I have spent the last four years building my consulting business here in Manila; "brick-by-brick" would be an accurate description. This endeavor has required a great deal of hard work and concentration on the task at hand. One consequence is that I have spent most of my time in this urban jungle, primarily Makati and Ortigas, with only occasional consulting forays to the provinces providing relief from megalopolis burnout.
Which means that these Pearls, with a few exceptions, have been Manila-centric. This is unfortunate given the diversity and beauty of the archipelago and the rather sordid dimensions of Manila life that have sometimes been reflected in these columns. I am reminded of this when I cruise through the "Living in the Philippines" discussion group, one of Yahoo's most popular groups with over a thousand members hosted by my friend Don Herrington. (New members are welcome!).
There are a lot of Westerners living in the Philippines who participate in that virtual community, but most live in Cebu, Iliilo, Davao, and so forth. Anywhere but Manila! Their concerns are for the most part practical and focused on their own life experiences, but I have to confess I feel like my own metropolitan and entrprepreneurial perspective has sometimes prevented me from presenting a more holistic perspective on the Republic of the Philippines.
Recently, however, I've had some development sector gigs requiring field trips to smaller cities out in the boondocks (note that the word originated in the Tagalog term bundok, meaning mountains, picked up and generalized by American GIs after WW II). Well, not really the boondocks, just smaller metro areas outside Metro Manila, and always on the run, in and out doing a job. Nevertheless, an unaccustomed opportunity to get a slightly different take on Filipino life.
I'm drafting these words while sitting (uncomfortably) at the Bacolod airport awaiting the silver bird back to Manila, this being the last of half a dozen business trips over the last three weeks. I plead guilty to a certain country-fried state of mind related to working too many hours and being under too much pressure recently. Oh well, at least the trips give me an excuse to kick back mentally and spin out a gonzo Pearl featuring some images and random thoughts triggered by the recent flurry of out-of-town activity...
Gazing Out The Plane Window
I have always preferred the window seat, partly because I enjoy watching the cityscapes/landscapes/seascapes down below, trying to figure out what's what, and partly because of a childhood fixation on the Twilight Zone and a subconscious hope that, like the young William Shatner, I'll spot a gremlin out there on the tip of the wing. One never knows.
During the recent spate of domestic travel, I have again been amazed by the sheer island-ness and rugged beauty of the Philippines. This archipelago has over 7,000 islands featuring incredible mountains and plains, placid bays and lakes, rivers and waterfalls, valleys and volcanoes. The irregular coastline stretches almost 11,000 statute miles, twice as long as the American coastline.
The volcanic origins of the islands have made them rich in natural springs and lush vegetation. The Philippines is part of an arc of islands in the Western Pacific, stretching from Japan down through the Philippines and on to Indonesia. Indeed, this country is perched precariously on the Pacific's "ring of fire," contributing to all-too-regular earthquakes, temblors, and volcanic eruptions. The 1991 Mount Pinatubo eruption is now deemed by seismologists to be the 20th century's worst volcanic eruption.
The beauty of the country is reflected in the fact that Luzon Island (Quezon Province) was chosen by Francis Ford Coppola for the filming of Apocalypse Now, one of my favorite flicks and one I once named a column after (see Apocalypse Now or Armageddon?, written at the height of the Erap administration's implosion, the film's title having provided a useful metaphor). Members of the Ifugao tribe in Banaue, home of the two millennia old rice terraces considered by some to be the Eighth Wonder of the World, played the soldiers Captain Kurtz's army and an Ifugao caribao killing ritual inspired the climactic ending of the film. Amazing.
Before I wander off into the cosmic clouds, how about some of those promised random reflections?
Your Friendly Neighborhood Vulcanizer
Given the above reference to the future Captain Kirk as a young Hollywood actor getting a break with that role on the "Nightmare at 20,000 Feet" episode, one might speculate that the many roadside vulcanizing shops one sees all over the Philippines specialize in making pointy rubber ears for those who would emulate the always-logical Spock. One would be incorrect.
The Philippines is a nation on wheels, but not necessarily of private vehicles. In the provinces, few can afford their own car and taxis are rare. Jeepneys and trikes rule the roads. Everybody knows about jeepneys, originally leftover American jeeps from the War, but now manufactured locally. These elongated and often elaborately decorated jeeps carry up to 20 passengers and represent a cost-effective mode of public transport throughout the archipelago.
