Curated Cities Wellington and Auckland have curated their cities with history and cultures of indigeneity, settler coloniality, and post coloniality. These cities pedestrian urban design encourages walking and learning about the places and histories. The walking tours are discoverable online as pdfs or interactive maps that locate sites and the significance of their histories. This is how I found out about places to go before I arrived to Wellington and Auckland. Pathways are drawn on the maps to encourage walking, taking bus or cable cars, or renting scooters or bikes, to these locations. There may be a museum, historic preservation center, monument, or plaque at each place, documenting a story. These mapped sites tell a history of the people. Like the markers of where Maori villages were, and archaeological digs, like Te Aro Pā in the Te Aro neighborhood in inner city Wellington. The early part of settler colonial cities, and the kind of economy and infrastructure they brought. Or ethnic enclaves and the experiences of migrants. These land contexts start to explain the people on the streets. The businesses, their lives. They bring appreciation to the culture and people who walked on the land. It brings opportunity to reflect on moments of violence, pain, loss, and erasure. The stories bring wonder and empathy; the relationships needed to care and help is cultivated by knowing the people, their experiences at these places, and why they are the way they are. This type of mapping of sites and walking allows for soaking in a history of a place and being present, so that we have meaningful relationship to that place. Curating cities brings value to cultural and informational institutions like museums, libraries, and archives. Without research to know what happened to a place, pictures and stories as evidence, we would not know about a place’s significance and reasons to care for it. I think libraries are great places to visit. It is a public space of information, books, and media. There are services, maker spaces, computers, quiet places to work, to read, write, to use our minds, to learn. Curated cities with the help of information and cultural institutions can promote literacy among the people. Tourists may appeciate the curated city to help them learn the significance of place. But locals can benefit for education and research, to learn and apply their histories in experiential, public ways, to share and promote their appreciation for the cities and neighborhoods in which they live, so they may become educators and guides to newcomers on how to respect these places. Also, locals can reclaim and renarrate the meaning of places that had been built over by European settler colonialism, and to re-insert Indigenous histories, and mark non-Euro/non-Maori immigrant histories too. These mapped histories can encourage local artists and cultural heritage practitioners to tap into these cultural sites, and their audiences, to get their work out there, to bring a living meaning to what has happened at those places. Wellington’s Cuba Street and Auckland, around Karangahape Road, had a lot of local theaters for Maori and Pasifika artists. Folks in NZ like their local theater, art exhibits, and performances. Imagine various public performances and festivals that require communities and cultures to cultivate their practices beforehand in anticipation of the public sharing. It is those months, days, and hours of practice, not just the public performance, that is the cultivation of community culture and historical memory. Wellington Matairangi (Mt Victoria) is even curated with map and directions. There was the Hobbits Hideaway where the shot was taken of Frodo, Sam, and the two twins hid under the roots of a tree while the horse riding black wraith galloped above them. New Zealand uses their experience hosting these films as a tourism opportunity. There are other Hobbits and Lord of the Rings fandom sites throughout the islands. Tour guides lead them to these places. Matairangi’s hiking pathways are clearly marked and not too rocky. But it can be steep at some places. Good for exercise. At the top of Matairangi are exhibits about the Maori meaning of this mountain top, Tangi te keo, or cry of the bird. Whātaitai was a water guardian whose spirit turned to a bird and flew to the summit of Mataingi to screetch out in sadness. A geologist placard explained how Wellington was formed through volcanic activity and tectonic plate shifts. The view from Tangi te keo, Matairangi, is quite breathtaking. Then, I descended from Matairangi toward Oriental Bay. I wonder why they have settled on that name Oriental. Regardless, it was really beautiful to see the blue ocean and blue sky while descending from the top of the mountain. After exiting the mountain park, I turned into the side of a church and walked down a quaint walk way tucked behind cute hillside cottages that overlooked the bay. It was a beautiful, crisp sunny day, and it was refreshing to feel the ocean spray in the air as I walked zig zagged down the path toward the beach. Once I got there, I sat on a bench soaking in the sunlight, positive ions of sea spray, and I was grateful at that moment to be there. Auckland When I got to Auckland, it was at night. Karangahape Road was known to be a Maori trail. This area seemed much more rough. Outside the Haka Lodge where I stayed were some street folks that may be dealers or hustlers. From my window I could hear them yelling and swearing at each other. There seemed to be more addicts at night and folks sleeping on the street. Most businesses were closed with some bars open. It added to what I felt was an insecure sparseness of people and only chronics lurking and drunks partying outside. When I researched Auckland city walks, I saw there was a route from Karangahape road down mid town and to the wharf, passing by lots of cultural heritage sites. Im the day time, I found the St Kevin’s Arcade that has steps to Myer Park, a nice green area with walk way down the hill to town. It is downward slope from Karangahape Road at the top of the hill and to the wharf. As a walked to the end of Myer’s Park there was an amazing audio and scuplture exhibit of this concrete space under the road bridge. It had sounds of water trickling like anlittle stream, and a Maori flute. This area was Wai Horotiu, a cement terrace sculpture representing a river way that once flowed through Myer’s Park, Aotea Square and Albert’s park, along Queen Street. Horotiu was another taniwha, or water guardian, of this river that once flowed there. I think the soundscape and sculptured exhibit captured an eerie, feeling of being in cave where water flowed. It did spark in me to interpret the meaning the cultural artist historians were trying to communicate. These past waterways are said to flow underground the remaining greenways and pedestrian walk ways parallel to Queen Street. Urbanization can feel like harsh, sad, urban realities of the settler colonial present; but curated stories reminding of the ecosystems that shaped the urban design can keep alive the awareness to elemental environmental spirits that exist but in a different form. Queen Street is a straight, pedestrian and commercial road from the top of the hill at Karangahape down to the wharf. Stores in both sides. People can walk, bike, scoot, take bus up and down this road. The ability to put the feet on the ground brings us to engage with the land, to feel our hearts beat with the rhythm of the city. There is something raw about experiencing the city through walking, sweating, and breathing with it. On the way to the Queen’s Wharf, passed by Britomart Train Station, took some shots of the building face. Then walked down to the wharf. Nothing much to see but lots of people, Norewegian Cruise Ship and a terminal for boat transports. The waterfront is developed as restaurants and tourist areas. There is a Maritime Museum but I didnt go pass the lobby because of entrance fees. I visted the Tepid Baths, which is an indoor public pool and jacuzzi. Then I went through the Britomart shopping mall, bought an ice cream cone, and did some people watching on terraced steps across from the Britomart train station.. Then, I walked back up Queen Street, to visit Albert Park, and the Auckland Art