Philippines

I'll lay it on the table as it is: I hate Manila. It's a rough, violent, ugly, city with horrible traffic and overpriced hotels. I've never looked at any other city and thought, "man, this place could really use a strong military dictatorship for a year or two." The only other place I've been that has as much edge is Juarez, Mexico. You know, that place where they've found 200 or so mutilated female corpses in the desert over the past decade. Manila was a step, a small step, below Juarez.

I fled Manila to Hera's hometown of Calaban after less than 24 hours in Manila. Three hours of bus rides and 45 minutes of ferry delivered us [and the Canadian ambassador] to this dreamscape of a city. City might not be the right word, but her father tells me there are 2700 tricycles, the modified motorbike taxi's that rule this town with an iron fist of justice. That's enough to break it out of "town" category, but there's hardly a building over two stories and none that tower over the giant coconut tree's.

I can't describe why, but I've never seen anywhere like this. Crystal clear water with huge mountains islands on the horizon. Gasoline sold by the liter in old coke bottles. Everything is colorful. The weather is straight of of Key West. The people stare at me yet I wake up with Led Zeppelin playing in the living room

Everything is modified and improvised here. Hera's father is a high ranking government official and thus gets a car from the city. "It's a 'vehicle', not a car," Hera corrected me. The front grill says Nissan, the steering wheel says Honda, but it looks like a Land Rover. The city government gave him a car of completely indigenous design.

Yesterday we drove to a small fishing village to visit an unnamed island beach not too far away. I don't think I've ever seen poverty so bad as in the fishing village. It was one of those moments where my own relative wealth and fortune stood like an albatross on my neck. Everyone lived in shanty's, the same you'd see in the hills of Rio de Janario or in Lagos. Tin metal and unfinished timber loosely defining roofs, walls, and frames. About fifteen children swarmed our 'vehicle' to stare when we finally came to a stop. A tall girl stared through the window opposite of me even as I rolled it up. I don't think she's ever seen the inside of a car, er 'vehicle', before.

Though obviously most of Calaban isn't like this, it makes me uncomfortable when I see it. In China, I don't stand out too much from those around me except for the occasional transient just in from the countryside. Economically, I feel like I blend in until I invite people to my house. In that village there was no hiding it.

We leave tomorrow for Coron. I'll be offline for a bit.