It’s a great leveller too. It
ferries office goers, professors of universities, doctors and students and
housewives by day and increasingly as dusk falls and moves into the night, it
fetches hundreds of thousands of workers in bars and restaurants to the party
arenas. Many bands playing in the Green Belt arena of Makati, one of Manila’s
many “cities” and the heart of Metro Manila arrive by Jipnee
at seven at night and leave by Jipnee at five in the morning. It is one
of the most underrated institutions of Manila that keeps this city choking and
spluttering at its seams, moving.
If it all happens on a train in
Bombay, virtually everything from romance to marriage proposals, and love and
lust happen on Jipnees in Manila. As the Jipnee wallahs go
about their business with a laidback élan as if nothing matters, life goes on in
this metropolis, somehow out of the radar of greater South Asian capitals like
Singapore, Kuala Lumpur and Bangkok.
But if there is one nation of
thousands of islands which has made the reputation of its workforce an
international equity and made itself a melting pot of the west and east, it is
the Philippines. And yet it wonders why it gets left out of many maps –
tourism, conferences and so on.
Everyone speaks flawless English,
politeness and humility is its DNA and no one says “no”. You can
communicate much better in Manila than you could in Madrid or Paris.
As evenings set in, industry gives
way to some pretty serious partying and eating. The Filipinos feed you like
moms and grandmoms. For instance, if a rib eye steak has been ordered, some
additional portions of fried or mash, with additional sauce and sometimes even
an extra portion of steak arrive by chance.
As this trip is just beginning, with
a major international conference on investigative journalism about to commence,
the backdrop is important. Manila has become the media centre of South East
Asia with the Asian Institute of Journalism and Communication becoming the hub
of innovation, debate and discussion. And Manila’s intrinsic culture of
inclusiveness and its embracing of English as its own language has played a
huge part.
This has rubbed off on key elements
of its culture – food and music. The Green Belt in Makati is home of the finest
cafes and bars, which can transport you to a blues bar in the heart of Chicago
to a beach in Cuba. The first two evenings were spent, accordingly, in Cafe
Havana, which opened its first branch in Malate, where sailors during the war
and after used to make merry. It now has another branch in the more modern
Green Belt. But the music hasn’t changed and the rum still tastes the same and
the feet move to the same songs of the same greats as Silvio Rodrigues. Even
those who do not have rum have rum here. The shelves have cigars and hats and
of course Fidel Castro; his prints actually. But the food they serve is Cuban
but make allowances for Mexican, Spanish and other European. The first
evening was honoured with spicy Hungarian sausages in a skewer with bacon with
buttered corn cobs and fries, fried in bacon oil. The second night was a Spanish-Cuban
fare. The dish was Ropa Vieja, Spanish for old clothes, made of
shredded beef stewed in tomato, onions and spices, served with Cuban style rice
with black beans and fried platanos.
Everyone has a smile and is ready to
please. And they love it. As yours truly, stuffed with Ropa Vieja, was
walking away from Cafe Havana to look for a Jipnee
as the bar was closing, he saw a sight to behold. One of the bar girls cleaning
up after the guests were leaving put on the music again and gyrated to a Cuban
number, the bartender joined her and danced beautifully. And then as the
bartender mopped the floor, the bar girl playfully soiled it with her high
heels, only to be chased round the dance floor by the mock angry bartender.
Light at heart. Full of heart.
That’s Manila.
