I just got some info from a friend on air quality in Metro Manila. The world health organisation suggests that to prevent ill health air pollution should be at less than 20 micrograms of particulate matter per cubic meter. Long term exposure to a pollutant level of 70 micrograms of particulate matter per cubic meter or greater significantly increases the risk of contracting a respiratory related illness. Metro Manila has an average of 138, the dirtiest is the stretch of Edsa with 282, over 3 times the w h o target. It's probably not a good idea to live around Edsa.
Interesting data at http://www.portfolio.mvm.ed.ac.uk/studentwebs/session4/27/citydiff.htm
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
I don't know Brough.
His taller than average height, burly build and dark coarse unkempt hair was his camouflage for a sincere and sensitive heart. The slightly overlength blue jeans and very short sleeved body huggin tee added the gravel that peaked out that tough man image. He was clearly western. In Asia he turned heads. Mostly female. All young and on bodies jangling with hormones that jangled still further with Brough in their vision. Brough belied his image. He wasn't a steel erector or a mountaineer. He was a clever and sensitive writer.
I last read his work in a short story submitted to a writers periodical dedicated to award consideration.
In the style of introversion.
The principal character, Brough's brother, Barrge, had submitted his heart to a Philippina. She was young and attractive; a generation lesser than Barrge. Brough adeptly relayed Barrge's emotional dilemmas as the relationship, aggravated by distance and teased by culture, convulsed through a storm of dramas each with their own circumstantial twist and intrigue. Barrge was focused on creating a business for their combined future in a neighbouring country. Brilliantly, the character signatures were scribed by Brough's deft hand. Barrge's difficulty in interpreting his Philippina's behavioural characteristics including anomolies such as indesire or inability to communicate in times of difficulty, a desire to literally run from conflict and confrontation, and an insatiable appetite for material gratification were delightfully relayed to beguiled readers. Brough's tale simmered toward an awesome conclusion as Barrge's Philippina announced, on what was to be Barrge's last visit to her home town, her intention to marry an internet suitor. Her underhand deceit and wideangle immorality were cleverly used by Brough to illustrate Barrge's sincerity and honesty. In the penultimate twist she declares herself pregnant to the remote Barrge with Barrge's child. An early term miscarriage (?) brings Barrge to the edge of emotional free fall as Brough's pen cascades toward the punishing finali. No less than three weeks after the miscarriage the still remote and emotionally bedraggled Barrge is informed of his Philippina's new live in lover, by her sms. Barrge's pain becomes his strength and Brough's talent with the written word paints a colourful and indelible image of Barrge mixing realisation with release to close the darkroom door and turn to face a new, bright, exciting future.
Then I realised that Brough was an only child and up until recently he'd had a girlfriend abroad. So... that's the style of introversion. Please read the title again.
I last read his work in a short story submitted to a writers periodical dedicated to award consideration.
In the style of introversion.
The principal character, Brough's brother, Barrge, had submitted his heart to a Philippina. She was young and attractive; a generation lesser than Barrge. Brough adeptly relayed Barrge's emotional dilemmas as the relationship, aggravated by distance and teased by culture, convulsed through a storm of dramas each with their own circumstantial twist and intrigue. Barrge was focused on creating a business for their combined future in a neighbouring country. Brilliantly, the character signatures were scribed by Brough's deft hand. Barrge's difficulty in interpreting his Philippina's behavioural characteristics including anomolies such as indesire or inability to communicate in times of difficulty, a desire to literally run from conflict and confrontation, and an insatiable appetite for material gratification were delightfully relayed to beguiled readers. Brough's tale simmered toward an awesome conclusion as Barrge's Philippina announced, on what was to be Barrge's last visit to her home town, her intention to marry an internet suitor. Her underhand deceit and wideangle immorality were cleverly used by Brough to illustrate Barrge's sincerity and honesty. In the penultimate twist she declares herself pregnant to the remote Barrge with Barrge's child. An early term miscarriage (?) brings Barrge to the edge of emotional free fall as Brough's pen cascades toward the punishing finali. No less than three weeks after the miscarriage the still remote and emotionally bedraggled Barrge is informed of his Philippina's new live in lover, by her sms. Barrge's pain becomes his strength and Brough's talent with the written word paints a colourful and indelible image of Barrge mixing realisation with release to close the darkroom door and turn to face a new, bright, exciting future.
