NO GREAT TASTES

Covid affects the tastebuds in your mouth and nose. Very mildly, but everything has a metalic or chemical tint to the taste. Like electric equipment. Which explains why this morning I woke up with a suggestion of diesel fuel in my nose. This was disconcerting because of the dream it had just produced; the ack ack ack still echoed in my head, followed by whoosh.

There are some countries one never wants to revisit. The Southern part of the Philippines is very high on that list. When a local nightclub has a large sign telling you to please check your weapons before entering, you feel somewhat less than human when you shamefacedly must admit that you actually don't have a weapon. No gun. No automatic.

Not even a balisong.

Dagger? Sword?

Steak knife?

Besides, the food there was not very good.
American-style fried rice at every meal.
It's the only use for canned peas.
Which also taste chemical.

I am not particularly a fan of kamote kue (candied sweet potato dessert nible); that idea works better with bananas, but kamote is a very common crop from Sambuangan south and westward, pretty much the only cheap starch in some places. Goes "great" with dried fish.

The only reasons to visit are a place which used to be called 'Port Holland', trepang harvesting by the Samal out near Tawi Tawi, and youthful stupidity.

I had huge bucket loads of youthful stupidity once.
Dried holothurids can be found here in SF.
South-East Basilan is pretty.
Bakawanan!



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NEVER DO THIS!

Searching for dental insurance options, last week I put my name, e-mail address, and phone number into an on-line form that looked legitimately like something from the State of California. And at this point I wish to slaughter EVERY. SINGLE. INSURANCE. COMPANY. The phone has not stopped ringing. There are HUNDREDS of pushy Filippinas who all have the same script. When I ask whether this is strictly related to dental coverage only, she responds with "that's a good question, we have ways to save you money, do you currently have medical insurance...." To which, naturally, my response is to hang up the phone.

Kindly note to insurance companies, brokers, and insurance agents: Please stop hiring those women. Thank you very much. They're preprogrammed to NOT answer the questions people ask, but to go through their damned scripts no matter what.

Note to everyone else: avoid insurance companies, brokers, and insurance agents.
They're a pestilence upon the land.


At this point, I never wish to speak to someone with a Pinay accent again.


Last time one of them called, I had a mouth full of chicken, ampalaya, and pancit. With sambal, of course, because I'm Dutch. And fish sauce. I did not let it in any way spoil the overwhelming deliciousness of a late lunch prepared at home, but politely informed the person that I was hanging up the phone. The reason I ate at home was the bus didn't come and it had started to rain. I suspect that too many municipal transportation employees are out with Omicron. Which will mean an even greater chance of getting sick on public transit than ever before -- drivers without symptoms, passengers without brains or consideration -- and at so late an hour in the afternoon on a wet day travelling in close contact with many people who smell like wet dog with a layer of Aramis or 'Seduction For Hello Kitty' lacks a certain, shall we say, appeal.

Three of those phone calls while eating. Godverdomme!

Finishing lunch with a cup of milk tea.

Then off into the cold with a thick overcoat, pipe and an umbrella to scare little children.

Perhaps wrestle imaginary polar bears.

If any Filippina insurance company call center phone-drones were insulted by the rant above, good! Your mother was a hamster and your father smelled of elderberies!

You are all either Imelda, Corazon, or Doña Buding.



AFTER WORD

No kalamansi. Substituted lemon. Not as good.




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IT IS VERY CALM THERE, YOU LIKE IT!

Sago and tapioca are not the same. Sago is used as the staple starch in the Eastern islands of Indonesia, in the form of breads, sago congee (bubog sago, papeda), and sometimes pancake-like things. Its is easily digested, not particularly nutritious, and boring. A habitual rice or bread eater will soon become tired of it and find it dreary, sometimes downright repulsive.

To make such a meal more interesting, birds eye chili peppers, shallots, dried fish, turmeric, and limes (limo kasturi) are used. Sometimes the side dishes are quite exciting and zesty. The same pattern, more or less, exists in the Sulu archipelago, where cassava (kamote) is commonly eaten.

Because papeda is so dull, both texturally and flavour-wise, chopped ingredients and distinct chunks are prefered in condiments.

The "national" sambal of the Moluccas, tjolo-tjolo (katjule) is similar to Mexican salsas, being usually coarsely chopped shallots, birdseye chilies, green tomato, citrus juice, sweet soy sauce, and herbs (basil). Plus one ingredient commonly known as "grease-shit" ('tae minyak'). Which is left-over cooking oil from lots of frying, similar in concept to bacon grease in English working class cooking, or pepper oil for Cantonese food.

For charcoal grilled fish, the sambal is glopped on while cooking, and for most everything else served alongside.

[For most of my life I have avoided sago. Not so tjolo-tjolo.]



ZAMBOANGA TO JOLO

The Tausug and Samal on shipboard were accustomed to the motions, but the Tagalogs and Ilocanos got motion sick while the boat was still moored. Many of them did not make it to the railing in time. We were still waiting to leave nearly six hours after our "scheduled departure", and continued taking on passengers far beyond the alleged limit. Standard practice.
By the time we left, the "bathrooms" resembled a slice of hell.
The trip took five hours, a calm sea.
Lots of sick Northerners.

I was told not to leave the city beyond the port area (China Pier, Fishing Market), because the countryside was "unsettling". "Surely you mean 'unsettled'?" "Unsettling, present tense. There are many guns there." Filipinos are, in many parts of the country, more attached to their weapons than pudgy American macho men or Japanese tourists at the range.
Not all of them are freelancers, some are privately employed for that.

Necessarily I spent most of my time there walking around the neighborhood within a few blocks of the hotel, looking for food, and smoking my pipes.

The pipe above was one I had bought in Berkeley several years before.

In retrospect, it was not a journey I would make again. And I've forgotten most of the Tausug language in any case, because one seldom runs into anyone who speaks it here in San Francisco. Other than a few dishes, what I ate was unexcitingly popular (and very good) northern stuff such as could be found in Manila or General Santos City, very decent Hokkien Chinese food, or local snacks of improbable derivation. Plus pastries. Ensemada. Puto. Pan de sal, and pan de leche. Pan de koko. Sausage empanadas. And too much cassava.

