Rumour has it that General Yamashita - bracing for Allied retaliation - hid Japan's gold reserves in the mountains of Leyte island. This gold had been plundered from all over South East Asia, originating from European treasuries who had sent it to Indochinese colonies in the hope that it would be safe from the Nazis.
"Lolo" Kakoy, my 71-year-old host, spoke of Japanese cement markers, inscribed with codes, dispersed in the hills near Dulag. Some of them led to other markers. Others led to treasure or booby traps.
He certainly convinced me there was still gold there - even though it dawned on me that the best way to avoid danger would be to hoodwink some naive schmo into doing the searching for you - and became more persuasive as we drank more 'Tuba'; home-made coconut wine indistinguishable from rosé but for a slight coconut aftertaste, and being served out of engine oil containers.
Tuba-goggles is a known phenomenon, Tuba being deceptively potent, and it was this - I am sure - which led to my first marriage proposal ... from one of Kakoy's nephews. Well, at my age you can't be picky. Anyway, the proposal fizzled. Sigh, always a bridesmaid, never a bride.
Turns out he had just bought a DVD player and, after having exhausted his English in our conversation, resorted to words he had picked up from watching movies. Cheesy romantic comedies apparently, judging by the stammering Hugh Grant way I was asked to marry him.
The seamless meshing of high-tech and low is endemic across South East Asia. Stilt-houses built of wood and concrete brick, kids and animals running around underneath, no running water, have Satellite TV inside, hooked up to Dolby Surround Sound. Blackouts last hours, sometimes days, but you know the power's back on because the neighbours are singing karaoke again.
What makes Filipinos/nas unique (in my opinion) is their love of ... well, love. The only Asian sub-species with rhythm are also blessed with incredible voices. (There are exceptions, like the karaoke patrons across the road from our Manila hotel whose ritualistic torture of old and new tunes could be heard before dawn.) And they use this musicality to court, flirt, cajole, and become American Idol finalists.
Their worship of romance, passion, and ultimately family is overpowering. I imagine the 'housewife' booth placed next to 'CEO' on careers day. In neo-Confucian Singapore, children are a feat demanded by filial duty. In litigious Australia, children are crawling lawsuits. In the Philippines, carrying a baby is like holding a Visa Platinum card - doors magically open. In fact, Santo Nino - the Christ child - is a patron saint of Leyte. From choked Manila to the steamy countryside, accompanying my 15-month-old nephew meant smiles and fast-tracks wherever we toured or ate.
Coconut and pork seem to be staples of Philippine diet, and they do wonderful things with the two. Dinuguan is a stew of pig intestines in coconut vinegar, the by-product of spit-roasted pig ('Lechon'). It can be eaten as a main but it was most memorable as (deliciously sloppy) finger-food, accompanying Tuba, idle chatter, and the random explosions of DIY fireworks on a jungle Christmas Eve night, while hubby, Kakoy, and I waited for Mass and the midnight feast.
Christmas is a big deal in the staunchly Catholic Philippines. And though their neighbours - Indonesia and Malaysia - are vociferously Muslim, it's testament to Filipinos' rollicking good-nature that they get along with nary an incident. Their humour is evident in the signature 'Jeepney', a marriage of bus and graffiti art. These diesel-powered chrome wonders ply the shabby roads, each baptized stirringly: 'Grace of God', 'Sto. Christo', 'Blessing of Jesus', as if courteously preparing their passengers to meet their famous namesakes.
Pinoy loyalty extends easily past religion, to encompass country and countrymen - even if they've lived abroad for years. To see the strength of this bond, you need only look at the baggage claim carousel at any airport in the Philippines and watch as homecomers drag in monstrous cartons of gifts representing many times their own weight in first world wealth.
It is hard to reconcile this spirit of charity with a government that spent millions building lavish palaces and siphoned billions more offshore, leaving crumbs for a struggling populace. My wealth gauge for a South-East-Asian nation runs inversely to the number of people you usually see on a motorbike. Unfortunately, the Philippines is still a 7 person-per-moto country. It is easy to say that the big, big hearts of the people is the gold that neither invaders nor despots could take, but 'heart' is not a currency the World Bank deals in.
There is another rumour that Ferdinand Marcos already found Yamashita's gold in the 1970s and hustled it to Switzerland. That would be a pity. His people could certainly use it right now.