Lone Gopher

This is Sweden - The movie

2007-09-27T03:16:00.000+08:00

Here's a 4-minute promotional clip about Sweden called 'Open skies, open minds' published on Sweden's offial homepage.

http://www.sweden.se/templates/cs/Article____17737.aspx

It had some press here since it includes some girl/girl action (don't blink, and no, no nudity. Dang). Otherwise it's....well, see what you think.

Some comments from sweden.se:

Signature: hannah, 26/9 08:02
The images are too short! If you didn't know beforhand that it was Sweden- you hardly have a chanse to notice it...

Well...yeah. That's pretty accurate. Who does, really? (It's also nice to know that someone out there spells worse than I do.)

Signature: Anna L., 25/9 23:11
As a Swede i found it a little disappointing, it was a bit like watching random slides from a neighbours vacation or something. The pictures didn't tell a story together, they just feelt random. like "Lets take som faces and put them with som naturepictures", no soul, no feeling, no humor, just some random photos

I agree and pity Anna's neighbours. Hope their holidays turn out better next year.

/J.

Rewarding thievery

2007-09-02T04:07:00.000+08:00

This is an old story that I found while sorting through some stuff I brought up from the basement.

It takes place in the early summer of 2000, when I was living in a room in C's apartment on Bjurholmsplan in Stockholm. I was having brunch with old-time friend N down in the small courtyard-like garden that had been wedged in between four seven-storey buildings. We were just about to start when a man carrying a pack of cigarettes comes out from a back door, apparently to have a smoke.

He asks if he can join, which he naturally can.

None of us have yet noticed that he is drunk as a skunk. Later we will be told that this man is the notorious Nisse, an on-and-off alcoholic who lives in the apartment above C. Nisse who watches Jeopardy with the volume cranked up so high you can guess the answers from C's apartment. Nisse who puts up signs in the elevator asking people not to smoke there and then happily puffs away himself. Nisse who gets so furious when C asks him not to roll his cigarettes (and spill tobacco) outside his door that he sends totally incomprehensible hate letters. But of this we know nothing yet.

That he's drunk becomes apparent rather quick. He is, when all said and done, not very keen on smoking (maybe he already had one in the elevator) but rather keen on having a chat. He tells us he's lived here (where "here" is, is a bit vague, he states three different apartments as being his home) for 34 years, he has been a pastry chef (lotta biscottis y'kno', but you wudnt kno' wha' that is*), that he fell and hurt himself two weeks ago and that he shortly (very shortly, we hope) will go back in to watch Formula 1 race.

But the point of the story, the reason I wrote this entry, is the story of what he just did.

He takes out a wallet that he "found" in the front seat of a car parked outside.

- The front door was unlocked, I mean, man, how the hell can you leave the front door unlocked when you got a wallet in the front seat."

We try to convince him that the best would probably be to put the wallet back where he "found" it, but he refuses. He is going to call the owner and then return it. Why he wants to do it this way (and risk being charged with theft) becomes evident when he tells the story of the time he saw a man forget his brief case in the street.

Nisse took the briefcase home, opened it, fund the owner's phone number and called him to arrange a meeting to return the briefcase. The owner of the briefcase was so grateful that he brought a bottle of fine french wine as finders fee.

Without actually saying it it all becomes obvious. Nisse wants another bottle. He is going to call the owner of a wallet that he stole from a car, banking on that the owner will be so grateful that he will give him a bottle of wine as finders fee.

Brilliant.

/J.

*No, he didn't speak english, what he said was "Mycke krokaner vettu, men det vet ju inte ni vad de e", but those of you out there who does not read Swedish wouldn't get much out of that sentence.

Short status report

2007-09-02T03:24:00.000+08:00

Just got internet to the apartment yesterday - seems things take a lot more time in Sweden than I remembered/imagined. Internet took two weeks to installed. Registration with the authorities is on six weeks+ and running. Before the registration is ready, all insurance matters, mail issues, car rentals etc is a major hassle.

Otherwise it's GREAT to be home, I have this really weird craving of getting back to the 9 to 5 rat race (why is it 9 to 5 btw, isn't it 8 to 5 in the rest of the world too? Is this Dolly Parton's fault?). So no culture shock. There's a few things that bums me out, I'll bitch about that sooner or later, but all in all it's just perfect.

I'm going back to work on monday. New company, same shit. They paid a bit more and since everything is so expensive here money matters quite a lot. Will miss my friends at the old company, but I'm sure there's some decent people working at the new place also.

We've done some work on the apartment, which is now starting to look good. We've moved around a lot of the furniture and re-painted so it seems a lot bigger (it's a lot smaller than the house in Phils, 66 m2). It's good enough for now, but sooner or later we'll have to get something bigger. Housing prices are crazy here now, so we'll see how it goes. We have neighbors who sold a flat just like ours and got equvalent to 475 000 USD for it. And, of course, if you want something bigger you have to cough up an extra couple of hundred thousand dollars. Now, I make something like 5000 dollars a months - how am I supposed to even begin to pay off the mortage in my lifetime? And it's not like we're going to buy a mansion. Just a four-room flat.

We've threw out our old (25 years old) couch, which is literally a pain in the ass since we have to sit on the floor. But there are lots of nice swedish second-hand sites on the net so I'm sure something will come up soon. Will also try and get a bunk bed for the kids, their beds are taking up most of the space in the kids room, and also they smell like horsesweat (most of our stuff is really old, things that I had when I was a kid or that I/Lotta bought really cheap second-hand as students). The we got a long wishlist of stuff on the fridge (a rug, a car, a bike for me, re-painting the living room etc) so as soon as the money start rolling in there'll be change around here.

Ok. Boring entry. I'll quit now.

/J.

This is still Sweden

2007-08-01T03:35:00.000+08:00

Back from 19 days in the Stockholm archipelago and still glad to be home, although I miss my friends (But I'm not really sorry, because they were very delicious cheesecakes).

Sweden is still Sweden. Ingmar Bergman is dead, may I say a fitting destiny for an 89 year old man who spent a lot of his life pondering over death. The Swedish news are the same. Apart from covering his death (which is about the only thing they cover), they also cover other countries covering his death. "Hey, they talk about us. Look, there's Woody Allen!. He's talking about a Swedish guy. Man, Woody Allen talking about a Swedish guy, saying nice things about him. And there's Ang Lee. Did you know that Bergman's death was the headline on Le Monde....? Oh, man." (SW had a similar entry when Steve Irwin died)

The nights are still white. The water is still cold. The august moon is already rising, making me think of Tom Waits. The wild berries still grow plentiful around the island were I was. Blueberries, wild strawberries, raspberries and some hybrid of blackberries and raspberries that my parents grow. I have no idea what they're called in English, but probably not blasphberries, even though it would be fun and maybe even linguistically correct.

The Swedish teeny terrorists are still the same. A group calling themselves "The Concrete Jungle Indians" are letting the air out of the tyres of SUV's and leaving notes on the windshields saying "Your SUV KILLS!". Which of course makes the SUV drivers pissed as hell and I'll bet ya they drive that baby round the block one more time to get back and the indians. Any teeny terrorist with a brain would of course start a group called "The Concrete Jungle Baboons" (this is funny because it rhymes with indians in Swedish), leave the tyres alone and put a banana in the tail pipe.

The only shocker so far is that you can not pay on the bus anymore.
I was going in to town with the kids to register with the IRS and become a proper swedish citizen again. So my dad gave me a ride (with a boat) to a bus stop on the mainland, still a bit in the middle of nowhere. I step in with the kids and take out my wallet. Busdriver goes:
- Eeeh, yeah, you can't do that anymore.
- What's that now?
- You can not pay on the bus anymore.
- So how do I pay?
- Don't you have a ticket?
- No.
- Oh.
3 seconds silence where I start to think of how to negotiate to buy the ticket when we get back to civilisation. Busdriver goes:
- Do you have a cellphone?
- Eh, yeah. (But I'm not giving it to you if that's what you mean)
- OK. Yeah, then you text H abc to 72510. It'll cost you 52 SEK (about 8 USD) You'll get a reply. That's your ticket.
So on the following two buses I had to take to get all the way in to town I did not show my ticket. I showed my cellphone. Makes me feel really out-of-date-old and really young and insecure on the same time.
- yeah-I-gots-a-text-says-I-can-go-onyebus-please...

When I got to town I bought me some prepaid-tickets.

/J.

This is Sweden

2007-07-12T16:54:00.000+08:00

Back in Sweden again.

It's 14 degrees and raining. Perfect summer weather. We go to the playpark. Huge, safe and surrounded by greenery. Three men are herding their young ones by the swings.

You take a walk without sweating. The air smells sweet. The cool breeze blows right through your moody self, but not through your jacket. It's quiet.

The weather improves. 20 degrees, sunny. We drive to a nature reserve near my parent's house. The roads are wide, well-paved and virtually empty. Nobody's there. A box by the entrance offers free 20-page color pamphlets on green areas in Stockholm. You choose the spot in the sun to have your snack on. Old red-painted wooden huts are scattered in the landscape amidst the violent yellow rapeseed fields and hazy blue-green oat. The soft green of the shallow lake is the birds alone.

It's like you never left.

And right now, like you never want to leave again.

/J.

Relatively Peaceful

2007-05-14T23:54:00.000+08:00

Just a short report from the midterm elections here in the Philippines that took place today. I was watching one of the local news channels to get some info on who won. Well, the results are not finished yet, but what I did find out was that a chief of police reported that he thought that they had been able to show the international observers that the elections where relatively peaceful. So far 191 poll related acts of violence resulting in 114 deaths of whom 11 were candidates.

/J.

Att: Dalek HQ, Epilogue

2007-05-07T12:08:00.000+08:00

So,

two days after the extermination sign was posted at the entrance of our subdivision, someone posted another sign next to it:

There's something cooking here, and I'm not talking about the 'roadkill surprise' over at the eatery.

/J.

Att: Dalek HQ

2007-05-04T15:22:00.000+08:00

I found this sign at the entrance of our subdivision. I'm all for it, I hate those dogs, they hate me. (At least they crap in my yard all the time). What really got me though was it was not called for the concerned citizen to catch them or even kill them. We may "exterminate [them] by any means". As my youngest sons favourite dinosaur says: Let's use our imaginations....

/J.

Going home

2007-04-30T03:20:00.000+08:00

I doubt that anyone actually reading this blog don't know we'll be going back to Sweden in July (and L in August).

Not to much to say about that. I'm happy about it, I will miss some stuff and don't miss even more.

What I have noticed since it was finalized:

1. My willingness/ability to cope with the cultural differences have been spiralling steeply downwards. Before Belgian friend J was leaving at Christmas I asked him how he felt about it. He said "I try not to think about it. I did that when we left Vietnam, and it just pissed me off". Now I know exactly how he felt. Like when Yaya C disappeared. A year ago I would probably have tried to smooth things over to make it work again, now, I just don't care anymore. Or yesterday when one of the baggers smashed my olive oil against my car. It took them 20 minutes to replace it. A year ago that would be (slow, but yet) service. Now it's just irritating. A lot of things go from quirky or cute or different or "when in Rome..." to plain annoying or incomprehensible or "...get out while you still can" .

