Manila Proper

During November of 2014, I had the opportunity to spend eight days with my girlfriend, Cams, in the Philippines. After seven months of being apart from her, I had accumulated enough vacation leave and extra money to make the trek east.

I spent weeks leading up to the flight nervously anticipating our reunion. Questions such as how will we be around each other after being apart for so long, whether or not I would adjust to the climate and time difference, and if her family and friends would like me routinely tormented my mind. Prior to my flight, winter had arrived in Northern Virginia with its bitter cold, and I was eager to escape to a warmer place. As I collected my boarding documents and travel belongings, I meditated on what I wanted to do on the trip. My goals were simple: take lots of pictures, be in the moment with Cams, and have an open mind throughout the experience.

Depending on which airline you take, the trip to the Philippines is normally a two or three step process. Most flight itineraries include a twelve hour marathon flight to Japan, followed by a shorter four hour jaunt to Manila. I took All Nippon Airways roundtrip, as it had the most direct route and cheapest airfare. 

After my roommate, Tri, dropped me off at Dulles International Airport at dawn, the subsequent rigmarole of baggage check, TSA security inspection, and boarding was relatively painless. One hour before takeoff, I was vigilantly checking the weather report, as snow was beginning to accumulate on the runway. Once we boarded, we sat in the plane while they de-iced the wings.  Finally after waiting an hour, we were at cruising altitude on our way to Narita International Airport in Tokyo. Twelve hours’ worth of movies, in-flight meals, and refiltered air in a confined space made me somewhat restless, dehydrated, and irritable, but my conversations with my seat neighbor helped pass the time. I never did catch his name, but he was an Indian man on his way to Singapore, his current home. He explained that he worked in IT for Hewlett-Packard and bounced between Seattle, Singapore, and India every couple months.  We shared an insightful discussion on cultural differences between the East and West, and how religions in India are able to coexist without much animosity or dysfunction (He is a practicing Hindu but many of his friends are Buddhist or Islam). The rest of the passengers appeared to be Asian executive types, Filipino titos and titas, and student aged kids like me on holiday.

I noticed an immediate difference flying ANA in comparison with American airlines. On American airlines, you often feel that your mere presence on the plane is a hassle, and that any request would be an inconvenience to the crew. I judge this by the brusque manner and impatient tone of the flight crew. Maybe it would be different flying first class. However, on ANA, the crew was polite, patient, and good-natured the entire time.

After I got through customs in Tokyo, I was ready for my next leg of the trip. I only had 40 minutes to get to hurry to catch my flight to Manila, but I was able to do a bit of window shopping on the way. Like most large airports, the inside of Narita features the soul-deadening consumerism of a fashion mall, with major retailers and large food chains along each terminal. Business as usual in the US, but it was just as disheartening to see more of the same.

On the Tokyo to Manila flight, the passenger sitting next to me provided me one last reminder of home. A US ex-Marine currently living in Seattle,  he intimated to me that he was visiting the PI to see a few of his “girlfriends,” a not-so-subtle moniker that white expatriates have for Filipinas in which they have relations, sexual or otherwise. I put in my headphones, and watched airplane TV for the rest of the trip.

After I exited the aircraft, I was worried about getting through the renowned labyrinth known as Ninoy Aquino International Airport, but I had no problems getting through customs and finding my baggage. Cams was waiting for me with outstretched arms near the gate, and we shared a long-awaited, warmhearted embrace before heading out of the airport.

 

The first major contrast between Manila and the US was the traffic. As the highways are brooding and unpredictable at any time of day, defensive driving is the norm, and staying in some sense of traffic flow is rare. Motorbikes weave in and out of traffic and drivers regularly cut each other off to gain an extra inch of space. Buses swerve in front of moving vehicles to get in a specific lane, while drivers jockey for positioning in crowded intersections. Jeepneys (Filipino mass public transport vehicles) routinely stop in the road to drop off or pick up passengers. Basic US conceptions of traffic decorum (maintain safe distance between cars, avoid blocking intersections, use horn only if necessary) are nonexistent.

As Cams deftly snaked her way through the traffic on EDSA, one of the major highway systems in Manila, another immediate difference I observed was the sheer volume of people in the street. Whether it was a peddler or a hitchhiker, the line between the sidewalk and the road is blurred. If I recall correctly, when driving in Manila, one runs the risk of sideswiping a pedestrian or errant vehicle on a regular basis. This put me in a somewhat uneasy mood any time I was in the car.

By the time we arrived at where I was to stay, I was feeling jet-lagged, famished, but excited to finally be in Manila with Cams. Thankfully, she had taken care of housing accommodations, and I stayed in her aunt’s vacant apartment in Fort Bonifacio (or Bonifacio Global City). Highly commercialized and urban, the area evoked images of the LA Skyline in miniature. Her aunt’s apartment overlooked a posh golf course, and the amenities included a rooftop infinity pool.  

