Travels in the Philippines - Part 1 - Characters in wonderland

All credit goes to Scott Ruffenr for this Classic handcrafted piece of writing 

 Flat gray light obscures the horizon, merging the sky and sea into one vast expanse from north to south along the undulating La Union coastline. Low green hills trap the early morning smoke from trash fires; giving one the impression of steam emanating from the thick rain soaked trees and brush.

Perhaps it looked like this for the invading American infantry sitting offshore waiting to assault the Japanese occupiers some 60 years ago. You will see no evidence now of that titanic conflict. The small barrios dotting the coast seem to have been completely undisturbed. No testimony remains to the conflict. No statues of heroes, nor any monument or markers to the soldiers remain, only San Miguel Beer and Coca-Cola signs signal commerce of the 21st century.

Jeepneys and trikes ply the belt highway, moving the seemingly unlimited amount of school children on their way to classes. They all wear uniforms of crisp, white shirts, with plaid or navy blue shorts and skirts. Despite the oppressive poverty that grips the country; the chatter and laughing continue day by day. Elbows and knees bumping against one another, in the back of the smoke belching diesel transports.

This is what Manila people call “The Provinces”. That is to say: anywhere outside Manila is “The Provinces”. While each province is so very different to the others, including completely different languages; they are in many ways just the same. Everywhere one looks in “The Province” there are children holding hands walking to school, or to the small neighborhood sari-sari store for candy.

Young men lounge on the backs of their 150CC Honda motorbikes smoking cigarettes. It seems they have nothing to do in the middle of the day. Women sweep the doorsteps with native brooms, while young boys throw stones at the mange infested dogs on the street.

Roosters are prized possessions in “The Provinces” .Many of them are housed in small A-Framed little houses and tethered to a spike in the ground. Bright gold, emerald, and black feathers preening under the distinctive flame- red crowned head, the cock crows at any hour he likes with impunity.

Noise is another of those constants in “The Provinces”. Dogs bark, cocks crow, motorcycles with no mufflers, diesel trucks, and karaoke machines on every street. The average Filipino is deaf to it all! So many city dwellers pine for the “quiet countryside”.

Stay at home is my advice to them. Foreigners, especially Americans, cannot understand how noisy it is here in “The Provinces”. Sleep deprivation is not what one expects to find here. I suppose the Filipino is so accustomed to living in close proximity to his family in cramped housing, he gets used to the cacophony of everyday life here. Travel through an airport and bus station anywhere in the world and you will find Filipinos blissfully sleeping in the waiting area. Nary a twitch will you see from the prostrate bodies when the blaring public announcement comes over a P.A. system.

La Union sits on the northwest coast of Luzon facing the South China Sea. Just north of the capital of the province San Fernando; lays San Juan, and one of its “Barangays”, Urbiz Tondo. This is where the surfers from many different countries have come to catch a few waves . Americans, Australians, Kiwis, Japanese, even a couple of Swiss are here to challenge the somewhat sloppy wave that washes onto the reef here. No professional surfers here, no one is even close to being famous, as far as I know. Although a few of the older Aussies always talk about their “Legend” mates.


So what characters inhabit the patch of the planet? I will try to plumb their depths for you dear reader. Let’s start with the expats.


Drama Queen Dave:Drama Queen Dave is looking for something, but determined not to find it.

45 years old and from Australia, he has sandy blonde hair, over a somewhat handsome and pleasing face. He stands about five feet six inches in height, and his ribs are on full display as he almost never eats. Thus, I figure he must tip the scale at about no more than 135 pounds. His diminutive size is a source of much social persecution according to his accounts.

Dave works as a stage hand in the theatre business, as well as having worked as a manager of nightclubs too. He also had self described booze and drug filled history of working as a “roadie” on rock n’ roll tours around Australia. Dave likes to surf the beach break rather than the point, so he is not far from his pack of cigarettes.

That “something” he is looking for is a girl. His problem is this: He is a parsimonious penny-pincher as most Aussies hereabouts are. Yet, all the girls here are intent on separating him from as much of his cash as they can. The fact that all of these girls are desperately poor, with literally hardly enough money to buy food; is lost on him.

“She’s a fucking bitch” is his typical response when he moves on to the next affair.


He relentlessly explains his life and philosophy to all who will listen. Soap opera drama rules his life. Cigarette in one hand, and texting feverishly on his cell phone to yet another girl with the other; he manages to carry on two conversations at a time.( Actually, that is one and a half conversations; his text mate can return texts, but you will have a hard time talking back to him, as he never listens.) He will regale you with tales of revenge for the imagined slights he may have received from former paramours or pals.

Small in stature, but colossal in temperament; Drama Queen always gets even.


Nigel the Feral:The Feral can live on the fumes off an oily rag. One small surfboard, a knapsack with a couple of board shorts, two or three threadbare tank tops, and maybe a couple pieces of moldy bread and cheese. He claims to speak English; but he is completely incomprehensible to anyone but a Dingo or a Sydney taxicab driver; which is his real profession. Laden with Aussie slang, one has to pay close attention to his speech to pick up what he is saying. Usually he is complaining about how bloody expensive the beer is.

