Asia, Day 1 | Philippines, Day 1

[sen_no_ongaku]

Our hotel stands nine stories tall in the city of Taguig, part of Metro Manila ("MM"), the urban area that surrounds Manila. I don't know about the rest of Taguig, but we're in the middle of what feels like a shantytown, surrounded by dilapidated dwellings that are shoehorned into any available space, and appear to be made of whatever materials were at hand.

(The view from our hotel: photos.app.goo.gl/tF7wL5ahcGGgrpCt8)

In MM at least, there's no escaping reminders of its severe income inequality. Squalor and luxury butt up right against one another: a Mercedes dealership is flanked by shacks built from corrugated iron; unhoused folks have set up a sprawling encampment beneath the underpass across from an expensive department store. Though I have no idea how folks in the Philippines feels about it, my guess is that nobody important cares enough to do anything about it -- or even considers it a problem -- and the thought fills me with despair and disgust.

Anyhow, the poverty of our immediate neighborhood explains the roosters that wake us up in the morning, much to the boys' surprise and chagrin. The hotel offers Filipino comfort food for breakfast, and I delight in a simple dish of adobo and rice.

There's not much to do today; we're still waiting on my eldest sister's family to arrive (late that night), and so in the absence of anything better to do, we tool around a couple of malls. I introduce E, G, and J to Jollibee, a Filipino fast food chain analogous to McDonald's, if McDonald's also inspired no small amount of national pride. We pass by a church service happening right in the middle of the mall, which is jarring to me, but according to E is not uncommon in middle America.

(I'm amused to find a place that purports to serve Texas BBQ: photos.app.goo.gl/i9gQ9kfFx7NpVjVQ6)

There's an armed presence everywhere. Entering one of the malls requires passing through a security checkpoint. Officers with pistols eyeball people entering the bank. A guard greets us warmly as we enter the grocery store.

I imagine it's intended to reassure and provide a feeling of safety, and it doesn't exactly feel unfriendly or outright hostile -- but a society that considers measures like this a part of everyday life maybe has some deeper problems (see above: 
"Income inequality").

This attitude is reflected in private spaces as well. Single-family* homes in MM are more like compounds, surrounded by thick stone walls about 5-8 feet high (sometimes topped with barbed wire), and accessible only via a gate. Many of these homes are themselves protected further, imbedded in communities that you need a pass to enter, a miniature sovereignty that's sometimes enforced by men with assault rifles. This micro-Balkanization is an incredibly strange phenomenon to encounter smack dab in the middle of a highly developed urban residential area, as if there were random chunks of Somerville that were walled off and patrolled.

We have dinner at an excellent Japanese restaurant, and head back to our hotel to conk out.

*Single-family isn't the right word, but it's as close as I can come. Most households consist of not only their owner's family, but also staff: maids, a driver, and possibly their families as well.