Final part 13 ending with notes

Poles Apart Part 13
by Patrick Duffey Final stories of I left my heart in the Philipplines




Back in United States I have given my lawyer everything I can excluding my blood, although he has taken most of my money and I will keep my word to do everything to bring my wife over here. My wife is told me that we will be having a girl, so we pick a name of Jessica Marrishal for her. I do not disbelief her, everybody over there that has rubbed her stomach has said so! We did not want an ultrasound so… time to back up again and I’m back home with the family. I am there for two months during the pregnancy helping out. One morning before I awake, Marivic had gotten up and knew something was different. 15 minutes of labor warning and she was soon to give birth. We had no time to drive to the city so there it was to happen. Neighbors went and got Mom and Dad from their house close by. I got into my Jeep and Dad and I went to look for a doctor, what we found was a “helot” like a witch doctor some might say. Within 45 minutes we had a baby being born on our bed. The delivery was done of course by Marivic, help of what we could do was with Nanny, her sister and I are the ones to do the work, not the “Witch Doctor.”

We did it, and into the jeep with my wife, new child and Mom. Who is this new entity in this world riding with us? I finally get to the hospital and the nurse asks me what my son’s name is, not prepared at all am I? I named him after my father and also kept the wife’s family name in there as well. I get to spend another two months with my newborn son and his mother. My wife gets yelled at quite often by people when they see me hanging or folding laundry, shopping, cleaning…….ect. They say that she is lazy and taking advantage of me, she explains to them that I want to do this, and that I have no maids in the United States back home.

This is the most fascinating adventure and journey I think I’ve ever had, and I’ve had some interesting ones before! Before too long it all ends and once again I go back to San Francisco. My lawyer now tells me that my son is automatically a United States citizen but of course I pay here then I pay there and of corse,,, the lawyer needs to be paid more, more, more. Somehow, I think my lawyer knows exactly how much money I have in my banking accounts, down to the last penny everything is delayed until it is emptied. It is another 10 months until I see my son for his 1st birthday. Arriving at their house he is not too excited about my big nose and blue eyes. There’s no one in the family that looks this way but me and he screams murder. It takes about a week for him to adjust to me. I bring out my Santa Claus costume at Christmas and give presents to the family. We get to play hide & seek into all the other wonderful things children enroll you into.

While I was back in San Francisco the money I was sending to my wife was secretly being put into a house she designed and had built. When I arrived, it had not yet been completed fully. With the help of my brothers and friends we took some of MacArthur’s concrete along with fairly large rocks from the mountain plus large clam shells and built ourselves a bathroom. Diagonal white tiled floor, ship hatch doorway leading into it, corrugated fiberglass roof that I immediately put holes into so when it rained it would water the perimeter wall. Jojo, (my brother) and I searched the mountains and forest for orchids and parasitic fauna. These were attached to the walls and propagated quickly. It is somewhat like being in the jungle sitting on the toilet.

After I returned back to the U.S. my wife and son, James Patrick Mendiola Duffey finally arrived the three months later on the date that Bush declared war on Iraq. They made the last plane out before Ninoy Aquino Airport was shut down. Blessed I am to have them with me. At the moment we are still in the Bay Area and now have John Michael Mendiola as our new addition. She has traveled back home with the two boys while I attend to business there with the passing of Leo, her brother. A few years prior I was told he wandered from the house to die because he had appendicits and they would not want to ask me for money. I got that 1,000 to them that day ~ really, what is the price one's willing to pay for helping?

Heartbreaking as it is, now 7 plus years since I have been home. I am homesick in the deepest sense. I truthfully do not enjoy it here in America; the people are not nice as in the province. My wife now agrees and understands why I love it there. The money is here though, It’s expensive here and there is very little if any time for relaxing-----just keep working to keep yourself from slipping overboard and under.

* It being now January 27th 2012 (2 days now before James Patrick turns the BIG 10 yrs old) We have airline tickets sending Myself, James and John -now 5 3/4's back home to live for at least a year and I shall start building a compound on 1,000 sg. meters. Waterfall shower, smimming pool with swim into the house bar, ballroom out the back yard near the living waterfall/pool ...........you hopefuly get the idea? Might even write again for LIP????

---------- Journalists’ note to readers; ---------

The stories I have written about my observations in the Philippines comes from the utmost respect for the people and the way of life there. The way the Pinoy can adapt to the hardest of conditions thrust upon them and still be humble, very proud people. I have written without prejudice to these newspapers and magazines without charging one peso, I did get cut off at the knees for my political views of “Erap” with his corruption. I did this not to get anyone angry. I did it so the people whom have forgotten how incredibly beautiful is there or maybe the ones who were not born there and not traveled there yet can get a glimpse through these balikbayan’s blue eye’s. I am not here to make political judgments or interfere with anyone else’s business. I went to the Philippines for the intentions of songwriting. I have been with such bands as Santana, Pablo Cruise, The Tubes, Joe Satrani, Martha Davis and Pink Floyd. Don't know who they are? Try U-TUBE. I have toured and visited many places but never enough time to relax to get the feel, so simple songs in paradise should be trouble. The songs I intended to compose instead became my lonely planet journal. My heart got infected, and I wanted to give back some of this hospitality given to me by the worlds connoisseurs. I am proud and privileged to have some sight, if only brief to what many foreigners will never see or feel. I hope that you have enjoyed the stories as much as I have writing them. God Bless to all.
Thank you, Patrick










