The Tale of the Creepy Taho Vendor!

 It was a Saturday in the DMST, busy with cadets training. They were seperated into groups, some outdoors, some indoors, each going over various subjects in preparation for an upcoming event. Plenty to keep a photographer busy with. I was walking to the next station when I saw a taho vendor walking along the asphalt road a little past the Cadets Lounge. Feeling thirsty, I stopped him and asked for a cup of taho, giving him a ten peso coin.

            Taho is a warm soy drink, to which a bit of syrup and tapioca bubbles are added for better flavor and texture. When taho is fresh, the stainless steel canisters are full of steaming white taho, a smooth surface only broken when the vendor takes shallow scoops with an angled spoon, pouring it into a cheap plastic cup.  He stops short of it being full, then flips open the lid on the smaller canister, and uses a smaller dipper to pour in the rich syrup and pale tapioca bubbles. Then he wipes the sticky rim of the cup on a clean rag up by the strong wire straps that connect the canisters to the long piece of wood he uses to carry the taho. Sometimes he'll give a plastic spoon with the taho, sometimes he's out of them. You can drink it either way.

            My friends explained to me, the first time I tried it, that taho can only be cooked a particular way. If its made wrong, or with bad water, then it won't be solid and it wont be taho. Also, food vendors are only allowed into UP after getting a special permit – so the street food inside campus is generally safe.

            The wrinkled, stooped old man in clean, new-looking clothes grinned and accepted my coin, and his reach wobbled towards his wares. He lifted the lid of the canister and hung it on the side of the can by a hook inside the lid. As he started pouring the taho into the plastic cup, something got my attention.

            The taho was broken up and watery, looking more like cottage cheese in a sad, cold broth than the warm soy drink I was familiar with. I realized – at the very least, he hadn't poured out the water that accumulated on the surface of the taho, like most vendors do. Wherever a taho vendor makes a cup of taho, he first skims the water off the surface with his spoon and throws it out, leaving a streak that the odd cat or other animals might enjoy the taste of. But the only water on the ground was from the old man's unsteady hands, the broken up bits of taho and watery whitish soup spilling over the sides of the spoon in its long journey to the plastic cup.

            "Uh, is that okay?" I asked him. He just grinned and kept on pouring. I'd asked in English and well... couldn't quite ask in Tagalog at the time. But even then, he grinned and poured his sloppy mess. As the cup neared full, he stopped, and flipped open the lid to the smaller canister. He pulled out the long dipper and – dear goodness, there was his mutant taho in there too! The syrup in the canister was not a deep, rich brown, but had been watered down to an orangey-yellow, and even the tapioca hadn't gone unmolested. The messy not-taho stuff was everywhere.

            The wrinkled old man grinned and his eyes sparkled as he presented me with my... order.

            

            What is this stuff? I quickly snapped a picture of it. I sniffed it. It smelled... not as tasty as taho. I took a sip. Shouldn't have. It was too watery and even the syrup could hardly be felt. I snapped another picture of it. If I die from this!

            At the long classroom, a squad practicing arnis were on their break so I wandered over and asked Valdez: "Is this safe to drink?"

            After a bit of explaining how it was funny-bad-taho, she realized it looked strange too. There were bubbles in it – not the tapioca bubbles but bubbles in the water, all throughout the thing.

            The old man had slowly made his way over by then, and she called him and asked to see the taho. He kept a grin, set down his canisters, and started scooping the watery slop into a plastic cup. Valdez leaned out the door as far as she could go to look into the canister, her hand on the door frame so she wouldn't take a step out of the room. There was still a cadet officer in the room.

            "Wuh-oh!" She told him to stop pouring 'taho', but he grinned and kept on going.

            A few more cadets began to crowd around the door, chatting. The creepy old man presented Valdez with a cup. Reluctantly, she gave him a coin and examined what she'd... bought.

            "Yeah, its not good."

            Just then, Pan made his way through the small crowd to the door. "Taho!" he happily noticed and pulled out his wallet. "Who wants taho?" he called back to his classmates. "Six po!" he told the old man.

            We tried to warn him but by then the old man had happily poured two of the cups, sploshing a mess of watery curdling taho and odds and ends all over the cement where he stood. Pan realized his mistake and called for the old man to stop, but he grinned and kept pouring.

            At this point, I was done taking pictures of the strange taho. I started taking pictures of the old man.  He might've been a little deaf, but by this point we knew he was pretending to be more deaf than he really was. Snap. Snap. Snap. This dangerous and creepy little old taho vendor needed to be documented. What if someone gets sick from this stuff? 

           I took a few more snaps for good measure, until finally they got him to stop pouring.

