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Christmas – Fil-Am Style

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It’s Christmas time – not in the Philippines but here in the good old USA. (Ok it’s Xmas time in the Philippines too but that’s not my point.) This is Janet’s 2nd Christmas season here in foreigner land and our 3rd Christmas together as a couple. I know she misses what she considers to be a true Filipino Christmas; one that starts back in September and continues unabated for months and months and doesn’t end until New Years Day. Here she is surprised to see people putting up trees just a few days before the event.

And when I explained to her that I used to wrap presents the night before Christmas, so that in the morning they would appear under the tree to excite my children, she doesn’t completely understand. Our tree’s been up for weeks and that was too late for Janet: I was the Scrooge who insisted it shouldn’t go up until after Thanksgiving. And our presents appear under the tree the moment they enter the house; wrapping them has priority over everything else. It’s as if it doesn’t count if they are not wrapped immediately and placed under the tree. When new presents are placed, Janet reorganizes the entire layout of the presents; like a chef who cares more even about presentation than what’s being served. After which pictures are taken. When I suggest that pictures should be taken only after all the packages are under the tree, Janet gives me “the look.”

Our house has been decorated like it has never been decorated before. Multiple trips have been made to the Dollar Store, since while Janet likes her bright decorations, she is nothing if not practical. And once again, each time a round of pictures is taken and posted to that world wide communal favorite – Facebook, so that friends from all over the world can ooo and aahh, impressed that the kano (Jewish kano, to boot) supports a proper Christmas.

Yet I knew all this effort wasn’t quite enough and so when friends of ours proposed that we get together on Xmas Eve, I suggested our house to host the shindig. The 4 of us have become 10 or is it 12 or 15; we will find out tonight. I was instructed to buy lots of pork, which I did; and then instructed to get more still – which I also did.

It still strikes Janet as odd and almost offensive that we are doing this event pot luck style. In the Philippines, if you invite people over for a party, you supply everything; they only supply empty stomaches and parched throats. But here, the first thing that people ask is what can they bring. And so we will have ribs and chicken and pulled pork and lumpia and salads and desserts and wine and beer and booze. We might as well be feeding the whole barangay, except that in the U.S. the neighbors don’t just show up. I am getting so used to the Filipino way I kind of wish that they would.

There is one other struggle for Janet when it comes to Christmas; what to get Dave. I am old and a “rich kano” and so really have everything I need. Clothes? Over the years I have accumulated more than I can generally wear. Household crap? Like most Americans I have too much. Tools? Again too many and I spent last year downsizing my tool collection.
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Also, I really don’t want Janet to spend much of her hard earned money, obtained in modest sums by working much harder than I do, on her husband who doesn’t need anything for Christmas other than her.

However, I do have a long time weakness – watches. After Janet asked me innumerable times what I wanted for Xmas, I finally mentioned that a particular company was having a great sale. Janet jumped at the chance to get me something I truly wanted. We went to the company’s website, she helped me choose the color of the watch and the next thing I knew it was here, wrapped and under the tree. It’s the first time in many years that I am truly excited about receiving something for Christmas. But that’s Janet; she really is excited to make me happy for Christmas, even though as a Jew I will never completely be in tune with the celebration.

Despite that, I am trying my best. Tonight we will have our friends over, stuff ourselves and get properly merry, aka drunk. And tomorrow my kids will come over and we will all happily open the presents.

And shortly thereafter I will no doubt post a pic of me proudly wearing my new watch, not because it’s expensive, not because it’s a brand name; but because my wonderful wife got it for me! And also, because it’s gonna look cool as shit!

Merry Christmas everyone! Thanks so much for supporting us and supporting this blog! It’s been a blast. See you all soon, one place or another.

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How to Give Your Filipina Wife a Great Christmas?

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Anyone who has ever been to the Philippines, dated or married a Filipina, or ever entered a karaoke bar knows that Christmas in the Philippines is a big, big deal. Fortunately, for those of us who do not live in, but only visit the Philippines, you don’t have to be around on December 25th to get the full flavor of the holiday season. It starts in September (August really) and goes full throttle for four months, plowing right through the 25th and heading for New Year’s Day.

I have only been in the Philippines for the actual holiday season once, leaving for home early on the morning of January 1st, after an all-night Manila fireworks display, with more guns shot off than fireworks. When I got up that morning to get to my flight out of Manila, gunsmoke still filled the air, about what it must have been like the day after Gettysburg.

BTW, as an irrelevant aside, since my flight was so early, I decided to stay at a hotel close to NAIA Airport and since it was New Year’s Eve and my last night in the Philippines, I decided not to be my normally cheap self and to treat myself to a night at a 5-star hotel, the Manila Marriott.

I ate dinner alone at the hotel restaurant, where the holiday buffet was about $50/head. Poor Filipinos my ass! The place was filled, not with rich kanos, but with rich Filipinos. As most of my friends know, I am a bit of a watch nut, but the timepieces that were dripping off most of the men’s wrists in that restaurant would have been totally out of the question for me. The day before, I hit Mall of Asia and visited a watch store filled with $10k+ watches, and foolishly wondered, “who the hell can afford these in a 3rd world country?” Apparently all their customers congregated that night at the Marriott.

But this isn’t the point about this blog piece; it’s about Christmas in the Philippines – and my wife, Janet. The other day she seemed sad and when I asked why she told me she missed Christmas in the Philippines. “We have Christmas here,” I assured her. “And trees and presents too! Hell, we even have a chance at a white Christmas.”

“It’s not the same,” she assured me. I tried to reason with her; not the best thing to do with a sad Pinay. “It’s not long enough,” she said and I thought ‘thank goodness!’

I finally replied, “It’s just that we have Halloween first and then Thanksgiving. Once Thanksgiving is over, Christmas becomes big time here.” Of course, Janet already knew this; this will be her second Christmas in the U.S. But the day after Thanksgiving when Christmas season officially begins in the US, means only one month of Christmas, which honestly makes most Pinays feel very short changed.

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Of course once I had kids, Christmas became a must. Ex Number Two had boxes of ornaments she’d collected dating back I think to the Spanish Inquisition. Our first year together we had a large old house with high ceilings. She wanted the biggest tree in town and we got one that measured 14 feet. Cutting it was like a scene out of Christmas Vacation, with me playing the role of Clark Griswold trying to drag a 7” thick tree home, then cut it to fit. Of course the first time I got it wrong, since I’d failed to take the star on top into account. I complained, “I’m a Jew. What do I know about stars on top of Christmas trees?”

