Escape from Manila

My guide book mentions a Bat Kingdom in Olongapo where thousands of bats leave their tree nests at dusk in a winged river - some wing spans up to a meter!  I ask my friend Aris (is someone from Olongapo called an Olongapongo?  I hope so!) if we can see it.  He responds that it's not there anymore.  


- What happened?
- They left.
- Where did they go?
- I do not know.  We are not close.  We don't even text.

Dinner with Aris




Why do I return, and linger in this suffocating city?  No one loves Manila; you hate it, love-hate it, or put up with it.  The infrastructure is broken.  Sidewalks break apart or just vanish along with money and will.  The traffic mocks L.A. freeways.  Jeepneys spew out unfiltered exhaust that contributes to mass air pollution.  One carries a handkerchief to cover one's noes when crossing the street.  Handkerchiefs are also somewhat effective when encountering that acrid and gut-churning scent I call Manila Malodour.  This is a waft of urine, sewage and garbage baked in the sun.  Poverty is everywhere and dominant color is ash gray.  This city is one big tetanus shot.


So why do I come back?  Why do I stay?


It's for the people.  It's a cliche, but it's true.  Filipinos are the most generous, warm, affable people on the globe.  Within 36 hours of my arrival, I've made six new friends, been invited to two dinner parties, and to stay in vacation homes on three different islands.  I love the play and the laughter.  Filipinos laugh easily and loudly.  In a place of hard edges, there is something delightful about being able to find a pebble of joy and magnify it into an avalanche of humor.  Think about your Filipino friends - they laugh, dance, touch and they always bring food.


I fritter away an afternoon with three new women friends, spending most of our time trying to understand each other.  One of them is 40 and single, and they repeat a joke about her old maid status, "Never been kissed.  Never been touched.  But totally damaged," and then they ring out in echoing, tummy aching, tearful laughter.  They repeat this joke probably ten times during our time together.  I have no ideas why its funny.  But I laugh because laughter is viral, and they laugh loud, long and high as they grab and high five each other.


Filipino laughter is full-contact and athletic.  They shake, rock and clasp or hit each other.  It's as if one needs to enjoy this precious moment with as many senses as possible.  I expect soon someone will tell a joke and then lick my face.  


Filipinos are strikingly affectionate.  There is constant hugging, kissing and touching  - just amongst friends and including between men.  I find it refreshing.  It's a piece of foreign culture that feels more familiar than the limiting social codes of home.  But laughter, affection and friendship are general to the Philippines.  The country is full of fetching places for friendship forming, and Manila isn't one of them.  I take leave of my friends, decline the invitations for tomorrow night and the night after, and take an overnight ferry to Cebu.




Some of the friends I made in Manila:

Mikey, Japz and Ryan.  Mikey and Japz celebrate their anniversary every month - their monthsary - with a dinner party.  Japz is a stellar cook and it was some of the best food I had in Manila.  

Monthsary eclectic menu - tonkatsu, tofu katsu, homemade pesto, chicken feet. 

Jose!

Migz Yambao.  God help you if the two of us are together and you want to try to get a word in. 

People in Manila gather every night at the wall on Manila bay to watch the sunset.