            In the end, most just threw the stuff away and got back to practice. Others saw the old man, wandering around the area for the rest of the day. Whatever was going on, maybe he had reason to grin. He was selling taho that wasn't made right, using his mask of feeble hearing as a way to force the unsuspecting to pay for something that wasn't safe to eat. I took note of his shirt – it looked brand new, and rather clean. It had some arabic and middle-eastern things on it. I don't know where he came from, and I don't think he was one of the normal UP taho vendors.

            But if you're ever in the area, and find this old man while seeking refreshments – be careful. What he sells might be as safe as spoiled milk.

Sad News

Now that finals are over, and its vacation, I'll get back to posting.
My cameras- both the small digicam and my DSLR - have been stolen. The CIDU (Criminal Investigation Detection Unit) are investigating, and so far they've been incredibly helpful though the thief has yet to be found. For the last two training days of the year, I borrowed Ryan Arana's camera. He's the new Corps Commander. Those two days were the Change of Command, 2011, and the second part of RAATI (the annual competition and grading of the various ROTC units across the Philippines). Pretty big events. And sadly, it feels really different to be using someone else's camera instead of my own.


Regarding the theft of my cameras:

I stayed at 91 Xavierville Avenue, Nueve Uno Building dormitory from December 1, 2010 to March 31, 2011, in a room for two but without a roommate for all but a single day of my stay there.
On March 1, 2011, at about 9-10am, Ms. Sylvia 'Biang' Cruz allowed a woman named 'Marge Balmaceda' and a maid into my room at Nueve Uno Bldg without my knowledge (she says she sent a text to what was then my broken cellphone number). 'Marge' was supposed to be my new roommate, and had paid in a check that day. The check had not yet cleared. Two hours later, the maid left my room and shortly after that 'Marge' left the building with a paper bag 'full of clothes'.

When I returned to my room, my locked cashbox inside a locked drawer had been pried open, and all my cash and even coins were missing. Also taken were my Blackberry handset and two Olympus digital cameras - one digicam and one DSLR, in total estimated worth about $1,000 USD.

Ms. Biang Cruz was initially very unaccomodating, going so far as to wipe the fingerprints off my cashbox while enlightening me on the corrupt and inefficient practices of police and barangay officers regarding thefts.
When a very helpful team of investigators and SOCO (Scene of the Crime Operatives - think Philippine CSI) showed up,  she then proceeded to insist in every way that the theft was not her fault. She blamed me for being unkind to the guards (as though a lack of communication justifies theft), she blamed the guards for not doing their job properly (but isn't it her job to tell them what she needs them to do?), she even tried to force the police to go away, but thankfully they don't need bribes to do their work.

On the lit signboard in front of the building, Nueve Uno Building is advertised as a place 'where comfort and security meet'. I assure you, you will find neither there.
Conveniently for someone, the CCTV has yet to be set up, the bag check is like what you'd expect at a mall, and the list of appliances and serial numbers provided to Mam and the guard to prevent theft of one's appliances is clearly not used.  Ms. Biang failed to clear the check or even get a copy of 'Marge's ID before allowing her unattended into my room.
When you get a room at Nueve Uno Bldg, Ms. Biang will assure you three times over that there are only TWO keys to your room - the key she gives you and the key she keeps. None of her maintenance, staff, guards, or anyone else has a spare key into the room, and it is up to you to make youself a spare key as well. She will promise you that nobody will be allowed into your room unattended, that when she shows your room to prospective new roomates, she will be there to keep an eye on things too. She restricts friends or relatives from going upstairs unless its on the day you're looking around or moving in. Heck, the friends who came to help me move out weren't even allowed to go up to my room with me, and after two small boxes, the maintenance staff just stood around downstairs. Ironically, the new guard opened every single suitcase and box in the lobby in an attempt to inspect that resulted in a mess that even the TSA wouldn' make! He literally used to be the janitor.
Her explanation for the restrictions was that she'd made sure to learn all the various methods used for thefts in dormitories, and this was her solution to them. Riiight. And regarding my lost items, Ms. Biang happily cited a part of the contract that states she is not liable in any way, for any loss or damages.


Oh, and the M.O. the thief used - to pay in a check that will bounce so they can get in to steal stuff- is commonly used, according to the police.
And when the cash box was dusted for prints, all that showed up were the long, streaking smears courtesy of Ms. Sylvia 'Biang' Cruz.

I don't know who to blame more - the fake roommate or her. Who knows? Maybe they work together.


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MEANWHILE
I'm looking for a SAFER, MORE SECURE place to live for next year. And saving up for a new DSLR. My dad said he might buy me a new one when I graduate - in 2013.
And I'm reading up on photography. Haven't taken a class for it since 2001 and that was with black and white film. If I'm going to save up for a DSLR, I better know how to make the most use of it this time around.

Until then, this blog won't be lacking in material - I've still got all the loads of pictures I took over the past year to sift through.

Next:
The Tale of the Creepy Taho Vendor!

What is this stuff?