Well, the visa was a success, thank goodness. I was not sure how that was going to pan out, but glad that it did. Anywho, one of the guys from the hostel was meandering around the Robinson Mall (largest mall I have ever seen… 6 stories with a store every 20 feet, simply remarkable) and I just so happen to run into him in passing (by the way, he is probably the only guy I could stand to be around for more than an hour). We chatted for a brief moment and proceeded to see what the other was up to in the afternoon. Neither of us had plans (obviously), so we decided to hang out the rest of the afternoon, which was great, because I don’t typically like travelling around a new city by my lonesome.
After I purchased a phone (3,000 pesos or $60), we decided to go to the National Museum of the Philippines. The cab ride conversation went something like this (note the name of the museum or this won’t be funny):
Me: Can you take us to the Museum that is close to the immigration office?
Cab: There is no museum next to immigration, I don’t know what you are talking about, do you have a name?
Me: Oh, well, the museum is on the way to Immigration Office (the museum is about 1 mile from the Office and is a huge yellow building that says “National Museum” on the top)
Cab: So you want to go to immigration?
Me: Well, yeah, there is a museum over there, we will see it.
Cab: I have not heard of a museum over there.
Me: (I noticed)
Anyways, the Museum was full of tidbits regarding the Philippines culture. It shed some light on the way Filipinos see the outside world and how they see themselves throughout history. It seems to be the Filipinos are bitter at the Spanish (but not Americans surprisingly) for their colonization of, what came to be known as, the Philippines, I will have to look up more regarding this at a later time (more on colonization below). I gathered this based on some of the artwork descriptions and some of the narratives generally posted around the museum. If I could equate it to a part in American History, I would probably say (you may guess), that it is the equivalent of the English Colonizing “The New World”, even though it wasn’t new… someone was already there… I’m just saying.
Some other items to note regarding the Museum:
· The museum used to be an old Post Office and is probably the size of Union Station in Kansas City (or even Grand Central in New York).
· There was a sculpture that was of a Borock (spelling?) which is half man and half horse (check that). Which I thought was ironic, because our new president is named Barack (oh oh).
· There was the largest mobile painting I have ever seen by an artist by the name Hidalgo. It seemed to be a painting of a gladiator match that was finishing (POST LINK).
· Very religious culture and, I would say, half of the paintings were of religious figures or religious scenes (Jesus and so forth)
· The modern art room was just as disturbing and ridiculous as American modern art (just my opinion, but really… a bed that someone spray painted with different colors is not artwork… it’s just a waste of perfectly good spray paint, not to mention the sheets).
After the Museum we proceeded to walk to the largest park in Manila (Rizal Park). It was the Central Park of Manila, less about 2 million people. The park is a long strip of land that I would say is around a half-mile long and a couple hundred yards across. Down the middle of the park are man-made ponds that are rectangular. In each pond (about ten of them, one after another) there were a series of water-jets. So, in order for you to get a picture of it in your mind, think of it as the Reflection Pool (in Washington D.C. between the Lincoln Memorial and Washington Monument) meets the Bellagio water show (famous for the ending scene in the Pitt/Clooney version of Ocean’s Eleven). Kids had just been let out of school and they were playing in the park. Various venders were every 200 feet and all sold the same thing (not sure what the thought process is, but it seems that every vender in the Philippines sells the exact same thing, with a few exceptions… I don’t get it, but is it what it is (I hate it when people say that, sorry). It was quite fun and me and my mate (he’s Aussie) got a history lesson from a local man (without asking for it). Henceforth we shall call this man Perry (side note: I was going to call him Bijoux (Bonya), but I couldn’t remember Bijoux’s name when I was originally writing this. If anyone would like to learn about Bijoux, please contact Ben Olsen. Ben, you will know why as this story progresses).
Perry approached me and Lucas in a frenzy. We were just walking around and we accidentally made eye contact with him. In the Philippines, if you make eye contact with someone, it is essentially (to them) saying, “I will buy whatever you are selling.” So, needless to say, I blame myself, Perry came and talked to us about various parts of the Park. He told us about their Philippine hero, Jose Rizal (hence, Rizal Park). Rizal was the original Philippine hero for leading a nation into independence. The problem was, he was not around to see his country as a sovereign nation, he was shot for treason and for some reason, six priests were shot with him (not sure why). I am pretty sure, if there is a hell, that the persons who were involved with the shooting of the priests are there, just a guess. The assassination of Rizal caused, what I like to call, a William Wallace effect. Needless to say, with the uprising of Filipinos and too many islands to count, Spain relinquished it’s stranglehold (and gave up thousands of miles of gorgeous beaches) on the Philippines finally became an independent nation. Perry was full of information.
After he was done telling all of this, it was on to business for Perry. He proceeded to ask Lucas and me what we were doing that night (he wasn’t much into transitions). Perry, the Pimp, offered to find Lucas and I a couple of “nice girls” to “hang out” with that night… without running, Lucas and I ran away, but we got some good pictures of the park on the way out.
Our last tourist stop for the day was the H20 (water) Hotel. This was by far the most touristy thing that I had seen in Manila. It was like, again, a too-scale version of Circus Circus in Vegas meets a Riverboat Casino (I prefer Ameristar). It was quite possible the extreme opposite of anything I had seen yet. It was clean, very clean and there was a little bit of order involved. Now, I don’t know what the thought process was behind the building (or really any economic decision in the Philippines thus far), but it is just a big block on top of the ocean, supported by stilts in the water.
It wasn’t really complete when Lucas and I meandered in, but we got the idea. There were enough shops open to see what was in store for this “idea”. The inside was very modern looking and all of the stores had various “H20” paraphernalia. I wasn’t quite sure who came up with the idea to build this where it was, but there is no beach to relax on, the water off the ocean smells like the Great Salt Lake (bad, in other words), and the only redeeming value, as to proximity, is that it is close to the Immigration Office. Don’t get me wrong, I hope it does well, but I am not sure the mastermind behind it. There was one item that Lucas and I had to try however… Dr. Fish! A couple of things (you can see the pictures):
1. Lucas wore sandals that day (don’t ask, and don’t ever do it) and his feet were filthy. If we were to go back a couple days later we may have seen a few belly-up fish.
2. The fish eat the dead skin off of your feet.
3. It costs 120 pesos for 20 minutes (approximately $2.75)
4. The fish eat the dead skin off of your feet.
5. Lucas made a good point, “If it is supposed to be cleansing to have them eat your dead skin, I don’t feel comfortable putting my feet in the same “bath” as everyone else (I didn’t have it in my heart to tell him I thought his feet were gross, ironically).” This was said after we had already put our shoes back on…
6. The fish eat the dead skin off of your feet… nuff said.
All in all a very good day. I would say I have had my fill of Manila for now. It seems to me that it is like visiting Dublin in Ireland. Not really the place you want to be, but the place you have to go in order to get anywhere else. Dublin is nice and all, but the true country is shown in the smaller towns (like Fort Scott), I shall see if this holds true for the Philippines when I get to Catarman.
One more item on the day, Lucas looks like Mike (Steinhaus) and we were talking and he said he had a dropped lung… fortunately he didn’t leave it on the golf course… but I think he left with Dr. Fish.
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