Buck Fush…
“Never ascribe to conspiracy that which can be adequately explained by incompetence.”
-Napoleon Bonaparte
More on that in a moment. Had a fairly relaxed week…even by my standards. Did some diving…polished off the latest shipments of magazines from home…and drained a few beers. Also did a bit of language study and made some progress on my book. But mostly kicked back and pondered experiences I’ve had lately, and what they mean.
Last year I offered up my humble opinion on ‘the critical human attributes.’ These were pretty simple – I believe my short list comprised 1. the ability to compartmentalize, 2. wit, and 3. grace. There might have been another added later on, I don’t recall. I was prompted to add to this list during the past week, when I spent a couple nights in a local tavern and observed the absence of thoughtful behavior.
The Honeycomb Sports Bar (part of the burgeoning Honeycomb hotel complex) is not a particularly promising establishment, at least when viewed from the street. It’s a newish place, and I suspect most people walk by it numerous times before peeking in. At least that’s what I did. But I finally entered for a beer earlier this week. Fairly nice interior – and a good pool table, the setting for a billiards game between a few foreigners. Sat at the little bar and ordered a beer.
Not 10 minutes later voices rose behind me. Not sure what happened, but it seems one player was accusing the other of poor sportsmanship, and of not honoring a bet. Tempers flared…they got in each other’s face…looked like fistplay was likely. After a few minutes things cooled off. But it was an ugly scene, one between foreigners to boot. And while there are plenty of conflicts between drunken Pinoys in dark bars all over the country, one hopes that we foreign visitors (and residents) behave with more class. Obviously that’s a pipe dream.
While the two lads were screaming at each other, the bartenders/maids and I traded some looks of disgust. The combatants were oblivious to everyone in the bar but themselves, and to me that was the crux of the problem. Some people are completely lacking in self-awareness, or mindfulness, or contextual understanding, or whatever you want to call it. It’s painful to watch these people blunder through their environment. The wake they leave behind is large and threatening.
The more aggressive of the two idiots was in the bar a couple nights later – he walked in with another foreigner a few minutes after I arrived. The fellow is mean-looking and has a countenance that sucks energy from everyone around him. You wonder if he has any clue that he looks so menacing.
By that time my cumulative time in the bar had been enough for all the employees to know my name, and vice versa. It’s pretty interesting – I would estimate that in the past week, since I arrived here in Dumaguete, 50+ locals already know my name, which is often rendered as ‘Sir Michaell’ or ‘Sir Mike.’ Even the employees of the local Internet café know it – and I don’t recall giving it to them. Try to beat that in a Western city. It’s a bit daunting – soon thousands of people will know my name and where I’m staying. I don’t give out that info to everyone I meet, but it’s such a benign town, and people are generally so friendly/passive, that I see no harm.
Anyway…back to the Honeycomb Sports Bar. Within the space of 5 minutes the idiot was in a shouting match with someone – not sure if it was his foreign friend, or with a local. Again, the bartenders and I shared a private joke. I mean, the guy was just oblivious, and he must have some deep-rooted issues to move to anger so often/quickly. I also suspect, based on his brusque treatment of the bar staff, that he’s not the most empathetic person around. Not the sort of person who’s fun to debate – it’s not like he’d bother to walk a mile in your shoes, and challenging him might require the acquisition of a sharp object in advance.
So let’s add self-awareness and empathy to the short (but growing) list of attributes to prioritize. We can consider it a list of characteristics to work on while you’re traveling, meeting all sorts of weird people and having misadventures…
Shifting gears now – caution, screed approaching:
While plowing through my pile of New Yorker back issues, I was struck by a number of insightful pieces – one on Paul Wolfowitz at the World Bank, for example. The article that really got me thinking – and predictably angry – was in the March 26th issue. George Packer wrote a lengthy piece called ‘Betrayed,’ and centered on the Iraqis who supported the US invasion and worked with us after Baghdad fell. These are marked people…and even those lucky enough to lively inside the Green Zone (a declining number) have a target on their back. We are not taking care of these people – much less the entire shattered country – and are yet again proving our lack of empathy and trustworthiness. These people believed the hype about the US and its intentions (and capabilities), and they have truly been betrayed, in action if not in purpose.
