2018 or earlier – Page 3

Jump in a taxi

I felt a curious internal warmth during the early morning Air Asia flight from KL to Clarke International Airport in Pampangas, Philippines. A warmth, I think, derived from pleasant memories of previous trips to Manila and the friendliness of almost every acquaintance I have made in that heavily populated, hot, busy, polluted city.

Previous visits had either been made on business or to stay with friends. This visit was going to be different. Situations change. My close lady friend of previous years had chosen to find a marrying type and another friend had finished a work contract and downsized accomodation while he looked for another work opportunity in the region.

I was an independent traveller again fending for myself completely on the transport and accommodation scene in Manila.

I had pre-booked the first night at the Isabelle Royal Hotel which is actually more of a Condotel at the northern end of Makati Avenue.

From Clarke International airport the routine is straightforward. 350 peso secures a comfortable seat on a Partas or Philtranco bus terminating at Pasay. About the nearest point to Makati on the route into Metro Manila.

The fun starts at Pasay. There is no shortage of taxi drivers desperate, for some reason, to take me to my desired destination. I have two simple questions for them. Can you take me to Isabelle Royal Hotel, Makati Avenue and will you use the meter. The answer to the first question is always yes. The answer to the second question is either 200 or 250 peso. So I walk away from them. One youngish Manny Pacquaio look alike (they all try, but this one seemed more successful than most) came after me calling ‘Sir, SIR’.. I looked round and he said ‘OK we use the meter’. In the car he is less than amiable presumably because he has to use the meter.

I don’t think we did a particularly long, round about tour of Metro Manila to arrive in Makati Avenue possibly because I had make a couple of remarks designed to suggest I knew where we should be going. As the 20 minute journey progressed it appeared I had more idea than he did of the area and location of the Isabelle. He tried so hard to be unhelpful it was laughable.

We got to within what I thought was a couple of streets of the hotel location and I said ‘stop please, I’d like to get out here’. I knew we’d never actually get to the street where the hotel was. The meter showed 150 peso and I didn’t feel the slightest inclination to give him a peso more. Unfortunately I was not well prepared and the closest I could get was a 500 peso note. Manny went one round ahead. He has no change of course. ‘Never mind… Hang on’ was my response and grabbed my valuables bag but left my clothes bag in the taxi and visibly enquired at a couple of the nearby outlets for change of my 500 peso note. The first couple of enquiries couldn’t help.

I heard a car horn and the taxi was trickling toward me with another fare on board, possibly a stooge. The nearside front window was down and I looked in to see wad of notes in his hand. Manny said ‘200?’; I replied..’the meter said 150′. He said ‘ok’, took my 500 note and passed me four notes in change… three hundreds and another note tucked in between the hundreds. I opened the door and took my clothes bag from the front passenger seat with a ‘Jeeez, I don’t need this shit’ air about me. I dropped the bag to the pathement and peered down at the cash through a haze of carbon monoxide exhaust gas. There was 320 peso in my hand! Manny wins on points. My internal warmth had evaporated. Welcome to Manila from your average Philippino taxi driver.

Isabelle Royal was around the next corner and twenty paces down the road. Please let this be a pleasant experience.

Festive Shift

I chose the 9th to the 16th January for my festive season break because I have come to detest jams, queues, crowds, and the increased noise and air pollution that peak period holidays bring to a ‘break’. Break.. how apt! Break, it probably would do, certainly spiritually and probably financially too. Most holidaymakers are easily herded into the tour operators dream mindset of: ‘we’ve paid a lot for this holiday so we must enjoy a lot’ (and to enjoy a lot, a lot more is paid at the destination for a rich variety of rich foods, a rich variety of outings and day trips at prices for the rich, and everything else in between at a peak season premium designed to ‘break’ you and make the locals rich).

So with my slightly mal-aligned festive season break I was hoping that I would not be broken. The break I needed was a break from the slog and monotony of routine and quite honestly the boredom of Ipoh.