Thank you, Patrick Duffey



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Part 12

Mental Floss by Patrick Duffey
I returned to San Francisco after leaving my fiancé in the Philippines just to find myself getting on the airplane again. I cannot eat or sleep or function correctly because of my constant thoughts of Marivic. My lawyer says the fastest way to get her here is to marry her there, I would later find out what a mistake this was! WOW, I am going to get married for the first time in my life and I do not have cold feet. We prepare for the wedding to be outside on the beach at a resort in Leyte. I have prepared for the deconstruction of my beach house in Dolores; I do not belong there anymore. I love my new family so much and I often thinking about them as much as my new wife to be. I will settle on this new island.

On the afternoon of our wedding all the foods that have been prepared arrive. So many familiar faces and then some I don’t recognize, but there’s so many people I will never know whether they are friends, neighbors or party crashers. We eat, dance and drink into the late afternoon waiting for the mayor. But he never shows up to marry us because he is on the other side of the island drinking with his friends because he lost to the election. Well, that went smooth! We have our wedding paper documents sent by courier to the mayor to have him sign the paper. Later in the week, we attended City Hall and get the approval stamps on our documents.

My wife and I honeymoon on the beach for a week getting to know one another and one’s habits. I have a place picked out a place to see how rough she can take it; just like backpacking I’ve had the pleasure of girls saying they needed their hair dryer. There’s no conflict or changes to one another, just nice and easy and smooth. No eggshells to avoid stepping on. After our honeymoon we then make our way to Manila on a nice stateroom on a ship that will take four days to arrive. I love watching all the islands and especially at sunset while dinning with her. Arriving in Manila we make our way to the embassy and other official destinations to complete the necessary paperwork. We leave early in the morning before Sunrise to get inline but I think people have lived in these lines for some time, maybe days. It winds around corners and other buildings in the hot sun and when your calls for it to be your turn someone closes the window or you find out you’re in the wrong line. For many days we do this of unrelenting confusion to different parts of the city being bounced around.

I am in different parts of the city I do not know nor does Marivic. We change different apartments to meet our goals, one night we got so tired that we just gave out and gave up going any further. We got a hotel room, didn’t look like the best but it didn’t look like the worst and besides, our taxi took off. We have dubbed this the Motel from Hell. We got inside to relax and found out the door locks did not even work. We could get into trouble very easily here, I didn’t see any cockroaches here but somehow I don’t think it was up to their standards. One way or another we are going to rest for the evening, so I make a barricade at the door. But still our mission is to get things done in get through to the next day.

I found a nice way to get "things" done is to walk into a place that says "no acess" and tell them I am lost and need help in direction. Magicaly~~ someone gets the paperwork filled out! I love the hospitality here!

I believe that I have done everything that my terrorist lawyer back in California has asked me to do. So I will have to say goodbye to my new wife, (again) to get this paperwork to him so he can sort it out and start charging me more for the processes of bringing my expecting wife to the United States.











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part 11

Learning To Fly by Patrick Duffey


Leaving Samar for Tacloban, Leyte, Tony, Lochie and I buy the tickets for the ship, I see somebody walk in the doorway and enter. She walks straight ahead to Lochie and they talk, I am then introduced by Lochie as one of her girlfriends, Marivic Mendiola. I somehow knew when her first saw her that she was different, and indeed that she is. At 27 years old she never been married either, like to me she’s been deceived and had her heart crushed twice. Very lovely, intelligent, sweet and funny. She is a high school teacher and an accountant. And what beautiful eyes! I invite her to come with us but she is working and cannot leave.

The three of us leave Tacloban on a bus toward the other side of the island of Ormoc, West Leyte, where we will depart from. We travel over the mountains and hair-pin corners past great fields of sugar cane. Lochie books us on a ferry liner that takes six hours to cross the ocean. I am amazed to find that the state room is bigger my apartment in Makati, Manila. It has a nice deck outside where we share our drinks as we depart into the darkness. I can't somehow get Lochie's friend Marivic out of my mind. I borrow the cell phone and text if she will be my lady and she replies YES! News comes sparsely to us that the prosecuting senators have left the impeachment trial in disgust and there’s no clear direction on what will happen next. The peso climbs to 55.

Saturday morning we arrived in Cebu and checked into the Center Point Hotel. Preparations are underway in the streets for Sinalog tomorrow morning. We roam the streets of the town and rediscover Magellan’s cross of 1621. We attend mass at Santo Nino Church where the original black Santo Nino doll is enshrined. Vice President Gloria Arroyo demands to President Estrada that he vacate the presidential house and with that he resigns by noon that day. He does in fact leave and by 4 p.m., vice president Arroyo steps and as the new president of the Philippines. Five hours later, her old Harvard school mate George Bush takes his oath in Washington D.C. The peso stabilizes at 47 with new hopes of a better future; back in America I’m not so sure.

