New Year's Eve in the Philippines

Since it's 12/31, I should mention that New Year's Eve in the Philippines is a fun, and always explosive event. Tons of San Miguel beer, many parties, great food, family gatherings, and lots and lots of fireworks. Both official city celebrations and thousands of people on the streets launch fireworks in the sky and/or at each other. The smoke is so thick from the fireworks that the lack of visibility causes major airports to close. The mayor of Manila recently suggested residents skip the fireworks and bang pots and pans instead. Good luck with that.

During my year in the Philippines, I spent New Year's Eve in the city of Cebu, in the central Visayan islands. Together with a few of my fellow AIESEC trainees, we wandered the town, getting invited to a couple large family celebrations which obligated us to eat two huge meals. We road in the back of a pickup truck across town, unwittingly offering ourselves as big white targets for many little kids with bottle rockets. We teamed with a beautiful but depressed Chinese woman and an exile from Miami to go to an empty nightclub. We figured it was just as well that it was empty, because it was the sort of place where they had to post a sign saying "please check your firearms and weapons at the door." Despite being orphans for the evening, we became enough of a family together to enjoy our night.

For the long version of the story, check out this chapter from my epic work in progress.

People love squirrels

I recently published a Philippine travel story in the San Francisco Chronicle. I detailed exotic beaches, luxury hotels, kayaking, diving, hiking, rare river dolphins, history, politics, and gave travel tips. But what did all the readers write in about? The squirrel. My story talks about my seeing a recently discovered species of white squirrel on a remote island, and for some reason people across America emailed me to say that they, too, had seen white squirrels and/or chipmunks in their areas. Weird. Maybe I should write a squirrel book instead of a basketball book?

backboard montage

Someone needs to come up with a coffee table book based solely on backboards as seen in the Philippines. They're a pretty good summary of the country, scenery, and people, because after all, life is basketball, right?
Fancy net with beads braided into it, palm tree above, as seen on the resort island of Miniloc, Palawan

Fish drying on tarps on the basketball court, near Taytay. Often the basketball court is the only flat, clean place in town.

"Air Safari" backboard, behind barbed wire outside of airport in Manila. Hopefully the anti-aircraft explosions illustrated on the board aren't foreshadowing your flight.

and one from outside a shanty area in a harbor, put together with sticks and twigs, and still sturdy enough to host games

more to come....

Dolphins have hops, too

Ok, not much to do with basketball, but just had my eco-toursim article on Palawan island published in the prestigious Expat Magazine in Manila. If you squint, you can see the dolphin hopping out of the water in the screen shot of my article to the left. I think dolphins probably could be trained to play some sort of water-basketball. And sure enough, a quick search on youtube shows this is true. I'm going to bet on the dolphins vs. the sea lions in that game.

The squirrel in the lower right corner is some newly discovered species that hasn't even been named yet. Saw it in a cage in some remote island off the coast of Taytay. And the bird in the left corner is a hornbill, not an eagle as the magazine mis-labeled it. And thus launches my new career in wilderness photography.

I'll also have an article on Philippine ecotourism published in an upcoming SF Chronicle travel section, as well as a couple blurbs into the December issue of Islands Magazine. So perhaps the Philippines is going to start getting some publicity as a tourist destination.

And just to make sure I'm keeping the focus on all things basketball & the Philippines, below is a shot of a basketball game on the deck of a docked freighter ship, taken during my recent ecotoursim travels. Seems to be some sort of irrepressible desire for Filipinos to play the game by whatever means necessary. Would loved to have seen a game at high seas, it'd add a whole new dimension to the sport. And could be yet another Olympics basketball category in which Filipinos would be assured of a gold medal. (in addition to flip-flop-wearing basketball).

walkin' like larry

When I first went to the Philippines, I had "open zipper syndrome." That is to say so many people stared at me when I walked down the street, I kept looking down to see if my fly was open.

It was just that sometimes I forgot I was a walking freak show, a white guy strolling through neighborhoods that tourists never visited. I tried to act normal, act like a local, but like Joe Pesci in My Cousin Vinnie, I just didn't blend.

So my mental coping mechanism, in this nation crazy for basketball, was to imagine I was Larry Bird. My thinking was that Larry Bird always stood out in a crowd, literally because he was 6'9", and because of his fame. But he didn't seem to let it bother him. I figured if I took this same attitude, I would keep my composure. This worked a little bit. And sometimes it didn't, like the time I came across the duck ladies.

