Wow. So. Paul and I are in the Philippines now! I know, totally crazy. From Africa to Southeast Asia. I don't know what I was thinking when I booked this trip. To say that things are different here doesn't even begin to cover it.
It smells different. It looks different. The people behave differently. Poverty looks different. Affluence looks different. The food is different. The legacy of colonialism is different. And that's just the beginning.
To make a long story shorter: Magellan "discovered" the Philippines in 1521, got hacked to death by natives, Spain persisted, named the islands after the soon to be crowned Prince Philip, stuck around for a long, long time and converted most everyone to Catholicism (only majority Christian nation in Asia, though Muslim's represent in the south); the Filipino people (weird spelling I know, but some how correct) kept trying to get the imperialists off their back while other nations tried to jump on, mostly unsuccesfully (although I think the British suceeded for like a month or something like that); during this time the Chinese kept coming in (I say 'kept' because they'd been doing it for thousands of years before Magellan's little discovery, in addition to Malays from Indonesia); in 1897 after lots of blood lost (mostly Filipino), both sides signed an armistice to try to hold things together; the US had a beef with Spain over Cuba the next year and thought it was as good a time as any to make a play for the Philippines, who's people fought on their side, hoping for independence, which they didn't get until after the Filipino-American War which has been compared to another war in south east asia, as it used similar nasty tactics; anyway, Filipino Independence was sort of achieved on July 4, 1902 (I know I don't have to point out the irony, but I just did), but wasn't officially achieved until 1935.
So. I guess that wasn't the short version, but I did my best. What all this means is that Tagalog has a ton of Spanish words in it and there are American brands and chains EVERYWHERE. 7-11's on every corner, I kid you not. It's been called the most American country outside of America, and Filipino's sometimes call themselves brown American's. Which is weird. But I think it's maybe a good place for people to travel who haven't been to Asia before. Sort of like, Asia with training wheels. Signs are in English, and you can get a Big Mac. And chorizo.
I have more to say about differences with Africa, and Uganda in particular in relation to our documentary, but I think maybe this is enough for one post. I hope you enjoyed my (hopefully completely accurate) history lesson!
I can't believe we have less than a month before we come home! I have to get to work!
xoxo Erin
Showing posts with label first impressions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label first impressions. Show all posts
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
from point a to point b
After arriving in Mbale, Uganda on a 10 hour overnight bus ride from Nairobi, Lisa and I emerged bleary eyed at the bus stop in search of transportation to our hotel.
We looked to the left. No cabs. We looked to the right. No cabs... but a suspiciously large group of boys on motorcycles. And so the boda boda makes it's first appearance on our African adventure. Ubiquitious across Uganda, but for some reason not seen (by us anyway) in Kenya or Ethiopia or Tanzania, the boda boda is a little motorbike (or bicycle) with enough space for the driver and one (or 2, if squished) passengers. Never helmeted, and never approaching a speed less than that of light, or a bullet, bodas are the ride of choice for tons of Ugandans.
Boda bodas originated on the Kenyan-Ugandan in the 1960s and 1970s as a way to get between the two border posts without going through the hassle of vehicle registration. The boda boys would shout "boda-boda" (border border) which is how they got their name. In Uganda now there are an estimated 200,000 professional bicycle boda boda drivers, and 90,000 professional motorbike boda boda drivers.
When riding a boda (after negotiating a price, which usually equals about $1 USD no matter where you're going) ladies who are not prostitutes generally sit side saddle, while men sit in the safer, "cowboy" style, straddling the bike. The women often do this while carrying groceries, baskets, or even more terrifying: babies (as usual... women doing all the work and hard stuff and men enjoying the ride, I swear it seems to be an African theme, don't even get me started).
Our first ride in Mbale was notable as we both had to carry our giant (GIANT) bags on the bikes with us. Lisa's wore hers, mine was tethered to the back of the motorbike using a thin piece of rubber. Halfway there the rubber snapped off hitting me in the face (ouch), but more importantly, leaving me to keep myself and my giant (GIANT) bag on the speeding motorbike of death. Luckily, we got there in one piece... but the fun wasn't over yet!
In order to get back into town, after we stowed our giant (you get the picture) bags, we had to flag down a bicycle boda boda. As it turns out, bicycle boda bodas like me just about as much as I like them. The boda boy that was carrying me had a lot of trouble getting started (Lisa contends he didn't know what he was doing, I think I was too much woman for his bike). He couldn't quiiiiite get us balanced, so we'd lurch forward and then tilt over... and repeat... and repeat... and repeat. By the time we'd gone a few meters we were pretty much the best entertainment in Mbale, judging by the crowd of Ugandans, laughing behind their hands. I eventually jumped off and found a stronger, more experienced boda boy. But I've vowed to never get on another bicycle boda ever again... a promise I've kept so far.
