I ended my last Manila post saying that I won't be visiting Australia this trip after all. A few people have asked me why. I've cut out Australia for the same reason I cut out New Zealand- time, money, and the lure of Asia. I like Asia much more than I thought I would and if I have to pick between visiting an Asian country and visiting a Western country, Asian will win. As far as the money goes- I could afford to visit Australia, but a budget that would last me two weeks in Australia could last me two months in Asia. So there ya go. I've told Dom and he wasn't fussed about it. His exact words were "Besides, Perth is boring as f***."
OK, back to Manila...
I had received an email that my passport was ready for pick-up. I ate breakfast and reread the email to make sure I brought enough money. To my dismay I realized that the night before I had read the email as "The payment window opens at 9:00AM" when it actually said "The payment window is open 9:00AM-10:00AM." I finished breakfast at 9:40AM. Not even the fastest cab in the world could have gotten me to the US Embassy in twenty minutes. Damn. Another day in Manila.
As much as I wanted to go and pick up my passport, I was the slightest bit relieved I didn't have to go out in the unforgiving sun because I was beginning to feel ill. I felt like I was hungover, but I hadn't drank enough the night before to cause a hangover. Feeling defeated I went back to bed.
When I woke for the second time I decided to do something semi-productive without actually leaving the hostel- I backed up my photos on to my flashdrive. Or that was the plan anyway. I don't really know what happened. I thought I transferred them, but when I checked the flashdrive, they weren't there. They also were not showing up on my SD card. What's more is I discovered the photos from Li's camera were never actually downloaded to my flashdrive. I was about in tears. It appeared that I had inexplicably lost all my photos up to this point.
Thankfully Marquis was there. He told me his camera does the same thing- after backing up photos, the photos are still on the SD card, but don't show up on the camera. We checked my SD card on his laptop to be sure, and yep, all my photos were still there. The ones from Li's camera had not made it to my flashdrive, though. Ah well, Lucas got them and he said he would email me some of the specific ones I want. Or I can take them when I visit him in Amsterdam.
So Marquis is American. He came to the Philippines as part of a travel scholarship from his university. Basically he wrote an essay and filled out an application explaining why his school should give him money to travel and he was convincing enough for them to say, "Yeah, OK. Here ya go." And he was given money to travel to pretty much wherever he wanted. He decided to go to the Philippines and Thailand. After Manila Marquis, a medical student, was going to spend a month at a midwifery clinic in Cebu. Then he was off to Thailand. The only academic requirements asked of him was to write a one page essay summing up his experience. Pretty awesome, eh?
After my photo transferring meltdown I still wasn't feeling well and I didn't want to venture out to the wonderful world of Manila, so I played cards with CJ. CJ was also pretty much stuck in Manila and feeling the same way towards the city as I was. CJ and I went to the night market for a late lunch/early dinner after cards. I only ate one piece of pita bread because I felt naueous. It tasted like lighter fluid.
I went back to the hostel and slept for an hour or so. While napping an Austrian and a couple from the UK arrived. They all went to the night market for dinner, and I decided to go to be social and so I could sleep at night. I only left a couple minutes after they did, but I guess they changed course because I could only find the Austrian at the market.
I sat down next to Flo (the Austrian) and we were listening to the live band for a while when some street kids came to our table. Flo was eating some chocolate covered pretzel sticks and one of the kids, about nine years old, held out his hand said "Give me one." Flo, incredulous, replied with, "I'll give you one, but you've got to say 'please'." Chastised, the boy said, "Give me one...please." Flo then gave him a pretzel stick. Then another kid, who I presumed to be an older brother, about twelve years old, silently held out his hand as well. Flo said to him, "What do you say?" "Please." responded the boy. Flo gave him the treat, but first reminded him "Always please." Then the kids ran off.
To be honest, I don't know if they were street kids or food vendor's kids. Here's a little tangent... I love going to outdoor food markets or local "Ma and Pa" shops abroad because the family is the same wherever. Because my family does a lot of outdoor events selling pizza by the slice I like to see the similarities among businesses all over. I loved growing up spending my summers at festivals and carnivals. There is an almost secret bond between vendors. An underground scene only "carnies" are privvy to. Kind of like the staff in the film Dirty Dancing... kind of, not exactly. My dad and his friend (also a "carnie") want to start a reality TV show about the lives of these festival workers. They want to call it Vendor Bender (my dad is as big of a fan of rhymes as I am of alliteration). Vendor Bender could have a special on foreign vendors so everyone can see how similar we all really are. It'd be a hit! Oh, but not all children of vendors pretend to be beggars and vagrants- we just look that way.
