Big Fish

On Thursday, February 24th Brian and I make our way down to the Kaohsiung international airport and take our second plane ride of this trip. Despite internet searching, several phone calls and even a chat or two with some salty sailors we are unable to secure a boat to the Philippines and so resign ourselves to modern, instant transportation. Arriving in Manila we know immediately, we have come to a country which is an entirely different sort of animal. We step outside into a blistering, humid environment and a dozen people trying to "help" us out. We arrange a cab and ride into town amongst ridiculous traffic weaving past horse carts, buggy guys and brightly colored Jeepneys. We arrive at a hostel, the Malate Pensionne, where we secure a great private room for $11 and set up camp. Not surprisingly, just outside the little courtyard of the attached bar is a Starbucks (grande latte 110 peso, $2) and as we walk into the street realize we have landed in the heart of the Manila bar scene.

Skipping the coffee we hit a cafe for lunch and discover a bucket of six local beers (Sam Miguel) also costs $2. What a deal! Not surprisingly this begins a long night of lubrication. As we walk the streets, all eyes are upon us. With each step we are confronted by Rolex watches, begging children and astonishing sites of poverty. Before long we find ourselves exhausted and overwhelmed by the flow of requests and unfamiliar activity. We decide to rest a short time and return to the gated sanctuary of the hotel bar and courtyard, where a lush wall of greenery and soothing waterfall provide a perfect backdrop for relaxation. After a good warmup we are directed to a bar called L.A. Cafe, a good spot for foreigners. I walk into the street to take a look as Brian drops some gear off in the room and note the new complexion of the city. As night falls the city seems to rise, streets fill with people, lights brighten and music pumps from every door and window. As usual the kids grab my arm and as I try to untangle myself I am approached by four attractive girls, too anxious to meet me. Brian comes out, impressed by my quick work and I explain that they are offering massages... and as they put it "other services". I have not even left the threshold of the hotel.

We walk toward the bar and a small dirty boy runs beside me carrying two long stem roses. I look down as I walk and he begins to poke my side with his right arm, just a stump, missing the hand. He pokes and pokes, "Give me money... I can eat." I ask, "What happened to your arm?", "Bomb", he says and continues his jab. I look up to Brian walking a few feet in front and am stunned, before my next thought, he leaves and I say the first thing that comes to mind, "Well, at least I didn't have to worry about him putting his hand in my pocket!". Brian winces at the harsh joke, and we shakily chuckle on our way.

The doorman at a nearby Hyatt points us to the blue neon sign over the door of L.A. Cafe and we enter the bar in high spirits. "Hello and welcome my friends!", a host immediately grabs us and escorts us through the bar. On our way we survey the crowd, all eyes upon us, beautiful girls all around, a few scattered white men. Our host shuffles a table full of girls out of their seats (despite my weak protest) and sits us down. Within seconds we have a dozen new friends, a girl on my lap and one on each shoulder all wanting to know who we are and where we are from. Wow! Talk about some aggressive girls, even while we'd talk to one others would be bumping and poking us for attention...and beautiful. Not surprisingly, I lose my nerve within minutes.

With an ardent desire for understanding I leave my seat and wade through the crowd heading for the nearest white guy. T.J., a young G.I. with a red ball cap, is standing, unmolested, glaring round himself to gain space while his crew is buried amongst the girls. I ask the deal, and as suspected many are working, but surprisingly many are not. I meet the waitress and back into a corner where we chat. I ask her what it's all about and she says, "These girls, they just try to find their chance, their Big Fish.", she turns and looks me in the eye, "Like you."

Thus we have found the Philippines, everywhere we go we are watched, every move we make is followed. The experience has been rich with fun, with wonder and with anxiety.