Letter from the Colonies

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Mon 10 May 2004 01:28
Letter from the Colonies - THe Growler
Today is Election Day in the Philippines. This is the usual mix of fiesta, comedy and violence. As usual we have the JI, the MILF, Aby Sayyaf and a host of other loonie toon r******s on the fringes, SWAT chaps with sniffer dogs in shopping malls all that. Whoever wins whoever doesn\'t will cry foul and so on and so forth.

Anyhow it\'s a good day to be confined to barracks, so Growlette is slouched on the couch watching cable and I have not a lot to do. As ever if my ramblings have no relevance to you the \"DC\" option is always there.

My annual pilgrimage (an increasingly reluctant one) to UK is due shortly. Normally this is to visit my lovely mestiza daughter from marriage #2 in Tunbridge Wells, followed on this occasion by a visit to Edinburgh to meet some American and Kiwi pals from the days when we ran the world for DHL. I am certainly looking forward to that. What I am looking forward to less is the getting around bit.

They say comparisons are odious. Well I\'m going to make some, and indeed they are odious.

Driving myself in UK is no longer an option. I find it very scary and extremely stressful. Since the early 90\'s a sheer rudeness and aggression and disregard for others has emerged in the way people drive. The proliferation of petty regulations, the endless restrictions and the jungle of signs and the constant worry you might be breaching one of them distracts from the task of driving safely and in my view is more likely to contribute to accidents than prevent them. They seem to foster and promote irritation which then manifests itself in behaviour at the wheel. If as a visitor in an unknown place you falter or perhaps ease off for a second working out what your next move should be some boor is up your tailpipe flashing his lights, blasting his horn or making obscene gestures. How you people manage this day to day and hold down full time stressful jobs as well beats me.

I used to rent cars at LHR. If you rent one there\'s nowhere to put it when you\'re not using it. If you do find somewhere you think is OK, Dracula\'s daughter clad in black and laden down with radios and barcode scanners materialises from nowhere -- usually an ethic minority with the accompanying chip on the shoulder and proceeds to deliver a lecture. The words \"sir\" and \"please\" and \"can I suggest...\" do not appear to figure in this apparition\'s vocabulary.

When you finally do locate a place, the daily rate would keep the average Filipino family of 5 in fish and rice for a week.

Driving in the Philippines is manic. What road rules there are are honored more in the breach than in the observance. But there is an understood code: you both go for the same bit of road space, whoever gets there first, c\'est la vie, no offence. You defintely do not give the Italian salute, he may have a gun in ther glovebox. Speeding actually is not widespread and while driving standards are universally awful there isn\'t anything personal about it. Although unregulated it is nowhere near as stressful. If you want to go out for the evening and get ripped your neighbour\'s brother will drive your car, wait for you, bring you back for the cost of a case of beer (currently about £3.50). It\'s all very manageable. Every establishment has a security guard on the door and if you tip him P20 (that\'s about 5 pence) he\'ll watch your vehicle for you.

Taxi hire in UK: I have a very nice driver chappie who will pick me up at LHR and take me to T/Wells. He has a comfortable Vectra and is very chatty and reliable. He charges £75 for an hour and a bit journey. I have no doubt this is reasonable.

Taxi hire in Philippines: MNL airport to Angeles City. Similar distance but a bit further. Cost 1600 pesos 200 tip. That\'s £18. Oh and you have to pay the tolls that\'s all of 25 pence for the 70km highway. You get a nearly new Hi-Lux van, icy cold a/c, cold beer on board (extra of course: 15 pence a can). DVD and video. Let\'s say you\'re single and travelling alone, you e-mail your hotel ahead of time and he\'ll bring along a pretty young female companion (or two if you want) for the trip. Shock horror that will double the cost.

Now then: getting around UK. 2 years ago I paid £51 return from Liverpool St to Diss in Norfolk. In the Philippines that buys a 2 days one night package to Puerto Galera, a beautiful beach resort. Or else a 3 day fly anywhere-in-the-islands promo on SeAir. That was my first and last experience with your glorious rail system. Oh, and it was 40 mins late both ways. Having said that I have used National Express a couple of times for long trips - London to Newcastle and I definitely rated them for on-time performance and value for money.

Oh sure I hear you cry these comparisons are irrelevant! Well they aren\'t to me because they affect me directly. On a fixed income if I\'m thinking where and how do I spend my money.........

By comparison I have no hesitation about renting and driving in the States. Driving standards are good, road courtesy is good (OK Boston and NYC excluded) and society is geared around the automobile. In Britain it\'s geared against the car, diametrically the opposite.

I guess all this came about because a group of us wizened exiles were round the bar last night giving the JD a nudge and trying to work out what we are all doing here. Our companions listened to all this then chorussed \"what about us?!\"

Well, let\'s get the TV on and find out who\'s going to win. It\'ll be Ate Gloria for sure, but that will stir things up. But then that\'s life in my adopted country. It gets a lot of bad press, not all justified, so here\'s a little plug from me:

www.wowphilippines.com.ph

Nice site.

...growler out/







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Mon 10 May 2004 14:01
Letter from the Colonies - expat
I have found some hassles with driving in the UK but put up with it because the options are worse. Trains are dearer than hire cars and not as convenient although I don't mind missing out on long motorway trips. Buses are only good on National Express main routes. London to Glasgow was Ok. Leeds to Birmingham was shocking and put me off the whole idea of buses completely. Car hire when you are doing it by the month is not too bad price wise. Driving is mostly still quite courteous but there are some idiots. I had one right behind me flashing lights and blowing his horn when I visited Chester. I pulled over to let him past and he then stopped right in front of me blocking the road. I thought he was in a hurry but he was just looking for aggravation.

Three lane roundabouts fill me with horror. I haven't had an accident on one yet but it is just a matter of time. They have started to build roundabouts here in Australia over the last couple of years. A total blight. What do the Aust taxpayers fund the Quarantine service for if it is not to keep out noxious foreign pests like roundabouts.

After thirty years away from the UK I have definitely found that the hassles seem to be getting greater. The worst thing is the exchange rate which makes everything so expensive. Great for you Poms going abroad but deadly for any one visiting the UK. On the other hand I still like the place despite everything and I wouldn't mind spending a few weeks going round the Hebrides on the Calmac ferries. Weather permitting.
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Mon 10 May 2004 14:33
Letter from the Colonies - Aprilia
If you stick to the speed limits and use your eyes, driving in the UK is not that bad at all. I believe the road fatality rate is the lowest in Europe and lower than the US - that must say something.
I travel about quite a bit (15k+ miles per year) and in 25+ years of driving I have never picked up any kind of 'ticket'.

I must confess that I do prefer driving in many foreign countries - Germany, Scandinavia, Canada, NZ. What spoils things in the UK is the minority of very aggressive and arrogant people we have here. Makes me laugh when I hear people say that the Germans are arrogant - they have nothing on the British middle class male (and increasingly, female) in his 'executive' car.

That aside, things are OK.

As to costs and services etc. - well, I guess that comes down to relative wealth. A friend of my wife's visited the Philipines in late March and was much taken aback at the widespread poverty and disregard for life. Apparently 30 million people live on less than $1 a day. I guess that helps keep prices down and ensures a steady supply of compliant workers for the service industries.
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Mon 10 May 2004 15:52
Letter from the Colonies - Robin Reliant
I guess driving in the UK depends on where you live. I spent most of my life round East London and Essex and just lived with it. When I moved to west Wales nearly three years ago it was like going to a different planet. Very little agro from other drivers, everyone is used to getting stuck behind the odd tractor for a mile or two and just sits back and waits for them to turn off or pull over. Consequently, when they follow Flat Cap doing 35 in his Rover they just adopt the same chilled out attitude. In London he would be dragged out of the car and beaten to death.

What they call a traffic jam down here would make any big city dweller laugh. When I first moved down and people used to remark how busy the rush hour was in town I used to think they were joking. It starts at five and is all over by half-past, probably adding no more than ten minutes to your journey time. You'd be in fits listening to the local radio station as they try and emulate the nationals with their traffic reports, they get excited if more than five cars are queuing at one of the few sets of traffic lights down here. The day the school bus collided with a car they went ga-ga, devoted every news bulletin to it for the rest of the day, interviewed the school's head master and even sent a reporter down for an on the spot report. I think the car had one of it's indicators broken.

On my infrequent trips back to the smoke, I cannot believe how I survived on the roads. The sheer volume of traffic and the aggression of drivers is actually quite frightening, even the shortest trips seem to take forever no matter what time of day or night you set out, and the state of the roads is appalling.

I'm glad I got out, I reckon driving in the South East must knock about five years off your life.

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Mon 10 May 2004 17:02
Letter from the Colonies - frostbite
Growler - if you are making fairly long distance journeys, why not buddy up with one of the many holders of private pilots licence lurking in the Biggin Hill area?

I am sure you could make a mutually beneficial arrangement without breaking the terms of their licence.
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Tue 11 May 2004 03:37
Letter from the Colonies - THe Growler
Now that's a good idea. I would resonate well with the Philippines where everywhere is islands and gras airstrips. We have a lot of retired ex-USAF pilots here with their own planes and I've often used them.....hmmmmm
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Mon 10 May 2004 17:44
Letter from the Colonies - NowWheels
Makes me laugh when I hear people say that the Germans
are arrogant - they have nothing on the British middle
class male (and increasingly, female) in his 'executive' car.


Absolutely right. The bullyboy drivers are rarely the ones driving a five-year-old Renault or Toyota -- the menace is generally the one in a Mercs or BMW or other "prestige" brands.

I rather suspect that the sense of "prestige" which these drivers feel they get from the car is fairly closely linked to the drivers' lack of good manners to those in less carefully-marketed brands.

Sadly, I agree too that an increasing number of women in that sort of vehicle seem to drive in the same aggressive style. Looks like they've bought the whole package!



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Mon 10 May 2004 17:54
Letter from the Colonies - teabelly
Their prattish nature seems to be inversely proportional to their engine size with the 1.6 drivers being particularly awful. I am sure Freud would have something to say on the subject :-) Better be careful what we do say as we'll get the thread pulled again like that other one that got a bit out of hand. I think it featured BMW drivers again, oh dear.... Mind you I did see a total plonker with an M3 convertible the other week so perhaps I may have been maligning their capacity unfairly!

For balance : I have seen prats in all types and brands of car so it isn't just the germans :-)
teabelly
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Mon 10 May 2004 23:05
Letter from the Colonies - Aprilia
Well I have to be honest and say that I'm a past BMW driver and a current MB owner (and member of the owner's club). However I do try to drive carefully and courteously - in the hope that this will in some way 'balance' those who drive MB's like they own the road.
I blame the marketeers for a lot of this - I remember there was once an MB advert which proclaimed 'the only car with built-in right-of-way' - I think it got pulled, didn't it?

