So I went back all the way I came from because my hometown was only 15 miles west from Rotterdam. I drove downtown to the Coolsingel where this huge World Trade Centre had a little officeroom where I was to meet mr. Norberto Aquinaldo Romualdez 3rd.
Somewhere on the 3rd or 4th floor I found a Filipino being buzy with all kinds of boxes and furniture. He appologized for the inconvenience while wiping his sweating forhead and represented as Butch Romualdez. I was not familiar with this name yet.
With enthousiasm I was telling him about me visiting his fatherland and how surprised I was to learn that English was spoken all over. I gained his sympathy when I told him about my plans to settle in the Philippines. He was glad to find out I wasn't just one of the tourists, but that I had some serious intentions to move to the East. His heavy low bass filled and echoed in the almost empty room while he was on the phone talking Tagalog. His voice often bursted in a loud roaring laughter. In between all his activities he told me his personal story about his wife and children, his house in Wassenaar and other private information.
In the mean time he was typing one letter after an other and I was about to suggest to come and visit him at a more convenient moment, when he handed all those epistles to me. He'd been writing all those letters for me!! Maybe 4 or 5 intros to organisations like NBI and PAJA to recomment my expertise as a Judo instructor. Personal letters to friends and relatives of his, and some packets I had to deliver.
I was so surprised by this sudden friendship where I expected to face a diplomatic distance. But no such thing. On the contrary. He invited me to have a look in his new office where he had displayed a various number of Philippine products. He was promoting bamboo and ratan hand-made furniture, clothings, food and fruit and a lot more.
Butch was barking from the other office: “Burt come here...”. He had typed me two more letters. One to the Governor of Laguna and the other to the Governor of Abra, a province all the way up north in Luzon to where I had a trip scheduled. For years already I had supported the Foster Parents organisation to help communities abrought to live a better life. My money had been donated to a barrio in this province Abra and I wanted to see with my very own eyes what was done with it.
The letter to the Governor was to obtaine a Dutch order to produce bamboo saté prickers by the thousands.
Butch, officially Norberto the 3rd, was talking a lot about his late father Norberto 2nd and his aunt Imelda the sister of his old man.
Only then it came to me that aunty Melda was the first lady of the Philippines, the wife of president Ferdinand Marcos..... and I was to meet her not long before she had to flee the palace and leave her shoes behind, hunted by an enraged mob.
The next few weeks I visited Butch several times in his office, but also in his place in Wassenaar when he suffered a painful back which I had to fix. In the mean time I had met with John Mullin, a good friend and colleague of Butch. He visited Rotterdam to get him some orders for his company. He was to fly to Manila one week after me nex month. I made good friends with him and took him on a sightseeing tour to the Delta works along our Dutch coast and invited him for lunch at my fathers place.
He promissed to contact me asa he had landed on MIA , and he did. Later he came to my place in Naic quite often.
With a 25 kg overload suitcase I boarded Philippine Airlines and was about to start a great adventure......
It wasn't my first flight to Asia. Back in 1975 it was my first time to travel these areas when I was on my way to Tokyo to join a Judo apprenticeship. And each time our route was a different one.
Of course there was KLM, a liner straight to Tokyo, charge: US $2500.- . Singapore Airlines and Pal were a lot cheaper to charge $600.- only. These flights took twice as long, up to 24 hrs. And that was due to the many stops we had. The first touchdown after taking of Schiphol Amsterdam could be Brussels already and next stop Geneva. From there to Amman Jordan. Bahrein, Hongkong, Bangkok, Singapore, Manila and finaly Tokyo.
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Kodokan-institute, Tokyo Japan.
I had no problems at all with these stop-overs, cos having an open ticket one could easely interrupt the flight to continue some days or weeks later. And when you're not in a hurry it's a perfect way to meet people and see something.
For sure I unboarded in Bangkok to do the coconut-jungle tour, to visit the crocodile farms and to see the elephants at work in the upper north of the country at Chiang Mai, in 'the golden triangle' near Campuchea where the opium-production is HUGE.
I didn't like the sweet smell of it and regarding the physical condition of the locals it's no good for your health either.
A couple of hours north to Bangkok I took a trip to the river Kwai to see the monument erected to commemorize the POW's killed building of the railroad and bridges during WW2.
This bridge ( blown to pieces by David Niven in the movie...) was rebuild not far from the original location
10 december 1975 . Whoever could have predict that 14 years later I'ld be joining the shooting of 'The return from the river Kwai'
This trip however I was in a hurry, I wanted to get started in Manila and couldn't wait these 20 hrs to pass.
It will always be a special feeling to set foot an tropical soil after staying in the west for some time. It's not just the heat and the troical rain, but also this typical smell that seems to hang around those eastern metropools. Specialy Bangkok gave me a feeling that just ahead of us a truckload of carbage was dumped on the runway. During the rainy season this smell was bearable cos all rotten contents of the sewery systeem were washed away. But then, often the rain came down so heavely that all shit entered the streets so rats and cockroaches crowled all over the place. Manila also had its own smells.
