"Wait for supports like a soldier..."

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I have to admit, there really is something that feels different as a minority. I forget all about it until I go somewhere like Cleveland and suddenly discover that I'm the only white person on the bus. I felt it again as I came into the lobby of the airport here in Manila last night. A sea of mellow-toned faces awaited, pressed against the glass walls that funneled arrivals into a smaller, easier-to-guard exit, perhaps in anticipation of visiting family members coming from any one of the many parts of the world that some 12 million Filipino people have spread to. Once I got past the intimidation factor, however, there was a certain joy I felt in the inescapable fact that I was now in a foreign country. My Grandpa helped prepare me, I suppose, in saying, "Be careful...Filipino women can be very attractive." I thought of my friend Beatriz, who was not only beautiful but had an extremely warm and gracious spirit. Some part of me expected this from the people in general here and I have to say I haven't been let down so far.

One kind attendant at the hotel offered to help my Grandpa and I get a cab to our hotel, which we soon decided was better than grasping at ways to contact the hotel's shuttle. She waited for us for quite some time before the cab came. It said it was a taxi on the outside but inside it seemed like any other car--no running meter, no GPS, no signs of regulation. Miley Cyrus' "Wrecking Ball" was playing on his radio. It was followed by other American pop tunes, some dating back to the seventies or eighties. What first caught my eye on the drive was a number of banners placed to welcome Pope Francis on a visit he apparently will make next week. "When was the last time a pope visited here?" I asked the driver. He replied immediately "1995." It seemed to be an event of some moment for the Philippines. Reading up on the country's colorful history, which includes invasions from China, India, Britain, the US, and especially Spain, I had found that Catholic influences were quite prevalent, so this attention was of little surprise. Still, to be present to see it is always another story. Every new sight is like gold for my memories.

We must have passed by hundreds of tiny, shoe-box-shaped shops and businesses on the way from the airport--many of them still open and lively at 11pm. These weren't the kind you might expect in America...some were small shoe shops, or mom-and-pop stores of another sort. Some appeared to be going through inventory, stocking shelves and the like. I get the feeling that these are as unregulated as the cab I rode in--perhaps staying open at irregular hours, run more-or-less without any attention from the local government. I remembered the fear of Chinese communism that I read once prevailed here, though relations with China have eased much in recent years. I also notice a lack of large department stores like Walmart, Macy's, Sears and the like, which I suppose leaves room in the market. Some of these shops came out of impressive, large, modern buildings. Soon, however, came the shanty towns which I knew also existed here. There is much poverty here, but it somehow seems like an optimistic poverty, fighting to lift itself up like the construction cranes that I saw in constant operation.

Our hotel, the Manila Hotel, landed firmly on the impressive side of the spectrum, though it carried more history that some of its modern counterparts. A few modern touches adorn what is mostly a historic, century old building, famed for being the residence of General Douglas MacArthur for some time. In fact on the back of the key cards to its rooms it says, "Douglas MacArthur first checked into our suit in 1935, and he stayed for six years before checking out. We often wondered if he had Manila Hotel in mind when he uttered his famous line." Perhaps its some sign of his significance in Philippine history that this line is not quoted on the key--it's assumed that the guest would know that when MacArthur left, he vowed "I shall return." My Grandpa's first visit in 1945 was a part of MacArthur's return. Now my visit is a part of his.

There's good reason to return at this hotel--terrific view of Manila bay, a very fancy, buffet style restaurant with complimentary breakfast, and they do, after all, have a grand piano in the lobby. And unlike many hotels I've seen with pianos they appear to hire people to come in and play it throughout the day. They leave a sign on it saying, "Thank you for NOT playing the piano" (emphasis added) so I haven't touched it...yet.

Waking up this morning I started to feel like I was having my first adventures of the trip within the room itself. Our bathroom had a separate shower as well as a bathtub. After wondering at the strange panel laid into the wall above the tub I discovered a remote and realized it was a TV. I stepped into the shower, grabbed the extendable shower head and turned on the water, when suddenly I felt water coming through the ceiling. There were, in fact, two shower heads. And people call Americans excessive. Yet, there's still no fan in the bathroom. Why do so many fancy hotels have no bathroom fans? Once I stepped out of the bathroom my Grandpa shared with me, laughing at himself, how he had been struggling to heat some water in the microwave only to discover it was a safe. He was having adventures, too.

