Spy Movies Could Save Your Life

If you are like me, you gain marginal enjoyment from spy movies. They aren’t the most exciting thing in the theater at the time, but you’re still willing to shell out the cash to actually go see it in the theater as long as you’re going with a group of friends who really want to see it. Plus sides to the outing top out at Brad Pitt (Spy Games, Mr. & Mrs. Smith) or Matt Damon (the Bourne series, of course) being more than pretty bodies running around with pretty faces while they dazzle you with important sounding words that leave you confused as to whether it’s a place, obscure terrorist organization, or some dude’s last name. Of course, with the thrilling plots and action sequences there are always the low moments in spy movie history (Steven Segal’s entire career, anything that Leslie Neilson spoofed). But what’s so great about spy movies is that even the terrible ones have some educational value.

I have only just recently come to this realization, and only because I have spent an extensive amount of time traveling outside of the US. I am ecstatic because I have always gained marginal enjoyment from them anyway, and now that I know how much of a treasure trove of useful information they are I will attend with much more vigor. Here are a few tidbits of gold for all you American tourists out there, all learned from spy movies.

1. Blend in. Assimilate, as it were. Or try really, really hard to. If you’re in a country where you can’t (you’re a 5’9” blonde with blue eyes in Thailand, for example) pick a nationality you could look like and go with that one – ie: stick a Canadian or Swedish flag on the backpack you take everywhere with you, and do your best to fake the Canadian/Swedish-English accent to the taxi driver. If you’re really paranoid, you could even go so far as to buy the Lonely Planet guide to fill-in-the-blank in said language and stick it conspicuously in the back mesh pocket.

2. When exchanging money, or paying for something at a window, like a subway ticket, don’t drop your change everywhere as you try to stuff it hurriedly into your wallet because you are embarrassed that you were the only one in line who didn’t know the exact change needed to pay. The sound of heavy coins bouncing every which way will only make you stick out more.

3. Carry an umbrella everywhere. Even if it’s 104 outside and there isn’t a cloud in sight. Everyone else in the world does it, so if you do it too it won’t be as easy to identify you as an American.

4. If you wake up from your nap in the sun on a remote, tropical island and find that the KGB has freaking relocated their operation to Ko Samet and decided to take every umbrella and seat around you for a 20 yard radius, and as you blink and stare groggily around one of them thrusts a cigarette in your face (not unlike a gesture of offering), what do you do?? That’s right, you take it. You take it, and you smoke it, and you smoke it gladly and gratefully… And then you go back to your room and hack up your lung.

Okay, so maybe these weren’t exactly like spy movies, but the part about blending is. Bottom line here: either learn some Svenska phrases or pick up social smoking so you don’t look like a complete douche-bag when the “cross cultural bonding” opportunity presents itself. There is nothing like turning purple and doing that little hack/wheeze/cough that could make you look like any less badass. Bourne never hacked. Bourne had ten different passports and perfect dialects to go with them all. What do I have? Well, I did hang out with the KGB on vacation.

Cliches, Pinoy Style

Just some little tidbits of brilliance from my Pinoy friends.

- What is it to me to you?
- When it rains its four
- Long leggedness legs (Miss Philippines at Miss Universe pageant, in response to prompter’s question, “what do you think is your attribute?”)
- We’ll burn that bridge when we cross it
- Looks can be deserving
- You can’t judge a book by each other
- Alma mother
- What’s up for that?
- I’m tell you no, you do, now look at!
- You want something drinks? Or Waiter – can you bring us something drinks?
- Come, let’s join us!
- Well, well, well, look do we have here?
- Because you can never can tell
- So far so good so far!
- That’s what I’m talking about it
- True good to be true
- Once in a new moon
- No holes barred
- Keep your mouth shocked
- Please don’t make fond of me
- The more you hate the more you laugh
- At’s if
- It’s just the tip of the icing
- Here’s more to come
- Connect me if I’m wrong
- I hope you don’t mine
- I want to portrait that role
- The nerd (instead of, ‘the nerve’)
- Give me alone
- I won’t stoop down to my level
- You are so questionable
- I don’t eat meat. I am not a carnival
- That is why I am successful, I don’t middle in other people’s lives
- You can fool me once, twice, even thrice but you can never fool me four
- Keyrec! (correct!)
- Are we fit? (will we all fit? – as in, getting around a dinner table or into an elevator)
- Starsbuck (yes, the coffee place)

Dedicated to Carol and Ms. J, who never judge a book with each other and don't mine the long leggedness legs American joining their daily Starsbuck runs to get something drinks. ;)

If You Can Play Mario Kart, You Can Drive In Manila

In fact, that might actually be the “simulator” they use when assessing driving skills and abilities – think naval aviators in zero gravity, G-force, virtual reality simulator machines, Filipino style. Which, of course, translates perfectly into being chased by Donkey Kong driving a rickshaw, honking madly while blindly changing lanes and throwing apples and mushrooms at whatever/whoever is in the way… It’s scary, to say the least.

The first thing I noticed was that the horn is more of a rite of passage on Philippine roads than it is in New York City. It often takes the place of blinkers, actually. Blinkers are way too proactive. No, it’s much easier for the 1982 Kia to just start merging in front of a city bus and then start honking madly as if to say, “you will let me iiiiiiinnnnn!”

It wasn’t long after the horns that I realized the ominous lack of traffic lights. This epiphany was brought on by the sheer terror that seized my mind and body when the hotel taxi driver picked me up from the airport on my first trip to Manila. Approximately 300 yards out of the airport gates he turned left into oncoming traffic without any hesitation or apparent fear whatsoever. I reached for the nonexistent Oh-Shit! handles thinking my death was imminent, and then watched in fascination as cars, busses, and Jeepneys just started slowing down as he honked his way across four lanes.

Another noteworthy observation is that the roads and “highways” in the Philippines are not at all unlike the windy, random, and hazardous roads of Mario Kart. For a third world country, Manila is a pretty prosperous and fast-growing city. As a result, buildings popped up everywhere with no plan or structure to the layout of the city, and as such there are tiny little byways that loop around in every which direction and somehow end up merging out into a major road. I’m telling you, this city is next to impossible to navigate as a foreigner. The taxi drivers we get around the city constantly amaze me. The other day I took one to the mall to go souvenir shopping and the guy squeezed between two cement road blocks to go on a basketball court-sized, completely open and unlined section under a highway ramp. Once we got to the other side I realized there was a tiny road leading out through two more giant cement road blocks that was basically an on ramp to another, bigger road. WTF. This was an actual, designated road! He didn’t just get creative and hope some barriers to get the Americans to their destination. Crazy.

My boss and I have decided that in an effort to maintain our sanity while on the roads of Manila, time in the car should either be spent talking on the cell phone or engaged in deeply heated debates so as to take our attention away from the dozens of death-defying maneuvers our drivers are pulling out of their asses. So far it has worked – all of the events have turned into hilarious story material rather than trips to hospitals. Most of the taxi drivers here just keep a rosary hanging from their rear view mirror, and rub it frantically every time they fly around a blind corner or thrust themselves within a centimeter of an on-coming bus. I thought they should be throwing the oil slicked rags or pineapple bombs out their windows, but then again, I was never very good at Mario Kart.