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Asia, Day 2 | Philippines, Day 2
Aug. 18th, 2023 05:15 amAs of this morning, everyone has arrived, and we have an (exhausting) all-day tour ahead of us, starting with a trip to Rizal Park, a huge park dedicated to the Philippines' national hero and built around the site of his execution.
Jose Rizal was a late 19th-century artist and intellectual whose novels codified the abusive legacy of many centuries of Spanish colonization and helped create a sense of Filipino national identity; these novels were a touchstone of a national movement that eventually led to the failed Philippine Revolution of 1896.
It pleases me that the Philippines' most revered figure isn't a military man or a politician, but a writer and polymath (who married a Caucasian woman), though I wonder if that would have been different had the Philippine Revolution actually succeeded.
One of the park's features is a series of bas-reliefs and sculptures illuminating moments from Rizal's life (an example: https://photos.app.goo.gl/UHR3pNVY7fsnad7Q7), and the vibe is strongly reminiscent of the FDR monument. The diorama of his execution (https://photos.app.goo.gl/34W7XE1Xx1TUPpeP9) seems to echo The Crucifixion, and it leads me to suspect that Rizal's parallels to the Christ story are why he resonates so deeply: a healer and champion of the oppressed who advocated for change by peaceful means, and was betrayed by the militant wing of the movement he was a part of.
From there we move on to Fort Santiago, a fortress built by the Spanish to protect Manila in the late 16th century that, until Philippine independence, served as a stronghold for whatever power was dominant in the Philippines at any given time. As the site of Rizal's imprisonment prior to his execution, there's quite a lot here that's also dedicated to his life and legacy, but we also get some information about its role in WWII as a base of operations for both the Japanese and American forces.
It's also deathly hot and humid with a super-high heat index (maybe above 110F?), everything is outdoors, and the boys are complaining and whining. If I weren't a grownup, I would be too.
We get some respite from the sweltering heat during lunch at a place called Barbara's, which serves a buffet of tasty Filipino food. I load up on lumpia (spring rolls), pancit (noodles) and lechon (roasted suckling pig); this is my chance to get my fix since, sadly, there are literally no Filipino restaurants in the Boston area. A charming trio of musicians flits from table to table, playing requests. We ask for a couple of my Mom's favorite songs, and some of us tear up a bit.
Lunch is followed by a trip to a reconstructed villa, which provides a neat look into how a Spanish aristocrat would have lived. We then spend some time at the National Museum of Fine Arts, which showcases works by Filipino artists. Honestly, I'm not terribly impressed with the most if it; the works are generally some combination of representational, religious, or nationalist, and it all feels unsophisticated -- overly earnest and naive, disappointingly literal. (Though I do like the sketches on display.)
This has all made for a long-ass day, and after a quick shopping trip to Chinatown, we're all pretty wiped. Our day isn't done yet, though, as there's a party at my cousin's house/compound for the Juliano (my mom's) side of the family. Thankfully, this turns out to be the highlight of the day.
I don't understand how it's possible to fall into conversation so easily with people I haven't seen since the 20th century, but I have a great time talking to and catching up with cousins and aunts and uncles. Maybe that's just how family works, in an ideal world? As a bonus, some kids close enough to J & G's age are playing video games, so they find their hangout niche easily.
I could have stayed for hours and hours (and maybe gotten to play a board game or two -- our arrival interrupted a game of Parks), but we have to end the evening far too soon, since we leave at 5am the next morning for a trip to Boracay.
Jose Rizal was a late 19th-century artist and intellectual whose novels codified the abusive legacy of many centuries of Spanish colonization and helped create a sense of Filipino national identity; these novels were a touchstone of a national movement that eventually led to the failed Philippine Revolution of 1896.
It pleases me that the Philippines' most revered figure isn't a military man or a politician, but a writer and polymath (who married a Caucasian woman), though I wonder if that would have been different had the Philippine Revolution actually succeeded.
One of the park's features is a series of bas-reliefs and sculptures illuminating moments from Rizal's life (an example: https://photos.app.goo.gl/UHR3pNVY7fsnad7Q7), and the vibe is strongly reminiscent of the FDR monument. The diorama of his execution (https://photos.app.goo.gl/34W7XE1Xx1TUPpeP9) seems to echo The Crucifixion, and it leads me to suspect that Rizal's parallels to the Christ story are why he resonates so deeply: a healer and champion of the oppressed who advocated for change by peaceful means, and was betrayed by the militant wing of the movement he was a part of.
From there we move on to Fort Santiago, a fortress built by the Spanish to protect Manila in the late 16th century that, until Philippine independence, served as a stronghold for whatever power was dominant in the Philippines at any given time. As the site of Rizal's imprisonment prior to his execution, there's quite a lot here that's also dedicated to his life and legacy, but we also get some information about its role in WWII as a base of operations for both the Japanese and American forces.
It's also deathly hot and humid with a super-high heat index (maybe above 110F?), everything is outdoors, and the boys are complaining and whining. If I weren't a grownup, I would be too.
We get some respite from the sweltering heat during lunch at a place called Barbara's, which serves a buffet of tasty Filipino food. I load up on lumpia (spring rolls), pancit (noodles) and lechon (roasted suckling pig); this is my chance to get my fix since, sadly, there are literally no Filipino restaurants in the Boston area. A charming trio of musicians flits from table to table, playing requests. We ask for a couple of my Mom's favorite songs, and some of us tear up a bit.
Lunch is followed by a trip to a reconstructed villa, which provides a neat look into how a Spanish aristocrat would have lived. We then spend some time at the National Museum of Fine Arts, which showcases works by Filipino artists. Honestly, I'm not terribly impressed with the most if it; the works are generally some combination of representational, religious, or nationalist, and it all feels unsophisticated -- overly earnest and naive, disappointingly literal. (Though I do like the sketches on display.)
This has all made for a long-ass day, and after a quick shopping trip to Chinatown, we're all pretty wiped. Our day isn't done yet, though, as there's a party at my cousin's house/compound for the Juliano (my mom's) side of the family. Thankfully, this turns out to be the highlight of the day.
I don't understand how it's possible to fall into conversation so easily with people I haven't seen since the 20th century, but I have a great time talking to and catching up with cousins and aunts and uncles. Maybe that's just how family works, in an ideal world? As a bonus, some kids close enough to J & G's age are playing video games, so they find their hangout niche easily.
I could have stayed for hours and hours (and maybe gotten to play a board game or two -- our arrival interrupted a game of Parks), but we have to end the evening far too soon, since we leave at 5am the next morning for a trip to Boracay.
