Back amid the dereliction of Talisay.

I had become acquainted with a street-food vending family down the street – the mother, the father, the two younger brothers and sister – then one day, I was introduced to the eldest daughter.

First impression, she was a goddess, but still young; maybe too young.

Turned out she was 20 making me, at 39, basically twice her age. While I was initially hesitant with the arrangement no one else appeared troubled by the age disparity and, intellectually, we connected immediately; she was brilliant – intelligent, wise, mature, funny – we chatted for six hours the first afternoon into evening, just talking, laughing, learning about each other.

Fair to say, by the end of that first day, I would have done anything for street-food daughter.

Every morning now, mid-November 2022, following breakfast at the 7/11 just down from my hotel, I would excitedly head further down the street and hang out at my street-food joint, waiting for the young Criminology student to make her appearance.

Two weeks later, ‘besotted’ is an understatement. My departure date is nearing and, well, I have spent enough time in this world to understand that one should never turn their back on an opportunity such as this; problem is, I already have employment lined up in Vietnam for 2023 but now, damn it, I want to be in Philippines – want to be with street-food daughter. Hm. Additionally problematic is the fact that I don’t like Philippines. I like one woman in Philippines but, as a country, I could very easily go the rest of my life without Philippines. So insanely captivated I am by this woman in Philippines, however, I presently find myself searching for jobs in Philippines; even applied for two of them – one at a Call Center and one at an English Academy I’d never heard of. (Compared with Vietnam, in the latter field, I was aware the pay was lower but, I didn’t care, I just wanted to be with street-food daughter.)

Next day, I receive an invitation for a job interview with Cebu International Academy (CIA); two days later, I had the job.

Caption: ‘Foolish White man, heart on his sleeve impetuously trying to make a life in Philippines, and the Dictators of Fate do appear to be on his side.’

The sceptic in me, though, the investigative journalist said it was too good; too easy.

Oddly, nobody at my street-food joint seemed terribly enthusiastic about my newest ‘act of commitment’; therefore, speaking about it with the object of my affections, street-food daughter, I was told, bizarrely, “My mother still doesn’t think you serious about me…”

Five Stages of Filipino Courtship – Attraction, Reality, Commitment, Intimacy, Engagement.

‘Attraction’ is obvious. ‘Reality’ is the act of processing your emotions to the extent of differentiating fantasy from reality; I felt I had achieved that. ‘Commitment’ is where I was lacking, apparently; here was me, making significant changes to my hitherto scrupulously planned life-plan yet, it was seemingly insufficient to prove to the mother that I was ‘committed’ to her daughter. Thus, I paid for a semester’s Criminology tuition (Philippines, money talks louder than anything). Still unsure though if my ‘commitment’ is being properly appreciated, and with my departure looming, I took control of the situation and bought an engagement ring; seemed to me, that was always the plan anyway, so why not do it now, as a further display of ‘commitment’?

Made sense at the time, anyway.

When I proposed, I made clear that I did not expect to be wedding her anytime soon, this was just to ‘solidify’ the relationship – now she knew I was coming back for her, hundred percent, and I knew that she would be waiting for me. She seemed overjoyed; we chatted about our future and set the date for May 2025.

‘Commitment’, done. ‘Intimacy’, missed but we could make up for that later, and now ‘Engagement’ also done, I thought. Nice one. ‘Nailed it’, I thought.

Early December, I returned to New Zealand for Christmas with my biological family.

Late December, having already organised accommodation for ‘my fiancé and me’ within walking distance of my place of employment in Mactan, I returned to Philippines.

Early January, I signed my contract with CIA and started work as a full-time ‘Native English, Main Teacher’.

Late January, street-food daughter moved into our house with me.

Her phone had broken, so I gave her some cash for a new one.

Then she was stressed because she didn’t have enough money to pay for the upcoming Criminology semester…

Apparently, the money I had paid was backpay which had covered the last semester, and now she needed more money to fund the coming semester. Controlling myself, I told her that she was full of shit, adding, “There is no university in the world that allows students to enrol for one semester on the proviso that they will pay their fees, like good little students, next semester.” That pissed me off. Later though, the story changed; now her mother had used 6,000 Pesos of the tuition fund to buy her brother a new phone, so now she just needed the cost of a new phone, again.

…I knew I was being lied to, and it crushed me like no other lie had. Street-food daughter, during November ’22, had shown me that she was an upstanding, honourable young woman; then during December ’22, something had changed, she had somehow become corrupted.