Gallery. The gallery had free exhibits reflecting portraits of Europeans and Maori leaders. There were portraits of love, LGBTQ+ abstract art. My favorite exhibit was of gothic artists which reflected some dark themes of evil, good, haunting, ghosts, monsters. The inherent evil that exists in Christian beliefs that I believe has justified an othering and suppression of “others.” This was quite an honest conversation to have, through art works, about European contribution to Maori places, and exposing the reasons behind settler colonial impacts on Indigenous peoples. I left the gallery and went to the Albert Park. It was full of old trees and fountains with flower gardens. The landscape design had that British garden feel. A wonderful place for a romantic picnic or to just nap and dream under the shade of trees. The contribution of western culture is the ordered, manicured gardens. Im sure Albert Park is expensive to upkeep, to keep the grass area cut, and the flower bed perfectly flourishing. I then walked back up Queen Street, following the undulating hills, working my heart, back to Karangahape Road. Once I got up there, I was tired and thirsty. I visited Uncle Manʻs Malayasian restaurant because I had already eyed it on google maps when I was researching places to eat near the Haka Lodge. I ordered a lemon ice tea. Very refreshing, just what I needed. I finally returned to Haka Lodge. I had some hours to kill before needing to go to the airport. I think I was 1 of 5 people of color in the building. Lots of white back packers in the common area. But I did notice a Latino, a Polynesian, 2 East Asians. I liked the simplistic design of the Haka Lodge single room with ensuite. Once the wifi worked, the TV Netflix was great to have. But the amenities were more sparse than the other hotel I stayed at in Wellington—Trinity Hotel—which was cheaper per night than the Haka Lodge. Haka Lodge is considered an upscale back packerʻs hostel. It lives up to its name, but is still less frills than budget hotels. Auckland accommodation prices were more pricey than Wellington. Anyway, in those last few hours in Auckland’s Haka Lodge, I did enjoy the common TV room and watched Rebel Moon on Netflix. Great sci fi movie. What a great way to pass the time before I headed to the airport to end my great trip to New Zealand. Hawaiʻi Filipina Learning from NZ Public Histories
Making the city a cultural place takes turning the research into curation, into captioned messages to mark and interpret the place. Walkways, pedestrian oriented urban design so people can walk, bike, or skate across town as an alternative to driving. There are street folks, tourists, students, locals, workers. It seemed tame during my short cisit, but I am sure its more intense. When I looked at Honolulu news, there were reports of attacks, assaults, shooting during the holidays. The car based society makes life more intense. Would making our cities more walkable increase our humanity? Like on King Street, from University to downtown, what are the sites that make this place special to us who reside here? What if we created curated walk ways, captioned land marks, so people are attracted to walk, learn, and reflect on this place they inhabit. A corresponding web presence could make this information discoverable and bring awareness to inspire walking and biking along those routes as part of an individualʻs wonder, or family activity. These outcomes could be aligned with city government cultural heritage and urban design projects. This could be all part of assimilation into the settler structure. But I learned from New Zealand its important to engage in city development plans, such as through city councils, to add to the narrative that includes Maori history and culture, to be honest about European colonial history, to recognize Asian, African and Pasifika migrant experiences. These are not siloed, but these histories are in relation, and require interdependence and collective attention to be supported and validated. I liked how the Te Papa museum tried to reflect the histories of the people who lived on the ground. More work to do, but atleast there was an attempt towards that capturing of the social history. I thought Honolulu Harbor near the Aloha Tower and Maritime Musuem could also develop its pedestrian water front to educate about the Kanaka Maoli, White, and Pacific and Asian immigrant history. It could expand on the DeTour work. The stories could spread and connect from Chinatown, Downtown, Kakaako, Ala Moana, to Waikiki. The Auckland and Wellington artists and historians worked with their City Councils to influence the general plans. We should do that for us. I also have ideas for other Maui walkable towns like Kahului.
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I arrived in Wellington NZ looking for a new frame of mind. The libraries and archive were closed. But I instead read the land, carrying with me the baggage of settler experience as a Filipina diaspora born in Hawaiian land. But now, I was thinking through the Maori, European settler, Asian, African and Middle Eastern immigrant peoples histories in Wellington. The land where Hotel Trinity was in the neighborhood called Te Aro, named after Te Aro pā (fortified village) of Maori from Taranaki (Te Āti Awa). Inter-tribal Maori wars pushed the Te Āti Awa from Taranaki to what is now Wellington. I learned about the Musket Wars, or European traders would trade guns with certain Maori tribes, and these tribes used them against others as part of their strategic gain. The Te Āti Awa was pushed out of Taranaki and arrived in Te Aro Pā as a result of these inter tribal wars. When European settlers arrived in Te Aro Pā, in what is now Wellington, they wanted the Te Āti Awa land and they were pushed out again. The whole Te Aro neighborhood is inner city Wellington, also known as the Central Business District (CBD). Toward the northwest end is Willis Street, which hosts the banks. The waterfront is where all the water vehicles dock, since Maori waka, to European ships, to present day Matson container ships. Cuba Street is one of the early settler roads named after the ship of a European settler disembarked from. This is a walkable strip of retail and restaurant and bars and hotels, like a mall. It was known for brothels and prostitution, the LGBTQ culture, and theaters. Street folks, locals, and tourists converge here. Cuba Street cut across the gardens of the Te Aro. Many of the street folk were Maori, or Polynesian or part. Te Aro Park is a triangular plot of land at the corner if Manners and Dixon Streets. There is a triangular memorial marking where the Te Āti Awa lived in the area. The park fountain is designed with triangles and waters to express the idea of water flowing through generations of elder, woman, and daughter. Today, Te Aro Park is surrounded by commercial businesses, including Adult entertainment bars and clubs. As Dixon and Manners Streets converges, they become Courtnay Place. This commercial strip has the houseless sleeping on the streets, many Maori or part Maori. Many of those enjoying themselves were White folks, Australian, Europeans. There were lots of Asians, East Asians and South Asians, as tourists or as local workers. But on Jan 1-2, many of the businesses were closed in celebration of the holiday. But among the businesses that were open were Asian restaurants, Chinese, Malaysian, Indian. I ate at a Malaysian and Indian restaurant where immigrant Asians worked. Taxi and Uber drivers were South Asian and Middle Eastern. Maori snd Pacific Islanders at hotels and airports. I did also see White workers at the convenient stores, museums, and at restaurants and bars too. There was a white and Asian privilege. Whites at top (politically or predominantly at leisure). Asian businesses serving predominantly working, Maori and Polynesians predominantly street folk. There were also exceptions, in which I saw Maori and Polynesians enjoying themselves, and white homeless, and Asians either working more than others or touring. There was a settler colonization in which the current urban order benefitted certain non-Maori racial groups more disproportionately than others, while others were more disproportinately present in a station in life. As a Filipina traveler, I