Fresh Pants in Bel Air

"Skyscrapers pierce the hazy sky, mushrooming from the grinding poverty of expansive shantytowns, while gleaming malls foreshadow Manila's brave new air-conditioned world. The congested roads snarl with traffic, but, like the overworked arteries of a sweating giant, they are what keep this modern metropolis alive."

-The Lonely Planet guide to the Philippines on Manila

Sunrise from my hotel building in Makati

Whenever I get off the plane in a new country, the first thing I notice is the smell. In the US, airports tend to feel incredibly sanitized and removed from the rest of the city, but in the developing world the atmosphere of the country hits you all at once as soon as you step outside. In Manila, it's a mix of sweat, gasoline, rotten fruit, and cooking oil. I love it. It's the smell that really drives home to me the realization that I'm very, very far away from home and won't be going back any time soon.

Of course, it took me longer than I would have liked to actually make it to Manila in the first place. An unexplained delay in my first flight, from Traverse City to Detroit, meant that I would have missed my second one to Tokyo, and have to spend 23 hours in Detroit instead. I instead elected to go back home and get some more rest, drink more good beer, and mentally prepare myself for the upcoming move (the first two were accomplished, the third one... less so). The next day, when I arrived in Detroit, I found out that Delta had inexplicably moved me to the flight for the next day without telling me. My choices were either to spend a day in Detroit (Delta was apparently really determined to make me do this) or to take that day's flight and arrive in the Philippines without my bags. Afraid that this would become a never-ending cycle of delays and I would arrive in the Philippines sometime in October, I decided to just take that day's flight and wait for my bags in Manila.

After an inordinately long flight from Detroit to Tokyo, in which I watched three movies, wrote a blog entry, and didn't sleep at all, and then another long flight to Manila, I finally arrived in the Philippines for the first time. Inside the airport, I was immediately greeted by an airline worker, who helped me to fill out my forms requesting delivery of my lost checked bags, then finally allowed to take a taxi to my hotel.

After the smell, the second thing I noticed about Manila was the traffic. Now, I was finally allowed out of the airport at around 11PM, which is not the time of day one would expect congestion in a normal city. Manila, however, is no normal city. Traffic is the name of the game here, all day, every day. Other Southeast Asian Countries- Vietnam leaps to mind- have dealt with a quickly growing population and economy in need of transportation by incentivizing people to purchase motorbikes. It makes cities chaotic but cuts down a huge amount on congestion. Here in the Philippines though, it's all about cars. It reminds me a little of America; the dream is to have your own car, and to hell with the inconvenience of it. It doesn't help that it's the rainy season here, which only makes things worse. (Who would bike in the rain, after all? It's not like raincoats are a thing, after all.)

After a seemingly interminable taxi ride, I finally arrived at the hotel the Fulbright commission had reserved for me. It was actually a more-than-decent room, with a living area, bathroom, and separate bedroom- more of an apartment than a hotel room. Not that I had any chance to enjoy it, since I almost immediately collapsed in bed once I got there. 24 hours of nonstop travel will do that.

The next morning, I woke up bright and early for my official Fulbright orientation. Now, the recommended arrival date for Fulbright grantees to the Philippines (all 8 of us!) was August 1st, so I'm somewhat late to the party. What this meant on my first day was that I got to have an orientation tailored just for me, which was helpful if a little bit lonely. The orientation basically consisted of a powerpoint presentation with information on the nature of my grant, the money I'll be receiving each month, a little about Philippine culture, and the few rules the Fulbright commission expects me to abide by- namely reporting back twice over the year and not visiting the southernmost island of Mindanao (thanks to the unfortunately named separatist group I mentioned in my previous blog entry, who have an unfortunate penchant for kidnapping and/or beheading foreigners). Aside from that, I got the sense that I could totally move to the countryside, find a steady source of beer, look at some volcanoes and call it research and the Fulbright people wouldn't object much. Now, that's not what I want to do of course, but the lack of expectations is a little scary for me, as I tend to be someone who does better when supervised by others. So I guess this will be a good way for me to learn to take initiative.

After my orientation, one of the Fulbright staff took me to open my bank account, buy a local SIM card, and find some new clothes- as it turns out, the jeans and hiking shoes I wore on the plane weren't a great wardrobe for local weather. I took advantage of that time to actually look around the neighborhood where I was and try to familiarize myself with it.