January ‘23, the woman I loved repulsed me. Compounding this, my engagement ring had mysteriously disappeared from her finger – “My mom pawned it to pay for something ‘cause she needed money real bad…” – once a woman I trusted wholeheartedly, someone for whom I would have done, would have given, anything and now, I didn’t believe a word she said.

Not all Filipino women, but most, many.

 

 

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Syd Story

Photography by Philip Pens

 

From my RedDoorz Hotel in Talisay, Cebu, I was hopeful in achieving some relaxation.

Alas, wherever I was, it seemed, rapacious women would find me; as time spent online was minimal, approaches in this regard wasn’t so much an issue – it was everywhere else – innocently chatting to a Filipino lady while waiting for the bus, or on the bus, or at the 7/11, at the traffic lights, waiting to cross the road, or just walking down the road; it usually would only take a moment before I detected dollar-signs in her eyes (different from a look of happiness or cheer; more sinister, calculating) coupled with an unusual amount of Filipino disingenuousness and ‘forwardness’.

To an untrained male observer, sure, this interaction between myself and a beautiful (chubby/fat) Filipino lady might seem innocuous, even alluring but, here’s the thing, this kind of feminine farce is far from an isolated incident and, while willing they may appear, willing they most certainly are not; you may think, sure, give her some money, she’ll loosen up – no – give her some money to ‘loosen her up’, she’ll just want more money and still, you’ll get nothing. No joy, no reward, no woman; nothing. Maybe some frustration. Certainly nothing positive. Women I’ve met in Philippines are takers (not all Filipino people); zero want to give back (sorry, not all, jut most, many) but all seem to expect to receive from the White man.

Few days later, tired of Talisay but having reserved that hotel until the end of the month, leaving my suitcase and other items in my room, I flew out to San Francisco, Philippines. San Francisco was the most undeveloped town I’d seen in Philippines, yet with the most expensive hotel I had encountered (along with another attempted taxi scam from the bus then later some light White Man Taxation); then I was quickly found by a lady. I was ravenous so offered to take her out for a meal (I had in mind the pleasant street-food restaurant where I had breakfasted; having earlier inquired at the adjacent street-food joint to find identical food at double the price – just for a White man), she accepted and insisted on bringing her family (typical in Philippines); two hours and around 2000 Pesos later, she and her 10-person cohort had enjoyed a first-class meal at a Western restaurant (at her insistence). Deciding I wanted to spend the day at a San Fran beach, 10 of us climbed into a ‘jeepney’ (small bus/truck) and travelled 45 minutes to the beach. Jeepney fare for everyone, another 1000P. Beach food/drink/incidentals, another 1000P. Beach reservation/umbrella, 350P – although that somehow blew out to another 1000, but I was too tired at this point to care. Painfully aware I was still liable for the 1000P return trip – the last 1000 in my wallet (I had foolishly imagined a ‘day at the beach’ would be inexpensive so had only brought 5000 Pesos – basic monthly salary in Philippines is only 10,000 – but, of course, Filipino ladies can make anything costly).

I found myself reminiscing about my ‘1000 Peso a day’ Butuan lady; by comparison, she was a cheap date, although maybe I needed to play a longer game with this San Fran lady – maybe once she saw how much I was willing to spend on her she would lift her game…

I glanced at the recipient of my goodwill, having not received a smile in my direction, emanated warmth, even gratitude, all day. She forced a weak smile this time.

…Hm. It didn’t look auspicious; not a gamble I was willing to take.

Her family was great, we had a lot of fun and chatted throughout day; the object of the occasion, though, even as darkness fell, didn’t appear to care at all – in fact, it seemed, the more money I spent on her and her family, while the family seemed to love me, the more she avoided me.

I went back to my hotel that night and back to Talisay the next day.

 

Most Filipino folk claim to be devout Catholics; for many women, this apparently means ‘no sex before marriage’. Indeed, most young Filipino women will claim to be virginal; most are not. From what I understand, most Filipino boys will have had their way with most Filipino women (in Philippines, most girls become ‘women’ frightfully young) before they reach 16 (sometimes years younger than that) – irrespective most of these women will maintain ‘virginity’ until marriage. (Incidentally, up until a few years ago, like much of Asia, the Philippines age of consent was just 13 years old; in a quest to decrease the rate of teenage pregnancy, however, the age was raised. The efficacy of this shift is questionable.) Filipino families, devout Catholics who lie and cheat like it’s Gospel; yeah, most of Philippines’ so-called devout Catholics (‘Not all Filipino people’) are raging Hypocrites (‘Sorry, not all, just most, many’).

