We landed at the Ninoy Aquino International Airport after circling once around the massive city of Manila. With a metropolitan area encompassing 11 million people, it is the 19th largest city in the world. High rises dotted the skyline, while houses spread out for miles blocked only by rice fields and the South China Sea.
Our driver from the Swagman hotel was waiting for us when we cleared customs. After a ten hour flight, it was a relief to not have to navigate the Manila public transport system. We drove through rush-hour traffic along the water on Roxas Boulevard and passed hundreds of colorful jeepneys. Tall yellow flags commemorating Ninoy Aquino lined the street. They featured a silhouette of Aquino with his quote "The Filipino is worth dying for". Aquino was gunned down by pro-Marcos hitmen, at the airport that now bears his name almost exactly 25 years ago, while attempting to restore democracy to the Philippines. Ferdinand Marcos was a U.S. puppet noted by Transparency International as being the 2nd most corrupt leader in world history. Between 1972 and 1986, he embezzled 5-10 billion dollars from an already poor nation.
We arrived at the Swagman to find it filled with over-50 white men accompanied by under 25 Filipinas. Hmmm..... Oh well, the place was a dump, but it provided us with our transportation needs from NAIA and on to Clark Airport the next day. After a couple of cold San Miguels we fell asleep to the barking dogs and honking horns of the adjacent alley.
Up at 5:30am due to jet lag, we set out on a run. We fully expected running in Manila to be miserable, if not just plain impossible. We were thus shocked to find hundreds of Filipinos out jogging, biking, and aerobicizing, at 6am this bright Sunday morning! I normally run with Lindso when we are travelling, just to keep track of each other in case anything happened to one of us. This run was unlike any other though, as I got to run behind her and see the stunned reactions of hundreds of Filipinos at this tall white girl running fast through their city. Clearly it was something they do not see every day. During our run we ran through several groups of a hundred or more people doing aerobics in unison while an instructor blasted American pop music from outdoor speakers. Men were paddling outrigger canoes on the polluted waterfront. Packs of cyclists decked out in all the latest Euro pro tour gear pedaled by. Hundreds of people were running. Manila is an active city, and it was a blast to join in with them for one day. Towards the end of our run we came upon an intersection crammed with the thickest mass of people I had ever seen. The streets were completely blocked by jeepneys, motorscooters and buses, none of them moving. In between the vehicles a throng of hundreds on foot, carrying chairs, barrels of fruit, bags of clothes, were pushing and squeezing south. Halfway across the intersection, we turned back in defeat, like salmon too weak to swim upstream.
Later, after the morning rush, we easily walked across the same street to Rizal Park. Marble monuments and fountain pools are bordered by shady pathways, grassy lawns, and benches. As we wandered among the monuments to Rizal, Lapu-Lapu, and the Franciscan martyrs, we heard familiar music. The park had caged in outdoor speakers at each corner playing 80's cheese rock. I heard Foreigner, Debbie Gibson, and Air Supply during our walk.
As we sat on a polished stone bench we noticed a bunch of boys dressed American gangsta style loitering our way staring at us. After a minute one of them worked up the courage to walk over and ask Lindso if he could take a picture with her. Lindso is fast becoming a Filipino celebrity.
Manila is very Americanized, though you'll see no Americans here. All the signs are in English. Everybody speaks some English. The highway and street signs look just like those in the U.S. KFC, Pizza Hut, and McDonalds are ubiquitous. After a couple of sweltering hours walking in the heat, an armed guard opened the door to Starbucks for us, and we instantly stepped into Anywhere, USA. Except the frappacinos were only $3.
We check out of the Swaggy and boarded a bus for Angeles City. For two hours we passed out of endless urban sprwal of Manila and onto a modern toll highway bordered by rice paddies and distant volcanoes. We disembarked in the party town of Angeles, and caught a cab to Clark airport. Next stop, Malaysia.
Our driver from the Swagman hotel was waiting for us when we cleared customs. After a ten hour flight, it was a relief to not have to navigate the Manila public transport system. We drove through rush-hour traffic along the water on Roxas Boulevard and passed hundreds of colorful jeepneys. Tall yellow flags commemorating Ninoy Aquino lined the street. They featured a silhouette of Aquino with his quote "The Filipino is worth dying for". Aquino was gunned down by pro-Marcos hitmen, at the airport that now bears his name almost exactly 25 years ago, while attempting to restore democracy to the Philippines. Ferdinand Marcos was a U.S. puppet noted by Transparency International as being the 2nd most corrupt leader in world history. Between 1972 and 1986, he embezzled 5-10 billion dollars from an already poor nation.
We arrived at the Swagman to find it filled with over-50 white men accompanied by under 25 Filipinas. Hmmm..... Oh well, the place was a dump, but it provided us with our transportation needs from NAIA and on to Clark Airport the next day. After a couple of cold San Miguels we fell asleep to the barking dogs and honking horns of the adjacent alley.
Up at 5:30am due to jet lag, we set out on a run. We fully expected running in Manila to be miserable, if not just plain impossible. We were thus shocked to find hundreds of Filipinos out jogging, biking, and aerobicizing, at 6am this bright Sunday morning! I normally run with Lindso when we are travelling, just to keep track of each other in case anything happened to one of us. This run was unlike any other though, as I got to run behind her and see the stunned reactions of hundreds of Filipinos at this tall white girl running fast through their city. Clearly it was something they do not see every day. During our run we ran through several groups of a hundred or more people doing aerobics in unison while an instructor blasted American pop music from outdoor speakers. Men were paddling outrigger canoes on the polluted waterfront. Packs of cyclists decked out in all the latest Euro pro tour gear pedaled by. Hundreds of people were running. Manila is an active city, and it was a blast to join in with them for one day. Towards the end of our run we came upon an intersection crammed with the thickest mass of people I had ever seen. The streets were completely blocked by jeepneys, motorscooters and buses, none of them moving. In between the vehicles a throng of hundreds on foot, carrying chairs, barrels of fruit, bags of clothes, were pushing and squeezing south. Halfway across the intersection, we turned back in defeat, like salmon too weak to swim upstream.
Later, after the morning rush, we easily walked across the same street to Rizal Park. Marble monuments and fountain pools are bordered by shady pathways, grassy lawns, and benches. As we wandered among the monuments to Rizal, Lapu-Lapu, and the Franciscan martyrs, we heard familiar music. The park had caged in outdoor speakers at each corner playing 80's cheese rock. I heard Foreigner, Debbie Gibson, and Air Supply during our walk.
As we sat on a polished stone bench we noticed a bunch of boys dressed American gangsta style loitering our way staring at us. After a minute one of them worked up the courage to walk over and ask Lindso if he could take a picture with her. Lindso is fast becoming a Filipino celebrity.Manila is very Americanized, though you'll see no Americans here. All the signs are in English. Everybody speaks some English. The highway and street signs look just like those in the U.S. KFC, Pizza Hut, and McDonalds are ubiquitous. After a couple of sweltering hours walking in the heat, an armed guard opened the door to Starbucks for us, and we instantly stepped into Anywhere, USA. Except the frappacinos were only $3.
We check out of the Swaggy and boarded a bus for Angeles City. For two hours we passed out of endless urban sprwal of Manila and onto a modern toll highway bordered by rice paddies and distant volcanoes. We disembarked in the party town of Angeles, and caught a cab to Clark airport. Next stop, Malaysia.
