Visiting when travelling

A colleague posted on Facebook last night, a piece on how a visitor from a ‘first world’ country had stayed with her and her family, didn’t engage with them, never said thank you, and left their home without saying goodbye.  Downright rude, me thinks.

One of the great things I love about travel is meeting people from other places, not only fellow travelers, but those local to the places I visit.  Occasionally I have been privileged and invited in to their homes.  For nine years I have been teaching in Singapore and Hong Kong.  The friends I have made there are wonderful and always happy to see me, as I am happy to see them.  Twice in Singapore I have been invited in to a home. While this may not seem as frequent as here in Australia, the cultures are different and home entertainment of guests is not as common as here.  Each of these occasions was dissimilar. One was a feast after Ramadan and the other to a Singaporean Indian parent’s home.  Both were wonderful experiences and I am happy to have them as my friends.  Others have made the effort and shared coffees, meals or beers that have been fun and enjoyable moments in my traveling journey.

This brings me to my recent trip to Cebu in the Philippines.  In my previous blog I mentioned that I was invited to the parents’ home of my colleague.  Having moved through the general area where the family lived I had a basic understanding of the style of home they owned.  Again, I cannot, nor should I, compare this with Australia, it is different.  In the part of the Philippines (at least) it is not normal for each house to have a road frontage,.  Each residence is connected to the main road via a network of pathways.  Whilst the homes are of a good size, the surrounding property is limited in area.  That is, no extensive gardens or outdoor areas other than for cooking.

This time the taxi ride, from The Henry Hotel, out past the international airport on Mactan Island, was quicker as the traffic, whilst still heavy, flowed easily.  It was dark and street lighting was minimal.  When I arrived I was formally met by the family.  And I mean the whole family, grandparents, older aunt, parents, children and grand children.  Thirteen adults and five children.  The formality was special.  Age is held in high esteem here and the younger family members not only greeted me politely, but in the formal custom of the Philippines brought my hand to their forehead as a mark of respect.  Conversation was polite and as people relaxed the formality slipped away a little and the family interaction became evident.

Conversation with the younger members was easy as their English was excellent.  Remember I was the one lacking here, I speak one language, they all speak at least three.   Even the youngest, Liam, a four-year old, understood at least two languages.  Their home was warm, inviting and happy.  All family members interacted and the conversations flowed.  They were interested in what I normally ate at home, if rice was a staple part of my diet and similar basic living experiences. I did not see a fridge and from the discussions around food and cooking I gathered that food purchasing and cooking was undertaken on a meal-by-meal basis.

Like many Australian homes the kids love computer games .  However, the whole family looked on and enjoyed the skill of the game.  Angel, a beautiful seven-year-old, loved colouring and her book from school depicted her artistic talents.  I was touched by the obvious love between the generations, no matter their ages.

Life is tough in the Philippines.  Often the working hours are long, up to nine hours a day and six days a week.  On average the take home pay is about P6,000 per month (that is with a university degree), which equates to less than A$3,000 per year.  Sure the cost of living is less, but try buying a car ,or an iPhone on that amount of income.  Forget overseas holidays, or weekends in the numerous resorts dotted around the islands.

My evening with this wonderful family was enjoyable, friendly and for me special.  They opened up their home, showed genuine friendship and made me feel welcome.  I thank them. On leaving, we walked back along the path and waited on the road for a pedal-trike to come past.  There were three of us.  Cathy, my colleague, Lorraine, her married sister and myself.  Lorraine is the mother of Angel and works night shift in an accounting call centre. We required two trikes and about five minutes later we met up at the main road and took a taxi back into the downtown area of Cebu city.  Lorraine had about twenty minutes before she had to be in the office so we ate a light meal in a local cafe/restaurant.  By the time my head hit the pillow, I was tired, it had been a long day, but complete with memorable experiences.

Cathy and her son Liam (4 years)

Cathy and her son Liam (4 years), Mactan Island, Cebu, July 2015.

Monday in Cebu

One of three campuses of the University of Cebu.

One of three campuses of the University of Cebu.

Well plans are just that, never locked in.  I had a day in the downtown area of Cebu and while I could write a few thousand words about this vibrant and interesting place however,  I thought it best to restrict it to my University of Cebu visit.  Not all universities are the same, yet they have commonalities.  Follow this link and experience a little of my day here. (Posted Monday July 13, 2015)

The chalenges of Travelling

Do I qualify?