What would God do – would He lie and cheat His way through life? Well, no, according to the Bible, in fact, He would have been more likely to offer up some virgins to be raped by angry townsfolk and/or family members (seriously, read the Old Testament, it’s horrific) https://www.gotquestions.org/Lots-daughters.html  while keeping some other virgins pure to later entertain Himself and his Prophets, but that’s a story for another day.

 

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Hippo Crit Ocale

Photography by Gad Butherers

For a Filipino local, life in Philippines is likely an unremarkable existence.

For a White man trying to respectfully make his way in this Third World land, the adopted lifestyle is anything but unremarkable.

Butuan was nice, reminded me of my dream province in Vietnam and, just like Buon Ma Thuot, I would have happily made it my (other) home; all I needed was assurance that the woman for whom I had come to Philippines was worth it.

I was aware she had heard it before but, even before we arrived back from the airport, I was compelled to go over my ‘rules’ (in context, of course): “As you know, I like simple … I do not tolerate lies … Small lies, big lies, they’re all the same to me because, when you lie to me, It means you don’t respect me and, if you don’t respect me, small lies will always become big lies, then you need to lies more to cover the lies, then nothing makes sense, you lose sight of reality, you contradict yourself because you forget what lies you’ve already told me… Lies complicate and unnecessary complications piss me off … I like simple, I like real … Be honest, be genuine, tell me anything you want, no matter how bad and, providing it’s the truth, I will assess it and I will accept it … Tell me lies and I’m gone … Treat me well, don’t ever lie to me, I will treat you very well.”

“Okay,” she said dreamily. “Yeah, I hate lies too.”

That was her first lie.

First thing I noticed, amid this inexpensive rural settling, was how much money I was spending on my travel partner. I could live comfortably, even eating out twice a day (the expensive hotel room she had encouraged me to rent provided breakfast), living a peaceful existence on around 500 Pesos – she would easily burn through over twice that, not including the hotel for which I had already paid. Of course, I had no problem spending money on a lady but, it occurred to me, the way she was behaving once I arrived – now – was not even a little bit how she would have been behaving before I arrived. This troubled me; I was there, with her, to sample the beauty of Philippines life, we were doing none of what she had previously said we would do – beaches, snorkelling, hiking – although she was certainly making the most of my time there – hair done, nails done, clothes, makeup – which, again, fine, I had time to myself, this was my preference. What I could not suffer, though, was when we would meet up again, she would barely speak to me, other than to demand more money.

It took two days to realise the 33-year-old woman from Butuan was not my destiny.

Next day, she was busy all day; I used my further alone time to book flights to and accommodation in Cebu.

Day after that, seemingly courtesy of an implicit compounding effect in her own mind, she had not a pleasant word to say; we breakfasted together but she refused to come for a swim afterwards. Her words, as she stormed off, seemingly annoyed at herself for being too lazy to be any better, “Oh, why don’t you just leave … Go to Cebu! (For the record, there was no way she had knowledge of my planned trip to Cebu; I had heard this before, anyway, whenever she was frustrated – ‘Just leave … Go to Cebu!’ – this was just how she ended most of her personally inspired disagreements with me.)

Next time I saw her I told her, “Right, you’ll be pleased, going to Cebu tomorrow.”

“What?” She actually looked surprised. “Why?”

“Remember ‘Be good to me and I’ll treat you well’? Yeah, well, I feel as though I’ve treated you pretty well and, basically, you’ve been treating me like a piece of shit with money.”

From what I’ve seen, Filipinos (‘not all Filipino people’) are an opportunistic bunch (‘sorry, not all, just most, many’) who, when faced with a White man, seem to become overawed by avarice; their focus becomes attempting to screw as much money in one hit as they can out of the ‘idiot American’.

 

The ‘White Man Tax’, extra cost placed upon any item the Filipino vendor believes the White man is stupid enough to pay – fruit, vegetables, other takeaway food, barbershop, hardware, anything – ‘taxation’ attempts of the aforementioned happened to me continually during the month of January, through February, onto March, until these vendors started to realise for themselves what I was always sure to tell them before leaving in empty-handed disgust never to return: “I am going to be here for a long time, my repeat custom would have served you much better than a one-time score.”

“No English.”

 

 

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Wyatt Mon Tacks

Photography by Phil Upeen Marketing

In the beginning, like so many Western men, for me the allure of Philippines could be summarised in one word: women.

