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From Magic City Morning Star R.P. BenDedek
Abridged Text Version of A Philippine Wedding & Corregidor Island Originally Published 2005 On September 30th 2005 I flew from China to the Philippines to be best man at a wedding. Because October 1st marks China's National Holiday, and is celebrated for 7 days, I was able to remain after the wedding, to join the foreign guest's private tour of the Philippines. After 'two', one and a half hour plane flights, (Wuhan to Hong Kong, and Hong Kong to Manila), I arrived at Manila airport at 4.30pm to be greeted by the Bride and Groom. We then had to sit at the airport for another 5 hours until two other Australians arrived. Following that event, we undertook a two and a half hour drive to a family home in 'Calumpit'. This was our first introduction to the Philippines; a long night time drive mostly in congested traffic. While for myself and Irene, (who had arrived from Australia and who had previously traveled through India), erratic driving and horn blowing are quite 'passe', for Elaine, it was a little disturbing, to put it mildly (if you can call hyperventilation, 'mild'). We all eventually arrived at our designated overnight 'stop over', completely exhausted. We were received, fed, watered, shown to our rooms, and given the opportunity to sleep. 'Sleep?' I was up at 6:30 am, to be greeted by'It is very early! Why are you awake so early?'. 'Awake so early?' I asked: 'Who's been to sleep?' Between the 'fighting coq' pens below my window, dogs barking, cars going by, and people walking around the house in the wee hours, I had barely slept at all. Being faultless hosts, a breakfast of Bacon, eggs and pork sausages was prepared for me, along with coffee, toast and Jam (conserve). Sometime before daylight, the Bride and Groom had left the house to attend to some matters back in Manila, and our particular group of foreigners were left to look after ourselves, in a house full of people (most of whom were asleep when we arrived) to whom we had not been introduced. It took all day just to work out who was who. They did provide for us in many ways, all throughout the day, and even brought in a karaoke machine to amuse us. Later, in the evening of that first full day, we once again set off in the direction of Manila, to take occupancy of an 'Executive Apartment Suite' at the Paradise Hotel in Malalos at which the wedding reception would be held next day. When we arrived, we noted that this place really was a resort centre. It had wave pools and other interesting things for people to enjoy, and even accommodated school tour groups with dormitory style accomodation. Opposite the breakfast room was a swimming complex, in the front of which was a very interesting sign. Unfortunately, I had forgotten to bring my .38 Smith and Wesson to "Leave Guns at Reception!" We ate our Bacon and (one) Egg breakfasts with a spoon and fork. Since I had to pay for my breakfast, and being a new arrival with little change, I gave the waiter 500 pesos for the 90 pesos breakfast. As I was discussing with the ladies the question of 'giving tips', the waiter returned with my change. He handed me five very fresh and crispy, 100 pesos notes, and 10 pesos in change. I had given him 500 pesos to pay for the 90 pesos breakfast, and had received 510 pesos in change. I was beginning to like the place already. 'Am I supposed to give you a tip?' I asked of him (Since after putting the change down he just stood there). He grinned waved his hand and indicated that that was a matter for me to decide. Finally I said, "would you like this 100 pesos note?". When his eyes lit up I showed him the other four and said: "I think you give me too much change!" With that he went into a panic and ran to the cashier. When he came back, I gave him the 10 pesos change and 10 Chinese yuan (60-70 pesos). He seemed happy! On the other hand, he was not very enlightening when it came to the announcement that he then made. He announced that he was going back to the main hotel. 'Fine! Thank you for your service! Goodbye!" we all replied. Missing his point, we finally finished our coffees and headed outside. It was outside that we realised the waiter's point. If we wanted a ride, we had better go with him. We now had to walk back to the main hotel. 'That's life!' Upon leaving the Breakfast room, and in no rush to go anywhere, we took a look around the complex, finally ending up at the sign that requested people to hand in their guns. Not long after arriving back at our apartment, the first of many many groups of people turned up at our apartment. Little did we realise that our suite was to be used as the manicure and hairdressing salon, photographic studio and wedding procession launching pad. The first group to arrive were the three beautiful hairdressers. I was on the balcony smoking, when I saw them enter the hotel complex. One even looked up at me and smiled. They were a lovely bunch of women, like three pretty roses they were, until I finally heard one speak! Whoops! Two roses and a thorn!