Now that Paul's arrived, we've been taking seperate boda bodas to and from the matatu (mini bus) park (previously, Lisa and I would save 50 cents by piling onto one, but it's much less enjoyable). It's super fun (especially since Lisa and I have abandoned all illusions of ever riding like "proper ladies" and sit "prostitute style" instead), if slightly terrifying. In Kampala, there is always tons of traffic, but the boda bodas don't really heed by any rules. They swerve through moving and stopped cars buses, and trucks, drive on the wrong side of the road, and take steep, off road shortcuts... in short, it's a BLAST.
We looked to the left. No cabs. We looked to the right. No cabs... but a suspiciously large group of boys on motorcycles. And so the boda boda makes it's first appearance on our African adventure. Ubiquitious across Uganda, but for some reason not seen (by us anyway) in Kenya or Ethiopia or Tanzania, the boda boda is a little motorbike (or bicycle) with enough space for the driver and one (or 2, if squished) passengers. Never helmeted, and never approaching a speed less than that of light, or a bullet, bodas are the ride of choice for tons of Ugandans.
Boda bodas originated on the Kenyan-Ugandan in the 1960s and 1970s as a way to get between the two border posts without going through the hassle of vehicle registration. The boda boys would shout "boda-boda" (border border) which is how they got their name. In Uganda now there are an estimated 200,000 professional bicycle boda boda drivers, and 90,000 professional motorbike boda boda drivers.
When riding a boda (after negotiating a price, which usually equals about $1 USD no matter where you're going) ladies who are not prostitutes generally sit side saddle, while men sit in the safer, "cowboy" style, straddling the bike. The women often do this while carrying groceries, baskets, or even more terrifying: babies (as usual... women doing all the work and hard stuff and men enjoying the ride, I swear it seems to be an African theme, don't even get me started).
Our first ride in Mbale was notable as we both had to carry our giant (GIANT) bags on the bikes with us. Lisa's wore hers, mine was tethered to the back of the motorbike using a thin piece of rubber. Halfway there the rubber snapped off hitting me in the face (ouch), but more importantly, leaving me to keep myself and my giant (GIANT) bag on the speeding motorbike of death. Luckily, we got there in one piece... but the fun wasn't over yet!
In order to get back into town, after we stowed our giant (you get the picture) bags, we had to flag down a bicycle boda boda. As it turns out, bicycle boda bodas like me just about as much as I like them. The boda boy that was carrying me had a lot of trouble getting started (Lisa contends he didn't know what he was doing, I think I was too much woman for his bike). He couldn't quiiiiite get us balanced, so we'd lurch forward and then tilt over... and repeat... and repeat... and repeat. By the time we'd gone a few meters we were pretty much the best entertainment in Mbale, judging by the crowd of Ugandans, laughing behind their hands. I eventually jumped off and found a stronger, more experienced boda boy. But I've vowed to never get on another bicycle boda ever again... a promise I've kept so far.
Now that Paul's arrived, we've been taking seperate boda bodas to and from the matatu (mini bus) park (previously, Lisa and I would save 50 cents by piling onto one, but it's much less enjoyable). It's super fun (especially since Lisa and I have abandoned all illusions of ever riding like "proper ladies" and sit "prostitute style" instead), if slightly terrifying. In Kampala, there is always tons of traffic, but the boda bodas don't really heed by any rules. They swerve through moving and stopped cars buses, and trucks, drive on the wrong side of the road, and take steep, off road shortcuts... in short, it's a BLAST.
Monday, March 23, 2009
first impressions of cairo.
after that mega picture post I want to go to bed. but, we're leaving cairo tomorrow morning to aswan, which will be the start of our cruise up (down? the nile is a confusing river... it runs north!) the Nile, and I think internet will be spotty from here on out. so...
Cairo is a smelly (burning oil from the old cars), dirty (really really dusty... it's a desert! but also excrement and cigarette smoke), crowded (I think like 11 million people live in Cairo proper, which is really nuts, I think more people live here then in all the rest of Egypt combined, but Lisa will have to confirm) town. I have to say I was COMPLETELY overwhelmed just driving from the airport to the hotel. While Lisa went for a walk, I bunkered down in the hotel, took a shower and watched American TV to comfort myself. We went to dinner and were approached by a zillion people wanting to show us how to get where (for a fee of course, running theme in Egypt). Additionally I wore a skirt (to the knees!) and felt totally uncomfortable... it was really too much for me. Sensory overload.
