The National Pastime

The first time I participated in Princeton in Asia, then executive director Carrie Gordon gave us a piece of advice I will always remember: Don't bring music with you to Asia. It will force you to get to know the local music.

I disregarded her advice completely, and I was happy I did so. Music in China was really about boy bands and Celine Dion. So I can't say I really missed out on a cultural experience by bringing music. In fact, I think it may have kept me sane that I had a small collection of CDs with me. (And of course I was exposed, nonetheless, to the music of choice of the Chinese youth simply because I was a teacher.)

Two years later, and I'm back in Asia, but this time in the Philippines, which I am fast learning is the captial of the bad '70s and '80s love song. I have had cab drivers spontaniously burst into song when the radio starts playing "Almost Paradise." I hear "Especially for You" at least two times a day--it's played on the radio and it's a karaoke favorite. I didn't even know that song until I moved to Manila, but now I have the lyrics constantly stuck in my head....

I wanna show you
My heart is oh so true
And all the love I have
Is especially for you

And when I finally rid them from my brain, someone outside my apartment will start singing it at the karaoke bar below me.

In response to the barrage of bad music, I find myself walking around my apartment with my iPod glued to my ears. I'm constantly trying to drown out the latest drunk guy belting out "November Rain" into a microphone. Don't get me wrong, I'm far from being a music snob. I have no right to be. But I'm not about to purchase a copy of the acousitic version of "Hit Me Baby One More Time" I heard the other day. Oh, by the way, that one was performed by a man -- not Britany Spears. (I'm not sure which one is worse, really.)

Now karaoke is popular all over Asia, but I have yet to hear about a place where karaoke is as out of control as it is in the Philippines. Luckily, probably 99 percent of Filipinos have good voices -- or can at least carry a tune. It's something that's pretty much ingrained since birth, at least according to my observations. When you can talk, you can sing. And I'm sure the training starts before the child has even left the womb.

This has, in turned, spawned a nation obsessed with karaoke -- and has made the inventor of this amazing item, no doubt, extremely wealthy. One of my friends here actually suggested I purchase said item so I can practice my singing! I really have better things to spend $200 on than a Magic Mic -- complete with extra memory chips with all your favorite songs! And I'm not joking when I say this thing is a complete hit here. Filipinos abroad ask their families to buy them a Magic Mic because they can't find them in their overseas locations.

Singing really is the national pastime -- perhaps more so than baseball could ever be to the United States.

If I sound slightly mocking, I don't mean to. I'm really floored by this phenomenon. It's hard to take the whole singing thing seriously, because it's really quite funny. And it's everywhere. It's on the streets, in cabs, on the news. It's in malls, restaurants, and, in my case, it infiltrates my living space. But I have to admit that I have already fallen victim to a night of karaoke with some ABS employees. I will blame it completely on beer and peer pressure. Of course, the one person who was able to hold her ground and refuse to sing, is not only a local, but also drank way more than I did. This same person, an ABS employee, admitted to me that she hates karaoke.

"Sometimes I don't think I'm Pinoy, I hate karaoke so much. If I ever become president of this country, I'm going to take all the karaoke machines and build a bonfire with them."

I knew we would get along just fine. So I made a pact with her: I wouldn't sing if she wouldn't sing. But as the night wore on, and as I was continually pressured to sing ("Christina, these five beers are for you. I'm going to get you drunk and make you sing!"), I gave in. There are even pictures to prove it. My fellow karaoke-hater called me a traitor -- and rightly so.

Thank god we were at a slightly more upscale karaoke venue -- with our own private rooms so we only have to embarass ourselves in front of friends. And thank god we did not have one of the karaoke machine that gives scores when you're done with a song. I believe it scores out of 100 points. This intimidated me at first -- but then someone told me the machine really just delivers a score based on how loud you sing, not how good you are. That sort of made me feel better. And luckily I have not had to sing since. That does not mean, of course, that I am exempt from further karaoke nights.

I could really write about this forever, that's how much karaoke and hits from the '70s and '80s have been a part of my experience in the Philippines so far. But I need to go hide in a corner with my iPod to drown out the girl who is singing "Eternal Flame" as I write this.

I live in a place where things like this happen...

MANILA, Philippines Sep 27, 2005 — Passengers were buckled up when a crew member spotted a mouse darting across an aisle, triggering a chase that grounded a Qatar Airways plane at Manila airport for more than 12 hours.

The airline asked the 243 passengers to disembark, unloaded hundreds of pieces of luggage and brought the Airbus 330-200 to a hangar for a two-hour fumigation, the Philippine Daily Inquirer and the Philippine Star reported. The rodent was never found, so it either escaped or there's a dead mouse aboard the plane.

The only question I have is, why doesn't this stuff happen in the U.S.? It would make life there so much more...colorful.

