My plane landed in Manila at 4:00AM and someone was waiting to pick me up from the airport. My friend Rachel (the one who lived in Japan for ten years) is half Filipina and when I told her I was going to the Philippines she said she would put me in contact with some of her family there. So Ley, my friend's aunt's cousin, picked me up at the airport before the crack of dawn. I had been in contact with him for a couple weeks before arriving and I told him it wasn't necessary to come at such an ungodly hour, but he insisted. Filipinos are very accommodating.
Because customs and immigration all went smoothly and I was one of the first off the plane I was sitting down to coffee with Ley by 5:00. Ley is about my dad's age. After coffee (which he insisted on paying for) he drove me to my hostel. On the way we stopped for breakfast at Jollibee, the Filipino McDonald's. When we arrived at the hostel the man at the front desk informed us I could not check-in until 2:00PM. I was prepared for this. That's the norm for hostels. It's part of how they keep the costs so low. I would be permitted to shower and use the facilities, probably sleep on the couch. Often the room is ready before 2:00 anyway. Well Ley found this late check-in time unacceptable, so he took me to one of the motels he manages and put me up in a room for a few hours. I was grateful, really I was, but I guess because I am so accustomed to sorting everything out for myself and being on my own I found it a bit overbearing and hard to deal with. I tried telling Ley it was OK, but he wouldn't hear of it. Off we went to his motel.
I slept for a couple hours at the motel and then Ley picked me up and took me out to lunch at Intramuras, the walled- well, golf course. It wasn't always a golf course. A few hundred years ago the walls were built as protection against the Spaniards. Or I think that was the deal. Honestly, I was really tired and Ley speaks English with a heavy accent. Lunch was good. Ley ordered for me and I had meat and potatoes, but cooked Filipino style. The food was OK in the Philippines; I didn't have anything bad, but none of it really popped out at me. Except bibingka. But I am getting ahead of myself. Ley introduced me to the golf club staff as his niece. Then he turned to me and said, "I have a white nephew who lives in the US, so it's believable that you could be my niece."
After lunch at the golf club we walked around Intramuras for a bit and visited a really old church. Once again, I don't know its significance because I was very tired and retaining hadly any information. The sky began darkening a forboding shade of grey, so we left for the hostel. Or that's where I thought we were headed. We actually went to Starbucks for a coffee first. Then we went back to the hostel. Unfortunately we got caught in a torrential downpour and a drive back to the hostel that shoud have taken fifteen minutes in sunny weather took over three hours. In Manila when it rains hard the streets flood because the city itself, while on the sea, is partly below sea-level. It's a nightmare. The streets were anywhere from ankle to knee to thigh deep in some areas. All in a span of two hours, too! I am not exaggerating. Ley kept trying to take one route, but having to turn back and try another way because his car was too small. This can be a daily occurence in Manila during monsoon season. I was a bit worried about my next two weeks.
When Ley dropped me off at the hostel he told me I had a "free day" tomorrow and he would pick me up at 8:00AM to go to the mountains outside of the city and spend the night with his brother and brother's family. He didn't just spring this on me; we had arranged this ahead of time. Ley's kids (fifteen and nineteen years old) were going to come, too.
After checking-in at the hostel I showered and met Matt. After the shower, I did not meet Matt in the shower. Matt was an Englishman (go figure). That's becoming the theme here. Across the street from our hostel there was a night market with about thirty vendors selling differernt types of food. We had a couple beers, ate dinner, and watched the live performances. At first it was a professional band, but then it changed to karaoke we think. No matter, it was still fun to watch. After dinner I was shattered and my bed was beckoning me.
In the morning I needed to go to the US Embassy to get more pages added in my passport. I looked online and there was a form I was meant to fill out, but it was unclear where I was to find said fom. Furthermore the hostel didn't have a printer I could use. My plan was just to show up at the embassy and maybe they would have a spare form on hand. Hey, worse plans have worked. Matt wanted to see Rizal Park, which was just across the street from the embassy, so we set out together. Matt asked if I wanted to take a jeepney, but it was such a nice day I planned to just start walking and catch a jeepney if I got tired.