I learned pretty fast that food in those little sari-sari stores was eatable and cheap, much much cheaper then the restaurants in the touristbelt serving international food. I loved taho in the morning and adobe and giniling for lunch. And a bottle of San Miguel would complete the meal. I feld a pinoy already when I could say 'masarap ang kumain' when I was done, which means the food tasted good. I was back in Ermita....
--THE NBI BUILDING--
The next day I started to select Buch's letters. I had bought myself a Manila streetmap so I was able to find my way around. There was a letter to attorney at law Emil Ong, assemblyman and head of the NFA, the National Food Authority. He was holding office in Binondo. I put letter this one second.
On top there was a writing to Joly Bugarin, chief of the NBI, the National Bureau of Investigation and headquarters at Taft avenue, walking distance from Mabinistreet.
I couldn't help being impressed by all those initials and a little nervous I proceded to Taft.
The building wasn't inviting, it looked hostile to me and so did security. I didn't feel at ease at all. It was crowded already this early hour and I hoped they didn't all come to see Bugarin.
Everybody had to report and register. I was the only white guy around at that moment so I was noticed at once. Two armed guards with bad attidude stapped down and started to question me. I told them I came to see their boss, they even wanted to read the letter Butch gave me. “So you are a Judo instructor”? , they reacted.
“Yes,” I was bragging, “I'm here to teach you.”
They were very curious and wanted to know more about it. But I didn't say too much and told them I'ld rather discuss details with their boss... A messenger went into an office, and appeared again to nodd me in.
There was mr Bugarin, as one could expect in a large room, behind a large desk and indeed sitting in a very large leather seat. The man was huge and fat but seemed small due to the extra seize of everything around him. I was offered a seat at a propriate distance of his desk. He looked down at me and allowed me to do my story. Then he nodded one of his disciples to reach him the letter I carried. When he had spelled every word twice and after examining the envelop from the in- and the outside he asked me to come closer. He was interested if I could teach his men useful disarming technics and do something about “those fat bellies”.
I made the mistake to quick-witt that he could join the training...
That very same minute I became 'persona non grata' . He commanded one of his “undergods' to entertain me and show the facilities. I never saw the man again. Better be careful with boys having an -I- in their logogram.
My private undergod invited me to follow him, he smiled at me with some admiration in his eyes as I had teased his boss, which he probably never ever dared doing. We entered the sanctuaries of the NBI. And with opening that door all attitude had gone. There were 'normal' people working at their desks doing their office job.
Then after leaving these dusty and smokey quarters we came to the serene catacombs of the NBI gym. The remote location of the hall, the silence and musty smell where I couldn't define any ingredients to transpiration surmised me that the physical condition of these NBI agents was far from the ideal.
My companion called a name or title and someone showed up from one of the many offices down there.
Now this was the very first time to shake hands with somebody in the NBI building.
I met with mr. Federico Amisola, instructor of the NBI gym and 3rd dan Black belt. He gave me his card. I introduced myself as chief instructor of the IBF and IMAF in Europe 4th dan, and handed him mý callingcard.
At that moment I outranked him and was his superior. And I was sent by his boss.... I had to get used to my very all of a sudden new position and decided to delegate. Now, that's exactly what the man expected, he was waiting his orders. So I told him I wanted to use the gym the net coming weeks for physical training and he was to notify everybody to show up. I opened my (still empty) notebook to schedule it somewhere. Then I suggested a couple of dates and inquired if this would fit his agenda. He seemed to know this game, cos a took his agenda and started to search empty pages as well. After a while he said he could re-arrange some appointments so the gym would be free. Federico started to wright the announcement immediately with a surprising fast two-finger-system.
Content I wanted to leave the place, but he insisted to escort me and buy me a lunch... I couldn't resist.
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I was quite satisfied when I returned to my hotelroom later that afternoon. I was in.
Utang sa loob...
I wondered if I could give the next day a same fruitful start, so I thought it a good idea to contact #2 on my list of letters. All these envelops were open so I could read to which directions he was recommanding me. The NBI letter mentioned my martial arts skills; the one to Emil Ong mentioned my diverse ways of healing and he called me 'helot'. The first time ever I heared the word.
“P.I.Hardware”, said a voice in my telephone, and for a while I thought I dialed the number of a private detective, but it seemed to be Emil in person so I could start my intro-talk. As soon as I mentioned Butch's name the ice broke and I had to tell him all about Betty and the kids. He wanted to hear the latest of his overseas buddy. We set an appointment for later next week cos he needed to visit his province Samar.
I planned to get out of town and spent some days at the beach of Puerta Gallera, by bus to Batangas and from there by boat to the island of Mindoro. Thé place to recover a jetlag............read more..
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