The taxi driver doesn’t want to use the meter to take me to the National Museum, says there’s too much traffic. Asks me how much I pay? I have no idea what would be appropriate, which means I’m about to get ripped off. I say, “no thank you,” and get out.

Armed with Google maps, I start walking. The wrong way for awhile, then backtracking. It’s too hot. I try another taxi. We are on our way and appear to be on the meter.

Homeless guy seated on the meridian of a busy road, combing his hair. Gotta look good for morning rush hour. Mangy dog hunting for scraps among roadside refuse. Driver asks me questions that I cannot understand. I reply, “okay.”

At the museum, I want to learn pre-colonial Philippines history. But aside from some pottery, there doesn’t appear to be any. Its as if Philippine history began with the Spanish. And in a sense that is true. Although there were people inhabiting these islands for thousands of years before the Spanish arrived, little remains of their written tradition. Their past largely erased by the zealous newcomers.

And so the Spanish culture of the 16th century became dominant. What was a group of islands, became a colony, and then a country, named for King Philip II of Spain. Also adopted was the Spanish zeal for catholicism, which is largely still intact. The vast majority of artwork in the museum is religious: stations of the cross, Mother Mary, and priests who no one cares to remember. Although I am intrigued by one with a sword in his neck.

But not all of the Philippines are catholic. There were other visitors before the Spanish who left their faith behind. Many in the south are Muslim, who proved impervious to Spanish decrees. As it was then, so it is now.

Back on the street, very little evidence of the Spanish era remains. Although they ruled for 300 years, Manila is very much “Americanized,” at least in the business district. Further off the beaten path, there are signs, small ones: verandas, red tiled roofs, and Moorish pillars.

I see a homeless encampment. In a practical sense, modern day Stone Age dwellers. But their view is a golf course. Among them a 6 year-old girl, sings and swings on an improvised hammock. She defies the stereotype of misery, she is nothing short of joyous. She is neither aware nor bothered by her austere life, nor is she outraged or embittered by the inequality around her. Instead she is happy for the blessings she does have. Its a powerful example. One I’ll remember when I mistakenly think I have it so bad.

I wanted to take a photo, but just couldn’t do it. This little patch of ground was their home, and it felt an invasion of privacy. For people with so little, I could not take any more.

Another sign of Spanish heritage are the beautiful horse drawn carriages for hire. Built in a colonial style with gilded silver panels, pulled by skittish horses with blinders amidst the heavy traffic.

My journey is farther than pure horsepower is likely to go. I need another taxi, but first I need to break my large bills down so I can avoid the taxi drivers lame excuse, “Oh, I have no change for 500 pesos…”

Eat some deplorable convenience store fried chicken then flag down a car. Looked like a taxi, but no meter inside. “How much you pay?” He asks.

It cost me about 150 to get here so I say 150. The guy goes, “Oh so much traffic.”

“Alright, 200.”

“300 is better.”

“250 and we go.”

Deal.

In economics, this haggling process is called “price discovery.” For the price of anything is based not on the thing itself, on man hours, or effort – but on how badly the purchaser and provider want the exchange.

Although I am paying 66% higher than the going rate, it is not exactly a rip off. The amount, about $2 US, is nearly inconsequential, at least to me. The value of this ride is actually much higher, but my driver is pleased with the extra 100 pesos, and I’m pleased to be air-conditioned.

That being said, this haggling process is a pain in the ass and I wish they’d just use the meter.

Or in economics talk, use “transparent pricing.” Its something we take for granted in the West, the idea that the price is the price. Imagine how slow the world would be if you had to haggle over everything? Pizza delivery? Airline tickets? A cup of coffee?

It would take forever.

Forever is also how long my taxi ride appears to be taking. Manila is famous for bad traffic and I’m getting a taste of it. And a taste is enough. I’m off to the islands tomorrow…