laugardagur, janúar 27, 2007
Manila
No fieldwork and almost no sampling since Bicol. Instead I've been in Manila, trying to assemble auxiliary data and checking out the city a tiny little bit.
Tuesday was my big day off. I took a cab downtown (listen, Icelandic taxi drivers: 45 minutes and 3 dollars) and was greeted by a Starbucks right at the entrance to the oldest part of the city. Being a good assimilated 'Mercan I went straight in and had myself a tall latte. For reasons hard to comprehend Filipinos don't fancy brewed coffee, instead everyone drinks instant 3-in-1 coffee, which is basically sugar mixed with some creamer and instant coffee. Therefore, a Starbucks is in order every now and then.
When traveling in SE Asia and other remote places (such as the Icelandic Highlands, the Arctic and on Route 17 in NY state), toilets inevitably become a topic of interest. Turns out the toilet (or comfort room, as the local euphemism goes) at this Starbucks is the most exquisite bathroom experience one is likely to have in the archipelago. There was even hot water! Some while later, after I had strolled around the streets of old Manila for a while, a second visit to a comfort room became necessary. I inquired at a small eatery/Xerox shop that I passed and was cordially shown to the CR by the master photocopyist. What a dramatic contrast! Here I found myself in a cubicle whose walls were impregnated with the stink of urine of generations past. A lightbulk was thankfully absent and therefore I never knew what served as a receptacle in there. Was it a hole in the ground, was it the bucket, was it something I couldn't even begin to imagine? Deciding it was better to die like Tycho Brahe than use this veritable shithole, I left with a smile and a big thank-you to the copymaster.
Then there is Manila.
Here, it's hard to know where to begin. It's big. It's huge. It's absolutely monstrous. The traffic is a nightmare. The pollution is worse. The people are friendly. The kids are beautiful. A white person is a spectacle and wherever she goes, people smile or point or say hello or make remarks about the white person's alleged beauty (I have to say, I admire their good taste). Since coming to the Philippines, I haven't seen more than 3 other white people at any one time and probably no more than 10 in all. That is not a lot, let me tell you that. Before I go here again, I'm going to overdose on tanning lotion and a dark hairdye. Maybe I'll get brown contacts as well. As is, I stick out like a martian. For all the attention I get on the street, I might as well be a green midget with flippers and two antennas on my head.
Sample scrample. I need more samples. Was planning to go to Bicol again but all efforts at getting a field assistant fell through. Therefore I'll be tagging along on a class fieldtrip leaving Manila tomorrow. I'll get to revisit some of the places I already sampled and I'll also get to see Lake Taal and Laguna de Bay and sample some rivers draining into those lakes. It should be fun. After that I plan to spend another day or two sampling and then take a day or two to visit some white-sand beaches (one cant spend a month in the Philippines without ever going to the beach...). Then on the 6th, I'll get on a plane again and fly back to Ithaca. Sooo nice.
My contact here at UP, Dr. Arcilla, has been doing some studies at Payatas and he took me along so that I could sample some water. In my next post, I might tell you about it. For now, I'll tell you this: I've rarely washed myself as obsessively as I did when I got back from that visit.
Tuesday was my big day off. I took a cab downtown (listen, Icelandic taxi drivers: 45 minutes and 3 dollars) and was greeted by a Starbucks right at the entrance to the oldest part of the city. Being a good assimilated 'Mercan I went straight in and had myself a tall latte. For reasons hard to comprehend Filipinos don't fancy brewed coffee, instead everyone drinks instant 3-in-1 coffee, which is basically sugar mixed with some creamer and instant coffee. Therefore, a Starbucks is in order every now and then.
When traveling in SE Asia and other remote places (such as the Icelandic Highlands, the Arctic and on Route 17 in NY state), toilets inevitably become a topic of interest. Turns out the toilet (or comfort room, as the local euphemism goes) at this Starbucks is the most exquisite bathroom experience one is likely to have in the archipelago. There was even hot water! Some while later, after I had strolled around the streets of old Manila for a while, a second visit to a comfort room became necessary. I inquired at a small eatery/Xerox shop that I passed and was cordially shown to the CR by the master photocopyist. What a dramatic contrast! Here I found myself in a cubicle whose walls were impregnated with the stink of urine of generations past. A lightbulk was thankfully absent and therefore I never knew what served as a receptacle in there. Was it a hole in the ground, was it the bucket, was it something I couldn't even begin to imagine? Deciding it was better to die like Tycho Brahe than use this veritable shithole, I left with a smile and a big thank-you to the copymaster.
Then there is Manila.