Anyway the point is that I did have many Christmases with kids, which mostly involved figuring out which bill could go unpaid so I could shell out the ungodly amounts of money for Christmas gifts, family dinners and the like. For me the best part of the season was the Christmas Eve dinner Ex Number Two liked to prepare. Not because of the dinner itself, which was perfectly nice, but because of the rum I was allowed to drink. No – I’m not a drunk. My Exes grandfather was from Barbados and when he would go back home he would come back with genuine, no shit Barbados rum. Not the swill they export to Americans; the real, full meal yummy deal. He gifted bottles to relatives but mostly spent the year bartering with his stash. The man never paid a doctor or dentist his entire adult life!

I am not much of a drinker but that rum was from heaven. Of course for 364 days a year Ex Number Two did not allow its consumption, hiding her stash. But on Christmas Eve out it came like Santa’s little gift just to me. So that’s why I love Christmas.

But back to the present. Last year I did my best. We went out and bought a tree, a few boxes of ornaments, general decorations, and threw a bunch of presents under said tree, even though half of them were for Hannukah. My kids, now teens – teens with attitudes, came over in the afternoon to collect the goods. Janet and I watched Christmas Vacation. She was a great sport about it all but in the end it wasn’t the same as I imagine Christmas must be for her in the Philippines, what with parents, and lolos and 9 brothers and sisters, cousins, ates, and a niece or two.

I have no grand conclusion here – just a question. How would you all suggest Christmas could be made better for your Filipina wife? By all means post your suggestions. After all, mine makes the other 364 days better for me.

 

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Does Service Suck in the Philippines?

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One of the great complaints among expats and tourists alike in the Philippines is about the quality of service. Almost to a man they say it sucks. Now I don’t live in the Philippines, but have visited a bunch of times and never considered it quite as bad as advertised, though I will admit that might be because the clerk providing me with that “poor” service was a cute Pinay, making up for the service by throwing out “guapo Amerikano” every few minutes.

Now let me start out my rant with a basic concept: that anyone who thinks you can go to a third world country and get 1st world service is an idiot 🙂 Let me expound on this a bit first and use my lovely wife, Janet, as an example; I’ll get to her a bit later. What I really believe is that almost everything is cultural – even what we think of as good or bad service. The other thing I’ve got to question is the quality of service we think we get in the 1st world.

Remember that funny scene in Back to the Future, where Marty McFly travels back to the 50s (by way of a Delorian). He arrives in his small town and is shocked to look over at the local gas station (service stations back then) and watch three attendants descend on a car pulling in for gas. I am old enough to remember a time when attendants filled your tank (that’s done in only a couple of states today), checked your oil and water, put air in your tires, etc. Today if you want air or water for your car, there is a machine that costs $.75 – and you gotta run it. How’s that for service? I guess is must be OK, since most of us accepted the change and rationalized it by claiming that we saved a couple cents a gallon on gas.

I am also old enough (apparently this blog post is actually about my old age) to remember a time when doctors made house calls. As a kid I’d get the flu, my mom would call the doctor and he would come over (usually late at night), examine me and declared with great authority, “he’s got the flu.” I know, I know – you youngsters think I am making this up.

Today, if you’re sick at night, you wait till the next day (assuming the doc has office hours the next day – otherwise he might be able to see you between the front and back nine) or go to the emergency room, where a doctor barely out of puberty will poke you (after you’ve waited 3 hours). In the end you get a bill from the emergency room comparable to your monthly mortgage payment. Is this good service or just what we’ve gotten used to? If a pediatrician makes twice what POTUS makes, shouldn’t we expect him/her to miss a few hours of sleep or reschedule his damn tee time?

By the way, as a point of comparison, many doctors in the Philippines do make house calls, probably because in the Philippines doctors are not rich and they are worried that if they don’t show up that night by the next morning you might actually get better on your own.

There are a few things that have improved service-wise in the 1st world since my childhood. For example, you can go to your local box store and return just about any purchase. Most people consider this to be great service. “I don’t like the color – I’m taking it back.” And sure enough you can with no questions asked.

When I was a kid and you bought something at your local KMart (no Walmart back then) unless when you brought the item home it was broken – you were out of luck. And if it was broken, you didn’t get a refund; they gave you a replacement. And you filled out a form the length of a 1040 to get the replacement.

So it’s better now right? I suppose, but guess what? That customer service desk at Walmart with the friendly clerk who will take anything back with no questions asked – it ain’t free – ultimately we all pay for it!

Another common complaint in the Philippines is about credit cards. Some stores take them, some don’t. Machines don’t work sometimes. If you go to the third world expecting to get your Discover rewards points, you might be disappointed.
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Let’s use my old age as a baseline again, shall we. I know it’s hard to believe but not that many years ago people in the West actually went to stores and made purchases with cash or check. We were primitive back then, weren’t we? Then about 30 years ago some smart tech nerd made an amazing discovery and thus we were given the ATM. The machine was amazing. You could use what looked like a credit card and actually get cash anytime, day or night – so that you could go to that department store and pay cash for your purchases.

Eventually the cash card became a debit card and we all stopped carrying cash altogether. And checks? Come on! Janet and I have a checking account but no checks. What’s the point?

But guys go to the Philippines and discover that not all stores take debit/credit cards and not all store clerks are thrilled when you present yours. I know it’s hard to believe, but most people in a developing nation don’t carry American Express. They carry pesos, albeit too few of them.

A guy posted in a forum recently about an experience standing in line at the local supermarket behind an ancient and nasty kano. They were in the “cash only” line, but the old fart insisted loudly that he be allowed to use his credit card. The shy clerk finally agreed but the card wouldn’t go through and she suggested that maybe the coot’s card was not good. The guy yelled and screamed that he had enough money in his account to buy and sell the whole damn country. The poster was embarrassed for the poor clerk and embarrassed to be associated with such a foreigner.