2. More often than not, when you tell Filipino friends or acquaintances or just people you happen to meet, you often feel that you've offended them. Like when I went to see J's doctor for a check-up on the TB. Suddenly the air was filled with a notion that I was not really there to check up on my son, but rather I had taken some time off work to come down and insult him, personally.

There, not a single joke. I'll get back on track soon.

/J.

Guitars

2007-04-28T22:17:00.000+08:00

Thanks to J. who went to Cebu with her parents for Easter, I finally got my new guitars (one semi-acoustic wrinkled-back bass guitar, one semi-acoustic shell-backed guitar). The old one, an "Original Lumanog" that I bought for something like $40 i a shopping mall near Manila gave up the ghost the day before a Christmas party I was going to play at . To be precise it gave up the bridge and saddle but it doesn't sounds as catchy. I ended up playing "Deck the halls" and "Joy to the world" upside down on a right-hand guitar. Fun, still. Sounded good? Not so much.

So I got in touch with this guy where I previously bougth a filipino bass (a bit like a guitarron) on Mactan Island, just off Cebu. This island is known for three things:
- Magellan died there, killed by Filipino hero Lapu-Lapu and his men.
- It has an international airport (oh, yes, airports, let's click on that link!).
- It is the best place in the Philippines to buy guitars.

They didn't have left-handed guitars though, so I had to order them, and then it took them two months to build them and then a while longer before I could find someone to pick them up. So it was four months without guitars. I didn't realise I missed a guitar so much at home, but as soon as I went somewhere I started playing anything with strings (after 20 minutes of trying and failing miserably at tuning it). So they were VERY welcome.

I am oddly proud of these guitars, although I had absolutely nothing to do with the manufacturing. The one who did was Eddie T. Pangatungan at OponGuitars, a very nice man. The kind of guy that makes you oddly proud of your purchase. I think it's best symbolised by his last mail to me after I wrote to thank him and say the guitars were beautiful and safely at my house:

"Thank you for appreciating our guitars. It is our privilege and pleasure to have served you satisfactorily. Thank you for doing business with you."

I AM welcome.

/J.

Also: The link to friend G's photogenius on framefive has been dead for a while, but is now feeling much better. Here it is.

Also also: There are a lot better pictures of the guitars (or ones like them) here. And if you ever want to buy a guitar, I can really recommend Opon. Just mail or call ahead of your left-handed.

Also also also: The leg is looking and feeling much better.

Let's just ignore them -or- More pictures of other parts of my body

2007-04-27T14:46:00.000+08:00

That's it. I'm never going out in the sun again. Not that I have been today, but around lunch I discovered that my chest thought it had, like this:

Apparantly Jean-Claude got the best of me and caused an allergic reaction, so I went back to the town hospital to see another doctor, Dr Pua. He was a very hands-on man. When he saw my boil he ordered me to the ER and started picking away at the boil/pus/wound with a tweezer while humming a merry tune. And I, I must admit, called his name out loud several times. PUUUU-AAAAAAAAAA.

You do have these interesting conversations with doctors when they're pounding away at you:
Dr Pua: So how long have you had this?
Me: SiIIIIIInce last SundAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAy
Dr Pua: Well, boils are bery common in summer
Me: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOh, really

He prescribed me with something else, Clarithromycin, which I have no idea what it is but let's say the...eh... Zach Braff of penicillin. Wimpy, but does a good job. And I swear I'll kick his ass if it comes down to that.

And, on the picture front, stay tuned. Next week it might be I-got-some-fungi-growing-in-my-groin-week. It is, also, bery common in the summer.

/J.

Legs

2007-04-26T23:02:00.000+08:00

These are my legs. As you can see the one on the left sports a tanned, succulent look, while the right one is pale and skinny. Now which one would I prefer? Tan and succulent? Skinny and pale?

To make matters more clear, these are my ankles. The right one looks so smooth it reminds me of a Hillary Clinton joke*. On the left the bones seem to be bursting through the skin any moment.

To make matters more gross, here is the villain in the drama. It started out a tiny black spot, grew a ring, added some height and then just went mad.

After this rather painful but otherwise harmless condition (the boil was eating away at my periosteum) the entire leg swelled up, so today I went to the doctor, who for the second time emptied it for me (first one I did myself). In the category "most disgusting things I have seen coming out of my body" it ranks pretty high. Thank godness the eyes and arse are on opposite sides of the body.

Then he cleaned it up again and prescribed some penicillin. He didn't say it out loud, but I could see it in his eyes that the prescription was for the Jean-Claude Van Damme of antibiotics. To prove my theory I kept the presription in my wallet and just asked for the "short belgian" penicillin when I got to the pharmacy, and they served me right up. So now I'm back on track, and the pain is not so bad unless I sit down or get up or stand up or lie down.

/J.

Namely "Hillary, are those your ankles or did you just take a dump in your socks?". (Jon Stewart was trying to prove that the presidential candidates had not yet stepped over the line in attacking each other. The same segment contained "Obama, you smoke so much your lungs are the only authentically black thing about you")

Egrets!

2007-04-13T10:51:00.000+08:00

Des, Felix, Lala, Leni and Mike negotiating the garbage in Tanza.

Black Saturday came with a totally unplanned but very welcome birdwatching trip for me in Tanza, Navotas, just north of Manila. The purpose of the trip was a waterbird census, aimed in particular at Chinese Egrets.

Chinese Egrets looks more or less like any other egrets, but they are rare, and getting rarer (Vulnerable on IUCN Redlist). The total breeding population is estimated somewhere between 2000 and 3600. The main reason for their decline is habitat loss, due to reclamation of tidal mudflats and estuaries for industrial use, infrastructure or aquaculture.

Yet, just 45 minutes from Rizal Park (downtown Manila) we found 74 of them. And a part of the explanation is the thousands of tons of garbage that is flushed out from Manila each day. Sometimes conservation works in mysterious ways.

The group (Des, Lala, Felix, Pres. Mike, Leni, Propgerry, Jenny and me) met up at Aristocrat on Roxas Boulevard where I, still sleepy from getting up way too early in the morning, was scammed of P40 from a very nice young man "collecting parking fees". I did not break my mood though, he did a good job. When everybody was counted for and stocked up on bread and water the caravan headed north, through the labyrinths of Navotas. We parked by the school and headed out towards the ponds. The area had been dredged since the last census two weeks ago, so we had to take a detour by the coastline. The detour offered a balancing act on an 8-foot high, 8-inch wide concrete wall and some crisscrossing between beach visitors who looked a bit bewildered about what we were doing there. We reached a stilt house village and met the Barangay Captain at his Sari-Sari store. He again told us about the dredging and arranged for a banka to take us across the dike. My shortest banka ride yet here in the Philippines, about 5 meters. By then all hardships getting there were forgotten, because on the other side of the dike, the Chinese Egrets were waiting for us. Lots of them.

The beach looked like a garbage heap. Not the kind of area you would think of as a bird refuge. I'm not saying that the birds like the garbage (unless it's edible) but it keeps the people away, and as bad as it looks it gives the birds some space. The currents in Manila bay go counter-clockwise, bringing tons of garbage. As a result, all good beach resorts are south of Manila, and the best birding spots are to the north (Puerto Rivas in Bataan has been coming out as no 1 (in the Philippines) in the Asian Waterbird Census for years.)

The egrets were being totally insensitive about our efforts to count them and kept flying back and forth leaving Lala with a lot of addition or subtraction posts in her notebook. My suggestion to shoot them after they had been counted (to avoid any double-counting) did not go well with the others. Some people just can't think outside of the bomb....box!

A small plover with an orange head gave us some identification problems. The first call was Kentish Plover, but there was no black on the neck so we had to decide on either Lesser or Greater Sand-plover. After much deliberation on whether the neck, bill and legs were slightly longer or shorter, or the head was slightly rounder or more angular, compared to a bird which we only had a picture of, we settled for Greater Sand-plover. Later on Des caught up with us and provided a much easier identification technique. If the bill is half the length of the head, it is a Greater Sand-plover, if the bill is a third the length of the head it's a Lesser Sand-plover.

The egrets caught the most attention, but a cloud of around 2000 terns who were having a feeding frenzy out at sea, and small numbers of waders; Redshanks, Greenshanks, Terek Sandpipers, Common Sandpipers and Sand-plovers were adding diversity. Almost at the end of the shoreline, the majestic Far Eastern Curlew offered us a great view.

At the end of the mangroves we turned east. Again, we had to go around a bit since the good people who were preparing a dump site in midst of the mangroves and fish ponds would not let us pass through their area. The fishpond area offered more kingfishers, swallows and reed-warblers. The Striated Herons were abundant. Another cloud of terns were having another feeding frenzy. We happily left the counting to our president, who had been assigned with the terns. Propgerry discovered a Black-Crowned Night Heron in a tree just above us. When we passed back between the fishponds a single Black-Headed Gull landed on the water on the right side and three small "ducks" plunged down on the left side. The "ducks" turned o to be Little Grebes, according to Lala the first record of them on this site. Just 50 meters ahead a lone Marsh Sandpiper in a flock of Greenshanks added a new species to our list. After some 6 hours in the baking sun we reached the cool, soothing environment of our fossil-fuel driven metal containers, commonly known as cars, and headed home. A great day to be alive.

/J.

The Golden Rules

2007-04-12T23:34:00.000+08:00

Lone Gopher has been moping a lot lately.

But all bad things must come to an end.

So I’ve decided to restart my long string of incomplete entry strings with some new strings, hoping that my newfound bliss will help me to be more stringent. The first string will contemplate the basic principles of a good way of life. The first principle being:

Do unto others what you want others to do unto you

This rule was coined by a guy called Jesus as an upgrade to the old “love thy neighbor like thyself” rule, which had fallen into disuse, partly because of an absurd amount of sexual harassment charges.

Anyway, Jesus had a plan. If everybody followed this rule the world would be a better place to live in. So he gave away all his belongings to other people, banking on that other people would give their belongings to him. Lo and behold, 2000 years later the Christian Church is one of the richest entities on the planet. Because of that, this saying has subsequently been labeled “The Golden Rule” and has led way for pyramid schemes everywhere.

The re-invention of this rule awarded Jesus the title “Marketing Genius of the Millennium” at the EuroFair in Wageningen 998 AD, fending off great names like Charlemagne (who re-invented the Roman Empire and brought Europe back from the pool of mud it had been sitting in for the last 400 years), Romulus Popeil (inventor of the slave-o-matic) and Leif Ericsson, who just two years earlier had discovered America. Leif’s achievement was a bit hampered by the fact that he didn’t return to tell anybody, and, to a lesser extent, some non-Europeans apparently beat him there by, oh, 10 000 years. Jesus was also credited for getting his birthday designated as the starting date of the Gregorian calendar and, almost single-handedly, skyrocketing the sandal sales worldwide.

Go Jesus.

/J.

TB 3

2007-04-04T13:39:00.000+08:00

So Josef is now confirmed to have TB stage 3, which means it's active but not yet at a blood-coughing level (and as long as the drugs work will never get there).