Tricycles, more commonly known as "trikes" are 200cc or so motorcycles with attached sidecars. The amazing thing about Filipino trikes is that they can carry a seemingly infinite number of humans and their baggage, with load limits depending solely on the boundaries of the imagination.
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The motorcycle seat itself usually has two people sitting behind the driver (sideways, with their legs hanging off precariously). The side-car is designed for two, but a trike with only five people (the driver and four passengers) is traveling light by Philippine standards. In Bacolod I saw a trike carrying an uncountable number of young kids, a couple standing up on the back of the seat and others hanging on for dear life to the edge of the sidecar. I'm sure I saw a pail of fresh seafood, some pots and pans, and a couple of dogs on there somewhere. It would've made a great cartoon.
All these old vehicles run on rubber tires, and given the pervasively low income levels it is vitally important to keep your vehicle running - thus, the popularity of tire vulcanizing. Wherever you happen to have a flat in the provinces, chances are good there's a vulcanizing shop not far away. Most consist of a lean-to and a bench or two, with piles of old motorcycle and jeepney tires strewn about. The vulcanizer, who does not have pointy ears, uses an old-fashioned piece of rubber to cover the hole in the tire, secures it over a fire burning in an old tin can, and melts (the literal meaning of vulcanize) the rubber patch to the tire. Voila, back on the road you go.
In addition to the ubiquitous vulcanizing shops, you'll find shops in every Filipino city and town that fix electronics, cars, fans, widgets, whatever. Filipinos have a rather amazing ability to fix damn near anything. Cars run a lot longer here than in Western countries, old appliances are recycled and recycled, and very little is ever thrown away, reflecting the realities of stretching resources and making do with what's available. Westerners could learn a thing or two from the example.
"I Shall Return"
While in Tacloban, Leyte my hosts, hard-working NGO folks, insisted on taking me down to Red Beach to see the MacArthur Memorial National Park. This park, possibly the best maintained and most attractive in the Philippines, features an imposing statue depicting the General and his landing party, including former President Sergio Osmeña and the late diplomat Carlos P. Romulo, wading ashore in October, 1944. It was a beautifully sunny day, a little too hot, but the panoramic view of Leyte Gulf and Samar Island eased the discomfort considerably.
One of my friends pulled out a camera and prevailed on the guard to take our picture in front of the famous statue; I couldn't help but notice the parallel to myself in the midst of the group of shorter Filipinos and MacArthur marching so forcefully ashore with the Filipinos tagging along.
I reflected on the symbolism of Big Brother come to save the Philippines and about the fact that the Philippine veterans and guerillas who had been fighting the Japanese on Leyte and Samar before the Americans showed up never got the credit they deserved. Annual celebrations at Leyte always feature American vets and hearty accolades to the liberators, with little attention paid to the local Filipino vets, many now aged and in poor health. Without the valiant local guerrillas, the Leyte Landing would have been much more difficult and would have cost far more American lives.
The MacArthur legend was recounted in the 1977 flick MacArthur, starring Gregory Peck. The film, a well-deserved box office bomb, featured a flashback format, with MacArthur at 80 years old making his final address before the cadets at West Point, his alma mater. The film revisited the fall of Corregidor in 1942, his famous "I shall return" promise and, of course, his making good on the promise at Leyte. It was at Leyte that he made the second half of his famous "I shall return" speech: "By the grace of Almighty God, our forces stand again on Philippine soil consecrated in the blood of our two people . . .Let the indomitable spirit of Bataan and Corregidor lead on . . . Let no heart be faint. Let every arm be steeled, the guidance of the Divine God points the way. Follow His name to the Holy Grail of righteous victory."
MacArthur actually conducted three separate amphibious landings during the liberation of the Philippines: Leyte in October 1944; Mindoro Island in December 1944; and Lingayen Gulf on the northwest coast of Luzon in January 1945. Each one was successively more dramatic and each one better documented; indeed, his staged wading-ashore-on-the-beach numbers were mostly for the benefit of the newsreel cameras. However, the most famous photograph (taken by the great photographer Carl Mydans of Life Magazine at Lingayen Gulf) may have been more spontaneous. Fortunately for Mydans, the Seabees had gotten there ahead of time and laid out a pontoon walkway from the beach. As the landing craft approached shore, Mydans climbed the boat's ramp and jumped out so he could photograph MacArthur as he waded ashore.