So there I was in the Philippines, playing the part of the best man, and standing at the head of a procession of a wedding party of 32 people. The music started up, and I was given the signal to start walking. As soon as I did however, it occurred to me that I had no idea how fast to walk. So there I was walking down this long church aisle, constantly looking over my shoulder trying to work out if I was walking out too fast or too slow. Finally a professional photographer standing further down the aisle signaled me to speed up. Great! At last some real direction. As I proceeded, he gave his nodding approval. When I got to the altar area, I turned around to discover that the whole wedding party was still short of the halfway mark. I felt like a 'right berk'! If you have ever attended a Catholic service, it works like this. One minute standing, one and a half minutes kneeling, 2 minutes sitting. Stand, Kneel, Sit. That's all there is to it. But when you combine this with a wedding, and a ceremony that has primary and secondary sponsors, best man and bridesmaid, flower girls, parents of bride and groom etc etc all involved in the service, there was a lot more sitting than standing and kneeling. Finally the happy event was over, and then the photographs of the various 'wedding parties' commenced. This took some more time. And the whole time before and after the actual church service, the local beggars were inside the church hitting everyone for money. Oh the guilt of refusing a pittance for the poor in the house of God, but I was advised to give no one anything, for that would be more effective than the 'last trump' for the dead. All the beggars would arrive. Not that this mattered at all. Who was carrying money? That night was the only night that I managed to get to bed early. Early next morning we (including the Bride and Groom) were up early to commence our 'professionally guided tour' of the Philippines. We took off on a 5 hour drive to Baguio, the R & R area of the Americans during the first 50 years of the last century. It was our first chance in 3 days to see the Philippines in daylight - at 120+ kilometers per hour. Naturally, on a long long long drive, one wants to rest a little, and perhaps have a cup of coffee. The guide and driver refused to allow us to stop and rest at any 'local' place. No! We had to keep stopping at franchise places like MacDonalds and Jollibee, where they have armed security. My first chance to meet locals came at a garage where we stopped for coffee. I left the others to walk out onto the street, where, in like fashion to the Chinese, people squat to rest and chat. I squatted, chatted, and kept refusing to buy the things the local refreshment boys wanted to sell. But they stayed to chat, and every so often would run off to a stopping car, hoping to make a sale. Finally, we arrived at Baguio, which is up in the mountains (somewhere), and after a quick lunch and time to unpack, we headed off on our tour. Well, while Americans who have a vested interest in Philippine history might have found the tour interesting, this Australian was not the slightest bit interested in the long string of Famous American names that owned this and that place (which disappeared into oblivion at 100 kmph without the chance to photograph this apparently famous place). Nor was this Australian interested in the Silver market. Eventually we headed back to Manila. By the time we got there, it was dark. We ate by the pool in the Villa Estella at Quezon. It too was probably a great sight in its day, but sufficient for our needs, for bright and early next morning, we took off for a tour of Corregidor Island. It was not until after listening to the tour guide that we were assigned, that I began to understand why the American connection is so strong and appreciated. He was an older gentlemen of mainly Spanish descent who was just full of information and wit, and who did a spectacular job the whole tour through. Our guide, who has been doing his job for 30 years, was able to provide us with many intimate details of events, that had been passed on to him by the many American servicemen who had returned as tourists. He related to us the story of how one particular battery had been destroyed. It had been particularly effective against the Japanese, and they had had great difficulty in achieving its' demise. They finally sent up a brave soldier in a helium balloon who was able to relay targeting corrections, so that after many hours, the Japanese artillery finally scored a direct hit. Such was the amount of munitions in that place, that hundreds of American servicemen were vaporised when the bomb stuck. Back in Manilla before leaving for home, we went to the Zamboanga Restaurant (zambo@vasia.com). Although We had decided to skip the show, it started while we were having coffee, so we decided to hang around for a just a little while to see if it was worth watching. That little while extended right up to the end of the performance, which included a stupid Australian who lives in China, being dragged up on stage twice. On the first occasion he had to do that dance where they keep jumping in and out of big poles. If you miss? There go the ankles. Actually, he was quite brilliant at it - so I am told. Later they dragged him backstage, threw a grass skirt around his trousers (he did offer to remove them), threw a bra on him, gave him two lei's, (said with the tongue firmly between teeth) and dragged him on stage to do the hoola hoola. We arrived home that night at 10:30pm, and I had to be up at 2:30am, to be picked up at 3am, so that I could be guaranteed to arrive at the airport by 5am, to be on my 7am flight home. Needless to say that I arrived home from my holiday in need of a rest. The full unabridged story appears in two locations with two different sets of photographs. R.P.Bendedek Email: rpbendedek@hotmail.com
Stories from China at Magic City "The King's Calendar" is a chronological study of the historical books of the Bible (Kings and Chronicles), Josephus, Seder Olam Rabbah, and the (Essene) Damascus Document of The Dead Sea Scrolls. © Copyright 2002-2008 by Magic City Morning Star |