I did make it to Bud Dahu (Bud Dato), Maimbung, and Talipao, but those were quick visits, and we heard gunfire a few times. It's green there, but the climate is not suitable for growing rice. You go to the Chinese shop for that.


Several weeks afterward, I made it to Port Holland on Basilan.
You can probably understand why I had to go there.
No, it doesn't resemble Amsterdam.



Tobacco is grown extensively (in Batangas, Ilocos, and Pangasinan), but finding good pipe mixtures (or any pipe mixtures) is hard. It became necessary to arrange for a friend with the airlines to bring it in for me.

By the way, I'm rather fond of Mafran Banana Ketchup.
But I've heard Jufran is actually better.
We'll disagree on that.



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SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT

When I arrived at Manila Airport, stepping out of the plane into the heat and humidity felt like I was wading through hot jello, a feeling that never really left. With me was a huge luggage item nominally filled with necessities, but actually loaded with contraband Marlboros (blue tax stamp), some books, plus pipes and tobacco for my own use.

The people who picked me up were glad to see me. They had despaired of my arrival, because the plane had been delayed considerably (PAL = "Plane Always Late), and communication by Philippine Airlines was spotty.
What with two American servicemen needing to be subdued for their violent drunken behaviour the authorities had their hands full. Which was good, because it meant that they had no time to search bags.

A week in Manila, whirlwinding through the sights. A restaurant near North Ongpin Bridge. Caloocan (Taoist temple, and the area where the katipunan was centered, monument to Andrés Bonifacio). Eating at Taai Hon Lau with my hosts (recommended by auntie Helen).

Food items elsewhere: Embutido. Morcon. A must see, according to many were Quiapo Church (San Juan, Iglesia Parroquial de Quiapo, Black Nazarene) and San Agustin Church (Iglesia de San Agustín) in Intramuros, plus in a nod to the Chinese Filippinos, Ermita de San Nicolas de Tolentino (Chinese historical worship of St. Nicholas of Tolentino, miracle of Buaya'ng Bato), in Makati. Visiting an auntie in Quezon City. Marikina (Ilog Marikina, Lungsod na Marikina). Binondo again for more Chinese food (kaimpang, eels, shellfish). Pork, crabs, noodles.

Intramuros where the Japanese Imperial Army resisted the American forces in a last stand during the Battle of Manila, during which the old city was largely destroyed. Mango. Alimang bagoong. Patis. Flip-flops. Giant cockroaches (really, they grow to humongous size there). Servants. Driver. Keeping clean. Infected cuts from climbing up coconut palms. Sunburn. Kamatis; like a peeling one of which the visiting American looks after bad sunburn. Fried rice.

And bananas. I had never seen banana trees, except in oils and Chinese literati watercolours, and thought they were fabulous Those giant leaves, that intense greeny-green! Especially in the rain.

Nothing visually says Southern China, Indo China, and Malaysia-Indonesia-Philippines quite like the characteristic banana plant.
To natives of places where they grow, bananas are nothing special. They're just ..... growing there. Useful, yes, and yielding both good food and either large rainshielding or food service surfaces and wrapping.
But hardly remarkable.

To people from more northern climes, however, banana trees are a totally different sight than they're used to. Evocative of a warm and pleasant climate. Unique. Tropical, a signature species.












To the Northern Chinese scholar exiled to the far Southern wilds in hopes that he would soon die of a tropical fever or poisonous miasmas and cease irritating the government, banana trees spelled relief from scorching sun or tropical downpour, and conveniently surrounded his rustic lodgings with shade and something verdantly "home like".

To a Dutch American smoking his pipe while tropic precipitation sogs and splatters, strange and elegant beauty.

To my hosts in the Philippines, my oddness and peculiarity.
Much like my smoking a pipe and drinking tea.
They were extremely tolerant.

"Ang Kano'ng iyon, kakaiba siya."

Bananas.

TOBACCO INDEX


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EATING WELL IN A WILD PLACE

When I still worked in Berkeley one of the people I knew (and rather fondly remember) was a woman who smoked pipes. Because of her I acquired my oldest Dunhill pipe, which I still smoke. But I no longer habitually load it with Oriental mixtures, now instead far more preferring the taste and smell of an old-fashioned mature Virginia blend.

That would please her roommate no end. Who insisted that after every time I visited even the doorknobs reeked of Latakia.

Filipinas are fastidiuous.

I stank.

That was also the period of my life when I went to the Philippines. Imelda Marcos was still in power then, ably assisted by her husband Ferdinand. Manila was, if I remember correctly, still under a form of Martial law.
Which was much less evident out in the provinces.

Except for encounters with armed officials and troops.
And small private armies.

In the south, despite the lawlessness there, it seemed even more open. In some places there were no military at all, only in a few spots it swarmed with soldiers. Depending on the situation, and how threatened the ruling party (KBL) felt in that locality.

The Philippine military seemed the least corrupt branch of the entire Philippine governmental structure, with many important civilian posts having gone to well-connected Tagalog and Cebuano speakers, who needed their "investments" back, with interest.

It's a wonderful place with very nice people, some purely excellent food, plus corruption and political violence on a staggering scale.

In Negros Occidental and Oriental (sugar cane country, southern Visayas) there was also endemic starvation, and up in the Cordilleras (central and northern Luzon) the communists held sway.

Misamis Oriental, Zamboanga del Norte and Zamboanga del Sur, and the entire Sulu area, were rife with smuggling and Muslim irridentists, but if you exercised caution you might not even notice. Except for the occasional dismembered body. Oh, and did I mention the superior cuisine?

I ate fabulously while there. So I will definitely recommend Mindanao, and the entire Philippines, for the avid food tourist.


Probably the only thing I need to criticize is the insane Philippine fondness for "Feelings", a horrible song that more people know than Marangal na Dalit ng Katagalugan or Lupang Hinirang, possibly rivaling The Internationale or Old Lang Syne for popularity.


That, and pipe smokers are few.

They have cigars.

TOBACCO INDEX


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IT SMELLS LIKE BURNT COCONUT OUTSIDE NOW

Located at the far side of Basilan Island, where the Samal used to harvest trepang, is an area named Port Holland, in the coastal town of Maluso. The Dutch were eventually kicked out by the Tausug, who were at that time in history expanding in all directions from their base in Jolo. For the next century Tausug Kimerajas (stadholders, noblemen) on the coast and Yakan chieftains in the interior contested each other's control, competed for influence, and made unstable alliances with both with the sultanates of Maguinindanao and the Spanish.

