Wanderlust Heaven!

Sorry for the lengthy silence from over here. Meant to get in a Philippines recap post a few days ago, but my first few days in Japan were full-on and I had to scramble to get out to the countryside for the Fuji Rock Music Festival. More on that mad adventure in my next post, which should be close on the heels of this one – I don’t want to get too far behind current events.

Before getting into things, I should respond to Dr. Phong’s penetrating comment about my narrative being full of ‘gaping holes’ (both puns intended). As usual, Dr. Phong wasn’t far off the mark. I have struggled with pinpointing the proper balance of reportage and salacious asides…and probably have come down on the side of a PG-13 rating most of the time. That has made the slog family-friendly – or at least friendly to non-fundamentalist families. But the spicier details of my journey have been recorded, to be sure – and I am willing to share them with Dr. Phong and any other members of this studio audience in two formats:

1. A ‘strategy planning and market research session’ in Rangoon, Burma (aka Yangon, Myanmar) on August 22 at 14:30. Lobby of the Strand Hotel. I will be inconspicuously attired in a seersucker suit and will be seated in the southwest corner of the lobby bar.
2. Upgrade your membership in this blog to ‘Gold.’ It’s only $9.95/month, and you also get free anti-virus protection (note: some viruses may be bacteria-resistant).

One more aside: I of course noticed that the MacArthur photo I posted in the previous entry was super-sized…and am not sure why. Bear with me while I figure out how to make this work; if it’s not easy to do, I may forgo the photos.

Back to the facts. After diving for a few days in Moalboal I went back to Cebu for a bit, and hung out there before making my final RP stop in Manila. I left Moalboal with my usual beachside momentos – mosquito bites and some jellyfish stings. I swear that every time I go to one of these places, I leave with nasty wounds of some sort. This past January in Koh Samui, Thailand I stepped on something sharp and went to the hospital to get it checked out – and had painful mossie bites behind both legs. This time I got nailed by an underwater jellyfish (which resembled a piece of string, right up until it brushed against my hand and I felt as if my hand was being sawed off), which resulted in a bizarre series of bright red itchy splotches on both hands and arms, and which persisted for a week or more. It’s not much fun to pull into an airport – especially going from developing nation to developed nation – with random red marks all over your visible flesh. You may get asked a few questions…

Over the years I’ve spent a lot of time in Cebu, and have come to love the place, despite its pollution, crowds, poverty, and general chaos (well, that one might be a plus). It’s a great jumping-off point for the diving spots, and there’s enough in and around the city to keep you busy. One place I revisited this time was Magellan’s Cross…it’s said that a giant cross next to the Basilica de Santo Nino in downtown Cebu encases a bit of Magellan’s original wooden cross brought from Spain in 1522. Magellan actually was killed in Mactan Island next to Cebu, by the wonderfully named Chief Lapu-Lapu, who’s now got a town and a fish (aka the grouper) named after him. Who says that crime don’t pay? The cross is in a little alcove with a painting of the ‘terminal encounter’ between Spaniards and locals on the ceiling above it. Pretty good stuff – see the photo I’ve attached.

Didn’t do much else of note this time in Cebu. Went back to Our Place bar where I fell in with Duncan the Scotsman and his merry crew. Meant to have a couple beers there, then fan out…but stayed until they kicked us out, then managed another couple drinks before nodding off. Next day was heading out to go for a run…which is never a routine exercise in cities like Cebu, with its shattered pavement, leering locals, oppressive heat, and inane drivers. You always need to keep one eye on the ground, and the other looking straight ahead/slightly up for cars, trikes, and stray branches/wires. Gives one quite a headache after 30 minutes or so. The odds of spraining your ankle are probably 10 times what they are in developed nations. So while I am generally keen to go out for a run, it can be hazardous to say the least. Anyway, this time the guard told me about the Cebu City Sports Center, not far from my hotel. I managed to find it, and was pleasantly surprised – it’s a sizeable outdoor stadium, and was full of people running, taking an aerobics class, practicing martial arts, etc. I’d never actually seen Filipinos running or doing anything of the sort, and I found it heartening to see that they were at least attempting to work off the often-lethal diet I’ve told you about in previous postings. I was also damn happy to have an alternative to risking my life on the Cebu roadways. Just goes to show you that a) as well as you think you know a foreign city, there’s almost always much more than meets the eye, and b) you can fit in reasonable well and adapt almost anywhere. As I ran around the track I felt pretty much like I was running in Central Park or on the Esplanade…almost normal and in good hands.

