Day 25, Summer in Asia, Manila, Philippines
When you’re up at 5 am you never know who will first stumble into the lobby to join you. One morning it was a well-traveled Belgian, today it was 73-year-old Dolores, from the Philippines. I’ve been an audience to many a monologuing extrovert, and I was just grateful, that, for a change, she was an interesting one (harsh, but absolute truth). She was surprised that I wasn’t Filipino and openly annoyed that I was part Japanese and part American, two of her least favorite nationalities. Nonetheless, these Japanese/American ears were still good enough to receive 3+ hours of her uninterrupted life story.
Some of her topics went like this:
~ I have a story to tell you, actually, I have so many stories to tell you–I am the Philippines.
~ My husband died a year ago and I only inherited his cats and being a leftist.
~ My annoying neighbor doesn’t like all my cats, so she bought me a dog. Once the cats were gone, she took my dog. Who needs neighbors like that–I can’t stand her. Well, she’s also my daughter.
~ My parents and my husband’s parents were diplomats, which means we got to travel around thinking we were more important than we ever were.
~ …that was back when we had nothing but a bunch of German Shepherds and a lot of land.
~ …that was back when I was ready to write my Masters thesis but it was during the Marcos era. Anyone writing such a document would be automatically thrown in prison where young pretty women would be assaulted. Who needs a masters that badly, especially in Economics?
~ … that was back when I collected coins, now I only collect memories, because I only have two hands.
~… that was back when I had cancer and I wrapped my head in cloth from all over the world. People thought I was from India.
~ Who really wants boys, so indecisive. I have one son, three daughters. My one son first became an architect– too boring, needed more adventure. Then became a dive master, but can’t make any money. Then an interior designer, but not enough people with good taste. Now a pilot, but no time to marry his girlfriend. My girls get a career, doctor or teacher, it doesn’t matter, then have a family–they are practical and have no problems making decisions.
She gave me a condensed history lesson of the Philippines since 1898, giving special attention how the Japanese, Spanish, and Americans have meddled. She was in Manila to protest the U.S.’s involvement in Venezuela and gave me more lessons about U.S. intervention measures in the Middle East
Turns out, Dolores wasn’t the typical blabbering extrovert, she was a bonafide story teller. So. Very. Rare. Her use of descriptive language, honesty, humor, and unexpected endings to almost every sentence, kept me mesmerized. At the end, she thanked me for the wonderful talk, when she meant, thank you for being interested in my stories. I haven’t met many skillful unscripted story-tellers. I realized how much I value a person who can weave colorful, poignant, entertaining stories from their life. I hope when I’m 73, I will have had a life as full as Dolores’, and the ability to tell a story in a way that has people sitting on hard wooden benches for hours and hours. I thanked her for the most entertaining morning I’ve ever had before anyone in my family was even awake.
While my head was still swimming with Dolores’ full life of experiences, and how she tries to make a difference in any way she’s able, I got to see the other more self-absorbed side of the people-spectrum. One of the other guests was getting ready for a photo shoot with her 3-person crew; one make-up person, one wardrobe, and a photographer. She was dressed in pink lingerie, having breakfast in the courtyard with her pink silky eye mask on her head, long silky bows on her biceps, and fuzzy pink slippers. I asked the women who run the hotel if it was for a magazine and they said no, for herself. Then I remembered the growing trend that we’ve seen elsewhere. Rich Asian people, most have been Chinese that I’ve seen, who travel with a photographer so they don’t have to lift their own selfie sticks. They want their social media feeds to be the best of their friends and not all the hassle of lifting their own selfish sticks, so they hire people. Could be the beginning of an entire industry–social media creation for anyone willing to pay for it. But her photos were so staged, void of feeling, plastic. But selfies on Instagram and Snapchat are this generation’s storytelling. I predict oral storytellers like Dolores, will become even more rare.
Later in the day we went to the Mall of Asia, which is said to be the largest Mall except for a couple in China. We had lunch in a fantastic ramen shop called Ippudo, my new favorite noodle place. Wish they had them someplace in the States other than New York.
We bought some “laundry days” shorts for the girls (shorts to wear when your clothes are gone for 24 – 72 hours to get laundered), and ate teeny tiny ice cream cones.
I found the yummy french fries like I had in the movie theater and shared some with the girls.
