Shelton Bumgarner
2005-07-26 10:14:09 UTC
By SHELTON BUMGARNER
http://www.migukin.com
"I love my country," my girlfriend said softly into my shoulder as we
entered the New Airport, just off the coast of Incheon, South Korea.
"After what we've been through, I tend to agree with you on that one,
babe," I thought to myself.
We had just spent the last few days in Manila, Philippines and it was
an incredible experience.
Nothing could have possibly prepared us for Manila. The only thing,
from my point of view, that I can compare it to is some sort of
post-apocalyptic world where everyone is on the make and you don't
feel you can trust anyone -- no matter how nice they may seem.
Once we got to our hotel and had a chance to walk around a bit, I
started to get the creeps just a bit -- everyone was just lying around
doing what appeared to be, well, nothing. "The Koreans, they'd be
moving around and stuff," I quipped
to my girlfriend.
It was at this point that my first brush with culture shock occurred
-- people understood what I was saying while I was talking to KHK as I
was comparing Korea to the Philippines, and I don't think they really
appreciated what I was saying.
I was wearing a shirt that said, "World Without Strangers" in big
black letters. It didn't take too long for a panhandler to notice me
and start bugging the crap out of me about giving him money or buying
some trinket. When I continued to refuse, he shot back with, "'World
without strangers? STRANGER."
I winced when I heard that.
He was right. I shouldn't have worn the shirt.
That was the first day we took a that most interesting of Filipino
inventions -- the jeepney. The jeepyney is simply almost impossible to
describe without a picture. It's just, I don't know, some sort of
tricked out mutation of a van, a jeep, an art exhibit and something
you would smuggle people into a country with.
But they're actually much safer than a taxi. Go figure.
Anyway, we took one and it was fun. It didn't take me too long to
realize that jeepney's run a very tight circuit so it wasn't like you
could use them to go just anywhere. Wherever you wanted to go with one
had to be pretty close.
We got to this place called Robinsons Place, which at first seemed
like just a big knockoff of Wal-Mart, but soon we realized was much
cooler and bigger than that. It had lots of nice shops and air
conditioning and generally was a pleasant enough shopping experience.
Soon enough we decided to headback to the hotel. For some reason, we
ended up on the single most dangerous form of transportation ever
conceived by the mind of man -- the tricyle.
Imagine a bike with a sidecar being pushed by some old dude who looks
like he's about to drop dead at any moment.What adds to the fun is
that there are no -- and I can't stress this enough -- no enforced
traffic laws in Manila.
None.
So your tricycle operator will take any route possible to get you
where you need to go.
That means he'll think nothing of coming into incoming traffic. It was
dark when this guy was taking us home so we often found ourselves
going against traffic in the dark on what would be considered a major
road in the United States. It would be like someone driving you on a
bike going against traffic after sunset on Broad Street in Richmond.
"Honey, we're pretty much doing everything your mother warned you no
to do, " I said to my girlfriend in between thoughts of being smushed.
It was at that point that I realized she was my responsiblity -- if we
were going to make it out alive, I was going to have to take charge of
the situation.
Again -- we got home safe and it struck me that despite everything
using a tricycle was probably one of the safer modes of transportation
in Manila. These dudes were professionals and they could handle
getting you there without killing you.
That's the most striking thing about traffic in Manila -- the cars
aren't all banged up. They look like regular cars you'd find in a
country that, like, respected traffic regulations and stuff.
"These guys must be the best drivers in the WORLD!" I thought to
myself on more than one occasion.
We got home safe and sound and decided to do some shopping the next
day.
We woke up and decided to switch hotels.
Bad Idea.
The taxi driver we go simply had no idea where he was going so we
decided to get out and wing it. My girlfriend was cussing up a storm
as we got out and I had to cool her down, "Honey, don't cuss him out!
He has our stuff in his trunk! He could have just zoomed off with all
our luggage!"
After walking around for a little while -- with growing numbers of
tricycle drivers acting like they knew what was going on, we finally
found what we were looking for.
The Malate Pensionne is a little piece of heaven surrounded by traffic
hell. It was cheap -- only about $20US for two nights and just a
lovely,
lovely place. I highly recommend it. You have two places to eat within
the building itself and a Starbucks(!) in the courtyard.
Every time I passed the Starbucks, I couldn't believe what I was
seeing.
A Starbucks in a place like this. Incredible.
The room we had was nice, clean, safe and comfortable. It had a TV
(with the SkyLife satellite service) and an aircon/fan.