Anyway, I've noticed that in Germany there is much less snobbishness about cars. There's plenty of petrolheads, mind you, but you don't seem to get the 'look at me, I've got a BMW' prigs over there and road manners (with a few exceptions) are generally rather better.
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Tue 11 May 2004 03:43
Letter from the Colonies - THe Growler
OT but I think your lady made the common mistake of applying the Western consumer-based economic model. Growlette's family in the province live virtually free off the enormous bounty of the sea and what they grow on the land from their own labour.
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Tue 11 May 2004 11:31
Letter from the Colonies - BrianW
It's difficult and probably meaningless to make comparisons between such different economies.
In the UK you can't get away with much less than £10 a week for heating and lighting, then there's £30 a week Council tax, rent or mortgage say £100 a week, £5 a week for water/sewerage.
And that's before you eat or travel anywhere.
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Tue 11 May 2004 11:52
Letter from the Colonies - Aprilia
It's difficult and probably meaningless to make comparisons between such different
economies.
In the UK you can't get away with much less than
£10 a week for heating and lighting, then there's £30 a
week Council tax, rent or mortgage say £100 a week, £5
a week for water/sewerage.
And that's before you eat or travel anywhere.


"Things cost" - anywhere in the world. Clean water, health provision, education, roads, streetlights - all of these 'public goods' cost money.
I have never been to the Philippines but have been elsewhere in SE Asia and seen the appalling poverty and dreadful living conditions. People in the West don't know the half of it. There are whole families living out their entire lives on a rubbish tip (quite literally) scavenging scraps thrown out by the better off.
That is something to contemplate when we complain about a bit of squeaky trim on our new car!
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Tue 11 May 2004 12:00
Letter from the Colonies - Mark (RLBS)
Building on what Growler started...

My Mother in Law is coming to England for a month. She is a truly awful driver who comes from a country of truly awful drivers.

However, in Chile they just go around her, or philisophicaly sit behind her until they can. They just ruefully stare, and occasionally dive for cover, as she completes yet another mind-boggling manouver. It rarely, if ever, gets personal.

She is insistent that she will be driving when she's here, and no matter what I say she is not listening.

The problem is that the drivers are *SO* aggressive here; no mistake is tolerated, not 1 mph under the speed limit is acceptable and it virtually always gets nasty and personal.

The trouble is, I used to be exactly the same. I only learned calm driving when I moved to Latin America and the alternative involved getting shot. I've been back pushing two years now, and I'm still not used to it.

I am considering going away for a month and would advise all of you to avoid the Bicester area in June.
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Tue 11 May 2004 14:09
Letter from the Colonies - patpending
For sure Growler, a fixed amount of cash buys very varied amounts of goods or services from country to country. The on-the-road price of my car is 20% higher in the Netherlands than in Germany and salaries are comparable between the two countries.

Funny how driving and attitudes vary between countries.

Aprilia said "Anyway, I've noticed that in Germany there is much less snobbishness about cars. There's plenty of petrolheads, mind you, but you don't seem to get the 'look at me, I've got a BMW' prigs over there and road manners (with a few exceptions) are generally rather better."

It's true to say that in current circumstances (4 million unemployed) the better-off Germans are not very ostentatious. Silver/ grey is the colour of choice for the car rather than a definite colour (some years ago "hello there!" red was in).

However, there is a very strong snobbery which is not immediately recognisable to a Brit. Say you drive a British, Japanese, French or Italian car and you eventually realise you are describing a "second class" choice - technically suspect, poor safety (how many airbags), iffy quality and purely by "not conforming" not the right choice.

Compared, say, to Belgium, German driving is very good and nearly all drivers cope with traffic on one and the same road travelling at speeds from 80 to 250kph with associated braking distances.

However there is a dangerous undercurrent to this which is most obvious in the design of the new Audi grille (which I call the "Meowth" look). The move to ever more aggressive car fronts is chasing an ideal the Germans call "Overtaking prestige" - will the car in front get out of your way?

this and the quasi-religious fervour with which the "no speed limit" sections of autobahn are defended culminates in an attitude like that of "Turbo Rolf" who crowded a young mother so badly that she crashed and died.

Rolf was a test driver for Mercedes-Benz.

So curiously people who are henpecked or feel unfulfilled in their daily lives use the autobahn to play out their fantasies. I hope these people discover PlayStation instead soon.

SO if a car appears in your rear view mirror like the opening credits of the Sweeney, get out of its way when safe...

pat
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Tue 11 May 2004 16:00
Letter from the Colonies - Aprilia
Totally agree, PatPending. The tailgating on the Autobahn was the 'exception' I was referring to. However, I have to say I think it has got better over the last few years (and probably got worse in the UK).

You are also correct that not driving a German car makes you a bit 'suspect' - but I always thought that was down to patriotism!!
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Tue 11 May 2004 17:17
Letter from the Colonies - THe Growler
Yes, I qualified my post at the outset by saying comparisons are odious, conventional wisdom etc, and those I was about to make would be odious..using motoring as a vehicle (as it were) to reinforce to myself why I live here and not there.

Funnily enough just been in my local drinker: a Dane, an Australian, a German and two Brits all celebrating being back!The Dane: I can't afford to drive there, the Oz, Jesus can't even have one beer mate and they're waiting for you outside the pub car park, the Brits, well the cost of petrol etc and the way drivers are so uptight.......

.....Brian said hardly been back in the PI a day and got pulled. What for ? Oh, the usual one, "swerving" (for which read white guy in large 4 X 4 here comes beer money). Pay him off? Nah, just asked him who his commanding officer was. Col. Alvarez sir. Oh yes, I play tennis with him regularly. Would you like me to call him and clarify this situation? (all BS of course). Oh no sir, that won't be necessary you are free to go sir.

(guffaws) It's great to be home!


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Wed 12 May 2004 15:23
Letter from the Colonies - patpending
Growler - a Dane, an Australian, a German and two Brits went into a pub. The barman said "Sorry lads, you're in the wrong joke" :)

Aprilia said >>

"... The tailgating on the Autobahn was the 'exception' I was referring to. However, I have to say I think it has got better over the last few years...."

Tailgating is one of the key things police monitor here. Penalties are big. There are even tailgating cameras on certain downhill stretches (as I know because idiots in Alfa Romeos (not representative of the good Alfa drivers I'm sure :) ) make it a sport to overtake you and slam on their brakes under the cameras to give you a bad reading)...people are more wary of it than they were as you say...

As for patriotism, curiously enough cars are recorded as "non-imports" by marque and not by country of manufacture. The MINI counts as an import but the US-made Mercedes and BMWs do not.

Probably a Spanish-made Polo is "domestic" and a German-made SEAT is an "import"...the SEAT driver is the suspect one!

pat
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Mon 17 May 2004 12:56
Letter from the Colonies #2 - THe Growler
As always, click on by if this has no interest for you. Appreciate no ethnocentric cultural judgements please, live here first -- then make your point. Mark courteously said keep on posting, so I will keep it motoring with some related reportage. I will defer to his good judgement as to compliance with BR standards should I stray. A small celebration of life.....

This is the same post going on my motorcycling forum.

Last couple of days the rains have arrived a full month early: these are not your gentle English rain but 12- inches- floods- on- the- highway-in-20-mins rains. It is wonderful to see everything turn lush green overnight, hibiscus, frangipani, camelias, even my orchids are looking a bit more cheerful and the occupants of my small aviary are celebrating the relief from the heat. My small lawn has gone from brown sienna to vivid green in 36 hours. But,alas, it marks the end of the riding season.

And what a season it's been since November. Us 6 with our ladies behind us have piled on the miles. Our best was 800 km in 24 hours on country roads. We've done the beaches up north, and south, the mountains and the city bar-hops not to mention the Angeles City red-light district (more than a few times!). We have partied with the American Steel Riders, the Manila Mad Dogs MC and the Krimson Kross riders. We have ridden long hard and fast and have ribbed each other over a lot of Jack Daniels and 18 oz Porterhouses about how you/I/somebody chickened out on that bend back there etc etc. We have done serious jobs on ourselves and have woken with monstrous hangovers and craving for the huge-fry ups and more beer that hangovers seem to inspire. Our women of course have taken advantage of this temporary incapacity and have inveigled spending money for the mall while we talk about the next day's ride. Such is the natural order of things and long may it last.

Not one of our Harleys ever missed a beat this whole summer, despite the heat, the road conditions, the occasional dubious fill of gas. What great bikes they are. Growlette going to sleep behind me at 100 mph on the North Expressway, wizened old ladies hacking off the tops of coconuts by the roadside and overcharging us with toothless grins, little slips of lovely girls saying hey Joe you want mango when you stop for gas with a smile that makes you feel like the ultimate churl if you don't succumb (as they know you will) , crabs as big as your fist and 6" prawns that had been in the ocean just an hour before, thrown on a barbecue, mountains of garlic rice, fresh mango and durian (ever had that...got to be strong), balut, which is an egg with a duck embryo in it -- supposed to enhance male performance, it's revolting but in this macho society if you don't try you're a wimpo, being invited impromptu by the village mayor to his fiesta - 3 whole roasted pigs turning over the coals -- the cheek is the best bit -- (but don't get drawn into the card games!), gallons of ice-cold San Mig, walks along the beaches, skinny dipping with no one for miles, your girl massaging the knots out of your shoulders and thighs after a long hard ride on country roads........bad case of windburn on the arms because I wore my vest not my jacket...Growlette nagging, gets out the SPF20, yeah stupid me.

My Texan mate Greg, all 325 lbs of him dropping his Hog on a 1-in-4 hairpin uphill gravel hairpin curve on a volcano. Ever tried getting a 650 lb Harley upright in those conditions? Took 4 of us. He should do better he eats half a cow at one sitting and then goes back for more...

Leaving at dawn in the cool to get up into the mountains for steak and eggs breakfast at Tagaytay - 45 min blast on empty roads .I take the lead because I like to go balls out round the bends on that route, know it so well. Jean Pierre always complains I ride too fast. I say last one in pays for breakfast, maybe that's why. You can sit on the deck at Starbucks and watch the sun come up over a volcano that sits within a lake in another volcano. It never ceases to take my breath away.

The snake farm at Mt Kalimaya. Snakes of all kinds to look at. Snake on the menu too, grilled or as soup. Not bad, tastes like....er....chicken? Growlette wolfs hers down, I am a bit more circumspect. From my days in Hong Kong and China I know snake heats the blood so I say maybe if I'm riding not such a good idea.

But the heat. Excessive this year. We instituted mandatory stops every hour - 38 C. Philippine gas stations are generally very well equipped with shops and food courts, even out in the woop-woop. Dehydration is an insidious thing and you don't realise it setting in. Especially for the girls with their slight frames and 100lb bodies. So lots of Gatorade. Once or twice we got hold of the hoses they use to wash cars and drenched ourselves from head to foot. After an hour of riding we were bone dry.

Stunning scenery, volcanoes, jungle and endless empty beaches and traffic free roads, but you had to beware, you could be barrelling down a two lane concrete highway with nothing on it at 100 mph then come across a wooden bridge that the the US Army Corps of Engineers must have built when they re-took Bataan! Greg named the road from San Fernando to Tugegarao "Clenched Buttocks Highway", with good reason.

