Arrival
When I arrived at the Honk Kong airport I had 30 minutes to get on my next plane. After going through security, I only had 10. Everything was in Chinese characters and when I was able to find some small text in English, it was completely unhelpful. I was in panic mode. I know I had to get upstairs but I could not find an elevator, escalator, or stairwell. Somehow I managed to make it across the sea of Asian faces, to find an escalator, and to arrive one minute before boarding was due to close. My flight was delayed. I had 30 more minutes.
There are basically two seasons in this part of the world: the dry season (sun and paradisiacal beaches) and the wet season (rain). I arrived in the middle of the wet season. In Manila the rain is quite different from the other parts of the world that I have known. It is really hot and there is so much rain that in under a minute you are drenched just as if you had stood under the shower.
My arrival into this city was a bit disappointing. My escort from the airport told me that we were going through the part of the city that was referred to by the locals as the billboard city. It was just that: billboards and lights in all directions.
By the time I made it to the hotel room I was so exhausted that I had to take a little nap; the worst thing to do when travelling east. I paid for it by not being able to sleep that night. When the evening began, I was wide awake and I wanted to check out the lay of the land: hotel, shopping mall, hotel, mall, hotel, offices. Unfortunately, Manila is a good example of the dangers of globalization. Even in the mall I found: KFC, McDonalds, Pizza Hut, Robinsons, H&M, Gap, Diesel, etc. I was back in LA, except that I was the only white person. I have always thought that the French were a bit too extreme in their fight against commercialism and globalization, but coming here, I am grateful that they have been able to preserve their culture and way of life despite the pressures of globalization.
First Week
The next week, I spent most days and evenings working and really only had two interesting experiences that were worth writing about: American apologies.
First American apology: I was out to dinner my Belgian boss, Lee, my Spanish colleague, Sara, and her Chinese counterpart, Tina. In an effort to make conversation, I asked Tina how long she had been married. I already knew that she was married because she had mentioned her husband throughout the course of the week. She did not respond. Assuming that she had not understood, I repeated my question. She looked horrified. I then asked her if she had perceived my question as being rude. She said yes! Apparently, you can talk about being married, but not about how long someone has been married! I apologized then and there, and then again when the others were not there.
Second American apology: Friday evening Lee, Sara, and I went to the hotel bar in an effort to have some fun despite the pouring rain. They had a great live band and so we starting dancing. When we came back to the bar, an American from Los Angeles told us that he wanted to play a game. He took Sara aside. Lee and I were concerned, but felt okay because we could see them talking. When she came back, she said that he had asked her to invent some kind of story. Looking at their faces, it was clear that no one was interested in playing this game. When we relayed this to our new American “friend”, he was visibly offended. He began to talk about how small and insignificant European countries are and then explained that he was going to lift his glass to an American soldier who, as he put it, “protected Europe and the rest of the world”. His extreme distaste, immaturity, and arrogance put a damper on what had otherwise been a great evening. I could not believe it. He was the exact stereotype of what Europeans think about Americans. On the way back to our rooms, I apologized again.
City Tour
The following Saturday, I had a private driver take me on a city tour. Things are relatively cheap in Manila and a euro is worth about 60 Filipino pesos.
What is referred to as Metro Manila is actually composed of 17 different cities, one of which is called Manila. The city is split from North to South by the Pasig River. Transportation is a real problem and the streets are jam packed at almost all hours of the day. The sidewalks were overflowing with Filipinos. The overall population of around 15 million and it seemed lake they were all right in front of me.
The first stop on my tour was the Manila American Cemetery and Memorial. Over 17200 marble crosses covered the grass lawns where more than 20,000 American service men had been held hostage by the Japanese from 1942 to 1945. The grounds were immaculate. The names of the soldiers where engraved on large marble walls and enormous mosaic maps described the battles that had been fought in the Philippines. It is incredible to think that so many soldiers have given their lives in this war. The experience was quite powerful for me and it was hard to know what to make of it.
From there we drove next to the boardwalk in order to get to the older part of the city. The streets were populated with colorful jeeps. The most popular form of transportation in the Philippines is known as a Jeepney, hand painted buses actually made from the scrap parts from American military jeeps. They are decorated in all different ways by the driver. I will have to go on one!
The next stop was Rizal Park. The park was very typical of the prominent Spanish parks that I have seen in Madrid and Barcelona. José Rizal is a national hero in the Philippines because of his dedication to the country’s liberation from the Spanish. The Philippine islands were occupied by the Spanish for 333 years and traces of the Spanish can be found in the Filipino language and Catholic religion. Rizal was a prolific poet and dedicated his life to leading a peaceful revolution against the Spanish. Interestingly, he was of Filipino, Spanish and Chinese descent. He was executed in 1896.