The Feral has been everywhere in The Philippines. He can be found in the most remote swampy mud holes looking for a new surf spot. Nothing seems to bother him; be it the filthy living conditions of the provinces, the awful food, nor the festering sores on his feet from coral cuts. He is quite famous around here for being the only human to have contracted both malaria and dengue fever at the same time! Getting the diseases in The Mentawi islands south of Sumatra he was lucky to get to a specialist at a hospital in Padang that saved his life. When asked what it was like to be that sick; he responded “It wuz Awwright mate”.

Nothing bothers the feral.



The Worlds Smallest American Aka Negsy ( for Negative) LloydWSA also lives on roots and berries. He tips the scales at 100lbs dripping wet. Holed up in his dingy cinder block room across the road from the surf camp, he works his computer at night trying to make a living trading stocks on margin.

He has no money. Everyone here knows that, since he has never in 5 years bought a beer for anyone. Weeks, even months go by that he will stay in his room while the rest of the gang go out to the bars, as he can’t afford to party at 50 pesos a beer.

He spends most nights propped up on his pillow with a filthy T-shirt for a cover watching TV .Sweat fumes emanating from the sheets so old they are a grayish-yellow. Negsy is clinically depressed, so he views all events in a very negative way. This is where his moniker of “Negsy” comes from. . No one hates a crowd in the surf more than him. Coming from Southern California it is hard to blame him. Anyone speaking of bringing some buddies from their home country to surf our spot is treated to a snarl or sigh of exasperation from Negsy.

That is not to say he his unfriendly; he likes the fun life too like us. Girls, beer, and talking about surf. He is not fussy either. He will take the biggest honkers from the bars and literally squeak with delight when he describes his night of lust. “ I love ‘em all!”, is his response to our horror. We really know he doesn’t like the hot chicks because they may want a 100 peso lady drink! So Negsy takes up the slack for the ugly broads.

Yes! Sometimes he has enough money from trading, that he will make a run on the night life with the rest of us. The girls really like WSA. He qualifies in their bantam weight class... I actually saw one of the waitresses lift him from the floor, and place him on the bar stool. Growing up so small in school must have been rough. He has left the trimmed lawns and clean streets of the upper middle class in Dana Point, California. Unwilling to participate in the wealthiest society his parents have much succeeded in .A Spartan life of surfing every morning in a faraway land has been his choice. One has to admire his dedication to the waves

Beyond that; dedication to cynicism has been his escape.


Apocalypse Bill AKA The Godfather

“This whole fucking world is going in the shitter mate!This is a typical cheerful morning greeting from my landlord. One would think a guy in his 50’s living in a tropical island with access to cheap beer, young girls and decent surf; would be a little more upbeat!

However, Apocalypse Bill has decided to take the world upon his shoulders. He has married a Filipina and sired two children with her, as well as taking on her son from a former lover. He has built the apartment complex we live in, hired half the men of his wife’s barrio, and has taken on the responsibility of running this modest real estate empire.

This responsibility is furrowed deeply into his brow, as he describes the many crosses he has to bear for these Filipino “bastards”. A major part of our role as residents here is to be his confessors, his Freudian listeners, nay, his like minded buddies! His version of events, be they past, present or future are bleak, dark, and filled with self-imposed imaginary martyrdom. “It’s just fucked! The whole world is going in the shitter!” Most of us tenants just run up a white flag, and retreat to our rooms muttering about having to shower or to cook a meal.

Bill has all his eggs in the wife’s basket now, biologically and financially! Marriage in a third world Catholic country is fraught with peril, especially when it comes to money. The expat almost always has the cash, and the Filipina inevitably has none. When strife hits the relationship, one does not have to be an international banker to see who comes out the loser. Anything can happen to an expat in the Philippines; contracts, land deeds, business ownership is completely vulnerable to corrupt manipulation, by Filipinos. One has to be quite an optimist to get married here. I sometimes feel there is something of a Lord Jim in AB.

Despite that, Bill has bigger worries. Tucked away in this little backwater of the world, he is convinced George Bush is sitting in the oval office directly intent on ruining his life, as well a planning on how to bring about the end of the world. Every headline or story on cable news is taken as a personal affront by Bill.

AB, is both American and Australian, carrying two passports. His early years were spent down under developing that terrific Aussie accent, while spending his high school years in Southern California during the 60’s. Bill has an encyclopedic knowledge of all things counter-culture. From The Beach Boys, to Timothy Leary, he can dredge up old trivia that have hidden away in my memory for years. Regularly cursing Richard Nixon as the devil incarnate; he will display his moldy and tattered draft card, and launch once again into a tirade against the powers that be in Washington.

Most of my surfer neighbors that live in AB’s apartment building, are more concerned with the price of beer or pot, and have a bemused response to his political, historical, but truly knowledgeable rants. For the most part, they really don’t know what he is talking about.

AB’s geo-political speeches get lost in the northern Luzon trade winds mixing with the sound of barking dogs, laughing children, and videoke machines in the barrio.