Perhaps the most satisfying of all was this. The bikers and the bar owners got together and chartered a plane to take 42 street kids from the orphanage around the spectacular lake in the crater of Mt Pinatubo (that's the volcano that blew up in 91, caused the US bases to close and messed up the world's weather). We took them back riding round the airfield, they all got a burger and a drink, a t-shirt and a balloon, then a clown came along to entertain them. I haven't seen for ages such a polite, well-mannered, disciplined little group of kids since I was educated in the UK when education meant something. Growlette was marvellous, getting them all organised to line up for rides on her little Virago. The pleasure on those little brown faces was a sight to see. Something we shall certainly do again.

But hats off to our ladies. The Filipinas are not only lovely to look at and have no gender hangups, and they are really good sports, they'll have a go at pretty much anything with their man. Some of them are mean riders, too. Riding is always fun but with our ladies along truly it's a real experience. They keep us in line as well, believe me.

Sadly we lost one bro from another club this week. A Pajero drove him off the road because the driver didn't look. Driver is a Mayor's son, so he'll likely get off scot free. There may be a protest organised if so we'll be there. Big motorcyclists' rights movements in the PI and we have made some inroads.

Growlette lost the last few weeks because of her bad leg, so she dances in yesterday saying woo-hoo no more cast, holding both halves of it and saying what should I do with this. I said put it on e-Bay. Can we celebrate at Hard Rock with Josie, Roselle, Marjorie (continues...) NO. The food is awful it's overpriced the service is lousy and the music sucks. We're going to find some good old rock n roll in a local Filipino joint and see if we can muster enough support for a final ride this weekend before trhe typhoon season closes in.

My 160 rear is looking a bit sad (chicken strips included) and the front has been chirruping a bit on the curves, it's a narrow one even at best.. Testament to a great summer I guess, thank you Mr Dunlop but it's time to talk to Mr Metzler. Better get some more pads for those calipers as well from the US. looking a bit thin. Ah well, testament to a lot of fun, good companionship and a summer well spent. And thank you Mr Harley and Mr Davidson for such well-engineered and dependable machines with character thrown in.

... Jean-Pierre, Bertrand, American John, Greg and Larry, c'mon guys one more ride this weekend. I fancy that blackened swordfish down at Coral Beach. You know that place where you choose your fish out of the boat when it comes in? I'll bring the Jack, OK? Line up the ladies...mine's ready to rock, she said so, Can't stop thinking about it........text me.....Starbucks on President Ave 1030 Saturday, usual rules, everyone must have eaten, cellphones fully charged, full gas tanks, I'll be the lead as usual.......

...growler out/
+




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Mon 17 May 2004 13:25
Letter from the Colonies #2 - patently
Always a pleasure to hear from you, Growler.

When's the next flight out of here?
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Mon 17 May 2004 13:33
Letter from the Colonies #2 - Mad Maxy
Growler, this is tempting me to head down your way. Life seems good. And rather better than on this God-forsaken isle.

Durian: wow! From what I hear they smell like vomit. But I imagine the taste must be a bit better. I'm dead impressed.
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Mon 17 May 2004 14:15
Letter from the Colonies #2 - billy25
so your rainey season has just started.......so has ours...but over here we call it summer!

billy.
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Wed 19 May 2004 14:36
Letter from the Colonies #2 - Chad.R
Durian: wow! From what I hear they smell like vomit.


Actually it smells worse than vomit..... but tastes pretty good considering. Just remember to never, ever, stand underneath a Durian tree when in fruit.

Great post Growler,

Chad.
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Mon 17 May 2004 14:23
Letter from the Colonies #2 - blank
Great read Growler. Thanks,
Andy
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Mon 17 May 2004 21:15
Letter from the Colonies #2 - malteser
I never fail to read a "Growler" post! Always good value
Roger.
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Mon 17 May 2004 22:00
Letter from the Colonies #2 - hillman
Talking about travelling in hot weather... In Central Africa the distance between towns was about 100 miles, and althogh the temperature was not quite as high as Growler describes, a cold drink was heaven. There were canvas bags on sale which, when filled with water and hung on door handles, acted like chillers (evaporative coolers). Stop every 10 miles or so, put orange concentrate in a cup, top up with lovely cold water. Marvellous! No air conditioning in those days.
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Sun 23 May 2004 04:18
Letter from The Colonies #3 - THe Growler
Trying to cut down on the posts, 'Er Indoors has especially been a bit vocal lately, but I though Backroomers might get a laugh out of this one.

Nice weekend:

Got arrested (I mean that's arrested, i.e. hauled off to the nick) Saturday night for going down a road I always go down which has "suddenly" become a one-way street (for which read foreigner alone in car + cops looking for beer money). Annoying, if I'd had the bike I could have out-run 'em, they'd never get the licence plate cos it's mounted vertically and not lit.

So I gave this guy a lecture on how he should be chasing buses with no tail lights, smoke belchers etc, not persecuting innocent foreigners when the Philippines is trying to drum up tourism. I must admit he looked a bit shamefaced. Everything is 1000 pesos fine, but the long standing resident has a print out of the true fines from the LTP website, so of course I produce that and that caused a bit of head-scratching, these bozos never expect that.

He took my license and said it's almost expired (which it is but still valid) and the photo didn't look like me like that was some sort of offence but I got it back when he went off for a moment and wasn't looking. Otherwise I would have had to go to a hearing and found guilty (no one is ever found innocent, because there's no money in that). Cost me 200 Pesos to the Police Beer (strike that) Benevolent Fund tho'.

Yesterday I pull into a Shell station to gas up behind another car. This is the classic Filipino scam. Driver leaps out starts yelling I'd hit him and to pay for the damage. I knew darn well I hadn't, I had Sharon (my masseuse) and Carla with me, two g/f's of mine, he probably thought I was another dumb white monkey with a couple of bar girls. This is classic. Guy has some damage to his car and tries to get someone else to pay on the pretext they caused it. Oldest one in the book. So I get Gerry my attorney on the cellphone and invite the accuser to have a conversation with him and of course the idiot backs down at once. He'd even mustered the forecourt pump guy as a witness and two nearby traffic enforcers, no doubt all in hope of a share in the loot. Best to drive off asap in such circs, you just never know. Not a mark on my car, naturally.

I didn't have Growlette with me. She is fearsome in that kind of situation. I'm thinking I should take my Glock 9 mm out of the glove box and leave it at home, where it's supposed to be anyway. I might just be tempted to use it!

Added to that Typhoon Dindi has been chucking it down. Floods all over.

7,107 islands. Love 'em or leave 'em. I think I'll stay though (been saying that since 1993).




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Sun 23 May 2004 10:40
Letter from The Colonies #3 - volvoman
G - are you sure you're not in Lewisham ? :)
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Sun 23 May 2004 10:44
Letter from The Colonies #3 - THe Growler
LOL I checked my passport entry stamps, says I've been here since November. What's special about Lewisham? Do they have synthetic oil there?
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Sun 23 May 2004 11:00
Letter from The Colonies #3 - volvoman
Just the similarity between some of the local inhabitants, their chosen hardware and their 'relationship' with the police which rang the bells :)
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Sun 23 May 2004 11:32
Letter from The Colonies #3 - Altea Ego
Not to mention the "you hit my car scam" very popular in parts of south london.
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Sun 23 May 2004 12:41
Letter from The Colonies #3 - THe Growler
Is that right RF? I thought that stuff only happened here?

I have had an attempted carjack once but not this.

Truly this guy was an SOB. It wasn't the resigned but mostly polite conversation exchanging documents when you've had a ding with somebody (not that I had). This a-hole was potentially violent.He yanked open the passenger door (mine was locked) and he and his mates started abusing Carla, my friend who is a little slip of a girl 4 foot 10 or so. If he'd touched her I would have gone for him. I have a gun, probably not a good idea. She was terrified.

Anyway there was a gathering crowd of "witnesses" (for which read white foreigner=money)so I just pulled out of the forecourt, floored it and ran a red light.

Two lessons we always teach at motorbike class here. Fully charged cellphone with your attorney's number on it and a disposable camera at all times. I always keep a Mace Spray on board as well but this time I didn't think about it.

Understandably Carla and Sharon were very upset. I stopped at a Starbucks and settled them down.

Oh, well, love it or leave it :+D
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Sun 23 May 2004 14:03
Letter from The Colonies #3 - Altea Ego
Oh yes it happens. Choose a car with one driver, then you take the car with three mates as "witnesses" and you have "you hit my car scam" this is then added to the "We all got whiplash injuries" and you have a nice growing scam.

This is of course added to the "choose a nice big expensive car" hit it gently up the back, driver gets out to examine damage, finds himself staring at a gun or knife and wooosh off goes the expensive car.

Dont get me wrong, its not common but it happens and there have been at least one murder this way to date.
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Mon 24 May 2004 04:39
Letter from The Colonies #3 - THe Growler
Yes I should have remembered at least one thing from my executive security training course years ago and that was stay in the car (which I didn't). My mistake was Carla's front passenger door was unlocked (I'd just picked her up 5 min before and I forgot to check), allowing this piece of ordure to open it and get threatening. Poor little kid was petrified. I wish I'd had a couple of my Rugby mates with me so they could have sent him home to Mummy with a re-arranged face.

Problem here is you never know if the other guy has a gun or not.
Moral: lesson re-learned. Pull up to a vacant pump, keep doors locked. I was sloppy about personal security and I shouldn't have been, Lord knows the places I've lived and worked in my time and should know better.



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Mon 24 May 2004 22:05
Letter from The Colonies #3 - hillman
I was almost hijacked in Zambia by a group of ?Freedom Fighters?, six or seven big fellas. I had dropped off my passenger a few minutes before and had forgotten to lock the passenger door. One held my right upper arm with his left hand and tried to to punch off my head with his right fist. The second climbed in the front passenger door (Wolseley 6/110), and hit me backhandedly with something heavy. When one hit me it spoiled the aim for the other. If they had co-ordinated, one to pull and one to push, then I would have been out of the car, and might not be writing this. Then again, I might not have this permanent damage to the right side of my face. When my dog ran from the house they decided to go. She was a Ridgeback/Great Dane cross, lovely affectionate dog, but BIG. The driver?s side door looked as though it has been sprayed with an aerosol.
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Tue 25 May 2004 06:40
Letter from The Colonies #3 - THe Growler
What is shocking is the sense of personal violation. One's car is after all an extension of one's personal territory. The fact that that this low-life tried to drag a helpless little girl out of the passenger so he could get at me was especially unpleasant.
The couple of gorillas with him were about to move in as well.

I was simply not on the ball. That door should have been locked. I have a Mace canister always in the cavity in the driver's door but I couldn't use that because Carla was in the line of fire. My mind was thinking don't go for the gun in the glovebox, he's probably got one too.

To cap it all the usual armed security guard that gas stations have stood by and watched it all without moving.

Just lucky that I was able to back up enough to drive off with this loonie hanging off an open passenger door and my attorney answered the phone. That shut the guy up toute suite. I was thinking if he won't let go I'll wipe him off against an electricity pole, never mind the car damage.