Now, I've been saying so far that I was staying in Manila, which isn't technically true. It turns out that Metro Manila is actually a conglomeration of 17 different cities, only one of which is actually called Manila. The result is a massive urban area half the size of Connecticut, with a total population of over 24 million. For comparison, the town I grew up in has a population of 618, and when I'm feeling antisocial I sometimes still think that's too many. The city I was staying in is called Makati City, which is the financial and business center of Metro Manila. It's mostly a maze of glass and concrete high rises with lots of people in business suits walking around.

Typical Makati street

In parts of Makati, it was almost easy to assume I was walking around Miami or Los Angeles (bonus: my neighborhood was actually called Bel Air), but the constant construction, uneven sidewalks, and ubiquitous street food stands were always a giveaway. For an even more surreal experience, I visited the Greenbelt Mall, one of the many massive malls dotted throughout Manila. It's a huge sprawling structure, probably covering more area than my hometown, with hundreds of shops and restaurants. I've always been uncomfortable in malls- it's just too much sanitized, glittering consumerism and artificiality. Malls in the developing world always add just a bit more weirdness, but I'm also hypocritical enough that I can really appreciate a place with air conditioning and halfway decent burgers, even as I recognize how privileged I am to be able to enjoy it at will (and still complain about it).

One unique feature of malls in the Philippines is that they hold Catholic mass in the mornings. I guess it's important to be able to do your expensive shopping while still fitting in the Lord's Prayer, communion and your weekly dose of guilt.

The Greenbelt Mall also hosts the Ayala Museum, one of the best museums in the country. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not really cultured enough to be able to fully enjoy museums. Often I feel like I could learn more by reading the Wikipedia article on a historical figure than by paying an admission fee to see the hat they used to wear. However, I can also recognize a good museum when I see one, and sometimes I remember more of something when I have 3-D visual aids in front of me. The museum had lots of information about pre-Hispanic Philippine history, as well as the various ethnic groups of the country and their customs and dress. Part of the reason for the linguistic diversity in the Philippines is that it was the first stopover for the Austronesian people after they left Taiwan about 5,000 years ago. From the Philippines, the Austronesians spread to Indonesia, Melanesia, Polynesia, and even Madagascar- the languages of the Philippines are closely related to Malay, Malagasy, Hawaiian, and Māori, among thousands of others.

Possibly the worst part of my first two days in Makati was the fact that, thanks to my little travel mix-ups, the only clothes I had to wear were the ratty T-shirt, jeans, and hiking shoes I'd worn on my plane ride over. This is a fine wardrobe for Michigan in the late summer, but for 90x90 weather (90 degrees fahrenheit and 90% humidity) in the Philippines it's... less than comfortable. Putting on fresh shorts and a clean T shirt (hence the title of my blog- get it? I make funny jokes.) is something you never really appreciate until you've been wearing the same clothes for 4 days straight.

Outside the Ayala Museum (pictures weren't allowed inside)

After wandering around Makati for a couple of days, I decided to head into Intramuros, the oldest district of Manila. Manila has an incredibly rich cultural and political history- its predecessor was founded in or before the 10th century, and maintained diplomatic relations with other kingdoms in what are now China, Indonesia and Malaysia. It later became a province of the Majapahit Empire of Indonesia, then was invaded by the Sultan of Brunei. It was an Islamic area until it was conquered by the Spanish in 1571, upon which it was rapidly catholicized. It was then taken over by the United States in 1898, then occupied by Japan during World War 2. Basically what I'm saying is that it was invaded a lot.
In the beginning of the 20th Century, it was referred to as the "Pearl of the Orient" and "Paris of Asia", thanks to its well-preserved architecture and flourishing intellectual and social movements. The imperialistic connotations of those two monikers aside, it was renowned as being one of the oldest and most beautiful cities of Southeast Asia. However, large parts of it, especially Intramuros, were almost completely obliterated during the Battle of Manila during World War II, when American armed forces fought to regain it from Japan (I hope to do another longer post on WWII in the Philippines later). That was palpable as I walked through the district- many buildings seemed to be facsimiles of older ones that once stood in their place, and the ramparts of the walled city were still pitted in some places by bomb craters (though to be fair some of those were from the numerous other times Manila was invaded).
Still, walking around Intramuros I felt like I was in a place that was far more authentic than Makati. There were shops with corrugated iron roofs, chickens running loose in the street, and street food stalls- it was much more human. There was also the unmistakeable colonial architecture that reminded me of cities in Latin America, and people following me on the streets trying get me to take part in their guided tours. It was a good reminder that I looked- not entirely inaccurately- like just another American tourist.