Jeepneys are minibuses/jeeps that have been converted to the common form of public transportation throughout the Philippines. The name comes from a combination of "jeep" and "jitney" (a minibus). They were originally made from US military jeeps left after WWII. The rear doors have been removed so the passengers can more easily jump on and off. Whereas I am sure not every jeepney on the street is leftover from WWII, the condition of them begs otherwise. They've all got very colorful- almost graffiti looking- art painted on them, too. They are designated to go to certain areas of town, but the neighborhood names painted on the sides do not necessarily mean the jeepney travels to that specific neighborhood. They are so popular I am sure there is a means of organization, but it remains a mystery to me. I've got a photo of myself in a jeepney, but of course I cannot upload it at this moment, so you will all have to make due with a Google image. I sweaer, when I get access to a proper PC I will edit all my blogs to include photos- it will be like all new material!
So Matt and I set off towards the US Embassy/Rizal park (a huge park commemorating Jose Rizal. It was a long walk (about four miles/seven kilometers I later learned), but it was OK because I had company. We also got to see parts of Manila I'm sure we wold have missed if we had taken a cab or even a jeepney. From our hostel in Makati, the central business district, we walked through the Mall of Asia; which is just a high-class mall selling overpriced everything frequented by expats... or, as the Filipinos so affectionately call them, "sexpats." Not far from the Mall of Asia we walked through a very poor part of town with lots of beggars and street kids. Then we walked through a fruit/vegetable market with plenty of vendors selling other things as well. Primarily padlocks and nuts and bolts and sunglasses. Then we walked through a boring part of Manila with just lots of buildings and not much activity- except for the mad traffic. Finally we came to the water. I won't call it a beach because the pavement was about a meter and a half above the water and the sea was so polluted with rubbish and waste from the ships nearby it was tainted a permanent black. One may catch a disease from simply looking at this disgusting water. A few children were swimming naked in the cesspool. There were also lovely palm trees lining the path and loads of people selling coconut juice. I bought a cup and it was really nice.
When we made it to the embassy it was about 1:30 or 2:00PM and at least ninety degrees (Celsius!). Naw, just kidding, Fahrenheit (about thirty-two degrees Celsius). Apparently there is a song about how only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the the midday sun... Matt carried on to the park and I entered the refreshing aircon of the embassy. As I expected I was told I needed to fill out a form to have extra pages added and I was also tode to make an appointment. The officer gave me the website information and turned me out to the unrelenting heat of Manila.
There was a nice hotel across the street from the embassy, so I went there and asked if they knew a place where I could use the Internet and a printer (figuring they would let me use their hotel computer). There's a travel tip for everyone- ritzy hotels are the best place to go for directions and resources because the staff is required to know the surrounding area, they almost always speak great English, and often they will give you what you need for cheap/free. I set off to the "Business Center" of the hotel and logged in to the US Embass- Manila site. I filled out what I thought was the proper form, but when I tried to make an appointment all the dates were "unavailable." I am pretty sure it was a glitch in the system because it was the same for the next six months. So I paid for my printed pages and returned to the embassy.
At the embassy I spoke with the same officer as before and informed him I tried, but couldn't make an appointment. He phoned his supervisor and told me to just go upstairs to Window 4. I passed through secuity, where they took my phone, camera, flashlight, and phone charger, and walked to Window 4. Of couse I first had to walk through seemingly a waste of space. The US Embassy is massive. It is more of a compound than an embassy. I know the Philippines used to be an American colony and that there is a prominent military base in the Philippines, but the size of the embassy is a wee bit OTT (over the top). Oh, America. After pasing through another security checkpoint I made it to Window 4. The woman there directed me to another counter. The man at this counter took my passport and was preparing to ship it off somewhere, I don't know where. He asked for the address I wanted my passport sent to when it was finished and I said I just wanted to pick it up here. I gave him my phone number and email address and he said I would be contacted by Tuesday to pick up my passport. I paid a processing fee of a couple US dollars and left. It was a bit frustrating because I know the process of adding pages only takes fifteen minutes, but that's just the way it goes I suppose. I am sure it would have taken longer to have it done in the US anyway.