Shoot-to-Kill: Filipino Seafood Deluxe
When you visit Cebu, be sure to visit Sutukil, a rather amazing seafood market located on Mactan Island, not far from the airport. Just tell the driver you want to go to "Shoot-to-kill", which guarantees a smile and laugh. Cebuanos smile a lot more than people in Manila, reflecting perhaps both the cultural traits of Cebu and the fact that the underside of metropolitan rot has not yet overwhelmed the Queen City of the South.
Sutukil is situated inside an oversized nipa hut nestled alongside a peaceful lagoon. You begin by walking amongst the many fish vendors, examining tray after tray of fresh fish, shellfish, and prawns, then telling 'em what you want and how you want it cooked. You might want to try such delicacies as grilled crabs or squid, garlic shrimp, or kilawin (the fish is "cooked" in vinegar).
You'll want to forget your Emily Post manners in this setting, and you won't get the maximum benefit out of the experience unless you eat with your hands. Don't worry, there are sinks with running water over in the corner for cleaning up the mess, although the smell will probably still linger under your fingernails for a good 24 hours. The San Miguel beer may not be cold enough for the American or German palate, but otherwise it's hard to find anything to criticize. And the cost is incredibly cheap.
I had thought that "Sutukil" was just the name of that particular fish market, and was surprised to see other establishments in Cebu City with the same name. Were they branches of the outdoor fish market out on Mactan? Upon investigation, I learned that "Sutukil" is an amalgamation of the Cebuano words "su" (standing for sugba or inihaw, to grill); "tu." which stands for toa or tua or possibly tinola (cooked with ginger); and "kil" for "kilaw" for pickled in vinegar.
To finish up, a quick "Sugpo on the Plane" vignette
The first time I ate at Sutukil, a few years ago, my wife was with me. Despite her mestiza origins, she loves fresh seafood just as much as the next Filipina. We ate there two nights in a row, pigging out on large quantities of fruits de mer and thoroughly grooving on the experience, fingernails be damned.
On the evening before our return, she mentioned that she would sure love to take some of those huge prawns (sugpo) back to the family in Manila; they were bigger and fresher than anything available in Makati. I of course agreed. We decided to leave early for the airport the next morning with a sidetrip to Sutukil to pick up the goods.
Early the next day we repacked our luggage, bought a plastic carry-on bag, and filled it with ice to pack the prawns in. We weren't quite sure about the protocol of inter-island sugpo transport and didn't think a cooler was cool, so to speak. But anyway we figured it was just a short hop back home, so no problemo.
We arrived at Sutukil just as the fish vendors were opening, and the prawns were more than fresh - they were flopping around all over the trays. We copped a couple of kilos of the biggest ones and carefully packed them in the bag, surrounding them with layers of ice; by the time we reached the airport they had for the most part quit kicking. We carried the bag on board without incident and carefully placed it in the overhead compartment.
The only problem was that usually reliable Philippine Airlines decided to have mechanical problems, and the flight was delayed for over an hour on the tarmac. An increasingly warm and muggy hour, as such delays tend to be on aging DC-9s. Whoops!
By the time the plane was aloft we were already worried, a worry reinforced by the unmistakable smell of shrimp emanating from above our heads. Haunted by the image of sugpo juice seeping down on some poor schmuck's head, I soon retrieved the evil plastic bag and stuffed it under my seat, trying my best to be unobtrusive.
Too late! The damn things were dripping all over the place and the smell was growing by the minute. The stewardesses kept walking by crinkling their noses and looking around, while we melted into our seats and tried to look inconspicuous. The 55 minute flight took an eternity.
The good news is that the seafood lover's god was smiling down on us and we made it to Ninoy Aquino airport without getting busted. The prawns were superb that night, and the anxiety of being sugpo runners quickly vanished.
Next time I want to be sure and bring along a couple of keys of that wonderful Cebu squid to really round out the culinary experience...
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