Goodbye you crazy place

 Average morning at Monaliza.  Not the 1ft slop we were expecting.

The Philippines.  As we prepare to leave this place and venture onward to the next country, I sit here, 6:00 a.m. in the morning pondering, thinking on our experience.  As I woke up, (U’i speaking) I thought that we were still in San Juan, and was about to go and check the surf, but realized that we were now back in Makati, the business district of Manilla.  A safer place than the other districts of Malate, Pasay and Quezon City, with guards at every corner, carrying automatic machine guns.  It’s still a trip to cross the streets however as we manage to not get hit by oncoming taxis and Jeepneys that skillfully weave around each other.   

The money however went quite fast here.  Certain individuals influenced some of our decisions early on, which we later found out were a complete ripoff.  This left a twisted feeling in our stomachs (won’t go into specifics).  When we reached San Juan, the only room available was an AC room for 1000 pesos a day at Hacienda Peter’s, around $23USD.  It was a tiny room, with a large bathroom (no flushing toilet, cold water) and a small grainy TV which caught Fox (hurray).  No fan room opened up for us, which would have brought the price down to 700 pesos or $17-20USD.  Food was not as cheap as we had hoped.  A meal for two was around 600 pesos at average restaurants in Makati, like “The Pancake House.” (Very different from the one in Honolulu.  Pancake House Philippines serves fresh frozen yogurt like Yogurtland, and pancakes drizzled with yummy goodness.  They also served delicious southern influenced foods like waffles with, fried chicken and sweet tea).  At the little hut restaurants near and around San Juan, around 300 pesos or $7-$9 USD kept us fed each meal.  Breakfast would be toast and margarine, slices of fried bacon, a bright red hot dog, egg and slice of Filipino mango.  Lunch and dinner could be a sandwich with bacon fat, or any number of “asian” dishes, such as chicken curry with vegetable and rice or Pansit (Filipino vegetable dish with bitter melon) and rice.  We ate pretty well in San Juan, but the price began to add up.  I began to say to Ryan that I didn’t want to eat any longer and didn’t feel hungry.  We saved on some meals by going into town and purchasing oranges, bananas, and cup noodles at the market a cross between china town and the swap meet, but much dirtier and with 100,000’s of bootleg DVDs.  We have now seen most of the movies that are still in the theatres or have yet to hit the theatres in the US.  Our general opinion is that the cost to vacation in the Philippines is somewhere between the US and Indonesia.  Our Alaskan friend agreed that the Philippines were more expensive than he expected. 

U'i and Pacita, the owner and gracious host of Hacienda Peter's in San Juan

Transportation was very efficient here.  Jeepneys were 10 pesos each ride, and they would take us from place to place throughout town.  Often the drivers would yell out where they were going, like to San Juan, which was a more distant town from San Fernando, the main town.  After jumping into the Jeepney, money is handed down the seats, person by person, until reaching the driver who somehow manages to avoid on coming vehicles, make change, smoke a cigarette, honk, shift gears, and pass it back down the line to the person who paid.  The people would mutter and utter something in Tagalog and the driver would stop for a drop off.  They understand some English, allowing us to stop where we needed to.  While we haven’t picked up much Tagalog, we know enough to maintain a crude understanding of each other.  It’s pretty neat how the traffic is so intense and yet, the people really take care of each other, watching out for those who are crossing, especially little kids, always honking to let the other drivers know they will be passing, stopping immediately for anyone who needs a ride.  

 

 Some sweet Jeepneys in San Juan

The air quality on the streets is lousy.  Breathing too long while in an open air bus, Jeepney or in a Tricycle wreaks havoc on your lungs.  Most people wear a handkerchief over their nose and mouth, stopping the bigger particulates.  My chest felt like I had been a chain smoker for 20 years.  Thank goodness we had inhalers and eye drops to battle the diesel smoke and dust.  The public buses are great.  One has to quickly jump on and grab onto the bar handles as the bus continues to move forward.  I almost didn’t make it on, as Ryan was in front of me and his tall body and long arms partially blocked the bars, but I managed to grab on.  The open windows offer great air flow and people squish on the bus until it is packed (mind your possessions here).  The other buses that offered longer rides to different provinces had air conditioning.  We decided to chose the Partas buses for our trip from San Juan back to Manilla.  We waited an hour on the side of the road.  Only one bus passed with our destination written in the window (about 30 other busses flew by), but it didn’t stop when we flagged it down, presumably because it was full.  After another half hour wait, an empty Partas screeched to a stop in the gravel beside the road.  We loaded our luggage underneath and climbed aboard.  The seats were roomier than any airplane we’ve been on, and laid back far enough to sleep.  We dozed off and on as we crawled across the country side.  The 4.5 hour ride north was a 7.5 hour bus ride back.  The last hour we winded through Quezon City, Cubao, and over to Pasay City.  Back to the filth and poverty.  Our stomaches sank.  

 Passing through one of the dozens of small, friendly towns heading back to Manila

The bus station was ghetto, and in a bad part of town.  An armed guard with his machine gun escorted us off the bus and stayed by our side as we boarded a taxi.  He was very helpful.  We were the only foreigners we’d seen in about 5 hours.  At each stop light, the taxi would be approached by vendors and beggars, slapping the side of the car and pressing their faces against the glass, holding up empty cups (hence the locked doors).  We pretended to sleep.  The street kids were everywhere, sleeping in the sewers, crossing 10 lane highways without a thought, huffing.  We hit Makati and felt a breath of relief.  Our cheap hotel felt like a Four Seasons suite.  Hot water was fantastic (even though it only lasts for about 2 mins each shower).  We slept 10 hours last night.  We will wander around Makati today, and get ready for our early morning flight to Bali.  We are very ready to get to the beauty, friendliness, and affordability of Indo.  Philippines has been a neat experience, having checked it off our list we think it will be a long time before we are back.