The Yakan kingdom of Kumalarangan then fades from sight, the Tausug sultans established total suzerainty, and the Spanish then spent several generations acting huffy about all of that. By the beginning of the eighteenth century Tausug raids and slaving expeditions had pulled such a number on the Visayas, Mindanao, and Sabah, that various powers (Dutch, English, Spanish, even the French) increased their presence in order to cut the uppity Sultanate down to size. By the midle of the nineteenth century, the sultanate had been severely limited. By the late eighteen hundreds, steam power, better armaments, and resolve spelled the end of Sulu effrontry.

From the American period up to the seventies and eighties, the region was more or less "peaceful". Oh sure, there was Moro rebellion, Ilocano death squads, casual Visayan settler violence against the locals, and occasional Philippine Constabulary brutality against anyone opposed to the Christian mission to civilize and exploit the area, but as long as you kept in regular contact with the embassy and illustrados from powerful warlord clans -- and their helpful and polite private guards -- or stuck to major towns, retiring to the luxury hotels after dark, you would be utterly safe. No problems.

And people would let you know if something was coming down.

Albeit obliquely. "The guidebook", you would say, "states that I can catch the three day ferry to Bongao from here". And they would inform you sadly that that was completely incorrect. Nobody ever went there in any case, it was a rather boring outpost. Later you would hear that there had been an armed dispute over a smuggling boat, and the entire stilt water village on the north side of town had gone up in flames.

Since the early two thousands the Americans have been helping the government in Manila bring peace and prosperity to the area. It is considered unwise to go there. Not recommended for tourists.

When I was there the Samal still harvested agal agal, but sold it directly to the Chinese. Dutch merchants had not visited in aeons, trepang was now taken elsewhere, and they weren't sure such people really existed.

Maybe I was a fictional construct. Did all Dutch people smoke pipes? Were we Muslim? Was I related to the old white dude who lived on an Island just off Tawi Tawi? He was a Haji, and married to royalty.

Actually, he wasn't Dutch, but a Californian from near Sacramento.
But in that area, he was the closest thing to a Dutchman.
Bit of a tough old blister.

He also spoke Tausug.


I would have gone back in the early nineties, but I was in a relationship at the time, and taking a nice American raised girl to a rather iffy part of the world, where she doesn't speak a word of the language, is a queer proposition. So we traveled to Europe instead.

TOBACCO INDEX


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EXPLAIN FILIPINAS

One of the things my apartment mate requires at times is my perspective on Filipinas. With whom she works. Apparently I am the Filipina whisperer.
My exposure to them, despite the fact there are a dozen such creatures surrounding her at her office, is immense. This is not a role I relish, as I am glad I do not know any at present. Although one does take the same bus to Marin every weekend. Best described as Donya Buding's bitchy scrawny cousin with a rich white woman's sun tan and pissy attitude.
I went to the Philippines several times years ago.
There are Filipinas all over accounting.
And I've worked with them.
An awful lot.


Piranhas on meth.


They can be charming, warm and hospitable, but that's like cats acting cute; they don't realize that that is special, it's their normal routine, much like licking themselves or chasing their tail. Underneath that they can be pit vipers, with an element of self-centered craziness a mile wide. The more pretensions they have, the more sharp of tooth.

At a law office a memo was sent to the collections staff informing us that the partners in the Washington office demanded that no collection calls whatever should be done on their clients. Please acknowledge receipt, and your total comprehension of this directive! By the end of the day, all of the Washington partners had contacted me and asked me to please disregard the memo, proceed as usual, and on no account let the rest of the collectors know about it.

The other collectors were all Filipinas.

Yes, naturally I informed my boss (neither a Filipina nor a collector). Who understood, sought confirmation confidentially, and then told me to keep a separate call record for those accounts, detailing the work done.

At a different law office a few years before then, the Filipinas preferred not to associate with me, but avidly sought to socialize with the major partners and their secretaries.

There's something twisted about a society that on the one hand is thoroughly Asian, on the other totally Americanized, and on the third hand conservative Catholic (a blinkered Spanish Inquisition mentality mixed with Haciendadero), while never the less maintaining Malay-Indonesian superstitions and social relations.

In addition to being totally consumerist status conscious snobs.

[Keen style sense, but only well-known expensive brands.]


When I say I like Filipinos, I'm not lying.
I'm just not telling the truth.


Their food is wonderful.


[Except for banana ketchup.]



Addendum Monday December 9, 2019: a reader who identifies herself as "Pinot Blanc" opines that banana ketchup is not only "wonderful", but, in fact, "miraculous".




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FILIPINAS AND SUGARY TREATS

The most enjoyable article I read in months mentions rat poop. It turns out that rats placed in "an enriched environment" have consistently far better mental development and naturally better poop than rats in a boring place. As the training of the rodents to deal with certain difficult tasks continued, "all of the rats' faeces showed increasing dehydroepiandrosterone and decreasing corticosterone".

The first hormone mentioned is a stress marker, the second helps control stress. This information comes from 'Teaching Rats To Drive Tiny Cars Helps Them Relax, Scientists Discover'.


"...the mastery of a complicated skill can reduce levels of stress"


At my apartment mate's office there are a number of Filippinas, earning good money, undeservedly, who are totally stressed out because basic computer skills are so difficult, they just can't do those things, they've never done this before, it's too hard. They have tenure, they've stopped learning.

These women irritate my apartment mate, and I should mention that as a Cantonese person with Asperger syndrome she automatically learned these tasks, just like she mastered trig and solving plumbing issues. That's just how her mind works. Which I take for granted. She hasn't perfected changing the light bulbs in the ceiling fixture, because she is a shorter person, and both my height and my arm length are greater.
But bulbs don't require brains.
Just a ladder and long arms.

This research suggests that if Filippinas were put in rodent operated vehicles (ROVs) they would become better people.
Test their poop just to be sure.


"more challenging and enriching lifestyles lead to more complex neural networks"


One could also assume that life is better (though much more complex) if you are surrounded by Cantonese people who are on the spectrum, as well as long-limbed Caucasians, but that may be an unwarranted simplification.

