I recently took a trip to a third world country- a burgeoning country plagued with poverty, mosquitos and Soap Opera superstars. This is the Philippines and this is where I come from.
Historic Filipino Town in Los Angeles is where you can find Christmas lanterns hanging all year long and health code violating Filipino restaurants serving dry beef under a heat lamp. The streets are unkempt, the people stare and the dogs have no leash; a true gem in the heart of Los Angeles. There is no pride in this “historic” town and unfortunately this is my understanding of the Philippines. I had never seen genuine Philippine land and by this misinterpretation, I had no desire to visit.
After 21 hours, I arrive in Manila and wobble towards the jet’s exit. I stood a foot taller than my Asian affiliates and immediately felt as though we were all related; I couldn’t help but smile at the fact that I was in the mother land- the land that brought us Manny Pacquiao and the yoyo. As I walked out of the airport I felt like I had walked into an armpit. The thick humidity suffocated my skin as if I were wearing a latex body suit and the smell was comparable to boiled potatoes soaking in a wet leather bag. Now I understand why Asian people always wear Michael Jackson surgical masks. I was greeted by airport attendants with warm smiles and perfect English diction, along with thirsty mosquitos and cigarette smoke.
The driving in the Philippines has one rule: F*** the rules. Get from point A to point B as quickly as you can and it doesn’t matter how many people you piss off. Yellow light means hurry up and red light is just a suggestion. Driving lanes aren’t specified, they are constantly being created. And pedestrians? There is no such thing. Metro Manila is an expert level in the game of Frogger. I heard the growl of an exhausted engine barraged down fifteen feet of open space - a rare scene as bumper to bumper traffic is customary. It struggled to transport a dozen squished passengers in a decrepit stainless steel bus embellished with colorful decals and ornaments. Imagine Liberace’s extravagant jackets draped over WWII military jeeps then wrestled in a puddle of water colors…you get: Jeepney! Jeepneys are the most common form of public transportation but no two Jeepneys look alike and that is what makes them special.
I was constantly being approached by vendors. At the sight of my pesos vendors abruptly swarmed me like a street vendor gang bang. Children, adults and handicaps come in every direction and call for my attention as they proudly show their product, “Yes Mam, you buy!” From handmade crafts to single pieces of gum to feather dusters- just as the saying goes, “Bahala Na” meaning whatever will be, will be. Whatever the vendors can sell for the day determines whatever they will eat for the night. Despite the hardships in their life of living day to day, Filipinos have an admirable attitude toward life. They choose to smile and live happily besides the fact that their clothes are torn and their teeth are missing. Life may be hard but their philosophy of life is much simpler. Bahala na.
In contrast to the unpaved roads and rabid dogs, the skyline of Manila glistened with sleek high rise buildings. The architecture, the structure and the façade displayed modern engineering. It felt as though I had entered into another world of cleanliness, pampering and luxury. Workers spoon fed me and wiped my ass; I was a princess in this world. As I walked through the automatic doors, a strong gust of air conditioned wind pushed my hair back like a Beyonce music video and I relished that moment.
“Please, no pictures.”
I continued my steps through an elegant lobby and followed sounds to a live band. Filipino musicians are talented; they have a knack for perfecting cover songs to sound like the original band. Just don’t look at the band and you may believe you are at the real concert. The audience was filled with smiles and laughter of beautiful people. The women looked elegant in their fair skin, shiny black hair and designer clothing of Channel, Guchi, Louis Buitton and Prado…it’s Asia you never know what’s real or counterfeit.
So why can’t Historic Filipino Town be like Manila? There is so much more to be proud of the Philippines than Pacquiao and Pan de Sal. I believe it is hard for Filipinos in America to take pride in our culture because Filipino Americans want to blend within American society so much that they bury their Filipino ethics in the past. For many Filipinos, having the chance to live in America is a dream therefore they are focused on all things American and lose sight of where they came from. Prior to my trip I was racists towards my own kind, call me anti-ethnocentric but I was blind to the beauty of Philippine culture. Now that I have experienced the Philippines for myself I appreciate and acknowledge my heritage with pride and respect.
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