It’s been over a year that I’ve been planning on writing something about my life changing trip to the Philippines. Figure now is the best time to. I was there for the best of three weeks, so condensing this into one blog is a bit impossible.
I hadn’t been back to the Philippines since I was 8 years old. Born in Saint John, New Brunswick, I had a really bad identity crisis. First off, I thought I was white up until I was 5 years old. Then I thought I was Chinese until I was 6. Then Japanese from 6 to 7. This mainly had to do with other school children telling me who I was – nobody had met or seen a Filipino before, so everyone automatically lumped me into a different Asian category. When they tossed me into the Japanese category, I used that as leverage to make other kids think I knew martial arts (which kept the bullies at bay).
By 8, my parents brought me to the Philippines before I lost my marbles. Mikey is my first cousin who I spent most of my time playing with on the streets, celebrating NYE by setting off fire crackers and lighting barrels of fire in the streets. We drank glass bottles of coke, rode in Jeepneys (right), and caused a lot of mischief while we were exploring the streets of Manila. Aside from my life long best friend & current roommate Geezy, Mikey may had been the first person I have ever truly connected with. And as an only child, Mikey is the closest thing I have to a brother.
Ramone in the Philippines, Part 1: An Identity Crisis, War Stories, and an Introduction to Tito Dougs
But it probably wasn’t a good time to be there considering there was a coup d’etat going on. I remember watching dog fights in the sky – the loser occasionally slamming their war planes into buildings. I remember walking through destroyed areas of the city: crumbling homes, families crying, soldiers with automatic weapons standing along side tanks. The innocence of childhood prevented me from not knowing what any of this meant. At the time of war my family evacuated Manila for my Tito Douglas’ place outside of the city.
Tito Douglas was my uncle and a successful man. He was a talent manager for some of the biggest actors and singers in the Philippines, and was one of the pioneers of the Philippine showbiz industry. A genuinely kind man who thought about others before himself, he became a figure of inspiration for me – not by his wealth, but by his kindness, his generosity, and his positive aura. The man was one of a kind.
This brings me to why I was in the Philippines: Tito Dougs passed away last year.
I booked a last minute flight to the Philippines with my mom for his funeral, which was being held in Manila. I hadn’t been back in 20 years, let alone left North America, so I didn’t know what to expect. That, along with being there for my mom and dealing with the passing of a life-long role model. I had spoken to him over the phone periodically over the years but I can’t say I was active as I should have been. I just didn’t want to miss out on any more of it.
We were waiting at Pearson’s Airport for our 15 hour flight to Hong Kong, which would transfer to Manila. We were browsing the duty free watches when she pulled me aside to warn me about what to expect when we land. That his passing had spread across the entire country. It was on every TV, radio, and print publication. That the media may pull us aside for interviews. She already knew she would have to – as a very strong woman in household with five brothers, she was Tito Dougs’ favourite. My mom isn’t a shy person, and was ready to handle the reigns of speaking, if necessary, on behalf of her brothers.
After a grueling 15 hour flight, we were met by my cousin, Kuya Peewee. He was the older brother of Mikey, and the last time I saw him, he was a 16 year old up and coming movie star. He had since settled down with a beautiful family.
Culture shock hit me as we passed by one of the many areas of Manila that would be considered the slums. Having been away from the Philippines for so long, it felt like I had never seen one before in person. Kuya told me that the government had began installing fake, colourful buildings in front of the slums, in order to block it out of view. The idea sickened me.
There’s nothing better to start your day off with than a healthy serving of chicken eyeballs and intestines (isaw).
We didn’t head down to my uncle Tito Mark’s place to shower first. We were asked to head straight to Heritage Park, as the entire family was staying there day and night. We looked like hell from exhaustion and gross clothing. Nonetheless, we arrived at the funeral home of Tito Dougs, passing by a countless number of 8′ bouquets made with bamboo & flowers, addressed from politicians and celebrities alike. It was obvious he was well respected.
We made it to the entrance of the room where my uncle rested. As we pushed the doors open, we were greeted by a shining bright light, most likely multiple spotlights, and a flurry of photographers, camera men, and reporters.
This should be fun.
We were greeted by the Philippine paparazzi.
Fortunately, we were able to whiz by without question, although many of them were pointing and asking each other, “is that a celebrity?” and took photos and video from afar. No idea why, considering I was wearing a black patterned hoodie, some ratty jeans, and tee that needed immediate replacement. My mom is pretty fair skinned, so that alone gathered the media’s attention.