Ipoh to Hat Yai via the New Hoover bus company cost me RM40 and six to seven hours bed rest. Arrival in Hat Yai , the closest Thai town to the Malaysia Thai border occurred at an unearthly hour that became positively cosmic when one remembers that Thailand live an hour behind Malaysia. In an aimless wander away from the Hat Yai New Hoover office I veered into the third early morning breakfast operation to appear in the street. Coffee and a bowl of noodle soup (to rival the best in Ipoh!) were consumed and left me feeling rather pleased to be in Hat Yai again.

Vague, hazy, early morning, time killing research into my plan to follow the Hat Yai visit with onward travel to Krabi and Ao Nang produced the, also pleasing, bi-product of a deal at the Hat Yai New World hotel of 450 Thai baht for a room with air con, attached bathroom, hot water, tv, fridge, clean and firm bed, but no b’fast. Another benefit of off peak holidaying.

I always enjoy the retail therapy experience of Hat Yai. However after the mind petrifying experience of Malaysian clothes and shoe wear shopping it doesn’t take a lot. Hat Yai food and beer are also a pleasure and a step function improvement over Malaysia tooooo! Wake up Malaysia!!!

Despite the Hat Yai pleasure, depart I had to, and the next day was transported from the New Hoover office ( a block away from the New World Hotel) to the bus station by Sao in her Honda Jazz. Apparently she is in league with the New Hoover organisation and obviously earnt something of the 300 Thai baht I paid for the 12.30 (which turned out to be the 13.30) aircon bus to Krabi.

A forty minute TUK TUK (a large tuk tuk) ride from Krabi bus station to Ao Nang brought me to within what I hoped would be no more than thirty minutes of having moderate cost accommodation at a modest walk from the beach.

I walked from the beach road east up the gentle incline amongst the bristling and not so gentle but inclined to be in your face commercialism of a much changed Ao Nang. It had everything that I could remember feeling disappointed to see in Chaweng on Koh Samui six years ago. MacDonalds, 7-11’s, Starbucks and a host of other franchised chain’s all bringing their own brand of western commercialism to what otherwise could be an eastern paradise. Ao Nang’s twee-ness was disappearing fast.

The fourth accommodation enquiry was at a place called Adams bungalows. Adams bungalows are set in half a football pitch size, well maintained garden of palms, shrubs, a pond and winding paths. Creating a pleasant ‘back to nature’ feel that I welcome so much in my life, particularly in this instance after the commercial lashing I had sustained during the twenty minute walk up through Ao Nang toward Adams bungalows.
I didn’t need anything fancy and was satisfied with a negotiated 450Thai baht per night for a clean firm bed, attached cold water only bathroom, fan, no tv, no fridge, no aircon, no b’fast deal. One night changed to three nights and then four… there may even be a fifth.

The days were sunny, very hot and spent between the beach and the book , the beach side restaurant and the book and the internet and no book. Western food choice is blazing and in many cases good quality too (I had to make the most of the terrible appearance of those beastly western franchise operations!!). Mostly because of its comparative scarcity in Malaysia I was attracted to the Western food more than the Thai food.

I have detected an air of irritation and dissatisfaction amongst Thai business owners and workers. I hear more westerners expressing concern at prices and I suspect that the decline in the strength of European currencies against Asian currencies make it a little tougher for the westerner to holiday here in the style they were accustomed to. Thailand needs tourists. Will they wake up to the realities of the new global financial situation or just keep raising their prices and only realise their mistake when their customers have found new locations to holiday. The latter I suspect. Greed is a terrible thing. Nevertheless they have had a good run.

Header photo is of Adams Bungalow’s.

Air Asia – loathing increases

Air Asia…get organised!!! As a consumer I have a love Hate (little l, big H) relationship with you that continues to slither toward hate.

Travel within South East Asia definitely took a leap into the era of accessibility with the advent of Air Asia. One of the first Air Asia flights I remember taking was from Hat Yai in Thailand to Kuala Lumpur almost five years ago in early January 2005. The plane was two hours late arriving into Hat Yai and 3 hours late departing. There were leather seats, I remember, but they were a mixture of shapes and colors that gave one the impression the plane had been purchased at a used plane dealer and then ‘souped up’ to fit the demands of it’s new owner which, I suppose, it probably had!