OK, I hear you asking – how does this relate to Janet, who is what this blog should be about (if I were smart and wanted a nice ending to the night) – so let me try to pull that together. For five years before we were married, Janet put herself through college by working in a small Pension House on the island of Leyte, far from her home in Cebu. She got up in the morning and helped clean the rooms. In the afternoon she went to school. She returned in the evening and worked at the front desk until 10:00 PM. She checked guests in and out, handled the cash register and often just about ran the place in the absence of the owner and manager. If the relief person was late or could not show for work, she worked that shift also. She worked six and sometimes seven days a week, as is the custom in the Philippines. She provided excellent service and the staff and customers loved her, as did the owner. How much money did she earn? Zero! Yes you read that right; for five years she worked and worked and was paid nothing. Her compensation was that the owner gave her room and board and paid her tuition at the small college she attended. This is common in the Philippines. It used to be common in the West and there is a term that was once used to describe this form of work – indentured servitude!

Of course Janet was bright and pretty. Every day she and I would be chatting online from the front desk computer when she would say, “it’s time for the players.” I knew what she was referring to and they weren’t the kind of “players” we in the West think of. They were a group of older, rich Filipinos, who gathered daily to play Mah Jong at the pension house. Janet’s job was to serve them. My guess is that the “players” tipped her well and that made up the pocket money she used.

Yet despite the tough circumstances, she did not complain, finished her degree and managed to give excellent service to a variety of guests – particularly the “players,” no doubt.

About six months after we married Janet took a service job around the corner from where we live. By American standards it is not high paying. The job attracts young and inexperienced workers and the turnover is fast and furious. Just like at the pension house, they love Janet. She works hards, cares for the customers, helps her fellow employees, covers for them when they are sick. She has been asked many times why an attractive girl with a college degree would work in such a job, and work hard at that. She has no answer that they can understand.

In short, she provides the type of service that Filipinos are famous for the world over – and the word poor doesn’t enter into it!

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“If love is an amazing dream, then marriage is the alarm clock!”

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Today’s our one year anniversary. OK, it was the 22nd, but it sounds more dramatic if I say today. While there are always ups and downs, disagreements and even full blown arguments in any relationship, truth be told – this has been a great year.

If you throw in the one year I lived with my second wife prior to marriage, I was married for a total of 20 years. It’s sad and unfortunate to report but out of that 20 years, maybe one was happy – one combined. Oh, don’t get me wrong; there were nice moments. Children being born and growing up, that trip to Alaska. But when I really looked back and thought about when the primary relationship was good – well things came up woefully short. Perhaps that’s why I was twice divorced; well, it’s a theory.

I can say without hesitation that the last year with Janet was by far better than any year I spent married before. Granted, based on the previous paragraph the bar was set pretty low, but we easily cleared it.

As we always do, we posted a few Facebook pictures and comments. And Facebook kindly posts an anniversary reminder which got us dozens of responses from friends. No doubt a couple were amazed that we made it to one year. I was not.

But it was Janet’s posting that was most interesting and telling about this intersection of two cultures.

As you all know, when you post a set of pics on Facebook you usually create an album and name it. Janet’s name for her anniversary picture album was, “If love is an amazing dream, then marriage is the alarm clock!”

When I read the title, I cracked up. I figured it couldn’t have come from Janet. I gently broached the subject that night, just before we were to go out for our anniversary dinner.

“I read it and thought it was funny,” she said, confirming my assumption that she hadn’t written it.

“Do you know what it means?” I asked.

“Of course! When you are in love, the alarm clock goes off telling you it’s time to get married.”

“Um, not exactly.” I explained to her how the average American would interpret the line.

“I should remove it then,” she said. “But it’s still funny and I still like it.”

“Then you should keep it.”

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“That you’re funny. Keep it.”

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I had been checking online reviews to find a fancy restaurant we’d never been to for our celebration but when it came down to it Janet wanted to eat food that she enjoyed with a menu that included white rice with every entree, so in the end we went to our favorite Chinese restaurant. Not exactly Filipino faire but the side order of barbecue pork made it close enough. And Janet simply did not want us to drop a bunch of money on a meal, especially one she might not enjoy. But of course since I had saved a bunch on dinner and we finished early enough, Janet gently asked whether we might stop at the mall where an H&M sale was strongly calling her. She picked up a couple of $3-$5 items and found a way to get 10% off the total. That’s about as extravagant as she usually gets.

The morning after our anniversary we slept in. No, not for that reason! OK, truth be told not just for that reason. I had a doctor’s appointment at 10:00. In addition, my son had called the night before, during dinner, saying that his uncle wanted to come over in the morning to pick up some of his things and deliver them to him at college.

Now my former BIL is an interesting character. Very youthful looking for his early 70s, he’s a retired doctor-psychiatrist, and a not so retired playa. He had never met Janet but had asked me about her on an occasion or two.

He arrived just as I was about to drive off to the doctor’s appointment. After a quick greeting, I opened the garage, showed him the pile of stuff my son wanted and told him, ‘Don’t worry, Janet will close the garage when you are done.”

That night after work, Janet giggled and told me that after he had loaded the car, playa BIL, rang the doorbell to tell Janet he was done and as an excuse to meet her and give her a good look. It’s good to know really. He’s 10+ years older than me. Nice to know that at that age I will still be giving Janet a good long look as we celebrate our 11th anniversary!

 

 

 

 

 

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Lip Pointing with Manny Pacquiao vs. Ray Rice

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Here’s how our weekend went:

It was Saturday and I knew it was bound to be a crazy one. My son was going off to college as a Freshman and my emotions were mixed; between sadness about my little boy leaving home; and unbridled ecstasy about my little boy leaving home. The plan was to get up early, have breakfast, pack the car to the brim, and take off for the two hour drive to his new life.

I got up and volunteered to make breakfast so that Janet could get up and eat with us and say her goodbyes (“regards” in the Philippines). I’m a lousy cook but managed to rustle up a bunch of eggs, bacon and toast and didn’t burn any of it, which was a very good sign for the day ahead.

Janet stumbled out to breakfast. My son wasn’t nearly ready, so the two of us sat down to eat. That’s when I noticed her eye…

Let me go back a moment and tell you that Janet is a very sensitive young woman – physically. I mean if she comes within an inch of brushing the dining room table the next day there is a large bruise. She works in a store and comes home almost daily with bruises on her arms and the occasional burn. I implore her to deal with these accidents at the time they happen but I think she just knows herself well enough to blow it off.

But Saturday morning across from the breakfast table as I glanced at her normally pretty face I saw a good sized mouse under her eye. “What happened to your eye?” I asked shocked. She didn’t have a clue what I was taking about. “You have a black eye,” I exclaimed. “Did you bang your eye?”

