Philippines Travel Log 4

The Ark of Manila

This is now my third time to write this post.  This computer has eaten it twice before.  If it happens again, I might end up a small Philippines prison, sort of like Midnight Express, but not in Turkey.

Okay, for Pete’s sake, we left Tagaytay via air con bus for a whopping $3.50.  We could have kept it real and paid $1 to take a no frills bus, but we are Americans and that always means two things:  We will attack other countries when bored and we will always pay extra for air conditioning. 

The ride back to Manila was uneventful and it had not seemed to change much in our short, three day absence.  We made our way to one of two parts of Manila we like to stay at, found a decent hotel, and then checked out the local scene. 

Apparently over night we slept through a horrific typhoon, but when we walked outside to get a cab to the other side of town, it was just a little over cast, and everything was wet. 

We were taking a twenty minute cab ride to be closer to the airport so that when Manius arrived the next morning he would not have to go as far to meet up with us.  The cab ride would become a life changing event.

We went about four blocks before hitting the worst traffic jam ever.  The traffic in Manila is really bad in normal circumstances, since all traffic laws and traffic cops are merely seen as suggestions and not really binding. 

After about thirty minutes we had gone a total of six blocks, turned a corner and entered a small lake.  The streets were flooded with knee deep water. 

Some cars could not quite make it and were being pushed by their occupants.  Our little Toyota taxi apparently had more spunk than other vehicles because it managed to power through.  We did start taking on water however.  Soon the floorboards were ankle deep in what I assumed was toxic acid rain. 

Every intersection was jam packed with cars from every direction.  As soon as a line would move a few feet a new car would plow his way into the hole creating what looked like a tile puzzle that you would give to a gifted kid to solve.  Unfortunately the traffic cops were not gifted kids, so there was little in the way of solutions.

At one such intersection the traffic cop was standing in knee deep water half-heartedly waving to cars to stop, or move forward.  No one was paying him any heed, so it did not really matter.  It was sad to see a man in the prime of his life with his spirit broken so completely.  I think our cab driver might have run him over in an attempt to cut off a presumptious school bus full of little kids.  Either that or he just decided to give up and let the water wash away his dismal existence.

The only person making a difference in all this insanity was a crazed homeless guy who was wearing a LA Lakers jersey.  He was standing in one of the worst intersections screaming manically and banging on cars to move.  He would often go as far as to jump in front of non-compliant vehicles and push back against them to bend to his will.  It was the most organized location in Manila on this day.

We jetted though that intersection and made it about twenty yards before hitting the next wall of traffic.  By now almost two hours had passed and we were still far from our destination.  Our young cab driver began to complain of how hungry he was.  There were vendors rolling carts full of roasted peanuts through the onslaught of water, but none of us wanted to roll down the window for fear of a sudden wave surging up and drowning us.  I thought maybe I could crack the window enough to drop a make-shift fishing line out, but I did not have any bait.

After thirty minutes of being stuck in the same location, the crazed LA Laker traffic advisor came wading by screaming and hitting all the cars.  He made his way up to the next intersection and within a matter of moments we were moving again.  He would get us through several intersections in this manner.  We would move forward and wait for him to get ahead and solve another traffic quagmire.  Unfortunately we would soon end up leaving the path he apparently had chosen to clear, and were back on our own accord.

Finally after three hours we made it to our hotel.  When we said goodbye to our taxi driver it was a touching moment.  It was as if we had just been through some catastrophic adventure and now we knew we would never see each other again.  I imagine he drove off and immediately began weeping for the loss of our company.  Or he sat cursing how little we tipped him for all the work he had just done.  We didn’t want to cheapen the moment with monetary issues.

Manius would arrive the next morning with a record breaking thirty minutes through customs and the cab ride over.  It had taken me three hours just to get through customs.  I guess I just look guilty.  That and my marijuana scented hemrhoid cream always attracts the wrong kind of attention from the drug dogs.

We allowed Manius a short nap before showing him the adventures of Manila night life.  The next day we would wake up hung over and catch a short flight to the small island of Boracay.  That is where we have spent the last few days.

Relaxing on white powdery beaches by day and enjoying ice cold beers in breezy bungalows by night.  It is a hard life, but we will trudge on.

On a side note:  I got more ink done in another third world country.  It is all part of my Hepatitis C by 43 campaign.

I am posting this without attempting to upload pics or spell checking or even previewing, because those are the exact things that have caused me to re-write this damn post three times.  You better damn well love it!

•   Comments(10)    Posted by killer on 08/19 at 09:11 PM
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