In case anyone was wondering, I didn't get the ammendment pages before leaving the US becasue I couldn't. The requirements for having pages added is the passport must have "fewer than two to four" full blank visa pages. When I left I had five. Surely I could have applied for a special circumstance and had them added anyway, but it would have been a whole big thing. Now in the Philippines I was down to three blank pages. I figured theh Philippines would be a good place to have the passport ammended because I knew where the embassy was and so many people speak English. Turns out in Japan it is free and they do it right there at the embassy while you wait... should have known; the Japanese are so efficient. If I couldn't get extra pages added before I left I could have gotten a whole new passport, but that would be silly because mine still has three years until it expires, there are visas I've paid for which are only good with my current passport, and my photo is really nice. No, taking a few days while abroad was my best option.
When I left the embassy it was about 3:30PM. I walked back the way Matt and I had come. I walked past the Cultural Center of the Philippines, a very impressive building. When I tried to go in, however, I was told I needed to sign in. I began to sign in, but when I got to the space "Name of person you are visiting" I figured this place was not a musuem, so I left. I walked for quite a while in what I believed was the right general direction, but because it was slightly different than the route I had taken with Matt I ducked in to an Internet cafe to double check. I was on the right path.
I knew it would take a while to walk all the way back to the hostel, so when I got to a main road I got in a jeepney. I found out how much it cost and paid the driver. I knew I needed to stay on this street for quite a while, so my plan was just to get off when he turned or reached the street where I needed to turn, then take another one in that direction. Well that's not how jeepneys work apparently. I got on and the driver went about one block, then turned. Before panicking and jumping off I pulled out my phone and followed the path on GPS for a while. We were going in the wrong direction, but I knew if he turned left soon I would be OK. I could tell that he would be forced to turn eventually. I stayed on the jeepney all the way until we reached the street on which we began. I was praying he would turn right and carry on down the direction I needed, but he turned left back toward the original destination. So it took about thirty minutes to go six blocks in the proper direction. I got off the jeepney then, discouraged.
I was beginning to feel ill and thought maybe it was just because I hadn't eaten. I found a little pizza place and drank some water while I waited for the nice woman to bake my frozen pizza dough in her toaster oven. I felt a migraine coming on and when I took one bite of the pizza I felt nauseous. I finished my water and sat with my head in my hands willing myself to get better. I could feel the color draining from my face as I held my aching head, which felt like it would split apart at any moment. Please allow me to digress for a moment...
If you have never had a migraine, count your blessings. And if you don't know if you have ever had a migraine, you haven't. They are like the opposite of orgasms in that regard. A migraine is a headache so intense it feels like my brain is pounding against my skull with a hammer. Even the softest down pillow is too hard, even the tiniest pinprick of light is too much. I get dizzy, lightheaded, and often vomit from the pain. I have tried various medications, but the only thing that works is sleep and time. And time, unfortunately stops or drags on at such a slug's pace a few hours seem like days. I get a migraine about once every other month or so...
OK, so I was feeling awful and I knew I looked the part. The nice Filipina woman asked me "Are you OK, ma'am?" I said no. She asked, "Are you sick, ma'am?" I said yes. Then I bought another bottle of water, asked for a box for my pizza, and left the woman to worry. I wasn't going to try my luck with another jeepney, so I started walking again keeping an eye out for a cab. One pedecab driver kept badgering me asking if I needed a ride. I relented and said "You want to give me a ride? You want to go here?" and showed him where I was going (still quite far). He looked at the map and said "taxi." I said, "Yeah, thanks man. That's what I thought." It was funny because he approached me, then acted all insulted or like I was an idiot because I wanted a pedecab so far. I may have laughed at the time, but was not feeling so well and instead was just irritated. I tried to hail a few cabs, but a storm was approaching and they were all full.
