First impressions.
I’ve been in the Philippines for almost two weeks now, which is long enough to formulate a first impression of the place. It’s clear to me that I have barely touched the surface; that although I see many new interesting and different things, I have a limited understanding of what is actually going on.
Two things stand out in my mind as being the most different: the climate and class structure.
It’s supposed to be 100° F (38° C) today, which, on the surface, does not sound too hot. I mean, I’ve been in central Washington when it’s been 108°, and that’s pretty freaking hot. But here the humidity is above 80% most of the time, so when you put bread in the toaster oven and start it… the glass in the front fogs up, and stays that way until it’s almost finished cooking. The cement next to the pool stays wet after you get out for hours… in the midday sun. There is water EVERYWHERE! Small drainage ditches crisscross Manila, and they always have water in them. Several nice size rivers slicing through Manila also. They are brown, slowly moving, and full of life: rafts of plants, frogs, jumping fish, and birds. Here ferns grow in the trees, their big sponge like root balls hanging out in the air. Every square inch has things growing.
Don’t mistake my awe for complaining! I love it. It’s 7:30 AM now, 80° and I’m in my shorts and tee-shirt sweating. To some this might sound like a little bit of hell, but I am soaking. My skin is clearing up… goodbye eczema and blackheads. For some reason I can’t explain I’m enjoying it. To me the Philippines are a perpetual sauna… except not too hot.
Class. Wow. In the states there are classes: many levels of haves and have-nots. It’s all somehow blurred though; rich and not so rich mingle in bars, at the movie theatre and at work. Here there are the haves and the never ever will haves, while their proximity is jarring. After I finish this posting I will go to my gym, which is as nice as any I’ve ever been to in the states. It’s in a new complex that has high-rises and posh, overpriced stores. While I run on the treadmill huffing and puffing conditioned air I’ll look out across the river to the ramshackle huts on the other side. Their hodgepodge and haphazard cubes with rusted tin roofs creating a mesmerizing spectacle. Along the river are fields with water buffalo and fighting cocks.
That these people exist is no surprise to me or most other Americans. It’s seeing their faces and getting to know them that’s weird to me. The servants in our house have it much better than most, but the idea of purchasing a TV let alone a car is beyond their consideration. Having staff is a strange experience, in ways a little indulgent. But they are better paid and work less than the people here who make the clothing that is sold in Wal-Mart, Target and Abercrombie and Fitch. Here one cannot escape the disparity that exists in our global economy.
Two things stand out in my mind as being the most different: the climate and class structure.
It’s supposed to be 100° F (38° C) today, which, on the surface, does not sound too hot. I mean, I’ve been in central Washington when it’s been 108°, and that’s pretty freaking hot. But here the humidity is above 80% most of the time, so when you put bread in the toaster oven and start it… the glass in the front fogs up, and stays that way until it’s almost finished cooking. The cement next to the pool stays wet after you get out for hours… in the midday sun. There is water EVERYWHERE! Small drainage ditches crisscross Manila, and they always have water in them. Several nice size rivers slicing through Manila also. They are brown, slowly moving, and full of life: rafts of plants, frogs, jumping fish, and birds. Here ferns grow in the trees, their big sponge like root balls hanging out in the air. Every square inch has things growing.
Don’t mistake my awe for complaining! I love it. It’s 7:30 AM now, 80° and I’m in my shorts and tee-shirt sweating. To some this might sound like a little bit of hell, but I am soaking. My skin is clearing up… goodbye eczema and blackheads. For some reason I can’t explain I’m enjoying it. To me the Philippines are a perpetual sauna… except not too hot.
Class. Wow. In the states there are classes: many levels of haves and have-nots. It’s all somehow blurred though; rich and not so rich mingle in bars, at the movie theatre and at work. Here there are the haves and the never ever will haves, while their proximity is jarring. After I finish this posting I will go to my gym, which is as nice as any I’ve ever been to in the states. It’s in a new complex that has high-rises and posh, overpriced stores. While I run on the treadmill huffing and puffing conditioned air I’ll look out across the river to the ramshackle huts on the other side. Their hodgepodge and haphazard cubes with rusted tin roofs creating a mesmerizing spectacle. Along the river are fields with water buffalo and fighting cocks.
That these people exist is no surprise to me or most other Americans. It’s seeing their faces and getting to know them that’s weird to me. The servants in our house have it much better than most, but the idea of purchasing a TV let alone a car is beyond their consideration. Having staff is a strange experience, in ways a little indulgent. But they are better paid and work less than the people here who make the clothing that is sold in Wal-Mart, Target and Abercrombie and Fitch. Here one cannot escape the disparity that exists in our global economy.
posted by Toby Johnson at 12:00 AM
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