[Another post from my trip to Manila a few weeks back]
There's really no such thing as "light traffic" in Manila. Even on a Saturday or Sunday morning, the streets are hopping as soon as dawn breaks. Actually they never really stop hopping, as cars, trucks, Jeepneys, motorbikes, and other assorted vehicles are prowling the city's roadways 24/7. The most prevalent odor in the air is a slightly sour smell like fresh paint with a hint of dirt frequently interrupted by wafts of engine exhaust filling your nostril.
Crossing said streets is no picnic either. In what I like to call the "Manila Traffic Dance," pedestrians will raise one hand up as if to say: "Don't run me over as I step in front of your vehicle." In response, the drivers honk madly to signal, "Get out of my way or I WILL run you over."
It's amazing that there aren't more accidents and fatalities. My survival strategy is to always try to put at least one person between myself and on-coming traffic when crossing the road and follow the crowd.
It's also extremely difficult to predict where and when the traffic will congest. For that reason, I was picked up from my hotel at 9am to travel to a wedding that started at 11am. Fortunately, traffic was manageable and we arrived at 9:45am with plenty of time to spare. What to do until the ceremony began?
Head across the street for "breakfast" at KFC. Breakfast consisting of the usual KFC fare: fried chicken, chicken sandwiches, fries, and mashed potatoes along with unique offerings such as rice and spaghetti. To me it seemed odd to be eating fried chicken at 10am, but apparently it wasn't unusual for my hosts (I already had my breakfast at the hotel).
A line of young people snaked around the front of the building. Lines and young people are ubiquitous in Manila. At times, when it seems like all you see on the streets and the shopping malls is throngs of young faces, it feels like you've stepped into the world of Logan's Run with everyone over thirty having been "retired." You wonder what all these teens and twenty-somethings do for work.
It turns out that the line at KFC was for job applicants. One of my Filipino co-workers told me that they were applying for a few available positions and everyone in line likely had a college degree of one sort or another. A college degree to man the counter at KFC? Puts things in little different perspective.
The wedding itself was a typical Filipino combination of tradition and modernity. The groom, his groomsmen, and sponsors wore the traditional barong shirts with black trousers. The bride wore a white dress and her bridesmaids and attendants wore pastel blue and circus peanut orange outfits to ensure that no one upstaged her on the big day. Nice to see the universality of that particular custom.
The ceremony was videoed and photographed of course and neither recorder was the least bit shy about being front and center. The videographer had a lighting assistant who cast a powerful (and damn hot) glare as he swung his floodlight about. The photographer was always just a few feet away from the bride and groom openly shooting, moving around, and even staging during the entire Mass. At times it almost felt as if the altar, priest, and guests were just background props for a multi-media production.
Before things officially started (at 11:20am I might add), I asked if it was okay to take pictures in the church. It turned out to be a silly question as nearly every guest had either a digital camera or cell phone and clicked away with impunity. Filipinos take a back seat to no one (not even Japanese tourists) when it comes to picture taking. Anything, anyone, anytime. Click, click, click.
I noticed that one gentleman (not the wedding photog) was taking particular care to capture individual shots of every guest during the ceremony. No sooner had the Mass ended when three or four vendors descended upon us offering to sell four by six pictures in cardboard frames to commemorate the wedding. While I had no desire to purchase a picture of myself, I had to admire their ability to turn these things around. It couldn't have been more than twenty minutes from the picture being taken to having it to market. For EVERY single guest too.
The Mass itself was conducted in Tagalog, but I was able to follow along fairly well since the essence was the same. One thing that would have been nice in the old days of Latin Masses was the ability to attend church anywhere in the world and actively participate.
After the Mass ended, there were more pictures and then a traditional wedding exit complete with the tossing of rice. Then the reception. Pretty typical fare with food, DJ, toasts, and silly games. It also had a host and was conducted English which was nice for me. And it was alcohol free.
Back in JB's days as a rodeo clown in Oklahoma, he passed on tales of attending wedding receptions without alcohol in the "dry counties" of the Sooner state. Horrible, unbelievable stories of people "celebrating" without booze and being "high on life." Sickos.
But I had never personally experienced one. Wedding receptions are usually occasions to cut loose and live large, especially if your host provides any sort of booze sans charge. It's part of the long-standing wedding understanding: I give you gift in exchange for food and drink. If one fails to maximize on the second part of the equation, you feel as if you've been cheated in some way.
Obviously the best scenario is an open bar all night. That way you can do your drinking at a nice leisurely pace. However, it seems like most receptions these days place some sort of limits on your imbibing. An hour or two of open bar and then you pay to drink. Or maybe wine and beer for free, while charging for the hard (and good) stuff. Either situation requires a well planned and executed drinking strategy to maximize your alcohol inflow and minimize your cash outflow.
In any event, weddings and booze just seem to go together. So when you arrive at a reception and don't find any, it's a bit of a culture shock. Initially I just assumed that the customs were just a little different. We wouldn't drink before the food came, but with it. Then it was, we'll start drinking after the food is done. Finally, it was resignation to and acceptance of the fact that we would not be drinking at all.
The reception actually didn't last that very long. After the meal, there were the bouquet and garter giveaways (with slightly different twists), the first dance for the bride and groom, a version of the dollar dance (more like the envelope drop dance), and then most of the crowd began heading for the door.
I was back in my hotel room by 4pm. By 4:01pm I was cracking open a San Miguel from the room's mini-bar. Weddings always make me thirsty.
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