Pt. 5 Pictures

Corregidor Pt. 5

     After lunch, we visited, for the most part, more militaristic places. We visited barracks, ammo storage spaces, batteries (not AA but artillery), and things of that nature. Rebecca said she was tired of it after the first couple of destinations, but I had a sort of boyish fascination. I explored all of the ammunition buildings with the puny flashlight on my Nokia.

     Essentially, there were two notable places. The first was the very large artillery piece with a 17 mile firing range, with a 360 degree rotational capacity. After the Japanese took over the island, several troops climbed on top of it and yelled, "Bonsai! Bonsai! Bonsai!". There were also several shrapnel scars, some as big as my thumb. The second was the "Mile Long Barrack" which housed 6,000 troops in its heyday. Now it roughly resembles its previous structure as everything but the concrete has faded away and crumbled. Even the concrete has fallen apart in places.

     Finally, our last stop, was the Pacific War Museum. There was an outdoor section of marble slabs, the brief historical facts of the Pacific Theater carved into them. There was also a chapel of sorts, essentially a dome with a hole in the top and an altar directly underneath said hole. The sun is supposed to line up with the hole sometime in April when the war ended. There was also an indoor section, which was traditional as museums go, i.e., displays and photographs and maps and uniforms donated by veterans. One thing I found particularly interesting was the display of a soldier's letters home. There were "automated" letters which were streamlined and had "Medical Condition:" and "Send My Regards To:" etc. I found it interesting because the letters were from a Houston boy, and I showed Dad and he remarked that he knew exactly where the printed address was.

     Then we got back on the ferry, finished the bad movie, and went home.

Pt. 4 Pictures

Corregidor Pt. 4

     After the Japanese Memorial Garden, we were on our way to the vast tunnel systems underneath the island. The Malinta Tunnels were originally designed to be bomb-proof hospitals for the wounded troops. As a hospital, the tunnels could fit 1000 beds, and were manned by Filipina nurses, and there are no end of stories depicting their bravery and their refusal to leave their patients during the Japanese invasions.

     The tunnels were also used as a seat of government by President Quezon during the Japanese bombing of the city of Manila. Brigadier General George Moore, Texas A&M Class of 1908, held an 24-man A&M class reunion with all of the Aggie soldiers stationed in the tunnels. The tunnels protected fuel tanks which were used to provide power to the whole island.

     The tunnels themselves are quite large. The main tunnel, running east to west, is 831 feet long, 24 feet wide, and 18 feet high. There are 11 lateral tunnels on the south side of the tunnel and 13 lateral tunnels on the north side of the tunnel. Each lateral was about 160 feet long and 15 feet wide.

     Corregidor has a resort, and thus provides the option of staying the night. There is a more in-depth tour of the island, covering the bits that weren't covered during the day tour, that includes a walk-through of the tunnel laterals that were skipped, including the hospital tunnels.

Pt. 3 Pictures

Corregidor Pt. 3

     After the Filipino Heroes Memorial, we stopped at the Japanese Memorial Garden. Here, there were several dedicated tablets and statues that described the loss and commemorated the dead.

     My first stop was a small tablet that had a brief historical/memorial blurb about the fight at Corregidor. Then, I went to a Shinto shrine, with an incense bowl and a wooden stake with Japanese characters. Not far from there was a cemetery, with a central granite lotus, and lily pads with the names of the fallen. There were also several anti-aircraft guns painted over to prevent rusting. Also at the Japanese Memorial Garden was a large statue of the ancient Japanese goddess of hope, with dedicated plaques and tablets. There was also an old Japanese flag written on by Japanese suicide soldiers.

     Being there, I felt the gravity of the location, and its historical significance started to weigh on my shoulders. Being able to walk where soldiers from 70 years ago walked was like nothing I've felt before. Because there were no velvet ropes and no "Please Don't Walk on the Grass" signs, I got to touch these historically charged items, and I think that being able to touch these things really helped them connect and hit home.

Pt. 2 Pictures

Corregidor (The Sperm Isle) 

Corregidor Pt. 2

     Corregidor is shaped somewhat like a horizontal sperm. It is split into 4 parts: Top side (the top half of the sperm's head), Bottom side (the bottom half of the sperm's head), Middle side (the section of the tail closest to the head) and Tail side (the rest of the tail). We loaded into the tour bus, and headed towards Tail side, where there were various memorial sites.

     Along the way, we stopped at Lorcha Dock, General MacArthur's launching off point on his way to Australia. Nearby was a large bronze statue of the man with a plaque inscribed "I Shall Return".

     Our next stop was the Filipino Heroes Memorial, which has large bronze murals of Filipino wars throughout history. On top of a museum filled with paintings of wartime atrocities by the Japanese, was a large bronze sculpture of a Filipino with a plow in one hand and a rifle over his shoulder, depicting the fact that many Filipinos farmed by day and fought by night.

