Philippines Foray, Pt. 21

Oh, Manila! What a horrid city!

I have spent the week in Manila, which is more tragic than most urban conglomerations. I have to say that of the three urban centers that I have visited in the developing world (Nairobi and Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso being the others), Manila is by far the worst. It is quite hard to describe why I feel so great an aversion to Manila, but let me try to name a few reasons: one, the pollution is extensive, combined with the heat—awful; second, the stench of sweaty working people compounding with the pollution says enough; third, the lack of street signs in proper places or a complete dearth altogether; fourth, I don’t know if it’s because I am a woman or if all foreigners get this treatment, but the endless cat-calling gets quite tiresome very quickly; and finally, I get the impression that the only reason anyone is in Manila is to work and make money, which is reflected on the derelict state of almost all the cultural things one can find in the metro area. There you have it, some reasons why I only bothered to venture into the city two days out of my week here. I think I have seen enough: Intramuros or the Old City and Chinatown or Binondo.

Intramuros: Dilapidated and Deteriorating Delusion

Let me explain my forceful alliteration. Intramuros is the Old City or the quarter where tourists can see the last vestiges of Spanish influence on the city. Well, let me tell you, there is not much left except a couple of crumbling churches and an old wall that display a little bit of the glory that used to be there. Funny how the pictures make the Old City look so much more glamorous than it actually is. I had a great time in the Old City in spite of the rundown history the city flaunted at every turn. My age-sake on staff and I toured around Intramuros and laughed about the state of everything and took pictures next to the pretty remainders of yesteryear, even climbing the old wall, which upon reflecting on the general orientation and construction of the edifice, my companion said, “No wonder Manila fell to so many people so many times!” It was kind of a puny wall as it stands today. I am not sure how historically accurate it remains, but as of now, her observation hit the nail on the head!

We walked to Rizal Park, which is the home of a large statue in honor of Jose Rizal, the national hero. Surprised to discover that the statue and memorial are guarded with an armed guard, we took pictures and left for the shade of the Chinese Garden, really the only shade in the whole park. Man, it was so hot! And a little old Filipino homeless man had just followed me on a bicycle and told me that he loved me! Again, my travel partner made a precise observation. She said that she has never felt more exposed to the public than this time spent with me. I told her that I couldn’t change who I am, but it is annoying nonetheless that my skin and height automatically set me apart in such a distinctive way. Oh, well, that’s part of the joys of travel, so to speak :)

Binondo: Chinatown and little streets

After our small trek around the Old City, I decided to venture out once more into metro Manila. (I am staying in a town called Marikina, which is technically attached to Manila, but it is a city all on its own.) I had my tourist book and some advice on which jeepneys to take, but of course, I managed to get entirely lost. Maps are great when the streets signs are visible! I had such trouble locating where I was that at one point, I found myself 180 degrees opposite of where I wanted to be. I broke down and took the LRT—their metro system—to where I needed to be. I found the Quiapo Church, known for the Black Nazarene, which came with a Spanish ship in the 1700’s. The church was quite large, attracting many people because of the Black Nazarene and is the sight of extreme religious displays of physical self-abasement, although when I was there only a simple mass was in progress. From this church, I thought I could get myself to Chinatown, but that proved impossible. I hired a tricycle to take me to the next leg of the journey, Binondo Church, which is the entrance to the heart of Chinatown—Ongpin Street. Having made a wrong turn, I also missed this famous street until I caught myself and turned around, managing to locate the elusive path. The street was certainly Chinese and held a certain charm that was familiar in the other Chinatowns I have visited in the States. The only thing I bought were some sticky rice rolls, soymilk and a moon cake, which is quite fascinating because they actually bake an egg yolk in the center. The best thing about Chinatowns is the food, of course. I was happy to see that Binondo was no different. I am satisfied with what I have seen of Manila, having gathered an impression that I will likely never forget.