A large gust of wind blew some dust in my eyes and I looked up to the sky just in time to see the dark storm cloud burst open like a dam. Immediately the streets, which were dry just moments before, were flooded and I was wading through water already past my ankles. There was such a downpour it didn't feel real. I knew at this point even if I did find a cab they either wouldn't let me in because I looked like a drowned cat, or it would take twice as long as walking because of the traffic. At least it wasn't a cold rain. I put on my rain jacket and sloshed back to the hostel.
Because customs and immigration all went smoothly and I was one of the first off the plane I was sitting down to coffee with Ley by 5:00. Ley is about my dad's age. After coffee (which he insisted on paying for) he drove me to my hostel. On the way we stopped for breakfast at Jollibee, the Filipino McDonald's. When we arrived at the hostel the man at the front desk informed us I could not check-in until 2:00PM. I was prepared for this. That's the norm for hostels. It's part of how they keep the costs so low. I would be permitted to shower and use the facilities, probably sleep on the couch. Often the room is ready before 2:00 anyway. Well Ley found this late check-in time unacceptable, so he took me to one of the motels he manages and put me up in a room for a few hours. I was grateful, really I was, but I guess because I am so accustomed to sorting everything out for myself and being on my own I found it a bit overbearing and hard to deal with. I tried telling Ley it was OK, but he wouldn't hear of it. Off we went to his motel.
I slept for a couple hours at the motel and then Ley picked me up and took me out to lunch at Intramuras, the walled- well, golf course. It wasn't always a golf course. A few hundred years ago the walls were built as protection against the Spaniards. Or I think that was the deal. Honestly, I was really tired and Ley speaks English with a heavy accent. Lunch was good. Ley ordered for me and I had meat and potatoes, but cooked Filipino style. The food was OK in the Philippines; I didn't have anything bad, but none of it really popped out at me. Except bibingka. But I am getting ahead of myself. Ley introduced me to the golf club staff as his niece. Then he turned to me and said, "I have a white nephew who lives in the US, so it's believable that you could be my niece."
After lunch at the golf club we walked around Intramuras for a bit and visited a really old church. Once again, I don't know its significance because I was very tired and retaining hadly any information. The sky began darkening a forboding shade of grey, so we left for the hostel. Or that's where I thought we were headed. We actually went to Starbucks for a coffee first. Then we went back to the hostel. Unfortunately we got caught in a torrential downpour and a drive back to the hostel that shoud have taken fifteen minutes in sunny weather took over three hours. In Manila when it rains hard the streets flood because the city itself, while on the sea, is partly below sea-level. It's a nightmare. The streets were anywhere from ankle to knee to thigh deep in some areas. All in a span of two hours, too! I am not exaggerating. Ley kept trying to take one route, but having to turn back and try another way because his car was too small. This can be a daily occurence in Manila during monsoon season. I was a bit worried about my next two weeks.
 |
| In front of the old church about which I know nothing. |
When Ley dropped me off at the hostel he told me I had a "free day" tomorrow and he would pick me up at 8:00AM to go to the mountains outside of the city and spend the night with his brother and brother's family. He didn't just spring this on me; we had arranged this ahead of time. Ley's kids (fifteen and nineteen years old) were going to come, too.
After checking-in at the hostel I showered and met Matt. After the shower, I did not meet Matt in the shower. Matt was an Englishman (go figure). That's becoming the theme here. Across the street from our hostel there was a night market with about thirty vendors selling differernt types of food. We had a couple beers, ate dinner, and watched the live performances. At first it was a professional band, but then it changed to karaoke we think. No matter, it was still fun to watch. After dinner I was shattered and my bed was beckoning me.
