Photos et lettres des Philippines, de France et d'ailleurs

On June 19, I flew to Manila where I arrived at 5:30 pm but by the time to wait for my luggage and exit the airport; it was already over 6 pm. I then had to queue to take a taxi to get to the Rothmans hotel in the district of Ermita, to check in and to leave my baggage there. Then I had to go to Mandaluyong at the Shangri-la Mall to retrieve a remote control sent ten months earlier to be repaired. I finally reached my destination at 8 pm after enduring for more than an hour the whining of a taxi driver who complained of the traffic jams most likely to get a good tip. Annoyed I told him that if after 10 years of taxi in Manila he was not yet accustomed to the heavy traffic, he needed to change his job.

Fortunately, the home theater store was closing only at 9 pm and I finally got my remote in exchange for the payment of 8000 pesos (120 euros). I have to say a big thank you to Rotel for their lack of commercial sense and reactivity. It is true that despite having little used it, my device was out of warranty.
I decided to dine there and once again I was struck by the great disparity of wealth in this country. What a contrast between the affluent yuppies in all the restaurants of this luxury mall and the poor people are my neighborhood near Dumaguete.
Around 9 pm I tried to take a taxi back to the hotel but I had to wait for 45 minutes. Once seated after a while, I pointed out to the driver that he had forgotten to put on his meter, contritely he switches it on and I asked him if it was the color of my skin and the size of my nose that causes his amnesia.
Once arrived I went straight to bed because the next day was I was leaving to France and I had to take my breakfast at 8 am with my sister-in-law who was staying in the city for a seminar.
After lunch I went to the Manila airport and once again I had to raise my voice to make the taxi driver put his meter on.
Like going to Manila, on my return trip I was flying with Qatar Airlines with a first leg from Manila to Doha, four hours of waiting time, and then a second leg from Doha to Paris. It is a good company but we have to choose our days of the week for a minimum of waiting in Doha for the connecting flight.
In addition to the pleasure of finding again my family and friends, this is not unpleasant to return on a 21 of June in France, the first day of summer and Father's Day.
It was sunny and warm for three weeks and I took advantage of my folks, friends and of course, some drinks and BBQs.

(A summer Sunday)

My wife still had  eight days vacations left to take so on July 12 we took the road to  the North Finistère, 620 km from home. The drive mainly on highway with a good weather and little traffic was fine. We made just as usual a lunch stop at l'auberge de l'écu in the town of Jugon-les-Lacs, Côtes d'Armor. The food and the reception were good and the prices reasonable.
We arrived around 4 pm on the Trémazan shore near Portsall and Ploudalmézeau where our friends lend us a small house by the sea. It is a beautiful place, with certainly often a harsh climate though never cold, but we love it and we have had here very enjoyable times with our kids and our friends.

(The Trémazan shore)

The nearby port of Portsall have had the sad privilege of having to undergo one of the largest environmental disasters in history when in March 1978, the tanker Amoco Cadiz spilled its 260 000 tons of Iranian crude oil on the coast of Brittany. My friend Charly of Dumaguete, then a young military helped to clean up the rugged coastline spattered with this ugly black mud.

(The Amoco Cadiz anchor in Portsall)

(Porsall at low tide)

We know our friends T… and C.... for over 25 years and we met them in Paris through his brother-in-law and his wife, sister of C… also our long-time friends.
He, the pure Breton, and she, the Filipina from a wealthy family of Manila, fell in love with each other in Macau where she was teaching English and he was maintaining medical equipment on behalf of a French company. They married and returned to France, where after the birth of their first child they decided to go working in Gabon.
They prospered for ten years, T… in his profession ... and C ... by creating a nursery for the expatriates'children of all nationalities. They had a second child and all went for the best until his car accident.

He was hospitalized and operated in Africa but as his condition was still too serious he was repatriated in France and underwent surgery again in a Paris hospital. When young, he looked like Charles Bronson but in more handsome, now he was left with a disabled left leg and had to quit his job in Gabon. However technically left behind in his profession after ten years spent in Africa, he had to find another way to earn a living.
It is in the Northern Finistère near the family farm that they settled. They borrowed the money and constructed a building with all the necessary equipment to receive and force-feed around 2000 ducks concurrently. They became a key link in the chain of foie gras.

(The family farm)

(The hydrangea flowers of the farm)

The ducks are born and grow outdoors somewhere in the south-west of France and then they are brought by truck to Brittany where for two weeks they are given 2 meals per day. Their livers then grow from 60-70 grams to 600-700 grams. They are then returned to their place of origin to be slaughtered. Nothing is lost in the duck, of course the liver but also the meat for fillet and even the feathers are used for quilts etc.
It should be noted that only males are force-fed because they are silent while the females are rather talkative. Their cacophony of quack! quack! would be untenable in the enclosed area of a building.
It is a very hard work, tiring and dirty. C… is always the one to feed them up the first meal at about 3 am, in all weathers and often in the mud of rainy Brittany. She has to be seen, wrapped in her work clothes with a bonnet on her head and her feet in boots to understand the long way travelled by this urban and educated woman that nothing in her youth had prepared for such a tough life in the depths of Brittany, where her step-mother and aunt still wear wool socks and wooden clogs.

Twelve hours later in the afternoon it is the turn of T…to feed the ducks almost in the same attire as his wife.

A few years ago, I was invited to a dinner also attended  by the Philippines Ambassador in France when the conversation moved towards the adaptability of Filipinos abroad.  I then held up the case of our C… friend and his ducks as an example for that ability.
Their lives could have continued like that, hard but good , but it seems that some people are unlucky enough to accumulate many misfortunes and T… and C…are among the unfortunate ones. It was many years after his car accident that T ... discovered that in Africa he had also received a serious illness with his blood transfusion. Thus a difficult and tiring medical treatment followed and most of the work of the business fell on the shoulders of his wife until he finally recovered

It should have been enough for them but recently he had a stroke which fortunately left no after-effect but again during his illness she had to do everything besides her worries and sorrow.
This year it is the global economic crisis that affects them and in 2009 the ducks will be less than before to enjoy the invigorating climate of Brittany.
Now their children are adults so after feeding the ducks, C ... gives English lessons in some primary schools of the region to take her mind off the daily routine and meet people.

Her courage during her ordeals made her admired by all and it is not anything on the part of these Bretons as tough as their climate and the ocean that surrounds them.

(The Iroise sea)

(The Saint Samson chapel)

Our eight-day holiday passed quickly and we spent them walking by the sea and also meeting our friends, including a couple who had a house before in our village of theVexin and since their retirement now live in Saint Pabu near Trémazan and where we are always warmly welcome. It is good my wife always drive on our way back. It's safer that way…

(Our strolls)

Saturday July 18, the eve of our return, we had with T…a farewell dinner in an excellent restaurant of the area that is le jardin de l'Aber in Breles.
Sunday at 8 pm we were already the road towards our house with a nice dry weather and little traffic therefore at 2 pm we were at home when our son was waiting for us with a good plate of spaghetti bolognaise.