Day 5. This morning I woke up extra early (around 5am), ate the customary peanut butter and banana on bagel for breakfast, finished packing, and strolled out of the hostel to make my way to the bus station. I had planned on walking to the LRT station and riding it to the bus stop (which would have cost 12 pesos), but as soon as I stepped outside I saw the rain and uttered an expletive under my breath. Getting soaked from the rain is one thing when you're in, say, Wyoming, where it's dry most of the time. But in a monsoon part of the world, as soon as your shirt/pants/bags are soaked, they stay that way for a while. So, what to do? I didn't have to think long, because the gate guard at the hostel (there are armed guards outside of almost every building here) flagged down a taxi for me. After climbing in, I told the driver my destination, but he seemed confused about the exact location in the city. So I pulled out my map of Manila and the two of us tripped over each other's sentences for a while trying to pinpoint the destination, until he raised his finger in the air and declared "Santa Cruz!". Off we went. A few minutes later we arrived in Santa Cruz, only to see that it wasn't the right place. Thinking quickly, I realized that the driver had driven me half-way, and that I had been to this part of the city before. I also remembered that there was an LRT station a block away. I paid the driver, gathered my bags, and walked to the station. Before departing the hotel this morning, I had hoped that I could get on the LRT early enough to beat the rush-hour. No such luck. Apparently every moment of the day and night is rush our on the LRT in Manila. When the first train came in, I saw that it was packed to the hilt (see previous posts for more colorful analogies on this situation). As I moved to the door closest to me, three people got off the train through the door, and, miraculously, five people got on. Well, it doesn't take a math wiz to figure out that if the car was packed when it arrived at the station, and there are now two more people in that car than there were before, a six foot seven bag toting tourist isn't going to fit at all. So I stepped back and waited for the next train. Luckily, this one was slightly less packed (I was also a bit more aggressive in getting to the door before the rest of the hoard). After arriving at the bus station I located the conductor, not the "hot doctor", and boarded the bus. By the time we arrived in Balanga three hours later, the rain hadn't let up a bit, which was quite disappointing. I was hoping to set off immediately for a hike up to Mt. Samat, where there is a WWII Shrine and Memorial. However, I wasn't about to hike a mountain in the rain. I went with plan B, which was to stay in Balanga for the night and hopefully do the hike tomorrow. I got a ride to a hotel on a tricycle, which is a comical motorcycle/sidecar combo that performs the same functions as a taxi. The tiny motorcycles that power these contraptions have barely enough guts to make the thing move sometimes, like when you have whole families piled on. The hotel is good, but still at the high end of my budget range, and there isn't anything cheaper here.
It has been raining all day, so I've mostly stayed in the hotel, watched TV, read my book, and done more planning. When the rain has taken a break from falling, I've been venturing out to get food, exchange money, and see the town. But the rain doesn't break for long, so I invariably end up bee-lining it for the hotel when the down pour resumes. That's my day.
Now let me say something about Filipinos. They are very nice people, very polite, and infatuated with my height. When I first arrived in Manila I was nervous and anxious about the stairs I would get, but I've since realized that people are looking at me because I'm basically a walking lighthouse. Tall and white. A lot of people ask me how tall I am, or at least put their hand way above their heads in a recognition of how tall I am compared to them. I usually just smile, chat for a few sentences, and carry on. And because basketball is popular, I usually get asked if I play in the NBA. I try not to laugh and just smile politely.
Sometimes the Filipino eagerness to serve catches me off guard, like last night at the Indian restaurant. When the waiter came to take my order, the owner butted in halfway through to finish taking my order, and he had an assistant standing next to him to ensure that I had everything I needed. At the hotel this morning the porter, desk clerk, and security guard all rushed to my side to answer my questions and make sure I got what I needed. Sometimes it can be a bit overwhelming, but I suppose it is better than being ignored.
Speaking of security guards, they are everywhere. Some are armed with various firearms. I'm not sure how the security company operates, but all the guards wear the same uniform. And I always see guards in front of every mall, bank, restaurant, hotel, pawnshop, or any store where something of value is sold. I'm not sure what to think of them. Sometimes I feel safer that they are there, even if they are carrying loaded weapons and I find myself questioning how often they practice shooting and handling them. Other times, though, I see them restocking shelves in the convenience stores they are guarding, or sweeping up the sidewalk out in front of the restaurant they're assigned to. Security guard/stock boy/janitor? Huh. Again, I'm not sure what to think. I guess in the end I'm glad they are there, even if just to serve as a deterrent for would be bad guys.
Well, hopefully my hike tomorrow will work out. If it is still raining tomorrow, I'll be forced to continue on. There's not much to do around this town except for the hike, and the rain here could go on for days. Maybe I can swing through on my way back south in a few weeks.
I hope everyone is doing well in other parts of the world. Take care.
Pat
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