Key quote: "Understandably, this is a pretty complex task for a rodent to learn, requiring all manner of cognitive, motor, and visuospatial skills they wouldn’t usually employ together. Nevertheless, after some practice, they were able to successfully navigate around a narrow arena towards a tasty reward, a super sugary Froot Loop cereal. "

SOURCE: Teaching Rats - IFLS


The women with whom my apartment mate works could be a lot happier if they were "incentivized" with Froot Loops. Which I shall suggest.


"It's easy for you; you're Chinese!"


Talaga.




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THE POISONOUS KIND

So. I am a very tolerant and agreeable man. Earlier today I listened to cigar smokers being themselves, as well as a stoner who needed a new stem for his Sasieni. When I came home, my apartment mate had to vent her spleen about the precious oh so precious Filippinas at work, women who per their own assertions are more competent than in any objective sense, and therefore pretty damned incompetent and a pain to work with.
Which I too have done.

One of them always took great pains to highlight my errors and mistakes, real or imaginary, in hopes that I would end up dismissed, and her brother in law could get my job. Two others, at a law office, could never remember my name, because I was slightly below them in payscale, but could remember the full names, plus nicknames and middle names, of ALL the two hundred plus billing partners, AND their executive assistants.
And spouses and children.

Those are just three examples. There are many more. Working with Filippinas can be mighty educational.

Though tolerant and extremely agreeable, I would prefer never to work with Filippinas again.


Philippine Americans, on the other hand, are a different kettle of fish. Those can often be delightful to work with. The key difference is whether they were reared here and worked hard to get an education, or were reared there, told that they were special all their lives, and got an "education" because of family money and influence. Honest people, or privileged class.


Anyhow, I've said too much about Filippinas already, and I'm probably gonna get stabbed by one of them once I set foot outside the front door.

Likely someone whose uncles are in government.




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MOONCAKES IN MANILA

A friend brought back some mooncakes from Manila recently. They are from a bakery that I went into, once, and only vaguely remember: Salazar Bakery, 783 Ongpin Street, Binondo, Manila, 1006 Metro Manila, Philippines. Apparently they're bigger and better than ever before, as they now have shiny modern branches all over town.

They are famous for their hopia, tikoy.
Plus biscuits, and mooncakes.


達華餅店的月餅

The Chinese handle of the bakery (達華 'lin waa') means "attaining splendour". Like many Chinese business names it expresses a hope, an aspiration, and an eloquent combination of propitious terms.
And, given their quality and success, it is apposite.

A long time ago I was in Manila. I particularly remember the torrential rain, and paddling into the kitchen late at night for another glass of tea and a bit of mooncake. Three different places and times, three different families.

All of them were Chinese. One family spoke Mandarin, Hokkien (which may have been the 泉州 dialect of 閩南話), Cantonese (three members only), Tagalog, and English. One commonly used Cantonese, Tagalog and Cebuano, English, and German. And one spoke English primarily, plus various dialects of Chinese, and Tagalog.

[Different languages can be very important to people's self-definitions, and in the Manila context that means the more tongues the merrier. One aged gentleman explained himself (in English) as a Tagalog-speaking Fujianese Chinese from Ilocos, with great facility in Italian (!), and a fair ability in Spanish.
But what I best remember is his fluency in Latin.
He had, at one time, been a priest.]

At that time of year (中秋節 'jong chau jit') they all had mooncakes (月餅 'yuet bing'), and there was a thermos of tea in the kitchen at all times.
Darkness, silence, hot tea, mooncake.
That which is lovely.


For a few years in North Beach I used a humongous tea thermos, and because the nearest bakery was a block away, mooncakes during September and October were a constant.
Which they still are.

[Mooncakes are big and thick, approximately four inches across and two deep. A thin baked crust surrounds a rich filling, usually lotus seed paste (蓮蓉 'lin yong') or red bean paste (豆沙 'dau saa', with a salted egg yolk (蛋黃 'daan wong') embedded within recalling the harvest moon. The egg yolk adds to the density of taste most marvelously. You can also get them with two egg yolks, and various other fillings are also common. I prefer the double egg lotus seed: 雙黃白蓮蓉月餅 ('seung wong baak lin yong yuet bing').]


The climate in Manila is very much like the unseasonable warmth in San Francisco, between eight and ninety degrees, such as we are having now. The humidity is much worse, though. Like wading through warm jello.
You can indeed get used to it, but you are often bedewed.
Your laundry needs to be done every day.
Frowst is a fact of life.


Chinese families patiently put up with their stinky white guests, and probably burn the sheets that he used after he has finally gone.


The mooncakes are excellent.
Thank you.




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RACIST, AND DAMNED PROUD OF IT!

While yanking out a nostril hair I suddenly realized that the reason a certain person now pretends I do not exist and no longer responds to my cheerful greeting whenever we meet is that the poor bastard probably thinks that I am a frightful racist. Which of course I am.


He's Filipino, and I've said thoroughly nasty things about Filipinos.
Among other things I called them vulgar consumerites or arrogant illiterate snobs.
Most recently, I called their society "vicious, rotten, and depraved".
In this post: "we are better than Asia".

But please, read everything I've ever said about the place by following this link: The Philippines. There are over a score of essays in that string, which may not have been as complimentary as merited.


Isang 'hamster' ina mo, at amang mo mabaho tulad ng mga 'elderberries'!


Further examples of bigotry: I am on record as describing Pakistan as sodden with dumbasses and jihadis, India as 'Rape-i-Stan', Vietnam and Cambodia as malarial bogs, all of South East Asia as periodically murderous, especially to their minorities .....
Pestilential trash heaps.

I've also said unpleasant things about the Chinese.
And the Japanese. And Koreans.

And all of Europe.

Belgians, ugh!


If I haven't made a shitty and entirely truthful remark -- or several such, which are all well-deserved -- about your nationality or ethnic group, it is because I haven't gotten around to you yet. You may not have made much of an impression in any case.



KURIPOT, ANG TAO ILOKANO ...

Visayans speak miserable Tagalog, but believe that their "yaya-katulong" English is better than anyone else's. Conversely, Manileños speak a florid English filled with words they don't really know the meaning of, and think other Filipinos are provincial and ignorant.
Which they are.

Batangueños are foolhardy, backwards, and given to murderous rages, the Bikolanos are indolent, unwashed, and stink of coconut grease, people from Bohol are overly religious and superstitious, practically idiots.

