3 paperbacks - "Any Means to an End" and "Protective Craft" making up the duology of "The Lost Diaries of Richard Buchanan" and "Teaching Overseas - A Short Guide".
"White Sands, Green Trees" & "Fishing Trip - An Introduction to Fly Fishing and Trout" are Kindle only. Coming soon is a Biology Revision Guide.
Humorous and true description of my travels and adventures around the Philippines and Malaysia during 1996-98.
Sundays after arriving in Manila, a trip was organised by Bob Keen for the new
staff of the school to visit the Ta’al volcano in Batangas. This is about an hour’s drive south of Manila
on an easy traffic day (but there aren’t many of those).
The driver we
had for the minibus was Alfredo, with his gnarly hands and crumpled face. It is obligatory for Alfredo to toot the horn
after every gear change, a hangover from his days driving the indomitable
jeepneys around Makati and Manila. He’d
been banned from driving once (no mean feat in the Philippines, and had to
retake his test). However, this meant
that he’d passed his driving test twice more than an awful lot of other Fil
drivers. Off we set and soon we were
passing out of the concrete of Manila and seeing a lot more greenery as we
reached the outskirts of Ayala Alabang.
It was a sunny morning (aren’t they all), and we soon cut through what
Sunday traffic there was to reach the Ta’al Vista Hotel.
This resort is
perched on the rim of what was the side of the original volcano that had
collapsed in on itself to form Lake Ta’al.
It was in the middle of this lake that the present day volcano was
situated. It was rather cool up in the
Tagaytay heights and thick mists obscured the view of the volcano in the lake
for a few minutes after we arrived at 1030.
All that could be seen were the tall grasses and palms disappearing down
on precipitous slopes below us.
Obviously some fast food was required to kill the time, and so the
nearby Jollibee outlet sufficed.
Once a few
snaps of the scene had been achieved, we all bundled into the van for the drive
down the crater sides to the lakeshore.
At the oddly named Yacht Club (?), we hired the services of a local
banca (long narrow boat with outriggers) operator. Here I learnt one of the first lessons for
life in the Philippines – don’t pay up front.
Wait until you have been safely delivered before paying. As it was a return journey, the boatman was
going to wait at the volcano shore while we climbed it and came back.
It took about 20 minutes to cross the lake to the volcano and the
village near the landing point. Here we
discovered we would each be charged for the use of the jetty (20 pesos), and
were immediately accosted by women and children aiming to sell souvenirs and
horse rides up to the top. Judging by
the condition of the horses, carrying someone was about the last thing they could
be capable of. Thin and emaciated, I
thought they would be
better off spending the time feeding and resting.
Working our way
through the huddle of houses, we found the path up the volcano and proceeded at
a reasonable pace. The going was easy if
only a little warm, and we soon found ourselves being passed at a rest point by
some Oriental tourists on the sad horses.
Their riders were middle aged and overweight. The horses must have suffered, as they were
encouraged up the hill by the operators with their sticks. Photos were taken as we marched up the hill
amongst some rather curious plants. Many
of the surrounding slopes seemed to be cultivating these, although other ridges
were devoid of vegetation, appearing whitish on pale green. Within about an hour of setting off we were
at the rim of the crater, having skidded up the last steep section over a few
small smoking cracks.
At the top,
locals selling water and coconuts from a stall greeted us. This was when we discovered that we were glad
we’d brought our own sealed mineral water bottles. The ones these people were flogging had no
seal. The barrier to stop folks falling
into the crater was a flimsy bamboo fence, but even though I’m terrified of
heights, I did venture a peek over the edge to see the lake inside the volcano
and the steaming vents around the sides and from the stack in the middle.
Volcano is the world’s smallest active volcano, and on the path up to the top
several small fissures leaking smoke had been stepped over. We hung around eating lunch for about an hour
and then set off back to the banca. It
only took about half an hour to get back down to the waters edge, where again
the vendors swooped and we had to pay to use the jetty again. The boatman then wanted more money. On the return journey on the banca, the rain
started to fall and things started to turn miserable. Undaunted by this, Bob’s filipina wife Lisa,
was able to negotiate the price to what it had been and we were deposited only
200 metres along the palm-fronded shore from where we had started.
the shore, I eventually espied Alfredo and the van, to which we duly
hurried. Climbing aboard, we found out
that the boatman wasn’t one of the Yacht Club ones and as we hadn’t hired one
of theirs, Alfredo shouldn’t have been parked there, so a fast exit was
required. ‘Fredo provided one, which was
rather scary, being as it was up the precipitous sides of the old crater around
some windy hairpins, with the road covering missing in places.
