Dogbert’s Whip

“Don’t (sic) it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.”

– Joni Mitchell in “Big Yellow Taxi”

I have always maintained that I’m pretty good at arithmetic. Whenever I dine out with my friends, I make it a point to mentally compute the exact amount that each person has to pay – up to two decimal places at that! – before anybody can come up a figure using the calculator of their cellular phones. I don’t really know why I do it; it’s probably a bad habit that I developed over the years. Some people unconsciously bite their finger nails. In my case, I do mental arithmetic. Let’s just leave it that way for the moment.

In most instances, my mental calculating ability has somewhat worked to my advantage. Because of it, people have the generalized impression that I’m really good at math. Well, I’m probably “above average” when it comes to the subject adored by Euler and Pythagoras. However, being great at it is something quite remote. Heck, I don’t even remember the formula for calculating the volume of a sphere as I write this. And if ever you’ll meet my calculus professors and ask them about me, they’ll probably give you a clueless gaze and ask, “Uhmmm… Dennis who?”

The negative effects of my so-called mental ability have never been apparent in the past, until I arrived in Norway last Sunday night. My colleagues have warned me about the steep cost of living in Scandanavia but nothing has prepared me for this reality.

Upon arrival at the Bergen airport, I made my way to the nearest ATM machine to withdraw some cash.“Minimum withdrawal is 500 NOK (Norwegian kroner).” This message flashed on the screen even before I could plug-in my PIN number. In my mind, it meant: “It’s going to be a heck lot more costly in this country, buddy, and so you better stack up the cash!” I chose the option to withdraw 2,000 NOK and made the beeline to the information counter.

In one of the sheets of paper posted on the information board, I learned that it took 5.8 NOK to 1US$. With my arithmetic brain cells working on overdrive, I realized that I just withdrew about 345 US$ (~344.83 US$). Making another mental calculation, I sighed, “Goodbye, 16,550 pesos!” (Assuming that 48 PhP = 1 US$, then 345 US$ is roughly equal to 16551.72 PhP.)

Before I embarked on this European journey, I asked a couple of my friends who have been to this continent if I should bring cold weather gear. Most of them assured me that since it is spring at this time of the year, the weather should be pleasant or at the most, tolerable. Stepping out of the airport terminal, my light jacket was no match to the chilly wind that bashed me like a mini-slap. As I struggled to secure my jacket closed, I suddenly realized that it’s the height of summer in the gool ‘ol Pinas. Ah, to stroll down the beach with nothing as much as a pair of shorts and rubber flip flops. That could have been very nice. But instead, I’m shivering in the land of the Vikings and the fjords as I hailed a cab to take me to my hotel.

The taxi ride didn’t even last for more than fifteen minutes, but in my mind, it seemed like an eternity. The taxi meter was piling up a kroner every two seconds or so. When the cab driver finally pulled over infront of the hotel, the meter read 321 NOK! I just couldn’t believe it. It’s just too darn expensive in Norway. In Manila, there’s no way I’ll ever pay a 300 PhP taxi fare even if I happen to get trapped in perilous EDSA traffic. With trembling fingers, I fished out a 500 NOK bill from my deflated wallet and handed it over to the driver. In my mind, I said, “Wow! I just took a 55 US$ taxi ride!” It did not hit me that hard until I mentally calculated the second round of convertions. “Leche! 2,700 pesos din yun! Argh!!”

It was way past eleven in the evening when I finally settled myself in the hotel. Looking out of my window, I observed the view around me – buildings with magnificent architecture stand on cobble stone walks that line the banks of a pristine river – not bad at all. It somehow makes up for the expensive taxi ride that robbed me big time. But then, I suddenly felt the effects of having to take four plane rides stretched over 24 hours just to get here. You see, companies will always go for the cheapest flights for their employees. It’s all a matter of plain economics over comfort. And so, I took a flight from Manila à Hong Kong, then HK à Incheon, South Korea, moving to SK à Amsterdam, and finally, AMS à Bergen, Norway. Too sum it up, only two adjectives can describe at that point: exhausted and famished.

Braving the cold once more, I set out for the 7-11 outlet that the receptionist in the front desk claimed was just “a few blocks from the hotel if you turn left.” The few blocks turned out to be a fifteen minute brisk walk, and when I finally got to the 7-11, a long queue has formed outside of the convenience store. It turns out that there was only one person manning the whole store, and that meant having to wait your turn to just even enter. It’s times like these that you realize and appreciate the immense comforts you get at home. At least in Manila, you never have to wait in line just to get inside the store.

After about 25 minutes in the cold, I finally got inside the 7-11. However, I had to wait for another 20 minutes before the lone guy in charge of the store punched the two items I took – a slice of ham pizza and a bottle of water – in the cash register. “Sixty kroner please,” he said looking all harassed and haggard. “Sixty?” I asked sheepishly, swallowing a mouthful of my saliva in the process. “Yes, sixty,” he repeated, sounding impatient now.

I stepped out of the store and took a wolf bite out of my pizza. I was so darn hungry that I finished the whole thing in four bites. The bottle of water did not stand a chance, too. I gulped everything down in seconds, not wasting a drop. And I didn’t even stop to breathe. As I discarded the rubbish in the bin, I had reminded myself not to do any mental maths from now on. You know; just to spare me from the hurt and bleeding. As one of my well-traveled friends succinctly told me over Yahoo Messenger: “Mahal talaga doon so don’t compare!”

However, old habits don’t die easily. “Puta little love away naman!!! (“everybody needs a penny for a rainy day… put a little love away…”) 500 pesos din yun! Grabe isang slice lang yun, tapos di pa masarap! Sa ginastos ko, isang buong Super Supreme family size na sana yun sa Pizza Hut sa Pinas, may kasama pang soft drinks. Argh!!!”

This entry was posted on Wednesday, May 2nd, 2007 at 5:53 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.