Okinawan Breeze

Immaculate Waters and Beaches Served with a Mega Meal

A giraffe bent its neck over the chain link fence I was enclosed in and with its long, flexible tongue grabbed the leafy branch I was holding in my mouth. My friend captured the experience on his cellphone while other tourist groups enacted similar rituals. A group of us were standing within a four-foot-tall circular fence that had no roof in Calauit Safari Park. Giraffes encircled the small enclosure and with lethargic grace acted out what was likely a rote experience for them. Without pushing one another or making any noise, the giraffes reached down into our cage to receive their green treats. What attracted the giraffes to the branches we offered in lieu of the surrounding lush vegetation alludes me. Maybe they enjoyed the attention and paparazzi like ardor showered upon them.

In that same park, I knelt an arm's length away from a zebra as it sauntered past in the open field. The lack of restrictive supervision by the park personnel and sheer closeness to the animals provided an exotic thrill unfelt in American zoos. The entire island of Coron in the Palawan province of the Philippines imparted the same sensation—a sense of freedom and worldliness I had yet experienced. It's a sensation that in hindsight invites beautiful and troubling memories.

My friend and I intended our vacation to the Philippines to have Manila as our primary destination. We had initially not planned to visit Coron during our visit, but my friend's friends in Manila insisted we plan a vacation away from the capital city because "there was nothing to do there." Certainly Manila, a Southeast Asian metropolis, would have plenty for us we thought. After sitting mired in traffic for hours leaving the Manila airport, a cacophonous symphony of horn blasts accompanying us every crawling meter of the journey, we were glad we heeded their advice. I was told the traffic wasn't as bad as it could be because each weekday prohibited certain numbered license plates (i.e. plates ending in 1 or 2) from driving on the roads. Gazing at the stagnated traffic around me, I wondered how strictly that rule was enforced. While we sat motionless on the highway, I watched small children, clearly under 10-years old, move deftly between the cars offering cigarettes, flowers, and small candies for a meager number of pesos. Most drivers looked ahead without batting an eye.

The Philippines felt like a country of contrasts. Some of the world's largest, most opulent malls stood at the center of Manila. SM Megamall, the 13th largest mall in the world, casts a large shadow over Oritgas Center. It consumes over 5 million square feet of the downtown and hosts nearly 1000 shops, a bowling alley, IMAX theater, skating rink, archery range, and even a church. SM Megamall is only the third largest mall in the Philippines. The grandeur of this small city does not radiate far from its foundation.

Surrounding the perimeter of the mall were security guards touting pump-action shotguns slung at the ready. They all looked weary in their body armor as the downtown humidity and pollution berated them. To enter SM Megamall, you had to pass through a security checkpoint which consisted of another gun wielding security guard waving you through as soon as you approached the entrance. They didn't deign to give you more than a glance or check your bags. It seemed like their eyes were more focused on the clock hung near the entrance.

A couple streets away from the megamall and you're in worn-down alleys lined with dilapidated buildings long abandoned. Jeepneys lumber past exhaling trails of smog. These staple public transportation minibuses can be seen everywhere in Manila. These gray, metallic beasts carry Filipinos crammed in its belly like packed sardines. A few passengers hang perilously on the outside. Time, experience, and necessity often wears down trepidation though, and most of them look well at ease and text while they hang with one arm. Lines of people stand beneath the blazing sun at Jeepney pickup points scattered throughout the city. The shining red and yellow Jeepneys with smiling passengers reflected in a Google search are nowhere to be seen. Any shine or glamor these monsters might have possessed has eroded under the heel of time.