The visit was
finished with a view back from the Dunkin’ Donuts just beside the Tagaytay
roundabout (another rarity in the Philippines).
Plants were purchased for twice what the locals would pay at various “gardens”
(nurseries) on the road out of Tagaytay towards the South Super Highway.
This was the
real experience of the visit. Being
stuck in traffic returning to Manila after a weekend away. It was a complete nightmare and took 3 hours
to do. However, this was by no means the
worst traffic or even the usual for what I was yet to experience.
Boracay - dry season
A couple of
weeks after my return to Manila, there were a group of teachers from the
school, who announced they were off to Boracay.
I had heard of this place earlier in the year whilst still in Surrey, as
my landlord had just returned from his world trip/year off and had said it was
something to see.
The flight was
arranged with Pacific Air. To describe
Pacific Air as cowboys would be unfair to unscrupulous operators the world
over. Most of the group of 13 went on a
reasonably sized turboprop. I, along
with three teachers, was squashed into a six-seat single prop with the others’
and our luggage. I was seated in the
co-pilot’s seat and the view of Manila and Ta’al was good. It was after that that I got nervous. The pilot pulled out a map, and I assumed he
was going to point out places below. But
no. He unfolded it across the front
window to “keep the sun out”. He flew
blind across the rest of Batangas and over the islands towards Boracay. Nervously, I tried to see around the edge of
the map hoping that no other Pacific Air planes were doing the same flying in
the opposite direction.
miles out of Catlican airport the map was put away, much to the relief of all
the passengers, as the air was getting disturbed as we got lower. Dropping down along the coast of Panay, we
descended parallel to beach and paddy, approaching the airstrip. At the last minute the pilot bent down to
fiddle with something on the floor, and only looked up seconds before
touchdown. This didn’t help overcome
any worries I have about flying.
After a quick
exit we joined with the teachers already landed and waiting for us to bring
their luggage. Sorting it out, and three
or four to a tricycle, a race then ensued to the banca departure point down the
road at Catlican. First one and then
another took the lead, bouncing in and out of potholes, all arriving safely at
the quay. The trikes were 40 pesos to
hire and the banca cost about 15 pesos per person.
Bundling on to
a banca, with what seems like the world and his dog, is another
experience. The only worry is that the
boats are loaded down and go through the waves rather than over them. Letting the driver know where you want to get
off on the island helps, especially if there are a number of you wanting to get
off at the same point. It saves on lugging
kit along in sand in searing temperatures.
happened and I had to find a hotel to check into. All the others had been booked into Nigi Nigi
Nu Nu’s previously, but as I work at a different site I’d only found out a day
before departure. I went around the
corner (so to speak) for the night to sleep (250 pesos), and checked into
Nigi’s the next day when a room came available.
This was low
season (November), so rooms were available all over the island, and the White
Beach (in front of Nigi’s) was very quiet indeed. I again only had a short time (the Friday, Saturday and Sunday) of this
break generated by All Saint’s Holiday on the Friday. Hunting around I decided to get a haircut, do
a boat ride around the island and go on ride in a glass-bottomed boat. The latter I found out about on the Friday
while having the haircut, and was set for Saturday afternoon. The circuit of the island was set for Sunday
morning, with the company of Ian and Catherine.
MTV were in
town that weekend, with their Beach Craze, of volleyball, and fashion
parades at the Cocomangas Bar at the northern end of the White Beach. Friday night was spent at the Sandcastles
Thai restaurant and the cuisine was excellent.
Saturday night involved an Indian restaurant where the service was
incredibly slow, and the food, when some of what was ordered arrived, was
mediocre to say the least. While
waiting, however, conversations were being oiled with plenty of San Miguel and
wine. This may have had something to do
with Richard idly flicking a cigarette butt away, that then landed on the next
door neighbour’s roof still glowing. The
roof, being dry palm leaves posed a slight fire risk. I thought my aim with his glass of red wine
was quite superb, neatly extinguishing the stub and saving the building a
surprise. After that and the annoyance
with the food it was time to leave. The
group left en-mass, paying for the drink and the food that had been eaten, only
to find ourselves being pursued by an irate owner claiming non-payment. As armed guards are an ever-present trigger
happy group in the Philippines, his ire was quickly soothed with explanation by
one or two of the girls in the party and the rest of us hurried of to
Beachcomber and Cocomangas bars, just as on the previous nights.