We then decided venture out and do some shopping.
Did I mention how hard it is to get anywhere in Manila? Did I?
So we found ourselves on a bus headed towards the big shopping
district of Manila. After we got there, we looked around and were
amazed -- amazed -- and the wide variety of things to buy. It seemed
to me there was much more variety than would be found in a similar
Korean store. I was struck by a hunch that Manila is probably the
shopping capital of southeast Asia.
I also noticed that all the expats I saw were old -- really old. And
most of the youngish ones were middle-aged guys who were probably in
the Philippines to do something evil. I tried not to think about that
too much.
We bought some stuff --- including a plate set of all things -- and
attempted to go back home.
It was dark and again I got that sense that my girlfriend was my
charge, like we were on a fieldtrip and I was her chaperon. "This
place is so dangerous," I kept thinking to myself.
We found ourselves walking around downtown Manila in the dark looking
for some mode of transporation that did not involve the risk of
robbery or kidnapping. "If only the taxis were safe!" I thought myself
again.
What Manila desperately needs is a subway system. What they have is a
underground walking system that I can only image will one day be be
the starting point for a subway system if they ever get enough money.
The mass transit system in Manilla is so bad that there is a
disconnect that is hard to explain. I had heard about "Filipino time"
before I came to Manilla, but didn't really understand what they were
talking about -- it's not really "Filipino time" it's "The traffic
system is so bad that it's almost impossible to get anywhere quickly
time."
After what felt like a million years and six different answers to the
question "How do we get back to Malate," we found ourselves on a bus
headed home.
"Honey, at least nothing New York City throws at you will be worse
than this," I told my girlfriend.
We got home, went to Robinsons Place and ate Korean food.
Our last day, we used the private van provided by the Malate Pensionne
and started home. I really like the Philippines, all things
considered, the key to having an enjoyable time there is to plan in
advance.
You have to be a strategic thinker -- you have to give yourself much,
much, much, much more time than you would anywhere else to get
wherever you want to go and you need to go during a time in the year
when it's not going to rain on your parade. You need to establish a
base of operations near wherever you want to go and you need to give
yourself a few extra days simply to figure out what the heck is going
on. I would also suggest paying a little extra for a private car
whenever you can.
http://www.migukin.com
"I love my country," my girlfriend said softly into my shoulder as we
entered the New Airport, just off the coast of Incheon, South Korea.
"After what we've been through, I tend to agree with you on that one,
babe," I thought to myself.
We had just spent the last few days in Manila, Philippines and it was
an incredible experience.
Nothing could have possibly prepared us for Manila. The only thing,
from my point of view, that I can compare it to is some sort of
post-apocalyptic world where everyone is on the make and you don't
feel you can trust anyone -- no matter how nice they may seem.
Once we got to our hotel and had a chance to walk around a bit, I
started to get the creeps just a bit -- everyone was just lying around
doing what appeared to be, well, nothing. "The Koreans, they'd be
moving around and stuff," I quipped
to my girlfriend.
It was at this point that my first brush with culture shock occurred
-- people understood what I was saying while I was talking to KHK as I
was comparing Korea to the Philippines, and I don't think they really
appreciated what I was saying.
I was wearing a shirt that said, "World Without Strangers" in big
black letters. It didn't take too long for a panhandler to notice me
and start bugging the crap out of me about giving him money or buying
some trinket. When I continued to refuse, he shot back with, "'World
without strangers? STRANGER."
I winced when I heard that.
He was right. I shouldn't have worn the shirt.
That was the first day we took a that most interesting of Filipino
inventions -- the jeepney. The jeepyney is simply almost impossible to
describe without a picture. It's just, I don't know, some sort of
tricked out mutation of a van, a jeep, an art exhibit and something
you would smuggle people into a country with.
But they're actually much safer than a taxi. Go figure.
Anyway, we took one and it was fun. It didn't take me too long to
realize that jeepney's run a very tight circuit so it wasn't like you
could use them to go just anywhere. Wherever you wanted to go with one
had to be pretty close.
We got to this place called Robinsons Place, which at first seemed
like just a big knockoff of Wal-Mart, but soon we realized was much
cooler and bigger than that. It had lots of nice shops and air
conditioning and generally was a pleasant enough shopping experience.
Soon enough we decided to headback to the hotel. For some reason, we
ended up on the single most dangerous form of transportation ever
conceived by the mind of man -- the tricyle.