had questions about the experiences of Asians in Wellington? I learned about Fredrick and Haining streets, that was an early Chinese enclave known for opium and gambling dens. But also the killing of a Chinese man named Joe Kum Yung by a racist White man Lionel Terry. There is a history of anti-Asian hate in New Zealand. Lionel Terry was a white immigrant who wanted to rid new Zealand of non- white immigrants. Chinese were among the first non- white immigrants recruited to work in the Otago gold mines. But when Chinese immigrated, they needed to pay a poll tax, and were also seen as inferior by the white settler society. The He Tohu exhibition included a Chinese constitutional lawyer who reflected that being a woman was ok, but it was her race as a Chinese that she has experienced problems with in New Zealand. These histories contextualize the shootings at a Muslim Mosque in Christchurch a few years ago. I took pictures of a little run down church and Chinese Association buildings as examples of remnants of architecture reflecting the early Chinese enclave that was here. This enclave was father away from the water front, more inland. Today it is a bunch of residential condos and apartment. Very quiet, stark, gentrified, concrete areas near wide vehicle thoroughfares that are not as pedestrian friendly like in the CBD. I wondered the station of Filipinos. My taxi driver says Filipinos are in the Lower Hutt area of Wellington (I didnt get to go there), and in the Catholic and Christian churches. I saw Filipinas hand in hand with tall, large white men. I read somewhere about Filipinas as mail order brides or pen pals to white kiwis, and incidents of domestic violence against Filipina and Asian immigrant women. I saw Filipinos as tourists or visitors; I could discriminate them from other southeast asians by listening to them speaking in Tagalog and Ilocano. I read that New Zealand started an immigration policy in the 1980s to open up to more ethnic groups. There are immigrants from Africa, Southeast Asia, and East Asia. There are Middle Eastern people, and South Asians. The Te Papa musuem exhibit portrayed stories of war and violence in Afghanistan and Cambodia that caused people to leave. A Thai woman shared her oral history that social and gender inequality in their homeland caused them to look for other opportunities abroad. But before settlers of color, White NZ held racist policies. White settlers first came under the policies of Britain. They wanted to do business—whaling, commercial trading, missionization—setting up capitalism and its greed. The Maori faced that violence. Some Maori tribes traded with European settlers, getting muskets from them in exchange for lands to inhabit and local resources. The tribes were not all unified, so those that had guns engaged in tribal warfare with other tribes, creating flux in territorial boundaries, and the domination of certain tribes over others. Whalers came to hunt whales, but they were also drunks and wanted prostitutes. This story is reminiscent of Hawaiʻiʻs experience in Lahaina and Honolulu. The Treaty of Waitangi was conceived by the British Crown to gain Aotearoa under the protection of British Sovereignty. To get it implemented, the British settlers in government needed to get the Maori chiefs to sign on. Some Maori signed because they were in business with the whites. But other Maori tribes were uncomfortable and some refused and engaged in wars against the British and their Maori allies. The Te Papa Museum had a provocative exhibit about the Treaty of Waitangi. The treaty was written in Maori and English, in order to get Maori chiefs and Pakeha governments to understand what they were signing. Eventually, the outcomes of the treaty revealed itself unjust to the Maori, and debates emerged that there were different interpretations. After the Treaty was implemented, the white settlers interpeted it as their right of government to take control of Maori land. This is what led to the displacement and loss of sovereignty of the Maori. These art from Maori artist Robyn Kakukiwa are called “Invasion” and “The Migration.” They portray the impact of western colonization and displacement from their lands on Maori women. But Maori people did fight against the settler colonialism leading to protests against the settlements, such as Bastion Point, and the Waitangi Tribunal to question the implementation of the white interpretation of the Treaty. To address the unrest between Maori and Pakeha was to revisit the Treaty of Waitangi and come up with common principles that both sides could agree upon. The shared principles of the Treaty of Waitangi focuses on civility between the whites and the Maori, and the protection of the land and rights of the people. The He Tohu exhibit from the National Library interviewed Maori, Pakeha and some immigrants about the meaning of the Treaty of Waitangi. Why some Maori signed, what white Pakeha people think, and also the link to the womenʻs suffragette movement. Some Pakeha talked about remembering the Treaty of Waitangi because it reminds them of their responsibility to Maori, or about being inclusive to everyone. One Pakeha ask how Asian immigrants will also relate to the treaty of Waitangi. Maori scholar, Linda Tuhiwai Smith, said that white people should let go. Another Maori talk about coming to unity. Other Maori think about their sovereignty and their difference from non Maori, and the way they were looked down upon by Pakeha, but how Maori also understood western ways in addition to their own. The Te Papa Museum had a large exhibit on Pasifika migrants. European missionaries that landed on the islands of Polynesia and Melanesia recruited native islanders as part of their evangelical and missionary processes in New Zealand and other Pacific Islands. There were historis of Native Kingdom from Rarotonga interacting with Aotearoa. Early Pasifika migrants share oral histories of living in dilapidated living conditions. There are exhibits of intermarriage between Maori and Pakeha, Maori that served in New Zealand wars. There is a large popular culture exhibt of Pasifika migrants building their own arts, music, dance, and creative scenes. The Multicultural Party of New Zealand President stated interesting ideas about Asian’s own relation to the Treaty of Waitangi. Non-white settlers are still considered Pakeha. But non white settlers support Maori work to resist colonization because many Asian and African migrants have experienced colonization from Europeans too, which led to their displacement and arrival to New Zealand as racialized workers who also experience white racism. There is a concern that while non Maori/non White settlers are considered among the Pakeha in the treaty, Asians and African immigrants would like to be a distinct from white settlers because of the racism and colonialism that they have experienced, and continue to experience in NZ, by European colonialism and imperalism. The He Tohu exhibit mentioned an African migrant who expressed feeling comfortable with Maori as they invited him to their marae and made him feel comfortable being Indigenous, embracing indigeneity, instead of being shamed or oppressed by it, like under white rule. I have a question about Asian settler colonialism. Do Asians feel any moral or ethical concerns seeking assimilation into the white capitalist infrastructure? I do notice a predominance of Asians and Whites competing in the capitalist society. In my observation of Asian owned businesses working harder and having smaller businesses. I noticed the desire to please the customer. There is mating and intermixing between Asians and Whites. But I havent seen Asian interaction with Maori or Polynesian. Is this why Maori and Pacific Islanders want separation from Asians? Is it because Asians allegiance are to whites so they can succeed within the settler colony? What would it mean to have Asians study and build relationship with Maori around decolonization and the Treaty of Waitangi. The Maori would need their sovereignty supported and returned, and this means Asians would have to let go of the benefits they have gained under white settler colonialism. Also Asians would need to decolonize from their own internalized white settler colonilism, in the social inequality and