Sunday morning we leave our baggage with one of Lochie’s friends near the Super Cat Terminal at the pier. Sinalog is underway as we watch from near the beginning instead of the grandstand that has been offered to us because for lack of taxis upon our escape later after the festival. Hospitality never seems to end as I am given press credentials along with Tony to take photographs and video along with ABS/CBN at my side. Through the dancers I squirm is not to interrupt or bump anyone. On the return trip this time we take the Super Cat Hydro foil which only takes two hours.

Back in Tacloban, Leyte, one evening while waiting for Marivic and Lochie, a foreigner passed by the balcony outside my room. Tony and I were finalizing the blueprints for my beach house. I greeted him and unlike most replied in a unfamiliar way. Derek has the “bug”, he is just as excited as I am to be here in shares the same views of this incredible place and the passionate people here. Visiting for the first time only in September of last year he has returned. Derrick has given up his Canadian citizenship and now lives here with his new wife. I may entertain him as a new business partner in the resort at the beach in Dolores along with the reviving the old airport where not too long ago C-130s with land for the military. Only time will tell.

Marie Victoria (Marivic) and I have been on a few dates and have walked and talked to the morning. The courting was brief but she melted my heart before she she even spoke to me at the fery terminal when we first meet. The other evening I asked for her hand in marriage in a dimly lit romantic restaurant and she said yes to me. Funny, you can know someone all your life and not know them, while others feel like you’ve known them for dozens of years. I strongly feel that we’re soul mates. Over the years people have tried to introduce me to someone and I have been asked a few times to marry. But no one had really captured my heart in this way. I waited for years for someone just like her to make my heart beat wildly again. I give her the option of rethinking my proposal to where she could find someone younger, more handsome and with more money. She tells me that as long as we have a grain of rice that she would never complain. Ok, let’s go! My “group” and I traveled to her parents’ home in Tananuan to meet her family. There is a long stretch of sidewalk at their front door from 1944 when Mc Arthur’s GIs built a kitchen for the soldiers. It looks like it was just poured.

Although I am nervous, they make me comfortable and relaxed. The Secretary of Lochie will step in and take “Nanny’s” place because she is not yet available. Later I will find that because I found someone not being from their place, they were NOT happy with me. I have brought ample food and drink. They are having a good time with their karaoke. The aunties, uncles, cousins, brothers and sister are all jolly but still curious. The brother stays in the darkness to observe me secretly. I explain my intentions for their daughter and am accepted within a short time as a new family member. Her mother cries and laughs and her father beams a smile at me. Thoughts of growing old and gray, we will life between the San Francisco Bay Area and our house in the Philippines. Hopefully, later to reside forever in the Philippines and raise our 2.5 children together. Now I’ve really left my heart in the Philippines.




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Part 10

Out Of The Blue Part 10 by Patrick Duffey

After about a week in Tacloban, Leyte, I go back to Dolores, Samar where I find my beach house needs only minor touches. Saturday morning we buy plenty of food and drink for family and friends for the blessing of my house. The vice Mayor Capon of Dolores arrives and greets the guests as we await the Monsignor Hobson’s blessing. After a while he arrives fully dressed in his priesthood attire. We’re giving candles as he reads from the book. We walk the perimeter of my house as he doses holy water on it.

The nipa open cottage was built in one day so that the VIPs would have a place to sit out of the sun into place their food. There’s so much food we have no other choice but to use the cottage for an additional table. We have to move out in the sun with our tables and chairs, and yes~coconuts - and we move many times in corresponding to the shade of the Coconut trees. All are happy and full as we continue into the night time. There are military and police walking the area of land for security. I spend my first night watching the full moon arise from behind the islands as my bodyguards watch over me. Midnights swim in the warm waters with a friend and then sleep like I haven’t in so many years. I awakened time to witness the Sunrise peaking up at the edge of the ocean. There was a message sent to the Nanay last night in the way of a warning to my safety, I believe that this is what is just called drama. But because of this out when not be able to stay at night alone.

Due to the storms that have approached, the Santo Nino celebration has been canceled at the beach. I have made up the banners stretching across the streets for a “on the spot beauty contest” of course, band-aids are optional. Therefore I will go back to Leyte and take the ferry ship to Cebu to observe the Sinalog festival. Before leaving Dolores, I attended mass one more time and then watch some more news of the never-ending impeachment trials. With the last month and a half I have come to understand that Estrada has had nine mistress’s and stolen billions of pesos, lined the pockets of his trial senators, ect………… that's business I suppose.

He that ran on the ticket as the poor People’s choice has even dipped into their pockets and collapsed the economy along with their hopes and dreams. Still strong with the old-fashioned values, Filipinos are now more educated and smarter to what right and wrong in their world. Not too long ago the status quo was accepted to where the rich got richer in the poor just accepted it. Now it’s time for the People’s Power 2, #1 as was with Marco’s regime being ousted. I truly believe that these dates important to release the friction in way of freedom in speech and protest. And as much as I wish to witness a rally in EDSA where I saw him speak my companions requested that I did not. History is on its way!




