Evan Iliadis blog

Culture shock.

Culture shock.

More than a year has passed already, both me and Stella on the go every day early in the morning, driving her “farmer’s car” as she called her preferred multicab Suzuki 4X4. We visit her lands in preparation for the “big project” plantation of trees on 30 hectares that is.

An adventure I had never thought she could handle with such ease, provided the area is remote. 4X4 cars can only go as close as 2 kilometers, meaning walking the rest of the distance no big deal. Still, transportation of seedlings, fertilizers, and other materials had to be done on carabao. Culture shock.

Myself driving another ” Passenger” multicab,  I bought it new, made in the Philippines!… What a joke!.. Equipped with a Suzuki engine, but the rest was a total rip-off. 13 years later, it still runs but with crutches!..

Anyway, I had to handle the 400 mahogany and other standing tree species I bought. I met daily in the forest with my favorite chainsaw man Armand, an artist in his trade, known as “the electronic precision” tree trunk slicer, doing with a Sthill brand chainsaw slicing trees 50 centimeters in diameter.

Once done, I made daily trips to Cebu for machinery and accessories. I set up a shop making a reproduction of classic French designs, massive wood parquet tiles, furniture, and other woodwork in quantities limited to my personal needs. Social life was limited, no time, a few drinks with a small number of foreigners living in the area, mostly good people but felt a bit shocked to see a number of them in their 50’s and 60’s  even 70’s with wives in their 20’s, felt a bit sorry for the girls when reading the embarrassment on their faces and the artificial, I’d say fake manners and fabricated forced expressions to look happy during the gatherings. They weren’t. Remember, we are in Bohol, not in Cebu. Local boys were making fun of them, and editorialists in the local newspapers also said this kind of foreigner wasn’t welcomed.

I’ll never forget that day about a scene in the SuperCat boat going to Cebu when all eyes of the passengers were turned towards a couple with a baby. He was an American in his 60’s, short, skinny, and bald; his sunburned skin made him look even older.

The girl looked in her teens, had a small body, was short also, had very dark skin, and was shy. She looked like she still worked in the rice field with that baby maybe days or maxi a few weeks old in her arms. It wasn’t something the locals had seen often.  The couple did not exchange a single conversation during the 2-hour trip.. Talk about enthusiasm…

Life in Bohol becomes boring after a while. The beauty of Panglao Island entertains tourists, including sex tourists, with imported “entertainers” from Cebu, Manila and other provinces. However, when one lives there and has visited the place countless times, it’s time for renewal of interests.

The choice isn’t easy. Locals aren’t happy with you, especially when you live in a gated house on a land of 3000 sq. meters with a securely built fence. They used to cross this land to reach a destination a few minutes faster, but now they have to go around, and that bothered them.

But slowly this issue was resolved; diplomacy and “beautiful eyes” manners beat the hostility of those who wanted to paint us “the neighborhood’s new conquistadors”. But for once, I wasn’t an “Amerikano”, as white skin foreigners are called regardless of their nationality; I was privileged to be called   “The Griego” referring to my ethnic background, even though I was the holder of a US Passport and known as a US citizen to the PH immigration.

looking through the fence, kids passing by on the way to school wearing “chinilas” (Cheap plastic sandals) and walking 3 kilometers to reach the elementary school brought me back to my childhood in Greece, that childhood, whatever could be in a bloody civil war that had just ended. Culture shock. 

I learned later from the teachers that many had not had breakfast before going to school. A few hundred meters outside the north side of my fence, an old lady in her late 70s, living alone, was sharing the basic food when available to her (Rice and salted fish) with two mentally retarded in their 40’s. Some of the neighbors came to my house and ask if I could help. Read the rest of the story here

Next in a few days : The Rotary International years