Please don't shoot me in the face

On my recent trip to Manila, I grabbed a couple drinks with a Dutch AIESEC trainee, just to see if his life was as crazy as mine had been. My earlier posts detail the AIESEC organization that sent me to the Philippines for my one-year assignment. Our merry band of international students and recent grads got into all sorts of trouble back then, and I imagined it probably wasn't too different nowadays.

Sure enough, the latest news is that several trainees had been arrested, one for urinating in public, a couple others for taking a swim in the fountain in front of the Peninsula hotel. While I can't imagine getting arrested in the Philippines can be a good experience, it probably beats getting shot in the face, a fate I narrowly avoided during one of my AIESEC goofs back in the day: Read The Wrong Wall

The photo above is I believe of a Bushmaster automatic submachine gun, it was sitting in the backseat of a town mayor's landcruiser when I hitched a ride during my recent trip. Just a subtle reminder that hijinks can go bad in a hurry in the Philippines.

Nuns, strippers, and hoops. What's not to like?

Rarely does one get to see strippers and nuns hanging out in the same venue. Not to mention dancing transvestites, cows, and a rogue bottle of ethyl alcohol doing a jig. Yes, it's professional basketball in the Philippines, and everyone comes out (no pun intended) to see the action.

Unlike the U.S., where teams have city affiliation, Philippine teams are pretty much all based in Manila. They have goofy sponsors, ranging from milk companies to gin distilleries, to a team called the "Beermen." Nice.

People were into the games, but not to the point of hooliganism. Fans brought English/Tagalog signs, and chanted songs to support their teams. One old dude with an extremely red face was standing up and spouting off a serious of insults which had our whole section in hysterics. I did catch his english commentary targeted at the "import" American player for one team: "You're no good! Return to sender! Your visa revoked!

Everyone was doing their own thing, unified by the common interest of basketball. They should integrate it into their national anthem or something: "From the farthest island, to the Sulu sea, together we'll dribble and pass and shoot for a three." (Ok, I'm still working on that.) Still, if you're looking to get the quintessential Philippine experience, skip the museums and go to a game while you're there.

Basketball banned in Manila?!

This just in: Basketball is banned in Manila! The national sport is doomed!! No, actually the headline refers to a recent ban on street games which block traffic. Good luck with that one.

Having just returned from Manila, I can attest they have a lot bigger problems with traffic than a few street games. Still, the article is pretty funny, especially the quote from the mayor which reminds people that "roads were constructed to provide easy access to motorists in going to and from their destinations." They're also "also designed to interconnect with each other to ease traffic flow." Thanks, mayor.

(I checked this headline in the local Philippine papers, and they don't include the goofy quote, but I still think the mayor may have said it)

Manila, Philippines (AHN) 8/20/07-- The mayor of the Philippine capital Manila on Monday ordered a ban on street basketball saying playing the popular ball game in the middle of the streets endangered both the players and motorists. Mayor Alfredo Lim directed Carlos Baltazar, the chief of Manila's department of public services, to serve notice to all village chiefs to enforce the ban.

The order also asks village chiefs to remove all basketball courts that have been put up in the middle of the streets or major thoroughfares.

Basketball is the most popular ball game in the Philippines and it is very common for basketball courts to be constructed in the middle of the streets.

But Lim said motorists have been complaining about the practice because some streets were rendered impassable after player shut them down from end to end when playing the game, especially if there is on-going "street ball tournaments." In some instances, fights have broken out between the passing motorist and the players.

The mayor is asking for the cooperation of basketball enthusiasts to heed the ban and allow motorists to pass along their streets because those streets belong to vehicles. He said the city government had constructed sports complexes in strategic places where basketball fans can play the game.

He further explained that streets, roads and thoroughfares were constructed to provide easy access to motorists in going to and from their destinations. They were also designed to interconnect with each other to ease traffic flow.

Basketball & Safari

On my recent Philippine trip I visited what has to be the world's weirdest African wildlife sanctuary: Ferdinand Marco's former game preserve on Calauit Island. There giraffes and zebras wander the Philippine countryside, sharing their habitat with local animals including deer, monkeys, some weird porcupine species, and really big spiders. The giraffe on the left is munching a mango. Apparently they love the fruit, which is good, because the staff has almost no money to provide for them.

And of course, there's a basketball angle to this story. The island of Calauit is remote even for the Philippines: it's off the northern coast of Palawan, which is itself considered the "last frontier of the Philippines." The nearest small airport is a bouncy 4-hour jeep ride away from the northern coast, from where you have to find a local fisherman with an outrigger to ferry you over. Generator power only runs four hours a day on Calauit, and no running water was to be had. But the night I stayed there, during the brief period of electricity, the staff gathered to watch a tape of the final basketball game of the PBA championships on the island's only TV.