environmental problems caused by their own people prioritizing their own individual success, and not caring for land and going along with the outmigration, instead of staying on their own lands. But those judgements are based on an idealism. The realities of war, nationalism, and imperialism have made certain Third World countries unbearable to live in. Its not easy to say settlers of color go back home because their own countries have experienced colonization, leading to governments impoverishing and torturing their own people. Refugees from war zones, like Palestine, Afghanistan— some of these countries are like that as a result of western colonialism meddling in the politics and instability over their government in order to take over their resources, their lands, and their bodies, to extract for global capitalism. Its quite big to try and take responsibility for the complicity we have in causing the hardship of others. Its heavy, inconvenient, and uncomfortable, but also deepens thinking on how to create change at the root cause of the problem. I think its about learning our own ethnic histories, educating our own people and national origin about how to deal with the aftermath of colonialism (settler colonialism or its internalization) so we can be conscious of why we engage in globalisation and ongoing settler colonialism of other native lands, because we have been engulfed by this process ourselves! To become self conscious, so we may be conscious of what we are doing and thinking, and can choose to act in a different way. We can instill new values and priorities in our people to do what is right and beneficial for more people we are now living with, not just ourselves, not just to kiss up to people with power. The Te Papa exhibit had a section on how human development have impacted animals who lived on these islands. There has been an extinction of species of birds like the Moa and owl. Kiwis are endangered but coming back. This exhibit did well to make me feel guilt or sadness about the state if human development. Maori resistance to the damage in their lands is also for the death of the animals too. It was good to have that message in the exhibit so we can be informed on doing better as people living in these places. The story isnt this happy-go-lucky story about New Zealand, but one with problems that we need to deal with. Its hard to have conversations with people who were displaced from where they lived, then have to enter a new country, start from the bottom to create a livelihood. That means having to understand and work with the existing economy, political systems that sure, has been inherited from settler colonialism. There are the dominant populations of people that have been there benefitting from the racism of settler colonialism—they have a fear of change, or hate the inconvenience of adapting to new situations. People in power who benefit from an unjust order or system can lead to scapegoating and killings. They can lobby to create lax, loopholed legal systems so they are not affected negatively by the changes being demanded as others seek better ways. Those who hold power need to stop holding on so strongly. Just thinking about the state of the world. Palestine, Afghanistan, Sudan, Vietnam, Cambodia, Philippines, countries who experienced the damage of modern warfare as a result of European imperialism affecting nationalist thinking and ethnic and ideological conflict. Then thinking about the Maori who were duped into the Musket Wars. And even the Europeans who were coming from their own war mongered backgrounds. There is this commin theme of war making that has churned across the generations and geographies, creating displacement and chaos and the struggle to survive and adapt, and at the expense of others. What would it look like to be softer? Facing fears behind the control. The call to do this work will get louder as patterns of the past repeat, and as change floods doorsteps.
What is exciting about Cebu was how the young people are actively involved in narrating and redefining their histories. There is a movement in the Philippines to reclaim and preserve their cultural heritage sites, ancestral places, and Cebu has been successful in engaging the young people to be front and center in educating as docents providing interpretation and conveying pre-colonial, colonial, and postcolonial information. In Sugbo Museum, there was an impressive docent who was a student. He was able to quickly explain highlights from each display in a room jam packed with exhibited material artifacts and captioned displays. The stories on each floor we moved through were chronological, moving from pre-colonial, Spanish, American, Japanese occupations. Then to other galleries on Cebu’s economic, printing press and media histories. Lastly we saw a new exhibition room telling stories about the Badlit Cebuano and other writing scripts throughout the archipelago, batok or tattooing culture of the Visayans (called Pintados by the Spaniards), the babaylan, the different chiefs that collaborated and resisted the Spanish, the plants of use in pre-colonial era like the millet that was eaten more than rice. We also went to the wishing well. We looked into old cells that had the morgue on top, but it was closed; I think the place could be haunted. But I think they used feng shui by hanging little bells on the windows to disperse negative energy when the wind blew. There was a National Archives, but it was closed. Then I walked down to Casa Gorordo, a wealthy parian ancestral home. They had young people as registrars or as docents. I chose to use the virtual docent. That felt like a millenial intervention. I learned Casa Gorordo was the house of wealthy well-to-dos of Filipino Spanish mestizo descent. Different parts of the house designated specific public/private functions, such as to regulate guest entry or even suitor interactions. the virtual docent told stories about what rooms were used for: sleeping, bathing/CR, eating, sitting, entertaining, cooking. After it rained, I walked to another exhibit about Cebuano fisher folk culture organized by the same foundation that managed the Gorordo Museum. A young girl was my docent. She was apologetic a few times for missing some English words, but I assured her she was doing great! There was discussion of ethnoastronomy, or the folk study of the stars and winds that assisted with fisher folk navigation. For example, they had names for I think the Southern Cross constellation as “Rosaryohan,” cause it looked like a cross in a rosary. Also myths and legends about the sea beings were always fun to learn. Then into the products and tools of fisherfolk, portraits of the fisherfolk, and their drawn maps of popular fishing places. Then I walked around the corner to the Yap San Diego Ancestral house. That was more less engaged young docents just accepting registration fees and hanging out with their buddies below. I got to wander the house looking at the fantastical syncretism of the anito culture of idols, paintings, and other tsotchke blending with Spanish Catholicism and Chinese. This house was a clearer example of a Chinese house in the Parian District. More antique feeling than the Gorordo, it had a more mystical vibe with a lot of figurines, dolls, statuettes, reminding me of Amihan’s collection of anitos. Its the way the idol worship of anitos continue under Spanish influence except its now Spanish influenced the anito figures to be of Jesus, Black Santo Nino, Mother Mary, but sometimes folk beliefs would make space of a little nuno sa punso in the outdoor garden gazebo. Jungle plants everywhere in the garden like orchids, ferns, birds nests, all green and magical to entice fairies and dwendes hiding behind old wooden frames and stones. I went to Magellan’s Cross. Spanish colonial contact is emphasized here because it is a Catholic place. Spain has added its infrastructure to the Sugbo landscape and culture. But the cross represents a forceful imposition to me. However, I remember the stories of Chief Humabon and his wife Amihan accepting Christianity and the Santo Niño. The Cebuano have syncretized with Catholicism. But the colonial power structure has also emphasized class and inter-ethnic social struggles that can be witnessed in the streets today.