 Manila sunset, view from Fairways tower

 

That night, I was able to unwind with Cams and grab a slice of pizza at a nearby restaurant before resting up for the next day. Cams had scheduled an action-packed week for us, so it was crucial that I try to sleep before venturing out.

After a somewhat restless sleep, Cams and I grabbed a hearty brunch close to my apartment. I was still groggy from the flight; as I was to meet her extended family for the first time that evening, we agreed that we would spend the day resting. However, Cams surprised me and took me to a lights show. As an overwhelmingly Christian nation, the Christmas spirit runs high, and holiday lights shows are popular in malls, parks, and open spaces throughout the PI. That evening, I received a warm Filipino welcome from her father’s side of the family. I feasted on homemade Filipino cuisine, and afterwards, played a few tunes on her auntie’s piano. After saying our goodbyes to the family, Cams and I headed back to Fort Bonifacio to rest for the night.

 

The next day, we headed to the beaches of Batangas. Ed and Celize, Cams’ friends, accompanied us southward to our resort at dawn, and Ed drove his pickup truck. Cams and I decided we needed a nap on the way, but the bumpy roads, combined with the visual overload of tropical landscapes and approaching barangays (Filipino for villages) prevented me from getting a wink of sleep.  I wanted to take in as many sights and sounds as I possibly could.  Our first stop was Jollibbee, the Philippines’ fast food answer to McDonalds, complete with rice meals and their own pop theme songs. We also stopped on the side of the road to hail a man selling taho, a sweet tofu comfort food. He carried the two buckets of taho with a stick across his back, and scooped the taho into clear, plastic cups with a ladle. I slurped the taho out of the cup as it cooled.

The mestizo gets some fresh taho.

As we traveled deeper into the rural, more jungly parts of Luzon, I saw the vast levels of poverty that affect millions of Filipinos. I can’t say that I understand all of the ways that poverty impacts one’s quality of life, but I did notice that many families live in dwellings that barely function as houses, children often beg for change from cars passing through their towns, and that the lack of development and infrastructure in many rural areas compound the problems.

 

By the time we pulled up the steep driveway of our beach, I was ready to unwind. But first, I surveyed our lodging for the next two days. Palm Beach Resort sat on the sandy, palm tree-dotted coastline of the South China Sea. It advertised itself as a family resort, and I noticed only a few international travelers during our stay there. Our upper level room came with a balcony that overlooked the beach. I enjoyed the mom & pop feel of the place, as opposed to a more touristy, party-oriented atmosphere.

After a Filipino lunch buffet and a brief nap, we decided to take advantage of the mild weather, and took a dip in the pool. Whiskey and beers on the balcony with Ed and Celize followed soon after, and by the time the dinner call came, the sun had already sunk below the horizon. Unbeknownst to me, my thoughtful girlfriend had prepared a private surprise dinner by the beach. We arrived at the table by candlelight. Waves crashed in the foreground, while a gentle breeze caressed our faces. The stars hung low in the sky, and I really enjoyed sharing that moment with Cams. It was one of the most perfect and peaceful nights I have ever experienced.

 

I lamented that we only had one night in Batangas, but by mid-morning the next day, we were all packed to head back towards Manila. Our next stop would be Alabang, a commercial center 13 miles south of Manila. We stayed at the Azumi Boutique Hotel, an upscale high rise hotel not far from Alabang Town Center. Besides being plagued with some brief bouts of severe hunger, our stay was pleasant. We watched a few of my favorite movies, including Pee Wee’s Big Adventure and Some Like It Hot. Overall, it was an opportunity to spend some alone time with Cams.

Our next destination was Bacolod in Negros, my Lolo’s (Filipino for grandfather) home province. We traveled Cebu Air, and the in-flight gameshows (the Philippines is noted for its affection for gameshows) were very entertaining, even though my Tagalog is poor. Once we exited the Bacolod-Silay airport, the heat was very oppressive. The airport staff directed us towards a cab and we found one that would take us to our hotel.

One of the compelling things on the trip was that our airport taxi driver’s mannerisms reminded me of my Lolo. His hands looked very similar, and he did this clicking thing with his mouth when he appeared to be thinking. As the Silay-Bacolod area is the sugar cane capital of the Philippines, my first sights of my Lolo’s homeland were agrarian, rural, untampered by industry. The two lane roads were juxtaposed by endless sugar cane fields that stretched all the way to the mountains.

 

Before we headed to our hotel, we both agreed that we should eat some local fare before we got too hungry. Cams chose Aida’s Chicken, a hole-in-the-wall type place that serves authentic chicken inasal. I ate the crispy, marinated grilled chicken with my bare hands, and washed the meal down with a San Miguel Lite.  Extremely satisfied with our meal, we taxied to our destination, L’Fisher Hotel Bacolod, a 70’s style hotel in the middle of town.  