Really dumb and I'm still mad with myself with my experience of hazardous environments over 40 odd years that I would let that happen. Sorry for the unload, no more on the subject.
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Tue 25 May 2004 10:01
Letter from The Colonies #3 - nick
These experiences put getting upset about speed cameras in perspective.
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Tue 25 May 2004 23:05
Letter from The Colonies #3 - hillman
Growler is correct. Being alert, prepared, and assessing the situation is everything. I saw my assailants walking in front of my house, and when I knew that they had seen me I drove in front of them and got out of the car to open the gate, totally ludicrous!

A second incident that nearly got me killed was when I drove across the Kafue river bridge around midnight at about 15 mph. First mistake - I knew that the speed limit was 5 mph. Second mistake - I didn?t see the Zambia army corporal guarding the bridge. He was lounging inside one of the pillars. As I approached the other end an armed Paramilitary flagged me down and said quite pleasantly, ?This one wants to speak to you?. The army corporal ran up, very drunk, enraged that I had ignored him, and totally unreasonable. My wife and children were crying in fear. I was very humble in my apologies as you might expect. He had his rifle pointing at my face and screaming that he was going to kill me. If it hadn?t been for the presence of the Paramilitary he might have done so.

Both of the above occasions resulted from my own carelessness
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Wed 11 Aug 2004 11:26
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - THe Growler
Well, it's Monday, right?

My driver's licence is due for renewal. It expires every 3 years based on one's birthday. In the old days one spent a whole day lining up amongst hordes of people at one of the dreaded Land Transportation Offices around the megalopolis of Metro Manila and commonly employed someone to do that for you. What you got was a receipt which allowed you to drive, but it could be as much as 90 days and any number of visits before your licence was ready.

Our good lady President (5 foot 2 in her socks) whose hand Growlette has shook in fact, decided this was not good enough and put a rocket up the intimate parts of the LTO a couple of years back.

Now we have little LTO offices everywhere, mainly in shopping malls, on line to the central computer, where one can renew one's licence in an hour or so. So, yours truly decides to try this out.

Go to Window One and fill out the form. Why do they want my mother's maiden name? No idea and they don't know why either but I do. Go to medical check. A delightful young nurse in a starched white uniform says sit there and I will take your BP. Lovely face (hers, not mine) knits in expression of concern. I find I am "borderline". I ask would roses and champagne and a night of exquisite pleasure do the trick? She says no but 100 Pesos would. So far so good. Get the box on the form ticked.

Then on to the eye test. Spot of bother reading the line below the red mark so nurse obligingly says never mind, read the line above. Fortunately her phone rings at that moment so while she answers it I get a quick look at the line and memorise it. No worries. Box on form suitably ticked. Fee for medical exam cert paid.

Now we have to do the needful into the bottle in the Drug Testing Unit. Have to sign a form owning up to what alcoholic drinks have been consumed in last 24 hours. Lie through teeth and say 2 beers only. What they test for is amphetamines and so on. Come up negative on that, but medic remarks with a laugh maybe I should drink my own urine, it's 40 proof and cheaper than Scotch...... I hope he's joking.

Then outside to Window 3, from which a digital camera protrudes. A young woman official obligingly offers a comb so that thinning locks can be suitably arrayed for a smart appearance on my licence. I have to provide digital signature on a pad which goes on licence. Get this wrong and am sternly reprimanded to do it again.

Then sit outside under the awning on plastic chairs with the other applicants chatting to an interesting Filipino-Chinese lady about Kerry's chances of election who is waiting similarly for 30 mins till called up again. Have to sign book and pay money (about 2 quid). Get receipt and a shiny new licence with a microchip in it valid for 3 more years.

Call Growlette who is waiting in pub meanwhile say on my way for lunch, want sizzling gambas, Java rice and a bottle of that Chilean white. Set 'em up.

Maybe the DLVA could learn something here......;+)
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Wed 11 Aug 2004 11:40
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - PoloGirl
Maybe the DLVA could learn something here......;+)


What, that it's a good idea to let people who are medically unfit, can't see and drink too much blag their way to staying on the road?
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Wed 11 Aug 2004 11:45
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - Mapmaker
Gently, PG.

I think that in that part of the world Growler's ability on the road & attitude to safety far exceeds that of the locals.
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Wed 11 Aug 2004 11:46
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - Mapmaker
>>based on your birthday

So does that mean it's happy birthday, G?
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Wed 11 Aug 2004 11:59
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - THe Growler
I guess I have to admit that it is.....

My post was made TIC with the benefit of a life spent working and travelling among many different cultures with an appreciation of how things work in different places.

I read the Tao and Sun Tsu is always on my bedside table.
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Wed 11 Aug 2004 12:33
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - Mark (RLBS)
>>What, that it\'s a good idea to let people ...........

Steady on, lets not take life too seriously too often.
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Wed 11 Aug 2004 12:16
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - Algernon
Hello Growler.

Belated birthday congratulations.

Keep up these letters, entertaining and interesting.

Ta!
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Wed 11 Aug 2004 12:26
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - THe Growler
Thank you sir. The BR is one way of keeping up my links with Britain and I was very privileged to meet HJ and some other dedicated BR-ers a while back in London. A most enjoyable p.m. and a vindication of the BR. My colonial contributions may not mean a lot to all on this forum, of course, but motoring-wise in Asia I see so many funny things which, when matched up with UK motoring standards, make me laugh and want to share them.

I leave it to the moddies to adjudicate.




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Wed 11 Aug 2004 12:32
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - Mark (RLBS)
Nothing to ajudicate.

Your note made me smile, especially given memories from South America.

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Wed 11 Aug 2004 15:29
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - terryb
Your note made me smile, especially given memories from South America.


Was it the bit about the bottle of Chilean white Mark?
:o)
--
Terry
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Wed 11 Aug 2004 12:42
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - patently
My colonial contributions may not mean a lot to all on this
forum, of course


They probably still make more sense than most of mine....

Keep 'em coming, Growler.
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Wed 11 Aug 2004 13:10
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - El Hacko
Continue to Growl away as often as poss, pse Big G
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Wed 11 Aug 2004 13:53
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - Febus
Don't know where you are growler but it sounds a lot like my experiences of driving in Vietnam. Except I paid someone else to go and do everything while I sat on the beach.
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Wed 11 Aug 2004 14:29
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - SjB {P}
What a great read, G!

Brings back 'happy' memories of my time spent working in the Middle East.

> Needed mother's birth certificate for most licences and utility connections.

> Eye sight test: Enormous capital letter "E"s pointing in different directions. So enormous infact that you would have to be truly near blind not to be able to say which one 'pointed' where.

> MOT emissions test: Rev. REV. REEEEEEEEVVVVVVVV! No smoke? Passed.

> MOT brake test: Does the pedal go to the floor? No? Passed.

> MOT paint work of the day: "Your car has failed." "Why?" "The paintwork is in poor condition" (It wasn't, but this was just a demonstration of who had the power)


I should add that the MOT was conducted at a government run centre with absolutely no diagnostic or other kit in sight! Just join a queue, and when you got to the head of it, speak to the oik who decided what he wanted to do.
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Thu 12 Aug 2004 00:11
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - THe Growler
Don't want to labour this SjB but you reminded me of the annual registration procedure in Bahrain. You could indeed be failed for "poor paintwork" or if the examiner felt a bit off that day it could be "unsuitable colour". But what always terrified me was going to the Police Fort in Isa Town, being told to stop on the white line then accelerate and jam on the brakes. The marks on the concrete wall in front said it all. If you didn't hit the wall you passed.

My loyal employee Ali Qurair dealt with all this stuff -- his uncle was the man in charge of the Traffic Police, thus such matters were easily resolved.... ;+) Bottle of Black Label at Eid al Fitr etc....
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Mon 16 Aug 2004 02:09
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - madux
Could be worse - you could try living in Swizzland, where the Police do all the MOTs. My father had to change 13 lightbulbs, 'in case' they didn't last another year.
Your car or bike will fail if it's dirty.
You are not allowed to wash your vehicle in the street - you have to go to a garage with special filters in the drains (actually not a bad idea until you find out that all their sewage goes into the lake untreated, but washes up the French side!)
He also had to fit new discs on his Alpha. Becuase they were rusty.
Ask me about his (domestic) oil tank.
We don't live in such a police state after all, it could be worse.
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Wed 11 Aug 2004 14:21
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - borasport20
Growl on, Old Man ! ;-)
(ducks for cover)

for light relief and contrast to the nitpicking we sometimes descend to, nobody does it better.

I shall remember this post when my tax is next due, as I trawl round Bolton looking for a post office (17 closed in last 12 months) that actually does car tax, is open when I can get to it and doesn't have an infinite queue of lottery ticket buyers, pensioners, and people who want to send wedding videos to granny in Australia by some means which is insured as it is the only copy of the video, but they want to argue about the cost being more than that of a first class stamp...

I think I prefer the oriental way

p.s. Growler, just to convince you you're better off where you are, I know you'd appreciate knowing that when the Post Office announced the closure of the 17 sub post offices, they said it was to
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
improve service to our customers


you have to get out of the car sometime
so visit www.mikes-walks.co.uk
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Wed 11 Aug 2004 14:31
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - patently
improve service to our customers


thereby suggesting that the previous service had been worse than none!

Sounds reasonable - only at Post Offices do you encounter "anti-service" - a little known substance that annihilates true service if they should ever come into contact.....
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Wed 11 Aug 2004 21:46
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - hillman
One time I was parked in Mufulira, Zambia, when a senior police officer asked me whether the MOT on my old Morris Minor was up to date. By carefully looking at the disc at various angles we were able to ascertain that it was - it had been filled in with blue biro, and bleached by the sun. The policeman was not unfriendly, but very firm. "When you next bring this car for MOT it must all be the same colour"! (The police did the MOTs there.) The colour was originally light green, but it had been washed through the red oxide undercoat and down to bare metal, which had rusted. So. it was effectively camouflaged.
I bought a tin of enamel and a few sheets of emery, and when my 14 & 12 years old sons returned from school in the UK I set them the task of painting it. Condidering that it was spray enamel they did a creditable job. Well anyhow, it was all one colour, .
When I took it for MOT the officer put his head against the wall and said something in Chibemba which set the whole queue laughing. On my requeast a kind gentleman translated "Why on earth did you do that?" I bet that is what he said! I replied indignantly, "My children painted that car!" It passed.
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Thu 12 Aug 2004 10:08
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - Citroënian {P}
A good read there, takes me away from the humdrum of office life for a few minutes, so keep em coming!