Then I realised that Brough was an only child and up until recently he'd had a girlfriend abroad. So... that's the style of introversion. Please read the title again.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Manilan, Philippines observations.
A Philippine shop worker/sales assistant in
A four station trip on the Manila MRT will cost around 10peso. A taxi ride for a foreigner for a similar length trip is likely to cost around 200 peso.
Taxi's use a meter system that appear to be operational most of the time, however be prepared for the taxi driver to ask for the meter plus 50 peso in heavy traffic which is most of the time in
San Miguel Pale Pilsen beer costs less than 30 peso for a 320ml bottle in the supermarket. The same size bottle will sell for double that price in an average bar/restaurant. Still good value and a third to half of the cost of a similar amount in
Air pollution in
Manila weather in June is variable with frequent high winds and heavy rain. June is the middle of the three or four month typhoon season. I recall visiting via a flight from
The people are vibrant, energetic and happy. There is a clear live for today and worry about tomorrow, tomorrow mentality.
There is a strong Latino element in their inherited character producing much musical talent and dance desire and ability.
There are over 7100 islands. If the question of precisely how many islands make up the
The food grows on you and deposits itself within you being wrought with saturated fats due to pork and pork skin and fat content. Pinakbet, sizzling sisig and adobo dishes are musts.
Rice is the backbone of the Philippinos basic diet.
Alcohol consumption is unlimited.
Philippine Shopping Mall mentality leads Asian Shopping Mall mentality. Operations like the SM Megamall in Ortigas and the Roxas Boulevard Mall of
Walled and guarded communities are a way of life. Poverty and city 'street people' are also a way of life hence the walled and guarded communities.
The many beautiful locations away from
The
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Manila R&R
Gloria Jeans Coffees in Makati Avenue, central Manila offers fine brewed coffee plus the de riguer range of pastries for a late 20th century style coffee shop. It earnt my patronage as the second stop of the morning behind a vegetable laden breakfast roll a few doors along the avenue at Subway. The internet connection at the Australian franchised coffee house was reliable and fast allowing me to collect email, chat, blog and continue experimenting with the google web tools. GJ Coffees hovers at the Gloriettas outer edge and offers a pleasant outlook across the minipark towards the ignominous Shangri La Hotel. If inspiration waned a glance toward the park re ignited thought processes. A constant stream of shoppers and shop workers along the GJ Coffees frontage make those quiet moments a people watchers haven. Manila's Hard Rock Cafe and Friday's restaurant reside in the same block and indelibly mark this stretch as a pinnacle of F&B oriented R&R in the heart of Manila's business district.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Low cost travel or trickery?
Yo Yo provide a bus link from Bercham in Ipoh, Perak, Malaysia direct to KLIA main and LCC terminals. At RM43 for the one way ride it's an ok deal. The buses are clean, spacious, well maintained and cool. The trip takes about 2.5hrs and Yo Yo recommend allowing 3 hrs to make the trip. So I did and it meant leaving Ipoh on the 1am bus to arrive in KLIA LCCT at around 4am in the morning in readiness for a 7.20am Air Asia flight to Manila in the Philippines. I slept lightly on the bus and ate (Mc D!?!?) to relieve boredom at the airport. Check in opened at 5.30am. With my bag despatched to the dungeonous mysteries of the KLIA conveyors and a boarding pass tucked into my passport I left the main concourse for the departure lounge and a singular duty free task. Terry's gin aka Gordon's Gin upon purchase at the duty free shop is sealed into a specimen bag large enough to contain a gaggle of such bottles.
Air Asia have finally ditched the free seating approach to loading the plane. Their reason I guess they would argue is that it's more orderly to have seats allocated at check in although I don't think you can request a particular seat or even location such as window or aisle at the check in process. I have however noticed that there is now an opportunity to add Rm10 to your fare for the priveledge of selecting a preference seat at the internet booking process. Low cost travel or trickery, I occasionally ask myself.
I was fortunate enough to have been allocated an aisle seat, allowing me to thrust the parts of my European form not easily located into the pen between seats, out into the aisle. This irritates the stewards endlessly who counter attack by kicking and wheeling trolleys into me at every opportunity. The seats recline one inch in the interests of economy. As if in compensation they are leather and much is made of this in the amateur banter attempted by the leading stewardess in attempts at lifting the moods of passengers depressed by the overpriced, undersized, taste free food portions and the hand dry towels in the toilets that regress to multiple white tacky globules once moist and in contact with skin. Dry your unshaven face with the hand towels in Air Asia in flight toilets and you will appear to have contracted an in flight mucus that if managed properly could do more for the amusement of other passengers than any banter over leather seats.
