Thrillah in Manila

It's been cool here, with a quiet, constant wind. Some afternoons I can just sit in the lanai at my brother's house and watch it in the coconut, mango, and banana trees. Sometimes it gets hotter and it feels like it will rain, but only drizzles a bit, but enough for caterpillars to come out and insects to crawl into the lanai. So I light a katol (kind of like an incense that keeps mosquitos away) and fall in and out of a siesta on the bambaoo daybed.

Not far from these quiet places, is a dense city. Full of mishaps and things that are just the way they are. There have been three major fires around manila within the last week, each severe in it's own way, each the homes of people we knew. And for each home, a chance a loved family member could have been in that home.

Bastard faulty fucking christmas lights, made in china, on one wire, with a grand total saving of 40 pesos at the time of purchase, and creating a ridiculously huge loss.

We passed the black remnants of one house, which was basically a charred roof on the ground. The firemen were in shorts and tshirts, the only way you could distinguish them was from their hats. And with the other burning homes, having to pass through heavy gridlock traffic, they were already burned to the ground when the firetrucks arrived. There were two deaths among of these three fires. One, a sixteen year old girl, the daughter of the Speaker of the House (who ran for president in the last election). Unfortunately, this tragedy, and an official's daughter's tragedy at that, is what it will take for this government to get their fire department's shit together, the sound of her screaming into her cell phone from under a wet blanket in her bathtub. The other death, was her dog.

I realize how much I take for granted living in America, where firemen have gasmasks and protective clothing and can run into burning buildings and carry people out. Where Christmas lights have to pass a test and people can sue companies who make them if they are faulty. Where people install alarm systems, and houses don't have bars on the outside and bullet proofed windows that firemen can't break.

On the other hand, there is something beautiful about this chaos, a certain set of rules that don't exist that makes me love it here. I got takeout chicken wings and brought it into the restaurant next door because I wanted to have them with the salad there, and the waiter brought me a plate so no one would see I brought in food from somewhere else. You always get a massage with your haircut. It's not considered rude to talk and text at the same time. There is food everywhere, and people will always invite you to eat with them, no matter how many people or what time you arrive. You can drive like a maniac. You kiss people you've just met on the cheek. There are always people you don't remember- but you can always call them tito or tita (uncle or auntie) and find out their names later. You can eat rice and spaghetti on the same plate.

Manila seems different to me, or perhaps it may just be me. It's somehow easier to be here. It may be that it's not so far from the western world aanymore, in terms of the consumer side of things (starbucks, roxy, bridget jones' diary, ludacris, l'occitane en provence, el pollo loco), but it's still rough around the edges. We have lanes painted on the roads and more stoplights now, but still no one pays attention to them really. At the same time, all my nieces and nephews (ages 4-8) are on friendster and can pick up their friendster messages on their nokias after they text their moms to pick them up from soccer or riding or karate or whatever.

More than anything, I think for the first time, it's really truly lovely to see my family, it seems many of us have gotten over the bullshit, over the drama, have put away an old life and are moving with the momentum of this one. And I'm not without sleep or pedicures or all those things that make you feel good that you can't afford or have no time to do when you're working a million hours a week. This feeling good thing- I could get used to it. In fact, I'm getting pretty used to it pretty damn quick. and i love it.