Here, it's hard to know where to begin. It's big. It's huge. It's absolutely monstrous. The traffic is a nightmare. The pollution is worse. The people are friendly. The kids are beautiful. A white person is a spectacle and wherever she goes, people smile or point or say hello or make remarks about the white person's alleged beauty (I have to say, I admire their good taste). Since coming to the Philippines, I haven't seen more than 3 other white people at any one time and probably no more than 10 in all. That is not a lot, let me tell you that. Before I go here again, I'm going to overdose on tanning lotion and a dark hairdye. Maybe I'll get brown contacts as well. As is, I stick out like a martian. For all the attention I get on the street, I might as well be a green midget with flippers and two antennas on my head.
Sample scrample. I need more samples. Was planning to go to Bicol again but all efforts at getting a field assistant fell through. Therefore I'll be tagging along on a class fieldtrip leaving Manila tomorrow. I'll get to revisit some of the places I already sampled and I'll also get to see Lake Taal and Laguna de Bay and sample some rivers draining into those lakes. It should be fun. After that I plan to spend another day or two sampling and then take a day or two to visit some white-sand beaches (one cant spend a month in the Philippines without ever going to the beach...). Then on the 6th, I'll get on a plane again and fly back to Ithaca. Sooo nice.
My contact here at UP, Dr. Arcilla, has been doing some studies at Payatas and he took me along so that I could sample some water. In my next post, I might tell you about it. For now, I'll tell you this: I've rarely washed myself as obsessively as I did when I got back from that visit.
sunnudagur, janúar 21, 2007
Bicol
A field trip to the Bicol Peninsula has been planned and executed.
It was six days and close to 1000 km (my German gene, who needs the exact figure down to two decimal points, is not well expressed here) of bumpy and partially destroyed roads, jungle-clad volcanoes and curious and friendly locals. Some pictures should say it all:
Mount Isarog is a dormant volcano:
This volcano is not dormant at all. My first view of Mount Mayon. Note the rice paddies in the foreground and the power lines almost touching the ground. These power lines are evidence of the destructive typhoon that struck the area in late November-early December 2006:
A local man looks out over the destruction in Legazpi City, where the Yawa River found itself a new way to sea as a result of lahars caused by the typhoon:
Life goes on, even if the local bus stop is a bit messed up:
Schoolkids in their uniforms running to catch the jeepney, the Filipino equivalent of a bus. In the foreground is rice, put out on the street to dry. Many rice farmers are harvesting at this time of year in Bicol and rice drying operations sometimes shrink the roads down to half a lane:
William, the driver, and Grace, my field assistant for the trip, measure discharge in a small stream on the north flank of Mt. Isarog. The two of them have become veritable discharge experts now:
River water sampling can be very bit as messy as you thought it was:
The view of Mount Mayon in the early morning hours from the PHIVOLCS Observatory:
It was six days and close to 1000 km (my German gene, who needs the exact figure down to two decimal points, is not well expressed here) of bumpy and partially destroyed roads, jungle-clad volcanoes and curious and friendly locals. Some pictures should say it all:
Mount Isarog is a dormant volcano:
This volcano is not dormant at all. My first view of Mount Mayon. Note the rice paddies in the foreground and the power lines almost touching the ground. These power lines are evidence of the destructive typhoon that struck the area in late November-early December 2006:
A local man looks out over the destruction in Legazpi City, where the Yawa River found itself a new way to sea as a result of lahars caused by the typhoon:
Life goes on, even if the local bus stop is a bit messed up:
Schoolkids in their uniforms running to catch the jeepney, the Filipino equivalent of a bus. In the foreground is rice, put out on the street to dry. Many rice farmers are harvesting at this time of year in Bicol and rice drying operations sometimes shrink the roads down to half a lane:
William, the driver, and Grace, my field assistant for the trip, measure discharge in a small stream on the north flank of Mt. Isarog. The two of them have become veritable discharge experts now:
River water sampling can be very bit as messy as you thought it was:
The view of Mount Mayon in the early morning hours from the PHIVOLCS Observatory:
Enn einn tvífarinn
Héðan er nú margt merkilegra að frétta en ég hendi þessu hér inn samt sem áður:
Við vorum suður í Sorsogon-héraði að taka sýni og spurðum eldri mann, íbúa við þjóveginn, til vegar. Hann leit út alveg nákvæmlega eins og Steingrímur Hermannsson og sonur hans Gummi Steingríms myndu líta út ef þeir væru einn og hinn sami og þar að auki frá Filippseyjum.
Það var og.
Við vorum suður í Sorsogon-héraði að taka sýni og spurðum eldri mann, íbúa við þjóveginn, til vegar. Hann leit út alveg nákvæmlega eins og Steingrímur Hermannsson og sonur hans Gummi Steingríms myndu líta út ef þeir væru einn og hinn sami og þar að auki frá Filippseyjum.
Það var og.
mánudagur, janúar 15, 2007
föstudagur, janúar 05, 2007
On a layover
Another Christmas come and gone and they are already advertising Valentine's Day merchandise. Hail consumption! (not...)