When we first got to the room, we were worried that the air conditioning was broken at first, but realized that our key card activated the thermostat. By the afternoon, the warmer temperatures, the flight to Bacolod and my daily bout with jet lag had sapped my energy, so we spent most of the day in our room out of the heat.

Our full day in Bacolod was a big adventure. We first toured The Ruins in Talisay City, a sugar baron mansion built by Don Lacson, and subsequently gutted by the US in World War II. I found the house to be quite the relic from Spanish colonial occupation, but I feared the sun was getting the best of me, so we headed back to the cab after an hour or so.

The Ruins, Bacolod

 

A 30 minute drive brought us to the Negros Museum in Negros Occidental, my Lolo’s birthplace. The museum spans the various colonial occupations of Negros (Spanish, British, US, Japanese) and celebrates Negrense culture. Although the museum appeared to be a bit outdated, I found it to be a more accurate account of the people’s history and culture. Also, they had a unique display of toys around the world as well. We grabbed sandwiches at the museum café, and headed out of town.

We both wanted to see the some of the heritage houses, so we directed our cab driver in the direction of Silay. The first house was antiquated and unmemorable, but when we walked in the second house, we we were greeted by the owner, Ramon Hofilena. Ramon’s tour was just as much a guide to Filipino culture as it was the story of his life. The house serves as the backdrop where Mr. Hofilena dazzles guests with long tales from his days as a swimsuit model, New York actor, and suave Casanova. Seeking air conditioning and hoping that our taxi driver hadn’t left us, we left halfway through the tour.

One of the interesting parts of the day was the interactions with our taxi driver. Cams was suspicious that we were being overcharged for our cab fares because we were tourists. She tried to bargain with the driver, as he never turned his meter on, and had decided one fixed price before he agreed to take us. In spite of his high rates, he turned out to be very helpful, insightful, and even knew of a Delumpa (my grandparent’s last name) that worked at a university in Negros.

That night, we went to the poolside bar at the hotel.  There were mangos and pineapples behind the bar. Cams and I ordered mango margaritas, which come to find out, came with complimentary refills. When the evening chill came, we swam about in the pool to warm up. We went back up to the room and I drank a bit more, while Cams sobered up.

The next morning we made our return trip to Manila, and I lamented the fact that my trip and my time with Cams were slowly coming to an end.  We had lunch with her parents, and met up with her friends that evening at a bar in Metro Manila.

On my last full day in Manila I picked up some gifts for my family. We stopped by a tourist store at SM Aura, one of the big shopping malls in Manila. I got a black pearl bracelet for my mom, a jeepney shirt for my brother and his girlfriend, and some dried mangos for my dad. There was a somber tone to the day, as Cams and I realized that we would be separated by oceans once again. We shared supper at a nearby American restaurant in Fort Bonifacio before spending some final hours together before packing for my Friday early morning flight.

I feel that traveling to the Philippines opened up a new world to me. Cams has a supportive family and a tight-knit group of friends who welcomed me with kind words and smiles.  In between all of our travels, I was hoping to get some kind of handle on how to make a living and find meaningful employment in the Manila area. Given the right circumstances, I would like to move to Manila within this year.

It was only during brief periods of time in the provinces that the language barrier was problematic for me.  As English was the original medium of instruction for Americans in the PI and is the global business language today, most Filipinos speak and understand English partially, if not completely.

Since I wasn’t able to stay for an extended period of time, I never did get quite used to the time change or the humidity. I would experience bouts of fatigue and slight dizziness each afternoon. Cams informed me that it takes about two weeks to acclimate your body to the heat and the12 hour time change.

Because of Cams’ planning, resourcefulness, generosity, and knowledge of the country, I was able to see more of the Philippines in a week than most tourists see in a month. She possesses a cultural insight and awareness of both US and Filipino culture, and can explain a variety of each culture’s subtle and distinct differences. Her English and Tagalog are impeccable, as she was able to navigate social situations that were totally confusing to me.

Isn't she lovely?

 

As we hadn’t seen each other in over seven months, this trip was more than just my first time out of the US, and a sightseeing tour of the motherland. It strengthened our love for each other and confirmed that we are meant to be together. After being apart for so long, it was exciting to see that we had not missed a beat. I really had the blues after we had to say our goodbyes, but we’re working on a stateside reunion in April.

60 years after my Lolo permanently left the Philippines for the US, I’m yearning to be back. Cams is very supportive of the proposed move, and thinks that I could actually save a bit of money if I land the right job. Relocating there would be an opportunity to live abroad, learn more about the culture of the Philippines, and be with Cams. And that’s exactly where I want to be.

   

 Lolo on the left as a police officer             

         Metro Manila, Roxas Boulevard, circa late 1930's/early 1940's.

 

 

 Josh and Cams, Metro Manila,

                                                                     December 3, 2014