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PART 9

On The Run Part 9 by Patrick Duffey

I have spent my days basking on the beach walking through plansconstruction of my simple house being built. Even though I have many years of experience in construction it has little or no business to do here. To be truthful, nor does anything else in the ways that thing are done back in the U.S. In between the storms and with the weather permitting I visit the chain of islands that I looked upon from my house for a few days. Unknowingly, I have been adopted by the teacher from Hilibian that I met last year on the island close by. Charming and fun, along with her abundance of questions – we are both teacher and student alike. New Years Eve gives me the chance to dance once again the "carasha" with her.

One of my good compradres from San Francisco now lives here upon this island. Paul is Filipino but has lived for years in San Francisco. He has recently built a nice house down at the edge of town on the beach. He shares the same overwhelming excitement that I have here in knows how incredibly special the place called paradise is. Not at the ends of the earth, but instead the beginning. Some say that I am doing the “ survivor” thing that’s popular on TV. I’ve been doing this years before the show started and I just don’t survive, I’m ALIVE! I’m breathing in and out and living. It’s funny what becomes important when you have only the basics.

Time has come once again to head that the nearest ATM, nearly four hours south to Tacloban, Leyte. Much smaller than Manila and much larger than Bornongan, Samar. It is a nice city, clean and friendly. In Manila, there has been no garbage pickup for about a month or so. The trash was transported by ship to Palawalan of all places. It being one of the last sea turtle habitats anywhere, untouched natural waters filled with marine life. The people stopped it from being dumped and someone’s pockets went to unfilled as well.

Tony has accompanied here and he has introduced me to his old high school classmate and girlfriend. Lochie is a social worker for abandoned children and needless to say, quite kind and beautiful. To theirs is a story of untold passion lost when Tony had relations with another woman, now his wife. He was told by Lochie to do the right thing and she sent him away. Lochie and Tony throughout the years have stayed the closest of friends, but only as friends past the heartache of losing a what they thought certain that should have been their’s. It’s nice to see that some people can still be friends.

Plans are arranged through the department of tourism and permission is granted to visit Solholtan Natural Caves. Recently opened to foreigners to experience, this was reserved only for the important few. By car we travel for only one hour, we then pick up a pump boat and a guide. We travel up the windings rivers in the deep forests through the barrios dotted along the banks. Towering cliffs overhead with roots from trees finding their way to the water amongst the ferns and brightly colored orchids.

After two hours by boat we arrive at the caves where Jun Jun, our guide leads us along the cliffs with the rapids below us on a walkway made of bamboo and lumber connected to any rock or tree strong enough. He asks the spirits of the cave for approval of my camera and video equipment. Most times he tells of others equipment unexplainably stop functioning all together completely. I later find out how fortunate that I am once the photographs are developed. In one of the photos there is a white stream of fog against the inside of the rocks inside the cave. There is absolutely no eating, drinking or smoking permitted anywhere in the caverns and it is not from the Coleman lanterns. It is up to you what you wish to believe. The Photoshop also said it is the first time they have every seen such clear photographs developed.










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Part 7 I left my heart in the Philippines

May the road rise to meet you

By Patrick Duffey

Three days have passed since arriving here in the Philippines and I have had maybe 10 hours asleep. From a hotel room high in Makati, I can view a clear and rare scenic skyline of what looks similar to dozens of downtown San Francisco’s.

Being able to let loose and relax are what brings me back to the Philippines for two months every year. It’s about the freedom to of being able to let loose and color outside the lines. Back in United States, any attempt of doing this is big trouble. But here in the Philippines, there’s unrestricted freedom as long as no embarrassment or harm comes from your actions.

Here there is pride, values and something called self shame that lacks in some other countries such as the U.S. And there’s the hospitality Filipinos are known for, accompanied with the smiles that truly show the beauty of the people here.

When I left the United States, which I easily referred to as “the comic section in the Sunday paper,” there was still no president. Days later, I found out that George W. Bush had won the election stolen from Al Gore. While other eyes were on the United States, mine were set on the impeachment trial of (former) President Joseph Estrada.

With rumors of a possible military coup, synchronized demonstrations led by vice President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, past President Cory Aquino and also past President Fidel Ramos filled the streets of Manila asking their compatriots to exhibit their strength in keeping democracy alive.

While poverty is the fact of life for many, change is imperative. Always in the back of my mind I know the economy is terrible and rough. Foreign investors pulling out left and right to leaving cities of skyscrapers abandoned and the peso souring at 52. However, it seems as though that everyone has the purpose here, even the poorest will find something to do for a peso or two instead of lying around.

I’ve traveled throughout Luzon by myself without any companions, sometimes friends hitch a free ride with me when they hear I’m traveling to different islands. This time of my friends, Franco, who has come to the islands in the past with me shall shall not join me. He is the main bodyguard of the mayor of Caloocan, Manila. Although he will not be able to join me this time because it is Christmas, nor will my driver Noling. Still we managed to get together and spend the afternoon till next day catching up. Of course it is necessary to drink because he does not speak English and my tongue is twisted when it comes to Wari-Wari.

I have tried to meet up with Richard in January from back in San Francisco a few months before my trip to the Philippines, but it is useless. Is now time to head south for my main purpose of why I came here in December. My usual route from Metro Manila toward Samar is by bus. Its journey of 20 plus hours winding through forest in small towns I’m able to meet many different people and see the way of life close-up. Instead of a boat or train, I decided to fly this time because I was running out of time and having way too much fun.