Lake Taal: From beautiful and serene to long and dusty

One of the days that I spent in Manila, I left the city with one of the women with whom I am staying for the shores of Lake Taal to hike up the volcano that attracts many visitors excited to exit the city for a day. I could instantly perceive that this was a tourist trap. Prices were high and everyone was interested in taking you to the volcano for a steep price, which we ended up paying. It is interesting to compare the touristy areas and the everyday living areas of people. The houses are nicer and the prices are higher, so one can see that tourism does have a good effect on the local economy. I guess when you look at it that way, paying a slightly higher price is not too bad.

We picked up a guy on the side of the road who worked for one of the hotels, trying to connect with tourists and bring them to their facilities. I think he promised too much, but he was nice and we followed him to his hotel. After hiring the boat, we took a 20-minute ride to the volcano, passing other smaller volcanoes and rock formations. Most people hire horses, which were just chilling out at the bottom, waiting for passengers. I wanted to walk, and I persuaded my companion to make the easy trek with me. The ground was sand, which made the walk a little challenging, and my companion was definitely not prepared. One of the horse guides perceived that she was on the fence of whether to take the horse or not. He pestered her until the very top, where she finally caved in and took the horse. I just shook my head at the Filipino culture of wearing someone down until he/she accepts the offer. (This is the method that all Filipino salespeople use. If you show any indecision, they will continue to lurk until you break down and buy whatever they are selling. It gets a little tiresome after a while.)

The view from the top was exquisite. We had a view of the deep sulfuric crater and a pleasant panorama of the surrounding rock formations rising from the clear waters of Lake Taal. Someone at the top was selling fresh and cold buko (young coconut), which we enjoyed before descending. I met a very friendly French girl who is my age and who was traveling around Southeast Asia all by herself. It was so much fun to speak in French and to meet someone who was traveling alone. It always encourages me to see females taking the risk to travel to foreign places without a lot of conveniences. She ended up spending the afternoon with us as we drove to a small town called Taal.

My guidebook had made Taal sound like such a great place to visit. It is the home of the biggest Catholic Church in Asia, but beyond that, it was as simple of a town as the many I had previously seen. It took us two hours to get there, so all in all, we traveled four hours out of our way to see a less-than-spectacular town. Even though we wasted precious time and even more precious gas, it would not have been so bad had our car not broken down on the way back. We wasted our car’s energy on the Taal trip that when we arrived back at Tagaytay—the entry point for going to Lake Taal—our car was dead. We thought we could make the two-hour trip back to Manila, but our car kept stalling and quitting. We inched forward, praying that whenever we stopped that we would stop in a safe place. The Lord Jesus really provided for us because we never stalled in the middle of traffic or where there wasn’t a place that we could stop and pull over. Many nice people helped us, including the police officers at a tollbooth that we had not intended to use. (In fact, what had been a mistake in navigation ended up being our saving grace because we had wonderful help and access to a full-service gas station.) From the tollbooth, we stalled again on the side of the road, about 200 meters from the nearest gas station. My companion left and I watched the car. She came back with two mechanics that were able to superficially clean up the car to the point where we could at least drive it without worrying about it stalling every other minute.

The mechanics told us that we should not drive it in rush hour, which was the time we found ourselves stuck at the gas station. I fell asleep in the back because I was powerless to do anything, so I decided it would be good to just take a nap. We discovered that neither of us had any money to put gas in the car, so we left the gas station with less than a ¼ of a gas tank and a car that was leaking fuel. My companion had a friend who was relatively nearby where we stopped and took enough money to fill up the tank. Unfortunately, the gas station was far away, and we had to drive even more on an almost-empty gas tank. Man! What a crazy adventure, but the Lord really provided and we got to the gas station with no problems. After six hours of transit, triple the normal amount, we arrived personally unscathed. Thank you, Jesus!

The rest of the week :)

For the remainder of the week, I chose to relax and meet up with one of my former students who lived in the area. We had a great time walking along the small river in the area and getting halo-halo in the market. I even had the opportunity to see where she lives and to meet her family, which was really special. I have really enjoyed getting to know people’s families and the places they call home because it has added a really special dimension to my travels. I have learned so much from these short stays and physical displays of hospitality. I had a great week, and when the time came for me to pick up my mom on Sunday night, I was ready not only to leave Manila but also to exit the Philippines. How wonderful it was that I had one more week to immerse myself in the beauty of provincial Philippines.