(In fairness to the DVLA, I swapped my old paper licence for a photo one the other week and from dropping the form through the postbox to getting everything back was five days (over a weekend). Pretty good, but I didn't get to see the pretty nurse ;-)


--
Lee
MINI adventure in progress
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Mon 16 Aug 2004 09:25
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - Ian (Cape Town)
Delightful!
Our local chaps have stuffed it extraordinarily when it comes to licenses.
Basically, many of the locals driving about purchased their licenses.
There are adverts daily for 'driving lessons - guaranteed pass!' in the papers. An expose on the tv a while back did nothing to stop these clowns, who will load up a bus full of potential drivers, ship them out to some rural area, where they pay a substantial amount of cash, and are issued with a squeaky-clean new license, by a corrupt traffic dept official. That is problem #1...
Problem #2 occured when it was decided that the 'old' license, which was printed into your identity document, was either a) prone to forgery; and b) had bad connotatins with the past - the ID document was what lead to the hated pass-laws and civil disobedience.
So they tendered for a NEW system of credit-crad licenses.
Problem #3
Nodoby went to get them.
Then, days before the 5 years in which to get your new Credit Card sized license expired, the govt annoucned that if you didn't have one, you were no longer eligible to drive. Cue massive queues and 12 hr waits at licensing departments!!! Yeehah!
I did mine earlier (smug!) and it involves giving them 2 x passport pictures, taking an eye test, filling in a form, and sticking your thumbprint onto a bit of card.
Come back in 6 weeks.
NOW we have problems #3 and # 4!
The tender for making the cards went to a certain my Shaik - who has fingers in a lot of pies, and at present is 'heavily implicated' in the scandal involving the vice president, Mr Zuma, and Thomson CSF the French Arms manufacturers, where it alleged that Mr Zuma took a very large brown envelope to award Thomson some arms contracts - brokered through Mr Shaik.
But I digress.
His company produced a tacky-looking card with picture, signature, thumbprint and some barcode-type thingie on it. BUT his design fell short of what was required, as the card doesn't have a person's full name - just the initials - and is therefore INVALID as a form of identification! Bizarrely, when I get my car license renewed, i have to produce my ID Book - despite the fact that the drivers license was issued at the very same office!
THEN the car hire lads started getting shirty - the license only shows date of issue for THAT card (which has a 5 yr expiry) and NOT when the license was originally 'earned'. So prove to a car rental company that you've been driving for longer than their stipulated 2 years? No, you can't!
THEN, due to the simpleness of the card and design - a bit of card in a laminated plastic thingie, the local lads discovered how to, using basic computer scanning and graphic technology, forge them... They bust a 'syndicate' recently, who had allegedly flogged a few thousand of the things!
Oh well, back to the drawing board!
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Mon 16 Aug 2004 10:22
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - Brill {P}
Ah, the backroom's 'G-Spot' is turning into a real gem, keep 'em coming Growler.
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Mon 16 Aug 2004 10:27
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - THe Growler
Well compared with that the Philippines is relatively orderly!

Your point about renting a car. Avis or whoever always want 2 forms of ID as well as one's licence. By law anyway I have to carry copies of my passport with me, so that's number one (sorry Hertz is Number One, unintended pun there).

For number two I normally use my old Bahrain Central Population Register ID card. I figure if I lose it it doesn't matter whereas something more precious might get mislaid.

"Ah, but sir, this card has expired".

"Yes, I know, but it has a picture of me, even my weight (that IS out of date) and my height. Surely you can see it identifies me as me".

"Ah, but sir, it has expired".

"Well, I haven't expired -- yet-- and if you cross check this with my licence and p/port you will clearly see I am one and the same person. It is still valid evidence of my existence as I stand here in front of you."

"Sorry, sir, but it is de regulation".

"Oh, well I'll just try National down the road then, maybe they'll be more helpful".

Counter agent's mental processes can be seen doing rapid calculations of lost commission..."for a while, sir, please take a seat while I prepare the rental agreement".

(continues)........

As a resident we can normally rent a self-drive. Tourists are generally compelled to have a driver at a daily rate plus meals.
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Mon 16 Aug 2004 12:03
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - Ian (Cape Town)
The company, for some reason or other, has decided that we of a certain standing qualify for company Hertz gold cards. Delightful - as it means an upgrade 90% of the time! There is also FREE parking at the airport, which is a big Plus, as well as getting your car valeted by the chaps there.
Unlike ANOTHER company we USED to use, where swopping of tyres, batteries, removal of car radios etc was the norm ...
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Mon 16 Aug 2004 13:01
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - expat
The Phillipine system sounds quite good apart from the staff taking backhanders. Can't blame them too much considering the income that they probably have to live off. Of course things are much better in Western countries or are they? Here in Western Australia the papers have just been full of stories about the giant stuff up our Govt have made of the new computerised licence system. People sending off money and forms and not getting licences back. Licences made out wrong. My friend got an unlimited licence for a motorcycle which would let him drive a Harley. He has never even been on a moped. Now an old folks group who were collecting stamps off used envelopes for charity got delivered a heap of envelopes from the licencing people with the forms and cheques still in them! Total shambles. Growler you can send Gloria over to put a rocket up our bunch also. Sounds like she did a good job.
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Sun 22 Aug 2004 18:05
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - budu
The reason I had to take a new test on retiring from Malaysia was the "lisen kopi-o" ("coffee money" i.e. bribe licence) prevalent there. It was said that part of the instructor's fee went to the tester. The learner passed unless he or she ran over a policeman during the test - which would have been a tactless thing to do anyway.
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Mon 16 Aug 2004 13:29
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - Altea Ego
"I ask would roses and champagne and a night of exquisite pleasure do the trick? She says no but 100 Pesos would.

So 100 Pesos is better than roses champagne and a night of passion? you must be one ugly old dog Growler!

(TIC of course!)
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Mon 16 Aug 2004 18:57
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - THe Growler
I'll thank you for not so much of the "old", RF.

Actually 100 pesos is the regulatory fee anyway, I was just being TIC and jesting with an oriental blossom to pass the time till the bars opened.

Now I find they have omitted the motorcycle restriction on my new licence, so I have to go back and remonstrate for a replacement. One good thing, my hair looks simply awful on the photo dear, so I get the chance to visit the barbers and have Francisco prance around me tut-tutting and scolding me while he attempts to make me look presentable.

But this is not all. We are in the typhoon season. The rain starts and I joke not, in 15 minutes there can be 10-12 inches of water on the road. It always reminds me of those Vistavision movies where a ravishing Ava Gardner would emerge from the jungle in torrential rain with her hair and clothes plastered revealingly to her skin followed by an equally drenched Robert Mitchum in a safari suit. Or was it Clark Gable? Wasn't Rock Hudson, he kicked with the left foot I believe. Anyway....

One of the pleasures of this is seeing rice-boys in their make-believe Mitsubishi Evos having created miniature macho tsunamis stuck motionless in hub-cap high water not wanting to get their baseball caps wet while their intended sits distinctly ungruntled filing her nails while he figures out what to do next. Turn the bass down might be a good start.

Today similar occurred and Growlette calls in a panic car won't start. Fortunately this is nearby so I drive to find her, roll jeans up to the knees, take off shoes and paddle through the hub-high water, trusting that yesterday's garbage truck hadn't left anything behind, let alone the local pooches.......

I carry her to dry land (see what a gentleman I am, good job she only weighs 48) and learn that the problem is simply a loose battery terminal. Get out the pliers and car fires up at once.
Good job she didn't have this on the expressway all alone.

What do I get for this? Quote I've just been in the beauty parlour, look what my hair is like now. Why that stupid car do that? Look at you, you're all soaked, change your clothes.








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Mon 16 Aug 2004 21:56
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - hillman
The only time I was upgraded was by Europcar at Brussels airport. For months on end we used to arrive on Monday a.m., pick up a car for the week and then deliver it back on Friday. Some Fridays, due to strikes or bad weather, it had to be delivered back at Dusseldorf or Cologne. The upgrade was from an Astra to a Chev Eldorado. When I looked at it it was on the lowest floor of that very tight carpark. I ended up waiting for a Vectra to come in (and straight out).
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Tue 17 Aug 2004 04:35
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - THe Growler
The best thing about Brussels is that the airport Sheraton is (or was) right across the road from the arrivals area so I was always able to visit that wretched city on business with the need for minimum interaction with it, I simply summoned the local office management to the hotel!

However on the one occasion I rented a car there (a Pewgot I think, one of those tinny things from Les Grenouilles, anyway) they took me to one of those hote quiseen places where a miniscule piece of food of undiscernible origin which is not yet dead and has a name taking up a whole paragraph costs $150 and is slammed down in front of you by a waitress with permanent PMS and a face like a prune.

While I was glumly pushing this unappetising piece of ordure around my plate and longing for an Aussie meat pie with mash and gravy there was a big bang outside and a great deal of commotion and shouting in Belgian. We all got up to have a look, and found that a combine harvester had managed to demolish my rental car along with two others.

No wonder the EU ended up in Brussels. They deserve each other.....
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Tue 17 Aug 2004 10:37
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - J Bonington Jagworth
Excellent, G (especially the description of the food).

I dread to think how much paperwork resulted from the combine harvester incident - or did you just sneak away in the ensuing chaos?
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Tue 17 Aug 2004 12:04
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - THe Growler
No worries, got a taxi back to the hotel, a plane to LHR next a.m. and let the local station manager sort it out with Europcar and the chap in the John Deere, who turned out to be drunk in charge of a combine harvester. I think I got some later charges on my Amex card, which I disputed and were eventually settled (memory going back about 12 years here).

When I got back to base the Ball & Chain (as was) did I get sighs of relief I was OK? Oh no, it was why didn't you bring me back from Brussels one of those little miniatures of the little boy syphoning the python......


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Wed 18 Aug 2004 02:18
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 4 - madux
Ah, those Belgian Prunes!
Was it $US or $Singapore?
One of them fits into a suitcase, but I can\'t for the life of me remember which. Sounds like a bargain to me.
By the way, he\'s not syphoning - he is PInkSSlurrydIciNG!
Will that get past the mods?
Hopefully all too busy riding Vespas and listening to old Who tracks I hope.
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Fri 10 Sep 2004 09:38
Letter from the Colonies Vol.5 - THe Growler
Disclaimer: persons of an easily bored nature should click on by :+)

Growlette, while a good Catholic Filipina, like many of her countrywomen, finds it hard to discount her Chinese gene. Thus I get frequent lectures about karma and how my sins will be repaid with interest if I fail to be nice to people. If a lifetime in Human Resources management bequeathed me anything, it was, with a few exceptions, an abiding distaste for the human race en masse. Thus the notional column of my karma account nearest the window should be fairly hefty by her reckoning.

However, if karma hasn't been at work this week, I need to eat my words. Maybe it should be "car-ma"........

A few weeks back, Catherine was involved in a scrape with a very ancient Toyota Tamaraw (means "buffalo", a sort of all purpose pickup produced in the early 70's). Appears she was pushed aside by the simian driving the thing, who couldn't be be bothered to wait, while trying to negotiate a gap between parked vehicles, and sustained a scratch on the front wing of her car. This was just down our street and so the residential security were called, a great many notes were taken, much shouting ensued, all the housemaids turned out to have a good look.

It turned a bit nasty when said simian followed her to our door. His left front wing was well rusted and hanging out at the seam, the headlight was drooping on its wires, and the driver door wouldn't shut properly. The whole caboodle was clearly rusted past redemption.

Well of course this little piece of ordure, spotting an opportunity where a foreigner was involved, decided all this wreckage was my partner's fault. Being a long time resident of where I live I was waiting for this and wasn't in the least surprised. As a precaution I took photos of both vehicles, which sent him further off the lack of self-control scale. I then called our insurance broker, who faxed off a list of the docs needed for a TPL claim, and gave this to the complainant. Copies of license, reg, all that stuff.

