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Monday, February 28, 2011

Vanilla in Manila

The last couple days were, well, a reality check.  At our last post we were sitting in the dining area of our hotel in Makati.  We walked around the area adjacent to the hotel for an hour waiting for the local money exchanger to open.  The bank was located in a upscale mall called "Greenbelt".  We apparently had stayed in a very affluent area of Manila.  The mall boasted a number of luxury clothing and accessory outlets, a high end theatre, and arguably more Starbucks and Seattle's Best coffee shops than the Pacific Northwest.  Everyone was well dressed and happy.  This wasn't so bad we said to ourselves. 

After converting a few bucks to Filipino Pesos, we hopped in a cab to head into Quezon City, to meet Remedios.  That's when we saw the real Manila.  About 10 minutes into our ride, the cabby reached back and locked our doors.  The glistening skyscrapers transitioned into dark, filthy stretches of homemade lumber and corrugated metal shanties stacked against all physics laws several stories tall.  Each legitimate business establishment that was nestled between street vendors had an armed guard with an automatic shotgun and a belt of no less than 10 shells.  We are talking the 7-11's.  The few police that happened to pass by openly carried M-16s.  I was half waiting to drive by a shooting of Anderson Cooper 360.  Street families scampered in the shadows, eating scraps of food from a variety of vessels and guarding their possessions.  The filth and poverty was all consuming, with none of the positive effects of being "breath taking", but completely definitive of the word nonetheless.  13 million people lived somewhere in metro Manila after all.   We met a guy today at the beach who described a story about his friend that occurred only two days ago. The cab driver changed the price halfway through his ride and when his friend didn't pay the difference, he dropped him off in a bad part of town.  Within seconds the guy was stripped of all his possessions at knife point.  Lesson learned - take a government sanctioned cab.  After twisting and turning down alley after alley, and me being thoroughly convinced that this was an attempt at disorientation before our final words were spoken, we arrived on the street where Remedios supposedly lived.   Our cabby spoke far too little English for a mutual understanding of anything.  He looked around as lost as we were, which didn't improve my comfort level.  We drove up and down the street, peering into rundown structures.  Suddenly I saw a sign with "U'ilani Chong" hand written on what turned out to be the outer of two iron security gates.  The relief was intense.  I paid our cabby who was a really nice guy afterall, and didn't plan to sell us off to highest bidder. 

A dark, short, well fed Filipino woman met us and the talking didn't stop for 18 hours.  Nor did the eating.  Filipinos love to eat, and they eat about every two hours.  Full meals.  After consuming plate after plate of items that i can't pronounce nor really describe (execpt for the rice), i retreated to our room and felt my digestive organs turn to motor oil.  Ok, it wasn't that bad, but thank you science for Pepto-Bismal.  The house - it was large, and while somewhat rundown, it was homey in a dark, cavey sorf of  way.  There were plenty of floor to ceiling glass cases full of lots of nothing, and a little of everything, much of which was still in the original boxes from 1984.  It probably wouldn't have made an episode of Hoarders, but only because it was far too catologued and organized.  We crashed by 6pm after only 4 hours of sleep during the previous 48.  Up by 6am, bellies quickly full of steaming piles of stuff, we waited for our driver who would take us up the coast to San Juan, the surfing capitol of the Philippines.  When he arrived, we loaded the SUV with our things and started the 5 hour drive North. 

Slowly the landscape transitioned from super slum city to rural country side.  We passed through too many small towns to count.  Have I mentioned the driving yet?  Just google driving in Asia.  Somehow it works, that's all i can say.  The biggest difference I noticed wasn't the scooters, the tricycles, the roto-tiller-converted farm wagons, or the numerous forms of human powered vehicles, but the Jeepneys.  Nope i haven't heard of them either before this.  Think a jeep wrangler, slammed to the ground, stretched out and plopped on a handi-van chassis, with a padiwagon rear end for passengers, and as highly decorated with whatever the owner could get his hands on.  Dozens of shiny truck horns seem to be popular.  Deep purples, blues, oranges and pinks, almost as loud as the diesel motors which are most certainly circa world war 2.  They put the mini-trucks of Waipahu to shame, and they are freaking everywhere.  It is the official Phillipines public transportation system for the patient. 

As we neared our final destination, we took a pit stop just north of San Fernando to visit the countries first Taoist Temple.  I can't remember what century it was built, but she was an old one.  Finally we hit the surf community of San Juan, which occurs a long the main road for a bout 1/2 mile.  A mix of Bali-style concrete block Warung homestays sprinlked with a few newer luxury "resorts", although every structure with a roof was aptly named "Resort".  I'm currently sitting in the nicest of the surf clubs, The Big Kahuna, as they are the only outfit in town with Wi-Fi.  The beach is a dirty colored sandy strip with a beach break that mimicks Belows, and a reef point break called Mona Liza that is a short version of Cali's right points.  This morning we jumped in at 6:30am.  It was perfect glass, and perfect peeling rights offering 15 second rides.  Only problem is it was 1ft.  Supposedly there is a large Typhoon stirring up some fetch in the China sea, which could bring us head high plus sets by Wednesday.  I'm not holding my breath.  It blows out by 10am, but that's fine as 90% of the 30 or so surf tourists in the area don't wake up before 9.  The setup is pretty sweet.  We have 3 more nights here, then catching a bus back to Makati (this time its seven hours), for a day or two before Indo.  I don't think you'll have to pull too hard to get us to leave when the time comes.  I'll try to post some pictures soon.

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