One weekend, two beaches

A couple of weeks ago, I was invited to join my friends Karen and Mailah for a weekend in Cebu, the Philippines' second largest city. Although it is sort of a big city (the population is under one million, so I don't buy the whole "big city" title), it is also very close to beaches, and does not have the permanent haze that makes Manila look like it recently had a nuclear bomb dropped on it. Karen was working as an emcee at a conference for doctors, so we got to stay at the Shangri La on Mactan Island for free! I wouldn't even stay at a place like the Shangri La if I were making a U.S. salary, let alone on my Philippines stipend.

The resort was beautiful, but it had an interesting feature. Because the sand on Mactan Island is black, and the resort's executives decided they wanted their visitors to experience the famed white sand beaches of the Philippines, they imported sand from another island and plopped it down in front of the massive resort. Forget the fact that it's not indigenous to that island. The plan to import sand angered a few environmentalists, as it rightly should have, but it doesn't seem like anyone truly cared, since the Shangri La got its way.

But the best part was that this whole story was related to me as if it were completely normal. Only in Asia...

Here's the infamous white sand beach.

When Karen and Mailah left for Manila Sunday, I stayed in Cebu and bought a ticket to Bohol Island. It's one of the major islands in the Visayas, famed for its "chocolate hills." Instead of heading to the island's main tourist attraction, I went straight to Panglao Island. Another ABS-CBN employee had told me about Alona Beach on Panglao. She said that although it's mainly a dive resort, it's also incredibly beautiful and a great place to hang out for a few days. She gave me the number of a German guy, Holger Horn, who runs a dive shop, and told me to contact him when I got there -- he would hook me up with acommodations or anything else I needed, she said. (Connections are a HUGE thing here.)

Holger ended up being quite helpful, and told me a bit of the history of the area. Up until about two years ago, fishermen on Panglao would throw dynamite into coral reefs close to shore to "catch" fish. Obviously this did a great amount of damage to the coral and everything that lives in and around it. Holger helped turn the area into a marine sanctuary, and now there are dive shops that dot the beach. Although I've been told that there are beaches in the Philippines that are much more touristy, Alona had its share of foreign visitors. And rightly so. It is a magnificent place, and it boasts a real white sand beach.

I didn't get to go snorkeling -- the really good snorkeling is another boat ride away to yet another island -- and I only had a day. I ended up laying around sipping mango shakes. But even on Alona you can walk out about 10 feet from the shore and see some small fish, red and black starfish and some spiky looking sea creatures.

This morning (Tuesday) I flew back to Manila from Tagbilaran on Bohol, from what is probably the least secure airport I've ever seen in my life. I usually am annoyed by the almost too thorough bag searches at U.S. airports -- and how you practically have to take off half your clothes before going through the metal detector. But now I think it's actually comforting to have to go through the airport security ritual, especially after seeing the Tagbilaran airport, where two security guards open your bag, poke through it a bit, and then let you board the plane. That's it. No x-ray machines, one metal detector, and I'm sure they didn't rip open those taped up boxes that were being loaded onto the plane with us. No wonder most airports here have shrines to the Virgin Mary where you can make your (final?) offerings.

But when I got back to Manila, I was so relaxed from my three days on the beach that even an hour and a half taxi ride to my place in terrible traffic didn't stress me out.

Day trip

Three weeks and I was already beginning to feel sufocated by Manila. So Mailah, who has been helping me get my apartment and life set up here (she's also a producer at the network), knowing I wanted to get out of the city and see something different, suggested we join her friends for a day at Taal Lake in Batangas. The lake is surprisingly close to Manila -- maybe an hour drive away. This is surprising because the area is very green and isn't covered in a dense fog of diesel fumes.

The lake is known for a volcano that sits on an island in the lake. It's an active volcano, but on a nice day you can hike to the top and peek into the crater. Inside the crater is another lake. I invited Juliana, my Princeton in Asia partner in crime here in the Philippines, to join us. Juliana and I wanted to hike to the top, but when we decided to walk around for a while to explore, we realized that probably wasn't the best idea. After about 10 minutes of walking, we were both drenched in sweat.

But before that, our hosts took us out into the middle of the lake to watch them catch our lunch. There are a bunch of fish farms in the middle of the lake -- which are really just floating bamboo structures with nets under them to keep the fish from escaping. The fishermen pull up the nets to bring in the day's catch.

We really didn't do much that day, except eat. Later we took the boat back to the shore to get ready to leave. Walking around a bit (again, in the heat and humidity), we were surrounded by fields and palm trees. It made me remember that I am, in fact, on a tropical island -- something that's easy to forget in the middle of a city like Manila.

More of my photos from Saturday's trip are posted here.

My Way is much better than your way

Tuesday was a frustrating day on so many levels that I am not even going to begin to explain. But even on those seemingly endless, fruitless and rip-your-hair-out days, I can often find one thing about the day that makes me smile -- or has me rolling on the ground laughing.

After work Tuesday I met up with a coworker, who was hanging out with some friends at a nearby cafe. They're planning a trip this weekend and I'm invited! Yes! I need to get out of this city, even if it's just for a couple of hours. Anyway, the discussion somehow turned to karaoke, and my hosts told me that I should learn just one song so I don't offend people if they ask me to sing. (The fact that I can't sing, or that I'm terrified of audiences, doesn't seem to matter to anyone here. But that's another story.)