Breakfast might have also become adventurous but somehow I couldn't deny myself my western breakfast with pancakes and eggs--especially when it was right there in the hotel's restaurant. I did try some savory pudding, white cheese, and a vegetable roll, though, just so I wouldn't feel like a total cop-out. The coffee was especially good.

The next several hours were spent planning out how to get to Lingayen--MacArthur's return landing point--where the celebration tomorrow will be held. I made some twenty phone calls with various car companies before finding one that was not only available but returned my calls within a few minutes. To be fair, Grandpa was asking for quite a lot--a driver that would take us some 200 miles north, spend the night, then drive us back the next day in the afternoon. I was surprised to find that our final quote came to only 15,000 pesos--roughly the equivalent of $300. The Dollar is big here.

Grandpa remarked in the midst of my planning that someone had referred to him as "Sir Jay." "I had no idea you had been knighted!" I joked. Then I remembered a tag line that I've heard him quote at the end of many a Kipling poem. To give an example from Grandpa's book,

"When yer officer's dead and yer sergeant looks white,
Remember it's ruin to run from a fight.
Just take open order, lay down and sit tight,
And wait for supports like a soldier,
A soldier of the Queen."

I admire my Grandpa's literary sense. A little while later he was on his bed reading a book when he says to me, "Don't ever read John LeCarre's A Most Wanted Man," as he lies on his bed continuing to read it. I guess that's where I get it from; once he starts something, he must finish it.

He went ahead of me when we heard the taxi had arrived at the hotel, then apparently took a spill in the lobby, which I guess compelled him to "wait for supports like a soldier..." Fortunately it was a small casualty--little more than a small gash near his left elbow.

We had a nice, air-conditioned van and a friendly driver for the long drive to Lingayen. He made a considerate stop a couple hours in at a spot he thought to be good for bathroom breaks and food. I had a very foreign experience, indeed, when I stepped into the McDonalds there, which was virtually the only food option. I'd seen seven or eight Mcdonaldses by that point without much surprise. I did discover what may be a Philippine food chain called, Jollibee. The logo is just what it sounds like--a happy, red honeybee fit to work in Santa's kitchen.

It was a pretty drive...many rice paddies, palm trees, and sights of rural life in Luzon. I was struck by the landscape; flat-flat-flat-MOUNTAIN-flat-flat-flat. Grandpa was looking forward to seeing some water buffalo. He shared how, when he was here during the war, at one point he saw some children tending to some water buffalo, and one was sleeping right on top of one! "Children could get in between them, push them around...but men couldn't do that. For some reason they tolerated the children."

A while later, when it had turned dark, the driver stopped again at a 7-11. This is the most common American franchise here from what I've seen...we've passed at least two or three dozen. Grandpa had said earlier that he needed deodorant--and I wanted Grandpa to have deodorant--so I took advantage and ran inside. I remember being disappointed by the 7-11s in China--no Slurpee machines. I was in too much of a hurry look for one this time but I did notice the door greeters, which I was not accustomed to. Three young children stood nearby. I couldn't make out what they were trying to say when I entered but they clearly were talking to me--something about the color of my shirt? Anyway, I found the Old Spice I was looking for and turned to leave. This time I understood them perfectly as they held out their hands, asking for a coin. It was not compassion or pity that moved me but the sheer delight of seeing these beautiful Filippino and having the chance to interact with them for a moment that made me reach into my pockets, making sure each of them got a few pesos. I could understand the water buffalo a little better, now.

Here in Lingayen we're checked into the President Hotel. It's not named for it's presidential luxury--there's no elevator, the rooms are very simple with hardwood floors. No separate shower and tub, no tv in the bathroom, no safe or microwave. It's named not because a president might visit here but because a president was born here. I may possibly like it more than the Manila Hotel. I stepped outside our room after settling in and saw a little field mouse running across the roof. He seemed to stop and look at me for a moment, then carry on. He had no fear, so neither do I.

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