The US presence, surge or no, has really shrunken down to the Green Zone, a 10 km section of Baghdad. Outside of that area, the place is hell on earth. And the Green Zone itself is no longer that safe – a bomb went off not long ago at the conference center. To me, what’s truly pathetic is how the Green Zone has become a sad parody of the US itself. It takes 5 signatures to get a copy of Adobe Acrobat. A ‘Baghdad Country Club’ (BCC) bar has sprung up, and is selling roomfuls of booze to the denizens of the Zone. And – get this – Halliburton recently sponsored a ‘Middle Eastern Night,’ because you really can’t leave the Zone to go out and enjoy a night in Baghdad itself. Packer quoted a US Embassy employee as calling the Zone ‘a bizarre arena of paperwork and booze.’ Has President Bush spent a few minutes checking this out?
You might call the invasion a complete mistake, or you might call it a good idea executed poorly. I’d choose the former – I don’t think it made an iota of sense, and I don’t think we could have ever pulled it off. But at this point we’re in ths shit, and need to find a way out…hopefully without completely screwing our friends there (see US Embassy, Saigon, 1975) and having the country blow up. I laugh whenever I read an article by someone claiming that things aren’t that bad – this bridge has been rebuilt, these students are now in school, etc. Talk about putting lipstick on a pig. Packer’s article had some more relevant, and disturbing, measures, including these:
-Approximately 1 million Iraqis now ‘live’ in Syria. Many of the Iraqi women have become prostitutes to make a living.
-As of summer 2006, about 40,000 Iraqis were emigrating each month – and guess which layer of society was leaving the fastest.
It was the kind of article that makes you want to see heads roll – not Iraqi heads, of course. And evidence that the situation is deteriorating is all around, and being shared. I download a number of podcasts, and one of the PBS podcasts had an interview with an Iraqi fellow still living in Baghdad, who believes it will take 50 years for the country to get back to ‘normal.’ Who knows if that’s right…but you can safely say that it’s from the horse’s mouth, not Bush’s. How depressing…for what’s happening on the ground in Iraq, for the larger geopolitical implications, and certainly because heads aren’t rolling in Washington, despite widespread incompetence and even malfeasance. Makes me wish that Bush the Elder suffered some trauma in WW2 that prevented him from reproducing…
I absolutely agree that we need to be energetic in combating our fundamentalist enemies, wherever they are. But I think that intelligence and special ops are generally a lot more sophisticated and effective – and a better ROI – than starting full-scale wars that may actually decrease our security, and certainly empty our Treasury. The methods are what’s in question here.
Well, enough of that for now. I’ve vented…but reserve the right to do so periodically when I get pissed off.
Went out to the acclaimed Apo Island for some diving. My friend Mike, who has a dive shop in town, brought a few of us out in his boat, and we had a couple very nice dives on the reefs there. Between dives, we had lunch up on a hill overlooking one of the beaches, at Liberty’s Dive Resort. The restaurant offered something called ‘Seafood Shepherd’s Pie’ which turned out to be a winner. All 6 of us had it. Then another dive.
Have been staying in touch with date #2 from my recent Cebu trip (see last week’s entry for basic details). In fact, right now I’m on a ferry back to Cebu to see her for a couple nights. Am looking forward to that – she’s very cute and lots of fun. More details may be forthcoming shortly. The funny thing is that date #1 keeps text-messaging me, and demonstrates decent tactical abilities. Her most recent text came last Saturday night, at 8 p.m. Precisely when I’d likely be out somewhere, having fun, causing trouble, she kicks in with a ‘hi, what r u doing 2nyte’ text that breaks my flow and is a bit annoying. Perhaps the intention was purely benign – but I tend to doubt it, given that many Filipinas are a jealous sort and would go through your mobile’s past text messages if you were at dinner and went to the bathroom. Be warned, intrepid travelers. Cultural differences do exist.
