I haven't had much time to write here, busy with
all kinds of work and play. I guess the upside to having a typhoon in your city
is finally getting a day off to decompress.
The weeks are long here, and work is generally
low-key. I'm there at 7 and leave around 4 and so far my days have been mostly
filled with computer work and research. It's an interesting office environment
- quiet, but somehow still always busy - and thankfully there is a small,
relatively close-knit group of interns to commiserate with, though people tend
to come and go very quickly and for better or worse (depending) the group is
never stable or static.
When I titled this blog Manila to Micronesia I
didn't have in mind that I would always be comparing the two, but I know I am
constantly doing it. I want Manila to be a separate experience with its own
positives and negatives, but I have a hard time seeing it for what it is, by
itself. Living in this city is a lot different than living on the islands.
Things were slow and generally inefficient in Chuuk, but it was easier to roll
with the punches. In Manila, all of these things are compounded by the
unpleasantness of the city itself. I have hot water and electricity and
(usually) internet, so there have been some upgrades. But the the poverty, the
danger, the pollution and all of those other urban burdens give me frustration
rather than a renewed sense of patience.
Almost every weekend, we have tried to escape the
cities for greener pastures. My second weekend, a few of the interns went to
Coron Island in the province of Palawan. Coron is only an hour flight from
Manila, but the difference was startling, and I couldn’t help but feel all the
similarities with Micronesia. Everything brought back memories of island life,
from the small houses with metal roofs, to the expat/divers' bars and
overwhelming smell of the shore and the Pacific, to the power cutting off while
I was taking a bucket shower. We spent the day island hopping with two friendly
tour guides/boat drivers who took us around to Kayangan Lake (supposedly the
cleanest lake in Asia) and some post card-esque, nearly deserted beaches. The
weekend after, we swapped white sand for volcanic rock, hiking up Taal volcano
in Tagaytay. As seems to often be the case in the Philippines, the real
adventure was trying to navigate how to get there. We first took a taxi to a
bus station that had no signs and no apparent schedule. Most of the time,
locals are more than willing to try and help, but they also fear offending you
or admitting they don't know something, which often means being pointed in the
wrong direction. We found the right bus after being led there by a motortrike
driver who wanted a tip for his trouble, and took it two hours to a drop-off
point where we encountered the same ordeal with a circuit of jeepneys. Jeepney
is the popular mode of public transport in the Philippines; a cultural remnant
of WWII jeeps, and always packed to cracking point with people. We occupied
ourselves trying to learn some Tagalog words, as being crammed into public
transport has been the only real way I've interacted with locals outside of
shops and my hotel. They had the jeepney stop for us at the top of a long,
winding hill where we had to hire and haggle with motortrike drivers to take us
all the way down to a boat, which we took across to the volcano in the pouring
rain. After all of this, the hike was about 30 minutes long with a 5 minute
stop at the top to admire the view and the crater lake. It was beautiful, but
the grandness of it was somewhat mitigated by the daunting task of getting back
home. The bus back took over three hours because of the rain and city flooding,
which I should have taken as a sign that traveling here will never be smooth.
This past weekend, we traveled to Bohol Island, another beachy spot more
touristy and developed than Coron. While Manila was caught in the crosshairs of
a typhoon, we had perfect weather and toured around the island visiting popular
sites. We walked up one of the Chocolate Hills, one of over a thousand grass-covered
limestone hills shaped like Hersey’s kisses, and to reserve full of tarsiers,
small, endangered primates that looks more like some kind of marsupial gremlin.
Of course we also went to the beach, which was small and not as impressive as
Coron’s. There was a solid cluster of bars and restaurants along the shore, as
well as shady and persistent "tour guides" aggressively offering
boats to other islands. You couldn't stand on the street without being
immediately harassed, in the same tired and insistent manner. While having
coffees under palm trees right across from breaking waves went a long way to
making those walks worthwhile, any stress that might have been relieved by
poolside drinks and sandy feet was rekindled trying to find a way back to
Manila. Our Sunday evening flights were cancelled because of the typhoon, and
delayed again the next morning after we had woken up at 4am and dealt with a
particularly hostile cab driver. Now that I am finally home, I have the chance
to look back on the amazing things I am able to do here and weigh them against
the challenges that come with every weekend trip. Not that it's news that these
things happen, especially in developing countries, but dealing with street
hassling, negotiating rides from sketchy "taxis", and just generally
existing by myself in any given public place are all skills that I need to hone
Traveling While Female here in the Philippines. It's always necessary to have
some sort of guard up, but of course it's different when you look so different,
and are giving off the air that you realistically have no idea what the hell
you are doing. It's not exclusive to this country by any means, but it
continually aggravates me that everywhere is potentially somehow dangerous, and
everyone is persistently trying to rip me off. This again feels like
Micronesia, where the surreal experience of having white skin means you are the
exotic minority and always prone to be stared at and engaged with. Not
everything was rainbows and cupcakes being a foreigner in Chuuk, but the
threats and the chaos seem more tangible here in the center of a city. Having
to always structure and hold up walls against all things unsafe is exhausting,
and takes away the freedom and enjoyment of the relaxion you are supposed to
feel on holiday, or simply the banality everyday tasks, like walking home with
your groceries. I can't excuse it away by saying it's just how things are here,
but I also can't ignore or deny it. I can only try to momentarily escape it in the corner cubicle of my office, or the small private spots I claim on the beach.