Do I qualify?

In a previous post I mentioned that the train from Sazlburg to Frankfurt was cancelled resulting in a round-about trip via Munich and Nuremburg.  Thankfully none of the flights were cancelled.  However, booking your bag from Frankfurt to Manila does give one a moment of worry – four airports and two different airlines.

The flight to Dubai was uneventful other than having a snotty little six-year old needing a good slap on the bum.  Yes I know, child assault, but parents either ignoring her bad behaviour or telling her she will be put in the naughty corner does not work.  I was about to speak to the parents when one of the flight crew politely asked them to manage their daughter.  Anyone would have thought that it was declaration of war the way they reacted until about five other passengers voiced their concerns pointedly and loudly.  The result – three very subdued people for the rest of the flight.  Plus they got some child rearing advice from a number of passengers as we were disembarking.

I prefer an aisle seat when flying and had that arranged online before I left Frankfurt.  But I got bumped.  Apparently a family of four – with two young kids – needed to sit together.  Okay I wasn’t complaining, but the only available seat was in the middle of one of the rows.  Ugg I hate that.  Then at the boarding gate I was asked to step aside.  The result, an upgrade to Business class.  For a night flight it is the only way to go.  For the seven hour flight to Singapore I slept for five hours.

The transfer at Changi airport was simple, but time-consuming however, I managed an aisle seat again for both legs of the Philippines flight.  This was a different experience though.  Philippines Airline is a no frills airline.  A coffee or cold drink if you ask for it, no inflight entertainment and noise, not the engines, but the passengers.  Ninty-nine point two seven five were Filipino (naturally) and they talked and talked and talked.  Even to me, as they wanted to practice their English.  It was an interesting flight.  It was bumpy and a number of times we had to buckle-up.  Coming into Manila airport, wheels down and locked, I estimate we were about a minute from touch down and then the approach was aborted.  I have never experienced this previously.  All conversations stopped and the silence was heavy.  Resigned to leaving my fate in the hands of the flight deck, the look of concern on the other passengers could have mirrored my own.  Then try number two.  Third time lucky I hoped.  Apparently there were severe wind sheers close to the ground causing some problems for the pilot.

Manila airport is busy and a little chaotic.  English is a third language here, so it took me a while to navigate my way through Passport Control, but being a ‘teacher/lecturer/academic is valued in the Philippines and helped the process.  Then to collect my one bag.  Other than a mild dispute with an American woman who mistook my bag for hers, (apparently it was my fault for having a bag like hers) the next chllenge was the transfer to the domestic flight to Cebu.  Twenty minutes later I was directed to the Gate for the final leg of this journey.  Mmmm wrong gate.  Total confusion.  The plane was at one gate and the passengers at another.  A thirty minute delay but we eventually got away.  The pilot must have stepped on the gas as the ninety minute flight took seventy.  Once again my bag and I were reunited.  It was nice to walk out of the airport and see a familiar face.

The taxi ride to the Henry Hotel was an eyeopener.  The roads were not crowded, they were packed.  Complex road junctions didn’t have traffic lights, but it all seemed to move in some order.  Road works, two lanes merged into one, motorbikes meandering between slow moving vehicles, horns blaring and the ‘trikes’ and hop-on hop-off vans stopped where-ever to collect or disgorge passengers.  Three or four on a motorbike, people hanging off the backs of the vans, the heat and the noise.  What a vibrant, rich and constantly moving morass of vehicles, people and images.  The twenty-five minute taxi ride cost P175, sounds a lot, but it works out to A$6.25.

I think that some of the constant complainers and whinging ‘Advertiser, Letters to the Editor‘ writers in Adelaide need to get out a bit more often. Life in Australia is not all that bad.

This is a rather long Post, my apologies for that, but the process of travel has been interesting, enjoyable, frustrating, and educational.

The Henry Hotel here in Cebu is an experience to enjoy.  I will cover it with some photographs of this quirky and different hotel.  It is Sunday and I’m invited to a colleague’s son’s fourth birthday celebrations.  I anticipated this and have a ‘Blinky Bill’ DVD for him.  Apparently he loves animals, animated and real.  I wonder how the cross cultural understandings will work out?