We touched down at Ninoy Aquino International Airport's Terminal 1 for the first time in six years. Just an hour and 20 minutes before that, we were out of breath after running to our departure gate at Hong Kong International Airport. We received last minute boarding passes to the afternoon flight to Manila. And just 12 hours before that, we were at Auckland International Airport, preparing for takeoff.
The first thing I notice about Manila - and the thing I keep noticing - is the overwhelming recurrence of density. The lines at immigration were manageable enough, but once we got to baggage claim, the crowd around the conveyor belt was around 3-4 people thick all the way around. The whole area is lit in sickly yellow light.
As a child, I've passed through this place hundreds of times. It hasn't changed much. Except the tourism ad banners that draped the walls bore the new slogan decreed by the government: "More fun in the Philippines". Everything is more fun in the Philippines when you view it through rose-tinted glasses.
Even the air is dense in Manila. We step out into the arrival hall, which is an open area, and we immediately start coughing and sputtering. It's not the smell of exhaust fumes that get to us, but the hot air, which felt heavier than what we're used to. We were still in clothes we wore from Auckland, which stood up well against the cold temperature of the plane, but they were not the right clothes for the 32-degree Manila evening.
Our relatives were already there waiting for us. The car's AC unit is blowing cool air. We gratefully relaxed against the seat - though we were packed in like sardines, with our six suitcases and all - and drove out of there.
The roads and buildings neighbouring the airport remained unchanged, too.
I'm not sure if road rules exist in the Philippines. The intersection that turns into Macapagal Avenue, one of Manila's busiest roads, resembles a giant pedestrian scramble in New York or Tokyo. Except that it's not just people who are navigating traffic, but private vehicles, mopeds, bicycles, tricycles, taxis, jeepneys, buses and kalesa (horse-drawn carriages) are all sharing in the chaos, too.
The rule of thumb is "my way", not "give way". I've only seen one roundabout but the concept of "right of way" has been thrown out the window years ago, it seems. And if they could, they would do the same to the concept of stopping during a red light.
No one keeps to the lanes. No one indicates when they want to turn or switch lanes. It was dark at eight o'clock at night, but some didn't have headlights on. Pedestrians don't even look at you as they try to cross the road. I'm surprised we didn't hit anyone, or even came close.
Honking your horn is the language of the streets. I know that back in Auckland, people only honk the horn if you've fucked up real bad.
My parents try to tell me that it's always been like this, even when we were living here. But that same tone of shock is in their voice; I don't think they believe what they're seeing, too. According to my father, Macapagal Avenue used to have three lanes going each way. Now, there are four lanes.
But really, it's more like six or seven, if we really wanted to pin down a number for something so arbitrary. They didn't even expand the road. They just painted on new lines.
The distance from the airport to my aunt's house is about the distance from the Te Atatu motorway exit to Wellesley Street. At 8PM, I could do the drive in 15 minutes. But in Manila, it took 2 hours. Longer than the flight from Hong Kong.
Living is dense, too. Residential and commercial areas are squashed together. People don't have front yards and their backyards are only big enough to hang laundry in. I saw a park, but there was no grass. Just some trees to provide shade, and a dilapidated playground. Most of the people who set foot in there are street vendors or the homeless.
Just around the corner from my aunt's house, there are shantytowns next to big gated houses, next to rubbish tips, next to schools, next to carinderia (a cheap, short-order eatery, similar to a diner), next to corner stores selling soda for 5 pesos a bottle. And then sometimes, a house would be right next to a popular fast food chain, or even a petrol station.
Urban planning. It's more fun in the Philippines.
The mall we went to was said to be smaller compared to others, but it was five times the size of Sylvia Park, and it was open for 13 hours a day. The whole population of West Auckland could have fit in one of their parking buildings quite comfortably.
There were floors dedicated to furniture shops, floors dedicated to gadgets, floors dedicated to clothes. You name it, they've got it.
People walk in swarms. They don't keep right. They stop randomly while walking, not even bothering to step aside. They push their prams and shopping trolleys right up behind me, often snagging the backs of my shins, or the ends of my jandals.
Hardly anyone wore jandals. They stared at my family, who were all wearing jandals. Some of them bewildered, others disapproving. So much for blending in with the crowd.
I wasn't carrying a bag, just a cheap burner phone in my pocket. The security guards found this odd. I got frisked about three times.
My little brother acutely pointed out that the Philippines is backwards, "except for the malls".
I can't help but wonder if money is going in the right place.
Why build such lavish places when by the time you get there and find a parking space, you're sweaty and bad tempered? Why would you have such elaborate outdoor walkways going from one area of the mall to another when residential streets don't even have proper footpaths?
The shops here are better, there's more variety, dining out is cheaper, cars are flashier and more expensive. But let's not even pretend there's nothing fundamentally wrong with this country when middle class folk like my aunt carry around goods or money to bribe traffic enforcers, or a contact number of someone high up in the police force, in case someone threatened to arrest them for some petty reason.
Large, dense cities can work. We know that. Why isn't Manila working? I suppose it's thriving, somewhat. It has its method to chaos, but having a well-functioning city doesn't end and begin with having three or four high-end shopping malls adjacent to each other.
Most of my excitement in visiting Manila has worn off, and it's only been over twenty-four hours since I landed.
Denial. It's more fun in the Philippines.
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