’t had coffee in four days. For those of you who know me well, that says it all.
Outside of my hotel there currently sit what appears to be half of the Makati Police Force. For the record Makati is the portion of Manila in which I am staying. It is essentially the Financial Capital/Beverly Hills of Manila, and the area where virtually all foreigners live and stay when in Manila. Knowing this it is also the most 
heavily policed and guarded. I usually see a lot of police and guardsmen around, literally on every corner. But this was different. Across the street were approximately 20 Police Vans, another 20 or so Police Motorcycles which I wasn’t able 
to capture on film. I always feel a little uneasy snapping pictures of large groups of heavily armed men. One picture was nerve racking enough. The last thing I need is to lose my third camera to confiscation. The security detail for the Pakistan Foreign Minister a few weeks back paled in comparison. For fear of stirring up any more worrying that I already have with this paragraph I’m leaving it at that. Even though I have a hypothesis or two.
of ill health, to treat myself to a Dampa Fish Market feast. On the menu for me today, steamed Lapu Lapu with soy glaze, one large crab in chili sauce, and upon 
the insistent recommendation of a visiting Yahoo Customer Service Executive last week I also ordered grilled squid, no spices or fancy sauce, just grilled. As I imagine you can tell from the pictures it was scrum-didily-umptious. 