Staff basketball games are held every Monday on the home-made (but regulation size) dirt court near the game warden's house, with the warden always playing his favorite position of point guard.

For the record, the island manager says the ex-dictator Marcos did not bring the animals to the island for him and his buddies to hunt. It was just Ferdinand's pure environmental concern for the fauna of Africa....

there's something about roundball

Is there really a market for a book about a clueless American learning about a foreign culture via basketball?

As I was wondering about the potential of my own book, I spotted this new entry into the rapidly expanding genre: Away Games--My Season of Misadventures in Czech Semi-Pro basketball. Nice.

It's not due out 'till November, but I'll be sure to snag a copy when it hits the bookstores, it sounds pretty entertaining: a sub-6-foot-tall law-school-bound collegian decides to take a year off and pursure his dream of playing basketball for whoever will have him.

And...another recent entry into the hoops-abroad market, written by an ex-NBA scrub by the name of Paul Shirley, is entitled: Can I Keep My Jersey?: 11 Teams, 5 Countries, and 4 Years in My Life as a Basketball Vagabond .

Reviews are mixed, ranging from "wildly entertaining," to "250 pages of complaining," so I guess now I'll actually have to buy it and decide for myself. I've seen some of his blog posts on ESPN.com, and they have some pretty amusing slice-of-life stories about playing abroad, and some good cameo appearances by "where are they now" NBA players surfacing in the Spanish D-League and other sketchy places.

Regardless of their literary merit or place on the best seller list, both these books show that there's something about roundball that continues to connect people from around the world.

Another Philippine Hoops Writer!

It's good to know I'm not the only American writer with an odd fascination with Philippine basketball.

On my recent Manila trip, I met up with Rafe Bartholomew, like me, an American working on a Filipino basketball-themed book. Except rather than accidentally tumbling into the subject (and the country) like I did, he actually intentionally applied for a Fulbright Scholarship to go to the Philippines and research basketball.

He followed the season of the PBA team the Alaska Aces (nee Milkmen) chronicling their efforts to become league champions. And despite his gloomy expression in the photo above, it was good to see his book will have a happy ending (see my posting below--spoiler alert!)

Rafe has written about Philippine basketball for the NY Times and Slate, among other places, so it's good to see there's a market for the topic. While my basketball-themed stories of the Philippines are in the context of a travel adventure, his writing concentrates on the sport itself. So I was happy I didn't have to kill Rafe off to protect my market, as he's a good guy. Hopefully next year at this time, our books will be linked on Amazon, saying "if you like this one...then be sure to buy..."

back from manila

Long blogging absence, but I'm just back from nearly a month in the Philippines, in which I gathered some local color for my book, researched a travel article for the SF Chronicle, and went to see game 4 of the PBA pro basketball championships in Araneta Colisseum, the venue for the famous "Thrilla in Manila" Ali-Frazier boxing match in 1975.


The game was another "thrilla" between the Alaska Aces (formerly known as the Milkmen, as they're sponsored by a dairy company) and the Talk-N-Text Phone Pals (sponsered by a cellphone service provider)

The Milkmen triumphed that night, and hung on to win the seven game series over the hated Phone Pals. Perhaps the Milkmen won because of the spiritual support of their cow mascot (above)? Or maybe by breathing some fumes from their Ethyl Alcohol mascot?!! (below)

Along with mascot-watching, the game and the fans were both good entertainment. Raucous supporters from both sides dressed in team colors, chanted and waved signs (written in both English and Tagalog--sometimes both in the same sign). Contrasting sign insults included "Talk-N-Text...No Signal!" and "Alaska...Breast Milk is Better!"

Following the game, in my typical clueless travelling style, I went out to catch the train back to my hotel in the business district of Makati. Nobody told me train service finished at 10PM. Then I marched out to the main highway of EDSA to suck diesel fumes for a half hour while I tried to catch a cab without success. It finally dawned on me to go back to the stadium and wait in front of the mall for a cab like all the other fans did. Amazing how that works...

Expat Magazine story

My basketball story "The Politics of Pickup in Manila" is appearing in this month's issue of Expat Magazine in the Philippines. The page has a nice layout with a few of my photos, including this view of me holding a basketball in front of a coconut tree with a hoop attached to it (the tree, not my chest). You probably can't see it in the photo, but my chest has a big rash and some cuts, as I had just climbed and then slid down another coconut tree. I'm really not very bright...