I took a small plane (Cebu-Pacific)out of the airport near Ninoy-Aquino Airport. Aloft for about 15 minutes, we were flying past Mayon volcano, perfect cone shaped standing high into the clouds with a small amount of smoke coming from its top. I can view the hundreds of islands in the emerald pristine waters from within my window seat.

I landed in Tacloban, Leyte the next island south of Samar. We did some airobatics trying to pinpoint our landing area then finaly on an extremely small runway we stopped. Within the couple of hundred yards we land and we do a u-turn and return towards a small building that they call an airport. We walked from the plane outside to where the baggage is being drawn by hand and carts to where is placed on the table inside. Just grab we think it’s yours, because there’s nobody checking tags here! Attempting to find transportation I was informed that there were no more buses going to where I needed. So,,, I had no other choice in the matter into rent a driver with his car for an afternoon drive in the country.

Once out of the airport my driver told me that in fact there were still buses available. Heeding me to do this but with such honesty and possibly losing his fair, I wanted to keep him even more so. We talked continually along the way about what I observed in my visits is a foreigner and a travel writer. We both have thoughts and ideas, which we shared and the conversation was stimulating to say the least.

Nole has somewhat of a twisted sense of humor just like me as I find out as we added points for dodging chickens and dogs that insist on lying in the roadway. He was as happy that I was there as I was for having him as my driver for the five hour ride. We drove heading north up the coast and overdue sheer cliffs of mountains with waterfalls through a virgin rain forest. Though I did not see any virgins.

Near the end half-way Nole allowed me to take the drivers seat on the road. I refused to the opportunity to drive in Manila- that’s for the seasoned professionals. But here as I drive into what should be familiar, it is dark and my sense of direction is quite awkward, and I realize that everything is different now. Last year oil lamps lit the houses and sari-sari stores now have given way to intrusive fluorescent lights. I can somehow smell the innocence slip away.

This throws me off guard so much I drive right into the next town. I managed a u-turn and headed back only to get lost within this small town. Embarrassed in front of Nole my friend, I ask directions to Boyting’s house. As chance would have it, a long-lost friend from years ago hopped in only to take us about one in half blocks. Now, I really am embarrassed for certain!

My face hurts so much from laughing and smiling as I am home again finally. I feel like a teenager whenever I’m here, alive again. Damn good to be back! I feel honored to have Nole as my new friend.












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part 6 I left my heart in the Phillipines

C’est La Vie Part 6 by Patrick Duffey

The next day I rent a boat to take me back to Hilabaan and Butna for a few days. The people are curious about my returning so soon and why I love it so much on their island. It is somewhat difficult to explain to those who had never yet seen the big city with its big city problems, crime and smog. A place where people do not know their neighbors and have little time for “hellos.” These people here live in a world of that only God can create and which Hollywood can only imagine with thier cinamatic special effects.

In the evening I walk across the islands with Melvin and Noling to observe that Mr. Math and Miss Science talent contest at the town Plaza. The people take it upon themselves to do some creative fund-raising for the school here.. They vote for friends and relatives with their meager earnings so they can become King and Queen of that subject for the semester. Trust me; the winners don’t have to show any talent in the subject matter that they’ve been declared royalty of.

I dance the “curacha” and with the high school teacher that I met to in Tikling. People throw some money toward us throughout our dacing. (wonder if I could earn a wage here?) It is enchanted evening with everyone in the village having fun at the festivities. A giant moth with a wing span as wide as my hand dances under the bright lights in the Plaza. Exhausted, it lands on the floor. A boy with his dance partner does not wish to share the dance floor and he crosses deliberately to place his shoe upon the moth- SPLAT! I leave in disgust.

On my last day on the island, I rent a pump boat to explore remote islands and atolls, some of which the locals have not even been to. Back in United States I’ve heard of the remains of native Filipinos 10 feet tall, but it seems nobody here has any knowledge or wants to speak of this. I was told this by a friend who explored the Philippine Islands and took pictures for Time and Life magazines.

At dinner one night, Rebecca tells me of this cave on Santa Monica Island and early in the morning we set out to where the bones of these giants may be found. My whole reason to find these items is to preserve the treasure in a museum but a good probability is that someone has smashed the like a moth. We find ourselves in a squall as we head back toward mushroom shaped islands.

Carved out by the seas furry these pedestals rise to tall at low tide. Some have trees and plants growing on them. There are many deep water pools - 20 feet across and 15 feet deep – safely far enough away from the break waters where once again I can swim.

Later we walked towards town and have lunch at the house of Rebecca’s cousin where I hear that the barangay chief had sold the remains to an American probably for a few dollars. I am terribly disappointed that I am too late to preserve this important piece of history. It is now time to go back to Manila why must complete business there and also in the United States.

Life interferes with those who make daily plans, and this is true in my life. Before leaving Samar and after saying my goodbye’s to everyone. Rebecca tells me that there might be a chance for us meeting up in Makati when she travels there on business in a few days.