That very same Saturday night I was behaving myself, so wasn’t feeling any guilt. Went to the Honeycomb Sports Bar, where I got embroiled in a karaoke frenzy with a group of locals who all play tennis over behind the provincial capitol building (striking building). The songs were random – Mandy by Barry Manilow (good thing I was on a brief Manilow kick last year), All Night Long by Lionel Richie (too hard to hit the high notes), and Wonderwall by Oasis. Good fun, and the staff joined in. More fun than playing pool. A couple of the barmaids are cuties – one has nice cocoa-colored skin and wears blue eyeliner, and the contrast is alluring. I think I’ve just determined why I’m showing up at that bar so often…but I’d better be careful, I’m going native and getting myself involved in relationships that might be hard to unwind…
Of course, my life isn’t entirely hanging out in bars and chasing local women. I know that does sound worthwhile and fulfilling, and it often is. But for some reason I feel the need to expand my knowledge and abilities, and push things along. For example, I’m in the process of getting my Advanced Open Water diving certificate with my friend Mike here. While the course is not challenging (you just need to do 5 different ‘adventure’ dives), I have learned a good amount here and in the past few weeks of diving, and I feel a hell of a lot more comfortable diving now – there’s almost a Zen-like calm that I often don’t see in other divers.
I’m also trying to become a more adept motorbike operator – I rented a bike here, and my nighttime rides to cool off remind me of being in Goa last year. Having a bike is key here – if you don’t, you’re pretty much stuck to where your legs can carry you, or you need to have a precise destination in mind, and haggle with trike drivers. Not much fun, and certainly not free and easy. Today, before getting on the ferry, I had a spare hour so just jumped on the bike and sped off into the suburbs, near the tiny airport and the fields. Negros Island is beautiful, with a mountainous center that I want to explore in coming weeks. Have decided to cap off my month here with an additional week spent riding around Negros’s perimeter – there are a few places I’d like to see, so will do that last week of May.
When I’m back in Boston in early August, I’m taking a 2-day Basic Motorcycle Rider Education course at Otis Air Force base in Bourne, Mass. I already got my learner’s permit in February – that was a simple 20-question test at the Registery of Motor Vehicles in Boston. The beauty of taking the course in August is that, assuming I pass, my license is a done deal – no need to take a test with the Registery. While that entity has become slightly less insane to deal with, it’s still best avoided.
Spent a day with Mike and another gringo, Steve, checking out real estate around the town of Daiun, south of Dumaguete. Steve already has a house down there, and Mike is looking. We combined the search with a dive in Dauin, after lunch, which we had at the house of a Japanese expat named Naga, who is an avid fisherman. Lunch consisted of the usual Filipino dishes – rice, adobo, etc. – and a few fish from Naga’s catch. Delicious. Then we went diving and saw some of the same fish underwater. A remora attached itself to Mike’s fin, and after he brushed it off the damn thing followed us for a half-hour. Wasn’t large or dangerous, but slightly unnerving. I turned to watch it now and then, and there it was, hovering nearby. When we moved to shallower water near shore, later, it took off.
Was set up with a couple Dumaguete women, courtesy of a friend of mine. Met one near Quezon Park on Monday night. She was rather young, and came with a friend of hers – whom I dubbed ‘the bodyguard.’ It’s either cute, or annoying – oftentimes first meetings here involve some sort of chaperone. Anyway, we talked for a while – the 3 of us – and they asked me about a million questions, which I dutifully answered, and finally we parted ways. Good enough. Made tentative plans to meet in a few days, when back from Cebu. Then the weirdness began. The chaperone, a homely lass, sent me a text (she had my mobile # because her friend – my ‘date’ – was using it to set up our rendezvous), and kept texting me during the night. She was smitten, it seems. I was not encouraging, but didn’t completely shut her down. Then, next morning, a text came through at 6:30 a.m. and woke me up. That was it. My response was withering and I haven’t heard back from her – thankfully.