Now, regarding Philippines, the term ‘women’ makes me want to throw up a little.

The worst thing, though, it’s not just the women who leave a taste of bile on my tongue; it’s Philippines.

It began last year, November ’22, following a successful tour of, and honourable discharge from, Vietnam; along my passage home I thought I could push my luck a little further and stop off in the reputed paradise of ‘The Philippines’.

Interesting how, whenever I am planning a trip somewhere, even before I physically notify anyone, suddenly half the world seems to know (makes me wonder, how secure are Facebook ‘personal messages’; yeah, perhaps a fair assertion that Mr Facebook is taking a cut from Mr Google as they sit around munching Cookies thinking up new and invasive ways to get their pop-ups seen).

While still in Vietnam I was besieged with Facebook friend requests from Filipino ladies; seriously, just the women, which was peculiar because, as it would turn out, 97% of Filipino women have ‘broken phones’, and need between 1000 and 4000 Pesos for a new one (so, although I never saw it, I guess these ladies must be using laptops for their on-the-go social media gold-digging/time-wasting).

“Wonderful,” I would say, “I’ll be in your country soon, we’ll catch up, get you a new phone…”

Those communications seldom went any further which was maybe because, as I now understand, you’re unlikely to get a new phone in Philippines for under 5000.

I’d been friends for years with a woman from Butuan, Philippines; she was bright, funny, beautiful, slim – in Philippines a ‘slim woman’ over the age of 18 is rare – seemed wonderful, and the best thing, although she did once mention her broken phone, she had never once asked me for money.

It was set; Vietnam to New Zealand, via Butuan, Philippines.

Awesome. Another Third World airport, more rain delays, not unexpected, angry White man (“…fuckin’ shambles, couldn’t organise a fuckin’ piss-up in a brewery…”), presumed Australian, not unexpected, subdued bedlam, not unexpected, malfunctioning technology, frustrating; not intolerable.

From Saigon to Manila, Manila to Butuan; another almost 24-hour sleepless period – wouldn’t have been bad but for a 9-hour (outdoor) wait at Manila airport to catch the plane down to Butuan. The upside, I was able to experience my first Philippines taxi scam; seedy-looking middle-aged cretin tried to charge me USD50 for the ride between airport terminals – having missed the airport shuttle through ignorance this taxi driver saw the opportunity to exploit the ‘idiot American’ (as all White folk seem to be to Filipinos), but hadn’t wagered on the idiot being a seasoned Southeast Asian traveller – remaining calm, I flicked on the inside light (4am), found the conveniently ‘misplaced’ price chart, and scrolled down to ‘T1 -T2 300P’.

Suffice to say, I paid him 300 Pesos, told him he was a shithead (by then he was claiming ‘no English’, anyway), and disembarked. Incidentally, USD50 is more than PHP2500.

Still running my Vietnamese SIM, I had maintained contact with my Philippines acquaintance until I left Vietnam; having notified her of my scheduled arrival time in Butuan – she had agreed to pick me up at the airport – having reassured her, ‘Do not be discouraged if/when we lose contact, I won’t have a Philippines SIM, and WIFI at some airports require that. Just be there, hundred percent, I will be there at 06:05.’

Just five minutes past my scheduled arrival – unsure how that works, we left Manila over an hour late – I was unsurprised to find my airport pickup absent; this trait of Philippines people (‘Not all Filipino people’) was one that I would see a lot in the coming months and regarding a variety of topics, this (‘Sorry, not all, just most – many’) is a discussion I would have had numerous times.

Eventually, over two hours later, with much assistance from airport staff, I logged into some characteristically unreliable airport WIFI and reminded/roused my pickup to come get me; thus, marks almost 24 hours sleepless travel and the first leg of my tour.

 

Philippines, not unlike much of Southeast Asia, seems to embrace a culture of dishonesty yet, unlike, say, Vietnam – where, as a tourist, you might turn up, be lied to, cheated, have all your money swindled on the first day/night – if you wish to leave that scene, there’s always places you can go in Vietnam that are relatively honest and do not maintain such a duplicitous culture; although, admittedly, I have only visited, I think, five islands (of around 2000 inhabited) and been located in four different regions, having spoken candidly to a expanse of locals who claim to have experienced much of their country’s offerings, at least implicitly, I am led to believe that Cebu is one of the more ‘honourable’ destinations in Philippines.

For country whose income is based on tourism, I find this concerning.

 

 

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by D C Ving

Photography by Philip P Nass