In Manila, I get a message from Rebecca regarding dinner plans. The taxi driver that I take seems to want have fun with me by driving around in circles and in the wrong area as well. I know my way around well enough Makati and areas of Metro and have him pull for so I can literally jump out and get an honest one. But not before I’m shortchanged a few hundred pesos because of my haste – c’est la vie!

I get to the restaurant to join Rebecca and her nephew, Bismark along with her niece, Sugar. Indeed, I have always had a sweet tooth! As we eat our dinner we are entertained with the ethnic dances of different cultures from the islands. The body language reminds me of the romantic dances when I lived in Hawaii.

Of course, the waiter insists on me joining the others onstage. I politely refuse, Sugar however takes the challenge. She’s had plenty of practice ever since she was small and performs the ”tinikling” with bamboo sticks cris-crossed moving at her feet, GOTTA move fast! She does this flawlessly in my eyes. I think that maybe she should admit to her calling, she is excellent. And once again the evening and is all too soon.

A day of work, a day of play, I do enjoy the schedule around here. What would usually take me only a few hours back in the states takes me all-day or sometimes even longer to achieve around here, so I pace myself accordingly. I observed on my last visit that the Manila City Hall has two different times upon its clocks tower. Depending on where you are, one clock says 12:00 any other one would tell you its 1:30, your choice, A.M. or P.M.~~~~ Filipino time.

To start of the monsoon season came about two months ago in September when I first arrived. Occasionally in Samar there would be brief downpours and people would try to have me take shelter under an umbrella, but I enjoy the rain. Back here in Manila, there are much stronger storms. The thunder is like nothing I’ve ever heard except for when I lived in the Arizona desert. It shakes my hotel room in cracks my eardrums. A typhoon warning signal number 2 is given to Manila, while Samar is given number 4, signal 5 is the strongest.

The bureau upgrades Lling to a super-typhoon status as it hits central Manila with unforgiving fury. Dark clouds consume the daylight; rain comes in horizontally as the trees bend into the wind with gusts up towards 300 kilometers an hour. The hardest hit places are Isabella and in northern Luzon.

Towns and people are swept away in walls of mud and debris. Another storm sits right off the coast of Samar. Most of the typhoons brew off the coast of Dolores and Broongan, within its pathway. Loling hits my hometown with signal No. 3.

After the storm I visit Noling, my driver, at his mother’s houses in Damarinas, Cavite. This is a relocation area from Tondo of where these people once lived at Manila’s waterfront. The government took the land from them and moved them about 40 miles away and gave them a small amount to build their lives. Because of the typhoons all the lines are down too the banks and any other connections to the United States have been cut. I have a few hundred pesos and therefore have to last me for more than a week. I’m taking well care of but these are not rich people, so I try not to impose myself upon these good people.

I have my basics of rice, fish and mineral water and that’s about all. I have lived it like a King with a charmed life that most people can only dream about having. Now ~ I will live like everyone else, I don’t dare to complain or cry here! I believe that it is wise to experience various seasons, to see the good and bad aspects when entertaining the idea of being somewhere for a spell. Last time it was hot and dry with little or no rain, this time is the opposite.

Last time I was lucky I guess without any incidents, this time I’ve witnessed deception and have been robbed gently a couple of times when I was not careful. Every paradise has a price to pay in some way or form. The Philippines is not unlike any other place with this world or even in the U.S. No place is perfect and one must be aware of their surroundings and choose the type of people they wished to spend their time.

I suppose what brings me back are the people, most are kind in genuine. I believe that no one else can match the hospitality of the Filipino. To be totally truthful, what I particularly appreciate is a natural elegance and charm of this sea-shelled eye’s of the Filipina.

White sandy beaches and pristine crystal waters. The scenic coves and hidden islets with its diversity of marine life. Hidden treasures that await the eye at almost every turn to corner. Sometimes I am interrupted by the passing of the land crab with a seashell upon its back as I sip on a cold one while the gentle warm waves lap my feet. I sometimes feel as though I’m in one of those commercials telling me “change your latitude.”

I see an airplane above and I know that my time becoming soon to go back to Hong Kong before arriving back in San Francisco to return to the usual routine and left once again to my fond memories only.







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Part 5, I left my heart in the Philippines

Life stranger than fiction
 

BY PATRICK DUFFEY


Finally once again I am back in Dolores, Eastern Samar. With all the traveling, the humidity and the heat, I rest whenever possible. Yes, it's good to be back home again. In the morning I visit friends and make appointments with others whom are too busy. My friends and I catch up on many things such as family business and my plans on building my house on the beach.

The housemaid I met last time now has new employers she introduces me to. They are a local girl named Rebeca and a gentleman named Horst from Germany who met, fell in love, and got married. They started a copra business and live in a nice house in town. They are planning to buy a small island next to Butna, the islands that I look out to from the beach where I am planning on building my house. They wish to entertain me for lunch and dinner. We have stimulating conversations; the information on how things are done around here is quite valuable. On a early Sunday morning, we meet up again and drive a short distance from Dolores to Hapitan where they have a couple of pump boats standing by. Across the ocean is their island along with others I loved visiting when I was here last time. we travel to the furthest end of the islands called Tikling where I wanted to go before but never got the chance.

