I also came across a stationery store that was, astonishingly, open. Even more astonishing, they had flash drives for sale. They even had Kingston Data Traveller 32GB flash drives. The bad news was that they were charging 2,200 pesos for them. That is more than three times what I paid for my 32GB flash drives at the shop at Robinsons in the pre-typhoon days.
I walked past my favorite coffee shop near the cathedral on the off-chance that it was open, but it wasn’t. Then I walked to Alejandro’s – the historical hotel. On the way, I spotted a very heavy-set white dude walking in the same direction. He was pretty clearly an American aid worker of some kind. I intercepted him in the lobby of the Alejandro and tossed some small talk his way. To my delight, he took the bait and we stood around and chatted for a while.
I can now add this American man to my long list of people that I’m jealous of. He casually mentioned a long string of places he’d just been, including Ormoc and Guiuan. He described what it was like in those places as well as the road conditions. He’d seen all of that, and yet he’d only been here a week.
The man was an electrical engineer and had been called in by someone – presumably a UN division – as a consultant. He was only supposed to be here a week, but he said that he would probably end up extending his stay.
He was quite animated by everything he had seen, and his expert knowledge and macro point of view was a breath of fresh air. For example, he mentioned that many thousands of transformers – the kind that sit on top of telephone poles – needed to be replaced before electricity could be restored across the islands. The problem was that these transformers were built in very few places around the world, and it would take a long time to get enough of them. He mentioned the econonomic boom in various countries as well as some other natural disasters that had occurred and explained that this had created high demand and a long waiting list for transformers. Even with money to spend, the Philippines will have trouble getting them. Without electricity, he said, the economy will be unlikely to recover from this typhoon anytime soon.
I liked this talk of big things, such as the full electricity supply system. Fixing that does seem like a high priority, and it seems like a clear area where international assistance can be of use if not vital. Once the Filipinos have electricity, foreigners can get out and let the Filipinos do their thing their way. All the NGO work aimed at livelihood projects, etc. seem suspect to me. But a big project to restore the electrical grid is a no-brainer in terms of being helpful. I think.
It took me three runs at it, but I finally got up the energy to get a drink and sit down in the Alejandro’s café. It was a bizarre experience. It was clearly where I belonged. Everyone in there was white and intently typing away on a shiny laptop. Yet, I felt completely out of place and even uncomfortable. I was only too aware that I had just come from a world of no electricity, no Internet, no running water, and very stinky and dirty clothes, bedsheets, and bathrooms. Even after all this time, I still felt cut off from the world and lacking in everything and kind of stuck. I’m dependent on everyone around me for food, for charging my cell phone and camera batteries, for getting on the Internet, for access to a computer to download from this NEO (which I have to do again), for bicycle parts, and on and on. The people in the café had all these things in spades and much, much more. They had local drivers powering huge, white four by fours and pick-up tracks. One such truck was in the driveway when I showed up, and its door was open. I stopped and gazed at the luxurious interior with all the wonder of a nine-year-old boy from the ghetto who had never sat in such a thing. I wanted to get inside and run my hands over all those controls and knobs and dials and smooth surfaces. I felt that someone was going to show up and shout at me to go away – which shows just how much my transformation has taken hold. The people in the café were neat and clean with all the water in their rooms and the laundry service and their extra clothes fresh out of their suitcases. They had all the electricity they needed and probably didn’t even think about it. They had the world at their fingertips through laptops, wi-fi, smartphones, satellite phones, and who knew what else. They had a steady (and probably generous) income flowing into their bank accounts while they were here, and they had medical insurance, and, most of all, access to easy transportation as they jetted around the Philippines and around the world. I felt far removed from them and their world.
When I first went in, I saw a young couple sitting at one table. They were sitting opposite each other, but not talking. They each had an open laptop in front of them and were busy typing and clicking and swiping. I noticed that the man was sipping on what looked like a mango shake. It was the sight of that mango shake that decided me, and I went to the counter.