But after spending today out and about, while I think my first impressions are totally valid, I also think it's been an important lesson in not judging a country solely by the first few hours you're there. As it turns out, Cairo is also a beautiful, ancient, lively city full of people who will go out of their way to help you if you look lost and really want you to enjoy your time here (sure it may be because then they'll have people to pay their taxi fees, and buy their scarves... but I don't think that makes it any less pleasant).
So, while my eyes are still stinging from being outside today, and I'm totally put off and intimidated by the aggressive nature that pervades the big markets and major tourist spots... I also saw one of the most beautiful mosques of all time, and was led on a completely free tour of a coptic christian church by a woman who was just hanging out there waiting for someone to share her knowledge with. I guess maybe that's how it goes in any country in the world... some good stuff... some bad stuff... some good people ... some bad people... It's the same everywhere. Kinda comforting. For me anyway.
hazy, dirty town.
this isn't even the crowded part of the market. this is just where they ease you in to being in a crowded space and then after walking for 5 minutes you're completley penned in. this guy tried to pickpocket me but little did he know I don't keep anything in my pockets but dirty tissues. BURNED.
doors of coptic christian church
the most beautiful mosque. Lisa will post the name later, I'm not so good at those kinds of things. (EDIT: Al-Azhar... way to go Mama Rodriguez)
you have to take your shoes off to go into a mosque. kind of grody at first, but it's not like you eat with your feet. and cold marble feels gooood to a naked foot.
inside the mosque. each of those little rectangles is where they (the men, the woman part was tiny and not this luxurious) kneel, there are 12,000 "spaces" in this mosque. I wish I could remember the name, but it's one of the most important of all time and it is the highest center for the learning of islam in the world. my dad says it's "very highly regarded" but neither of us can remember the name (we're infidels), and we're both too lazy to look it up in the book. I swear, Lisa will eventually fill in the blanks.
on the top of the mosque. so many minarets!
look at those two policemen holding hands! it's not weird here in Cairo for guys to do that. however, a lady's naked head? SCANDAL.
Cairo is a smelly (burning oil from the old cars), dirty (really really dusty... it's a desert! but also excrement and cigarette smoke), crowded (I think like 11 million people live in Cairo proper, which is really nuts, I think more people live here then in all the rest of Egypt combined, but Lisa will have to confirm) town. I have to say I was COMPLETELY overwhelmed just driving from the airport to the hotel. While Lisa went for a walk, I bunkered down in the hotel, took a shower and watched American TV to comfort myself. We went to dinner and were approached by a zillion people wanting to show us how to get where (for a fee of course, running theme in Egypt). Additionally I wore a skirt (to the knees!) and felt totally uncomfortable... it was really too much for me. Sensory overload.
But after spending today out and about, while I think my first impressions are totally valid, I also think it's been an important lesson in not judging a country solely by the first few hours you're there. As it turns out, Cairo is also a beautiful, ancient, lively city full of people who will go out of their way to help you if you look lost and really want you to enjoy your time here (sure it may be because then they'll have people to pay their taxi fees, and buy their scarves... but I don't think that makes it any less pleasant).
So, while my eyes are still stinging from being outside today, and I'm totally put off and intimidated by the aggressive nature that pervades the big markets and major tourist spots... I also saw one of the most beautiful mosques of all time, and was led on a completely free tour of a coptic christian church by a woman who was just hanging out there waiting for someone to share her knowledge with. I guess maybe that's how it goes in any country in the world... some good stuff... some bad stuff... some good people ... some bad people... It's the same everywhere. Kinda comforting. For me anyway.
hazy, dirty town.
this isn't even the crowded part of the market. this is just where they ease you in to being in a crowded space and then after walking for 5 minutes you're completley penned in. this guy tried to pickpocket me but little did he know I don't keep anything in my pockets but dirty tissues. BURNED.
doors of coptic christian church
the most beautiful mosque. Lisa will post the name later, I'm not so good at those kinds of things. (EDIT: Al-Azhar... way to go Mama Rodriguez)
you have to take your shoes off to go into a mosque. kind of grody at first, but it's not like you eat with your feet. and cold marble feels gooood to a naked foot.
inside the mosque. each of those little rectangles is where they (the men, the woman part was tiny and not this luxurious) kneel, there are 12,000 "spaces" in this mosque. I wish I could remember the name, but it's one of the most important of all time and it is the highest center for the learning of islam in the world. my dad says it's "very highly regarded" but neither of us can remember the name (we're infidels), and we're both too lazy to look it up in the book. I swear, Lisa will eventually fill in the blanks.
on the top of the mosque. so many minarets!
look at those two policemen holding hands! it's not weird here in Cairo for guys to do that. however, a lady's naked head? SCANDAL.
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