Caviteños are short-tempered and violent, Cebuanos have truly abysmal musical tastes, Davaoans are all egotistical drunkards, Ilokanos are cheap miserly bastards, Ilongots are quite incapable of dealing with money, Moros are all traitors, Panggalatoks are fussy cooks (but not very good -- don't hire them for kitchen work), tribals have tails, and the less said about the entire south, the better.


And all of them, without exception, from the northernmost tip of Luzon to the sea between Mindanao and the Sangihe Archipelago in Indonesia, are convinced that Caucasians are as smelly as dogs, and just come to the Philippines for sex and shopping.


Talaga, yan.



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WE ARE BETTER THAN ASIA

Nowadays it looks like the only civilized areas of Asia are Japan, South Korea, Hong Kong, and Vietnam. Which is a pity, because after the end of both colonialism and the cold war, that region showed such promise. As just a highlight of things being wrong, consider Burma (ethnic cleansing on a massive scale), the Philippines (extra-judicial killings on a massive scale), and Thailand (sex slavery on a massive scale). Admittedly the Australians and Europeans are partly responsible for the last item, given that they can't brutalize juveniles quite so blatantly in Amsterdam and Sydney, but while the tourists are the customers, the Thais supply the commodity.

India, of course, has become a basket case under Modi.
Lynchings, rape, and journalist killings.


The Philippines are probably the biggest disappointment, for a variety of reasons. But the problem is, largely, that they are idiots.


"Lawmakers in the Philippines have voted to give an annual budget of just 1,000 pesos ($20; £15) to the public body investigating the country's controversial war on drugs. The cut to the budget of the Commission on Human Rights was supported by a margin of 119 to 32 in Congress."

Source: Duterte drug war - BBC


The last time I was in the Philippines it was a shitty banana republic, under Marcos, but we all thought things would get better when that CIA stooge and his shopaholic wife were eventually removed.
We were wrong.


Since then the list of offenses wreaked upon Philippinos committed by their own people has grown beyond comprehension. Timothy Mo once wrote a novel painting the place and the natives in a bad light. Justifiably, but he didn't tell the half of it.

They have great food. They are extremely nice people.
Their society is vicious, rotten, and depraved.

Twenty dollars isn't nearly enough to buy a handbag.
Not even a bootleg Louis Vuitton.
Made locally.




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GLIB AND UNDIPLOMATIC THINGS

Several years ago on this page I made sneering remarks about Filipina shop-aholics and the cut-throat nature of females from the islands.
Nothing has changed since then to alter my impression of them.
Some of them are very cute indeed, as well as intelligent and vivacious, but they are ruthless, and while it is very good to have Filipina aunties, one should avoid acquiring Filipina wives or girlfriends like the plague.

The best way to ensure your safety is to read about the place and learn how to cook the food, as well as how to pronounce it. If you are the average stupid white male, you should not visit the country no matter what.

Did I mention cute, intelligent, and vivacious?


"Mag-shopping tayo!"


Manila is a giant mall, and Filipinas are the apex-predators of this world.
For your own well-being, stay far away from Filipinas in full commercial throttle; it's a never-ending battle that always results in blood.
And brand names. Lots of brand names.

Full throttle is their permanent state.

It is likely that there are many other women who are also cute, intelligent, and vivacious, and if there are, they may not have relatives from Luzon or the Visayas. You should probably check out that possibility.

Warning: if they sound like Arnold Schwarzenegger and converse about existenzangst and andere ernsthafte themen, very probably they are Dutch or German, and rather than being food-focused, they will not understand what lumpia, halo halo, adobong babui, and kare kare are all about.

On the other hand ...

There are some advantages that come with knowing Filipinas, entirely aside from exposure to designer handbags and Italian shoes.

"Tayo na at kumain!"

A key characteristic of Filipinas, especially the auntie-types, is that food is a constant. As a white person ("taong puti") you will not be expected to know bugger-all about that -- most Caucasians have minimal culinary knowledge, likely being familiar only with sandwiches, pre-made salad dressings, and kale smoothies -- but aunties will automatically assume that you must be fed, and that you will will gladly have a snackipoo.
Lumpia, sisig, avocado shakes.
Adobo and Dinuguan.
Sinigang.

[Keep in mind that such typical generosity is an obligation on both sides; do not be just a taker. A hospitable approach must always become a two-way street.]


Food notes: the sweet snacks will count heavily: bibinka, puto, ensemada, tikwe, pitsi pitsi, kutsinta, leche flan, etcetera. Filipino Chinese might think of savoury stuff: machang (glutinous rice and pork in a bamboo leaf packet; 肉粽), humba (red-stewed pork belly; 紅肉), kiampeng (savoury rice with everything; 鹹飯). Plus various bakpia (肉餅) and hopia (好餅).

And, of course, countless variations on red-bean desserts.

Merienda is a way of life.


There used to be a lot more Filipino eateries in the Financial District. Still, they exist elsewhere in the city, and you should give them a whirl.
You might find yourself falling in love.

Maybe not with a woman.



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DUTERTE DOES NOT NEED THE UNITED STATES

The follow-up from Digong Duterte calling President Obama a "son of a whore" has been swift; a scheduled meeting between the two leaders has been cancelled, with no future confabs announced. Kumandar Duterte may be a capable leader of death squads, but is an abject failure at international relations.
Hubris has always been a problem for Filipinos.


"Putang ina mo!"


In electing Duterte, the Filipino people have thrown their trust in with a brutal thug, a bigot, and quite possibly a rapist. In fact, Rodrigo 'Rodeng' Duterte is such an all-round disgusting exemplar of Filipino manhood that one wonders how far back his well-documented murderous proclivities go. Was he at an early age involved in hunting down Muslims in Mindanao, like so many other Visayan settlers were? Was he a patron or leader of the Ilagas, notorious gangs of Northern immigrants who engaged in rape and murder among the Moros during the Marcos dictatorship?
Or did he leave that to able relatives?
That last is doubtful.


Until the Philippines elects a clean man, who doesn't represent the brutalist stratum in the entrenched political class, the United States relationship with that place should redefine "lowest ebb".


Unlike the Arab world, which cannot do its own housekeeping and needs Filipinas, the United States has no need for Filipino immigrants.
We aren't that fond of mangoes either.