We finally got to see and meet my cousins, aunts, uncles, and the little ones whom I haven’t seen in years, and also explained to them that I don’t speak Tagalog. That was fine ’cause everyone speaks English anyway. The dude I was looking forward to seeing the most was Mikey, who we found out ended up living very similar lives with me in the Philippines. We both have worked or are currently working in an unfulfilling corporate role. We both have a big sense for fashion, and eventually both ended up working in it. He is amazing behind the camera. He blogs. We found it odd that the two of us, who hadn’t kept in contact for almost 20 years, somehow managed to follow down the same career path and have nearly identical interests. The two things I envy most about him are his unreal photographic talent and his humble characteristics. I do need to chew on the humble pie a little more. I had a lot to learn from him. I know you’re reading this Mikey – you rock.
The wake was open for seven days during his passing, and was open 24 hours a day. We stayed at Heritage Park the entire time, although we arrived mid week. There were proper shower facilities, however we had to sleep on couches, pews, chairs that we put together. And since I was jet lagged I slept through a lot of the first few days, which was really hard considering how bustling this place was during the day.
Each day was sponsored by a different company or person. Correct me if I’m wrong, but when we arrived on Wednesday, the night was hosted by GMA Network (the ABC network of the Philippines), the Showbiz Industry hosted Thursday (the equivalency of the Actor’s Guild), and Ben Chan from Bench Clothing hosted Friday.
Before you assume anything, there are two Bench Clothing’s. The one you’re used to is “Bench.”. This one is “bench/”. Notice the symbols? Legal issues between both companies forced each to put a character after each one. The story is an amazing one. Possibly a decade ago, Ben Chan approached Tito Dougs for help on his new clothing line. Ben wanted to make t-shirts. Tito Dougs helped connect him to the right people, provided him with models, and became an advisor for Ben on his new clothing line. Years later, Bench became huge in Asia, and would become the equivalent of H&M in the far east. During Ben’s speech, he could barely speak on the microphone. Tito Dougs made him the successful business man he is today.
Each day there was mass, followed by great food, shmoozing, drinks, and music. Many moments were magical, as described on PEP:
Gary Valenciano performed three songs towards the end. During his song, a black and brown bird that looked like a jay appeared above the coffin of Tito Dougs. The audience also released butterflies in the air, adding to the melancholia of the moment.
Please read this news article, it really paints a picture of how much Tito Dougs had changed so many people’s lives.
Ben Chan wasn’t the only one affected by Tito Dougs magic touch.
Every Filipino knows who Richard Gomez and Lucy Torres is. They’re like the Brad and Angelina of the Philippines. And arguably the biggest actor and heart throb in the Philippines for decades. Tito Dougs was both talent manager for Richard and best friends with the two of them, where the two spent all week at the wake, mourning. Tito Dougs changed his life drastically – he discovered Richard decades ago, while he was working at McDonalds.
But I digress. I didn’t have a clue who any of these people were. I had no idea of how big some of these celebrities were until after I Google’d them. But it was pretty cool to meet ‘em.
I spent most of the time kicking it with Tyron Perez. Good dude to get drunk with. I Google’d him and apparently he starred in a movie that involved male strippers and a dude-threesome. Awkward.
We drank one night at 2am with Tyron and Andrew, some bodybuilder who actually looked more fat than built. I assumed it was his off season. He had a buncha tattoos, including “Only God Can Judge Me Now”, and he talked pretty thug life for a really pale Filipino. I didn’t wanna jump to conclusions, but he was kinda cheesy.
Tyron was getting a massage from this old man. First off, I found it really weird talking to a guy while he was getting a massage from another guy, let alone being five times his age. He insisted I got a massage with him too, so I did.
At 4am, everyone stopped what they were doing and eagerly turned towards the entrance. A posse of 10 dudes rolled in, with one really short guy in the middle. I got stoked when I heard people mutter the sacred word: Manny.
That’s the sheer power that Manny has over this country. Even the celebrities oogle him. His face is on every billboard on the country, sponsoring everything from dirt bikes, beer companies, and electric tooth brushes. In the cycle of power in the Philippines, there’s the politicians, the celebrities, and then there’s was Manny. He’s a God there.
Nobody dashed over. He had a pretty big squad of dudes with him, and everyone wanted to play it cool. I had stage fright so I just sat there waiting. Turns out it was Manny Paxao, famous celebrity impersonator. We were all punk’d. Including you just now.
Tyron decided at 7am that we should get more booze. Already hammered out of my skull on Red Horse, I was down. We hopped in his car with Tito Rod, who would follow me around most of the time as an acting bodyguard. Tyron sped through the congested streets. He drove better than most people I see in North America. I already knew that drinking and driving was not enforced in the Philippines, and for the most part it was actually an accepted thing to do.
