Roads Of Rivers

Typically, after wanting an easy morning, I managed to do twenty minutes of sightseeing before the heavens opened and it started hoying it down. This isn't English summer drizzle either, it's full scale tropical torrential rain, indeed had it not been for the light wind, this would almost be monsoon weather. June is the start of the six month wet season here (July and August are by far the wettest months, when it typically rains forever) and I had hoped I would just about avoid it. During my first two days here I largely did - the rain being confined to the night time when I have been told by many people not to venture out alone - but today things have taken a turn for the worse. Of course, I was going to have access to a car today, kindly offered by Louis's parents but that fell through as the driver isn't available. Judging by the weather, maybe that's a blessing rather than a disappointment.

It's frustrating but there's really little else I can do aside from sit in the hotel with a beer. Even an umbrella, which I don't have anyway, won't help as after fifteen minutes of this, the roads became rivers with water four inches deep and trash floating down it towards the drains. There is so much rain that it bounces off the surfaces and the drainage systems simply cannot cope. As I have said, the roads are now rivers with their own current systems and while cars are just about navigating through them, it is advisable to stay indoors and wait for it to relent. Sadly that could take hours, of Tuesday evening is anything to go by.

I did manage to have a look at nearby Paco Park and Cemetery though, a circular walled cemetery with a beautiful garden and fountain (the latter of which sadly wasn't working). Built in 1820 just in time for the victims of a cholera epidemic, the centre is dominated by the circular classical rotunda with gorgeous deep blue windows. The area is most famous as the place where Jose Rizal - doctor, author and reformer whose works lampooned the colonial Spanish in the late nineteenth century - was buried after his execution on 30 December 1896. He was accused of masterminding an armed uprising against tue Spanish in August of that year, even though he was a moderate. His "martyrdom" was the spark that ignited The Philippine Revolution. He was interned in an unmarked grave, but his sister observed guards standing beside a mound of freshly dug earth and she convinced the cemetery guardian to mark the spot as her brother's grave. In 1898, Rizal's bones were exhumed and given to his family until 1912, where he was buried elsewhere. The park is well-known for its serenity, or relative serenity at least as there is still a major road next to it on which stands a major factory, and I'm glad I managed to see it before having to dodge the rain, eventually having to take a tricycle the fifty yards back to my hotel to prevent myself from getting wet and my shoes from being drowned in the road rivers.

We Are Lost In Time (In My Dreams)

The rain stopped at around 4pm, around two hours after it had started, but the problems still remained. The drainage systems here are far from good and, combined with extra usage due to the rush hour traffic, the next three hours were nothing short of commuter hell. There were queues literally half a mile long pouring out of the MRT station while the major junction on which my hotel stands (Taft and United Nations if you want to Google it :P) was completely gridlocked. The block where my hotel is became an island, again quite literally, as up to six inches of stagnant water sat on the roads, going nowhere, very much like the traffic.

Apparently this is normal, particularly in downtown Manila, where I am, which is more prone to flooding than anywhere else in the metro area. With little hope of getting out, the only thing I could do was to hang around the hotel, drinking beer and hoping the situation would improve. After all, the only way I could get anywhere would be to become a beggar child and walk around the city barefooted, which is what many of the locals had resorted to. This was also the case for Toothless, my primary contact here who had been at university all day. As his late night class was cancelled and my hotel is on his way home, he proposed to drop in to see me, having failed to visit me during my first three days here. He tentatively told me 5pm but it wasn't until 6.15pm when he arrived. It was great to finally meet him and to discuss plans for the weekend, when a modest local furmeet has been proposed. We also had half an hour of idle chatter before he said he must go, fearing for his safety in the city as night started to draw in. His family were also texting him to enquire as to his whereabouts.

Since I have been here, everyone has warned me about going out at night, fearing for my safety should I venture out on my own. While I understand their concern, I was also frustrated by having achieved very little during the day and didn't want to waste a day in a foreign country. With the rain stopped, I decided to pop over to a local 24-hour shop and pick up an umbrella, which looks like it will be a necessity over the coming days. With the streets now largely water-free and many people milling about as the rush hour was coming to an end (it was 7.30pm by this time), I decided to venture beyond the confines of General Luna Street and up to nearby Rizal Park, which had been my next intended port of call before the rains had hit earlier.