There are two
bars to visit on Boracay, and these are they.
Cocomangas also has rooms that are cheap, but is probably more famous
for its shot drinking competition for those fool enough to try to down 30 and
keep them in their stomach, as well as stay standing. It is also to be noted for the method of
serving drinks in jam jars, now copied by other bars on the island. With the presence of MTV for a fashion show a
catwalk had been constructed inside the bar and various models had walked down
it the previous night. On the Saturday,
it was the turn of the tribal costumes and local Ati-Atihan dancers. These were duly filmed and then the crowd was
invited to dance around and on the catwalk.
With the approaching Turkic New Year and "spring holiday", the school erected its yurt in the atrium. During the last week, classes have been held inside it, plus other meetings.
It is surprising spacious; accommodating nearly 30 adults sitting inside. Clearly, that would be fine for temporary shelter for a short meal or gathering, but that number would be a tight fit if they were to lie down and try to sleep in the yurt in the countryside.
The Area for Women in the Yurt
This was a "show" yurt not designed for the weather and rigours of outdoor life in the steppe. Its function is to educate the students and the visiting overseas teaching staff about the heritage and culture of Kazakhstan.
The Area for the men in the Yurt
The items are laid out as they should be in a true "working" yurt which do still exist and get used further away from the urban centres. The shape is supposed to represent the universe, the links in the ceiling linking the people of the world together.
The bed and Cradle in the Yurt
The Mongolian ger is similar in structure if not the same apart from its name. The Mongolians, however do not like the word yurt, which they said was the Russian for tent, and their ger was nothing like a tent! Semantics aside, both habitations are very similar in construction and purpose and have served the nomads well for generations in the steppes and mountains of central Asia.
The novels "Any Means to an End" and "Protective Craft" describe the life of a ship's master from mid-1679 to late 1680. He is in absolute command and only during the second book does he show a semblance of allegiance to the naval authorities. He is a leader whom his men follow.
Over this past year especially I have attended several meetings designed to lay out what leadership is and contrast that with managerial offices. There are many instances where people are labelled "captains of industry" and lauded for their roles of leadership. There are many who would, in my opinion, fit that description, but they are few compared to the total given that description in the press and other media.
My reasons are this. The boss of a utility company is really the manager appointed by the state. Heads of banks usually fit the same bill, where the banks and institutions have a long history and the appointments are made. In those situations, the company has probably grown as much as it can and is in a monopoly position or is part of a cartel of interests that cannot really fail.
The real "captains" of industry build up from scratch and face failure on a daily basis at the beginning or they take over a company in serious decline and turn it around.
I believe those who think leadership can be taught, should turn their ideas into an algorithm and program a robot to be a leader, and see if that works!
How can one learn to inspire? Neville Chamberlain couldn't learn to inspire! Managers with vested interests will rarely see true leadership or will seek to suppress the people would who surpass them. Churchill was willing to think bold thoughts and take chances. Radical ideas do threaten the status quo but that doesn't mean they should be suppressed or excluded. Leaders are born, not made. The view about learning to become a leader, should be modified. Managers should learn to recognise and promote the leaders from within. Delegation of the leadership roles is part of this process, allowing the true leaders to shine.
But who gets to be a leader these days? In Europe it seems to be appointed, unelected beaurocrats. Often they have been de-selected in their home countries. Now we find them trying to dip into the savings accounts of the elderly, the children and the poor. Their poor historical regulation and management of financial institutions has lead to this attempted robbery. Bank accounts already taxed, full of currency losing value, in an inflationary climate are to be taxed again. The governments and banks were complicit in the financial collapse. The time for fining banks and financial companies has passed. All they do is get the government to use the tax-payers money to bail them out. If fined, they charge the customer (tax-payer) more. Its time for criminal responsibility and prison sentences instead of fines.
The pirates on the sea today are small beer compared to those who wear suits in the financial districts. There are leaders around today, but not much morale leadership.