Then my hosts started to suggest different songs I could learn. "But whatever you do, don't sing 'My Way,'" said Mike, the owner of the cafe. Huh?

"You will get shot if you sing 'My Way.'"

After more confused looks, my hosts all started to explain: 'My Way' has been banned from most karaoke bars in Manila because multiple people have been shot (and killed) while singing 'My Way.' It isn't that people don't like the song -- it's that they like it too much.

Imagine this: A bar filled with drunks. One drunk man gets up and starts singing 'My Way.' When he's done, another drunk man, hanging out with a different group of friends, gets up and says he can sing the song better. He then sings 'My Way,' and first drunk man disagrees that second drunk man is better. An argument, escalating into a full on fight, begins. Guns are drawn, and, well, need I say more?

I really thought they were joking and was laughing hysterically. But my coworker, who produces the channel's flagship newscast, said it happens all the time. Even this Reuters story mentions the phenomenon in a story about gun proliferation in the Philippines.

After several shootings sparked by My Way, the Frank Sinatra favorite has become
a song to avoid at karaoke bars.

I guess that's just too bad for all those people who learned 'My Way' as their courtesy karaoke song. And if I hear someone singing 'My Way,' I think I'll just run for the door.

An introduction to politics in the Philippines

Tuesday afternoon I walked into the newsroom and started reading through the advisory and scripts for our two and three o'clock shows. Since I was assigned to the business news group about a week ago, I have a few regular tasks every day. It's nice to feel like there's some sense of regularity to my work day. It's also nice to feel like I may actually be contributing something.

The day started out quite normally. I had to write and edit business news scripts for the afternoon shows, even though ANC, the 24-hour cable channel, was broadcasting President Arroyo's impeachment hearings live. So far, watching the impeachment hearings has been a lot like watching C-SPAN -- a lot of politicians speaking at podiums for long periods of time -- something only your high school government teacher watches. I guess it goes without saying that Arroyo's impeachment is big news, and people have actually been watching the C-SPAN-like coverage. And now I know why.

Maybe an hour into my day, the impeachment hearings started to gain a bit of momentum. A pro-impeachment, anti-Arroyo lawmaker accused a pro-Arroyo lawmaker of trying to "railroad" the hearings. The opposition (as the anti-Arroyo politicians are referred to) grabbed a bunch of papers, threw them in the air, and walked out. Outside the Assembly, there was quite a crowd gathered as the opposition lawmakers hopped into vans and took off. As they were making their way through the crowds, I swear I saw pushing and shoving (and who knows, but I wouldn't be surprised if a few fists were thrown) as they were leaving.

Meanwhile, my coworkers are all clustered around the TVs, watching the political chaos unfold. What am I doing? I'm sitting at my desk, staring in disbelief, and then I'm laughing. The girl sitting next to me had the unenviable task of transcribing the live coverage. She stopped typing, rolled her eyes, and looked over at me. "Can you believe this?" I asked. "It's always like this," she said.

Later, during my dinner break, I started talking to a producer I work with on an evening show. "These hearings are crazy, I've never seen anything like this."

She didn't have much analysis or commentary to offer. But her comment was insightful enough: "Welcome to Philippine politics."

Read more about the impeachment:

Lawmakers exit Arroyo impeachment hearing

Philippine lawmakers quash impeachment

79 or bust on Monday

Hurricane Devastation

There are plenty of Philippine-centric things I've been meaning to write about on this blog -- like President Arroyo's impeachment hearings, which, as AP so aptly put it, "degenerated to chaos." But I'd like to take a moment to comment on what's going on in New Orleans, and the U.S. government's absolutely disgraceful response to the situation.

With reports of food shortages, unsanitary conditionsn at refugee sites and sniper fire at relief crews, I have one question: What the hell is President Bush doing right now?

The comments of the New Orleans director for homeland security in a New York Times article were probably the most blunt.

Col. Terry Ebbert, director of homeland security for New Orleans, concurred and he was particularly pungent in his criticism. Asserting that the whole recovery operation had been "carried on the backs of the little guys for four goddamn days," he said "the rest of the goddamn nation can't get us any resources for security."

"We are like little birds with our mouths open and you don't have to be very smart to know where to drop the worm," Colonel Ebbert said. "It's criminal within the confines of the United States that within one hour of the hurricane they weren't force-feeding us. It's like FEMA has never been to a hurricane." FEMA is the Federal Emergency Management Agency.

With all the resources in the United States, why are people dying at refugee camps? Why are people going four days without food and water? Why can't the National Guard fly into the hospital where private rescue crews have been trying to deliver medical supplies, but haven't been able to because every time they approach, they're shot at?

After President Bush's response to 9/11, I guess it doesn't surprise me that he would show his face a day too late and give an unsatisfactory report, saying that this devastation will only make America stronger. I can't help but agree with this editorial, and ask, where is a leader when the U.S. really needs one?