Let us ignore Duterte's human rights violations as well as all Filipino claims to any part of the South China Sea. We need to have a good relationship with China and Japan.

We can well-afford to ignore the Philippines.




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FILIPINO PRESIDENT SHOWS TRUE COLOURS, CURSES OBAMA

The president of the Philippines, Rodrigo Duterte, has called the president of the United States a "son of a whore". Well now, is this any way for the leader of an ally to behave?

Perhaps the Philippines has forgotten the economic ties that bind us?
No, I shan't mention ties of friendship and common values, because if the Filipino president calls the leader of the United States a "son of a whore", we may in fact have very little in common.

Filipinos don't particularly like white people, generally speaking sneer ferociously at blacks, and just aren't very hep on the rest of us. They like our passports and our access to consumer goods.


"You must be respectful. Do not just throw away questions and statements. Son of a whore*, I will curse you in that forum!"

[Literally: Putang ina mo.]


If that rude, crude, thug Duterte represents them, nothing good can come of further relations. Perhaps we should reconsider our connection.


Actually I think we should boycott the damned place, halt all trade, and stop issuing visas to Filipinos, as well as criminalize transfers of money to Filipino nationals overseas. While we are at it, declare martial law in Daly City, and shoot anyone singing "Feelings, Nothing More Than Feelings".


Nobody really needs the Philippines.




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DRAMATIC EVENTS

It must have been what he was smoking. Sometimes that's the only logical explanation. And, as a result, a woman several decades younger than him nimbly cleaned his right ear thoroughly with her tongue.
While possibly on the way to the bathroom.

The three of us had had such a good time at Kim Komenich's booksigning that we decided to continue our conversation at San Francisco's only establishment where smoking is encouraged.


[KIM KOMENICH: After the assasination of Benigno ('Ninoy') Acquino upon his return to the Philippines in 1983, besides attempting to cover-up governmental involvement in the murder, Ferdinand Marcos and his lovely wife Imelda staged one of the most blatantly rigged elections in their nation's history. Public agitation and disgust culminated in their overthrow in February of 1986.
As a news photographer, Kim documented conditions and events in the Philippines during that time, and his splendid book Revolution Revisited - A Look Back at the 1986 Philippine Revolution presents a kaleidoscopic overview.

Of particular interest are the brief biographies of people affected by the Marcos regime's venality and corruption, from Joel Abong (victim of malnutrition in Negros Occidental, 1985 - page 96) through Fidel Ramos (general, and later president, page 112).
Yes, Imelda is also there.

I was in the Philippines when Acquino was killed, and for the next four years events there obsessively held my attention. Along with countless others in the San Francisco Bay Area, I celebrated the fall of the regime and watched the video of Mr. and Mrs. Marcos hasty departure from Malacañang exultantly.]


I highly recommend the book, by the way.


STOUT AND WHISKY ON PINE STREET

Three civilized tobaccos made the rounds; a modest little Virginia and Perique mixture which I had compounded, a tin of Vintage from Fribourg & Treyer, and Peter Heinrichs Dark Strong Flake.

Nick made the mistake of trying the Dark Strong Flake first, and while he was savouring it, the younger person attacked him with lust in her eyes and joy in her heart. Quite probably attracted by the manly-man smell of the tobacco. Again, I stress the age difference!
Several decades.

No, I do not deny that he's "still got it", but all three of us actually "still got it", especially by enjoying our briars in a venue where cigar smokers diminish whatever pallid sex-appeal they might have by being more precisely themselves than their significant others normally allow.
We are always ourselves, and that's just ducky.

All of us, including himself, were surprised at how his robust animal magnetism drew the happy miss from all the way across the room and into his arms, and at such great speed.

Disconcerted too. He has probably disinfected his ear since then.

As a logical man, I can only deduce that the tobacco gave him an unnatural boost. Must be the effect of Kentucky mixed with aged Virginia leaf.


I tried it myself, after I had finished the bowl I had been working on, but by that time the female person had already been ejected, so the effects were not the same. She did make several attempts to re-enter.
Which were confounded by resolute staff action.
Her spontaneity was "commendable".
But she was not my type.



Peter Heinrich's tobacco is juicy, and has a nice figgyness. Thick strips of darkened flake, old-fashioned and ambachtelijk. It is nice. Very nice.
A surprisingly easy smoke for so rich and earthy a product.
I shan't buy it, despite its proven effaciousness.
But I would smoke it again.

Fribourg & Treyer's Vintage consists of nice thin perfectly rectangular Virginia flakes, modestly bright, that once touched with a match will smell old-timey. Like all such pressed Virginias it must be smoked slowly.
It won't knock your socks off but you will find it enjoyable.
Sadly, it does not attract mad women.

My own modest blend has slightly more than four percent Perique, and eighty percent un mezcla of flue-cured leaf; after a few weeks to meld the flavours, it is a pleasant all-day smoke for people like me.
Despite not triggering startling behaviour.


NICK IS A TOTAL CHICK MAGNET

At the very next meeting of the pipe club, I shall ask Nick to disquisition on lingual ear-cleaning, for the benefit of members (such as myself) for whom such things are not common. This should prove extremely entertaining.
I have not experienced anything even remotely like it for years, despite being significantly younger than Nick. Other than amazingly sexy pipe tobacco, what is his secret?

My joints don't audibly creak, I comb my beard and shave regularly, and I have altogether clean and commendable habits.

I shall not switch to Peter Heinrichs Dark Strong Flake, however.
It's a matter of principle, and I like what I have.

TOBACCO INDEX


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IT USED TO BE SO DELICIOUS, MAS MALINAMNAM

My esteemed coworker young master Leon disclaimed hunger today, asserting that he had had a late breakfast. Which involved queso, arroz, possibly an empanada, frijoles, huevos, and longaniza.
I asked him to discuss it in detail, as I figured that thinking about good food would make him esurient. The operative concept here being that I like to enjoy my lunch after everyone else has eaten.

I wanted him to eat lunch first.

His lyric eloquence describing the longaniza made me ravenous.
Whereas it simply put a silly smile on his face.
Ah, happy memories!

He did not bother having lunch.
I had Sriracha and a sandwich.



Naturally I ended up at dinner time craving longganisa, embutido, lechon kawali, adobo, lumpia, sinigang, and bihon.