The recently launched Expat mag as described by its editor, Jude Defensor:

"Expat Travel & Lifestyle is a 140-page glossy, oversized magazine – and the first magazine devoted to expat life in the Philippines. Published quarterly, Expat Travel & Lifestyle is a must-read for expats and people with a passion for life in the Philippines. Regular sections include travel (foreign and local), business, real estate and property, lifestyle and culture, health and fitness, fashion and beauty, and so much more. Our cover story for the June issue is on the top airline executives working in the country and the overall theme for the issue is “high-flyers”. Expat Travel & Lifestyle is exclusively distributed by Emerald Headway Distributors, Inc., and is now available at magazine stands, bookstores, supermarkets and other retail outlets. For subscriptions, call: (02) 647-4744 or 647-4766 or email: ehdi@pldtdsl.net "

Hopefully with my featured story, the mag is now the talk of Manila. If I can get a better link which is actually readable, I'll connect to that one instead of the blurry jpeg page.

Truth is Stranger than Fiction

I've had a few people suggest to me that I novelize my story, turn my Philippine experience into fiction, or at least one of those "based on fact" things. That way I could manipulate the story however I wanted, throw in some extra drama, whatever it might take to sell a few more copies.

A couple years ago I met Marc Salzman, author of Iron and Silk, which is a "year abroad" story in China framed with a martial arts theme (much as my year-abroad story is framed with a hoops theme). His book is a good one, and he managed to get it made into a movie. But when I met him, he was moping due to the movie's poor results. "Guess I needed more sex & violence," he told me.

I suppose I could turn my story into some sort of Rambo-type story of a hoops player fighting Al Qaeda in the jungles of Mindanao, (which actually sounds like it might be pretty funny), but given the already crazy nature of my experiences during my year in Manila, it wouldn't seem like I'd need to fictionalize things to create drama. If coup attempts, martial law, bombings, kidnappings, an earthquake, volcanic eruption, and having soldiers rob me isn't enough action to entertain the reader, then I should probably quit as an author. (click to read about one of my "just another night in Manila" scenes)

Besides, if I wrote about something like the Hobbit House, a bar in Manila staffed almost entirely by dwarves (photo to the left), and put it in a novel, people would tell me the story isn't believable. But in non-fiction, especially in the Philippines, truth is often stranger (and more entertaining) than fiction.

The Height Issue

It's a bit ironic, and somewhat par for the course, that the Philippines selected a national sport in which it has little chance in succeeding internationally, (1954 world championship bronze aside). In basketball, it's good to be quick, agile, and practiced at the skills of shooting, dribbling, and passing. Which many Filipinos are. However it's better to be tall, and quick, agile, and practiced at the skills of shooting, dribbling, and passing. Which most Filipinos aren't.

A columnist for the Philipine Inquirer discovered this height issue, and declared that "basketball is not for Filipinos." He suggests the government should support development of "sports" like chess, bowling, and billiards. This makes Filipinos seem like the small, sickly children of Asia.

And not that I want to disrespect all the bowlers out there, but it's a bit sad when a country's government declares a bowler to be the "Greatest National Athlete of All Time" The guy was skilled, sure, but not exactly Jim Thorpe material.

How 'bout boxing as a national sport? Manny Pacquiao, the "Pac Man" is a national sensationan and the latest in a long line of world champions from the Philippines. Which means Filipinos may not be able to out-jump you on the court, but they can probably kick your ass.

Among the best in the world

I always tell people if Olympic basketball was played on a 15-foot tall rim, and all the players had to wear flip-flops, the Philippines would win the gold medal every time.

Across the country I would regularly see extraordinary performances by little barefoot kids on concrete courts who would run circles around my plodding efforts to keep hold of the basketball.

As a side note, the Philippines did win the bronze medal for basketball at the 1954 world championships. I can't confirm footwear.

Romance in a nation of extremes

The Philippines is a country of extremes. You have the ultra-rich living in walled compounds, while the poor survive in the filth of shanty towns. The country has the beauty of white sand beaches, but also the toxic rivers and open sewage of Manila.

As a clueless American guy just out of college, women in the Philippnes represented the same set of extremes to me. They were either the prostitutes of the red light districts that I didn't want to have anything to do with (see left), or they were the ultra-conservative Catholic University girls who didn't want to have anything to do with me.