The Manila Cathedral- it's been destroyed 8 times, most recently during the Allied bombing of Manila in 1945. 

After lunch near the Manila Cathedral, I followed the Lonely Planet's advice and started my walking tour at Fort Bonifacio, the fort built by the Spanish conqueror of Manila, Miguel López de Legazpi. The Fort contains some beautiful ornamental gardens, and a museum dedicated to the life of José Rizal, one of the heroes of the Philippine independence (I hope to write a full blog post on him in the future, as he's one of my favorite historical characters). There was also a great view of the mouth of the Pasig River, the main waterway of Manila, and the city skyline across the way. 

500-year-old battlements, skyscrapers, shantytowns, and environmental contamination- what more could could you ask of Manila?

Because no photoblog would be complete without cat pictures.

Moss on the ramparts

Walking around Intramuros, I really got the sense that a lot of the pain of the past century or so- three colonial empires, two independence movements, one world war, one horrid dictatorship- hadn't really been forgotten at all, despite how quickly the country is developing. In Vietnam, I was surprised by how little the wars of the past had influenced the thinking of the newer generations, but here it feels like they're very much still a part of the national consciousness. Of course, these are very much my shallow impressions of countries I've only lived in briefly, so I could very much be wrong. But I still saw the old buildings constructed by the Spanish, the places bombarded by the Americans and Japanese, and the extravagant buildings the Marcos regime built to impress various foreign dignitaries. 

This is a particularly beautiful memorial to the Filipino victims of war. Among people represented in the statue are a bereaved mother, orphaned child, victim of rape, and wounded soldier. The flowering trees overlooking it really add to the atmosphere.

Public transport in Intramuros

Outside of Intramuros, I also visited Rizal Park, a huge green area with lots of statues and monuments. It was a nice place to walk around, though the constant stares and giggles from groups of teenagers got a little tiring. In Intramuros there were at least buildings to hide behind, but in an open park I feel like a shining beacon of whiteness. It's easy to complain about (and I'll definitely be complaining about it more in future posts), but I do have to remind myself that, despite the catcalls and stares, my otherness comes with positive connotations, however undeserved they may be, especially in the Philippines. It's not the otherness that gets black men questioned and/or shot by police officers, or women sexually harassed on public transportation. Which isn't to say that I have to like it.

This is a statue of Lapu Lapu, the chieftain who killed Ferdinand Magellan, and who is regarded as one of the national heroes.

As I was walking through the park, I happened to be greeted by a very friendly old guy who introduced himself as Pol, and claimed to be one of the first licensed tour guides in the Philippines. Normally I try and politely excuse myself and walk away when random people approach me on the street and offer to show me around, but Pol seemed to be fairly knowledgeable about the history of the various sights around the park. More than that, I was getting tired of walking around the city all alone, and it was refreshing to have a friendly person to show me around, even if there might be some tipping involved with it. 

Pol himself

Pol turned out to be quite a character (as you would expect of old guys who randomly approach foreigners and non-creepily ask them to be their friend), with lots of stories and opinions of the Philippines. He had lots of tips for places I should go and things to look out for, and knew a huge amount about the monuments and human history of the area. He walked around with me for two hours, talking the whole time about the park, and trounced me in a game of chess while we rested in a park.

One of the weirder but cooler features of the park- a massive relief map of the entire Philippine archipelago. As a map geek, I couldn't have been more happy about it. 

At the end of the day, Pol took me to Ocean Park, a big amusement park area along Manila Bay, with great views of the ocean at sunset. It felt like the perfect way to finish off a really weird but rewarding day exploring the Philippines. I got Pol's number ("for if you need a friend to show you around somewhere else), and made sure to tip him as generously as I could.

The mountain in the distance is Mount Mariveles, a dormant volcano

I was planning on writing about my move to Quezon City and settling into my new apartment, but this blog seems to be getting long enough already, so I'll save that for another entry later this week. Stay tuned for updates, and please don't hesitate to reach out with any questions!

DISCLAIMER: This is a personal blog, and does not in any way represent the views of the US Department of State or the Fulbright Commission. I encourage readers to reach out with any complaints or inaccuracies.