She assured me she hadn’t but then said, “I did cry a little bit last night.” She was missing her family and some tears did fall.

“Crying should not cause a black eye,” I said still shocked at how she looked. “Does it hurt?” I asked. She shrugged, still not really comprehending my concern.

Finally she giggled. “Well, I guess I’ll have to tell everyone you hit me.”

“What! That is not what you want to say in the U.S. And the last place you want to joke about being hit is in Portland, Oregon – and certainly not this week.”

“Why not?” She genuinely appeared confused.

“Because it’s a terrible thing to do to a woman – to anyone. And this week there’s Ray Rice.” I was sure she didn’t know about that.

“You know I would never hit you, right? I have never ever hit a woman.”

It took me a few terrified minutes to explain the trouble I would be in if anyone believed such a joke. “The cops would haul me off and throw away the key.”

“I’d just tell them it was a joke,” she calmly said.

“You don’t understand. They would assume you were lying, trying to get me out. People take this sort of thing very very seriously here.” I added, “…And for very good reason,” just to emphasize that I was a liberal, good guy who would never consider hitting a woman.

“I mean Roger Goodell’s gonna lose his job over Ray Rice and he wasn’t even in the elevator.”

“I mean Roger Goodell’s gonna lose his job over Ray Rice and he wasn’t even in the elevator.”

Janet looked at me clueless but agreed that she would not mention that I’d hit her. She then asked me about who this Ray Rice was and excitedly asked if she could see the video.

Her plan in my absence was to go out with her best friend. For a moment I considered emailing the friend to assure her I had nothing to do with the eye, but before I could deal with that my son came upstairs, we packed the car and took off.
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In the afternoon, after I’d gotten back home Janet texted me asking if I’d like to meet them. I walked over in the hot afternoon sun. After we greeted each other, I asked Janet’s Filipina friend if Janet had told her about the eye. “Yes,” she said. “My husband one time rolled over in bed and kicked me hard. So it can happen.”

“I didn’t kick her and didn’t give her the black eye!” I exclaimed frustrated but finally laughing at the absurdity.

Now, this concerns me and not just for my near brush with the law. Janet is a very honest person and Filipinas often filter their conversation to save face, or at least expect you to filter what you say. While out in public she sometimes shushes me or scolds me for pointing.

But in fact she has much less of a filter than I do and there are many things she says that she does not realize you cannot say in the U.S. We may be out in public and she will get my attention and motion toward someone and say “she’s ugly,” or “he has a very long nose.” Cleanliness if very important in the Philippines and one of the worst things you can say about someone is that he/she is not clean, yet Janet has no problem motioning toward someone and indicating the person “is dirty.”

lips

Of course in the Philippines no one points to anyone like we rude Americans do. Janet raises her eyebrows or points with her lips, as is the Philippines custom. I know her well enough to know she’s motioning toward something or someone and probably not in a good way.

“You shouldn’t say she is dirty,” I will admonish.

“But she is.”

“True, but people here take such comments very seriously.”

“Then she should clean herself better.”

Janet works with the public and is well liked by her employer, so I assume she hasn’t offended any customers. But as a new husband I worry that she might cause herself troubles because of cultural misunderstandings.

“Just be careful. Someone may hear you and take offense. And you’re smaller than most American women.”

“I will kick them,” she replies and I am reminded that she’s a lot tougher than she looks.

—–

On Sunday Janet and I did our weekly grocery shopping followed by a trip to her favorite Asian store. They sell lechon on Sundays and I had promised her some. We were checking out the fish section when we saw Janet’s BFF from the day before and her husband, also there for the lechon, fish and live crabs. Next thing I knew they’d invited us to dinner and the women were organizing a feast. Janet spent the afternoon baking bread. Around 5:00 I asked, “So when are we supposed to go over there for dinner?”

“Oh, they are coming here. Our grill is better than theirs.”

“No problem,” I said by now immune to changes in plans. “But I guess I’d better go out and clean the grill.”

“You didn’t clean the grill yet?”

“No, of course not. How was I suppose to know…” I caught myself and laughed.

It’s more fun in the Philippines or in the West with a Filipina.

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Liar, Liar

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Everywhere I turn I see and hear all about lying Filipinos and Filipinas. “They are all liars,” goes the standard expat mantra. It’s taken me a few years of hearing this over and over, but at this point I’m pissed. I know, I know – I’m a bit slow. My kids know it, my wife knows it and now you all know it. I may be slow, but I come from behind and catch up with a vengeance.

Lying in the Philippines takes on all varieties, according to the many expats and tourists. Of course girls online all lie. Their families all lie. Cabbies all lie. Salesman and service providers all lie. And, believe it or not, there are many men who proclaim that their Filipina wives, some of whom have been great wives for decades – all lie. There’s a special term in the Philippines that describes foreign husbands who claim their wives to be less than honest – horny.

My indignation came to a head just this week. Reading my favorite expat forum a question was posed. Seems a well-meaning poster received a massage in the Philippines; no not that kind of massage – get your head out of the gutter. Massage and massage therapy is everywhere in Asia and the price is dirt cheap. It’s easy in the Philippines to get a one hour massage for $5.

Well, in this case it seems that the lady struck up a conversation with the customer and told him her tale of woe about the hardships in her life and with her family. Frankly, this could never happen with me. When I get a massage I start to moan in such a way that – well, she’d know better than to talk to me.

But in this case the customer felt so bad he wondered if he should “help” the poor woman and he posed that question to the assembled wisdom of the forum. Many of the comments were of the “they are all liars and scammers” sort of thing. I came in with what was clearly the most reasonable response; that he had already helped her by paying for a massage and tipping her. In addition, I pointed out that service providers the world over “stretch” the truth; it’s called angling for a tip. Your favorite waiter is not gonna tell you he cleared $60k last year in tips; he’s gonna tell you that his oldest just started college and it’s costing a fortune.

So, the man felt compelled to act but first he investigated the woman’s story. He found that her claims of woe, while not complete lies, were only partial truths. By the end of the thread he was on the side of many of the others; that “they” are mostly liars and scammers. I felt saddened that he’d gone from wanting to help her, to determining that she was a liar, to deciding that many Filipinos are liars.

dr-house-everybody-lies

Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not proclaiming that Filipinos are the most honest people on the planet. My view is simple – to quote House MD, “everybody lies.” Anyone who says he doesn’t – just proved my point.

