Arrival in Manila...

UUUGH.....It's staggering to think of where I am right now, and the thousands of miles that have been spanned in the past few weeks. It literally blows my mind.  I think I'm more or less numb to it at this point in time.  Although, somethings havent changed... I AM, afterall, sitting in a starbucks, sipping an Americano, typing away on my Macbook, in the Air-Conditioning... however, I know that when I g out that door the world is very different. And as I head back to where I am staying. The contrast from what I have known, becomes remarkable. 

  It was almost a little hard to process it all as I left the Airport, and dove into Manila traffic, and even  more staggering as I left the taxi to be left along with my bags in a rushing, churning sea of people, flowing and darting every-which way, having nothing but an address and a cellphone number (but no phone :) )  I don't think I realized how different everything would be.   I felt a little like Indiana Jones in "the temple of Doom" when he is having to shove his way through the overcrowded and chaotic street  of New Delhi, on some beyond-belief quest.  It was kind of exciting... although I did have a great deal of time to really process my surroundings seeing as the daunting task of lugging my 70 lbs worth of luggage, up two-stories of steep, stone steps, through the teeming masses of people was the most prominent thing on my agenda at the time.  After fighting my way to the top of the steps and nestling my way deep into the heart of the mass that I think was intended to be a line to the Metro, I rolled my eyes and almost laughed as I saw the security check.  Every Bag had to be searched,  The process seemed to be fairly routine for the Filippino Officer, until his eyes hit the tall mass of Nylon and Plastic that made up my luggage,  I'm sure he was thinking the same thing that I was thinking and neither of us were looking forward to a search in this mess.  

Off to the side I went and after a long while, after trying to put the job off on any other available officer but himself, he finally held up the crowd, came over and began rooting through my things.   Thankfully, I didn't bring any of my bombs this time, so after the arduous process, he waved me on and I picked up my three-way battle where I left off (Me vs. my bags vs. teeming-masses of people) .    After fighting my way through, buying my ticket, getting my bulky bags caught in the turn-style, fighing a bit more, getting them stuck again, then finally lifting them over the stupid thing, carrying them down a few more flights of stairs, I was ready to be crammed (literally) on a train headed for Quezon City.  

Honestly, I don't think I had really ever, truly understood the meaning of the word "over-crowded" until this point in my life.  I don't honestly think anyone could.  Nor do I think there are words or pictures to adequately describe what I really mean by "over-crowded," however, I will do my best. 

As I stood among the masses, waiting for my train to arrive, I noticed that there was a loading area that was marked "For elderly, women, children and the disabled only."    I looked at this sing with some confusion.  Afterall it is normally only on things such as ski-lifts,  roller coasters, white-water rafting boats,  and other precarious and possibly life-threatening forms of transportation that you see special warnings for the women, chlidren, the elderly and the disabled.  But this was ONLY a Metro car, right?  Why would they have a warning like that, HERE?  ... I was about to find out. 

The train came speeding down the tracks and made a quick stop there at the Taft Ave. station.  The doors opened, and like the opening of a valve, the sea of people pushed and darted for the newly opened space, and like the filling of a cup with a power-washer,  the train was flooded with the same amount of people that to would take to fill 2 or 3 trains in the states. 

I found myself somewhere in the middle--my bags compressed upon my legs, and with one arm on the ceiling, one foot on the floor, and one perched atop my bags, the train jolted to a start moving at least 2-3 more Filipinos to fill the spaces under my arms and chin.   But that was only the beginning. At the next station I could only stand in awe (I couldn't move to do anything else)  The train, now pressurized with people, opened it's doors, and (by all means) the laws of physics would have told me the people would have spilled out.  Astoundingly, it was just the opposite.  At the next station there was an equally as large crowd to meet the train as there was at the last station. And with the force of what seemed like a hundred bodies or so shoving in concert, the train seemed to rock as even more people crowded onto the already far-overloaded train car. 

Piling out of the train and onto the bustling street of Manila, I was confronted with the intense smell of fishy-fried street vendor foods, honking horns, and yelling children.   I found Cab who was more than happy to help me load my bulky luggage into the back of his car and take me to my destination at #4 Mapagbigay St, Quezon City.  

We cut in and out of the crowded streets, passing shacks and shanties in what seemed to be a more economically deprived end of town.  Children seemed to be everywhere, filling the spaces between the shacks, playing in the streets, and helping adults with selling trinkets, food or other simple items at the side of the road. 

With some effort we found my destination on Mapagbigay st.  and I met a man who I have known for a while, but only by the internet.  His name was Nekko, and he was the Tech guy for Native-English, which is the online English tutoring company that I have been working for since early last year.   It was good to finally see him without webcam or internet.  

After settling in, and taking a quick nap I got to eat dinner with he and his wife... and sleep, perhaps had never come easier than that night.