We stopped into a convenience store and Tyron made the cashiers pick their jaws up off the ground. He went into Bieber mode, dropping the boyish smile on them and acting feverishly cool around the young ones.
Tito Dougs closest friends were Richard Gomez, Joey Marquez, and John Estrada – all very awesome dudes. John was closer to my age so I related with him more. He’s also the most bad-ass of all the dude celebrities. The Filipino James Dean. He told me he dated a girl in Scarborough once, who he brought to the Philippines. Then dumped her for a Brazilian model. OK – he may not be the prototype gentleman, but he was definitely the Colin Farrell equivalent.
Next up, the Funeral…
I just came back from a funeral for my aunt yesterday. I wasn’t too close with her, but I was really good friends with her son. I’m a very analytical person, and because of that I’ve learned to harness my emotions in a variety of situations. Except Death. It’s one of the hardest things for me to go through, so regardless of how close that person is to me. A part of death that really pulls me down is seeing the heartache people go through when someone passes away.
I wasn’t there every day with Tito Dougs. Hell, I met him in person once before. But that one time we met made an impression that lasted a lifetime. My mom refused birthday gifts from him for me because I was so far away, but I did get to speak with him on the phone over the course of my life. He had a genuine charm and the drive to help that didn’t exist much in our current society. It’s one of the reasons why my mom made Douglas my middle name.
The last day of the funeral had been one of the toughest things I had ever went through. I knew this wasn’t conventional, but the sheer dramatics put me and a lot of other people through a mournful state.
The pallbearers included Joey Marquez, Richard Gomez, John Estrada, and a slew of other talents that my uncle managed. It was a long walk from the wake to the crematorium, but the media followed along, filming and photographing the long march.
As we arrived at the crematorium, we went into a stairwell that went downstairs. At the bottom of this basement, which looked more like a dungeon, we were packed into a room that was about as big as your living room. It was cramped, hot, and emotions were running high. The curtains were unveiled as we saw Tito Dougs’ body presented in front of us, with two men in lab coats next to him and a pit of fire behind him. I’d never seen anything like it.
We were given roses. Through the tight crowd, each of us crawled on our knees to him to lay a rose on his chest. Everyone was crying on their knees to him. People, including an uncle, had anxiety attacks and had to be rushed out of the basement room. I left for him and because I couldn’t take it anymore. I especially didn’t want to see him closed behind the pit of fire.
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We traveled 3.5 hours of our Manila to a small, beautiful town that I will decline naming. Ask me if you really want to know. After spending years living in an urban environment, I could totally understand why Tito Dougs wanted to build his rest house here.
No corporate influence. No shopping malls. No big brands. No advertising everywhere. Just people happy to be healthy and alive. School children wandered the narrow streets. People selling fascinating items from their stores that lined up the street. And everyone was smiling. It was the anti-city.
His rest house was where my uncle had passed away. He had a heart attack in his bed early in the morning. His rest house wasn’t a mansion by any means, but it was big enough to house all his rare artwork, statues, figurines, and worldly possessions that he kept away from the city and spotlight. It had a huge gazebo filled with antiques, a garden, multiple rooms, an outdoor enclosed shower that looked like a rain forest.
I developed a mild case of the flu that hit me like a truck while I was there. Slept for the entire day we were there.
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On the way back, it was dark and our driver, who was also Tito Dougs’ driver and the nicest man you’ll ever meet, we were weaving through the windy, one lane highway. Tito Dougs’ ashes were in a box, sitting between us, traveling everywhere we went.
We heard a thud from above us and the dome light went out. Heard a plastic crack.
At the exact moment while we were driving 100 km/h, a coconut or mango had fallen from a tree and landed on our van. It landed at such a perfect spot on the van that it had knocked off the plastic cover of the interior dome light, which in turn, landed on top of the box holding Tito Dougs’ ashes.
If you calculated the chances of this actually happening, it would have to be below 0.0001%.
Take it as you will, but we saw it as a message from Tito Dougs.
Tito Dougs – your family misses you. If I could turn back the hands of time, I would have visited the Philippines often and spent more time with you. I’m sorry for not being there, and I hope you know your passing has made me closer with our family in the Philippines. And I plan to see them as much as I can.
RIP Tito Dougs.
Last chapter on my trip to the Philippines, arriving tomorrow on bookshelves. And by bookshelves I mean my blog.
Actually, I’m a little perplexed. What is really my motherland?
When I was in the Philippines, everyone knew I was an outsider. I didn’t speak Tagalog, I didn’t look Filipino. I was a foreigner to them.