“Liar, Liar” is my favorite Jim Carrey movie and if you haven’t seen it you should go right out and rent it or illegally download it – I’ll lie to cover your ass. In it, Carrey plays a lawyer; not a bad sort, just a regular guy who has a way of bending the truth beyond recognition. His young son makes a wish that for just one day his dad won’t be able to tell a lie. Hilarity ensues. Carrey, physically incapable of lying, discovers that you simply cannot live in the adult world without lying. “Do you like my hairdo?” asks the secretary with the worst hairdo in Hollywood. He can no longer lie.

In court when the judge greets him and asks how he is, Carrey truthfully tells the judge about a “bad sexual experience,” he’d just had.

He calls a senior partner a “dickhead” because, well – that’s what the man is.

The products are prepared with sildenafil citrate, which acts like a canadian levitra which will be truly helpful and cost-effective. People should also reveal their medical history to the doctor if any of these side effects remain for a longer time and become bothersome.PRECAUTIONS :Drinking alcohol can temporarily impair the ability to get soft cialis pills hard state of male reproductive organ.Corpora cavernosa tissue and nerves of penile area enable erection, when the veins of the region block in blood, getting the male phallus very hard. One order viagra india medicine at one time should be the medication pattern so if you are having any other medicine for male impotence. Post that, when unica-web.com viagra 5mg the man gets intimate with his partner, he doesn’t have the potential to get engaged into intercourse. The problem with lying is – it’s easier to see it in others than in ourselves. Surely, in the U.S. when you greet someone and you each ask how the other is and then rapid fire, each says “fine, how about you” – it’s just a social convention. It’s not really a lie – unless you’re Jim Carrey confronted by a fat lawyer asking “What’s up?” Answer, “Your cholesterol, fattie.”

Let’s face it – we lie all the time but justify it because we cannot survive in society without lying. We lie to protect ourselves, to protect our loved ones, to protect feelings. We lie to protect our jobs; anyone want to tell their clients what they really think of them?

We lie in every negotiation. The salesman lies, “this is my lowest possible price.” The buyer lies, “this is the most I can possibly pay.” We all justify that those aren’t really lies; they’re negotiating strategies.

In short, lying is not only universal, it’s cultural. Go to the Philippines and ask that friend “how are you?” and instead of the required lie, “I’m fine,” he is actually liable to tell you how he really is. Or he will turn it around and only want to know how you are.

If you’re anal like me, just take one day out of your life and track what you say and how many lies, white lies and half-truths are involved. The number will astound you – if you are truthful with yourself, which most of you won’t be.

The same can be said for the “they’re all scammers” crowd. I mean, after all, you arrived in Cebu and got beat by a cabbie out of an extra 100 pesos ($2.50). The girl you thought you liked asked you for 1000 pesos ($25) for medicine for her mother. Mom doesn’t need the medicine and you feel cheated.

Of course, you don’t feel cheated in the U.S. when that plumber or electrical guy came to your house and charged you $400 for 1 1/2 hours worth of work. He didn’t cheat you; he told you straight up it was gonna cost you an arm and a leg and you’d best fork it over or call someone else who’ll charge even more.

Today I read a financial story that said that over the past 10 years U.S. Corporations had spent over 54% of their corporate profits on what? Investing? Nope. R&D? Nope. They spend over 50% of their profits buying back their own stock. Why do they buy their own stock? So that the stock price goes up. Who benefits? The CEOs, boards of directors, and general fat cats who own tens of millions in stock options. But that’s not scamming because, hey, you have a couple grand in your 401k, so you benefited, right? It’s certainly not a scam as egregious as that damn Filipino cabbie who beat you out of the 100 pesos.

So when it comes to being married to a Filipina, which is supposedly the theme of this blog, what’s the point. Once again I’ll make a movie reference. I re-watched “A beautiful Mind” last week. The Oscar winning story of John Nash, Nobel prize willing economist and schizophrenic. There’s a great scene (hopefully not a lie – I sure would like to trust director, Ron Howard; he was “Opie” after all) in which Nash discovers the theorem for which he won the Nobel.

He’s in a bar, where all great discoveries are made, checking out girls (don’t you love this guy). He and his friends all want “the blonde.” Adam Smith, the founder of modern economics, 200 years before postulated that group dynamics work best when each member of the group does what benefits himself, which in this case would have meant that everyone goes for the blonde. Nash realized that Adam Smith was wrong; that the best outcome occurs when each individual works for himself plus the group as a whole. In this case, ignore the blonde, and hit on all her brunette friends.

How does this relate to a Fil-Am marriage? For thousands of years men and women have lied to each other to get their own way in relationships. If I believe Nash, the best outcome happens if each person does what’s best for him/her as well as what’s best for the couple. So you’re heard it here first – the secret to a successful marriage; from a guy twice divorced and a mentally ill economist.

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Can Comicbook Guy Marry in the Philippines?

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The Philippines expat community is in an uproar and if you are familiar with some of these serious-minded men you know some serious shit must be happening.

Turns out there is a proposed bill in the Philippines legislature that might make it harder for a “foreigner” to marry a Filipina, at least within the Philippines and it’s got some expats quaking in their flip flops.

The bill is sponsored by Cebu Rep. Gwendolyn F. Garcia, who described her measure as a protection against “vagabonds or social and moral derelicts in their own country whose real motive is to abuse Filipino women…to take advantage and exploit our women by making them work for the family and worse, by sending them to prostitution and other degrading and dehumanizing occupations.”

“The exploitation of our Filipino women, through the so-called mail-order or pen-pal, Facebook, website-made, and other internet-made marriages, has not only caused untold miseries and suffering to our Filipino women but it has also brought dishonor and disgrace to the Filipino womanhood,” she said.

Note to self: Don’t disgrace or dishonor Filipino womanhood anymore by asking Janet what she’d like to make for dinner.

Note to self: Don’t disgrace or dishonor Filipino womanhood anymore by asking Janet what she’d like to make for dinner.

If the bill passes they are actually going to require the foreigner husband-to-be to document his income and prove that he is of good moral character.

The uproar among the expats mainly has to do with several areas of distress:

1. Distrust of government. Well, this is a generally good, libertarian type stance, I suppose. The Philippines Government ought to stay out of personal affairs whenever possible (ours certainly does :)), although potential charges of degradation and prostitution is somewhere I expect governments to be very involved – as an equal partner. In this case the guys were more worried that the estimated cost of said documents (1000 pesos = approx. $25) is just one more area where those thieves in Manila are ripping off poor foreigners who can already barely afford their daily ration of San Miguel.