The eventful three and half hour flight to Clarke Air Base (a hangover from the American occupation of the area) in Pampangas Philippines was concluded with a smoothe landing on a wet runway. As usual people are out of their seats before the plane has come to a halt, hauling heavy and fragile bags out of the overhead lockers and then stumbling with them as the pilot finally hits the brake pedal. One industrious Philippino was fighting his way up the aisle from a point beyond the wing exits to acheive pole position on the start grid for the door openings. Smile I did when it was announced that we would be departing from the rear of the plane to facilitate a bus service laid on to keep us dry in our passage to the immigration and customs area.
The Philtranco coach to the SM Megamall in Ortigas, apparently the closest stop to Makati cost me 300peso. Alighting from the coach was comparable to being submitted to a bear pit. I fended of the frenzy off taxi drivers who are intent on not only capturing my fare but partaking in conversation about where I'm going before I even make eye contact, My God! I recovered my rucksack from the hold of the bus and walked away from the drop point in the opposite direction to that of the taxi rank.
I sweated a little as I walked away but fell on my feet when in conversation with a street vendor discovered that there was an MRT station on the other side of the Meagamall building. I think it was Shaw Boulevard or Shaw Station and the fare to Ayala was 11peso. A bargain compared to the 250-300 that I would have been paying in a taxi.
Air Asia have finally ditched the free seating approach to loading the plane. Their reason I guess they would argue is that it's more orderly to have seats allocated at check in although I don't think you can request a particular seat or even location such as window or aisle at the check in process. I have however noticed that there is now an opportunity to add Rm10 to your fare for the priveledge of selecting a preference seat at the internet booking process. Low cost travel or trickery, I occasionally ask myself.
I was fortunate enough to have been allocated an aisle seat, allowing me to thrust the parts of my European form not easily located into the pen between seats, out into the aisle. This irritates the stewards endlessly who counter attack by kicking and wheeling trolleys into me at every opportunity. The seats recline one inch in the interests of economy. As if in compensation they are leather and much is made of this in the amateur banter attempted by the leading stewardess in attempts at lifting the moods of passengers depressed by the overpriced, undersized, taste free food portions and the hand dry towels in the toilets that regress to multiple white tacky globules once moist and in contact with skin. Dry your unshaven face with the hand towels in Air Asia in flight toilets and you will appear to have contracted an in flight mucus that if managed properly could do more for the amusement of other passengers than any banter over leather seats.
The eventful three and half hour flight to Clarke Air Base (a hangover from the American occupation of the area) in Pampangas Philippines was concluded with a smoothe landing on a wet runway. As usual people are out of their seats before the plane has come to a halt, hauling heavy and fragile bags out of the overhead lockers and then stumbling with them as the pilot finally hits the brake pedal. One industrious Philippino was fighting his way up the aisle from a point beyond the wing exits to acheive pole position on the start grid for the door openings. Smile I did when it was announced that we would be departing from the rear of the plane to facilitate a bus service laid on to keep us dry in our passage to the immigration and customs area.
The Philtranco coach to the SM Megamall in Ortigas, apparently the closest stop to Makati cost me 300peso. Alighting from the coach was comparable to being submitted to a bear pit. I fended of the frenzy off taxi drivers who are intent on not only capturing my fare but partaking in conversation about where I'm going before I even make eye contact, My God! I recovered my rucksack from the hold of the bus and walked away from the drop point in the opposite direction to that of the taxi rank.
I sweated a little as I walked away but fell on my feet when in conversation with a street vendor discovered that there was an MRT station on the other side of the Meagamall building. I think it was Shaw Boulevard or Shaw Station and the fare to Ayala was 11peso. A bargain compared to the 250-300 that I would have been paying in a taxi.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Drinks at Houz!