We pulled up on the beach where a good sized boat is anchored with a lot of activity around it. People are capturing exotic fish of every shape, size and color. There is no exception; all are caught with no care of possibility of extinction. A lionfish such as the ones that are being caught here will easily fetch $ 50 to 60 dollars back in the stores in San Francisco. These local workers are only paid a few peenies (really!)per fish depending on what is caught.

They sometimes will use explosives or cyanide on the coral reefs to stun the fish so they can catch them easier. They destroy what has taken nature thousands of years to produce just for the moment of gain. What they cannot eat or is too expensive they will put in a plastic bag and fill it full of carbon dioxide ready for transport.

I take a swim across the lagoon almost 500 yards in the warm water and meet a high school teacher and her class on the beach, school was never like this! It is time to leave here where I have made my journey to the furthest side of the island chain past Hilabaan where Horst and Rebecca's island is. I have been to this island before and imagined living on it. How strange that they are buying it and putting a house on it for their weekend getaway.

At their island I take my diving gear along with my underwater camera that I bought in Manila. As I go underwater, a kaleidoscope of amazing colors unfolds before me---- multi-colored brittle stars, the bright colored corals, octopus and ells. The clownfish and yellow-fin tuna swim past me. Time to come up above to the boat and we sing and laugh returning to Hapitan---- this is what life is suppose to be.



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part 4

I left my heart in the Philippines by Patrick Duffey

Part 4: Home is where the Heart is

A noise awakens me from a deep sleep. As I look out my plane window I see a castle perched high on a mountain top. Floating past it like a bird, I realize I am in Taipei, China. Just 12 hours ago I was frantic at SFO with what I thought might have been trouble with my “balikbayan” boxes. My apprehension was quickly put to rest by Sherry at the China Airlines ticket counter.
I am 40 plus kilos over my allotted weight and have three boxes extra as well. Usually I would be charged substantially for this, but she knows what I am bringing to the poor. God bless for miracles and for people like Sherry. In a few hours I will board my plane to finally take me to Manila. Since the six months I have been in the States I have found myself often in a dream-like state. I keep thinking of the house I am going to build in the Philippines, on the beach, under the coconut trees, looking over the magnificent Pacific Ocean. It is much grander than what I had first planned; I will be building extra rooms for when Benjie, Jennifer, and the kids visit on vacation. Yes it’s time to come home.
Before going to the Philippines, I had thought of settling in Baja, Big Sur, Mexico. Within five years of searching, I have found what I thought to be as close to Shangri-La as possible. It only took less than two months and half a world away to find my other home. Home is where the heart is and my heart is in the Philippines. To me it is compared to what some say is “true love”-you can’t find it, it has to find you. My life’s plans have once again dramatically changed, which is nothing new for my friends and for those who know me—they just smile and shake their heads. This time I will stay a couple of months again, with an agenda to prepare for a longer duration of a few years or more. My house in the United States has been sold, and ownership of my Hovercraft Company will be as well. Truthfully, business has not been all that good, I have a good amount of money and there is little use for my motor home anymore.
As I unpack at the hotel, I realize that I no longer have my cameras or lenses. A report is filed along with a reward, with China Airlines. Although dismayed, I know that there are more important things to worry about. One of the most important items on my list is to see the family that I saw the last time I was here; they were living outside the bus depot in Manila. That family has been in my thoughts and in my heart ever since meeting them. Noling, my driver, is unavailable, so his sister, Judy is my companion. When we arrive at the depot, we ask about them and their whereabouts. The mother is surprised to see me, and tells me that the small girl is finally back in school. The three of us get into a taxi back to my hotel, where I give the mother the clothes I had brought for them. We have lunch, sort through the clothes and I give the mother a small amount of money to get started in a cigarette-and-gun business. The money is not much, I can make this amount in a hour or two back in the states. A little from me, a lot for their existence.
On Saturday, I treat myself to a break a few hours drive south from Manila to Laguna Cavite where there are waterfalls and geothermal lakes. Far from the city noise and crowds, the countryside is peaceful. My guide for this excursion and new friend “Boy” is a homicide detective for the P.N.P. in Manila. When traffic seems not to be moving fast enough, he turns on his siren to get us through. What a combination, a crazy Irishman and a crazy cop!
I take a dip a nature’s hot springs and have a three hour massage by a professional masseuse. I almost feel guilty about feeling so good. Tuesday morning at the crack of dawn, I turn on the T.V. for something interesting, and interesting is what I got! The 49ers were playing the Redskins on Monday night football!!
Soon I will check out and visit Franco and Noling. Franco is the bodyguard of the mayor of Catbalogan, about 30 kilometers from Manila. Both of them will travel with me to Samar, the next island south of Luzon. With the start of the monsoon season, I am warned the seas are too rough for passage. I am somewhat disappointed that I cannot travel by boat this time.
On my last night before I leave for Samar, I take time to enjoy the nightlife in Makati, Manila. Only two weeks ago I confessed to my older brother Michael that somehow I still had a place for the Filipina that broke my heart 12 years ago. But my heart is alive and well, and I found it where it belongs, in the Philippines.




















