Manila

July 28, 2011
The last two days in the temple before our two week shut down for cleaning were busy and rewarding with several youth groups coming for baptisms and many coming to attend sessions. Larry did not feel well; he apparently caught the terrible cold bug that nearly all the couple missionaries have had—but he kept going, and dosed up on vitamin C and cold medicine. We did not get up early Sunday even though Ganirs and Jorgensens asked if we wanted to ride to Lapulapu with them. Our meeting in Lapulapu 2nd Ward did not start until 10:30 which gave us an extra hour to rest. Larry had been asked the previous week to speak in this week’s Sacrament meeting and he did an excellent job. He had to cut his 15 minute talk to 7—and it wasn’t even my fault this time since I didn’t speak. We came home, ate, napped and packed for our Manila trip.
Elder Ganir graciously woke up early to take us to the airport at 5:30 am in the missionary van. The airlines here are very strict about being on time for check in—and both times we have flown on domestic flights, the planes have left early! We arrived in Manila 20 minutes ahead of schedule, probably because we left 20 minutes ahead of time!
We had been warned that the traffic in Manila was unbelievable. To parody a favorite children’s book (Millions of Cats) : “cars here, cars there, cars and buses everywhere—hundreds of cars, thousands of cars, millions and billions and trillions of cars”. It’s no wonder that it took us an hour and a half to get from the airport to the Temple Patron Housing where we stayed. It cost us 1000 pesos for our taxi (which we were more than happy to pay; there is no way we could have driven). We rode in bumper to bumper traffic until just a few blocks from the temple. But in a city of 12 million people, what do you expect—especially when their freeway systems are not fully developed. Signs along the freeways were entertaining. Some sponsored by the Dole Company read “Don’t text and Drive”, “Drive safely, check your brakes, keep distance”. (The last two items were significant—brakes and horns are essential in traffic here, but the last one?—I don’t know how you could keep your distance when most of the city traffic is truly bumper to bumper
When we arrived at the Temple Patron House in the White Hills area of Quezon City, where we had arranged to stay I was surprised to see that there was no CR in the individual rooms like we have in the Cebu Patron House apartments. Instead there was a community rest room with 4 toilet stalls and 4 shower stalls and basins. I had not put in a muumuu (which I use in place of a robe here in our apartment), partly because I didn’t think I would need one, and partly because I didn’t have room in the suitcase, so whenever I needed to go to the bathroom early in the morning or late at night, I opened our door a crack, peeked down the hall, and if no one was in sight, made a mad dash for the restroom or CR, and then reversed the order going back. The Patron House is old and somewhat run down. There was mold growing in the CR, especially on the shower curtains. The beds were 4 inch foam mattresses and were fairly comfortable. We were given a bottom sheet and a pillow case, and I talked the gracious office person into giving us two more fitted sheets for a top sheet (fitted was all they had—the Filipinos don’t sleep with a sheet over them). When I slept, I pulled the elastic corners around my shoulders and felt like I was in a mummy bag. With four bunk beds and two pull out beds, ten people could be accommodated in each room and yet they let us have a room to ourselves since it was not their busy season. The manager even let us leave our extra clothing and baggage in the room when we left for three days in Baguio. The bunk beds were way too short for Larry and he opted to sleep on one of the pull out beds with my carry-on under his feet. We were grateful for a safe, comfortable place to sleep without having to pay the exorbitant fees of the Marriott or other big hotels that some of the missionary couples paid; our three nights cost 240 pesos total compared with 4000-5000 pesos a night that some paid. And we were right across the street from the temple so we could go to the very early sessions or the last evening sessions after we had participated in day time activities in Manila. We were able to attend four regular sessions and one sealing session during our stay. We found in talking to the assistant matron, Sister Wong, that the Manila Temple President is returning to the US in November and that President Cuyong of our temple presidency has been called as the new Manila Temple President. That will necessitate President Mortimer calling a new counselor for Cebu.
Our first Monday excursion was the monthly craft show at the World Trade Center sponsored by the American Women of Manila with the 100 peso entrance fee used for Manila charities. Several of the missionary wives who had served here before gave glowing reports of what we could buy there, but we were disappointed. We had been told that it was to be their biggest show of the year with lots of Filipino Christmas crafts. Instead there were lots of booths of clothing and shoes and various other things, but not what I was looking for specifically. Apparently I was not the only one; very few people seemed to be buying and we felt badly for the people who were selling. I did find a booth with quilts that were gorgeous, and very expensive, and ordered a lovely appliquéd small quilted wall hanging with scenes of Filipino life and objects surrounding the center square with the Cebu Temple in it. Larry found a painting of Filipino country life that he liked which we purchased.