Authors Note: Not as much as one of the characters in the following paragraphs are fictitious. Any character resemblance to individuals within my social circle is completely intended. :-P
Interesting bit of social last night. Got invited to a few drinks at Houz. Eagle and Flamingo were going to be there and Toucan would pick me up to take me there in her car. For a drink with Flamingo I thought I would be able to put up with a car ride from Toucan. She was late picking me up and when I asked her what happened to make her late she reported that she couldn't decide what to wear. I wound the window down to vomit but managed to hold back. Instead I just commented that the deliberation wasn't worth it and she still looked like a Nag. Nah just joking. Anyway..pleasant car ride with Toucan where the conversation went along the lines 'so Graham you live in Ipoh Garden East?' ; 'Yes Toucan.'; And that's the house you live in?'; 'Yes Toucan.' ; ' I seeee' ; by which time I was asleep.
After a remarkable hunt for a car park space which contained missed turnings, missed spaces and, thankfully, a few missed pedestrians I was tasked with slithering out of a three and a quarter inch door opening, a biproduct of Toucan's act of wedging the Myvi into a space that, in a previous life, had been a concrete anchor for the ubiquitous 1980's style public phone kiosk (and still retained some of the bolt studs and wire ends that serve to mark Malaysians keen desire to minimise their expense on honorary tributes to 20th century technology).
In a feeble attempt to escape her presence for a few seconds I ran to the Pub from the parking space. I fumbled at the doorway with some frustrated pushes on pull signed glass entrance doors and the beaky presence of Toucan once more besieged me. We walked in together and I felt a warm flood of sweat engulf me as I realised the street wise Houz croud had clocked me and I had within seconds fallen from attractive, stylish, desirable bachelor, in their lofty esteem, to desperado of the month, possibly the year or even decade.
I was lifted by the smile and charismatic presence of Flamingo opposite Eagle perched on stools at a corner table. As I approached the table our eyes met and my hand went to her elbow. We conducted the cheek to cheek ritual that signifies the warm hello exchanged by those with a hope for more than just a drink together. Wicked. OMG.. dream on Graham!
Then the evening collapsed, again. Flamingo's husband arrived. There was an evacuation event that would have earnt medals of decoration for bravery and dedication to underhand activities for all involved had we been attached to any military organisation.
Within a few meagre minutes of arriving at the evening of my dreams I'd somehow been herded into the consolation position of one table, one bucket, one glass and one freedom.
C'est La Vie!!!!
Interesting bit of social last night. Got invited to a few drinks at Houz. Eagle and Flamingo were going to be there and Toucan would pick me up to take me there in her car. For a drink with Flamingo I thought I would be able to put up with a car ride from Toucan. She was late picking me up and when I asked her what happened to make her late she reported that she couldn't decide what to wear. I wound the window down to vomit but managed to hold back. Instead I just commented that the deliberation wasn't worth it and she still looked like a Nag. Nah just joking. Anyway..pleasant car ride with Toucan where the conversation went along the lines 'so Graham you live in Ipoh Garden East?' ; 'Yes Toucan.'; And that's the house you live in?'; 'Yes Toucan.' ; ' I seeee' ; by which time I was asleep.
After a remarkable hunt for a car park space which contained missed turnings, missed spaces and, thankfully, a few missed pedestrians I was tasked with slithering out of a three and a quarter inch door opening, a biproduct of Toucan's act of wedging the Myvi into a space that, in a previous life, had been a concrete anchor for the ubiquitous 1980's style public phone kiosk (and still retained some of the bolt studs and wire ends that serve to mark Malaysians keen desire to minimise their expense on honorary tributes to 20th century technology).
In a feeble attempt to escape her presence for a few seconds I ran to the Pub from the parking space. I fumbled at the doorway with some frustrated pushes on pull signed glass entrance doors and the beaky presence of Toucan once more besieged me. We walked in together and I felt a warm flood of sweat engulf me as I realised the street wise Houz croud had clocked me and I had within seconds fallen from attractive, stylish, desirable bachelor, in their lofty esteem, to desperado of the month, possibly the year or even decade.
I was lifted by the smile and charismatic presence of Flamingo opposite Eagle perched on stools at a corner table. As I approached the table our eyes met and my hand went to her elbow. We conducted the cheek to cheek ritual that signifies the warm hello exchanged by those with a hope for more than just a drink together. Wicked. OMG.. dream on Graham!
Then the evening collapsed, again. Flamingo's husband arrived. There was an evacuation event that would have earnt medals of decoration for bravery and dedication to underhand activities for all involved had we been attached to any military organisation.
Within a few meagre minutes of arriving at the evening of my dreams I'd somehow been herded into the consolation position of one table, one bucket, one glass and one freedom.
C'est La Vie!!!!
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