That night the air con was on the fritz and the room was absolutely freezing. My teeth were chattering and I was very thankful to have the blanket my little sister gave me just before leaving the US.
In the morning I awoke early to make it to the embassy before 10:00. Marquis wanted to go to Rizal Park (just near the embassy), so he came with me. We took a cab to make sure we got there on time. After passing the security screening I went to Window 4, was given a ticket and sent to the cashier at Window 8. I had to wait in line at Window 8, then went back to Window 4 after paying ($82USD) to turn in my receipt. Then I was told to come back after 15:00 to pick up my passport. Seriously?! The logic- or lack thereof- of the entire process of passport ammendment was ludicrous. Even more irritating was the fact that another American told me he had more pages added to his passport in Japan for free and it only took fifteen minutes. So, lesson learned: Next time I need pages added to my passport in Asia, go to Japan, not the Philippines. Grr...
From the embassy Marquis and I went to Rizal Park. We walked around for a bit, went in a couple buildings that looked like museums or culural centers but really weren't, then headed in the direction of Coconut Palace. According to the internet, Coconut Palace was ordered to be built in preparation for a visit from Pope John Paul II. Upon his arrival, however, JP told the prime minister that maybe if she put the same time and effort into her country as she had the palace, her citizens would have clean drinking water. Burn! Now Coconut Palace is used for government meetings. Marquis and I were excited to go there because it sounded like a place from Mario Kart. Unfortunately it was closed to the public that day.
On our way back to the embassy it began to rain. A rickshaw driver asked us if we wanted a ride and we declined. A couple minutes later, when it was raining much harder, he came up to us again and said "Get in." When I asked how much it was he said, "Only twenty." Twenty Philippine pesos is only about $0.50USD, so we got in to take cover from the rain. The ride was only about four blocks. Then he told me it was $20USD. Shit like this is (pardon the language) really upset me in the Philippines. The guy tried to make me out to be the bad guy because I assumed he was using the local currency- why wouldn't he? Even though most everyone spoke/understood English and even though there are loads of American expats in the Philippines, prices are always given in pesos. I told him flat out I wasn't paying $20 for four blocks in a horse drawn rickshaw, but because he was blocking my way out I ended up paying more than 20 pesos. The way the guy was so blantantly and unabashedly ripping me off brought to mind the expression: Don't piss on my leg and tell me it's raining. I don't remember, but I may have actually said this to the guy. Marquis kept quiet. I was put in a better mood when I walked in to the embassy because I felt like I was an old friend of everyone there- they all smiled and remembered me.
I fell asleep in the cab on the way back to the hostel. As soon as I got wifi I bought a plane ticket out of Manila for the next day.
OK, back to Manila...
I had received an email that my passport was ready for pick-up. I ate breakfast and reread the email to make sure I brought enough money. To my dismay I realized that the night before I had read the email as "The payment window opens at 9:00AM" when it actually said "The payment window is open 9:00AM-10:00AM." I finished breakfast at 9:40AM. Not even the fastest cab in the world could have gotten me to the US Embassy in twenty minutes. Damn. Another day in Manila.
As much as I wanted to go and pick up my passport, I was the slightest bit relieved I didn't have to go out in the unforgiving sun because I was beginning to feel ill. I felt like I was hungover, but I hadn't drank enough the night before to cause a hangover. Feeling defeated I went back to bed.
When I woke for the second time I decided to do something semi-productive without actually leaving the hostel- I backed up my photos on to my flashdrive. Or that was the plan anyway. I don't really know what happened. I thought I transferred them, but when I checked the flashdrive, they weren't there. They also were not showing up on my SD card. What's more is I discovered the photos from Li's camera were never actually downloaded to my flashdrive. I was about in tears. It appeared that I had inexplicably lost all my photos up to this point.
Thankfully Marquis was there. He told me his camera does the same thing- after backing up photos, the photos are still on the SD card, but don't show up on the camera. We checked my SD card on his laptop to be sure, and yep, all my photos were still there. The ones from Li's camera had not made it to my flashdrive, though. Ah well, Lucas got them and he said he would email me some of the specific ones I want. Or I can take them when I visit him in Amsterdam.
So Marquis is American. He came to the Philippines as part of a travel scholarship from his university. Basically he wrote an essay and filled out an application explaining why his school should give him money to travel and he was convincing enough for them to say, "Yeah, OK. Here ya go." And he was given money to travel to pretty much wherever he wanted. He decided to go to the Philippines and Thailand. After Manila Marquis, a medical student, was going to spend a month at a midwifery clinic in Cebu. Then he was off to Thailand. The only academic requirements asked of him was to write a one page essay summing up his experience. Pretty awesome, eh?