In the morning I needed to go to the US Embassy to get more pages added in my passport. I looked online and there was a form I was meant to fill out, but it was unclear where I was to find said fom. Furthermore the hostel didn't have a printer I could use. My plan was just to show up at the embassy and maybe they would have a spare form on hand. Hey, worse plans have worked. Matt wanted to see Rizal Park, which was just across the street from the embassy, so we set out together. Matt asked if I wanted to take a jeepney, but it was such a nice day I planned to just start walking and catch a jeepney if I got tired.
Jeepneys are minibuses/jeeps that have been converted to the common form of public transportation throughout the Philippines. The name comes from a combination of "jeep" and "jitney" (a minibus). They were originally made from US military jeeps left after WWII. The rear doors have been removed so the passengers can more easily jump on and off. Whereas I am sure not every jeepney on the street is leftover from WWII, the condition of them begs otherwise. They've all got very colorful- almost graffiti looking- art painted on them, too. They are designated to go to certain areas of town, but the neighborhood names painted on the sides do not necessarily mean the jeepney travels to that specific neighborhood. They are so popular I am sure there is a means of organization, but it remains a mystery to me. I've got a photo of myself in a jeepney, but of course I cannot upload it at this moment, so you will all have to make due with a Google image. I sweaer, when I get access to a proper PC I will edit all my blogs to include photos- it will be like all new material!
 |
| Basic Jeepney (photo taken from Google image) |
When we made it to the embassy it was about 1:30 or 2:00PM and at least ninety degrees (Celsius!). Naw, just kidding, Fahrenheit (about thirty-two degrees Celsius). Apparently there is a song about how only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the the midday sun... Matt carried on to the park and I entered the refreshing aircon of the embassy. As I expected I was told I needed to fill out a form to have extra pages added and I was also tode to make an appointment. The officer gave me the website information and turned me out to the unrelenting heat of Manila.
There was a nice hotel across the street from the embassy, so I went there and asked if they knew a place where I could use the Internet and a printer (figuring they would let me use their hotel computer). There's a travel tip for everyone- ritzy hotels are the best place to go for directions and resources because the staff is required to know the surrounding area, they almost always speak great English, and often they will give you what you need for cheap/free. I set off to the "Business Center" of the hotel and logged in to the US Embass- Manila site. I filled out what I thought was the proper form, but when I tried to make an appointment all the dates were "unavailable." I am pretty sure it was a glitch in the system because it was the same for the next six months. So I paid for my printed pages and returned to the embassy.
At the embassy I spoke with the same officer as before and informed him I tried, but couldn't make an appointment. He phoned his supervisor and told me to just go upstairs to Window 4. I passed through secuity, where they took my phone, camera, flashlight, and phone charger, and walked to Window 4. Of couse I first had to walk through seemingly a waste of space. The US Embassy is massive. It is more of a compound than an embassy. I know the Philippines used to be an American colony and that there is a prominent military base in the Philippines, but the size of the embassy is a wee bit OTT (over the top). Oh, America. After pasing through another security checkpoint I made it to Window 4. The woman there directed me to another counter. The man at this counter took my passport and was preparing to ship it off somewhere, I don't know where. He asked for the address I wanted my passport sent to when it was finished and I said I just wanted to pick it up here. I gave him my phone number and email address and he said I would be contacted by Tuesday to pick up my passport. I paid a processing fee of a couple US dollars and left. It was a bit frustrating because I know the process of adding pages only takes fifteen minutes, but that's just the way it goes I suppose. I am sure it would have taken longer to have it done in the US anyway.
In case anyone was wondering, I didn't get the ammendment pages before leaving the US becasue I couldn't. The requirements for having pages added is the passport must have "fewer than two to four" full blank visa pages. When I left I had five. Surely I could have applied for a special circumstance and had them added anyway, but it would have been a whole big thing. Now in the Philippines I was down to three blank pages. I figured theh Philippines would be a good place to have the passport ammended because I knew where the embassy was and so many people speak English. Turns out in Japan it is free and they do it right there at the embassy while you wait... should have known; the Japanese are so efficient. If I couldn't get extra pages added before I left I could have gotten a whole new passport, but that would be silly because mine still has three years until it expires, there are visas I've paid for which are only good with my current passport, and my photo is really nice. No, taking a few days while abroad was my best option.