It’s typical that I felt like an impostor and risked being kicked out. As a white guy, I was probably expected to stride to a table, sit down and then look around importantly and bang on the table for service or something. Instead, I diffidently went up to the counter and asked if it was okay for me to have just a drink and sit out in the casual lobby area. I didn’t want to sit at one of the fancy lunch tables in the café proper. That was fine, of course, and I ordered a mango shake for 90 pesos.
The shake was delicious. I could have had ten of them in a row. There was even a slice of mango on the glass rim and munching on that was heavenly. I don’t generally eat fresh fruit, but I love it when it is already cut up and you can just pop it in your mouth.
I enjoyed my mango shake and just sat there with absolutely nothing to do. I didn’t have my NEO or my camera. I had no maps. I had nothing. I kept busy by going through my money pouch. I confirmed that my visa expires on January 29th. Then I just sat there and looked around. I really wanted to establish contact with one of these powerful (to me) figures in the room, but it was not possible. Everyone was married to a laptop and that relationship is sacred and can’t easily be interrupted.
It’s funny, but I keep thinking that just a chance encounter with the right person could transform my existence here. Any one of these people could, with a snap of the fingers, solve all my problems and even pop me into a gleaming new vehicle for a ride around the countryside. More than that, I thirsted for information – to know what was going on. But it was not to be. If these were Filipinos or even Asians from another country, it would be easy. They are so much more open and accepting and informal. But these Westerners were a different breed.
While talking with the American electrical engineer, I was amused that I wanted to establish my credentials as an experienced typhoon type. This man, for example, had just come back from a walk around Tacloban and he was shaking his head at all the damage. That felt weird, because I knew that Tacloban – the downtown area where he was walking – always looked like this. What he had seen was just normal Tacloban exactly as it had been before the typhoon. All the “damage” he was referring to was just normal Philippines. All the damage and debris caused by the typhoon had been cleaned up and removed long ago. Even though I had been here for months before the typhoon, experienced the typhoon itself, and then seen the city every day since as it recovered, I was put in the position of listening to this guy tell me about everything. He had been here only a week and he was the expert telling me all about it. I tried to insert the fact that I had been here in Tacloban when the typhoon hit, but he was one of the typical sorts of people that don’t listen and just like to talk. When I got back to the pension house, I determined to return to the Alejandro the next day (today) and repeat the experience. Perhaps I would get lucky and someone from the WHO would hire me as a consultant, and I’d get to drive around in a nice pick-up truck. That was the plan for this morning – to have coffee at Alejandro’s – but the non-stop rain has kept me inside. I’ve been waiting for the rain to just let up a bit, but it shows no sign of doing so.
I spent most of last night going over the pictures on one of my memory cards and resizing those that I might want to post on Facebook. Unfortunately, all the pictures on memory cards 2 and 3 are now copied to flash drives, and I can’t access them without a computer. I went over card number 4. My experience at Alejandro’s made me think that I should make some sort of attempt to do something with these photos other than just put them on Facebook and Flickr. But I really don’t know what.
Progress at the pension house seems to have ground to a halt. The rain and the holidays have combined to have that effect. I haven’t seen the laundry women for a few days. Rene and Leanne hang around a bit from time to time, but they don’t do anything. The two boys – Guapo and another guy – are around sometimes. They appear to be sleeping here. The security guard is here at night occasionally.
I ran into the security guard yesterday on the street. He was on his pedicab, and I got to inspect it in detail. It was astonishing. His pedicab used a motorcycle drive train. The chain, sprockets and hubs were all from a motorcycle. The spokes were very thick, but I’m not sure if they were motorcycle spokes. The rims were bicycle rims and were 28 inch. The frame was made out of steel and very heavy-duty and welded together and held together with big bolts. It was a beast. He said that a brand new pedicab costs 10,000 pesos. That seemed pretty cheap to me considering that it includes a full bicycle plus all the pedicab parts. Perhaps I just don’t understand what a regular bicycle is considered to cost. The mountain bikes I see on the streets now are probably not so expensive, but they are clearly very cheaply made. Nothing on them will last very long and they will soon turn to junk. The guard also told me that he charges 10 pesos per passenger for a normal trip around town.