Yet when I think about being born & raised in New Brunswick, I’m really not treated like it’s my home. Hell, I used to drive up to parking lot attendees, with my NB license plates, and the attendee would say, “So, how long are you here from Toronto?”. I would get approached at clubs, and a guy would say, “So, what brings you here from Saudi Arabia?”. What the hell, Saudi Arabia?
Which is probably why I’m in Toronto. Cultural acceptance is a big thing here, and I can feel comfortable calling this place home without being ridiculed as an outsider. That would make Canada my motherland, however for the purposes of heritage and this blog post, the motherland will also be the Philippines.
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Everything is cheap in the Philippines.
Everyone who whines about how a ticket to the Philippines is astronomically high needs to zip it. Yes, it’s a high cost. However once you get there, everything is sooo cheap. It’s the equivalent of buying an inexpensive ticket to Europe and blowing all your money on the Euro (or worse, Pound) conversion.
I think this works best in point form:
6 pack of Heineken: $1
Pack of smokes: $1
Big Mac Meal: $2
Cost of a Maid per month: $75
Cost of a Driver per month: $300
Red Bull & Vodka drink at the more expensive clubs in Manila: $2.50
Seriously, don’t complain about the ticket price.
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Speaking of clubs, I went with my cousin Mikey and my cousin Sarsi.
We went to a club called Fiama. We wanted to hit Embassy, the top club in Manila, but it was closed for a private function. It was the next club to go to that would be considered high end. It was $5 to get in.
As expected, it was rammed with Filipino people. It reminded me of District in Toronto when it was open. It was an Asian club. People dressed the same as here, the music was the same as here. A few white and black guys poked their heads above everyone else, obviously because Filipino people are generally shorter. I bought a round of drinks for my cousins and my cousin’s friend, and it cost me under $10. Nobody tips out there.
A flock of older Filipino women, or Tita’s as I called em, surrounded Mikey and I as we were sitting at the bar. They kept purposely bumping into me. I was avoided talking to women in general at this place simply of the stories I kept hearing about ladyboys and how well disguised they are in the Philippines.
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My trip to Cebu was great. Love how that city has morphed into a centre for international business. Very modernized and well kept in comparison to the smog & slums of Manila. The fruits were rich, the people spoke better English, and the malls and community areas were very clean.
My dad’s side of the family was all from Cebu, and I met all of my cousins and family for the first time in a long time. Apparently all of my cousins from Cebu, including myself, had a Jeepney growing up that had our names drawn inside of it. So there over a decade there was a Jeepney in Cebu that had “Reggie” and my cousins names written on it. Awesome.
My mom and my Ate Mabel (Ate means female elder sister or cousin, opposite to Kuya) checked out the beaches in Mactan. We explored the beach and multiple pools of the Shangri La and caught some rays. It was all European and Korean people there. We eventually got kicked off the beach for being Filipino. Filipinos are generally not rich enough to pay for the $250/night cost.
We went next door to Abaca, which is my favourite resort thus far in the Philippines. We were given a tour of the facilities, which included an infinity pool surrounded by cabanas, day beds, and all 17 units that faced it and the sea. It was pretty remarkable. Will stay here one day, for sure.
Didn’t get to stay long as most of my time was in Manila. Next year I plan to visit Cebu and stay a little longer.
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Mikey invited me to his photoshoot with a clothing line featured at SM. SM is the equivalent of a Walmart/Sears hybrid. They sell everything and their monster sized stores were everywhere.
The photoshoot was at a rich Chinese-Filipino family’s mansion that owned the clothing line. He brought along Ariana Barouk, who was a TV personality, actress, and former Miss Cuba 2008. Yes, she was Cuban.
For some reason, in the Philippines, all clothing ads always had Cubans or Brazilian models. They rarely had Filipinos. They just kept importing them to live lavish lives in front of the camera.
Ariana was very polite, along with the household hosts. They feverishly wanted to talk about menswear in Canada and how Gotstyle discovers the latest trends are. They also dug the Plain Jane Couture shirt I had.
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At the time I didn’t even know what my niche was yet. I wasn’t on Twitter and didn’t own a blog. I barely knew what social media was. All I did was blog for Gotstyle and get drunk everyday.
I really considered staying in the Philippines and not coming back to Canada. There wasn’t all that much for me back here, and opportunities to stay and work/act/model had presented itself numerous times. However as many of you may know, I don’t like being in front of the camera. I’d rather be the one signing their cheques.
Seeing all the great things Tito Dougs did gave me the urge to do something big. And I wanted to do it starting from scratch.
I love the Philippines and wish I had went back more often. While I know my trip wasn’t all that conventional, I can see many aspects of it that make me really enjoy being there. I’ll be back soon.