Several months back I had, a long time in advance of the travel date, booked a trip back to the UK. It was via a Singapore Airlines night flight departing from Singapore at around midnight. I thought I would try to ease my travel burden from Ipoh, Perak, Malaysia to Singapore by flying Kuala Lumpur to Singapore on Air Asia’s evening flight. The flight would arrive in Singapore at around 21.30hrs if my memory serves me correctly. It gave me a full two and half hours to collect my luggage, transit from terminal to terminal if necessary and check in for the long haul flight to London. Forever positive, I was convinced it could work.
The last piece of the jigsaw for the passage from Ipoh to London was finally pressed into place with the purchase of a YoYo Travel bus ticket for the Ipoh to Kuala Lumpur leg. Everything was fitting together nicely and I was hoping for a pleasant, restful nights sleep before the Ipoh departure.
Air Asia had a different idea! Clearly realising they had a reputation to uphold they chose to press their relationship with me a few more degrees toward hate along that travellers line of emotional imbalance. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr. In the middle of the night (past midnight) prior to my departure Air Asia informed me of the re timing of the Kuala Lumpur to Singapore flight. It was pushed out over an hour and I was informed of it by a post midnight sms!! Fuzz!!! It meant my time for that luggage collection/transit/check in process at Singapore would be reduced to one and a half hours if everything went smoothly. I couldn’t risk it! Between waves of frustration, disappointment and anger that evoked room pacing in a black mood and underpants, I slept very little.
By 08.00hrs in the morning I had embarked on an all or nothing plan B. A different Ipoh bus company made a daily trip to Singapore departing early morning. At 08.15 in their booking office I was able to purchase a ticket. However I had to pay a taxi surcharge to have him race to the second pick up point as I was just too late to make the bus departure from the booking office… the buses start point. I made it. The bus trip was very pleasant. I had to forego my Yo Yo bus fare, my Air Asia Kuala Lumpur – Singapore flight fare but at least I made it comfortable time to catch the long haul.

Karma spurned compensation created an otherwise smooth journey and my time in the UK was fantastic; no thanks to Air Asia.
The image at the top of this article is from Bath… a city of history and architecture not far from my home town in the UK.

Ketsana!

I have a friend in Manila whom I have never met. T.S. are her initials. Cajole is her middle name. Then Ketsana arrived. 36 hrs of the heaviest storm to hit the Philippines in four decades, 80 people already reported dead and an estimated 250,000 displaced from their devastated homes I chatted to her on facebook chat and her sister was out of reach in the most submerged region.. Rizal province!!! The following day her work organised their own search and rescue activities. Today I have had this yahoo IM chat with her…

Me
got the message about your sis….great news ugh?! 10:37
are you busy celebrating? 10:45

TS
@ work now. Just relieved dat she’s safe although not totally okay. Her place was flooded. We brought rescue & relief teams yesterday & today to our affe 11:04
cted officemates & their families. Of course, family comes first! We’ve seen worst along da way. It’s really heartbreaking. Indescribable. Never seen qui 11:04
te like it before. The damage, was enormous. Aaaarrrhh! ;-( 11:04

Me
mmmm it’s grim isn’t it and sad too 11:08
I see the death toll is now reported as being toward 100 11:09
is it still raining? 11:09

TS
Really sad. I’m happy my sis is safe but sad 4 others who arent so lucky. No more raining here. Its sunny actuali. Storm was a great equaliser i shud say 11:17
. It didnt matter whether ur rich or poor or whether u drive a millions worth of suv or just a plain jeepney. They were all floating in da same muddy h2o 11:17
. And da houses too. It can be replaced alryt. Still is good to be alive. 11:17

Me
your sis may experience some trauma affect… Not my business but I would have her stay with you or other family member for a week 11:20
just my thought 11:21
anyway I guess you have some catching up to do at work 11:21
I will let you attend to all that stuff and catch up with ya again soon 11:21

TS
Ok thanks. Good day. 11:30

**********************************************************************************

I feel happy yet sad toooooo!! Now the death toll is at 240.