My little 5-day layover in the US has been rather uneventful, I must say. All the stuff for field work is pretty much packed by now, of which I am justifiably proud, since usually I'm running around last minute trying to throw everything into boxes and panicking about having forgotten something critical. This time, I'll leave that scenario for the packing of my personal items.
Christmas in Iceland was great. We met with friends and family, I saw my darling sister Lára for the first time in over two years, my old class from high school met at Stína's for (disappointingly?) civil drinks and chat, Stína's twins recognized me yet again and were even willing to give me a hug or two, something I was not able to tease out of my lovely little niece Lilja. Fortunately her twin brother, Tómas, more than made up for the un-hugginess of his sister.
Shan and I met repeatedly with our Ithaca-friends Ármann and Ása, who had us over for dinner and joined the two of us and Lára and her boyfriend Kári to a summerhouse in the countryside, where fierce winds tore open trunks of cars and the hot tub was incredibly cozy and nice. We also went to the mother of all Christmas parties, the Líndal-clan's meeting at Stína's childhood home. It was fun as always, meeting Stína's mom and sister and her stepfather Sigurður, with whom I didn't have a nearly long enough conversation. I also learned how age is no barrier to other women eyeing my boyfriend; Sigurður's sister, consideraly more advanced in years than Shan, couldn't get her eyes off him once she had seen the "beautiful, big man" and even introduced herself in her finest Icelandic! As is to be expected, I just about burst apart at the seams with pride over my man :)
Downtown on Þorláksmessa was wonderful. We were a little crumpled up, since we arrived on noon that same day after a long trip from Ithaca that included a roughly 5-hour delay on our flight out of JFK due to crazy (as we say) weather in Iceland. That crazy weather had abated considerably by the time we arrived but rain, winds and general gloominess prevailed until New Year's Eve. That day we had decided to go for a drive in the countryside and lo and behold, for the first time in over a week we saw the sun! New Year's came with the best weather in 10 years, windstill and temperatures at the freezing point. Shan shot up the hugest of all huge bottle rockets (almost...) and the fireworks spectacle in the city was fantastic. Some idiots next door almost killed someone as a big bottle rocket that was meant to explode way up in the sky landed in our neighbors driveway and exploded there, I'm glad it wasn't our driveway! In general, it was a great evening, but I'm glad that I'm not a survivor of war because I would need psychotherapy after hearing all these explosions.
Next time, I'll blog from somewhere in the Philippines. 'Till then!
My little 5-day layover in the US has been rather uneventful, I must say. All the stuff for field work is pretty much packed by now, of which I am justifiably proud, since usually I'm running around last minute trying to throw everything into boxes and panicking about having forgotten something critical. This time, I'll leave that scenario for the packing of my personal items.
Christmas in Iceland was great. We met with friends and family, I saw my darling sister Lára for the first time in over two years, my old class from high school met at Stína's for (disappointingly?) civil drinks and chat, Stína's twins recognized me yet again and were even willing to give me a hug or two, something I was not able to tease out of my lovely little niece Lilja. Fortunately her twin brother, Tómas, more than made up for the un-hugginess of his sister.
Shan and I met repeatedly with our Ithaca-friends Ármann and Ása, who had us over for dinner and joined the two of us and Lára and her boyfriend Kári to a summerhouse in the countryside, where fierce winds tore open trunks of cars and the hot tub was incredibly cozy and nice. We also went to the mother of all Christmas parties, the Líndal-clan's meeting at Stína's childhood home. It was fun as always, meeting Stína's mom and sister and her stepfather Sigurður, with whom I didn't have a nearly long enough conversation. I also learned how age is no barrier to other women eyeing my boyfriend; Sigurður's sister, consideraly more advanced in years than Shan, couldn't get her eyes off him once she had seen the "beautiful, big man" and even introduced herself in her finest Icelandic! As is to be expected, I just about burst apart at the seams with pride over my man :)
Downtown on Þorláksmessa was wonderful. We were a little crumpled up, since we arrived on noon that same day after a long trip from Ithaca that included a roughly 5-hour delay on our flight out of JFK due to crazy (as we say) weather in Iceland. That crazy weather had abated considerably by the time we arrived but rain, winds and general gloominess prevailed until New Year's Eve. That day we had decided to go for a drive in the countryside and lo and behold, for the first time in over a week we saw the sun! New Year's came with the best weather in 10 years, windstill and temperatures at the freezing point. Shan shot up the hugest of all huge bottle rockets (almost...) and the fireworks spectacle in the city was fantastic. Some idiots next door almost killed someone as a big bottle rocket that was meant to explode way up in the sky landed in our neighbors driveway and exploded there, I'm glad it wasn't our driveway! In general, it was a great evening, but I'm glad that I'm not a survivor of war because I would need psychotherapy after hearing all these explosions.
Next time, I'll blog from somewhere in the Philippines. 'Till then!
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