After a few minutes of watching, I asked the guy who was dressed like a Visayan warrior if this tattoo event was private. He said no, it was a partnership with the Fort Pedro Museum and the tattoo artist was demonstrating the process of how Visayan warriors got their tattoos. I mentioned that I saw Lane’s Filipino Tattoos book and that he did the tattoos in my legs. The Visayan warrior called to the tattoo artist, Piper, and that he was an apprentice of Lane. I was able to introduce myself and show him my tattoos, the river on my right leg and the crab design on my left. We had a cool conversation and took a picture. There were so many inspiring moments learning from Sugbo young people doing some great dialogical, demonstration and historical interpretive work revitalizing and re-engaging their cultural histories at the local museums!
At Sugbo (old name of Cebu) Museum, I learned that Amihan, one of Rajah Humabon’s wife, was a collector of anitos, or wooden idols that represented dieties, After this Sugbo chiefly class converted to Christianity, Amihan was happy to accept Santo Niño as a new anito into her collection. I dont think she accepted the Santo Niño because she loved Catholicism and wanted to betray her existing beliefs. I think she saw the Santo Niño as just one of the many spirits, dwende, or anito of their animist pantheon to embrace. The native Cebuanos were already a cosmopolitan people. Their embrace of different cultures and peoples was already common practice as they were an active trading port in the southeast asian maritime network. But little did they know their welcome of the Spaniards would lead to the evangelism of their lands and other parts of the Philippines to Spanish Catholic control. But it is possible to say that Sugbo’s Rajah Humabon (Christianized as Carlos) and his wife Amihan (Christianed as Juana), may not have felt the harshness of colonialism as they were already the chiefly class and were courted by the Spanish conquistadors to be friends/business partners. But of course, there were other chieftans that did not trust the Spaniards, like Chief Lapu Lapu of Mactan. We all know he and his warriors killed Magelan and a group of his men on his island because they could smell his shadiness. While Magellan was killed at the hands of Mactan warriors, his co-conquistador Elcano was able to go back to Spain with surviving Spaniards. On their way out, other island chiefs (in addition to Rajah Humabon, there was Rajahs Calanao, Colambu and Siaui) would do blood compacts with the Spanish as a form of treaty of alliance or perhaps future business partnership. When the Spaniards arrived in Europe, they told their buddies about what was going on in the Sugbo and Mactan islands. They reported gold and plant resources to exploit. The Spaniards came back in droves. While we like to remember Lapu Lapu, there were some native chiefs that allied with the Spanish to do business. We cannot blame them, however, as they were already a trading and warrior society that was open to new relationships but also vigilant with their warrior martial arts skills. However, they may not have anticipated the insatiable greed and lust of Spanish colonizing ideology that would look down on native Filipino ingenuity, to intervene and monopolize their native economies and societies. But this could have planted the seeds of the native elite class that would eventually intermarry with Spanish, other European, and Chinese merchants to consolidate the shifting tides from the Philippine southeast asian maritime economy toward the Spanish empire’s Manila-Acapulco Galleon Trade. Down the road from the Sugbo Museum were ancestral homes preserved as museums. The top 3 pictures below are of the Yap San Diego ancestral house museum, which was a Spanish, Chinese, Filipino mestizo home. The 3 pictures underneath are from the Casa Gorordo, another Filipino, Spanish mestizo well-to-do family. Both houses are remaining ancestral homes in what was called the Parian district where Chinese settlers and merchants lived. This transformation of the relations and priorities of the native elite to the Spanish colonial was at the expense of the laboring and perhaps skilled crafts peoples class, who were in pre-colonial times the oripen or slave or timawa classes that did the bidding of the datu chieftan class. There was already a hierarchical caste or power relations in pre-colonial Sugbo and other areas. Under Spanish rule, the exploitation and slavery intensified leading to native revolts and class consciousness against native elites who collaborated with foreign white skins. So while we like to blame white people for our colonial problems, the Philippines reminds us of native collaborators that gained riches from European contact. I think this is the root of Filipino society’s oppressed/oppressor contradictions such as class inequities within and among ethnic groups. The native elite’s persistent negotiation with colonial power structures have maintained repressive ideologies, such as anti-black, anti-indigenous, anti-women, and anti-LGBTQ+, to keep certain Filipino people marginalized under the control or discrimination of other Filipinos who benefitted from the exclusivity of Eurocentric colonial power.
I went to the Balanghay Shrine. It was in the Amabago/Libertad neighborhood of Butuan City, a simple suburb where local people lived. Given that the balanghay were unearthed in this area, I wonder what their thoughts are about this history. There were many young people. This place so rich with the history of their ancestors. A smaller, open-aired museum, the balanghay was encased in a glass display. Its possible to see the boats construction using a tongue and groove method to connect wooden planks. Along the walls of the room were photos of the process of the archaeological dig that unearthed it. There was another display of coffins with skulls of different ages that had signs of facial fronts pushed in or were damaged. This could have been the deformity of the person or how they died. But given these ancestor remains were preserved in coffins, they could have been important persons. The coffins were found 16 meters away from the unearthed balanghay. Was there a connection between burying bodies at sea and the movement in and out of the city through the balanghay? I remember reading in the Butuan museum that while the amihan (north wind) was depended on to move boats south, the habagat (south winds) could move boats back north or to their death. The Butuanons had to be in tune with nature, the winds, in order to travel to and fro their maritime world. I also met a Surigaonon del Sur researcher studying in Bohol doing cultural mapping. He told me there were connections between coffins and burials in the southwest of Bohol from what he found in the Balanghay Shrine. He encouraged me to visit to Bohol because of the various cultural and natural resources they have. We headed back to Robinsons Mall on a tricycle so I could go back to my hotel and he could catch a taxi. At the Robinson’s Place mall, I found an exhibit on the book “An Island They Called Mazaua.” It was trying to debunk the idea of Limasawa, Leyte as the site of the first mass under Magellan, and argue that it was in Butuan, Mindanao where this took place. The author analyzed Spanish and Italian archival documents, how the European explorers documented the location and distance of the place where they held the first mass in what is now the Philippines. He drew from cartographical coordinates to prove that it was actually Butuan that fit the described locations. His other argument was that Butuan was already a major port city that would attract the European explorers, but Limasawa was not developed enough by then. The idea to push Butuan as the site of the first mass is still facing an uphill battle. Historians and other religious administrators continued to draw from faulty sources to maintain that Limasawa was the site of the first mass. The author of this book is to push back and correct historical inaccuracies, and to galvanize a movement to name Butuan as the site of the first mass.