The other ‘date’ was straightforward. She manages an Italian restaurant near my hotel, so we met there. She couldn’t leave her post, and I was hungry. They have decent Italian red and white wine so sat there chatting with her, going through a large bottle. Bought her a glass of red and she took a while to get through it – my pace was decidedly more rapid. Enjoyed hanging out with her, and made plans to go to ‘Reggae Night’ this Friday at the Hayahay Bar uptown. Was conscious of the fact that I’m now juggling at least 4 developing relationships. They’re spread out, but the Dumaguete interactions have the potential to intersect and that wouldn’t be good. Feels like I’m going through a second round of high school, with very different rules of engagement. Plus the mad chaperone is still out there, somewhere. Hopefully not spying on my hotel…
Went diving the next day with Steve, the American. Did a drift dive from the beach, survived the hellacious current, and we emerged from the ocean right in front of his house in Daiun. Cool. His wife and her various relatives had been cooking for hours and not long after we came in, a huge lunch was set out and we gorged. Steve’s a good guy, originally from Boston but has also lived in Colorado, and is now spending most of his time in the RP. We agreed it’s hard to top the standard of living here.
Went for a run that night. Dumaguete has a nice long beachside promenade, good for running and catching a breeze. The locals stare at you all the while – but I’ve seen a couple local runners and I imagine that the stare is now largely due to my white skin, and not the running itself. The concept of breaking a sweat voluntarily is still novel around here – although basketball is big and the games are semi-violent. But hoops is a team game and differs from the solitary struggle of running…
While walking from hotel to promenade (Rizal Boulevard) I passed by two dogs humping. Perhaps not a once-in-a-lifetime sight…but also not something you tend to see that often, and I am drawn to the raw, salacious aspects of life. Stopped and watched for a couple minutes – never know when you can pick up a few pointers. And there were a few Filipinos hanging around, too, watching the exhibition. The male had an impressive mounting technique, but after a half-minute or so of action would dismount and sit for a minute. A little too quick to finish, and sure enough he’d get back on for another ride, again fairly short. The (presumably) female, meanwhile, didn’t look like she was bothered either way. That went on for a few minutes, and then I got bored and walked on. Compared what I’d seen with my own predilections and decided that I wouldn’t be modifying my approach.
As I reached the promenade and started and stretch, I looked out and saw a few fishing boats being pushed by swimmers into the surf. The beach is pretty rocky and it was high tide (sometimes the waves come up over the seawall), and getting the boats out didn’t look easy. Not sure why they were going out at 7 p.m., but there they were. I looked up and saw a milky moon poking through a linen-like layer of soft clouds. I was reminded of the Tom Hanks film Cast Away, particularly the scene in which Hanks finally gets over the reef and off the island using a sheet of plastic as a sail. It’s a film I ponder not infrequently…
Have been following the baseball and basketball seasons on the Web. Red Sox are rocking, but it’s still early days. Meanwhile, the NBA playoffs have been interesting, and some upsets seem likely. More commentary next week as things develop.
No photos this week – left my camera in Dumaguete. Which reminds me – I’ve checked out a few other blogs in recent weeks, and mine seems among the most text-heavy. Some blogs are little more than photo albums with text captions. And that’s perfectly line. I’m generally happy with how my Slog’s evolved – but realize that the vast majority of my photos have not been shared. I’m too lazy to sit down and upload them all to Flickr or similar sites…so for now you’re stuck with what I decide to upload each week. This is not a democracy, friends. Over and out.
Tags: Travel
mbsloney
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