Next day, said simian turns up with quote for P30,000 and a detailed description of work to be done (almost a rebuild of his pick-up's entire front end) and demands payment. So I call up my good friend Ferdie in his garage down the road to give me a second opinion. After he's stopped holding his aching sides with mirth he looks at Catherine's car, looks at the pickup and agrees that no way could her car have contributed to the depredations of 30 years of neglect on the pickup. My Tagalog wasn't quite up to the dialogue which followed, but clearly had to do with pineapples and sensitive body parts.

Unfortunately, as they say in Australia, this idiot had a herd of kangaroos loose in his top paddock, and, as the weeks went by, several calls of a threatening nature from the pickup owner were received, so we double-locked everything at night and I made sure my 9mm was locked and loaded and under the pillow, and thought about getting a pit bull. Appears the insurance company after examining both cars had denied his TPL claim, unsurprisingly. By July when I was in UK things went quiet, though I sent Catherine to her Mum in the province as a precaution.

Well, as said, the weeks went by. The scratch on Little Miss Muffet's car wasn't that bad and anyway she said she was too busy to take it into the shop.

Now then, karma or what. On Monday, Herself was parked outside the bakery getting my breakfast cinnamon rolls and iced tea, double parked actually, well everybody does it. As she was paying there was a bit of a commotion outside and she saw that a vehicle had somehow clipped her rear bumper while trying to pass.
Yes, sure enough, it was our friend in the rickety pickup. The usual kibitzers with nothing else to do gathered for the anticipated entertainment of two drivers about to embark on a yell-fest.

Now Growlette is no pushover, this was outside our residential sub-division, and a public road, so traffic comes under the aegis of the National Police. She gets out her cellphone and dials 117 to get an officer to attend. At this point our once belligerent tormentor breaks down and begs her not to, he can't be involved with the police, he has no licence or insurance. His truck is his livelihood etc etc (cue violins, roses, etc) He will gladly pay for both the earlier scratch and the bumper repairs so long as she doesn't involve the police.

Chinese business acumen and karma combine at this point. She insists the work be done at Ferdie's garage, so off they both go to get an estimate. Ferdie demands and gets the money up front. On Wednesday her car goes in and she collects it today Friday with a big grin.

"What's the self-satisfied smirk for?" I enquire. "Guess what", she said,"this hijo di (snipped) agreed to pay the damage. OK. Then I noticed 10,000km service coming up so I got Ferdie to service my car and put it in his bill. You owe me dinner."

I am converted. I do now believe in karma. I just hope mine doesn't catch up with me too soon......

Growler out
+
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Fri 10 Sep 2004 12:20
Letter from the Colonies Vol.5 - andymc {P}
Brilliant, Growler, absolutely brilliant. To quote that great leader Hannibal:
"I love it when a plan comes together!"

--
andymc
Vroom, vroom - mmm, doughnuts ...
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Mon 11 Oct 2004 10:11
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 6 - THe Growler
"Something bad is going to happen, I know it".

Thus spake Miss Philippines as we are strolling along a leafy boulevard in a pleasantly balmy Saturday night temperature of 23 C or so. We have just enjoyed an excellent plate of char-grilled blue marlin and local swordfish fresh from the ocean that day with a bottle of icy Pinot Grigio and a salad made in heaven, and are on route to catch the 11 pm floorshow at a favourite nightspot.

At the point Herself makes this remark, a black cat dashes in front of us, leaps on a ledge, arches its back and gives us a baleful stare. Growlette comes from a province renowned for its seers, witches and readers of the supernatural, so I'm used to this stuff, although I must admit the cat thing is a bit Hitchcock-ian.

"See that? Now I know it", she says. "......ks!" I snort. "It's only a stupid cat". "You don't anything you white people", is the standard retort. "Go and check your car. Something else is going to happen, I feel it but I don't know what".

Dammit, it she's right. We pass my parked car and some vandal has keyed the whole side of my car, not once, not twice, but thrice. Right down to the metal. The security guard right opposite saw nothing, they never do. Oh well, let's enjoy the evening. The insurance will cough up. The worst part will be spending hours in some non-airconditioned fly-infested smoke-filled police office while the damage report is laboriously typed with 5 sheets of carbon paper, on the very first Olympia typewriter ever made. But sufficient unto that particular day is the evil thereof, for now.

Floor show starts, well into this when that old familiar feeling begins. It's like a dizziness, a disorientation, you feel like you may faint. Hard to describe if you haven't experienced it. Nearest thing would be the 10 pints you used to drink at Uni on a Saturday night before falling over. Your whole environment seems to be moving around you.

Been there before, it's an earthquake. Tremors we get all the time but this one is big so I grab Growlette and we push our way outside. Pity really, just as we pass the big bell over the bar it starts swaying and ringing itself -- this normally means a free drink for the house paid for by the ringer. Two minutes and we all file back, the more religious in this intensely Catholic country having dug out their rosaries meanwhile, including Ms G.

This is the second such disturbance in a couple of weeks. [New Labour may experience metaphorical tectonic shifts (cf one J. Prescott), but we have the real deal, they just make them up like everything else :+)].

Monday, call up my French insurance broker, the incurable optimist with the only Megane on the Equator who wonders why it fell to bits after 3 years and why there aren't any others around. He might be a slow learner car-wise, but he sure knows how to work the insurance system. "Not a problem with your car repair, mon ami, but we can 'ardly claim it was earthquake damm-age", he advises, "but 'ave you checked your 'ouse also for damm-age from zis quake?" Ah, I see where the devious Gallic mind is going.........

Pull out the insurance papers. Car's insurance ran out in August. House's ran out in July. Well, it's my fault. I seldom bother to open my mail for weeks and it's always piled high inside the office. Lecture from Growlette who proceeds to kitchen to get a large knife. Thankfully for use on the pile of envelopes not on me. Well you never know with these native chappies, this is a country where "running amok" is actually an admissible legal defence.

Ta-da. Renewal notices produced with that "I told you so" expression that only the female of the species can deploy to such devastating effect. Call Jean-Pierre and explain. "It's OK", he says, we can back-date the renewal certificates, ze insurance companies expect it. But you will 'ave to pay for your car first because after earthquakes the insurance people are very busy and your claim will take some time. Zat's why I said check your 'ouse. if it needs any repairs we can claim the quake caused the damm-age, and make enough for ze car, comprends?". "But, J-P....." Oh, never mind, this is the Philippines. Love it or leave it.

NASA's website said it was a 6.6 under the sea off Mindoro, about 80 miles south. The previous was a 6.2. Hmm.

No jokes about did the earth move for us please. I've put on hold my thoughts about buying that 28th floor condo. One day I fully expect me and my car to disappear into the gaping maw of the Marikina Fault Line or the Manila Trench, and Growlette to be muttering incantations and feverishly searching through my pile of mail for unactioned car and life insurance renewal notices.


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Mon 11 Oct 2004 19:27
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 6 - budu
I don't know about your neck of the woods, but this would happen in Malaysia if you failed to tip the "jaga kereta" (car watch) boy who had decided to offer you his protection. The police don't care there, either.

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Mon 11 Oct 2004 20:24
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 6 - PhilW
"an excellent plate of char-grilled blue marlin and local swordfish fresh from the ocean that day with a bottle of icy Pinot Grigio and a salad made in heaven,"

Heaven

"some vandal has keyed the whole side of my car, not once, not twice, but thrice"

Hell

"a dizziness, a disorientation, you feel like you may faint. Hard to describe if you haven't experienced it. Nearest thing would be the 10 pints you used to drink at Uni on a Saturday night before falling over."

Heaven?

"it's an earthquake"

Hell

"Not a problem with your car repair,"

Heaven

"Car's insurance ran out in August. House's ran out in July"

Hell

"It's OK"

Heaven

"we can claim the quake caused the damm-age, and make enough for ze car, comprends?"

Heaven

At least it ended with two "heavens"!!!
And life ain't exactly boring in your neck of the woods is it???




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Mon 11 Oct 2004 21:11
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 6 - Citroënian {P}
Thanks Growler,

After a long day staring out an office window in Manchester, it really brightens things up to hear your stories. Sorry to hear about the paintwork though.

Lee.

--
Lee
MINI adventure in progress
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Mon 11 Oct 2004 23:09
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 6 - Imagos
Respect growler, great read and thanks for taking time to write it, but it's title of thread that worries me. I assume when you say 'colonies' that your referring to the colonies of the British Empire? I don't ever recall the Phillipines ever being part of it?

Tongue firmly in cheek and pedantic as ever..

imagos
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Mon 11 Oct 2004 23:34
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 6 - NowWheels
It was an American colony for the first few deacdes of the 20th century, having been bought from the Spanish at a knockdown price after the a war. I reckon that Growler is right, and your assumption is wrong ;-)

Anyway, "imagos" -- is that a Sapnish name or a Filipino one?
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Mon 11 Oct 2004 23:47
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 6 - Imagos
oh well maybe i'm wrong i don't know..

no not either, imagos = dictionary.reference.com/search?q=imagos
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Mon 11 Oct 2004 23:54
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 6 - NowWheels
oh well maybe i'm wrong i don't know..


see www.pbs.org/frontlineworld/stories/philippines/tl0...l
no not either, imagos = dictionary.reference.com/search?q=imagos


ah, I see, sorry abt the Spanish comment ... but are you the insect or the idealised image? ;-)
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Tue 12 Oct 2004 07:27
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 6 - THe Growler
OT but anyway. The saying is that the Philippines spent 400 years in the monastery (under the Spanish) and 40 years in Hollywood (under the Americans). Culturally in many ways the people still remain hostage to America. The popular saying before the bases closed was "Americans get out - and take me with you".

BUT, and believe it or not, the British invaded the islands in 1762 from India but were forced out in 1763 and had to give the country back to the Spanish under the Treaty of Paris. This inglorious episode was not taught when I went to school and most of the world map was red. We had to make do with the Indian Mutiny, Rorke's Drift and Gordon of Khartoum.

Car, cars, well Ferdie has taken a look at those keymarks and done a good deal of teeth-sucking and head-shaking. I have known him a long time and such body language is in direct proportion to size of eventual bill. I did remind him of how much I enjoyed his daughter's graduation party and hoped she liked her present, ahem.....
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Tue 12 Oct 2004 16:32
Letter from the Colonies Vol. 6 - Ian (Cape Town)
This inglorious episode was not taught when I
went to school and most of the world map was red.
We had to make do with the Indian Mutiny, Rorke's Drift...


I'm due to head off to the latter part of the world in a few weeks time, doing a bit of journo work on the redcoats v Zulu impis re-enactment. (I Have a nice 4x4 lined up courtesy of Nissan SA! Yeehah!)
Historiacl note: Cetshwayo made the classic error, changing the 4000-4000-2000 formation which stood him in such good stead at Isandhlwana, to the wingless 4000-3000-3000 formation at Rorkes Drift.
Cue Michael Caine: "Would you STOP frowing those bladdy assegaais!"
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Mon 15 Nov 2004 14:31
Letter from the Colonies Vol.7 - THe Growler
For a variety of reasons, locations and names in the following have been changed or omitted.

