Will the real Manila please stand up?
I don't know where I'm going with this so I'm just going to ramble para ma-process ang iniisip ko.
Had a cup of hot chai and gulab jamun (fried dough balls in a sugary syrup) at New Bombay with one of my favorite tias. We were discussing I-don't-know-what when the man sitting at the next table struck up a conversation. At first, we talked about what we thought of our food (pretty good, not too sweet) and where we're from (he's originally from Canada), then got a little bit into what he and my aunt (who's lived in the US most of her life) think of Manila.
I've always been interested in knowing how foreigners see this city (and the country as a whole). The expats I've met in the past year have had some pretty interesting insights, but I've never been as perturbed by them as I am tonight. I can't really explain why. Maybe writing this will help.
John (not his real name, as I don't actually know what that is), lives in San Andres -- a not-upscale-at-all part of Manila. He works with a big company in Makati and could most likely afford a place in the posh central business district... but he loves going home to San Andres because he says it's "real." His neighbors include drug addicts and prostitutes but strangely enough, he feels safer there than he does in Makati. Because it's a tightly-knit community, where you can leave your front door open, comforted by the knowledge that your neighbors will watch your house without your having to ask.
I guess I'm just struck by the irony of this: that a place like San Andres, a part of town I'd never want to visit, is a foreigner's favorite place in Manila. To me, it represents a reality I'd rather didn't exist (i.e. poverty). To him, it represents the beauty that is reality. I suppose it's easy to romanticize a ghetto when you know you could easily leave it.
Anyways, it's really late and I'm hungry and sleepy so I'm going to call it a night. I'm just thankful that my reality right now is a comfortable bed with fresh sheets.
Had a cup of hot chai and gulab jamun (fried dough balls in a sugary syrup) at New Bombay with one of my favorite tias. We were discussing I-don't-know-what when the man sitting at the next table struck up a conversation. At first, we talked about what we thought of our food (pretty good, not too sweet) and where we're from (he's originally from Canada), then got a little bit into what he and my aunt (who's lived in the US most of her life) think of Manila.
I've always been interested in knowing how foreigners see this city (and the country as a whole). The expats I've met in the past year have had some pretty interesting insights, but I've never been as perturbed by them as I am tonight. I can't really explain why. Maybe writing this will help.
John (not his real name, as I don't actually know what that is), lives in San Andres -- a not-upscale-at-all part of Manila. He works with a big company in Makati and could most likely afford a place in the posh central business district... but he loves going home to San Andres because he says it's "real." His neighbors include drug addicts and prostitutes but strangely enough, he feels safer there than he does in Makati. Because it's a tightly-knit community, where you can leave your front door open, comforted by the knowledge that your neighbors will watch your house without your having to ask.
I guess I'm just struck by the irony of this: that a place like San Andres, a part of town I'd never want to visit, is a foreigner's favorite place in Manila. To me, it represents a reality I'd rather didn't exist (i.e. poverty). To him, it represents the beauty that is reality. I suppose it's easy to romanticize a ghetto when you know you could easily leave it.
Anyways, it's really late and I'm hungry and sleepy so I'm going to call it a night. I'm just thankful that my reality right now is a comfortable bed with fresh sheets.
posted by gloriagiselle at 12:50 AM
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