Night Mission

Long Haul jet lag was a bitch until I had to rise sharply and alertly from a light sleep at 2.40am on the morning of the 8th August 09. I was whisked off through the fresh dark empty night in a black 3 Series BMW like a spy on a covert mission of inter-planetary importance. My darling daughter, as mission controller, skilfully navigated the undercover route and penetrated the perimeter security of the closet low cost carrier airport – Bristol. Bristol airport at 4.15am had an air of reluctance about it. Apparently, only forlorn persons with half open eyes and tousled hair were being admitted. Generally we fitted the bill well. Little was being said. Propulsion was derived from the prospect of sunny days, golden beaches, tapas, and the fun of a foreign language.

My party were a trio. On two seperate flights to the same destination. Alicante in Spain. Rach and Stu’s Thompson flight departed around the 6am mark and my Ryan Air flight departed at 6.40am. The two hour flight plus hour time difference brought me bouncing to the tarmac just before 10am on a warm sunny Spanish morning. I haven’t witnessed applause at a successful landing of a modern jet aircraft for years and I wondered if the pilot had been bet by the co pilot that he couldn’t get applause for his landing. That was surely the reason he bounced the machine far too late onto the runway then in a frenzy of hold those horses activity had the reverse thrust roaring like a lion as the michelins were stretched to the limit between tarmac and tons of de accelerating bones,flesh and metal. The Ryan Air pilot must have been Spanish but got his pay, his on time delivery bonus, some applause from the cabin and, I suspect, an extra tenner from the co-pilot.

In a Latino fling of carefree dismissiveness Alicante airport was without immigration or customs officers, AND my (undamaged!) bag was in the first truck from the apron so, within minutes of departing the aircraft, I was wandering through the Alicante Airport wondering where the other two of my traveller trio had taken up hiding. To my surprise they weren’t playing that ‘lets watch to see what he does when he can’t find us’ game and I found them draped raggedly across the end of a row of chairs amongst stand up cases with extended handles and discarded fleeces in an arrival hall at the normal landing end of the airport buildings. We’d wandered back through half of the airport and out into the arrivals pick up area before someone remembered about mobile phones. A brief exchange over the airwaves with a ‘Spanish’ member of the Fegredo family assured us that we would not be subject to that age old game of ‘lets see what they do when they aren’t picked up’ and within minutes a fit, tanned, younger version of Omar Shariff climbed out of a Toyota Prius that had glided quietly into a parking space within feet of us. Stu’s Dad’s welcome was warmer than the Spanish morning and spread a smile on our presence more smoothly than warm butter on toast.

Twenty minutes of Toyota Prius gliding over a mix of intercity highway ‘quality’ roads and more Spanish style, bumpier rural access routes ultimately brought us to the Fegredo residence at an urbanisation around a village called La Marina. Jeff left us in no doubt about how proud he was of his palace and proud I would have been too! On a 400square meter plot Jeff and his wife Yo had created a Spanish bungalow style habitat that mixed easy living with functionality and comfort. Complemented by an 8 meter long pool at the rear the gardens were shrub driven and eco friendly providing a mix of colour, scents for warding off mozzy’s, scents for deep breaths at dusk and dawn, and security…bloody sharp spiky affairs along the inside of the front wall!

Hi, Bye Had Yai

Rm75 return fare for the coach to Had Yai from Ipoh tethered my travel plans. I departed from the New Hoover coach office in Jalan Yang Kalsem at 1.45am on Thursday the 23rd July 09. I would meet my friend in Had Yai, mid morning at Had Yai Junction. Not a pub, a railway station! And so it unfolded. A pleasant two night, three day visit to Had Yai in southern Thailand. We ate, drank, sang, danced, walked, shopped, spat rice, perused hotels and generally had a great time. The weather was kind to us with fine days and temperatures a little lower than the Malaysian scorchers.