Corregidor Pt. 1

     My day started at 5 am. We were told to be at the Peninsula Hotel by 6:30 so we could get to the docks on time for our trip to Corregidor, an incredibly historically important island about 50 km west of Manila Bay. For those of you who aren't WWII buffs, Corregidor was the last stronghold against the Japanese in the Philippines. President Quezon transferred his seat of power to the large bomb shelter/tunnel system there; General Wainwright surrendered to the Japanese at Corregidor; General MacArthur started his island hopping retreat at Corregidor. All in all, Corregidor was an incredibly important island for Japan, the US, and the Philippines during WWII.

     After a very speedy breakfast at the Peninsula, the driver took us to the docks, about 20 minutes away. After a half-hour, we boarded a "fast ferry", which is what the company calls their boats. All available space on the ferry was used for passenger seating, so unfortunately, there was no deck space to wander on. The boat ride was just over an hour, and to kill time, they played a bad movie: "The Spy Next Door" with Jackie Chan.

Photos from Pundaquit

Photos of the Clinic and the Kubow

Shower and Cooktop

My Room

Photos of the Jeep

Photos from Wild Orchid

An Update

     Hong Kong: Rebecca has been in Houston for the past week or two, trying to get the house in Montrose fixed up before she leaves on Wednesday. Unfortunately, the house has leaks and other things that houses shouldn't have, so she's had to spend quite a few dollars trying to get it in selling condition. Also unfortunately, those "quite a few dollars" were originally going to be spent in Hong Kong. So, no Hong Kong trip. Sorry.

     Typhoon Glenda: There is currently a typhoon on track to sweep through Manila in a while. That means 5-10 inches of rain, no power, etc. Also, because Dad has been in bachelor mode without Rebecca, he forgot to get new water jugs, which means we will have to ask the neighbors for a water jug. Mom, Grandma, Nana Gail, everything will be okay, I promise.

Letter to Mr. Musk

Elon Musk

     So I sent a letter to Elon Musk the other day.

     "Who's Elon Musk?", you ask?

     Well, Elon Musk is probably a super-genius. He was the co-founder of PayPal and some of its predecessors. He also founded some other super valuable internet companies. More recently, he is founder and CEO of both Tesla Motors, first company to produce an electric car that goes decent distances, and SpaceX, first private company to hook a rocket up to the ISS. Also, he's a multi-billionaire.

     Anyway, I sent him a letter asking for funds on behalf of Val. I'll post it at the bottom of this. I sent it at 3:09 PM here, which was 12:09 AM there. It is now 7:00 AM here, or 4:00 PM there. Frankly, I'm kind of freaking out. My original plan was to send the document via Google Hangouts though Google+, where I found Mr. Musk's profile. Turns out you can't do that. So I had to print the documents and scan them as pictures, which you can apparently send on Google Hangouts. So I did that. I even signed the document.

     This is stressful.

Pundaquit

     Pundaquit is a beach.

     We were invited to spend Sunday the 6th with one of Val's former patients. She and her Aussie husband live in the Australian Village, a complex of pretty swanky homes inhabited by ex-pats who are, not surprisingly, mostly Australians. Turns out, the Australian Village has its own private Pundaquit beach area with a two-story structure, complete with grill, working sink, tables, benches, etc. The second floor is an observation deck.

     The drive up to Pundaquit was pretty long. You have to get off the main highway, do some twists and turns, and go quite a while before there are any indications that you are going the right way. The land in that area is depressed (low, not sad), and Val said that when the flooding is bad, the whole area is under water. Apparently, the water laps the sides of a bridge spanning a particularly sad low area, but the bridge is fairly high up. During the floods, locals farm kang kong, a local water spinach, and when the floods recede, they set up houses on the river banks.

     The drive was pretty spectacular. The mountains that are in the background in Castillejos are really close to Pundaquit, allowing us to see the tree cover in more detail, which was quite something. There were, again, quite a few resorts along the way as well as small family farms planting rice for the second or third crop. Once we got there, we passed the Australian Village the first time, turned around, went too far the other way, and finally managed to find the place after our hostess walked out of the gate and waved at us. She is a Filipina, and her husband is an Aussie.

     I was pretty impressed by their house. It was two stories, and it was essentially two separate houses on top of each other. The 1st floor was for guests, and they lived on the 2nd floor. There was also a deck on the 2nd story overlooking the mountain where the moon rises. Below that was an outdoor space with a large raised table and a grill built into a counter with a sink.

     Anyway, we went to the private Australian Village beach strip and set up shop. Our hostess brought cheese and crackers and pickles and chips and salsa. Mona and I went to frolic in the water, while Val and the hostess talked about something or other.

     Our lunch was at a place called Dogs Offshore in a kubow 15 feet in the air. The view was great and there was a nice breeze, but getting up and down was difficult.

     And that was my Sunday.

Up the Mountain

     The other day, Val took me up the mountain to see the Aeta school, formerly a hospital. (The Aeta are the indigenous peoples of Zambales, maybe the whole of the Philippines, but not sure.) Unfortunately, we couldn't go all the way up on account of foreboding rain clouds and a flooded river, but more on that later.