Our second venture was to have a taxi take us to the American Memorial Cemetery. We asked the driver if he knew where the cemetery was and he said, “Yes”. But a repeat performance of my experience years ago in Tahiti was staged as the driver took us to wrong places--two Filipino cemeteries--before finally asking for directions and ultimately getting us to our desired destination--the American Memorial Cemetery. He had not understood what we were asking, and he certainly did not know how to find it on his own. .) There were toll booths along the one freeway we took. Cars were lined up to go through the toll booths and men wearing face masks to protect them from the exhaust pollution walked back through the lines collecting tolls and handing out paper slips which were then given to the person in the toll booth. . .I will never complain about the traffic in Cebu again.

We were dropped off at 3:30 pm after driving all over Manila, but we recognized immediately what a gem of a place the American Cemetery is. Nestled in the middle of high rise towers and bustling roads, it is an oasis of 152 acres of beautifully manicured green rolling hills covered with rows and rows and rows—17,097, of white marble crosses and a majestic monument. We experienced a feeling of quiet reverence as we walked through the gates. The gardens are filled with exotic plants and regal palms. The center walkway circles around a fountain and leads upward to the main memorial. The Memorial itself includes the impressive circular Wall of the Missing which has the names of the 36,286 Americans and Filipinos missing in action during the Philippine WWII conflict engraved on the huge stone slabs. These meet and are bordered by four large rooms with 10 foot mosaics portraying the important battles of the War in the Pacific. The Memorial also has a bell tower and a tall chapel with the sculpture of St. George fighting the dragon, symbolizing the American soldier fighting his enemy. We sat on the stone benches in meditation and appreciation for the brave souls who gave their lives for freedom. The feeling of awe and honor was overwhelming.
Our taxi ride back to the Patron House cost 200 pesos; our ride there had cost 700! Knowing where to go is important.
Tuesday morning we got up early and went to the second session at 7 am in the temple. My first impression was that the air smelled very musty as we walked in the door but the friendliness and gracious welcome from the workers counteracted those negative thoughts. After the session the temple president, President Moises M. Mabunga, took Larry on a tour of the temple, but I had already dressed in street clothes. We got back to the Patron House before Ganirs and Bringhursts arrived from the airport. Once they were situated we hailed two taxis and headed for Chilis for brunch, something the others had talked about doing for weeks.
Our next stop was the Pearl Market in the Green Hills Mall. The Mall was huge. Without a guide a person could be lost for weeks. Ganirs and Bringhursts had been here before and knew just where to go. We traipsed through huge sections of shoes, handbags, belts, coral and seashells, baskets, rugs, religious statues, watches (and nearly lost Elder Ganir and Elder Bringhurst as they stopped to look) before we came to the pearl market. I had no idea there were so many oysters in the sea to produce so many and such beautiful pearls! 180 booths with rows and rows and trays and trays and strands and strands of pearls of all different sizes and shapes and colors opened before us. Luckily, Sister Bringhurst had texted her favorite jeweler the night before to learn the number of her booth. The proprietors switch places with each other once a month so the ones on the corners do not always have the advantage. Most of the booths were run by Muslim women in beautiful head scarves. Norjie, our “hostess” jeweler, was a beautiful Filipino Muslim assisted by her daughter and two nieces. She was very knowledgeable, and according to Sister Ganir sells nothing but the very nicest. Jodi and Diane knew ahead of time what they wanted and soon had the girls stringing and double knotting the strands of pearls they selected. There were white pearls, cream pearls, pink pearls, gray pearls, black pearls, iridescent pearls, copper colored pearls, cranberry colored pearls, seed pearls, oblong pearls to mention a few, and then the possibilities of the creations and styles were endless…choker necklaces, strands, rings, bracelets, pendants, brooches. I stood dumb-founded. Jodi said I didn’t need to try the tooth test where you rub the pearl over your teeth to determine if it is real—these were all real. I was enchanted with the soft luster of these lovely pearls. Before we left, I had selected a few things I hoped my daughters and granddaughters would enjoy; I am saving the granddaughters’ until they are a little older, however, and will appreciate the value and beauty of real pearls.
After several hours, we were ready to leave. Diane and Allan Bringhurst were anxious to meet with some missionary friends for dinner. Ganirs decided to attend the 5 oclock session at the temple with us. We were asked to be the witness couple. The seats are so close in the session room that Larry and I could not stand at the same time. But the session was lovely and we were asked to do sealings following. We ran to Rustans, the grocery store just down the street from the Patron House, just before they closed at 9:30 pm and bought food to share with Ganirs in our room. All of us were worn out and happy to hit the sack so we would be prepared for an early departure for Baguio and points north the next morning.