The author is a Catholic church scholar, so that is why he is passionate about the location of the first mass. But I am not so interested in promoting this history of the first mass because of the colonial baggage that came with the Spanish religious conversion. I am interested in this pre-colonial history of this place that demonstrates the active competence and brilliance of Butuan ancestral people in generating their own economy and relations with other polities. But how can the Philippines generate a strong domestic and international economy utilizing its deep layers of historical and cultural resources? How can this economy help its working people and not just the wealthy classes ? Tourism is being invested in as a big economic force. The cultural and historical resources become assets in the network of tourism sites. But from my experience in Hawaii, tourism can relegate local workers to be servants to foreigners voyuerism. It is important for the museums to be connected to the education system too, so that local people, the children, become experts in the meaning and significance of their own cultural assets so that they can use that knowledge to advance and advocate for their humanity, culture, histories, and places from the ground up. Im a full blooded ilocano (FBI). I was born in the diaspora of Hawaii. Growing up, my travels to Philippines was mostly with family, confined to Luzon island, Manila, driving to the Ilocos region, and to Cordillera region (Baguio). But as an adult, I visited more parts of the Philippines independently with my own group agendas or for my individual research. I mostly travelled to new places in Luzon, but this time, I wanted to go to different islands—Mindanao and Cebu. Ilocanos were among the many Christianized Philippine islanders from the north who were given opportunity by the state to settle in different parts of Mindanao, participating in the displacement of Lumad and Bangsamoro. My mom said that my grant aunt Apo Carling was one Ilocana who went to teach in Davao. I recognize the settler legacy of my presence and tourism in Butuan. But I also see this visit as an opportunity to witness the work, history, and culture of Butuan before and beyond settler colonial developments, and to learn about the richness of their history rather than its erasure and replacement. Mindanao was important for me to visit because of Butuan. In my studies of pre-colonial Philippine history, I learned about its active role in gold mining and trade in southeast asia. The mandala kingdoms of Srivijaya (based in Sumatra) and Majapahit (based in Java) had traded with Butuan. As someone who dances Balinese and found Ilocano language cognates with Indonesian or Malay words, I was fascinated about Philippines role in a cosmopolitan southeast asia where there was trade with what is now Indonesia, peninsular southeast asia and beyond. The unearthing of balanghay boats further provided evidence of this city’s active role in maritime trade. There are museums that are preserving, documenting, and communicating the significance of Butuan. Then Butuan National Musuem discusses the history of the land because of natural shifts of the Agusan river plain and human forces. Their dioramas contextualize the location of early settlements in the Butuan Bay flood plain, and where balanghay boat remains were discovered. The archaeological findings of beads, shell, and animal teeth provide a glimpse of items in the early Butuan city. I read about the Nusantara and they were a maritime people that moved along coastal regions eating mollusks and shellfish, leaving behind shell mounds. Under the shell mounds is where they would bury their dead. Later, I will talk about the coffins found meters away from the unearthed balanghay boats. I am wondering if this was a site of the Nusantara culture, which played a role in early global trade in the region due to their movement along coasts. Other archaeological finds were pottery from different parts of Asia (Champa, Vietnam, China), and Persia, revealing the items and goods that were being transacted and shipped in and out of the area. Chinese porcelain is seen as the items of the baknang (wealthy), so these potteries could have been coveted wares of certain classes. The other room was about Indigenous peoples of the region weaving practices and textile products. There were documentaries and exhibits about the process and products of abaca master weavers Yabing Masalon Dulo (Blaan textile, left), Lang Dulay (Tboli textile, center), and Salinta Monon (Tagabawa Bagobo textile, right). Another exhibit room was about photographs of Indigenous women and the different type of work they do. During my visit to the Butuan National Museum, there was a conference going on about Indigenous representation in cultural artifacts and museums. It was interesting to listen to their talks while looking at the exhibits. The grounds of the museum was shaded by trees and plants surrounding a fish pond. There were groups of children hanging out, doing dance routines. I thought it was nice they would hang out by their museum, and maybe one day connect their contemporary interests with the information in the museum about the history and culture of the place they are from.
After Balaw Balaw, we headed to my final stop, Sol Y Viento Hot Springs Hotel, Pansol, Calamba. Its a gated hotel. It is a very prime location. I felt very blessed to be there. I had a little loft room that looked out to Mount Makiling. I chose this place online because they had hot spring pools. Lauren recommended I experience these waters of Makiling, the guardian spirit of the mountain, watching that people keep in balance with nature, or else… It was also interesting that Perdigon Vocalan’s book had given me a brief introduction on how to shift my mindset to meet this place. Already Angono Petroglyphs and Balaw Balaw emphasized the magic of the arts reflecting the spiritual world of these peoples. And Vocalan had a painting in his book called Pagniniig ni Banahaw at Makiling where two rest in each others arms in a quiet concern, while the jungle waters reflecting them ripple in concentric circles. Vocalan’s title could be translated to “the intimacy between Banahaw and Makiling.” Banahaw figured as a warrior masculine spirit and Makiling a beautiful diwata spirit. In the visible eye, they are neighboring sacred mountains of Laguna de Bay. Perhaps they embrace in concern of what is happening around their enchanted kingdom. Followers of these sacred mountains protect and defend their kingdom. Once there, I realize the aliveness of the place. The hotel is on Mt Makiling’s slopes, at the top of the road, and you can see Laguna de Bay looking below. I think about how far reaching the enchanted kingdom that Vocalan has channeled into his paintings. The Mutya ng Laguna de Bay, or the “anting anting of Laguna de Bay,” is a mermaid. My mom told me stories of mermaids in Ilocos. And so I think Vocalan’s depiction of the magical world extends beyond the Laguna area. He speaks from an Angono, Tagalog view because that is where he is native to. But he reminds all Filipinos, and all people, of the folk level of consciousness that still remembers the invisible world that co-exists and interacts with our visible world. The hotel messaged me a few days earlier that there would be a big government family function using the pool and hot springs area, but it would still be open to guests. Lots of noisy children screaming and a emcee on the microphone narrating the team building activities like a game show host. Normally I would be annoyed. I was a uncomfortable showing my body in my one piece bathing suit in front of the crowds. But I noticed that people were avoiding the hot springs because they were mainit. The first late afternoon, I just dipped my feet in. Yes it was quite hot with a sting. Given the rowdiness of the surrounding area, I decided to come back early morning to get my full dip. There was rain, thunder and lightning that night. I did sleep well that night, even after just dipping my feet. The next morning, I got up early, still not adjusted to jet lag, but went downstairs to see the hot springs. Some kids and families were already up flocking to the pool at 6:30am! But they still felt the hot springs were hot. I tried it a few seconds and yes they were still very hot. I asked the staff but they had no way to adjust the temperature because it was naturally sourced from Makiling herself. Wow, fierce! she must be angry, I exclaimed. But I was determined to soak. I thought about my experience in Korean Spas, which are not as hot as Makiling hot springs. But the body has to adjust to temperature in order to sit and soak. I would dip my feet in to adjust my body temp to her, leaving them there for longer moments. Then I would build the courage to walk down the steps. Then I would try again and again until my body was accustomed to accept the initial sting of heat, then I walked down to my neck level, stood there submerged for 2 seconds. I came back up. I did it! That was enough to experience her waters. It was like a baptism. Having to be patient with things around me, with her. You cant just get what you want. There’s a need to take it easy, be at the pace where everyone is at, work up to her level.
