I thought this is relevant as many of the comments on the blogsite refer to Imelda and what I wrote about her. This is a chapter of my memoirs about my very first experiences in Manila and my thoughts on the Marcoses at the beginning of the Marcos Presidency.
I arrived in Manila in late June 1968. My initial impression was of a sprawling, bustling and filthy city, its downtown roads continually jammed with impatient, honking traffic. Dilapidated, overloaded buses belching diesel fumes, vied for space with garishly painted and
ingeniously adapted World War II jeeps, known as jeepneys. A motley assortment of decrepid taxis ploughed their way through the potholed roads alongside ramshackle trucks, flimsy bicycle rickshaws and sleek air-conditioned limousines, their glass darkly tinted to keep out the prying eyes of the endless hordes of curious people thronging the streets and sidewalks outside. Amidst this chaos, emaciated stray dogs, cats and rats scavenged for scraps of food among the numerous piles of discarded fly-infested rubbish dumped outside countless fast-food restaurants. And, circling the churches, limbless beggars and able-bodied scroungers competed with candle sellers and vendors of religious artifacts for a monetary offering from the…
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