Had Yai hotels ranged from the perfectly acceptable Num Huat in Thanon Inpatuthit 3 at 300 baht per night for a room with twin or double bed, aircon, tv, and fridge and own bathroom; 350 baht per night for a similar room but with no fridge at the Tong Num in Trok Sukonthahong near to the Seven Eleven; unattractive options at the Metro Hotel and the Park Hotel for 360 and 400 baht a night respectively; then on up through a selection of mid range options with the Cholatern at 450 baht per night, the Indra at 500 baht per night, the Yong Dee at 580 baht per night, the Sakol at 680 baht per night and the Grand Tower with it’s own swimming pool at around 900 baht per night. Every hotel had rooms available on this Thursday morning.

Seemingly run by football team of brothers, we ate superb food at a ‘Thai name only’ restaurant behind the Grand Tower hotel. Hauling our full tummies to the livelier of the two central live music venues, Deep Wonder, situated (steeply but not particularly deeply) below the now defunct Odean Shopping Centre was a small matter well worth the effort. Deep Wonder’s happy atmosphere and moderately priced beer kept us smiling through a medley of numbers from it’s talented resident band that included, Dire Straights’ Money for Nothing, Rolling Stones’ Honky Tonk Woman, Pink Floyd’s Another Brick in the Wall, Boy George’s Carma Carmelion, U2’s With or Without You and many many more.

Full marks to Had Yai for a creating a scene that far exceeds anything that similar sized towns in Malaysia have to offer. Malaysia still has a lot to learn (from Thailand) if they wish to increase tourist revenue!!! The photo shows hawkers on the Had Yai Junction railway platform.

Malaysian ‘news’

In an attempt to spur the local economy the Malaysian Consumers Association organised a “Buy Nothing Day”.
Visitors to the capital, Kuala Lumpur, will pay approximately double the current fare from August 1st 2009 for the pleasure of being ripped off by the ignominious taxi driver community.
A 5.36 meter long whale shark was towed to Kuala Muda jetty by self deluding fisherman who made the ‘dead’ catch 50 nautical miles out in Penang waters.
Building site safety practises were being revisited after an Indonesian plasterer slashed a supervisors throat in Mont Kiara, Kuala Lumpur.
Politicians aide found dead as Malaysian anti corruption commission continue enquiries into alleged abuse of state allocations by ‘role model’ politicians.
Middle aged Bahasa Melayu word creators not redundant after all. Maths and Science teaching medium reverts BM. Of course it makes sense.
At a Manchester United v Malaysian football match in Kualar Lumpur more Malaysian supporters were expected to be wearing Man U. colours than Malaysian colours!

More Metro Manila fact

I just got some info from a friend on air quality in Metro Manila. The world health organisation suggests that to prevent ill health air pollution should be at less than 20 micrograms of particulate matter per cubic meter. Long term exposure to a pollutant level of 70 micrograms of particulate matter per cubic meter or greater significantly increases the risk of contracting a respiratory related illness. Metro Manila has an average of 138, the dirtiest is the stretch of Edsa with 282, over 3 times the w h o target. It’s probably not a good idea to live around Edsa.
Interesting data at http://www.portfolio.mvm.ed.ac.uk/studentwebs/session4/27/citydiff.htm

I don’t know Brough.