Imagine a bike with a sidecar being pushed by some old dude who looks
like he's about to drop dead at any moment.What adds to the fun is
that there are no -- and I can't stress this enough -- no enforced
traffic laws in Manila.
None.
So your tricycle operator will take any route possible to get you
where you need to go.
That means he'll think nothing of coming into incoming traffic. It was
dark when this guy was taking us home so we often found ourselves
going against traffic in the dark on what would be considered a major
road in the United States. It would be like someone driving you on a
bike going against traffic after sunset on Broad Street in Richmond.
"Honey, we're pretty much doing everything your mother warned you no
to do, " I said to my girlfriend in between thoughts of being smushed.
It was at that point that I realized she was my responsiblity -- if we
were going to make it out alive, I was going to have to take charge of
the situation.
Again -- we got home safe and it struck me that despite everything
using a tricycle was probably one of the safer modes of transportation
in Manila. These dudes were professionals and they could handle
getting you there without killing you.
That's the most striking thing about traffic in Manila -- the cars
aren't all banged up. They look like regular cars you'd find in a
country that, like, respected traffic regulations and stuff.
"These guys must be the best drivers in the WORLD!" I thought to
myself on more than one occasion.
We got home safe and sound and decided to do some shopping the next
day.
We woke up and decided to switch hotels.
Bad Idea.
The taxi driver we go simply had no idea where he was going so we
decided to get out and wing it. My girlfriend was cussing up a storm
as we got out and I had to cool her down, "Honey, don't cuss him out!
He has our stuff in his trunk! He could have just zoomed off with all
our luggage!"
After walking around for a little while -- with growing numbers of
tricycle drivers acting like they knew what was going on, we finally
found what we were looking for.
The Malate Pensionne is a little piece of heaven surrounded by traffic
hell. It was cheap -- only about $20US for two nights and just a
lovely,
lovely place. I highly recommend it. You have two places to eat within
the building itself and a Starbucks(!) in the courtyard.
Every time I passed the Starbucks, I couldn't believe what I was
seeing.
A Starbucks in a place like this. Incredible.
The room we had was nice, clean, safe and comfortable. It had a TV
(with the SkyLife satellite service) and an aircon/fan.
We then decided venture out and do some shopping.
Did I mention how hard it is to get anywhere in Manila? Did I?
So we found ourselves on a bus headed towards the big shopping
district of Manila. After we got there, we looked around and were
amazed -- amazed -- and the wide variety of things to buy. It seemed
to me there was much more variety than would be found in a similar
Korean store. I was struck by a hunch that Manila is probably the
shopping capital of southeast Asia.
I also noticed that all the expats I saw were old -- really old. And
most of the youngish ones were middle-aged guys who were probably in
the Philippines to do something evil. I tried not to think about that
too much.
We bought some stuff --- including a plate set of all things -- and
attempted to go back home.
It was dark and again I got that sense that my girlfriend was my
charge, like we were on a fieldtrip and I was her chaperon. "This
place is so dangerous," I kept thinking to myself.
We found ourselves walking around downtown Manila in the dark looking
for some mode of transporation that did not involve the risk of
robbery or kidnapping. "If only the taxis were safe!" I thought myself
again.
What Manila desperately needs is a subway system. What they have is a
underground walking system that I can only image will one day be be
the starting point for a subway system if they ever get enough money.
The mass transit system in Manilla is so bad that there is a
disconnect that is hard to explain. I had heard about "Filipino time"
before I came to Manilla, but didn't really understand what they were
talking about -- it's not really "Filipino time" it's "The traffic
system is so bad that it's almost impossible to get anywhere quickly
time."
After what felt like a million years and six different answers to the
question "How do we get back to Malate," we found ourselves on a bus
headed home.
"Honey, at least nothing New York City throws at you will be worse
than this," I told my girlfriend.
We got home, went to Robinsons Place and ate Korean food.
Our last day, we used the private van provided by the Malate Pensionne
and started home. I really like the Philippines, all things
considered, the key to having an enjoyable time there is to plan in
advance.
You have to be a strategic thinker -- you have to give yourself much,
much, much, much more time than you would anywhere else to get
wherever you want to go and you need to go during a time in the year
when it's not going to rain on your parade. You need to establish a
base of operations near wherever you want to go and you need to give
yourself a few extra days simply to figure out what the heck is going
on. I would also suggest paying a little extra for a private car
whenever you can.