2. That many of the guys in question don’t know what the term “good moral character” means, nor where to buy the document that says they have it.

3. That there is a general lack of respect for foreigners living in the Philippines, many of whom, hard to believe, are viewed as sex tourists. See the above “good moral character” definition.

4. General confusion because no one has used the word vagabond in fifty years and most guys think it has something to do with hitchhikers or backpakers. OTOH, most of the guys didn’t object to the use of the work derelict, which they assumed is used to accurately reflect their drinking habits.

 —–

Since I am already married to my darling Janet and didn’t marry in the Philippines, the proposed law isn’t a big issue for me. But if all my brethren are up in arms than I figure that I had better investigate for the good of the order. Now where’s my bottle opener…

In the midst of my extensive investigation, coincidentally Janet asked me if I was aware of the bill. “Yes, I heard about it. Thank goodness we got married before I had to verify my moral character. And who knew that I was only interested in destroying Filipino womanhood.”

I did finally get around to asking her what she thought of the bill, since after all it would, at least in theory, make it harder for a couple like us to marry.

“I think it’s good,” she replied. “Many foreigners don’t take care of their wives, use them only as maids or treat them like sex slaves.” I may be a bit paranoid, but I didn’t like the look she gave me as she described these ne’er do well foreigner husbands.

“I don’t treat you like a maid,” I replied giggling. She gave me “the look.”

I am also aware that just as the expats are constantly sharing stories of the occasional bad Filipina wife, usually involving murder by bolo, Filipinas are often sharing stories about bad foreigner husbands. Janet often shares these internet stories usually asking me, “Did you hear about this foreigner who sold his wife into slavery in Iowa?”

She can be louder, more aggressive, manipulative, controlling, abrasive, hypersensitive, pfizer viagra sales demanding, cruel, blaming… Like most erectile dysfunction treatments, it can be relied upon to give you hardness where it counts for 4-6 hours (window period when an erection is cialis on line drugstore link possible). RC helicopters are prone to damage if they are not handled well. cheap cialis http://cute-n-tiny.com/tag/jerboa/ The massage therapist, http://cute-n-tiny.com/cute-animals/video-kitten-riding-a-turtle/ order levitra online very carefully presses the soft tissues of the body to thereby achieve avoid increasing cramping sensation and even pain. “Well if it’s in Iowa, he’s not a foreigner,” I’d calmly reply. The “look” would follow.

It took me about a day to complete my attitude adjustment. Apparently I hadn’t drunk enough San Miguels.

So let’s consider the outcome of the proposed law. Of course the following assumes the law passes and furthermore assumes it is thoroughly enforced; and when does that happen? But assuming both conditions, what might happen to Fil-Am marriages in the Philippines?

The guy who promises his girl that he is a rich kano with a $100k job who can take care of her for life, take care of her kids, take care of her family, the neighbors, hell the whole barangay is discovered to be an unemployed phone solicitor with a bank balance of -$127.

The guy who swears to his girl that he has never been married is found to have been married twice and was never exactly divorced – from either wife.

The guy who loves children and can’t wait to have another one with his Filipina fiancé, owes child support dating back to the Clinton administration.

The guy who claims he can retire early in the Philippines due to his business acumen, owes the IRS $250k in back taxes.

The guy who is highly moral and religious and attends mass weekly with his FIlipina, is wanted in five states and by the Feds for grand larceny, racketeering and transporting a white fish across state lines. OK, I stole the white fish bit from Woody Allen – always loved that line. I guess that thievery means I wouldn’t pass the Philippines requirements either.

Not that any of these guys are vagabonds or derelicts. They’re just living the good life in the Philippines.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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How to Find a Philippines Mentor

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Humor Alert: Sorry but there isn’t much. This is a subject I’m serious about, emotional even. I’ll make up for it next time, I promise.

I see and hear about all kinds of guys who go to the Philippines and hate it. Of course tastes aren’t universal and not everyone loves 90 degree heat and 90% humidity as much as I do, so maybe I can’t blame them. White sand and cheap beer is overrated – if you’re a priest or mental case. But when they complain about the women, say they can’t find a good one, say they’re all dumb, and worse still, claim they are all unattractive – well then I scratch my head and wonder whether we visited the same country – or live on the same planet.

Not to be indelicate, but if you are a single Westerner and take an extended trip to the Philippines, or a short trip; hell, even if you do a 10-hour layover, and can’t find a youngish, sweet, bright, fun, and attractive girl to spend time with – then there is something seriously wrong with you, probably either involving mental illness or the fact that you’ve recently passed away and no one’s bothered to tell you.

…if you are a single Westerner and take an extended trip to the Philippines, or a short trip; hell, even if you do a 10-hour layover, and can’t find a youngish, sweet, bright, fun, and attractive girl to spend time with – then there is something seriously wrong with you…

While it seems very easy to me and many of my friends, since it’s not easy for everyone I searched my mind for solutions and finally realized one of the main differences between success and failure; I found a good mentor and most don’t. Here’s my mentor story and how you can find one too.

First let’s talk about why you need a true mentor in the Philippines:

Going to the Philippines and figuring you’ll run into a fellow Westerner who will give you the lay of the land is not a wise idea. Most expats living in the Philippines are either old and cranky (that is older and crankier than I am); drunks; evading the authorities, their ex-wife or their drug dealer back home; or make their living as professional whore mongers. “But Dave, you say that like it’s a bad thing,” I hear you all saying. Point being if you meet a fellow Westerner and sit down for a San Miguel and friendly chat on life in the Philippines, the guy may have no more in common with you than the average inmate in San Quentin, and may well have once resided in a comparable federal facility.

Let’s say you meet a guy (in person or online) who isn’t too bad; he’s long-nosed and white, speaks with your accent, is articulate and doesn’t appear to be a total drunk or evading the law. Does that make him a good mentor? Not necessarily.

I know a well-educated guy living in Manila, who can tell you in great detail every aspect of every girlie bar in EDSA, which is fine if you are interested in finding a bar girl in Manila (and BTW, if you need a mentor for that, you’re beyond hope) but who defines a long-term relationship as “she spent the night.” The point is, you have to find someone on the same page as you. Which means you have to genuinely know yourself well enough to know what you want. Wife, girlfriend, temporary girlfriend, very very temporary girlfriend, catcher’s mitt? Are you interested in the big cities (Manila, Cebu), smaller cities, or provinces? Are you young, middle-aged, old as me, or living in an intensive care unit? Well, you get the idea. While a guy with different goals than you might provide some valuable information, he’s not gonna be a proper mentor to you.

