Philippines – Adam Aton

On blogging and moments of clarity

It’s dusty around here….

This is my first post since my trip to the Philippines almost a year ago. I depart for Brussels tomorrow, so I suppose it’s time to fire up the ol’ blog again.

I’ve been told I’m a slow writer; I prefer to think of myself as methodical. (I’ve rewritten this paragraph a half-dozen times.) Blogs demand a completely different approach — casual, off-the-cuff, dare I say stream-of-consciousness. Rather than reconcile my habits with reality, I’ve found it more convenient to ignore the blogosphere. (Do they still call it that?)

Writing is hard, especially when you feel like it’s important to get it right.

When I was in the Philippines, I witnessed a rawness that ranged from beautiful to chilling: potbellied children climbing through sewage; a knot of spectators cheering for street chess; a government official and a rebel chatting about their families. I felt, and still feel, an enormous pressure to convey these experiences properly. Tarnishing them with hackneyed storytelling seems like a cosmic injustice, and it weighs on me whenever I set fingers to keyboard.

But if the alternative is letting those moments slip away, unexamined for fear imperfection, then I suppose it’s time to grow some balls. I can’t promise I’ll update this every day; I will say that I’m going to make it my sandbox for practicing, experimenting and growing as a writer. (And photographer, but that’s a different post.)

Motoring around Manila

Taxis are for tourists.

For eight pesos (about 20 cents), you can hop onto one of the colorful, if tight, Jeepneys that circuit Manila. They go everywhere, and in some parts of town seem to outnumber every other vehicle.

Sometimes they don’t actually stop, just slow down enough for someone to grab a hold of the back. You have to stoop through the small opening above the rear bumper and crouch-shuffle past the other commuters to take a seat on one of the parallel benches along the sides.

Then you pass along your fistful of coins to the driver, who is simultaneously collecting fare, giving change, shifting gears, honking his horn, negotiating traffic (a challenge all its own in metro Manila) and sometimes yelling into his cell phone too.

The first Jeepneys were fashioned out of surplus or broken-down Jeeps the American military left behind (thus the name). They’re often jerry-rigged out of whatever parts are available—and not just car parts. Instead of a gas tank, this Jeepney uses a water bottle to feed fuel into the engine.

Security in Manila

There are security guards everywhere in Manila: the bank, the mall, my hostel, hospitals, I think I even saw one at a restaurant. And they’re no rent-a-cops. These guys carry shotguns, pistols, batons, handcuffs and who knows what else.

On one hand, I know nothing will go down around a bunch of armed guards; but on the other hand, I’m uneasy about why so many owners appear to think they’re worth the expense. Everyone I’ve met in Manila has been extremely friendly, even in the bad neighborhoods like Payatas, but seeing these guys around reminds me to cradle my camera close to me.

(On a separate note, I haven’t seen any actual police officers around. Strange.)