Not the best present for Easter, he has to take three different medicines for two months, after that continue with two for four months more. Two them are to be taken on an empty stomach 30 min before breakfast (and any candy leverage that you might want to have in store). The last 30 min after breakfast. All three are reported to taste horrible, and may well bust his liver.

Anyway, on the flip side there is medicine (and we can afford to give it to him, which is not always the case). A hundred years ago in Europe or this year in poor parts of Bangladesh* we'd all go to a funeral in a year.

Tomorrow I'll write something funny instead.

/J.

* not meant to be rude to Bangladesh, 1,7 million people died from TB 2004. Pick any country you like. People still die from it in Sweden, but mostly due to complication/combination with other diseases/failure to medicate or take medicine.

TB

2007-04-03T13:21:00.000+08:00

I've been really lazy with posting and also returning e-mails (Karl, Micke, Daniel, Anders among aothers). Sorry about that. Some not-so-fun news.

Josef has tested positive for TB with a PPD-test (Purified Protein Derivate, the “positive” means he carries TB). We took the test when he was diagnosed with pneumonia. The doctor wanted to make sure no TB “was hiding” behind that pneumonia. We do not know when or from whom he got it (incubation can be weeks or years, tricky disease). We do not yet know if the bacteria are active or latent (if the TB-bacteria are causing his symptoms or if he “just” has pneumonia and the test “just” shows that he carries TB). Me, Lotta and our helpers got tested (x-rayed) yesterday afternoon. I will return today to get the results. I will inform you of developments ASAP. We'll also get a second opinion on josef's x-ray.

To be continued.

Cheers

/J.

4 figures

2007-02-23T21:06:00.000+08:00

Two nice things happened:

1. This site has now had more than 1000 visitors (suck on that, Yahoo/Google/MSN). My competition can be screened here, if you're in to those things.

2-4. I not only got a job, I got three. And none of them were technical writter.

/J.

Hope sprains eternal

2007-01-26T10:52:00.000+08:00

So, I’m out of a job again, and moping about it.
The last couple of days I’ve been hooked on job sites, international and national. The international are clearly more interesting – but I seem to have chosen the wrong career to be a player on that circuit.

The national are a bit more discouraging careerwise, (Sure, I could be a English tutor for 2$ an hour, but it wouldn’t cover my transport cost of going in to Manila) but the do offer a smile now and then.

Here are some of the positions offered:
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13. - Technical Writter(Proficient in Adobe Framemaker)
-Graduate of any IT related course -at least 1 yr experience as a technical writter -Proficient with Adobe PageMaker - Very Good oral and written English
Location: Makati - Manila Salary: 20k-35k

They do need one, don’t they?

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39. - Guidance Head
BS/AB Psychology graduate; with MA units; effective counseling skills; 3-5 yrs exp. as Head
Location: Molino 3, Bacoor - Cavite Salary: Upon Interview Date: 16 January 2007

My head has 32 years of experience, are you sure I need a psych grad as well?

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14. - Mixed Signal Equipment Engineering Engineer
REQUIREMENTS: Candidate must possess at least a Bachelor's/College Degree in Engineering (EE/ECE) or equivalent. Knowledgeable in Basic Circuit Analysis, Test Methodology, and Basic Test Equipment Maintenance. Proficient in Test Debugging, Test Equipment Operation, Handler and Prober Operations, Use of Test Instruments, Word Processing and Spreadsheet, and Unix Environment. Willing to relocate to Laguna Location: Calamba - Laguna Salary: negotiable Date: 5 January 2007

OK, I’m not an engineer, but I’ve lived in the Philippines for over a year, should make me as good with mixed signals as anyone. Too bad, I hear engineering engineers are the best (as opposed to the low-life non-engineering engineers)

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4. Ilustrator
Those who can provide illustration and image for the children's English book
Location: Makati - Manila Salary: negotiable Date: 13 January 2007

Three words. ”With a melon!?”.

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6. House Parents
Couple to work together as house parents for former street children and orphans in a cottage at the South Campus of Christians' Haven. Man and wife must be dedicated, active, born again Christians.
Location: Manticao/Northern Mindanao - Near Iligan City - Misamis Oriental Salary: 7K + 5K/month Date: 28 December 2006

Well, as long as I don’t have to actually gice birth to it…

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48. Part-time Tutor for Computer
We are looking for professional who would like to teach the following computer applications: 1. Autocad 2. Adobe Photoshop 3. Visual Basic 4. C++ 5. Corel Draw Interested applicants may send their resume via email : xxxxxx_xxx@xxxxx.xxx
Location: Paranaque - Manila Salary: negotiable Date: 18 January 2007

Thanks, but no thanks. I was a teacher once and had an Abobe Photoshop in my class. I can’t teach those bastards anything.
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74. - Native Speaker(part time or full time)
Qualifications: 1. Preferably with teaching experience 2. Hard-working and dedicated 3. Competent to train ESL Teachers 4. Punctual and with high sense of responsibility
Location: Cebu City - Cebu Salary: very competitive Date: 13 January 2007

If it only hadn’t been in Cebu. I speak native, like, fluently…

/J.

Txt u l8r

2007-01-23T16:07:00.000+08:00

I have a hard time throwing stuff away, so before I go ahead and delete the messages from my inbox, I will share some of my favourites with you:

List of 5 outstanding text messages sent to me

5. Category: Most obvious denial of the t9-function
Sent to me by one of L's acquaintances before a meeting in Mega Mall. It's just unusual 2 c a txt usin an xtra lttr her n d pilipins.

- wat name of backery?-

4. Category: Most creative use of umlauts, occasional uppercase letters and grave accents.
Sent to me from yaya C when she obviously thought I needed some cheering up. Well, it worked, maybe not in the way she intended though.

As thè
möön winks
at ü
t0nite,
ì wish
SWEETDREAMS
embrace
ü tight
i HöPe
ür dAy
wäs Qüitè
aLryt..
f0r n0w
i bid ü,
A LöveLy
Gudnyt..ü

(The runner-up for that one was: Ängels usuälly shöwer gräces eärly in the mrning, sö i göt up erly 2däy 2 ask dem 2 täke cäre öf u,guide u in whätever u dö & prötect u whrevr u gö.Gudm0rning!!)

3. Category: Necks of kin who hates hip hop
Sent to me when I was trying to reach helper G

- Sory sir’dis not [G],I’m knees of [G].nd I’m nt n d house -

2. Category: Priceless Portmanteau.
Sent to me from above mentioned helper G

- Ok norblem by. [G]. -

1. Category: Don't ever give your number to people you don't know.
This was sent by a guy named Alex. I met him and his friends at the town park when I'd just gotten here. They were students from San Pablo, talked about their lives, played some with my kids, were generally nice people. After a while they asked if they could have my number. After a week or so, Alex sent me this, totally unsolicited text.

- I oftn catch myslf constantly wondering hw u r, sittn alone w/ my mind set s0 far..Reminiscin abt ur smyl, ur voice, Oh my!…im missin u 2 much!-

/J.

Time to cut your hair and get a job

2007-01-18T09:09:00.000+08:00

Sometimes a single word changes your understanding of a different culture.

My youngest son, 2,5 years old, goes to a toddler school. Their theme for the week is "Community Helpers". We happen to have an "educational poster" of community helpers. (Educational posters are very common here, we have stuff with plants, musical instruments, national heroes, numbers, letters, fish, you name it)

Yesterday my wife L asks my son J how school has been.

He goes "Fine."

She turns to the poster and points at a police officer and says "Do you recognise this guy?"

He goes "Pig."

I'll tell ya, them kindergartens in the Philippines teach the kids at a completely different level.

/J.

Politeness, epilogue

2007-01-16T10:03:00.000+08:00

Small item, in reference to an earlier post.

I wrote some on my book today, and had to look up the word fuckup in Wiktionary to see how it translated into other languages. The only available translation? Sure enough, it was the Russians.

/J.

New costume, same shit

2007-01-12T11:27:00.000+08:00

I was going to write something funny about radio in the Philippines, but ended up with a reminder of the governing methods of the country I'm living in who ousted their dictator in a spectacular non-violent revolution 21 years ago. Apparantly Malacanang put out a press release from the Cebu Citizen's Press Council with regard to the ASEAN Summit being held in Cebu at the moment:

Cebu Press Council appeals for sobriety among media, local officials
CEBU CITY – In an effort to show the best side of Cebu province, the Cebu Citizens Press Council (CCPC) called on the media and local officials Tuesday to show a greater sense of responsibility for an excellent media coverage and a successful hosting of the four-day 12th Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) Summit which opens here Sunday.
In a resolution, the CCPC appealed to media practitioners to show a deeper sense of community in reporting and commenting on the news during the four-day summit and for public officials to show restraint in their disagreement with what it called specific media lapses or practices.
“The CCPC hereby appeals for greater sense of responsibility on both sides, the press and the government, for excellent media coverage and for a successful hosting of the summit,” the resolution said.
Meeting en banc for their fourth quarterly meeting at the MBF Cebu Press Center in Lahug, the CCPC noted the vast importance to the country in general and Cebu in particular of the 12th ASEAN Summit.
It also cited the major stake of the Cebuanos in the event which is expected to provide unprecedented opportunity to showcase the best of the province to foreign visitors.
“The Cebu media can greatly help in presenting Cebu’s rich heritage, culture and values; its advances in governance, education, and technology; and the attractions of the province as tourism and investment destination,” the CCPC resolution said.
The CCPC likewise pointed out that public officials should also put off public discussions of their grievances and misconceptions about the summit so that their actions could not fuel negative reporting by the media.

More here.

/J.

Merry Xmas to All

2006-12-26T23:32:00.000+08:00

Or whichever holiday you prefer to celebrate. Or if you do not celebrate, I hope you have a good time anyway, and get what whatever you wish for in life.

Cheers.

/J.

'Tis the season

2006-12-18T21:51:00.000+08:00

Jolly Santas smile from every frosted window

Snow covered Christmas trees sparkle with every imaginable decoration you can think of

Red-nosed reindeer relentlessly pull fake sleighs filled with fake presents over a fake winterland

And, oh yes,

This is a picture from my car after I left it on an unshaded parking lot for 30 min.

/J.

Almost Famous

2006-12-18T17:15:00.000+08:00

If you read the PR-folders from the Swedish Embassy in Manila you get a picture of Swedish society, culture, industry, nature, climate and celebrities.

Yet they missed the most common thing Filipinos know about Sweden. It is not the Nobel Prize or IKEA or Greta Garbo or Ingemar Bergman or Ingrid Bergman or Björn Borg.

Definitely not Ingemar Stenmark or Peter Forsberg.

Not even the Swedish Muppet chef.

The two things that come in close of our winner is ABBA and Ericsson phones, which everybody knows of in this karaoke- and textmessage crazed country. But they don't necessarily know they're from Sweden. (To be honest, I guess most Ericsson phones are from China, but anyway)

What they do know is Swedish Massage, something most Swedish people never heard of (and I say this with confidence since I'm Swedish and can speak for the entire Swedish community, really)

/J.