The only thing that happened was bihon. With carne de puerco, fried onion, yellow squash, basil, lime juice, abalone sauce, and sambal.

Followed by a cup of strong coffee, because I do not wish to sleep yet, as good food makes me do.



Filipino longganisa is made by stuffing minced fatty pork into sausage casings and tying it at short intervals. The meat is jazzed with garlic, sugar, soy sauce, and vinegar.
If it is to be stored, also Prague powder.
Or you could freeze it.

It is simmered in a little water till the liquid is gone, then turned in the rendered fat to brown it all over. Great with garlic rice and an egg, but also sliced and dumped over thin rice-stick vermicelli (bihon), along with chopped chives, ulang or hipon, and a squeeze of lime.
Or just eaten as a manly snack.

Embutido is a meatloaf wrapped in tinfoil (used to be a banana leaf) and steamed, then sliced after cooling a bit.

Lechon kawali is streaked fatty pork simmered with soy sauce, garlic, ginger, and water, till tender -- about an hour -- then left to air-dry in the refrigerator so that the skin will crisp nicely when you fry it, yielding soft oozy delicious fat underneath a golden crunchy dermis. It is delicious.

Adobo is pork or chicken stewed with soy sauce, peppercorns, and vinegar.

Lumpia are little egg rolls. Finger food. Yummy.

Sinigang: seafood or meat in tamarind-based broth.
Tangy and fragrant, not too sour.
Comfort food.



None of these things are easily available in this part of San Francisco, because there are far too many young people connected with computers living in the neighborhood now, and hardly any Filipinos.
That is something which makes me sad.
I like Filipino food.

This area is whitifying far too much.
Higher prices, and less flavour.
No longer malinamnam.

No sisig either.
Darn.



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TAPSILOG; OR, PLAYING WITH YOUR MEAT. AND RICE, EGG, SLICED TOMATOES

One of the things you can find in any breakfast place catering to Filipinos is a plate of fried cured meat, served with garlic-fried rice, a fried egg (or two of them), and sliced tomatoes. Plus a small dish of vinegar with sliced garlic, or onion, or siling (hot chilies).
It's hearty food, worth getting up early for. But I am not a breakfast person, so instead of heading down to the final few blocks of Mission Street at the crack of dawn, I will prepare the fundamental ingredient at home to cook for dinner. That being Filipino-style cured meat.


Tapa, sinangag, at itlog; maging "tapsilog".

The tomato is, obviously, assumed.


Tapa is made by marinating meat in soy, vinegar, sugar, and garlic. Then taking it out, shaking off the excess liquid, and frying it till crispy, juicy, fragrant.
Beef is commonly used.

Sinangag (garlic-fried rice) is usually leftover rice jiggled in a hot pan with some garlic and grease till flavoured -- some people like to add a spoonful of stinky shrimp paste as well -- then scooping it out and onto a plate before it starts sticking to the bottom.
Slightly less moist rice is best.

Itlog means egg. And in this context it could mean egg cooked any style, but a fried egg is common.

The vinegar plus garlic or whatever combination caters to the Filipino taste for something sour to add intensity and complexity. A squeeze of kalamansi -- fragrant small green citrus with orange-yellow pulp, like key lime but better -- can be used in lieu of, or in addition to.

Filipinos drink either chocolate or coffee in the morning. Coffee grown in Batangas (kapeng barako) is not much enjoyed outside of the Islands, and the Philippines do not have a strong coffee culture.
Hot chocolate is a bit more traditional.


I prefer my rice plain-steamed, largely avoid cow because the American beef industry is one of the filthiest, nastiest, and most ethically crippled things to come out of Texas (though possibly no worse than their politicians and religious charlatans), and I like some serious coffee during breakfast or dinner; I don't thrive on hot chocolate.

All that, plus the sheer insanity of searching for an open Filipino eatery at the far end of Mission Street after ten o'clock in the evening, explains why instead I do it all at home.


The cured meat can be made in a larger quantity, portions frozen for later use.


PINDANG BABOY, TAPANG BABOY

For each pound of semi-lean pork:

Four (or five) TBS sugar
Three TBS vinegar
One TBS lime juice
Four TBS soy sauce
Two Tsp. ground pepper
Two Tsp. salt
Ten cloves garlic, bashed a bit

Slice the pork thin. Mix all the other ingredients, place the pork in a bowl, and pour in the marinade. Mix, to ensure that all of the meat is in contact with the marinade, and set it in the refrigerator for two days.
Turn occasionally to ensure even penetration.

Then take it out, pour off the excess liquid, and divide into portions, which can be enfolded in plastic wrap for later use.

To use immediately, heat up some oil or rendered meat fat in the skillet, dump in the meat -- there should be room to spare, do it in batches if cooking for more than one person -- and fry till the pork has darkened along the edges and is starting to crisp.

Serve with a mound of rice, and plenty thick-sliced tomato.
A small saucer of garlic vinegar for zip.
Plus a fried egg.


If you're me, you might want to also have a dish of stewed bittermelon on the side; it's good for you, and darn tasty.


GINISANG AMPALAYA SA GATA
Bittermelon cooked with coconut milk

One bitter melon
Half a cup coconut milk
One shallot, slivered
A little minced ginger
A teaspoon of shrimp paste (bagoong alamang)
A pinch of turmeric

Slice the bittermelon down the center and scoop out the pips and pith. Cut across into thick half rounds, and dump in a bowl. Strew a little salt over, add lukewarm water to cover, and let it sit for twenty minutes to lessen some of the bitterness. Drain, rinse well, drain again.

[Note: you can also put a big fat jalapeño chili sliced and seeded in with the soaking bittermelon; it will be less hot after this treatment, and adds a nice crisp taste.]

Add oil to a pan, sauté the shallot and ginger. Then add the bittermelon and cook briskly over heat.
Add the shrimp paste, stir to mix -- yes, it will smell a bit -- then add the pinch of turmeric and pour in the coconut milk. Turn the heat low and simmer till the coconut milk has been reduced and the oil appears. Let the vegetables frazzle a little bit in this, for extra flavour, then add a splash of water, stir briefly, and slide into a serving bowl.



Cooked cured meat. Rice. Fried egg. Tomatoes. Vegetables cooked sa gata. And a little garlic-vinegar. Life is good.