After my photo transferring meltdown I still wasn't feeling well and I didn't want to venture out to the wonderful world of Manila, so I played cards with CJ. CJ was also pretty much stuck in Manila and feeling the same way towards the city as I was. CJ and I went to the night market for a late lunch/early dinner after cards. I only ate one piece of pita bread because I felt naueous. It tasted like lighter fluid.
I went back to the hostel and slept for an hour or so. While napping an Austrian and a couple from the UK arrived. They all went to the night market for dinner, and I decided to go to be social and so I could sleep at night. I only left a couple minutes after they did, but I guess they changed course because I could only find the Austrian at the market.
I sat down next to Flo (the Austrian) and we were listening to the live band for a while when some street kids came to our table. Flo was eating some chocolate covered pretzel sticks and one of the kids, about nine years old, held out his hand said "Give me one." Flo, incredulous, replied with, "I'll give you one, but you've got to say 'please'." Chastised, the boy said, "Give me one...please." Flo then gave him a pretzel stick. Then another kid, who I presumed to be an older brother, about twelve years old, silently held out his hand as well. Flo said to him, "What do you say?" "Please." responded the boy. Flo gave him the treat, but first reminded him "Always please." Then the kids ran off.
To be honest, I don't know if they were street kids or food vendor's kids. Here's a little tangent... I love going to outdoor food markets or local "Ma and Pa" shops abroad because the family is the same wherever. Because my family does a lot of outdoor events selling pizza by the slice I like to see the similarities among businesses all over. I loved growing up spending my summers at festivals and carnivals. There is an almost secret bond between vendors. An underground scene only "carnies" are privvy to. Kind of like the staff in the film Dirty Dancing... kind of, not exactly. My dad and his friend (also a "carnie") want to start a reality TV show about the lives of these festival workers. They want to call it Vendor Bender (my dad is as big of a fan of rhymes as I am of alliteration). Vendor Bender could have a special on foreign vendors so everyone can see how similar we all really are. It'd be a hit! Oh, but not all children of vendors pretend to be beggars and vagrants- we just look that way.
That night the air con was on the fritz and the room was absolutely freezing. My teeth were chattering and I was very thankful to have the blanket my little sister gave me just before leaving the US.
In the morning I awoke early to make it to the embassy before 10:00. Marquis wanted to go to Rizal Park (just near the embassy), so he came with me. We took a cab to make sure we got there on time. After passing the security screening I went to Window 4, was given a ticket and sent to the cashier at Window 8. I had to wait in line at Window 8, then went back to Window 4 after paying ($82USD) to turn in my receipt. Then I was told to come back after 15:00 to pick up my passport. Seriously?! The logic- or lack thereof- of the entire process of passport ammendment was ludicrous. Even more irritating was the fact that another American told me he had more pages added to his passport in Japan for free and it only took fifteen minutes. So, lesson learned: Next time I need pages added to my passport in Asia, go to Japan, not the Philippines. Grr...
From the embassy Marquis and I went to Rizal Park. We walked around for a bit, went in a couple buildings that looked like museums or culural centers but really weren't, then headed in the direction of Coconut Palace. According to the internet, Coconut Palace was ordered to be built in preparation for a visit from Pope John Paul II. Upon his arrival, however, JP told the prime minister that maybe if she put the same time and effort into her country as she had the palace, her citizens would have clean drinking water. Burn! Now Coconut Palace is used for government meetings. Marquis and I were excited to go there because it sounded like a place from Mario Kart. Unfortunately it was closed to the public that day.
On our way back to the embassy it began to rain. A rickshaw driver asked us if we wanted a ride and we declined. A couple minutes later, when it was raining much harder, he came up to us again and said "Get in." When I asked how much it was he said, "Only twenty." Twenty Philippine pesos is only about $0.50USD, so we got in to take cover from the rain. The ride was only about four blocks. Then he told me it was $20USD. Shit like this is (pardon the language) really upset me in the Philippines. The guy tried to make me out to be the bad guy because I assumed he was using the local currency- why wouldn't he? Even though most everyone spoke/understood English and even though there are loads of American expats in the Philippines, prices are always given in pesos. I told him flat out I wasn't paying $20 for four blocks in a horse drawn rickshaw, but because he was blocking my way out I ended up paying more than 20 pesos. The way the guy was so blantantly and unabashedly ripping me off brought to mind the expression: Don't piss on my leg and tell me it's raining. I don't remember, but I may have actually said this to the guy. Marquis kept quiet. I was put in a better mood when I walked in to the embassy because I felt like I was an old friend of everyone there- they all smiled and remembered me.
I fell asleep in the cab on the way back to the hostel. As soon as I got wifi I bought a plane ticket out of Manila for the next day.
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