So imagine my surprise when the cutest girl at a college welcoming party invited me to her house one night, telling me her parents wouldn’t be home. In the U.S, this would have been a clear sign that there was going to be some romance. I should have been delighted. But this was the Philippines, and as usual, I had no idea what was going on.

-- to see how this turned out (think airball not dunk) click on this link to see a sample chapter from Dunked in Manila

basketball & basketbrawls

When I played in a basketball league in Manila, it seemed like every game I was elbowed, pushed and shoved without the referees calling a foul. When I complained, the refs basically said "it's ok, you're bigger than them, deal with it."

One day I lost my temper, flipped some guy on the floor, and a big shoving match broke out, with people screaming at me in Tagalog and Chinese. I didn't think it was a big deal until a week later, when some street kid I had never seen before pointed me out to his friends as "the American who fights everyone."

I realized then I wasn't just another player in the league, but willing or not, I was a representative for my country.

But at least my international sports brawl didn't turn out like this one in Japan.

The more things change...

I've had a couple questions about publishing a non-fiction book set in 1990-1991. Do the issues and storylines of my story still matter? Haven't the Philippines and the world situation completely changed since then? Who cares about what happened to some dude 17 years ago?

Although downtown Makati is almost unrecognizable from back in the day, with new skyscrapers, restaurants, and malls, other items in the daily news make you wonder if anything has changed at all.

In the weeks prior to my original arrival in the Philippines in 1990, Peace Corps volunteers were kidnapped, and Americans were killed, prompting extensive warnings against travelling to the country. Unfortunately, it just happened again.

And the story I wrote in a prior post about hundreds of people living in a massive Manila trash dump? Well, the dump has moved, but as an article in last December's Harpers Magazine described, the people just followed the trash.

Politics are still crazy, with the same Jokers involved. The the overthrow of the government after the EDSA protests of '86 were followed by the sequel of EDSA2 in 2001 . I experienced martial law a few times in 90-91, last year they just called it a "state of emergency." And Anti-American protests, continue to be part of Philippine news.

And so the question remains--how does a person travel and live abroad in a place like the Philippines during these troubled times? How does the reality on the ground contrast to the nightly drama featured on CNN? And how did a clueless American like myself bridge the gap between cultures and come out of all this turmoil not only surviving, but thriving in the experience. For that story, you'll have to read Dunked in Manila (just as soon as I stop screwing around on a blog and actually finish writing the book)

Sports as a window to cultures

The running theme in my Dunked in Manila book is the use of sports as a window into a foreign culture. I found the more I immersed myself in basketball in the Philippines, the better I understood life off the court.

I've enjoyed reading about the sports-travel-culture connection in a number of good books, including one on hoops (Big Game, Small World) one on soccer in Italy (The Miracle of Castel Di Sangro), and baseball in Japan (You Gotta have Wa - and in my recent SF Chronicle article).

Hopefully my book will get added to this small but growing pantheon of sportravelogues.

and for a sequel? How about loincloth volleyball in Burma?

Tip Off

I dug in my bag for my hat. A couple local college students were scheduled to meet me upon arrival at Manila airport. To be certain they’d recognize me, I had faxed ahead that I would be wearing a baseball cap from my hometown Chicago Bulls. Hat on head, brim bent to a sporty angle, I charged out the doors and into my new life.

It began with a blast of hot, humid air and a scene from Beatlemania news footage. Outside the baggage area, a waving, shouting crowd pushed against every angle of a sagging barrier, seemingly about to burst right on top of me. I felt like I was the last Balikbayan box on a small carousel. I had to fight the urge to flee. Entire sections of the crowd erupted screaming, pointing and shoving each time they saw a relation emerge from the doors. My calm began to erode as I scanned the crowd for my college student hosts.

Suddenly, to my left, I heard cries of "Hey Joe! Hey Joe! Americano! Oy! Ssssssssst." When I turned, the group became frantic, one man climbing the barrier, trying to get to me first. As a security guard yanked the first man back, I noticed the taxi sign in his hand, and understood my new popularity.

I hesitated behind the barriers a moment longer, dreading my departure from the protected area. Already, a group of the taxi drivers had triangulated my exit point, and were jostling for position. With my head down and suitcase forward, I fought my way through the taxi mob, through the scrums of extended families, and out to the street. Where for the first time in my life, I saw horizontal rain. And no welcoming committee.

for more of chapter one, click here

The Politics of Pickup in Manila

I was surprised to discover basketball was the national sport of the Philippines. It seemed like every telephone pole, every palm tree had a basketball backboard attached. Games were everywhere. As a clueless foreigner, it was my entry into their culture. How could I join?