When I left the embassy it was about 3:30PM. I walked back the way Matt and I had come. I walked past the Cultural Center of the Philippines, a very impressive building. When I tried to go in, however, I was told I needed to sign in. I began to sign in, but when I got to the space "Name of person you are visiting" I figured this place was not a musuem, so I left. I walked for quite a while in what I believed was the right general direction, but because it was slightly different than the route I had taken with Matt I ducked in to an Internet cafe to double check. I was on the right path.
I knew it would take a while to walk all the way back to the hostel, so when I got to a main road I got in a jeepney. I found out how much it cost and paid the driver. I knew I needed to stay on this street for quite a while, so my plan was just to get off when he turned or reached the street where I needed to turn, then take another one in that direction. Well that's not how jeepneys work apparently. I got on and the driver went about one block, then turned. Before panicking and jumping off I pulled out my phone and followed the path on GPS for a while. We were going in the wrong direction, but I knew if he turned left soon I would be OK. I could tell that he would be forced to turn eventually. I stayed on the jeepney all the way until we reached the street on which we began. I was praying he would turn right and carry on down the direction I needed, but he turned left back toward the original destination. So it took about thirty minutes to go six blocks in the proper direction. I got off the jeepney then, discouraged.
I was beginning to feel ill and thought maybe it was just because I hadn't eaten. I found a little pizza place and drank some water while I waited for the nice woman to bake my frozen pizza dough in her toaster oven. I felt a migraine coming on and when I took one bite of the pizza I felt nauseous. I finished my water and sat with my head in my hands willing myself to get better. I could feel the color draining from my face as I held my aching head, which felt like it would split apart at any moment. Please allow me to digress for a moment...
If you have never had a migraine, count your blessings. And if you don't know if you have ever had a migraine, you haven't. They are like the opposite of orgasms in that regard. A migraine is a headache so intense it feels like my brain is pounding against my skull with a hammer. Even the softest down pillow is too hard, even the tiniest pinprick of light is too much. I get dizzy, lightheaded, and often vomit from the pain. I have tried various medications, but the only thing that works is sleep and time. And time, unfortunately stops or drags on at such a slug's pace a few hours seem like days. I get a migraine about once every other month or so...
OK, so I was feeling awful and I knew I looked the part. The nice Filipina woman asked me "Are you OK, ma'am?" I said no. She asked, "Are you sick, ma'am?" I said yes. Then I bought another bottle of water, asked for a box for my pizza, and left the woman to worry. I wasn't going to try my luck with another jeepney, so I started walking again keeping an eye out for a cab. One pedecab driver kept badgering me asking if I needed a ride. I relented and said "You want to give me a ride? You want to go here?" and showed him where I was going (still quite far). He looked at the map and said "taxi." I said, "Yeah, thanks man. That's what I thought." It was funny because he approached me, then acted all insulted or like I was an idiot because I wanted a pedecab so far. I may have laughed at the time, but was not feeling so well and instead was just irritated. I tried to hail a few cabs, but a storm was approaching and they were all full.
A large gust of wind blew some dust in my eyes and I looked up to the sky just in time to see the dark storm cloud burst open like a dam. Immediately the streets, which were dry just moments before, were flooded and I was wading through water already past my ankles. There was such a downpour it didn't feel real. I knew at this point even if I did find a cab they either wouldn't let me in because I looked like a drowned cat, or it would take twice as long as walking because of the traffic. At least it wasn't a cold rain. I put on my rain jacket and sloshed back to the hostel.
I think I walked in the storm for about thirty or forty minutes. I lost track of time. I was absolutely drenched when I arrived at the hostel. I had mentioned to Matt earlier that I wanted to go swimming and that is exactly what it looked like I did- clothes and all. Quite a few people were in the common room staring when I opened the door and so I said to a couple getting ready to head outside, "It's raining a little bit out there. You might want to bring an umbrella."
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