We then travelled to Entramuros, what used to be a giant Spanish fortress. This part of the city was walled off and during the time of the occupation and only the Spanish could enter. Inside, I had the opportunity to visit Fort Santiago, named after the last Spanish general. I also saw the oldest church in Manila and some of the colonial houses kept intact from this time period.
Just after seeing the wealth and opulence of the Spanish colonials, we passed by a part of the city that had been given to the poor. The government provides this land for a short time allowing the poor to put up shops and sell goods. Should the government wish to take the land back, they commit to moving the housing and shops to another part of the city. The streets were filled with children playing, mother’s washing clothes, and men selling cheap goods.
The driver then took me to Palacio del Gobernador, a government building where more than 80 Filipino men were tortured when the city was occupied by the Japanese during WW2.
The final stop was the Cultural Museum where I was able to put a lot of the story together. The museum was dedicated to the Chinese who had come to settle in the Philippines. They originally came as farmers in very small numbers before the time of the Spanish occupation. However, during the occupation, their numbers grew drastically. They started working as merchants selling the silk, porcelain and spice goods that the colonials then shipped back to Europe and to the Americas. These goods were in high demand and made the Chinese-Filipinos quite wealthy. They formed an emerging middle class and were even allowed within the Spanish walls to sell their goods during the day. Because of their wealth, many of them could afford to be educated and were influenced by European ideas. They were known as the thinking class. It is largely due to their ideas that the Filipino Revolution took place.
Second Week
August 1st was my birthday. Although I had remembered when I woke up, it was a stressful morning at work and I completely forgot about it. That night, I went out to dinner with one of the Korean students and in the middle of dinner I said, “Do you know what? Today is my birthday!” I felt bad as soon as I said it because I did not want to oblige her to get anything, but I just could not believe that I had actually forgotten. She got up right away and came back with a chocolate cake, 29 candles, and the restaurant staff singing Happy Birthday! I was really touched that she would take the time to do that. Melissa, is of Korean descent, but was born in China. I suspect her parents fled to China to escape the North Korean regime. She is also a Christian. It is amazing how even across continents and cultures when you talk to someone who truly believes, you can see the same faith stirring in them.
The next day, I brought what was left of the cake to the class. They too, upon discovering that my birthday was the day before, brought cake, ice cream and candles and even sang happy birthday at lunch. How warm the Filipino people are! The ice creams had a unique Filipino twist. The flavors were: mango, red bean and cheese! Who would think of making cheese ice cream? Nevertheless, upon tasting it, it was actually not too bad.
Asian people love Karaoke and Friday night, I went out to the class to a Karaoke bar. It is quite different from the way we do it in Occidental culture. The bar is actually composed of lots of different rooms, each having its own theme (e.g. Austin Powers, Iron man, Barbie, etc.). Ours was western. The room was composed of a large round couch in front of a television screen with a table in the middle for food and drinks. I got us started so that nobody would feel embarrassed about their voice! I think I would be more of a fan of Karaoke if we did like they do in the Philippines.
The next day, I went with some of the student to eat fresh fish on the bay. On the way, we passed by the mall of Asia. Asians love malls and this mall is reputed to be largest one on the continent. I was over it after about five minutes, but I just wanted to be able to say that I had stepped inside. It was truly an odd sensation to be white in a sea of Asians. Apparently, the Filipino people see us as being very beautiful. All of the ladies would smile and say, “Hello sir” before running off and giggling with their friends. I really felt like everyone’s eyes were on me and sometimes the children would point and stare. Being about a foot taller than everyone else did not help either. After the mall, we went to a restaurant on the bay and had buttered shrimp, fried rice, and lapu lapu, which is the local version of grouper. To top it off, we drank coconut juice out of a freshly picked coconut. I was grateful to finally feel like I was not in LA!
Taal Volcano
The next day, I went with the same driver I had the previous weekend to go see the famous Taal Volcano. Taal is on the list of 25 destinations to visit in the world. Paris, my new home town, is number one. The volcano is still active. It is actually considered to be one of the most active volcanoes on the island and the most recent eruption lasted from 1965 to 1977. On the way, we drove by some other volcanoes. Ed, the driver, explained that the mountains are actually still inhabited by native tribes. He referred to them as “Negritos”, or little black ones. They are in fact black with kinky hair. Anthropology suggests that the Negritos came to the Philippines before the Asian Filipino people arrived and had migrated from the Sunda Landmass during the ice age. Apparently, the ice created land bridges that allowed the people to populate these islands. The Negritos are actually related to the Australian Maoris. Representing only .03 percent of the Filipino population, they have chosen to reject modern society and continue living in tribes in the mountain regions.