While standing at the edge of a basketball court watching the game in progress, I pondered the politics of pickup in Manila. Did I need to bring my own team to a pickup game? Did I need a formal invite, a recommendation, a reference? Was it an exclusive neighborhood only event? A league? Did I have to win on another court before I qualified to play on this one? At a loss for what to do, I just stood there trying to look tall, hoping someone would see me and throw me the ball.

To see how this early effort turned out, read: http://www.geocities.com/billfink2004/PoliticsofPickupinManila.html

The Great Manila Trashcan Debacle

The Philippine capital of Manila was the infamous home of a massive steaming garbage dump nicknamed "Smoky Mountain." Until it closed several years ago, hundreds of families lived on and around the dump, surviving on food scraps, trying to make a few pesos repairing and reselling refuse.

During my yearlong stay in Manila, I joined the "Junior Rotarians," a student-run charitable offshoot of the local Rotary Club. When they announced a project to help the poor of Smoky Mountain, I volunteered.

While normal life at Smoky Mountain was miserable, some- times it crossed into the realm of the abysmally tragic. Three weeks before my arrival, an open cooking fire had spread, burning down a section of Tondo, the nearby shanty town, killing dozens. Without running water, no one could stop the flames.

In this setting the noble Junior Rotarians stepped up and a day of service was declared to help the hapless Smoky Mountaineers.

I joined the assembly in the parking lot of the Bel Air Country Club. Empty trash can-size oil drums filled the lot. About 25 volunteers painted some cans bright red and filled others with sand.

"What exactly are we doing here?" I asked Jojo, the group coordinator.

"The Junior Rotarians are donating this fire-prevention equipment to the poor in the Tondo neighborhood," he answered.

I looked for some sign of hoses, portable pumps, fire extinguishers, even a squirt gun, but saw nothing.

"What equipment?"

"All around you! We're filling these cans with sand the Tondoites can use to dump on fires. The sand won't attract mosquitoes like water would, which means we're saving them from malaria as well."

"So essentially, we're giving away trash cans?" I asked.

"Yes."

"To people who live in a trash dump?"

"Um, yes ... But we're painting them bright red! They'll stop fires!"

see how this turned out by clinking to the link of my story in the San Francisco Chronicle
http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2006/03/19/CMGU9GJ0CF1.DTL

Book status

So what is the status of the book?

In basketball lingo, I'm setting up to take a shot. It's no layup or dunk, but I think I have a good angle at scoring.

I've written about 75,000 words of text (about 200 pages), I have a formal book propoal that I'm getting ready to send out to literary agents. I met a bunch of them at the ASJA national conference last week. Some seemed quite interested in the project, others sceptical about how well this book can sell. So as I track my book's progress to completion and publication on this blog, I'll also be tracking the popularity of the themes of this book around the internet, and see what sort of community is out there that'd be interested in plopping down the money to read this story.

How did I get "Dunked in Manila?"

I went to Manila on a one year internship through an international business club called AIESEC, which is a French acronym meaning something along the lines of "please send me somewhere cool to get a job." (Actually, it stands for Association Internationale des Etudiants en Sciences Economiques et Commerciales).

Prior to graduating from the University of Michigan with a degree in Japanese Studies and Comparative Literature, I landed an internship with IBM in Japan.

Why would a comp.lit major work for IBM? Well, as my dad often pointed out, it's tough to open a comparative literature store. Unfortunately, IBM Japan, the sponsor, wanted me to come to Tokyo before I my studies were done. IBM Philippines didn't really care when I showed up. So I was dunked in Manila.

And so the troubles began...The AIESEC program depends on cooperation between corporate sponsors and local university student clubs. Most exchanges work out quite well. From the vandalized sign in the photo, you can see that one of the trainees didn't like the local Ateneo club too much. AIESEC Ateneo had stuck him with a resentful host family who tried to get him to leave by refusing to let him bathe in the house or change his sheets. The Ateneo students just laughed at his dilemma, so as a parting shot he (ok, we) climbed this sign and repainted a bit.

If you know Manila, you'll know the corner of EDSA & Ortegas doesn't look like this anymore, and I'm presuming AIESEC Ateneo has undergone improvements as well. I can't vouch for the other vandalizing trainee, but my experience in Manila changed me for the better.

My book Dunked in Manila follows the story of how a clueless American like myself learned how to "play ball" both figuratively and literally during some difficult times in the Philippines. Think of the story as "The Year of Living Dangerously" meets "Hoop Dreams."