     The day was clear, at least for the Philippines, so Val thought it was time I saw the Aetas. They are a short people, due to their lack of calcium. They are dark-skinned with dark, curly hair. Unfortunately, they are stubborn. They refuse to change their way of living by even an iota because if their ancestors could live the way they did, then the present-time Aetas should be able to live that way as well. Val said that they are also lazy. They would rather get the fish than the knowledge of fishing.

     On the way up, Val couldn't stop commenting on the fact that the road was now paved. I was noticing some incredible vistas. Rice paddies with mountains as a backdrop are tantalizingly beautiful. The only type of house in this area was a bamboo kubow, which is essentially a hut. It's one-roomed, no modern amenities such as running water or power, and right smack-dab in the middle of the fields. The whole "no power" thing might be false soon, as we saw power lines on our way up, and the Aetas told Evelyn that there were lines going up to the school.

     Anyway, we stopped at the house of one of Val's former patients, a 3 year-old Aetan who had corrective surgery for his cleft lip. This house had power, and was blasting their stereo. There was also a sign that had prices for charging various electronic items. We went on a Monday, so the matriarch of the family was out foraging/harvesting crops for market day on Tuesday. On the ground was a pile of peeled bamboo shoots, which are a food supplement. Of course, Val took an obligatory picture of me with the Aetas, and once I get all of the photos in one place, I'll upload it so all of you can see my awkwardness.

     While at the house, Val asked if we could go up the mountain, but the Aetas said we couldn't because the river flooded over the road, and if the Aetas say don't go up the mountain, you better believe them. There were also clouds hovering over the mountain peak, exactly where the school is. According to Val, going up after it rained/while it's raining is like driving through "chocolate soup".

Healthcare

     Healthcare is astonishingly bad here. It's shocking, and I'm not exaggerating. Whenever the topic comes up in conversation, Val gets angry about how bad it is. I'm going to describe it piece by piece.

     The state of the hospitals: It's gross. Plain and simple. The beds are old and falling apart. They are the ones covered in vinyl, and the vinyl has holes, rips, tears, empty patches, you name it. The walls are moldy. They stick 35 people in a room, regardless of age or gender, without any sort of barriers to give some privacy, with one dirty toilet. The lights are on only where it's necessary. We were walking to visit the Hope Foundation, stationed in the hospital, and half of the hospital was lightless. The same is true for air conditioning. I'm not a medical person, and it upsets me.

     Nurses: They do nothing. They actually do nothing unless a doctor explicitly tells them to do something. The day to day care for patients is administered by a family member that essentially lives with the ailing person in the hospital. Evelyn, Val's assistant, was hesitant to do anything without Val's permission when she started working with her. Once, Val was with a patient and someone put in the IV incorrectly, and the liquid started leaking into the arm, which, if not fixed, would have essentially rendered her arm useless. Val told the nurse she had permission from the doctor, which she did, but the nurse didn't let her do it until the nurse witnessed the doctor giving permission. And the nurse didn't even remove the IV, it was Val.

     Medical bills: Everything is upfront. If you can't pay for the procedure, including all of the medical supplies, you don't get it. All of the medicines are bought at pharmacies across the street after the doctor gives you a prescription. Money is often gotten after selling items of high value like motorcycles, tricycles, property, etc. and from the rest of the extended family. There is no such thing as a "charity case" here. I just recently got a text, unknown number, that someone was in an accident and is now in the hospital. Val said it was a scam set up by the phone company that, if I had replied, would have asked me to send money to the "hospitalized person". More often than not, people simply can't pay. People die from poverty.

     Malpractice: I only know what I know from pictures and what Val has described to me, so I don't know much, but here goes. Val showed me a picture of an infant with a broken leg, with a bottle of bleach as traction hanging off the bed (traction is used to keep broken limbs aligned for proper healing). First of all, infants don't need traction, their bones are soft enough that they'll just grow back together without a problem. Second of all, the fact that they use bleach bottles hanging off the foot of the bed is absolutely ridiculous. Burns treatment is also absurd. They do a lot of surgical debribement, which is essentially scrubbing the burned tissue away. Apparently the doctors do this regularly, every few days, and not only scrub away the burned tissue, but also undamaged tissue. This, as it sounds, is incredible painful. They also leave the wound open, which is one of the worst things you can do to a burn. They also essentially disregard scar management, which is almost the most important thing when treating a burn, otherwise you get horrible contractions. If that isn't addressed, essentially your body shrinks into itself. Val showed me pictures of a girl who had pretty horrendous burns to begin with. She went to a hospital in Manila for treatment for eleven months. Her scars were not taken care of, and she had incredibly bad contractions. Her shoulders shrank inward, her jaw sank to about mid-breast, leaving her mouth open at all times. Because of this, her tongue is below her lower teeth. Her eyelids come about halfway over her eyes. There is a very large lump of amalgamated flesh sitting in the middle of her chest. In other words, it's not a pretty sight. She is stuck at a 3rd grade mental level because after she got out of the hospital, schools wouldn't take her. All of it could have been prevented. All of it. She is now at an Australian hospital getting surgery to correct all of the contractions.

     This is what Val is dealing with. She is adamant about fixing the healthcare system, at least with burns, before she dies. And honestly, I hope she does it.