Birds of Spray

2006-12-05T20:18:00.000+08:00

Where there's people there's vendors. The sell all kinds of foods or products you can think of. And some you hadn't thought of. Last week I joined a school outing* with my oldest son to Manila Zoo. Outside the zoo there was a man selling - I shit you not - tree sparrows that had been spray painted red or green, in a vain attempt to make them appear more exotic**.

/J.

*I find school outings very educational. A month ago it was Sports day, which meant a 7am Saturday morning assembly to have the four-year-olds:

- go marching up and down the square

- pray

- sing the national anthem and

- take an oath of sportsmanship

before starting with the sports, which included things like peeling quail eggs and tossing water balloons to each other. This time it was the Zoo and a stage production of Aladdin. Mostly, though, it was waiting. Out of a 10-hour trip, 7,5 were spent on the bus or in a queue. The Aladdin show was great. The kids loved it. Manila Zoo, not so great. But of course, the kids loved it (and the outing was for them, not for me). I just have hard time looking at animal confined in a space so small they can hardly move - like a 3-foot Rufous Hornbill confined in a 1 m3 cage.

** Really, selling birds in the street is bad for a number of reasons (especially if you are the bird). On the flip side of this though, trade with endemic and/or rare species is a problem in the Philippines and elsewhere, so, given a choice, I'd rather see the introduced (as often regarded as pest) tree sparrows being fenced than a Philippine Cockatoo or Luzon Bleeding Heart

Storm Debris

2006-12-05T10:20:00.000+08:00

- This is sort of old stuff -

Durian (Reming)* is gone. It left 1200+ dead (latest I heard was 1266) and over 100 000 without homes and/or crops.

It was supposed to hit us.

Not until 3.33 pm on storm day there was a report from that a high pressure area over the South China sea was pushing the typhoon south, out of the way of Metro Manila (and thereby Los Baños) . It would probably have hit Mount Mayon (where most people died) anyway, the eye going slightly north of the mountain instead of slightly south.

The days preceding Durian I thought about this entry, how I could interlace it with experiences from Xangsane (Milenyo)* after which we had a brownout for 15 days and I didn't write any entries. I never got around to really finish anything but the general thoughts were these:

It was striking how Milenyo sharpened the alertness of Reming. (A very remote allegory would be the annual Swedish epiphany that snow is slippery. Each year with the first snow there's total chaos, leaving 4 people dead and 50+ without their cars, at least until the insurance company can replace it, not really in the same league as this). Last time I heard and read about Milenyo but didn't think much of it - would probably mean a day or two or brownout and some extra cleaning in the garden. Before Reming came it was a totally different story, and not only for me. A brief summary:

Preparing for the Storm Xangsane (Milenyo):
1. Wrote witty blog entry (in Swedish) on what a piece of cake typhoons in the Philippines are.
2. Failed to buy even the basic extra candles, food, batteries, medicine.
3. Failed to charge batteries and spare lights.

Preparing for the Storm Durian (Reming):
1. A good two days in advanced we stocked up on food, batteries, candles, medicine, put gas in the car, got cash, an extra gas tank for the stove, three extra 5-gallon water jug ( in addition to the six we already have)
2. Wrote two not so witty blog entries (on the Swedish blog) on how intense typhoons in the Philippines are
3. Invited all the people I knew (and some I didn't know) living near "our hill" to stay in our house during the typhoon because of the risk of flooding and landslides (one family who accepted the offer had water up to their waists last time, but this time it was going to be worse)
4. Removing all loose objects from garden, carried anything that might be spoiled by water upstairs.

Even if it was going to be the worst storm ever, our house was fairly secure - out of the way for landslides, the flooding had to be at least 12-14 feet to reach our second floor, we had supplies -including water, food, medicine and lights - to last us for at least a week.

Storm Day Xangsane (Milenyo):
The day before a neighboring school was closed - orders from the HQ - while my kids school was open. I had contact with the president of our school and asked about tomorrow; will the school be closed tomorrow if we're on signal 2? (=class 2 typhoon 60-100 km/h sustained winds). Yes, no school if we're on signal 2. Next day I woke up at 6:30. L was already downstairs with the breakfast, and the typhoon was already at signal 3. Beside there was no way we where going to get out anyway, since the street had turned into a creek. The kids came down and were pleased that there was no school, but not so pleased they couldn't watch TV instead. I stood by the screen door watching the spectacle and jumped half a meter when a Pomelo (large grapefruit) was blown onto the screen bouncing back four meters onto the lawn. 20 minutes later one of our Durian trees was blown over the door. The Typhoon was now on signal 4 (more than 185 km/h sustained winds)(from what I heard later, not that I went outside and measured wind speed myself). . The wall facing the wind turned into a small waterfall when the rain was pushed through the closed windows by the wind. It looked like something I would like to think you would find in a upscale Japanese home and would have been great if the water was diverted back out again instead of turning the tile floor to skating rink.

What do you do under circumstances like that?
Bring out the camera of course. And the video camera (and putting towels on the floor and reading stories to the kids). I was aware that people probably were fighting for their lives about now, but there was no way I could get to them anyway. This is some of what I got:

This picture shows the view from the second floor. It looks out of focus, but the distortion is from the rain.

This is the same picture when the eye passed

This is our street during the eye

and the tree that fell on our screendoor

Storm Day Reming:
After a morning run of getting the last supplies I went briefly to work for a couple of hours. Schools were already closed even though the typhoon would not pass for another 18 hours. Kept a close eye on the development (As close as I could PAGASAs homepage went down around 10 am). At 2 pm we were e-mailed a memo that said that work was suspended from 2:30 onwards. We left only after securing plastic over all computers and printers (which we did not do before Milenyo). Went home, secured everything in the house and garden, sat in front of the computer trying to get information. At around 4 pm I read an article on Manila Times that said the typhoon would miss Metro Manila. Still, it was a category 5 typhoon, the early reports from Catanduanes were terrible. One interesting thing in all this was that one of the best places to get information was Wikipedia - they already had information on windspeeds, landfalls, forecasts etc - all the regular weather sites were almost impossible to enter due to heavy traffic. We had 13 guests that night. Had some dinner. Electricity went at 7 pm. By this time we were pretty sure that Reming would largely miss us, but in the dark you never know. Got a report from my brother in Sweden who confirmed the typhoon was going due west, passing around 85 km south of LB. Power came back briefly around 9:30 pm. Went to bed at 10. Slept most of the night, and when we woke up it was all over.

Aftermaths -Days after Milenyo
First Day: Went zig-zag trying to get cash, gas, food, candles for ourselves and for those in greater need than us. Succeeded on the two latter.
Day 2-15: Continued the search for cash (got it day 3) and gas (got it day 4, when I was running on fumes). Helped out as good as we could. Received rumours that new typhoons were coming (each day from 1-6, it was even in the papers, but it never came). Spent sweaty nights trying to get some sleep and hush equally sweaty kids. Trying to get information on when the power was getting back . When it came to most of Los Baños we were still without, first the rumour was that somebody stole the power lines, secondly (when the power had come back to almost all houses in our subdivision except for ours) that a transformer had blown. Got jealous and felt worse stricken when everybody else had their power back except for us. Fought a lot. Got sick of it all and went to spent a night at a hotel (and eat their marvellous breakfast).

Aftermaths - Days after Reming
First Day: Went to Manila to spend the day with L who's flight had been delayed 11 hours (After Milenyo they were all cancelled). Made to the airport on record time (after Milenyo an office mate spent 15 hours going the 50 km to the airport, if it weren't for the bags you'd probably walk faster). When we came home the power was already restored.
Second day: Went to the beach with some friends, all back to normal

I would like to have a poignant finish to this one as well, but I guess there isn't one (and that's why it took me so long to finish it).

Win some, lose some.

/J.

* Typhoons are named by the Japan Meteorological Agency (JMA) on a rolling scheme where all nations around SE Asia get their turn to name Typhoons. This time it was Thailand who submitted Durian, last time Lao PDR with Xangsane. However, when a typhoon enters the Philippine Area of Responsibility it is given a name by PAGASA, Milenyo and Reming, respectively. It seems even if the Philippines submit the name such as for the severe tropical storm Bilis in July, it is still given another name 'onli in the Pilipines' (that time Florita)

Never Never Land

2006-11-22T18:55:00.000+08:00

Once a month or so we go to a shopping mall halfway to Manila to stock up on crisp bread, ham, whole grain flour and other necessities of life.

Gopher Jrs love this. Not that they’re fond of shopping, but the mall also has a place called FUNLAND, where we take them for an hour or so while one of us gets some extra shopping time.

FUNLAND includes a trampoline…

…slides…

…big plastic cars

…basketball hoops…

...a child-friendly assault course...

…a big container filled with plastic balls (a.k.a. The Germ Pit)…

Even I have fun there. But not all is mindless running and shouting. FUNLAND also have a place for reflection and contemplation. The Reading corner.

The sign says:

Children's Reading Corner will take you to never never land,
to the magical world of princes and princesses and many other faraway places,
but please observe the following house rules:
- This area is strictly for reading books only

- Playing is not allowed in this area

- Do not bring the books outside this area
- Request for an adult to keep you company
Our crew attendant are most happy to help you

And please return the books to its proper shelves
Thank You and Enjoy Reading

(Sorry about the poor shot).

Just a quiet place (as quiet as they get in Filipino shopping malls) to enjoy a good book. I personally think it's a great idea. But the again, the book shelves looks like this…

The sign under the "...No playing is allowed in this area..." sign is this...

And what they’re really doing is this...

/J.

The Filipino Experience

2006-11-20T18:06:00.000+08:00

As of now, I will fail to post entries on two blogs instead of one. You will find a blog dedicated to my expat's eyes here

/J.

You want to go where everybody knows your name

2006-11-15T23:30:00.000+08:00

The last phrase of the theme of my favourite sitcom growing up has stuck with me as a description of a sense of home throughout the years. And being expat it is something you ponder about a lot. If you want some thought on it in proper English, the munificent Secret Wombat has had some entries on it.

This morning it happened again. My Yaya (nanny for my kids) told me there was a woman outside who wanted to sell me a fish.
- "She knows your name" C. said, which is code for "You'd better go out and talk to her"
So I did (and bought the fish)(and it was tasty).

I had never (knowingly) seen her before, but she knew who I was.

This particular incident is not hard to explain: I usually buy food that people bring to my doorstep. I figure I'm giving more back to the community that way. There's a good chance the woman knew someone who had earlier sold something to me. Maybe cucumbers. But it is part of a pattern.

Two weeks ago in the supermarket a man whom I've never (knowingly) seen before comes up to me at the check-out and says:
-"Sir, your lights are on"
After a split second of considering and dismissing the thought that this might be code for "Your fly is open" or "There's a huge bugger hanging out of your right nostril", I thanked him and said I'll be out in a minute to take care of it.

Now, did this man see me get out of my car? Probably not, why would he wait forty-five minutes to tell me? Then how, out of the hundred cars in the parking lot, did he match the one with the lights on to me?