I found my mentor through a circuitous route. As in all modern research methodologies, several years ago I turned to the Internet to find out the best way to discover the joys of foreign women. It led me to a couple of men’s forums. There I chatted with a guy who led me to yet another forum, specifically on living and meeting women abroad. He told me, “the owner of the forum’s nuts, but there is some good information there.”

I visited said forum and found a ton of information, some even useful, and a cast of characters that would fit right in with a pornographic version of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.
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In reading between the lines, there were two guys who appeared to be slightly less deranged than the forum owner and his minions. I contacted both. Turns out that one, Pete, lives a couple hours from me. We connected quickly; as I said above finding someone with similar interests is important. Pete had been married quite a while to his Filipina wife, Cathy, and came off as a very happy guy. He immediately encouraged me to join Cherry Blossoms as a paid member, as he had done years before.

He patiently answered all my questions, which looking back were mostly lame and novice, with genuine enthusiasm for the journey I was beginning. A month later he told me that he and Cathy would be coming though my city and asked if I wanted to meet for lunch. I jumped at the opportunity.

At lunch, the main thing I noticed (other than the fact that Cathy was very attractive) was that even after nearly ten years together they seemed as close as newlyweds; holding hands, cuddling next to each other. I remember having an intense feeling of envy but that feeling reinforced the fact that I was going in the right direction and wanted exactly what Pete had. Well, not exactly; Cathy was taken and Pete’s a lot bigger than me.

Pete stuck with me all the way. I made a mistake or two, which I have documented in other blog postings. But each time he’d guide me in the right direction, confident that I could do it. He was a friend, guide and cheerleader all rolled up into one.

Funny thing is that almost no one else on the forum took him up on his offer to guide them. Perhaps this is men’s nature; the “I can do it myself” male ego. Lucky I was a bit more open.

Two years later, after trials, tribulations and with great excitement, Janet arrived. Not long after, Pete and Cathy came through town and the four of us met over dinner. Janet and Cathy bonded immediately.

Due to the K-1 Visa requirements and our own excitement, our wedding was put together quickly and was to be held in the garden of our neighbor. Since Janet’s family could, of course, not attend I asked her who she might like to walk her down the aisle and without hesitation she responded, “Pete.”

Pete walking Janet

Pete – if you’re reading this – well my words of gratitude seem inadequate. Janet and I owe you so much and I hope our friendship to be a lifelong one.

So guys, if you’re searching for the right girl, find the right guide. They are out there and willing to help. Even Pete and I might lend a hand.

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Viagra Babies and My Impending Dotage and Demise

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When I started this blog I promised it would be irreverent and funny and occasionally informative. Well, today it’s time for some information, though first you’ll have to slog through the other crap.

Last night I was eating dinner with my 18-year old son. We’re talking about some serious stuff mostly regarding his upcoming entry into college and the excitement of leaving home for his next adventure in life. Finally out of the blue he asks, “How much does a funeral cost?” Was he worried about my impending demise, I wondered? Not exactly. He was worried about how much he would have to pay. “After all, mom (my ex) is not gonna pay for it,” he told me.

I thanked him for his concern and assured him I had a good year or two left and then told him honestly that Janet knew my wishes and I did not want a funeral; just to be cremated. “So, how much does an urn cost?” he asked. I considered showing him the final scene from The Big Lebowski, where the Dude and Walter get a coffee can from Ralph’s to carry Donnie’s final remains (and the consequences of that action) but decided that I at least deserved more than a Ralph’s coffee can.

“Urns come in all prices,” I finally said and then assured him that my “estate” could probably manage the cost of an urn.

————

About a week ago I was talking to Janet. She was half joking and said, “You must take good care of me now while you are young because I will be taking care of you in the future.” Once again I assured her that was going to be far into the future, but as a dutiful husband I also assured her I would take care of her now. I also thanked her for the “young” lie.

But this whole age thing is really weird because of the incongruity in my life and marriage. After all, I am 61 which by many standards ain’t exactly young. Frankly, I’m not sure I can even get away with calling myself middle-aged any more. I am constantly referred to as “the old guy” at work. OK, truth be told I used to be referred to as “the old guy.” Now, I suspect I am referred to as the “old guy with the hot and inappropriately young wife.”

And yes, said wife is 26 and in many ways I get to watch her begin adult life, learning about her environment, and the workaday world, in total contrast to my plans to end my foray into the workaday world.

And of course Janet talks often about children. Most of my peers have grandchildren to bounce around and then get rid of at the end of the day. We’re trying to determine how and when to have our own, and whether my hernia will hold up.

And this is really where it gets strange because I believe I have to try to think and act young all the while acknowledging that other reality. You have to balance both realities, while, as the cliche goes, living for today.

This reminds me of a story from my friend Jim. I hope he’ll forgive me for stealing it.
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I was meeting with Jim weekly over beers telling him of my escapades in the Philippines, and of my then girlfriend, Janet. I was encouraging him to check it out. It took some convincing, as well as several chat sessions with a cute Pinay, who was to eventually become his wife, but finally Jim visited the Philippines. He returned to the U.S. and soon after went to a bar to meet a few friends. Arriving a bit late he found his buddies involved in a not so lively discussion – on burial plots. Apparently they hadn’t seen The Big Lebowski. Sizing the morbid situation up he told them, “Here’s what I’m up to,” and pulled out a picture of his hot girlfriend. The burial plot conversation ended.

I don’t know what my point is here exactly. I suppose at my age you can discuss burial plots, funerals and urns or marry a cute Filipina. I know what I chose to do.

————

BTW, to add to the old age theme here, yesterday I was on the phone with Social Security. I have the week off from work and one of the exciting things on my list of things to do was to call Social Security and ask them a few questions and confirm a couple bits of information that I thought I knew. You can’t get much older sounding than to fill your day with a lighthearted call to the Social Security office.

One of those bits of information I confirmed is what some cynical financial planners now call the Viagra Child Plan. It’s a lesser known clause contained in the Social Security bucket. So get ready for the informative stuff!