Meditate with the sting of the heat, dont just jump away at the first pain pangs, but breathe with it, sit with it. Her intensity was a very important teacher. After Angono Petroglyphs, we drove down the hill to Balaw Balaw Art Gallery and Restaurant so we could eat an early lunch. Shout out to Lauren Sevilla Faustino, Diwa Malaya, for recommending this spot. Balaw Balaw Art Gallery and Restaurant is an important center of Angono’s reputation as an artistic town. Balaw Balaw is a side dish in Rizal province made of shrimp paste, coconut milk, bamboo shoots and ginger. The founder of Balaw Balaw is Perdigon Vocalan and his wife. Perdigon was an orphaned child that had drawing skills nurtured by his family. He grew his skill making signs and art. He was mentored by Carlos “Botong” Francisco, an accomplished Filipino National artist who discovered and advocated for the preservation of the Angono Petroglyphs. He and his wife founded Balaw Balaw art gallery and restaurant to show his art and to practice culinary art. Vocalan also organized the community to create large puppets of people for parades such as the local Higantes Festival, still practiced today. It seems that Vocalan and Balaw Balaw was at the heart of Angono’s artistic pulse. Opened in 1983, the place is now aged, dusty, and musty. But it still has a magical charm that reminds me of Kidlat Tahimik’s Ili-Likha Artist Wateringhole in Baguio. While Kidlat’s place is way more radically fantastical, Vocalan’s paintings and sculptures displayed throughout the restaurant harken back to pre-colonial animist and syncretic colonial pasts, images of living with the enchanted realm where humans interacted with anitos and relied on intuitive intimacy with nature, like the babaylan, who would walk the boundary between human and magical worlds. I love this kind of art that depicts the mysticism of Filipino cultural beliefs, such as the anito fairies in the jungle. But I also critically wonder about Filipino societal pasts, such as the caste society (or am I misreading the bayanihan service culture) braving the jungle with bamboo poles on their shoulders carrying the precious cargo of a sleeping princess in a hammock on their way to Antipolo. Reminded me of Singkil, how that dance depicts a caste hiearchy from the iprincess and prince, the maiden servants of the princess, and the servants at their feet quickly shifting and clapping the bamboo rods. We can say more as to how Philippine caste and slavery was different from chattel slavery. But this class hierarchy is something Im trying to understand from our traditional past and does it endure as class inequality or servitude as cultural relations between Malays and Chinese hybrids with light skin Spanish blood with dark skin Aetas and other Indigenous groups? But back to Volacan’s visualized stories, there was a section of sculptures reflecting the harshness of colonialism and postcolonialism, reflected in a set of more religious sculptures, they remind me of the magical aspect of that Pilipino syncretic catholicism, the eerieness of that honoring of the dead, the great spirit of God, wavering with the discipline of Catholic rules and bodily order. The dusty, musty, oldness of the bamboo roof restaurant, with shrines (dambana) surrounded by plants and stagnant fountains, at the base of a whimsical two story house, is just an example of that Filipino artistic magic alive in contemporary Angono, at the base of the hill where the Petroglyphs live. I loved the documented media coverage about the restaurant’s popularity, already faded. But one title stood out, “A Menu as a Centennial Document,” how Vocalan’s culinary art with recipes and menus was another way to preserve history, culture, and memory. This is the kind of archival work Im interested in. Sure the documented writings are important, but the survival of the how-to skill, to create, to make, is really the knowledge to be passed down, taught, and shared to impact the memories and lives of new generations onward.
I was able to hire a private car service called Tourist Driver Manila. Yup, that name says a lot about who I am in the Philippines class and nation-wise. The public transport of the masses (masa) of working class people is the jeepney or tricycle. But folks with money can hire a Grab Car (ie millenials or tech savvy elders who can use Apps) or Taxi (other folks who are willing to use potentially expensive rides). I am of another layer of balikbayan privilege who can splurge on private drivers. They are at expensive prices especially for a single passenger that could use the bus at a cheaper rate. But the convenience of hiring a reliable private driver is having a local person help navigate through the dense, complex juggernauts of Manila streets, freeways, and avenues; deal with parking, issues that foreigners and even other locals, cant or struggle to deal with. Also private drivers can get you to other provinces outside of Manila in shorter amount of time than riding buses, jeepneys and tricycles. My ambitious day 1 plan was to leave Pasay to go to Angono (Petroglyphs and Balaw Balaw Art Gallery and Restaurant) and then Pansol (Sol Y Viento Hot Springs Resort Hotel). Thanks to driver Anthony, he guided me out of Manila to the Angono Petroglyphs in like 1.5 hours. We took EDSA then to Ortigas, then along the Laguna de Bay to reach Angono. We arrived in Angono Petroglyphs by entering a gated subdivision with guards. Anthony mentioned the area, up the mountain, was a hang out for wealthy Filipinos. Made sense because the road was so empty, not many cars, but the roads were wide, with side walks, nature, and “peace and quiet for a morning walk.” Not like in Manila where there is no side walk, buildings so close together, and its so noisy. His comments were instructive of the classism inherent in my itinerary. But I was not offended. It also revealed that those with the money and power can take care of cultural heritage sites like Angono Petroglyphs, within a gated subdivision of the rich, but with the advocacy from art and cultural workers pushing them.
