To add to the list of kindnesses: a personal tour of Baguio.
After interviewing J, a perfectly wonderful and absolutely fascinating activist (says the neutral researcher, haha), she offered to show me around town. Baguio is the mountain escape of Luzon, where the wealthy of Manila flee the heat of the summer for the cool shade of pine trees and the attractions of hot springs - but it's more than just a resort town, and seems like a great city on its own terms. It felt - not quite familiar, that would be going too far, but almost. Almost familiar. Nestled in the mountains (and that's a comfortable feeling, for sure), a small city, with a park and a lake in the center and a main street rising up a hill to overlook the town - it's a walkable size, full of small shops and artists and gardens. also, a bright-pink cathedral. I guess when I say that it felt almost familiar, I mean that besides being warmly in the arms of mountains, it was a town where I could imagine living. I have tried to imagine living in Manila (because millions of people do, you know?) but I really just can't quite do it. It's too... everything! I guess I'm just not a megalopolis kind of girl, you know?
Baguio was really rather nice, though. J. introduced me to a hip, vegetarian, artist-owned cafe where we talked and had lunch, then she showed me around - first to the mall (I have been to SO many malls - they are like the official Filipino hangouts. I'm not making this up. I know it sounds like I'm trying to justify cultural laziness but seriously, malls are big deals here) and then to the cathedral, where we joined the long line to light candles, then to the park, where we paddled a boat around and tried not to run into all the families out for their own sunday paddle. We talked the whole time - she asked questions about life in America - what college is like, how the public school system works, what the malls are like, whether my family knows I have a boyfriend, what it's like living with so many freedoms (and that was a hard question to answer!) and I tried to explain American race relations, and asked about her college life and her relationship - and she talked about her ex, who never once bought her roses, and I laughed at how some things really are the same. And then she asked what I wanted to do next, before my bus back to Manila, and I said it was probably dinner time, and she said there's a greasy American diner nearby, and I pulled a face, and she laughed, and said okay, filipino food... and she grinned and asked, "Do you want to eat dog?" I took a deep breath and thought, go hard or go home...
And that's how I ended up following my new friend on a winding path through town, as she explained that they raise dogs just for eating, they don't just use street dogs - for better quality, you know - and she said we were headed to "the best dog meat in Baguio." J held my elbow to guide me through through hordes of people, between street vendors, in front of jeepneys, across the walkways over roads, through malls and restaurants, down a dark street to a darker alley through a gate to a smaller alley up an unmarked set of stairs and finally into a room full of booths and flourescent light.
As we stepped into the room, everybody - and I mean everybody - turned to stare, and J laughed. We grabbed a seat as she ordered for us. It wasn't hard - the restaurant sold exactly four items. Dog meat, rice, soda and booze. To be fair, there were different kinds of dog meat... the head (very expensive, based on the prices painted on the wall), the liver, the intestines - but we got a normal plate of - well, miscelleny, I suppose. "What part of the dog is this?" I asked J, as the plate of brown chunks and green onions arrived, and she paused and shrugged. So who knows?
The whole time we waited, people didn't stop staring- and when my plate arrived, there was a collective pause as I took my first bite. The waitresses loitered nearby as I braced myself, took a bite of aso, and chewed... and chewed... and chewed... "How is it?" J asked, laughing, and I managed to swallow and blurt out - "Chewy," and everyone in hearing range laughed at me. After I had proclaimed the meal to be, in fact, masarap - delicious, several intoxicated men came over to confirm that I was, in fact, American. "From Canada, maybe?" No sirree, I said, picking bones and gristle out of my teeth. "But - but you really like it?"
Really, though, dog meat - should you ever get the chance to try it - isn't half bad. If you're ever in the Philippines and you happen to be into eating animal carcasses, you should check it out. You'll get a good meal for dirt cheap, impress your traveling companions, and astound the neighborhood drunks. All in a good dinner's work.
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