The flight from Cebu to Manila wasn’t one of the best (i.e., forgettable). As we were descending into Manila’s airport we suddenly started ascending and speeding up…I figured air traffic intervened and wanted us to circle and wait. That would have been a perfectly acceptable explanation, and one I’ve heard before. But the pilot was perhaps a bit too honest for his own good. He came on the intercom and told us that they made a ‘mis-approach’ and had to circle back and try again. Two problems with that line: ‘mis-approach’ and ‘try.’ Neither gave us passengers much confidence in the pilots, who would have better served themselves and their airline (Cebu Pacific) with a white lie about air traffic control. Granted it was a stormy night…but as we circled back to ‘try’ again, I glanced at the woman across the aisle from me and we exchanged pained looks. I began chanting Steely Dan hymns to myself to ward off evil spirits. We again descended, passengers staring out the windows, and we touched down safe and sound this time. That episode added a couple of drinks to the usual nighttime recommended amount (NRA).

Stayed in the same place as a few weeks ago, the Malate Pensione, right in the middle of various forms of mayhem. Roxas Boulevard, the harbour road, is alongside Malate and it’s not a bad place to go for a run – the sidewalk is well-kept and there aren’t too many people milling around. The con is that the ocean bangs up against the seawall and sometimes washes over it – spraying you with some foul bay water. Manila does have brilliant sunsets over the harbour – the setting and the pollution come together to form some awesome skies. But you don’t really want to take a bath in the water…you can smell it from across the street.

Went up to my economy room in the pension and quickly noticed a cockroach scurrying across the floor. It ran out of sight under the bed and I silently cursed it and told it not to re-emerge. Took a shower, and as I toweled myself off I saw two roaches climbing across the walls. I went back and forth for a few minutes about how to handle this challenge to my authority – or at least challenge to my sense of hygiene. I wasn’t really geared up for a battle against the insect kingdom…but I absolutely didn’t want to wake up with a roach perched on my face either. I picked up the floor towel, walked over to the wall, and managed to give each of the roaches a solid smack. They both fell/flew towards the floor, probably wounded and certainly gone from sight. Feeling that I’d done enough, I prayed that I wouldn’t see those two little maggots again and went out for a bit and a walk in the rain. I recalled a similar struggle many years ago, when I was a freshman at Tufts University and my friends John, Jim and I encountered so many roaches in West Hall that we had an alphabetical list from A-Z prepared (‘A’ was something like ‘Agatha,’ and so forth). We used many methods to kill the roaches, including a fairly dangerous procedure which involved trapping them in a plastic tennis ball can, then torching it with aerosol spray Right Guard sparked by a lighter – the can burned and compressed into a small sticky pile of goo. I believe we got up to the letter ‘R’ before the school year ended. This time, I hoped that I wouldn’t get beyond the two roaches I’d already confronted and smacked.

Didn’t stay out late as it was a Sunday night and the weather was awful. Had gone out in my Tevas and shorts, as I didn’t want to get my shoes and trousers covered with gunk…instead I came back with my feet coated with rancid water and mud. Turned on the light, and there were the two roaches, on their backs and in plain sight. They weren’t quite dead. For whatever reason they had come out in the open – probably because I had turned off the light and roaches definitely get bold/stupid when it’s dark. Anyway, there they were, and it was easy pickings to grab them both with a plastic bag and flush them to oblivion. Might have attempted my old Tufts trick but lacked a lighter and tennis ball can. And that was the end of the roaches – didn’t see any others whilst there. Do you think they let each other know when there’s trouble ahead? Perhaps they do…and I felt justified in murdering the little buggers in the name of piece, quiet and hygienic duties.