I wanted to go to Angono Petroglyphs because it is a site with one of the earliest records of pre-colonial Philippine art. Within the soft tuff cave are inscriptions reflecting turtles, animals, people, other shapes. It was discovered by Carlos “Botong” Francisco, who was a national artist of the Philippines and from Angono. National Museum cultural researchers say that these inscriptions were created by Philippine aboriginal aetas and added to by early Austronesian settlers to the area. Other researchers note that the inscribed figures were for ritual or ceremonial purposes, such as with dambanas (sacred circles, shrines, or portals for ceremonial and spiritual practices) of early that lived in the area during the pre-colonial era. This is what interested me in Angono. As a Ilocana diasporic settler archivist working in libraries, I am interested in finding sites of Philippine writing and art as records of pre-colonial knowledge. Usually, when we think of recorded knowledge, we start at the Spanish books, and their introduction of print to document the baybayin or kur-itan. But learning about Angono’s rock art revealed an older source of recorded knowledge, inscriptions in the form of petroglyphs, coming from aboriginal Aeta and then later, early Austronesian settlers. Also, the Angono Petroglyphs rock shelter a hiding spot for guerilla fighters during Japanese occupation of world war II. These guerilla soldiers also added inscriptions to the cave’s tuff wall. So these more contemporary rock artists continued the legacy of native memory making during postcolonial occupations of the Philippines. These are the reasons for me to go to Angono and experience the place and photograph the petroglyph inscriptions. The place is eerie with the sounds of jungle insects like cicadas humming in the humidity. The little caves on the tuff cone wall make you wonder what lies within the dark. The place reminded me of the “Montezume Palace,” the colonial name of the Pueblo Cave Dwellers in Arizona. That place also was eerie because of the ancestors that lived and died there. For Angono Petroglyphs, they too were a site of ancestors dwelling there and engaging in spiritual ceremonies of the time. The eerie feeling is also an emanation of the sacredness and specialness of the place. After the Angono Petroglyphs were discovered, the Philippine government took it over. But Anthony mentioned there is a new private care taker, who I think is the National Museum of the Philippines, who built the walk way along the cave wall to allow visitors to look at the rock wall without touching it. There is a large museum foam core exhibition that talks about this site’s discovery and other information that is repeated on the web. But there is so much more that could be done in that museum to contextualize the significance of the inscriptions and the cave. Perhaps talking more about the original inscribers and engaging their descendants today. Perhaps thinking more about the context of the larger area where the cave exists and the larger, contextual histories of what happened to that land and how its being used now. These are just my ideas, but I think there is so much power in that place that could uplift and deepen Philippine cultural heritage work. The Angono Petroglyphs’s infrastructure is simply developed. Its a rocky hike through a tunnel through the hill that hosts inscriptions carved on the other side. Perhaps leveling the drive way. Clearing up abandoned taxis and golf carts to make space for parking. A little hut for the guard. Leveling the rocky pathway down to the museum and the rock art site. The neighbor to the Angono Petroglyphs is a firing range; another past time of the wealthy. It was actually developers who were planning to level the site for the desires of the wealthy. But if it wasn’t for advocates to protect the site, it would be gone today. Again, the wealthy Filipinos with money and power could have the means to improve this site for the betterment of Philippine cultural heritage, especially rooting that story in the knowledge work of aboriginal Aeta, early Austronesian settlers, and guerilla fighters of World War II. This year has been different and hard. Getting older, inherited diseases popping up, my energy is not as strong and resilient as before. I had to let go of a lot of past activities that made me push my gas pedals 24/7. Letting go of those tasks to listen to my body was hard. I identified with those tasks; those tasks shaped my identity. Letting them go meant letting go an image or mask I constructed for myself. I felt naked. But I had time to rest and no longer feel the stress that pushed me daily forward with a sense of purpose. Some purposes can be toxic. Or the purpose is no longer mine to fulfill. My body said I had to let go and sit with that empty space of uncertainty, to not have a plan, to not have to organize logistics for others. I did attempt to not listen, then I grew a benign, infected cyst on my chest and had to surgically remove it using local anesthesia. It was traumatic to go through the scalpel with local anesthesia, feeling the sting of poking and prodding when the scalpel would touch un-numbed places. It was painful when the wound had to be filled with gauze string and cleaned out every other day; prolonging the healing by sticking things back into the wound to heal from the inside. The process was prolonged over 1 week. The anticipation of what would happen next was painfully scary and torturous. It was life saying—“I told you, stop pushing so hard for others. Now I will make you bedridden and feel sharp stings whenever you get up and move.” Lesson learned. So I dropped the group leading and decided to lead myself to practice uncertainty. I was sad to not go on a coordinated trip to the Philippines. So I decided to go by myself. I booked it a month before departure. But maybe the universe was giving me side eye because the few days before leaving, Typhoon Mawar was on its way to Guahan and would move northwest toward the Philippines. Oh just my luck! But actually, the rise of storms and hurricanes interrupting travel plans are more common because of climate change. This happened to me last year when I was planning to attend a conference in Florida, but it was cancelled and rescheduled due to Hurricane Ian. The universe again telling people—slow the fuck down or else Ima gonna slap you down. But I arrived in Manila after long flight on All Nippon Airways. (The Japanese airline was quite confortable; they fed people and gave green tea regularly.) My flight wasnt cancelled because the Typhoon still hadnt reached Tokyo or Manila airports. It was still moving slowly over Guahan. Prayers to friends who went through Typhoon Mawar. I hope they are okah.
I was relieved to take a shower and sleep horizontally on a bed at Selah Garden Hotel, 20 minutes from the NAIA airport in Pasay. Ok, I did see a little roach in the taxi and in my hotel room bathroom, but it is Manila, humid, cramped, concrete, trash, smog, moist—insect roaches are among the first creatures of this place. I am a guest in their place. It was just relaxing to finally rest even though I never reached REM (jet lag). But atleast I could close my eyes and practice unclenching my body to feel the sweet feeling of rest that precedes falling asleep. When I woke up, I prayed to my grandparents, grand aunts and grand uncles, ancestors on both sides, to guide me on this journey of uncertainty. I had a big trip ahead of me and the transport logistics and friend meeting plans were uncertain and falling apart due to the wrench that the weather and traffic and life was throwing into human plans. I asked for protection and guidance that support would avail of itself along the way. So I can feel rest and relax in this trip for myself, by myself. |
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June 2022
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