One of those bits of information I confirmed is what some cynical financial planners now call the Viagra Child Plan. It’s a lesser known clause contained in the Social Security bucket.

Here’s how it works:

If a man or woman begins to collect Social Security retirement benefits, whether at age 62 or beyond, and that said old geezer has a minor child, that child gets the equivalent of 1/2 the codger’s Social Security payment. The child in question can be a natural child, adopted or step-child; doesn’t matter. I am fairly confident that the framers of the Social Security system did not have in mind old farts like me marrying 26-year old Filipinas and then having babies, but what the hell. So the point is, when I begin Social Security retirement benefits, at whatever age, if Janet and I have a young child, that child will receive payments from our friends in the Federal government until he/she is 18 or 19. Isn’t democracy wonderful!

Our plan regarding the money is simple and responsible; we’re going to take those checks and place the money on black at Caeser’s in Vegas! No, no, no. Actually we will put it in a fund for education. That way, whether I am alive or not our child at age 18 will be able to afford college or a cup of coffee, whichever is then cheaper. Or possibly it might pay for my urn.

BTW, once you reach age 61 you will find that you are inundated by invitations to go to free dinners where they discuss your impending Social Security windfall and financial planning. Janet and I went to one. There were about twenty couples in the room and let’s just say, we were unique. The fortyish financial planner went over a large number of Social Security strategies and their ramifications before mentioning the Viagra Strategy. After explaining it, wiseass that I am, I raised my hand and asked if I still got the benefit even if I didn’t use Viagra.

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And They Said It Wouldn’t Last

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Janet and I are just about at our one year anniversary. No, not our wedding anniversary which happens in September, but the one year anniversary of Janet arriving here in Portland and the United States. It’s been a great adventure and we’ve learned a lot, not only about each other but about our respective countries. Here’s a few things we’ve learned:

There are poor, homeless people in the U.S. Yes, it’s true. Coming from the Philippines, where Filipinas are taught that all Americans are rich, it shocked Janet that there are homeless, hungry, and very poor people living here. How can a country as rich as ours have people living on the streets? Frankly, it baffles me too and I can’t explain it to her. It’s outside my scope of experience.

OK, there was the time when I was young and homeless in Santa Cruz, CA, but I was crashing on the beach so that sort of doesn’t count. At least I had the ocean to bathe in.

Why does a hard working girl like Janet earn less than 1/10th of what her lazy-assed husband makes? With no real knowledge of Keynesian economics I can’t explain the relationship between work and compensation. Maybe if I were Milton Friedman…but then I’d be dead. So instead of trying to explain it, we’ve just decided to spend it.

Labor is just a tad bit more expensive here. In our backyard we have the largest oak tree in our neighborhood. It needed extensive trimming and I’d procrastinated the past couple years. Finally I bit the bullet and had the guy I’ve used before come and bid the job, including chipping and hauling away a massive amount of wood. He bid it at $800 which I thought was a bargain. Janet was appalled! This week three laborers wailed away at the tree for an entire day. She simply could not understand why her crazy husband would spend $800 on such an effort, particularly when for the same money we could have bought 80 dresses at H&M.  In the Philippines we would have paid 3 laborers 300 pesos each ($7) to do the work. Of course we’d have to provide them with lunch too. At least I didn’t have to spring for that here.

The cold causes massive cramps. After a few months here I noticed that Janet constantly had muscle cramps. OK, it was fun massaging her but it baffled me. I Goggled it and figured it was some kind of potassium deficiency or something. Finally, we figured it out. Once the fall hit and the temperature went below 60, Janet, unused to anything involving the word cold, would tense up her muscles, like a body builder posing, and by the end of the day she’d cramp up. I would remind her that as the old geezer of the couple, I should be the one requiring daily massages, but that didn’t fly.

What does a real estate agent in the Philippines do? I contacted a real estate agent in Cebu before our April trip. Told him we were just beginning the process of looking, just wanted to see how things worked in the Philippines and were not ready to buy. We set a day to meet and see a few properties in Janet’s home town. The guy shows up with the owner of the properties. The owner, a middle aged Filipina, was what in my culture used to be referred to as a “character.” Of course in the U.S. it’s totally verboten to bring the property owner, but in the Philippines she ran the show and the agent just sat back, said and did nothing. She showed us several properties that were quite nice and in the end asked up which one we wanted to buy. Obviously the agent hadn’t communicate our wishes to her in the least and we found out that…
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A firm price is a fluid concept in the Philippines. Of all the houses we saw, one stood out above the rest. 2800 sq. ft., European construction, large yard and pool, Janet really liked it. Truth be told so did I. Since I have gotten very good at converting pesos to dollars in my head I knew that the “firm” price of 6.5 million pesos was about $150,000. She informed us of several different ways that we could finance the house with no interest. I was a bit annoyed since I was not in buying mode which had clearly been communicate to the agent. Finally to quiet her I said, “If I ever get to the point of buying, I will pay cash.” “Only six million if cash,” she immediate announced.

After we were done we received constant texts from the woman: which house did we like the best, did we want to meet again to discuss, when were we leaving, etc. Finally it was the morning we were leaving Alcoy, heading for Cebu City and our flight home. We were standing on the side of the national highway, waiting for the bus and another text came in. I rolled my eyes. “Just tell her five million,” Janet said. “See what she says. It’ll be fun.” I texted the lady that sorry we were leaving and that Janet runs our finances and reminded me that our budget was no more than five million ($116,000). I figured that would keep her quiet till we got on the plane or she’d counter offer and I’d ignore her. Nope. Within five minutes the text came in; she’d take the five million. Course I still wasn’t buying but it was an interesting experience.

It became even more interesting a few days later when I exchanged correspondence with an online UK friend living in Alcoy, who had coincidentally rented the very same house we saw two years before. He said that she had tried to sell the property to him and his partner, but that maybe she didn’t completely own the land that the house stood on. Something to be careful of if we ever buy property in the Philippines.

Be careful about what you blog about.  Janet has been incredibly supportive of this effort and hasn’t objected to anything I’ve written, which is pretty amazing if you go back and read all my blogs. On the other hand just today I got on the elevator at work and there was my manager’s manager’s manager. A nice guy he immediate mentioned he read a few of my postings. I quickly searched my memory to see if I’d said anything disparaging about my job or employer. Hopefully he realizes that any comment I made about being ridiculously overpaid was a joke 🙂