VALENCIA, NEGROS ORIENTAL — I recognize that I speak quickly, and also have a distinct Irish accent. Nor do I speak any Filipino languages. Those factors certainly contribute to my seemingly-endless experience regarding miscommunication here.
But I suspect, even if I were fluent in every dialect, there is a distinct Filipino method of processing thoughts so different from mine, there would still be communication issues.
The following are recent examples which were confusing but also amusing.
Yesterday in a hotel restaurant in Cebu, I asked what actually is available, as opposed to what is listed on the menu. I did that because I usually have to ask for three items before getting one they can provide. “So is there anything not available that’s shown here on the menu?” That was met with a blank stare from the waiter who then said “Yes, you can order appetizers if you wish.” Then he disappeared and another waiter asked for my order.
The menu said Crispy Fried Chicken or Roasted Half Chicken. I asked for the half chicken order. “I repeat your order, sir, Crispy Fried Chicken.” Where did that come from?
“No, a roasted half chicken, please.” “Wait, sir, I need to check and see if it’s available.” I didn’t need to wait to hear the inevitable response.
Minutes later, I was at Jollibee asking for a leg of chicken and rice. The order taker said she has to check on its availability. I smiled and wondered if I was unwittingly part of some reality TV program, but no camera crews were evident. And yes, you guessed correctly regarding the non-availability of my order.
Last week I went into Robinsons in Dumaguete. “Hello, do you have a pharmacist here?
“Yes, sir.” Silence.
“Well could I please speak to her or him?
“Yes, sir”. More silence.
“Hopefully today?”
“She’s on break now, sir.”
“When will she be back?”
“When she returns, sir.”
“And when will that be?”
“After her break ends, sir.”
I walked away shaking my head, feeling the need for a glass or three of Irish whiskey.
Later that same day in a restaurant: “I’d like a vegetarian omelette, please, with rice.”
“OK, Sir, I repeat your order: Vegetable soup and side order of rice.”
What?!
I’m again in Robinsons Dumaguete. On the second floor near the fastfoods area is a travel agency I’ve not used before to book my flights. So I venture in, and yet another adventure unfolds. I see a sign in big bold letters proclaiming Assistance with Your Exit Visa. I eagerly ask for details.
“Oh, we don’t do that anymore, sir. You need to go to Cebu for that.”
“Then why is the sign up?”
Again, I’m met with a polite smile which apparently is the routine answer here to a question that has no rational answer.
I then ask to purchase a round trip Dumaguete-Cebu air ticket, and offer a credit card as payment.
“There’s a three percent charge for that, sir.”
“Why?”
“Because there is.”
I know enough rather than to question this; for me, it’s unusual business practice. “OK, please run my card”
“Sorry, sir, our system is down.”
“That’s OK. I‘ll go for a meal, and come back in an hour.”
“No, sir, come back some time tomorrow. They will fix it from Cebu.”
Wondering why she didn’t simply tell me right away I couldn’t pay by credit card, I walk over to my usual agent, and buy the ticket there.
I’m in a taxi from the Mactan airport to Cebu City. “How much to drive me to Balamban?”
“How about P5,000?” suggests the driver.
“How about I remind you Christmas is not until December?”
“How about P3,000?” he then suggests.
“How long will it take you to drive to Balamban from downtown Cebu?”
Pause…. “Two hours, sir.”
Actually, not. “It takes one hour,” I respond to him, since I’m familiar with the drive.
Pause…. then the inevitable, irrational comeback: “But I don’t take the main highway, I go another way.”
“So your way takes twice as long: two hours?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll be paying you less than P300 for you to drive me from the airport to downtown Cebu. It will take you an hour, yes? And to drive another hour, you want P3000 or 10 times that amount, yes?”
“Yes, sir.”
End of conversation.
I stayed that night at a resort in Balamban I’d been referred to. It offered “24-hour room service” but only “from 7 am to 9 pm”.
Next morning, my friend Vhie and I had breakfast. I asked for scrambled eggs and fresh-brewed coffee. What I got was a half cup of coffee that could have fueled a rocket ship to the moon, and no second cup was available. And the scrambled eggs turned out to be an omelette made with onions, ham, and tomatoes.
We moved to an upmarket resort near Toledo. The room was lovely, the resort well-maintained. We went to the restaurant where I asked for a cappuccino. “No cappuccino. Only from packet, sir”
“OK, I’ll also have a chicken sandwich. Breast, please.” This was met with blank looks. “Please give me breast of chicken in my sandwich.”
“Only chicken spread, sir.”
OK, so no food again.
“Mango shake, please”
“No shake; only mango juice in cans.”
“OK, mango, please.”
“No mango; only four seasons and pineapple.”
So is the purpose of this article to endlessly whine and complain? Not at all. It’s a recognition that this is the way life is in the Philippines.
Irrational chaos accepted as the norm is a daily fact of life. It has the capacity to render most Westerners speechless, babbling, frothing at the mouth, as the insanity of it all. And that’s an entirely understandable position.
I would argue that this dysfunction permeates in most, if not all, levels of Philippine society. To arrive at 10 am for a 9 am meeting is to be a half hour early.
And it doesn’t change when educated Filipinos emigrate. My dear friend Binky, a highly-respected professional in Sacramento, California, once invited a bunch of us for a midday Sunday picnic in the park. When 3 pm came, and still no sign of Binky, we began to realize it was a no-go. Next day, when asked what had happened, Binky didn’t bat an eyelid, even gave us the “Binky look” that suggested the person asking the question was the source of the problem.
A foreigner must accept this reality, or face, at a minimum, regular anger, or at worst, a complete nervous breakdown.
But if willing to tolerate if not accept it, this represents a wonderful opportunity to enjoy the many joys the Philippines offers the outsider.
For me, it also represents a unique opportunity to overcome one of my greatest character defects. And that’s impatience. I’m one of the most impatient individuals you could ever meet. It’s toxic. I pollute everybody with my attitude.
But living in the Philippines offers me a wonderful option to work on a daily, sometimes minute-by-minute basis, to overcome my impatience.
When the morning comes, and I wake up wanting, not needing, to embrace the opportunity to learn patience that living in the Philippines requires, I will rejoice in that moment, and be grateful for receiving yet another gift from living here.
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Author’s email: [email protected]