A month ago my water distributor went out of business so I went to one of their competitors to ask them to start delivering water to me. I walk in to an office of a company I have never had anything to do with before, addressing a man I have never (knowingly) seen before and asked to have water delivered.
- “How many, sir?”
- “Five, please.”
- “Round?”
- “Yes, please.”
I pay him and sign my name on a receipt. When I start to fill up the address-part I am interrupted by:
-"It's OK, sir, I know where you live"

Not in a threatening way. Just pure service. But you do start to wonder why: Is it “It’s that guy that screams at his children all the time” or “It’s that guy that bought cucumbers from my cousin” or “It’s that guy that walks in the rain without an umbrella”.

Whoever you are, you are not a stranger, you can’t be. There is no such thing as anonymity (with a few exceptions, I know). This IS the land of "Hey Joe"(Which, by the way, is close enough) where you get cheery greetings from every Tom, Dick and Jhun-Jhun, but among these are also an impressive number who actually know who you are.

And it leaves me with a feeling of reassurance since I know there are people out there who obviously are looking out for me, but also a feeling of sadness because I realise that being home is not just where everybody knows your name.

You know theirs, too.

/J.

Power to the People

2006-10-13T09:13:00.000+08:00

It was one of those Hollywood moments where everything seems easier and cooler than life itself. I was slowly coming down our street when I saw the truck from the electricity company coming round the bend. I buzzed down my window, held out my left hand, thumb up. The driver of the truck held out his left hand, thumb up.
Then he slowly drove away.

Some of the men sitting on the back of the truck started cheering "You got power!"

And, from afar, there was violin music.

/J.

I'm beginning to see the light

2006-10-12T12:49:00.000+08:00

Before the li-et comes, there shall come a truck
and it shalt be a big ole orange truck with the divine letter marks and a skylift
and it shalt be parked in front on the building of the supreme being known as DG
it shalt be there on the fifteenth day after the darkness came
around lunchtime
and it shalt contain a small man
and the man shalt say: "Yes, sir, we go there" when asked if they are heading towards the valley of darkness, where few men dare to tread
and there will be much rejoicing
and the men will prepare to slaughter the pigs and chickens and fish found in the big freezer at south supermarket
and once more will there be edible products similar to dairy products
and the hand of the privileged yet annoyed expat shalt come upon the small man and the markings he represent should the annoyed expat find out the small man was bullshitting him

/J

Tally-ho?

2006-09-19T07:30:00.000+08:00

In the absence of real friends and collegues to send me mails with not-so-important information to give flavour to everyday life, (with a few exceptions, of course, i.e. the reader's of this blog; I would like to thank Mom, Dad, L, A, Y, G, E and C), I've subscribed to a number of newsletters with more or less important information.

One of these newsletters informed me yesterday that today is the international Talk-like-a-pirate-day. Apparently these two guys were playing squash and then decided to talk like pirates (theory 1: One of them got a ball in one eye and had to cover it; theory 2: One of them (the one with the idea) had a racket smashed in the head. Really hard). Their website have a glossary to start with, consisting of no less than 5 words (all beginning with A). If you want to go to the advanced section there's another 7 words there. Amazingly complicated, this pirate stuff.

As a special there's soundclips where you can learn how to talk like a pirate in German, Mandarin chinese and Swedish. The swedish clip is a man with a growly, but otherwise perfectly normal and grammatically correct, voice saying (in swedish) " I, I am a pirate. I steal from the rich and give to myself. Hee-he-he-he-he-hee-heee".

So that's how you do it. I'll get right on it. Hee-he-he-he-he-hee-heee

/J.

DUI

2006-09-18T13:24:00.000+08:00

Apparently bats die at windmills. But the USGS scientists are on it.

"One research tool that is particularly well-suited to studying the origins of bats killed at wind turbines is stable isotope analysis. USGS scientists recently pioneered the application of stable hydrogen isotope analysis to the study of migration in terrestrial mammals and proved the efficacy of the technique for studying the continental movements of bats. Coincidentally, this groundbreaking research focused on the very same species of bat (the hoary bat, Lasiurus cinereus) that is killed most frequently at wind turbine sites across North America. Because of this, the USGS is in the unique position of having an existing framework of stable isotope data on which to build."

Coincidentally, later research revealed the hoary bats’ inability to detect windmills while stuffed with stable isotopes.

/J.

Magic

2006-08-29T20:27:00.000+08:00

Thanks to R. I finally scored a job after a year of joblessness (more on that later).

Part of the job description is use Google Earth to obtain some data (no more on that later here). Anyways, I've used GE before to pinpoint my house and that sort of thing but never realised you could tilt Earth (mock me if you must).

To me that is absolutely magic. I can somewhat grasp that you can do that, computerwise, but the feeling of actually being somewhere else even though you're just staring at your computer is (to me again) totally amazing. Nineteen years ago I played "1942" and "Winter Games" on a computer with a 64 kb memory, because that was as much as anyone needed anyway. Now this. I am able to go anywhere and do anything (well) in the world.

Here's some of my best tips:

- Climb Mount Everest and enjoy the view. No frozen feet. No dead buddies. None of that media hazzle when I get back. Just me, a beer, and a view.

- Crash into buildings on Manhattan. This one is probably not polically correct, but how would it feel?

- Take a helicopter ride over Sahara. See how long you can go without noticing any buildings, roads etc. Then go to Paris. See how long it takes before you're out of town.

- Take a helicopter ride through Grand Canyon. Rich folks do it. Why shouldn't you?

- Zoom out as far as you can. Set our planet to north. Tilt it 9 degrees. Spin it carefully. Contemplate life universe and everything.

/J.

Hospital Song

2006-08-25T15:27:00.000+08:00

So anyway,

I got sick and went to the biggest hospital in town, which would be this one:

But they told me to go somewhere were they admitted common folks.

/J.

Sneak preview

2006-08-17T18:49:00.000+08:00

I spend my writing time with the novel now, but I thought it might post some sneak previews here to get some feed-back on the stuff, and also provide you with some fun reading in absence of proper blogging. Here's a conversation the main character has with a dying man on domestic trouble:

- But it'll go away, right.

- Of course it won’t. It’s domestic. I can’t survive in the wild. If trouble gets in your house it will stay there. You can try to throw it out but it will come back howling at your door begging to be let in again. Sooner or later you give in to the howling and open the door. Then trouble rush in and starts to mess everything up, leaving dirty stains on your favourite chair. So you put it out again, but the stains won’t go and trouble is still smouldering in the garden, just waiting to spark again. Before you know it you have a party and trouble puts on a false moustache and sneaks in behind your fat aunt Alberta. Then you'll have trouble spreading to all your friends and relatives. I’m telling you, domestic trouble is the worst kind.

- Sounds like you know trouble.

- We’re like this. The dying man held up his right hand with the middle finger on top of the index finger. If you’re looking for trouble, you’ve come to the right place. He did the impersonation really well.

- So what do you do about it, Elvis?

- Keep it on a leach. Treat trouble like a dog and you’ve got the best ally you could ever want. You sit at a coffee shop with this big trouble tied at your chair. Some annoying prick comes up and wants to sell you something. You’ll just nod at trouble and it’ll scare away that bastard instantly. People with their trouble in check are not good consumers.

- Convenient, really.

- Then this girl comes up and say ‘Oh, it’s soooo cuuute – can I cuddle it’ and you just give her the ol’ blue gaze and say ‘please’. Then she turns to her girlfriend and whispers ‘He’s taking so good care of his trouble, he must be a good father’, pretty soon you’ll have a threesome going.

- What about trouble then?

- On occasions like that trouble will have to wait outside. A ménage à trois is my limit. Kinky is OK, but I’m not a pervert.

/J.

Trash Posting

2006-08-16T08:16:00.000+08:00

All things must come to the sea...

...and some come back.

/J.

Carrying Cathy

2006-08-09T09:04:00.000+08:00

I just started a book project so I’ve been off the web for a while. This one is taken from my oh so large archive heap of old events that I swore to put on the blog. The reason it came up now was a discussion I had the other day about any potentially inappropriate reasons for carrying a Filipina.

Last October or so S called around 8 pm on a Saturday evening. Her husband J had a friend who was lost on Mount Makiling, an old dormant volcano next to our town. J was going on a rescue mission and S wondered if I could come along too.

Sure. I threw the things I would think be necessary in a backpack, put on some hiking boots and a longsleeved shirt and J picked me up. It was not clear where or when he was lost but going up the hill we picked up another friend with more info and also got textreports on the situation.

His friend had taken five of his employees at a large American credit card company for a kick-off at Makiling. They planned to go to Mudsprings, an area of steaming hot mud bubbling out from the ground about a third of the way up to the top. When they got there, they felt hungry for more, so they made attempt at the summit, which they reached and started their descend half an hour later. They didn’t mark their entrance path though and went down on the wrong side, realising after another half an hour that they were lost and made it back to the summit. When reaching the summit they realised they would not make it down before nightfall, and with no flashlights or lanterns there was no way they’d pull off a night descend. And with no spare water or food they were not likely to make it down in one piece the next day. So the friend texted the Forestry Department to ask for help.

We reached the outpost somewhere around 8:30 pm and got the full briefing. So me, J, the Forestry boss, two other foresters got in yet another friends shiny new gold colored Isuzu Crosswind to go as far as we could on the muddy, bumpy path. On the way up the Forestry Boss inquired about the contents of everyone’s backpack.
”Well, Dried fruits, chocolates, water, extra water, first aid kit, knife, insect repellent, flashlight, extra flashlight, lantern…eh…that’s about it”
“Where are your extra clothes”
“Well, maybe I’m to big to lend them clothes anyway” I said jokingly, no really knowing what he was getting at.
“ No, for you, it’s going to be cold up there”
“ Yeah, I’m from Sweden, we don’t get cold”.
I know it was a very boisterous and un-swedish remark (I do get cold, it never happened in this country yet though) but I included it because that’s how I felt at the moment:

Going up an old volcano in the dead of night to save a group of people who were stuck there. Who might die on the top of the mountain if we can’t get to them. I know it’s not Everest or anything, but the whole idea gave me instant chest-hair. At the time I was mostly dealing with poopy diapers and screaming children and reading stories to stop children from screaming. This was Alpha-Male for me.

J’s friend with the Isuzu wasn’t properly equipped (apart from the car of course, which had gotten us nearly half way up) so he couldn’t come. The Boss stayed behind for some reason I couldn’t figure out (and didn’t really mind about).

At 9 pm the four left, Me, J, Forester V and Forester N set out through the jungle to do some serious man shit. I had a definite Lord of the Rings – feeling, just a tad to big to be a hobbit though. Maybe I could be Strider. Cool.

The first part of the way up was easy. Literally a walk in the park, even though Makiling is technically a Forest Reserve and not a National Park anymore on account of being too small. The reserve is 4000 hectares and there’s 10 foresters to look after it and stop illegal logging, poaching, trapping, settlement, guide visitors and occasionally rescue poorly planned kick-off parties. Maybe not the most gratifying job in the world, but I'd take it. We were talking about conservation issues, climbed big rock outcrops, walked along narrow trails with a wall on one side and a extremely steep slope on the other, picking some secret wild fruits that didn’t taste that well but it was good for your stamina (and, of course, your boner. Seems that everything that tastes off here is regarded as a native Viagra. I’m beginning to suspect that it’s just a male ritual, if you can eat things that tastes like shit, you’re really masculine, then you must have a good sex-drive, sort of a self-fulfilling prophecy) and I did no longer hesitate about my Strider* identity.