We also drove through Tagaytay, a spot for vacation homes in the Philippines. It was quite a shock to see houses that look like they could be in Beverly Hills just next to the massive poor population with people still living in bamboo huts and makeshift houses made from spare parts. Unlike Occidental culture, the Filipino people have not been able to benefit from a slower transition to modernity and the contrast is striking. Oddly enough, even in their grass huts, everyone has an antenna for a TV. I thought about my apartment in Paris and how I still have not bought a TV and do not intend to.
We stopped on the side of the road to taste some freshly squeezed pineapple and the little bananas that the locals call “señoritas”; absolutely delicious. The bananas are about half the size of normal bananas and a little bit sweeter. I think I might actually prefer them to the ones we have in Europe and in the Unites States.
When then drove to the top of the ridge where we could see inside the volcano. Taal is actually a volcano in a lake, in a volcano, in a lake, in a volcano! It can be found in the Guinness Book of Work Records. Absolutely breathtaking, the lake was turquoise and the rugged edged island in the middle was covered in tropical vegetation. I could already see the steam rising off the interior volcano.
Once we made it to the lake, I took a little Asian boat over to the volcano in the middle. On the other side I was greeted by about 50 very indigenous looking people who lived on the water’s edge in grass huts and made a living off the tourists who came to visit. I felt like I was in a movie. From there, I was put on a horse and told we would climb the trail to the top of the mountain. I thought we would all be on horses, but actually the young man who had steered the boat and an elderly woman, the caretaker of the horse, intended to follow by foot. I had never felt so much like a rich white tourist in my life and could not help but feel embarrassed! I was sure that I could run up and down the hill before the elderly woman could even make it up half way. The horse was really small as well. I am not sure if he was malnourished or if it was just the breed, but I felt like he was not happy about having a bit white guy on has back as opposed to his little Asian caretaker. Along the way the older woman kept whipping the horse and yelling in Tagalog. What a trip!
Once on the top, I had got to peek into the volcano. There was a lot of steam and the smell of sulfur was quite strong. My guide told me that you could boil an egg in some parts of the water and swim in others. Unfortunately, we were not allowed to swim because there was a level 1 warning. Apparently, it was at level 2 the month before and so tourists were not allowed inside at all.
On the way back, the elderly lady asked for a tip. I only had a hundred pesos on me, which I gave to her. (A hundred pesos is about a euro thirty.) She looked dissatisfied. I really felt bad, but I had no cash. Not only was I a rich, white tourist, but I was also stingy!
On the other side of the lake, I had dinner in a grass hut; traditional chicken, fresh fish, vegetables, and rice. It was a bit strange to be alone in the hut, but the view was spectacular. From there, Ed took me back to the hotel. This was by far my favorite day in the Philippines. I really felt like I got a better glimpse of the country’s beauty and the Filipino culture.
Departure
The last week was largely dedicated to work. Nevertheless, I have made some great relationships with my colleagues who had proven to be very warm. Before I left, many of them offered little gifts and made their appreciation quite clear. I was touched by the people in Manila; their warmth, good will, and generosity. Even though I could not recommend the city to vacationers, I can say that my travels to Manila aroused a curiosity to explore and better understand the Asian continent. Just in time! As I am writing this, I am on my way to Hong Kong for the weekend.
From there I walked along the quays
of the frozen port in the Vieux Montreal and
went to Notre-Dame, the basilica on the central square. The church was
stunning. We are so in want of historical architecture on the west coast. The
church was built like the old cathedrals often found in the provinces of France.
The difference was that this church was actually kept up including the
intricate paintings on the interior walls. The colors reminded me of something
out of the book Revelations. It definitely made me feel like worshipping God. 
If I had moseyed along the river and
over to the central square, it was to meet up with a colleague from Paris who
had recently been transferred to Montreal. We spent a fair amount of time
catching up and as we walked through the city she pointed out all of the light
shows. I was lucky enough to be in Montreal for the festival of lights! She
then took me to see a rooftop lounge bar where we had cosmopolitans and a
spectacular view of the city. That evening, it was the birthday of a friend of
one of her friends and I had managed to tag along. We were a mix of French and
Canadians… oh yes… and one American; I almost forgot! We had a brilliant time.
After a drink, someone brought poutine.
This was the second time that I had had
poutine, the traditional French Canadian
dish and I must say that my first experience had not left me wanting more. It
is basically the American version of chilly cheese fries with a special sauce.
However, when your @$$ is frozen (pardon my French) and you have had a beer or two…
or three; poutine is the very thing your body must have! I guess
some things just need to be tried in the appropriate context. It was another
great night in Montreal. 