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ON ONG PIN SOUTH BRIDGE (王彬南橋) OBSESSING ABOUT CHICKENS

Fried frog legs, fried chicken, various types of rice-sheet noodle, mami, fried tofu, lumpia... plus lechon. And congee, egg-noodle, and cold beverages.
Also: avocado shakes.

[One avocado, peeled and stone removed, osterized with a hefty scoop of vanilla icecream, half a cup ice, two tablespoons of sugar, and a cup of milk or evaporado. Plus a teaspoon of lemon juice to keep the avocado pulp from browning, and a pinch of salt to accentuate the sweetness.]


Avocados are a health food.

All this and more contained between Recto Avenue, Juan Luna Street, Rizal Avenue, and Escolta. Binondo is not nearly the same as San Francisco Chinatown, not by a long shot, but there are a few similarities.
Instead of a Canton - Hong kong focus, you should think of Foochow with a touch of Shanghai. Mostly Fujianese (Hokkien).
The neighborhood began centuries ago when merchants from the Fujian coast settled north of the Pasig river, and over several generations made their restricted neighborhood the financial heart of the city.
Emporiums, restaurants, benevolent societies.
Banks, schools, and hospitals.
Very modern.

By the beginning of the fifties, a number of non-Hokkien speakers had trickled south from places like Shanghai, and some immigrants from Hong Kong had also settled there, so dim sum eventually became available, albeit a selection more suited to strictly local tastes.

Both Hokkiens and Filipinos are major fatty pork peoples.

Still, Hong Kong eaties can be found in Binondo.

If you absolutely need a taste of home.

And don't like Mickey D's.


You just have to know that it won't have the same names there as it does here. For instance, what we know as 'mein' (麵 'min') is called 'mami', and rice stick noodle (米粉 'mai fan') is 'bihon' ('beehoon'), roast pork rice (叉燒飯 'chaa siu faan') is called 'asado rice', tripe (牛肚 'ngau tou') becomes 'goto', 'congee (粥 'juk') may be called 'lugaw', and so on. Filipino English is also a little different. Or an awful lot.
Instead of reading the menus in "English", do so in Chinese.
There will be much that is familiar.
And all delicious.

For instance:

嶸榮小食館 WAI YING FAST FOOD
810 Benavidez Street,
Binondo, Manila.

Just north of Estero De La Reina (Queen's creek), a short distance west of Ongpin Street. And not far from Ongpin North Bridge (王彬北橋).

A full selection of tasy snack foods. Dim sum items, noodles in soup, dumplings, buns, drinks.

The curried beef brisket rice plate (咖喱牛腩飯 'gaa lei ngau naam faan') is precisely what you remember. It's good, very good.

[In Hokkien pronunciation: 'ka-li gu-lam p'ng'.]


Speaking of such things, another place to try is a few blocks south of there.
Go down Onpin, across the creek (Estero De La Reina'), and turn left at the second corner, which is Yuchengco. Keep on walking, past where Gandara and Sabrino Padilla meet, to the corner of Dasmariñas.


嶸嶸茶餐廳 YING YING TEAHOUSE
233-235 Dasmariñas Street,
Binondo, Manila.

[Former location of the President, which was an institution. Remember the black bean eel? Plus kangkong. And no, I do not have a clue why the 'ying' (嶸) in the previously mentioned restaurant is pronounced 'wai'. English and Chinese names of businesses often don't match. Consider Yummy Dim Sum on Stockton Street, for which the characters read 'kam faa faai chan ("golden elegance fast food"). Anyway, Ying Ying is well-known for their 'white chicken', which to many Cantonese is the measure of cuisine.]

This, precisely, is what happens when a Hong Kong style cha-chanteng ("tea restaurant") meets Filipino food. All the HK favourites, plus lechon kawali, mango shakes, hot and cold condensed milk beverages.
And an entire section of frog on the menu.
Ribbit.

As well as Okiam Chicken: 南乳焗雞.

Okiam describes a typical marinade much used to flavour such things as chicken wings and pork knuckles. Mix red fermented beancurd (南乳 'naam yiü') with a lesser quantity of rice wine (米酒 'mai jau')) and a jigger of sesame oil (麻油 'maa yau'), dash of soy sauce (豉油 'si yau') for colour, and a teaspoon or three of sugar (糖 'tong'). Rub over, or use to marinate for several hours at least, before roasting at a high temperature.


I suspect that o-kiam chicken may be derived from 鹹雞 (salty chicken; Hokkien pronunciation 'kiam ke'), made with red fermented beancurd as a Hakka influence, though traditional Hakka salty chicken (客家鹹雞 H: 'keh-kia kiam ke') uses only salt, water, and ginger, not fermented beancurd. But 'kiam' also means brine (as in 鹹菜  H: 'kiam chai'; pickled gailan or brassica spp.) and by extension, condiment (鹹酸  H: 'kiam s'ng'; salty-sours).

[Note: in some Hokkien dialects, chicken is pronounced 'ki'. Standard Hokkien often has 'ke', and rarely 'kwe'.]


Some famous Hokkien chickens

Ke ang we (雞公煲): cock in a pot. Lo-kiam ke (鹵鹹雞): soy-brine pickled chicken. Mwa-yiu ke (麻油雞): sesame oil chicken. Ngo-hiang ke (五香雞): five spice chicken. Sa-pwe ke (三杯雞): three cups chicken; chicken stewed with one cup each soy sauce, rice wine, and sesame oil, till dry and sizzling, almost smoking. Sugar and ginger are frequently included in the recipe. Sie ke (燒雞): roast chicken.
Tswui tso ke (醉糟雞): glutinous wine-lees steamed chicken.
Swi ke (水雞): frog; literally "water chicken".



AFTER THOUGHT

Filipino food is very good, and so are the many Hokkien dishes in Manila Chinatown. If you have a taste for Chinese pastries, there are a number of places to satisfy your cravings; lots of little things with red bean paste or linyong. Plus different versions of tikwe.

A friend is heading over to Manila in a week, so I dug up notes. I really wish I had been much more inquisitive, and asked probing questions about cooking methods and ingredients. But people over there tend to be vague or secretive about key details, especially when it comes to something they proudly claim as their family's own, or a part of their business and fundamental to their fortunes.

I should have kept better records.
And I'm hungry right now.
Time for tocino.



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