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Part 3 I left my heart in the Philippines

I left my heart in the Philippines by Patrick Duffey

Living it down

Today I arrived at my Nanay’s house in Dolores, Eastern Samar. It being a Saturday, others have insisted on my joining them to go and the festivities at their town plaza square. It is also Valentine’s Day and my friends search for a “part-time” Valentine on this special night for me.
San Miguel is my choice of beverage throughout the evening as we walk; I am more comfortable this way although I am the mosquito’s choice of fresh blood. I wished I had brought a tennis racket or at least golf clubs. I meet new friends and feel transported back in time as if I were once again in high school.
Five thirty in the morning and I’m up. This is supposed to be a vacation, relaxing and unwinding in paradise, but I realize that there is a need to get things done around here before it gets too hot. I take my morning shower (that I will find out comes in handy three or four times a day). The “shower” is a large, plastic drum with water that has been drawn from a well and a bucket to bring the water over my head. I scream from the shock; it is cold! My apartelle at least had hot water. But as i soon get over from the shock, I am ready for the hot sun that dries me off almost instantly.
Someone tells me that we’re going to an island (hey this is an island!). We travel to Hilabaan, about 45 minutes by pump boat into the Pacific Ocean. It is what they call an outrigger with a 16hp engine. My thoughts of Gilligan’s Island come to mind as we head out to a speck on the ocean’s horizon. As I step onto the beach my feet hit something fairly sharp. There are seashells all over and it’s almost impossible to step without missing one because these things are moving small and large exotic shells housing hermit crabs scampering for safety.
Walking into town past huts hugging the beach, people come to greet me and I somehow think they have not yet before seen a white man with freckles and blue eyes. I make a joke that I am a Filipino American new breed. I am invited into someone’s house for lunch where I try a coconut wine called “tuba”. Let’s just say it’s an acquired taste. I am also given a sea turtle shell and other artifacts as gifts. Now me must return to Dolores before the waves get too big for this small boat, and I am treated to my first picture-postcard sunset.
I am getting used to getting in my car and just “doing it.” I am used to picking up the phone whenever I want talking as long as I want, sending a fax, getting e-mail, getting global news, getting paged. Here it seems time has slowed down. There are few television sets. The day’s are hot and dry, and the nights are sticky. I sleep under a mosquito net around my bed. This reminds me of when I was a small boy and I would watch my mother put a net around the food to keep the flies out.I wonder if the mosquito’s lick their chops on top of my net wishing they could get to their dessert. There is a nighttime serenade from gecko lizards looking for food.

Here the effect of El Nino is just the opposite. There is no rain except for the occasional seeding of clouds from the Air Force. The source of food is being depleted because of lack of water. The rice crops and carabaos that are used to plow the fields die as well.

I had planned on visiting other places such as the rice terraces of Sagada, do some diving in Cebu at Moalboal or Yopak in Boracay, but I seem content to stay in Samar. I have been back to Hilabaan, the small island, and have spent a few nights watching sunsets, gathering seashells and fishes as the natives do. At low tide, I can walk through the Philippine Ocean to a half dozen islands. One night I paid three pesos (about 8 U.S. cents) to see the movie “Titanic;” it obviously was recorded on someone’s video camera as the quality was poor and sometimes there are shadows of people walking in front of the movie screen. On my last night there, I wished my friends well and thanked them for their kind hospitality. Goodbyes come too early. At 4 a.m. we walk in the darkness (only lit by homemade oil lamp) across to the other side of the island on a trail through the jungle to meet our boat around 6 a.m. there are no private boats at this hour to hire.
Tomorrow I am leaving for Borongan; tonight I sample the night life of Dolores one last time with Franco, my bodyguard. He suggests that maybe if we drink more, the better he can speak English and I, Tagalog. But I sit this one out and watch others enjoy. The local police captain wants to meet me- the stranger that he has heard about, and pulls up a seat with his M-16. He says he can’t drink as he is on duty then he takes down a couple of shots of gin and lime juice.
It is now the first of March and we ride by jeepney to Borongan, about 65 miles south where I will spend my last night before having to leave Samar for Manila. When I was here a few weeks ago visiting, I saw my first American. A black modified VW pulls up and a rather large man extracts himself from it. He is Willie White, who lived in the San Francisco East Bay before settling down here after Vietnam. He is now a true Waray-Waray. He tells me of a Southern Californian surfer that now owns a resort here, and through the gates I arrive at Pirate’s cove but he is not there to see. A monkey climbs down from a tree to scrutinize and make some obscene gestures to me.

In the morning I find that Noling has booked me on the same bus that I had arrived on with the same driver because I had so much fun. I did not know this until boarding and they greeted me by name. They once again gave me my seat in the front and they started singing “Hey Jude” to me. Noling was only to be gone three or four days but has stayed the whole month. He accompanies me back to find out if he still has a job driving. In a few hours on the road riding on the bus a quite charming Filipina sits next to me. This is the first time she has met an American and for the rest of the trip we talk. She asks me about my culture and somewhat rather personal questions about myself. She is easy to talk with and confide in; share food and all too soon, this ride is over as her stop leaves her well before Manila. I exit the aircon bus to see Rowena, the mother and Winnie, the little girl I spoke of earlier that made tears come to my eyes.





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