It took us 1 hour 45 minutes hours to reach the top where there was much gusto. The group were happy to see us. One of the young women had gotten some scratches that I could fix with my first aid kit. We cooked for them, gave them water and a few jokes. I felt like going out in the jungle to look for secret herbs to prepare my elfish back-to-life potion that would leave us all hovering down the mountain in a ball of glorious light, but settled for picking wild strawberries.

Anybody saw the hubris coming, nooo.

We were 10 people up there. 4 rescuers and 6 people in need. We where supposed to go down and be back so we could get a few hours of sleep and not ruin our entire Sunday. I thought.
You see, 40 minutes behind us were rescue-team No 2, consisting of another 9 people, including the forestry boss (why would he stay behind, he was the boss right. Why let someone else get the credit for the rescue if you’re going to be up all night anyway).

11.30 pm. - So we better cook for team no 2.
11:40 pm - They’d better eat.
11:55 am. - They’d better get some rest before the descend.
0:02 am. - By the way, you have any aspirin in your first aid kit?
0:02 am. - No, It’s a first aid kit.
0:03 am. - Why don’t you have any aspirin in your first aid kit?
0:03 am. - I never had aspirin in first aid kits. They’re supposed to save lives, stop bleeding and infection, not cure head aches. You can sniff on some rubbing alcohol if you want to.
0:03 am. - I have aspirin in my first aid kit.
0:03 am. (Well, you should have brought it then, shouldn’t you. And how about showing some gratitude or I’ll rip that bandage right off.)
0:04 am. (I am not Strider. I am Saruman)
0:10 am. - OK. We can go now. (What, and leave Isengard all abandoned)
0:11 am - Wait. One of the girls is night blind.
0:12 am - She can’t go.
0:13 am - She can’t go very fast.
0:14 am - She goes very slowly. (Thanks to Saruman's lantern by the way, that wizard stuff comes in handy)

So we go, veeery slooowly downhill. I put a white hand on trees here and there. Some singing, some playing “Mexican hat dance” on their cellphone. Three hours and fifteen minutes later we’ve reached the easy part. Half a mile to go. If we go Uruk-Hai style we’ll be there in 20 minutes. We stop for a short break, get up and then one of the young women sits down again and won’t move. The boss talks to her to see what’s wrong.

- Pagod, she’s tired (No shit)
- You don’t have any aspirin in your first aid kit?
- Still not, sorry, (I was planning to go to Mercury Drug, but the one on the path was closed)
- Any medicine that might cheer her up, caffeine.
- Sorry. Just first aid. (Dammit, I knew I should put some amphetamine in there, they do come in handy,
specially when passing customs)

(Luckily he did not criticize my first aid, or I’d had my wand kick his ass into next week)
After a minute of confusion where we at least could give her some chocolate and water, everybody sat down again. And waited. 16 men (of which 13 are from the rescue squad), 3 women. One of which is not willing to go any further. She weighs 45 kg, tops.

- Hrrm, I said to the boss, maybe we can carry her for a bit?
- No no, She’ll be fine, we just wait for a bit
- Hrrm, I said to J, why can’t we carry her for a bit?
- She’ll be fine. The boss decides.

So for 45 minutes we sit and wait for a young woman to overcome her tiredness. Everybody’s is still talking cheerfully in Tagalog. The odd “Mexican hat dance” is playing from a lone cellphone. I don’t understand shit. (I am not Saruman, I am an ignorant Orc).

Finally she gets up and 15 men, 6 women and 1 ignorant orc are walking downwards again. We walk and walk for at least 50 meters before the next young woman is to tired to walk any more.
Maybe carry this one?
It’s 4:15 am, it’s pretty safe to say that everyone’s is tired.
It’s pretty safe to say that no one will fell perkier until they’ve had some sleep and some coffee.
Nope.
30 more minutes of Tagalog and “Di-da-di-da-Da-di-da-Da-di-da—Da-Da-di-da-Da-di-da-Da-di-da“ and ignorant orc muttering.

Here is a biologist, stuck in a jungle forest reserve, on hour before dawn. Owls hooting, loads of exiting flowers, mother nature blowing a gentle wake up wind to the creatures of the forest who respond with a cacophony of merry sounds. Nowadays I actually go up early and drive up to the outpost just to hear those calls and watch some birds. Then, all I could manage was Orc-mumbles.

Finally we get up, and walk for I swear no more than three feet before tired No 1 sits down again. (I am the Orc that loses his temper and gets his insubordinate head chopped off by the Orcleader). I give up and walk ahead for another 50 or so meters, far enough to avoid the embarrassment of smashing someone’s cellphone if “Mexican hat dance” comes on again.

At 5:45 am I reach the car. At 6:30 when everyone has come down, we go. At 7:15 I’m home again with my loving wife. At 8:15 I sleep.

I’ll always remember that night, and if I was invited again (fat chance) I would go in an instant. I even have aspirin in the first aid kit now. But I have yet to figure out why we didn’t carry the ones who couldn’t walk for themselves.

/J.

*I find Strider cooler than Aragorn. I think It’s a bit of a rock ‘n’ roll thing, you know, “Well, they’re OK, but I remember their early stuff. That’s way better, more raw energy. I remember a concert I went to back in 1987...”

The most polite non-english countries of the world

2006-08-01T10:38:00.001+08:00

I thought about the previous entry and how you could use it to improve your understanding of different cultures, in the way that the translation would reflect some of the mentality of the culture in question.

The theory: If you take a simple phrase commonly used by a native english speaker, say, F*ck off and die!, then translate it to another language on babelfish and then back again you will see a gradient of politeness in the translations. If you then extrapolate that phrase to include all cultural, historical, religious, political and social aspects of this country/language you can do an easy-to-follow ranking of who are the bastard and who are the noblesse obliges' of the world.

So here it is, the complete list* of the most polite non-english countries of the world.

The Complete List TM

11. Fuck off die! - the Russians. The most bastardly non-english speaking nation of the world. Even more efficient than the original.

10. You break and die! - the French. Not surprisingly the French fight for the last spot in this event. They tried to put in some severe personal injuries before actually deceasing but didn't make it all the way this time since they lost some on sexual offense.

9. Fuck far and cube! - the Greek. Leaning back on their ancient philosophical heritage they feel they can maintain a "better than the rest"- attitude, even trying to put in some mathematical terminology to make the rest of us feel ignorant. Fuck far is even more offensive, not to say imaginative, than the original, but the tempo and catchiness of the phrase is not quite as good as the French or Russian.

8. Keep coming out, die! - the Japanese. Old habits die hard. The emperor's teaching of a superior Japan just keeps coming.

7. Fuck gone and matrix! - The Dutch. I agree with the Matrix, especially the sequels. I haven't seen Gone yet so I can't comment on it, but the Dutch cleverly divert the comment towards Hollywood thus de-personalizes any offense the subjectee may feel. It does contain the word "fuck" though, so it really can't be considered for a top spot on the polite side.

6. Throws away and die! - the Koreans. Now we're beginning to see some real progress on the polite side. This is a good attempt, the Koreans are up and coming and will surely reach top three in a couple of years unless Kim Jong Il screws it up.

5. Swept and dice outside! - the Italians. Clearly Berlusconi's fall from the political throne did miracles for the habitually spiteful Italians. They've cleaned up the remark nicely. The only set back is a bit of gambling, which still might be offensive, if only to right-wing christians.

4. Boils and dies! - the Chinese. This, which at first glance may seem a bit aggressive, is clearly colored from a nation who has the largest cuisine in the world. A competent and adroit performance by the Chinese leaving them just outside top-three.

3. Taken and dice dull! - the Spanish. It was a tight run with the Chinese. "Taken" still has som sexual tension to it, but the Spaniards make a last minute save with the "dull" in the the end. Immensly boring, but not all games are won on brilliant plays. Skillful tactical display from Spain.

2. Bumsen away and cubes! - the Germans. Maybe it was the only the World Cup, or maybe the Germans really have become this polite. Bumsen away sounds more what you'd contently do after a long night at the Bierhűtte. They make a verbal Picasso and remove all intelligable meaning to the expression, which gives them the runner-up position of "The most polite non-english country of the world"

1. It is gone to foder and it is died! - the Portuguese. What can I say. Pure Genius. The recipe: Take one expression. Remove all foul language. Add piece of gibberish. Add "its" generously to remove any tingy taste. Turn it over, it's done.

/J.

*The list of course being limited to the languages that appear on babelfish.

I will bring my proper toothbrush exactly

2006-07-31T13:33:00.000+08:00

Having English as second language means you are dependent on a good dictionary. Even then you don't get it right all the time anyway, but I take comfort in that I'm not the only one with this predicament. A friend sent a link to www.engrish.com, a collection of funny misspellings or unfortunately formulated English phrases. Just to prove the point of how hard it is to get something right in a language you're not not fluent in (or buoyant in, as my dictionary suggests) you can try to translate an English text to Japanese on Babelfish and then translate the Japanese text back to English. I tried it with an excerpt from a job application I sent a while ago*.

"I am the Swedish counterpart to Brad Pitt. My IQ is higher than Stephen Hawkins'. I bench 300 kilos easy. I am always happy, polite and energetic. I will work 24 hours a day 7 days a week for free. I will polish your toilet with pride. I will even bring my own toothbrush. Sincerly yours. LG"

If you translate it to Japanese and then back again it reads:

"I Sweden which stops Pitt with the shellfish hooked nail am equal. Me I.Q. is higher than スティーブン Hawkins'. Kilometer easy I bench 300. I happiness and politeness am always energetic. I week 7 day 1 day 24 hour work for freedom. I polish your washroom of pride. I come having my itself toothbrush. Satoshi tool. LG"

This isn't bad. You can get a lot of inspiration when you read something that might not be exactly as you'd expect it. I particulare like the "I Sweden" (some healthy Hubris right there) and "I happiness"-bits (how could I even feel depressed again). It's also good to know that that ¤&%#¤% Hawkins might not be as polpular in Japan as elsewhere.

Babelfish of course have more options. In Russians it was put slightly different:

I will be Swedish doubles to brad Pitt. My iq is more high than Stephen Hawkins'. Stand ii1 300 kilos is light. I is always happy, politely and energetic. I will work kryglosutochno of seven days in the week for freely. I will polish your toilet with the pride. 4 even I will bring my own toothbrush. Your is sincere. LG

I can't speak for "kryglosutochno" but otherwise I don't have a problem with it.

In Chinese it became:

I am the Sweden relative people sew Pitt. My intelligence quotient Beese 蒂芬 Hawkins' is high-level. I bench 300 kilogram easy. I am always happy, politeness and energetic. My day 24 hours will work each week 7 days for to be free. I will polish you to fill the sense of pride washroom. I will even bring I toothbrush. Presents respectfully. LG

Mr Hawkins apparently not popular here either. The polishing came out a bit akward but I love the finish, presents respectfully, I'll use it as often as I can.