The events described took place in a small dusty frontier-type town in a far away tropical country renowned for the grace, beauty and availability of its young women, a place which once supported a huge US airbase with a land area bigger than that of Singapore, and the needs of its male personnel, and now caters for a lively industry based on the single male traveller looking for a good time. Most of the bars and clubs are expat-owned or run and are thus a target for policemen and gov't officials who are willing to ignore (or more usually "not invent") tedious "legal requirements" in exchange for varying forms of patronage and largesse by way of "facilitation".

Naturally such a raunchy place attracts its fair share of dealers, no hopers, con-men, opickpockets, card-sharps and hustlers. These are a persistent nuisance to the dolar-spending tourist, or were, until Officer Joey (not his real name) was appointed to head the local Tourist Police (known perhaps more aptly as the "Tourist Fleece"). Joey got stuck into the problem and pretty soon had a Wall of Shame (sic) of various ne-er do well poice mugshots posted outside his police hut, resplendent in full colour Polaroid. This was boldly headed "Scalawags" (also sic), Billy-Boys, Bike/Carnappers and Miscreants".

(Yes, the motoring bit is coming up but feel free to click on by...)

Coincidentally their pictures all suggested they hadn't got beyond Round One with Mike Tyson during police enquiries, but none of their victims seemed to mind that much when they got their wallets with (some of) their contents returned by a smiling and obviously efficient police agency. Joey would sit outside his police hut of an evening, a bottle of beer in one hand, some street-BBQ chicken in front of him, while the other hand waved genial greetings at passing tourists arm in arm with their choice of company for the night.

Everyone soon came to believe Joey was a pretty stand-up guy.

Joey as it turned out also had a voracious gambling habit and was often to be seen in the local casino in the small hours with two or three local lovelies, and kept a suite in one of the local hotels for his post black-jack activities. He was also a big shot at the Sunday cockfights, where substantial bets are won and lost, and where it is good for business to let the police chief win from time to time. Nobody thought to ask why he apparently owned some 10 or so SUV's on a police sergeant's salary of some $180 p.m., but then again perhaps the grizzled old Asia hands had it figured that some questions in this sun-drenched tropical haven are better left unasked.

As time went by, Joey found himself in need of new ways to make cash flow as his extra-constabulary activities became increasingly expensive. His initial foray into this was to have his officers stop foreign tourists riding on rented Honda Waves with their girl on the back and have them arrested because one or other or both were not wearing helmets, wore shorts and flip-flops, or had swerved, ignored a non-existent sign or some other picayune "offence".

The pair would then spend several uncomfortable hours being "probed" (as the local vernacular for "investigated" has it) down at the lockup. The foreigner would be told he had to pay a hefty fine and surrender the motorcycle. If he failed to do so he would be banged up and his g/f would have her permit to work in the bar and her health clearance revoked (no small sanction where her family might be depending on her earnings).

Then of course our tourist would have to go back to the rental place to say the cops had confiscated his (their) bike, whereupon the expat owner would go to the police station to complain, only to be told that he wouldn't want to have drugs found in his establishment, or under-age girls working there, now would he? So now the tourist had the problem of compensating the bike owner, who already had his passport, since holding that was a condition of bike rental.

This went on for some months, and were visitors to neighbouring towns sufficiently observant they would have noted the number of cops riding nearly new Honda Waves without any registration plates.

But this wasn't enough for Joey. His appetite for extra cash was insatiable and he graduated to having his subordinates confiscate taxis and cars with foreigners in them on the grounds that he had received reports of stolen vehicles answering their description and the vehicle must be impounded for fingerprint and forensic testing etc. Before of course being sold on with fake reg plates and doctored papers. Any attempt to remonstrate by the hapless driver/owner/passenger would attract retribution and indeed one at least one unwisely voluble American is still in jail after having prohibited substances "found" on his person.

The climax to all this occurred when Joey was strolling down the street and saw an expat bar-owner he knew in a Pajero. He flagged him down with a friendly greeting. The expat stopped and rolled down his Pajero's window, thinking this was a social thing. Instantly Joey had thrown a packet of white powder into the car, demanded a large sum of money plus the car and its papers or else our man would be thrown in the pokey for possession and pushing, PDQ. Well of course the driver negotiated but in the end complied.

But unknown to Joey, the local investors and bar operators (mainly all foreign as I said) had had enough of all this, along with being raided and paying protection money. Some of this goes with the territory, it's called redistribution of wealth, everyone knows that, and goes along with the system, but Joey had over-stepped the mark.

And so it came to pass last week that Joey languishes in a police detention cell charged with "malversation" (sic), extortion, racketeering, carnapping, drug dealing and sundry other offences. After an anonymous phone call made to Regional Police HQ in a poorly disguised Australian accent, Joey was found in his underwear manacled with his own cuffs to the bull-bar of a Pajero not registered to him and which had been reported as stolen by its antipodean owner, and resting on its axles by the roadside with all four wheels missing, in full view of passing traffic.

That night a number of Australians, Poms, Kiwis and the many retired Nam vets who never quite made it home were ringing the bell in their bars (which means buy everyone in the house a drink) to celebrate the end of the rainy season. Or so they said.





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Mon 15 Nov 2004 15:10
Letter from the Colonies Vol.7 - wemyss
Wonderful Growler keep them coming...
Actually we have a similar guy to Joey over here. Sometimes referred to as Gordan but prefers the title of Chancellor.
Much more subtle in his methods but with even better success rate. Joey could learn a few tricks of the trade from him.
Still waiting for that book.
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Wed 17 Nov 2004 20:52
Letter from the Colonies Vol.7 - hillman
We had vaguely similar occurences in Zambia. Cars and vans would be stolen from the town and driven over the Zaire (Congo) border, 8 miles from us, and hidden in the bush. Zairean police would find them and take them to the capital for investigation. We would never see them again, and hear through the grapevine that they were being used as police transport.
Once, the operator on the company radio switchboard heard singing on the radio. When the song had finished, and the microphone switch released he called back and asked who was singing, and where was our vehicle. The singer was the policeman in Zaire who had been detailed to guard the vehicle.
Some of those car thieves were superb drivers and could get the car through dense bush to the border, avoiding roads where they might be stopped. We had difficulty tracking them in our own poilce Land Rovers. The company dug a trench around the town on all of the routes which could be used to drive a stolen car away. The trench was dug by a heavy duty CAT front end loader, the width and depth of the bucket. They still got through.
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Thu 18 Nov 2004 01:30
Letter from the Colonies Vol.7 - THe Growler
Since original post, a lady friend of mine who is a trial judge was recently buying some of our beautiful fresh fruits and veg at one of the many roadside stalls in our provinces. Having argued the price down, she turned to load her purchases into the open trunk of her brand new Corolla just behind er....only....no Corolla.

She had the keys in her hand too. Nobody saw anything of course.

Local cops/vegetable dealers suspected to be in cahoots, as usual.
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Thu 18 Nov 2004 22:25
Letter from the Colonies Vol.7 - hillman
Perhaps they didn't recognise her.

I once jemmied open the boot of the local magistrates car, with his permission of course. I passed him on the street, and stopped to commiserate and disuade him from using a household fork when I was carrying two perfectly respectful heavy duty tyre levers.
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Fri 19 Nov 2004 03:44
Letter from the Colonies Vol.7 - ajit
slightly off track but Growler specific - opened the latest Classic Car mag to find discovered in an abandoned Phillipines air base - an abandoned Shelby Mustang with only 7000 miles o nthe clock - used by the owner for drag races but with a mysterious bullet hole which the owner will not discuss !
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Fri 19 Nov 2004 04:10
Letter from the Colonies Vol.7 - THe Growler
Hmm, juicy. That must be Clark, although it's far from abandoned. I'm going up there next week and I will check it out with the Hot Road Ass'n.
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Fri 19 Nov 2004 15:41
Letter from the Colonies Vol.7 - THe Growler
Never mind HJ. I love to share a good motoring laugh when ever I can, even if it's a bit of a diversion off the M25 ;+)
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Fri 19 Nov 2004 18:32
Letter from the Colonies Vol.7 - Clanger
Excellent!

It's another world ...
Hawkeye
-----------------------------
Stranger in a strange land
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Thu 2 Dec 2004 21:55
Letter from the Colonies Vol 8 - THe Growler
...bumper X'mas edition...

"Who that guy in the Back Room who always say nothing less than 8 cylinders will do?"

.....yells Miss Philippines, throwing me a meaningful glance. Her meaningful glances are always, well......meaningful. We are in the local Festival Mega-Mall which is so big it's got a full-sized funfair in it with a floor plan designed by a demented architect who must have missed his vocation as a Hollywood set designer for a Matrix movie. Either that or he went off for a long lunch and left the apprentice to finish the job. I can never find the shop I want, can't find my way out, and can't locate my car when I do manage to escape. Not surprising, since the place is about 1km long. That's why I need Growlette to shepherd me through this vast celebration of unbridled consumerism, past serried ranks of kids texting each other or gawping at windows in what seems to be a whole street of cellphone shops, several hundred youngsters playing on gaming machines when they should be doing homework and, Lord luv us, a 30-strong female choir in Santa hats and red miniskirts standing ankle deep in fake snow and plastic holly singing, somewhat inappropriately in this setting, Silent Night. All this just outside a Gap shop belting out primitive tribal noises for the slack-jawed knuckle-dragging youth brigade, and next to ACE Hardware, from whose portals by way of contrast oozes a saccharine "White Christmas".

The deafening cacophony and assault on the senses of an impending Philippines Christmas. I fear incipient tinnitus may have set in.

I tear my gaze away from the sweet young ladies in their Santa bobble hats singing their hearts out, assisted by a sharp elbow-nudge from Herself by way of both reproof and attention-getter and shout "What?"

"There!" Points.

And "there" is a Ford display, two imposing phalanxes of glittering Explorers, Expeditions, Trekker Pick-ups, Lynxes, Escapes, E-150 Club Vans and Everests, all arrayed in two semi-circles amid plastic Christmas trees, with tyre kickers of all ages plundering the racks of disarrayed and by now dog-eared catalogues, opening and slamming doors, sitting inside, peering under bonnets, mesmerised by the mirrored stands which raise up the front of the vehicle to make visible the undersides of the engine, and resignedly watched by frazzled and frayed salesmen and sales-esses whose fingers must surely be calloused from banging out quotations for people who have neither the intention nor the resources to buy.

But, like an expensive restaurant menu where the appetisers are meant simply to prepare one for an imposing and succulent main dish, in the centre and at the back is a podium on which slowly rotates a magnificent black Eddie Bauer Excursion 4 X 2. 6.0 something litre engine I do believe. Its four doors and tailgate are open, revealing a come-hither plushness of tan leather with more cupholders than you can shake a stick at and a sufficiency of dash and overhead buttons to make a B777 Captain feel at home. And oh, those electrically adjustable foot pedals...and the way the indicator lights are replicated as pulsating red LED arrows in the door mirrors....The hood is raised, the windows darkly tinted, the menacing grill is at the perfect height for monopolising the rear view mirror of whoever is unfortunate enough to be in front. The whole shebang speaks, not too subtly, of opulence and authority.