His taller than average height, burly build and dark coarse unkempt hair was his camouflage for a sincere and sensitive heart. The slightly overlength blue jeans and very short sleeved body huggin tee added the gravel that peaked out that tough man image. He was clearly western. In Asia he turned heads. Mostly female. All young and on bodies jangling with hormones that jangled still further with Brough in their vision. Brough belied his image. He wasn’t a steel erector or a mountaineer. He was a clever and sensitive writer.
I last read his work in a short story submitted to a writers periodical dedicated to award consideration.
In the style of introversion.
The principal character, Brough’s brother, Barrge, had submitted his heart to a Philippina. She was young and attractive; a generation lesser than Barrge. Brough adeptly relayed Barrge’s emotional dilemmas as the relationship, aggravated by distance and teased by culture, convulsed through a storm of dramas each with their own circumstantial twist and intrigue. Barrge was focused on creating a business for their combined future in a neighbouring country. Brilliantly, the character signatures were scribed by Brough’s deft hand. Barrge’s difficulty in interpreting his Philippina’s behavioural characteristics including anomolies such as indesire or inability to communicate in times of difficulty, a desire to literally run from conflict and confrontation, and an insatiable appetite for material gratification were delightfully relayed to beguiled readers. Brough’s tale simmered toward an awesome conclusion as Barrge’s Philippina announced, on what was to be Barrge’s last visit to her home town, her intention to marry an internet suitor. Her underhand deceit and wideangle immorality were cleverly used by Brough to illustrate Barrge’s sincerity and honesty. In the penultimate twist she declares herself pregnant to the remote Barrge with Barrge’s child. An early term miscarriage (?) brings Barrge to the edge of emotional free fall as Brough’s pen cascades toward the punishing finali. No less than three weeks after the miscarriage the still remote and emotionally bedraggled Barrge is informed of his Philippina’s new live in lover, by her sms. Barrge’s pain becomes his strength and Brough’s talent with the written word paints a colourful and indelible image of Barrge mixing realisation with release to close the darkroom door and turn to face a new, bright, exciting future.

Then I realised that Brough was an only child and up until recently he’d had a girlfriend abroad. So… that’s the style of introversion. Please read the title again.

Manilan, Philippines observations.

A Philippine shop worker/sales assistant in Manila earns around 50 peso and hour and works 8-10hrs a day, 6 days a week making a gross income of around 12000 peso a month or 150 UK pounds.

A four station trip on the Manila MRT will cost around 10peso. A taxi ride for a foreigner for a similar length trip is likely to cost around 200 peso.

Taxi’s use a meter system that appear to be operational most of the time, however be prepared for the taxi driver to ask for the meter plus 50 peso in heavy traffic which is most of the time in Manila.

San Miguel Pale Pilsen beer costs less than 30 peso for a 320ml bottle in the supermarket. The same size bottle will sell for double that price in an average bar/restaurant. Still good value and a third to half of the cost of a similar amount in Malaysia.

Air pollution in Manila is high. There are no vehicle exhaust regulations applied that I know of. Grey sticky bogies testify.

Manila weather in June is variable with frequent high winds and heavy rain. June is the middle of the three or four month typhoon season. I recall visiting via a flight from Malaysia at this time of the year a few years back and feeling increasingly nervous as the pilot saw fit to abort not one landing attempt but two due to high winds and torrential rain at the airport.

The people are vibrant, energetic and happy. There is a clear live for today and worry about tomorrow, tomorrow mentality.

There is a strong Latino element in their inherited character producing much musical talent and dance desire and ability.

There are over 7100 islands. If the question of precisely how many islands make up the Philippines is asked of locals one will often receive the reply of.. ‘when the tide is in or out?’

The food grows on you and deposits itself within you being wrought with saturated fats due to pork and pork skin and fat content. Pinakbet, sizzling sisig and adobo dishes are musts.

Rice is the backbone of the Philippinos basic diet.

Alcohol consumption is unlimited.

Philippine Shopping Mall mentality leads Asian Shopping Mall mentality. Operations like the SM Megamall in Ortigas and the Roxas Boulevard Mall of Asia are pristinely presented and attract huge numbers of people.

Walled and guarded communities are a way of life. Poverty and city ‘street people’ are also a way of life hence the walled and guarded communities.

The many beautiful locations away from Manila are not easy to get to requiring many hours of overland and ferry travel even after internal flights of which there is a wide selection. A natural deterrent for the foreign short break tourist and a natural aid in maintaining the final frontier feeling of many of the locations.

The US occupation of the country has helped to create the most ‘English’ speaking nation in the region.