Portuguese:

I am the Swedish counterparts to brad Pitt. My IQ more is raised of the one than Stephen Hawkins'. Easy bank I 300 kilos. I am always happy, polishing and energy. I will work 24 hours the one day 7 days one week for free. I will burnish its toilet with pride. I will bring my proper toothbrush exactly. Sincerely its. LG

The Portuguese being an old trade nation negotiated my offer a bit, that's natural, but as far as my equiment goes I'm sold (see headline).

Korean:

Me it is a Sweden boy lattice which drives the Pitt with the nail. Me the IQ is higher the StephenHawkins than. Kilo easy i bench 300. Me is happy always, it is energetic is polite. Me the free thing will work in the hazard one day 24 hour week 7th matter which will reach. Me will wipe your toilet in pride. Even me of my, oneself will bring the toothbrush. It is diligent and sincere, you. LG

As I've written earlier, Pitt is Swedish slang for penis which makes the first sentence kind of painful (specially with the lattice part). And If I were an employer I would be a bit confused with my working hours. Me o my.

And finally German:

I am the Swedish counterparts to the nail without head Pitt. My IQ is higher than Stephen Hawkins'. Bank I 300 Kilos simply. I am always lucky energetically, polite and. I work 24 hours per day 7 days in the week for free. I polish your toilet with pride. I get even my own toothbrush. Yours sincerely. LG

Mental note: do not get involved in discussions about Stephen Hawkins in China or Japan, or discussions about Brad Pitt in Germany. If I unintentionally offend someone they might get even with me with my own toothbrush. Even if I did see Brokeback Mountain yesterday I can't think of it as "lucky energetically"

/J.

*This is in no way an attempt to ridicule Japan or Japanese or any other nation or language (well, maybe the Germans) or anyone's (dis)ability to write proper English. I'll be front center at the wall where misspellers will be shot when the ProperEnglish Revolution comes. And yes, maybe I did a bit of alterations from the original application, but the major points are still there.

Just like Home, Pt II

2006-07-31T09:49:00.000+08:00

Earlier comment on homesickness here

In the vast array of huge billboard lining the South Luzon Expressway there is, if you look close enough something to remind you.....

Can't be one of the big ones...

Look closer...

Just like home.

/J.

Photogénique

2006-07-27T16:38:00.000+08:00

I'm not a photogénique person. All the Filipinos I know are. It doesn't matter if they look like Jabba the Hut in real life, on the pictures they look great. They know what their best side and angle is, how to smile, how to pose. And suddenly Jabba is transformed into a well-built man in his late thirties or a stunning model-wannabe. (I don't know any Filipinos who look like Jabba the Hut, Filipinos are generally Really Beautiful, not only in pictures. The point is if Jabba was Filipino, I'm sure he'd look good in pictures too.)

I don't know any of that. I more on the opposite, photomorónique (or maybe pictgrotesque), side. I tend not to smile since I use snus (little Swedish tobacco bags that you put under your lip). It keeps you sane, but it makes you look like somebody just hit you if you try to smile. Since I'm taller than most I tend to lean in over the other persons, making me look like I'm about to fall over. If there's no other persons in the picture I tend to lean anyway, just out of habit. I also got a terrible posture, which either looks bad, or, if I try to correct it, looks like someone put a stick up my ass. Which, of course, looks bad.

Basically, I got three modes:
1. Stupid
2. Tired
3. Intoxicated

99% of all pictures of shows at least one of these modes. (And, to be honest, pictures of me are usually taken when I´m at mode 2 and 3, which makes me 1, but anyway. The modes show at nice family outings at the beach too, where I don't drink. Too heavily.) Most of the time they all blend together making me look like a sleepy idiot on heroin.

It´s not that bad though, it kind of keeps your expectations on a healthy level:
- How did the pictures come out?
- You look like a retard!
- Great, I don't look sleepy or drunk!

You put a nice little photoalbum together to show your relatives:
- Here´s a nice on of me….
- You look like you just drank three bottles of Jack Daniels!
- Yeah, I know, I'm thinking of putting it next to the family picture by the computer (where I incidentally look stupid and tired, but not drunk.)

Just for balance.

/J.

Sex and age

2006-07-26T16:10:00.000+08:00

This one has no meaning except the title contains the word "sex", which might interest some readers.

A huge american cooperation was taking over a small Swedish firm. The boss of the HR-department in the US sent a mail to his Swedish counterpart asking him to send him a list of their employees, broken down by sex and age, to use for his statistics.

The Swede replied: "None of our employees are broken down by sex or age. Alcohol, however, is a big problem."

The Swedes: Young, horny and drunk.

/J.

Soap of the day

2006-07-25T22:32:00.000+08:00

My yaya (nanny) C had two requests today:
1. Could she leave early since it was her daughter J's (and her half-sisters R's) birthday?
2. Could she have friday off since her nephew R was getting married and they've asked C to be ninang (sort of godmother)? (R turns out to be 17 years old and the reason for marriage not surprisingly an unwanted pregnancy. C is angry with her sister for not having control over her sons)

Sure, no problem.
So she leaves at 11 or so and after lunch me and Gopher Jrs set out to get a cake and a present for the daughter. At around 1 pm we go to her house to leave the cake and present. On the way we meet a young woman (maybe 20) going to the same place. Her name was K. She doesn't want to come in with us, just to talk to C by the gate. I don't understand much of the conversation except that they have to call JA and it's an emergency. So C and K disappear into the house. I can hear most of the conversation and understand what's going on to some extent.

After about 10 minutes C comes out crying and K leaves, also crying.
"My nephews are crazy" C says, and gives me the scoop. R (and presumably, soon his pregnant wife) lives in Manila with his mother J and big brother JA, 19, and his pregnant girlfriend (no, they didn't plan to have that one either) . The father left the family some 12 years ago for another woman since JA was the fruit of an unwanted pregnancy and their relationship never really worked out. JA went to Los Baños i April for the fiesta. There he met K and her little sister C, 17. Guess who's pregnant now?

So C txts her sister J from my phone since she doesn't have load and get a furious response where J calls her a slut and blames her for "giving herself to my son". C sends another one to explain that she's using my phone. The sister replies, apologises, but is still upset because it happen onC's watch (never mind it happened twice in Manila already). Then K txts C. K also got the slut-txt and is wondering why C's sister is being so rude and what she can do about it. C doesn't know.

And then I spend and hour with C, her mother-in-law, her half-sister R (who is the same age as C's other daughter. C's father also left the family, then her mother gave up the children, then they were reunited, then C's mother found another husband who she left about a month ago. C's was up in Manila two weeks and gave the new man some heat about not keeping track of his wife. They still don't know where she is) trying to figure out who is guilty and who is not, while C's 8-year old daughter, whom she adopted 1 ½ years ago is playing with my sons.

And I think about all the times I've wondered over the dysfunction of my own family - we yell at each other and everyone got their own set of problems which somehow never seem to end - but compared to this...

/J.

General Atrophy and Major Boredom

2006-07-24T10:37:00.000+08:00

Early April I busted my knee playing beach soccer in Subic Bay (which, apart from the pain and not being able to walk for two weeks also kept me from appearing on Philippine national television, a true setback for an attention slut like myself). Three months later the knee felt completely healed and so I made my comeback. It lasted seven minutes, then I had to be carried off again.

Now I’m back to immobility and decay, slowly realising that my body does not carry the strength or respond like it did ten years ago. I’ve always looked down on 40-50 year old, slightly overweight, men (yes, always men) who make New Year’s resolutions about getting fit the coming year. Then they run half a marathon on the 3rd of January, completely unprepared, getting blisters and sprains and legs so sore they can’t be bothered to do any exercise whatsoever for six months. And now I’m one of them.

So the plan is to visit the gym.

The idea of repeatedly lifting things just to put them back in the same place doesn’t make sense to me unless it involves my pelvis and my wife. There was a time (when I was young and foolish) when I worked as a fire fighter and I got caught in the culture of a daily workout. A true, manly workout which included lots of heavy iron slabs and very little of stretching and motorically challenging exercises. Now, ten years older and wiser I prefer sports like soccer (A true, manly workout which includes lots of running and very little of stretching and motorically challenging exercises).

So the plan is I’ll do three sessions a week including lots of cardio and stretching, the probable outcome is I’ll do two sessions total and then revert to waiting until it feels good enough to play soccer again. Better bring my own stretcher to the first game.

Getting old sucks.

/J.

Going South

2006-07-20T11:26:00.000+08:00

Did you ever get that feeling when you are in the Supermarket?

First, the slight rumble when you enter and then, when your cart is almost full and your kids are getting seriously impatient, the insufferable pain in your southern region when mr Bowel sends a supercilious message that you should have listened to the warning shot and it's now to late. As soon as you move, you're doomed.

The joys of last night has turned into an unstoppable flood, going south (I do have a beer belly, it just doesn't grow on me). And now your too far from the men's room to get there in time, a mile from home and with two innocent children to protect and care for.

So, what do you do?
I did bring some diapers for my youngest, but no way they can stand this, and besides there's nowhere to hide.
Just let it all go in a Fight Club manner (as I remember, they edited out a scene just like this for fear of negative public response) and walk proudly to the cashier? No, not there yet.
Fake a knee injury and have someone wheel chair you to the toilet. No, the faking part will without doubt end in a real accident.

You just wait for the pain to loosen its grip, walk a couple of meters until it sets in again, stop to casually inspect some produce, walk again, stop, stratch your chin and wonder which of the excellent choices of pasta you should buy, walk, stop, ponder over if I really need some "I-can't-believe-it-isn't-cheese" until you reach the place in the store closest to the place of your dreams. Then you have a small conversation with your son, act suprised, and then DASH for the men's room.

Now, this is perfectly OK, because as we all now, kids don't have perfect control of their bladders so when they gotta go, they gotta go. Nobody will flinch if you're in a hurry to the toilet as long as you got a kid under your arm. I'll save you further details but all is well that ends well.

The good thing about experiences like this is that the rest of the day will float by in a shimmering golden light.

And no, I won't post a picture to this one.

/J.

A call for help

2006-07-17T16:04:00.000+08:00

The Philippines have the highest textmessage/capita rate in the world. EVERYBODY does it. Even my maid and yaya have more sophisticated cellphones then I have (Not that I have any top-of-the-line gear, but given that helpers' salaries are quite low, not to say embarrassingly low, they'd have had to put in at least a months salary just for the phone)

I regulary get about two text messages a week saying "wanna b my txtm8? pls txt bak" or somehing similar in shorthand Tagalog. I never reply to them anymore, after a initial mistake with a guy who turned out to be seriously gay and my wife started to wonder if this "Andy" really was a man.

Apparently people pick a random number to see if the person in the other end is lonely too. FDLP*-theory would be that when a densily population nation with a extended family culture gets urbanised, detached city people search for a substitute to cover up their rootlessness. A friend of a friend spends about 2000 PhP/months on text messages, equals about 60 a day.

Anyways.

This is my car. Sometime this morning an individual left an important message on it.

I prefer the "I wish my wife was this dirty".

/J.