We approach. Herself's little nostrils flare appreciatively at the luxurient scent of the skins of the herd of cows it took to line that splendid interior -- she always has been one for leather.

She climbs on the podium, grasps the grab handle and hauls herself up, sinking gently into the generous proportions of the driver's seat, her long supple fingers exploring the controls, her fingernails dragging lightly over the sumptuous upholstery. (Forgive the purple prose, please, this is truly a moving experience for us. We never get like this around BMW's).

While she scents leather, I smell trouble. Indeed, bearing down on us with an armful of brochures like a Cruise missile is none other than the same saleslady Gladys who has sold us our last 3 Fords. We have been spotted and her tracking system is locked on to target. She has a calculating look on her face suggesting I may be this year's Christmas bonus.

Some context is needed here. 18 months ago I sold the F-150 V-8 truck on the grounds it golloped gasoline, parked like a pregnant pig with equally porcine handling extending to cornering in the shape of (for anyone who remembers them) a threepenny bit. What I forgot was it pulled like a train, treated our execrable road surfaces with contempt, could carry two 700lb motorbikes or 12 construction workers in the back without a whimper, was supremely comfortable and was enjoyably sinful to own and drive. Moreover, it annoyed waiting BMW drivers at the pumps when it took so long for the attendant to fill up. In short, it satisfied.

Feeling virtuous, sensible and thrifty however and with a daughter then still in college, I downsized to a Lynx like G'ette has. Fine little car and all that, but a year and a half of trying to indoctrinate myself that it is OK to be shoved around by buses, taxis and jeepneys, and being treated contemptuously by security guards in carparks in the interest of being a responsible Nice-Person, has, if I am brutally honest, been an abject failure. Nice-Persons don't get respect. Nice-Persons get trampled on and shoved aside by Not-Nice-Persons. Thoughts of Zen and the Tao don't help. I don't do humility terribly well.

Feelings of inferiority dog every trip. With the truck I always got into underground carparks unchallenged, usually with a salute, now I have to open the trunk and glove compartment while my (I mean the car's) underside is humiliatingly probed by mirrors on sticks before I am allowed to pay my 30 pesos to be given the slot just below where the building's air conditioning system deposits its waste products.

Catherine has remained silent on the matter but today she is pointing the way to what she knows may well turn out to be the inevitable sooner or later. The inevitable being there is no substitute for cubic inches, no substitute for that lazy subdued waffle as 8 cylinders sigh and gather their collective skirt in a series of almost imperceptible auto transmission shifts in a surge of power, no substitute for a very large SUV facing down platoons of intimidated Corolla taxis all wanting my lane or threatening impudent jaywalkers, no substitute for that look on a traffic enforcer's face while he ponders maybe I shouldn't stop this guy he might be someone important, no substitute for that muted growl of mild annoyance when a downshifted V-8 finds itself with the task of overtaking lesser vehicles in its path, no substitute for needing the folding kitchen steps to get up high enough to reach the oil dipstick, no substitute for that special brand of obsequiousness shown by car valets at hotels, nor any way of dealing with those dreadful people at social events who ask if one has a DVD player or a fridge in one's car as a way of letting you know that they do.

Like a Harley, once you've had a V-8 nothing else will do (except maybe a Yamaha V-Max, but that's another tale for another time). Indeed the Excursion speaks to all these shameful and delicious lusts.

My partner with her usual insight has seen this all along since the Lynx arrived and while I know she has shared in it, as she always does in any project of mine, with support and commitment, she knew this wouldn't last and indeed was a loss of face which will eventually surely attract bad joss or adverse feng-shui or the irritation of one of those gods she's always lighting sticks to (she's a good Catholic girl but she also understands the strategic importance of a sound contingency plan. That's her Chinese side). While she dismisses the aging '69 Mustang as old, rattly and smelly (sic) as indeed it is, this particular Ford clearly delights with its pages-full of options, interior appurtenances, and sheer size, offering, as it does to both of us, a return to automotive respectability.

I don't wish to ignite another tirade, let alone what the moderators (except Mark) may do to me for being the catalyst for yet another SUV thread, populated by posts from everyone from the Small Cars' Rights Brigade and the We-Don't Like-'Em-So-Why- Should-Anyone-Else-Have-One to . Nonetheless it's tempting to exercise what my old headmaster once called "a regrettable tendency to act outside accepted conventions when it suits him".

"Come on", says Herself, "it's the season to be jolly, di-ba? Actually it's about the same price as a brand new London taxi". How the devil does she know that? "We could charge it to the shop".

"Well we need adequate funds for such very substantial jollification as this, my dear. Which there aren't. Not to mention you have to meet payroll and Christmas bonuses in about 3 weeks at your shop. It's too extravagant anyway. And I'm too old to believe in Santa Claus". I get a scowl for puncturing that particular balloon, but hopefully have scored some points with St Peter on the self-sacrifice scale. I just hope they don't expire just before I need them like those frequent flyer miles always seem to.

I carefully tease a reluctant Growlette from her perch, ease past a disappointed Gladys with a conciliatory grin that Ball & Chain #1 used to call my "Hughie Green look" and say "Come on, let's have lunch. What do you want?"

She sniffs disappointedly and says "Well, if you're going to be a Cheap Charlie, let's make it Chow King. And why you looking at all those singing girls anyway? Which one you like? You want me to introduce you to her?"

Now I have to face Gladys' e-mail quote which will undoubtedly knock my socks off; she's one of those who says I can make a price which I think will surprise you. She certainly does that alright, the "surprise" usually requiring a large local rum and coke to get over, and then she follows up by phone as well. Worse, I'll get a Ford Christmas card from her as usual. I won't have the heart to destroy it, and by hanging it up the presence of Gladys will be there to reproach me silently until Twelfth Night. By February I just know the Ghost of Christmas Past will be haunting me if I so much as go anywhere the local Ford showroom. Maybe when Chinese New Year comes up, Catherine will light a few lucky sticks to the right gods and we'll make out big time at the Casino Filipino. Probably be the triumph of hope over experience anyway.

Moreover, an object in possession seldom retains the same attraction that it had in pursuit, or so they say.

.........now I can't even find the wretched car, and when I do, what's parked next to it? A Chevy Suburban. "I told you we need something bigger, then you could find it"....I knew that was coming.

That's two people I've upset without even trying.

And to think I only came by for an HP printer cartridge.
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Thu 2 Dec 2004 22:03
Letter from the Colonies Vol 8 - Imagos
Entertaining reading, thanks for taking the time.
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Thu 2 Dec 2004 23:06
Letter from the Colonies Vol 8 - No Do$h
I don't do humility terribly well.


::rolls on floor clutching sides whilst trying (and failing) to wipe tears of mirth from eyes::

Thank you G, thank you very much for that one. And the post in general, thank you.

As you may have gathered, I have caught SUV disease.
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Thu 2 Dec 2004 23:23
Letter from the Colonies Vol 8 - Chad.R
Thank you G, thank you very much for that one.
And the post in general, thank you.


Second that - an excellent "letter" as always.
As you may have gathered, I have caught SUV disease.


Yes, its very, very contagious.....

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Fri 3 Dec 2004 10:59
Letter from the Colonies Vol 8 - Baskerville
This is great (and I speak as a someone Growler would no doubt describe as tree-hugging, earth-loving, left-liberal wimp who is only not wearing sandals because it's too cold). I'm posting this to bump it back to the top before it disappears.
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Fri 3 Dec 2004 12:29
Letter from the Colonies Vol 8 - borasport20
Thanks for the tale, Growler

Were you ever a journo or writer? I think it was a flippin' good piece of writing


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Fri 3 Dec 2004 13:14
Letter from the Colonies Vol 8 - Baskerville
I know HJ has tried this stuf for you at the Telegraph, but I think it's mor likely to get into the Guardian or The Observer. They love stuff with an edge like this, especially if it will wind up their readers--and this will. You need a contact though.
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Fri 3 Dec 2004 13:19
Letter from the Colonies Vol 8 - Alyn Beattie
Cheers Growler

Excellent post as always. Could you do one a week :-)

(Letter from the colonies that is)
--
Alyn Beattie

I\'m sane, it\'s the rest of the world that\'s mad.
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Fri 3 Dec 2004 15:39
Letter from the Colonies Vol 8 - somebody
You write beautifully! Well done naman!
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Sat 4 Dec 2004 04:15
Letter from the Colonies Vol 8 - THe Growler
Being published in the Grauniad? Oh, the shame! I could never again darken the portals of my local drinker if that got out. Indeed I'd be unceremoniously tipped out if I dared to try...... ;+) It's already bad enough being a Pom here with England playing rugby like a lot of pussies.

Thanks all. Very unseasonal typhoon damage south-east of Manila, we got very high winds and a lot of rain plus power outages but nowt worse in the metro area. We're used to that. Problem now is to get relief to those displaced folks. Some of the biking groups are trying to help, dirt bikes or helicopters (Hueys of Vietnam vintage, wow, scary) being the only vehicles at the moment that can pass. The area is home to the New People's Army as well (a bunch of rag-tag but well-armed pinkos who are a bit behind the times and still seem to think Communism has a future) who are "appropriating" relief supplies by way of "taxation".

One bit of cheer. Everybody knows in a typhoon you don't park under coconut trees (ref. Living in the Tropics 101). My pesky neighbour who insists on parking one of his 5 cars in front of my house, relearned this when he and his mahjjong-playing mates were giving the old Fundador a bit of a nudge (as one does on a Friday night in the Land of Sun & Fun), and forgot to move his brand new Nissan Exalta, which now has a slightly revised roofline courtesy of Mother Nature. Normally I let the local kids shin up and take the coconuts for themselves, now I think I may revise that policy....




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Sat 4 Dec 2004 09:14
Letter from the Colonies Vol 8 - Baskerville
Gotta be pragmatic in these things, but I see your point about the social pariah status. Good luck with it though; it deserves publication.
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Fri 3 Dec 2004 15:39
Letter from the Colonies Vol 8 - Clanger
You'ld need some vast stocking to get an Excursion in. May Santa grant you such a machine, preferably delivered with some of the choir factory-fitted.

Nice tale, thanks for the smile.


Hawkeye
-----------------------------
Stranger in a strange land
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Fri 3 Dec 2004 15:50
Letter from the Colonies Vol 8 - Dwight Van Driver
Grand Cruz as per usual G.

Thanks for putting my mind at rest as UK News carrying bad reports of problems with the weather in your neck of the woods.
Typhoon, mud slides etc many dead..

Be safe the pair of you.

DVD
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Sun 5 Dec 2004 23:45
Letter from the Colonies Vol 8 - expat
If the Torygraph won't take them try the Sunday Herald.
www.sundayherald.com
Not a national but a well respected paper that regularly carries human interest columns from various correspondents in places like Peking, Dhakka, Mexico City, Rome, Stockholm and even sometimes Sydney!

Keep up the letters. I always enjoy them.
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