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Glenda and
Gloria - 04/08/2006
The flight
between Kota Kinabalu and Manila, or more specifically, Clark
Airbase, near the seedy city of Angeles, should be a tourist
attraction in itself. After taking off parallel to the South
China Sea the plane rises through the clouds with Mount Kinabalu
poking its nose through off to the south. Ten minutes later we
were flying over the Tip of Borneo and soon after the reefs
around Sipadan. A flight directly over Palawan afforded yet more
impressive birds eye views before descending under the gazes of
Mt Pinatobo and Mt Arayat straddling Angeles.
We left straight for Baguio in the north of Luzon, only seeing
Angeles from the window, its position as Philippines premier
sex-tourism destination preceding it. We did not know the
destination of the bus we were on and were ejected
unceremoniously in the pouring rain at 9pm and pointed toward
the road to Baguio. Luckily a minibus soon passed and took us
the rest of the way.
Baguio is located in the foothills of the Cordillera mountain
range and is famous as the “City of Pines” and as the “City of
Strawberries”. We saw a lot of pines but unfortunately no
strawberries. It was a nice introduction to the Philippines, a
laid-back town with a giant sprawling fruit and veg market and
an almost as big second-hand clothes market that smelt like
Camden Town. Just outside Baguio is Camp John Hay, a former US
army base with a rich history. During WWII first Japanese and
German nationals were interned there, and then when the tide
turned in the Philippines, the US nationals were held there.
Finally it was the site of the official surrender of the
Japanese in the Philippines. Now it is a living museum, where
one can wander through the opulent governors mansion and the
surrounding gardens, including the slightly humorous Cemetery of
Negativism.
From Baguio we headed further into the mountains to Sagada, a
traditional village with a history as a popular stop for
travellers. We were chased there by Typhoon Glenda which delayed
our bus with landslides, and closed the Baguio-Sagada road for
several days after we reached Sagada. The village is nice as are
the surroundings although the typhoon limited our exploration to
just a few hours walking. We only managed to reach the first
section of the famous Sagada caves due to slippery surfaces and
somebody forgetting the flashlight. There are also hanging
coffins and cave graves around which suggest a close link with
the Toraja of Sulawesi.
Typhoon Glenda was supposed to be named Gloria, but due to
Gloria Macapagal Arroyo being the President of the Philippines,
the typhoon was renamed out of protocol. Gloria was whipping up
her own typhoon though in the State of Nation Address (SONA)
where she, rather magically, wiped out the classroom shortage in
the Philippines, it was a rather simple trick, one that Gordon
Brown would have been pleased with, she just raised the accepted
pupil-classroom ratio from 45:1 to 100:1. None of it really
mattered though as the Filipino press were more concerned with
what colour dress she would be wearing and who would be making
it. Red, in various shades was the colour of choice. Last
year, opposition groups adopted peach as their motif to signify
their clamour for the impeachment of GMA (as President Gloria
Macapagal-Arroyo is known), while the President’s allies were
garbed in blue, in honor of the Virgin Mary whom they had
petitioned for help.
Banaue rice terraces
Anyway, with the two typhoons still whipping around us we headed
on for Banaue and the famed rice terraces there. The views are
amazing, the terraces more impressive than those I have seen in
Indonesia, especially because these ones are stone-walled, quite
exciting for your average rice-terrace-enthusiast! The most
famous terraces are those around Batad and we took a tricycle
there to see them. This required a 2 hour hike over a pass and
down into a valley and I was slightly disappointed at the end.
The terraces were not as impressive as those around Banaue,
although the fact that they rise up like an amphitheatre above
the town is quite impressive.
Batad rice
ampitheatre
After a week in the rain and wind of the Cordillera we came down
to Manila. Our bus arrived at 3am and, after searching for a
cheeseburger, we took a taxi down to Paranaque. We had the
address of a friends house to stay in, unfortunately the taxi
driver could not locate this address, despite his assurances
that he knew where we were going. We toured the streets, most of
them full of girlie bars with scantily clad Filipinas outside,
the “lucky” ones attached to 60+ western males. Eventually, at
5:30am, he left us in a bakery and scurried off with a slightly
higher than agreed fare in his pocket. The bakery staff
immediately phoned the house and soon we were collected and
taken home by the housemaid.
Manila is crowded, noisy and polluted. The traffic is especially
horrific. There is a serious shopping culture as well as fast
food restaurants on every corner. They certainly did learn a lot
from their time as a US-colony! This is the real fast food
nation. Across the Philippines there is a Jollibee outlet or
three, the Filipino homegrown answer to Ronalds place, in every
town. In fact the housemaids ordered a Jollibee breakfast for us
when we arrived in Manila! The Philippines is indeed a meat-mad
country. As Monika said "vegans would not survive here and
vegetarians would be constantly hungry!". Even the vegetable
dish in the canteens always has small pieces of meat lurking
inside. Even I am getting sick of beef and pork all the
time, whilst Monika has gone onto a chicken and squid diet.
There are a couple of nicer areas of Manila. The old centre of
Intramuros still holds some colonial charm, as well as being
steeped in history. The Fort Santiago was where the Filipino
freedom fighter, Jose Rizal, was interred before his execution,
which happened just outside Intramuros, in what is now Rizal
park. Around Intramuros is a city centre golf course, the greens
alarmingly close to public walkways and busy roads!
Intramuros,
Manila
Heading south from Manila our next stop was Lake Taal and the
Taal volcano. The views were nice but the weather was too bad
for us to linger and after chatting over coffee with an American
couple who picked us up in their car we headed on for Batangas,
the main port for ferries to Mindoro. Batangas was a nice-enough
town, a few of the usual sleazy-port characteristics such as
hotels that charge hourly-rates but not so bad for a brief
stopover.
The next day we travelled across Mindoro and halted in the port
of Roxas, one of the stops on the quirkily titled Strong
Republic Nautical Highway. This really was a seedy town, the
hotel we stayed in was nothing more than a brothel with a menu
for table service, private shows and weekly companions alongside
that for food and drinks. The Australian owner was not
embarrassed by the situation and was welcoming to either
bona-fide travellers or those looking for something else. We
escaped to our room when a BMW pulled up late at night and a
couple of rich Filipinos strolled in.
One of my favourite aspects of Filipino culture is the jeepney.
This is the main mode of transport within cities and between
nearby towns and cities. They are old army jeeps converted
into passenger vehicles. They are all brightly painted and
decorated and look like the younger cousins of Central American
'chicken buses'. Indeed, the first impressions I have of
the Philippines is of a country that has more in common with
Central American countries such as Honduras and El Salvador than
it does with other Southeast Asian countries. The close
ties with the US and obvious aspirations to follow their big
brothers footsteps are shown in the shopping malls and fast food
outlets. The newspapers here do not report cricket and
football as in other Asian countries but are suddenly interested
in baseball and basketball. The rest of the newspaper is
barely worth reading.
Jeepneys
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