In terms of safety, it was the traffic rather than the unscrupulous that was the main threat. As I have mentioned before, to cross the road here, you have to step out and hope, navigating your way around the moving traffic, holding out your hand if necessary to stop it. Red doesn't mean stop here, with cars streaking through red signals with impunity. And the sheer volume of traffic, with it coming at you from every direction is very debilitating, particularly at night. That was the main hazard as the volume of people meant I wasn't fearful of anything else - I find a lack of people to be more scary - while there were plenty of families and children about not to be worried.

Indeed, the only main issue was the occasional beggar, who pestered for money, knowing that being a Westerner, you are likely to be richer than most here. The locals staring at you is one of the most debilitating things here really, it's more inquisitiveness than threatening but it is odd to have various eyes following you around wherever you go.

Anyway, Rizal Park is only a five minute walk from my hotel, provided you can navigate the traffic easily, and I was soon walking through a very well-kept area replete with statute, commemorative monuments and a giant pool upon which is places a giant relief map of the Philippines. This is one example of the profligate spending of Imelda Marcos, who notoriously spent vast sums of government money on prestige projects (as well as shoes of course - there is a museum in the city dedicated to her shoes) during the Seventies and Eighties as governor of Manila.

Rizal Park was set up in traditional colonial style and indeed is known more by its Spanish name of Luneta. It has a range of interesting monuments including those in dedication to the Philippino lives lost in the Korean War between 1950 and 1953, as well as to the enduring friendship between the two nations. The most poignant is the Soul Wave, a steel wave structure symbolizing the defense of both nations' coastlines, alongside a statue of a fallen Korean soldier helped by two Philippino comrades. A Japanese Garden, which was sadly closed, as well as an Orchidarium also line the perimeter of the park, alongside various important buildings including the National Library and Hotel Manila.

Rizal Park is very important politically, for a number of reasons. This was the place where pacifist reformer Jose Rizal was martyred following his execution on 30 December 1896. There is a diorama depicting these events alongside a poignant memorial to the man whose killing by firing squad sparked the Philippine Revolution. To the south of this stands the impressively solid edifice which is the Rizal Monument. A white pinnacle is flanked by images of the great man, marking the place of his tomb. It was built in 1912. Shortly in front of this is a 31m tall flagpole on which flies a giant Philippine flag. It was here on 4 July 1946 that Harry S Truman granted the Philippines full independence from the United States. Manuel Roxas was also sworn in as first president of the new republic at the same time (I will fill you in with some very brief history - the Philippines uprising against Spain took place in 1897. In 1898, the US declared war on Spain over a dispute over Cuba and as part of this, the Americans wanted the Spanish out of the Philippines. The Americans and Philippines were allies, defeating Spain on 30 April 1898 but once the Spanish had left, the Philippines fought the Americans for independence. The war lasted from 1899 to 1902, killing over 4000 Americans and 600000 Philippinos. The Americans assumed control but there was debate on how much autonomy the Philippines should have. They did inculcate the locals in American ways thigh through a nationwide schooling program, which is why English is one of the two primary languages here. Like with so much, World War Two changed politics across the globe).

Other memorials include busts to major Philippino figures, a statue commemorating the executions of three priests who were garroted by the Spanish for their alleged conspiracy in an uprising in nearby Civite in 1872 and the Lapu-Lapu Monument, a gift from Korea to honour all freedom loving Philippinos who aided them in the Korean War. All of this is fascinating stuff of course but fundamentally Rizal Park is a relaxing place to stroll around, even at night, with many friendly locals saying hello and security guards and tourist police everywhere looking out for everyone's safety (indeed every store here has its own security guard, not sure if that's because it's an unsafe place or whether it's a preventative measure, making it safer).

I decided to walk another way back to the hotel after an hour of nighttime naughtiness, calling in at a Jollibees on the way home for some noms. I had a Crunch burger this time - swimming with mayo and BBQ sauce - along with sour cream criss-cross fries, which were coated in flavoring as if they were crisps. This was more substantial than my paracetamol offering from Monday. The staff at Jollibees are exceptionally friendly, delivering my order to me by skating across the floor and even telling me when I splurged mayo all over my face. Interestingly, they also do a delivery service here, like McDonald's and the other fast food outlets do too. Wonder if that would take off in Britain.