*Four-drinks-later-psychiatrist

In search of the Swedish soul

2006-07-13T16:40:00.000+08:00

Living abroad makes you aware of your own heritage. Right now I'm in a patriotic mode (in the good sense of the word). The last week I’ve been thinking a lot about my home country and what separates her from other nations of the world, how much of my manners are due to the fact that I was brought up there.

What is Sweden besides The Nobel Prize, Volvo, IKEA, Saab, Ericsson, ABBA, Greta Garbo, Ingemar Bergman, Linneaus, sparse interior decoration and a muppet chef?

Part I: Vocabulary

The picture above shows a famous Swedish poster from WWII. The words could either mean “A Swedish Tiger” or “A Swede keeps silent” which was the intent of the poster, i.e. don’t be an informant (to the Germans or Soviets, anyway).

The spirit of the poster lives on (or maybe it's always been there) since Swedes, in an international comparison, is a very quiet people. Maybe we don't have a lot to say, maybe we're just boring or maybe there's just not enough of us to make ourselves heard.

The only Swedish word I know that have been adopted in most of the western world is ombudsman (representative), which is an institution that citizens who feel they are wrongly treated or discriminated in a certain issue can turn to, to get justification. In Sweden there are lots of ombudsmän, one for children, one for people with an ethnic background other than Swedish, one for the press, one for people with (legal) sexual orientations that is not hetero (abbreviated HomO, and yes it means the same thing in Swedish) etc. It's not a weltschmerz or zeitgeist trendy word that you would use in New York, more a Brussels kind of thing, but you couldn't have chosen a better word to export to depict a society built mainly on social democratic politics for the last century. With a huge public sector, but also with an intent to care for every citizen.

Big Brother doesn’t just see you, he listens to you as well.

/J.

And reading it now just before I published it I realise that I did not keep to the topic or answer any question, but hell...I'm only learning.

Just like home

2006-07-10T00:31:00.000+08:00

Just back after almost six weeks in beautiful Sweden. So many stories of trust and love and roots and friendship, but the real sense of place appeared before I even got out of the airport. There's a big bin in the hall in front of the customs with a sign kindly informing travelers that hash is forbidden in Sweden and any person carrying such a substance can throw it in the bin, otherwise they might have trouble entering the country.

It makes me think of Lou Reed and it makes me happy.

I've seen the bins in other countries too, but your always supposed too put fruit or food there. But we don't want that stuff. No half-eaten apples here please. Give us the good shit.

/J.

Not Like home, Pt III

2006-05-25T11:12:00.000+08:00

Apparently you can do a lot of things with a bucket of building blocks.

/J.

Top Ten this that will not happen to you in my burrow, No 9

2006-05-22T11:10:00.000+08:00

9. The driver in the car behind you will not be overly annoyed if you stop at a red light

I was going down to Batangas and ran into a red light at a crossing, where I, as a result of my previous schooling, stopped. (I would have done it even if it were no traffic. Here there were cars coming in from both sides). The car behind immediately started honking and my Filipino friend J, who was sitting next to me wondered what I was doing, stopping in the middle of the road like that.

– “Is something wrong”
- “It´s red”, I said, pointing at the lights.
- “Oh, that. No, nobody takes notice of the traffic lights here. Just go with the flow”

Traffic in the Philippines is nothing like home but it basically boils down to one single aspect:

A brief acquaintance told me about the first mail he ever received in the Philippines. It had a short tag in the end, like a randomly selected word of wisdom, which read: ”Welcome to the Philippines – where the law is just a suggestion”. When you realise that what you learned about traffic rules are just suggestions, driving is much easier. Here are some tips:

1. There is the general right of way if you’re coming from the right. But it’s modified to include the size of your car. Thus, if you have a big car (= high status) the right-rule only applies if you meet another big car. Otherwise you get right of way from the I-got-a-bigger-car-rule.

2. Traffic lights, if you can find them, has the following colour code
Green= GO!
Yellow= GO!
Red= Look before you GO!

3. Stop signs, where I’ve learned that you must come to a complete stop has been modified to mean ”you might consider shifting down to third gear before you GO!”

4. You communicate by honking and flashing. Don’t be afraid to use it. This span from the courteous “I’m coming”, “Thank you”, “Please pass” to the usual “Get out of my way” and “…and your mama” honks.

5. Streets, even highways, are public spaces inhabited not only by cars, jeepneys, tricycles and motorbikes but also children, basketball matches, food vendors, and dogs. All non-vehicles except dogs will move when you come.

/J.
The picture shows the signs telling you how to get out from SM Southmall. I tried to stop to take the picture, but a security guard had other ideas so I had to go around to get this fantastic paparazzi shot.

Tits and Boobies

2006-05-21T21:38:00.000+08:00

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For G, who gave me the chance
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About half way down to the resort I told G:
- Elegant tit right there.
And it was an elegant tit, nicely displayed, full frontal. We stopped to look at it for a minute or so.
- Not exactly something you go home and tell your wife.
- Nope

G’s wife of course was standing three feet away, and the tit was a Parus elegans, one of 175 or so endemic bird species in the Philippines.

The birdworld is full of innuendos. The Paridae family of course have created numerous imaginative names: Great Tit, Sultan Tit, Stripe-breasted Tit, Sombre Tit, Varied Tit, Turkestan Tit and my favourite the near pornographic White-Necklaced Tit. Then there's the more enigmatic Tit-Like Dacnis, Mouse-Colored Penduline Tit and Fluffy-Backed Tit-Babbler. (I think I’ve seen one or two of those in various bars).
And if you’re not in the forest looking at tits you can always go to the beach to see the Boobies or Shags.

It does make you wonder what bird taxonomist get off on:
- Look Donald, I found a brand new species of bird in Borneo!
- Kickin' ! Watcha gonna call it?
- Haven’t decided yet. I’m thinking 'bout ‘Golden-Breasted Jug’, or maybe ‘Melodious Hooter’
- Sweeeet.

What about the ladies? No, there are no hunks, no beefcakes, no Georges' and no Clooneys. There are an extreme amount of –peckers and –cocks, but to my experience this has never been a key factor in female first impression towards male. Rather has it been an icon of masculinity thus further emphasizing the chauvinist naming of birds as general. The penis-innuendo birds span from the male-fantasy flavoured Guianan and Andean Cock-of-the-Rock, Cock-tailed Tyrant and the elusive Dickcissel to the more patronizing Jameson's and Woodhouse's Antpecker. One might wonder if Jameson and Woodhouse named these birds themselves, and if so, why?

Bird taxonomist has not been so outspoken with their affection of the humour of the rear end. You have to explore the Latin names to find the Arses (monarch flycatcher), Poospiza (warbling-finch) or Turdus (thrushes).

To their defense there are some true jesters:
- a recently extinct parrot from the Marquesas Islands got the name vidivici (Steadman & Zarriello, 1987). The genus of course was Vini (in use since 1831).
- a Hawaiian Harrier Hawk in the genus Circus got the name dossenus (Olson & James, 1991). Dossenus means clown or jester in Latin, “without which one cannot have a circus."
- The Father of Natural History Linnaeus named the Hoopoe Upupa epops, almost 250 years before this activity became popular. (The Upupa part of course being street for "your papa" thus making the name into a question, alledegly from the male Hoopoe's desire to have a mate with a technically advanced father). The same year he named the Roseate Spoonbill Ajaia ajaja. “Aj” is equvivalent to “Ouch” in Swedish, which makes me wonder if his secretary misheard him when he dropped something heavy (e.g. a spoonbill) on his toe.

Since there’s usually a valid etymology to the names it’s hard to accuse taxonomist of being sexist or chauvinist, but would the names be different if the natural sciences historically would have been a foremost female affair? Would the Pitta be named Pitt instead (incidentally, Pitt is slang for penis in Swedish so there we go again)? Would we have stood in awe admiring Bulge-Chested Banderas, Tender Lovebirds or Dark Italian Strangerbirds? One will never know.

/ J.

The ornithological meaning of the word tit allegedly has Scandinavian origin but according to wikipedia is derived from 14th century English denominating something small. (We have two regular Parus species in Sweden called –tita. The other members of the Parus-genus save for one is called –mes, which means wimp. Another great example of Swedish chickenhood). The word Booby is possibly based on the Spanish slang term bubi, meaning “dunce”, as these birds had a habit of landing on board sailing ships where they were easily captured and eaten. Shag refers to the bird's crest as in the hairstyle meaning of the word.

Not Like Home, Pt II

2006-05-18T09:47:00.000+08:00

Yes it’s a Waldorf salad. Yes of course it should be small pastel coloured marshmallows in it. Whadduya mean it looks tacky? Nooooo

/J.

Top Ten things that will not happen to you in my burrow: No 10, May 17 2006

2006-05-17T11:14:00.000+08:00

If you compare Fairydale with my usual burrow you’ll find it hotter, dirtier and infinitely poorer (in the monetary sense of the word). You’ll also find that gophers are still gophers with the same need for love and confirmation, who go about their lives with the same general elements of work, family, friends and the occasional chewing on tree roots. The most interesting differences lie in the small things.
Here’s the Top Ten List:

10. If you take a walk in the rain no one will kindly inform you about the current weather condition.

This has happen to me numerous times, especially if I bring the Gopher Juniors, which generates the following conversation:

Kind person with masters in meteorology: Sir, It’s raining….

Me: Yes. (Oh, it that what it is. Back where I come from we don’t have rain you see. I thought somebody was offering a free shower. You mean there’s no sprinkler? How does it work then? Where’s the faucet? Rain, you say, interesting word...does it happen often?)

Kind person with masters in meteorology and apparently not totally blind and def: Sir, you have kids…

Me: Yes. (Oh, is that what they are. Thanks for informing me. It’s really good that you told me ‘cause they've been following me around for quite sometime now, and I really don’t know what to do with them. They keep asking me for “ice cream”, do you know what that is?).

Kind person leaves since I am clearly beyond rescue.

Yes, of course I know it is important to be clean here, and bringing your progeny to the mudpool they call playground will not leave them in a shiny state, but really. I might be a Gopher, but I’m not that stupid.
/J.

Not Like Home, Pt I, May 17 2006

2006-05-17T01:06:00.000+08:00

Please make sure that you do not wipe your ass with unhygienic recycled paper. Go for that rough feeling from a right-from-the-pristine-forest, you-can-almost-smell-the-endangered-species roll.

/J.

Smooth Ride, May 16 2006

2006-05-16T15:13:00.000+08:00

The season’s first typhoon - Caloy - just left Laguna leaving a body count of 23 and rising. On our behalf it meant brownout (that would be blackout to the rest of the English speaking world) for 36 hours. Less than 100 kilometres away 5000 families were displaced. A couple of hundred people die every year from typhoons, floods and landslides in the Philippines.

The war stories from our neighbourhood would be something like:
“There were leaves everywhere, man. They just came right off the trees. Some of our plastic garden chairs even fell over.”
“The power was gone for so long we had to eat all our ice cream….”
“It was so cold I had to turn off the aircon in my car…”

The worst trauma was the kids anger when the TV broke down right in a Thomas and Friends episode.

/J.

Lone Gopher, May 15 2006

2006-05-16T15:05:00.000+08:00

Howya.

/J. (Gopher)