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| Jeepney |
MANILA, PHILIPPIANS: I’ve learned never
to rely on first impressions. The drive from the airport to my hotel on Makati
Avenue in the City Center took two hours. I’m guessing I could have walked it
in less time, but then walking is no breeze either. The area around the hotel,
where my driver assured me is safe, is alive with people stumbling over each
other; the streets and sidewalks are obstacle courses of misplaced signs,
broken chunks of sidewalk, buckling pavement, food stands, garbage bags,
beggars, hawkers, prostitutes, and vendors selling their wares, “Viagra, I make you a good deal.” — I
guess they know their target market, white men over sixty. There are a few of
those around as well. I stopped by an open food market where chicken intestines
and pig stomachs appeared to be selling well. I ordered a bowl of spicy chicken
and two scoops of rice. It was delicious. If people aren’t walking or clogging
up the roads with their cars, they take a tuc tuc, a motorbike with an attached
sidecar, or a jeepney, a stretched version of the jeeps the US Army left behind after WWII. At the hotel, you
have half a dozen porters and doormen whose obsequious kowtowing can drive you
crazy. “I’m okay. I can pull my bag
myself. Please, no, no, I can do it myself. Thank you, it’s okay.” Lest I
forget, security is also everywhere. There are security guards in front of
every building, traffic cops at every intersection. There are cops in cars, and
cops on motorbikes, and cops with sawed off shotguns. My driver was probably right.
This is a safe area. I’ll see where these first impressions will take me.