The storm nailing Manila was part of Typhoon Glenda, and made parts of the city nearly impassable. The following day I took a cab to Makati City to meet a friend of a friend – a good guy named Bart who works for the Asian Development Bank (aka Asian Dams and Bridges) and who was referred by our mutual buddy Alan in Washington. My taxi came up to a street into Makati that was literally full of water – and the taxi driver chose to plow ahead, somehow making it through. The water was so high that I was prepared for it to come through the door panel and floorboards, or at the very least to stall out the motor and force us to swim through the foul depths. But we got through it untouched.

The typhoon seemed aptly timed, coming as it did at the same time as the President’s State of the Nation Address (SONA). This is an annual speech, I imagine nearly every ‘normal’ country has one. Security was beefed up all round the country, especially in the capital. I asked a friend how difficult it would be to get around Manila given the situation…I didn’t feel like having a gun poked in my face just because I was dressed like a hobo and hadn’t shaved in a week. His advice was merely to ‘avoid going to Quezon City,’ where the speech was being delivered. That sounded like good advice for pretty much every day of the year, and I heeded it. But my overall timing, as usual, was pathetic – there were endless rumours of coup attempts and plots to bomb the Congressional building where the Pres was giving the speech. Nothing came off, but people seemed on edge.

The events somehow reminded me of a trip to a certain unnamable country years ago, when I was sitting at a bar the day before flying out and was asked by the bartender if I’d heard ‘the news.’ I told him I hadn’t seen a paper in days, wherein he handed me the local paper whose headline read ‘Cyclone Tomorrow.’ That fouled up my trip home and shot my nerves for a few days.

Before leaving town I went to a Japanese restaurant to work myself up into an eating frenzy for my next destination. Was the only one in the restaurant…ordered a few things…was fairly enchanted by my waitress, Joy, and hit it off well with her. Took her out for a few drinks after she finished her shift. Further details can be found by subscribing to the ‘Gold’ feature of this blog, or simply by meeting me in Rangoon on August 22 (see above for full meeting details).

That’s about it for my time in the Philippines. Greatly relished my month there – spent time in a few favorite spots and some new ones, hung out with old friends and made some new ones, and had a few experiences that I’ll keep with me. A few final observations about the country:

• Filipinos are perhaps the friendliest people you’ll come across. That’s not to say they’re simple, it’s just that they seem to be able to frame rough situations in a positive light. Despite their hardships they keep on smiling and joking. We’d all do well to do the same.
• It’s sad to see how poor the standard of living and economy are in the RP. College grads are working at McD’s, making up beds in hotels, and guarding convenience stories – if they can even get those jobs. Where the fuck did things go wrong – and how the hell can we help the RP get back on track?
• Filipinos still admire and look up to the US. This despite 50 years of colonization, which resulted in direct involvement in WW2 and massive devastation in Manila and other locales, followed by US focus on rebuilding Japan after the war and devoting very little attention/resources to the RP. There were certainly geopolitical reasons for doing so…but still, you can’t help but feel that the RP got screwed. We left the RP our pop culture, but not much in the way of stable institutions, clean hands, etc. etc.
• The upside of good leadership is incalculable. Seems to me that the RP needs to find the right people to help right the ship. And perhaps US-style democracy isn’t the best way to accomplish this mammoth task…despite the naïve ravings of the Bush Administration. Many Filipinos feel the early Marcos years were good ones for the RP…and surprisingly many also feel that the martial law years were good, at least superior to the current state of play. Maybe the country needs a firmer footing and a better-educated populace before it embarks on further ‘beauty contests’ for its leaders.
• What the hell do I know? Please chime in with your thoughts/insults.

Alright, I’ll stop here and put up another post within a couple days about my first week in Japan. Stay tuned…