Taga - 'low' and slow 📍

Manila, Cebu

Map of Philippines showing Manila in the North and Cebu further South.

Thrilla in Manila 🏙️

(4th Feb) Manila: It was a small and cramped airport for a major city. ‘Taxi! Good price!’ was yelled several times in my direction. An unorderly taxi rank came with the frantic jarring honks of car horns. It was night time. Around 8pm. Pollution and humidity hung thick in the air. My hostel room had little space. I couldn't spin fully without striking something. Three other travellers also called this wardrobe ‘home’. A bar sat perched on the rooftop of the hostel. I was parched after 8 hours of flying. Whiskey. Tonic. Ice. Short glass. Crass noughties pop music bellowed from the speakers. Ubiquitous disco lights flickered haphazardly. The bar was always either half empty or half full. It was mostly populated by loud Filipinos, who I presumed were also guests. An inevitable Asian-style Karaoke night was the night’s entertainment.

A corpulent, blonde American girl hogged the microphone. She lacked the charisma or decent song choices to get the crowd up on their feet. The local Filipinos only sang songs in Tagalog. Which, unsurprisingly, only aroused excitement from other Filipinos. This cycle repeated until the rest of the bar were sufficiently drunk to join in. A small contingent, mostly men, headed out ‘on the town’. I joined. We ended up in a smoky basement pool bar. ‘We wanna try and find a cock fight’. ‘Also, we heard you can watch midgets wrestle nearby’. Two portly middle aged Americans radiated youthful exuberance. They spoke and moved around like they were two heads on the same body. The bar supposedly closes at 10:30am. I didn’t stay long enough to witness it.

Basement pool bar in Manila

(5th Feb) Manila: Past American colonialism was evident. There were more tourists and backpackers from the ‘States. Something you don't typically see elsewhere in South East Asia. Classic American diners were also popular around the city. The Filling Station being the most notorious. An upside down red car pokes eastwards out of the second story. The rest of the building is randomly tattooed with American memorabilia. Old Looney Tunes and Coca Cola signs standout. An classic black Plymouth car welcomes diners at the entrance. A Mini Cooper with adorned with a British flag seems a confused afterthought. Steak and Eggs were had in a stereotypical diner booth.

Filling Station diner in Manila

The hostel hosted a walking tour. A great way to walk off a greasy breakfast. The sites seemed to be chosen at random. The host looked familiar. She was on the night out the previous evening. But you didn’t need to be there on the night to figure that out. She looked dishevelled. As if she had just rolled out of bed. I think she had. Her feet slowly dragged along the floor. As if every step were a Herculean task. The first ‘site’ was the ‘affluent’ neighbourhood of Manila. We hastily walked through it as if it were in the roughest part of the city. A Church with little historical context and a small museum followed. It turned out that a large part of the ‘walking’ tour was spent sitting down in a cafe.

‘Cebu’-ty 🚢

(6th Feb) Cebu: Rain typically seems to greet my arrival in new cities. Streaming droplets obscured my view out the plane window. Low lying clouds didn’t help. It was barely afternoon. Yet bad weather still darkened the brightest part of the day. My accommodation was south of the main city, some 45 minutes from the airport. The bunk beds lacked privacy. Out back was a large courtyard with a swimming pool and bar. The hostel was quiet. Most of the guests seemed strangely melancholy. Weary from travelling perhaps? Two energetic girls beckoned me over to their table. ‘What are you going to sing?’ A Scottish voice asked. It was Karaoke night again. She was tall and brunette. She had an exuberance the rest of the room lacked. An equally tall English woman sat opposite. Her looks contrasted with her personality. She had fierce looking tattoos, a nose piercing and fiery ginger hair. Yet, she was a warm person and gave a friendly glowing smile. Obligatory backpacker small talk followed. ‘Which countries have you been to?’ ‘Please give us tips for Vietnam’ ‘ When will you be travelling to this island?’. My terrible, terrible rendition of Simon and Garfunkel’s Sound of Silence scared most of the room off. Bed soon followed for me too.

(7th Feb) Oslob: ‘ The bus stops on the main road’. ‘ It is the big green one’. Unhelpfully, the receptionist didn’t mention where on the main road it would stop. It wouldn’t matter anyway. There are no bus stops in the Philippines. In fact, everywhere is a bus stop. Much like hailing a taxi, one flags down a bus at any point in the street. I arrived in Oslob 4 hours later. It was barren. Slow, rolling tumble weed wouldn't be out of place here. My hostel was minimalistic. A couple of wooden shacks and a single bathroom. The toilet didnt flush. Should flushing be required, a ladle bobbed up and down in a large black drum of water. A shower head dangled next to the toilet. No divider. This definitely wasn't The Ritz.

My basic room in Oslob, Cebu

‘My brother will wake you up at 3:30am for registration’. ‘You will be the first group to go out’. I had booked to go and swim with Whale Sharks. But I hadn't anticipated such an early wake up. An early dinner followed. Pork is a staple here. I had it grilled with steamed vegetables. Soy sauce on the side. The mundane food epitomised the town. I draped myself in a mosquito net before dozing-off early, around 9pm. ‘You sign up for Whale Shark?’ A soft voice followed a delicate knock at my door. I was oddly startled for an alarm I knew was inevitable. A group of us were ushered down to the sea front. Less than 50 metres from the hostel. No one was in the mood for talking. Not at 3:30am! A queue snaked on to the main road. A legion of people were sat on plastic chairs under gazebos. After yet more ushering we were ordered to sit on the front row. Skipping the long queue. We were given brief safety instructions and some remarkably obvious do’s and don’ts.

‘Group 1’ an automated female voice called out. We boarded small narrow boats. Only 200 metres later and the engine stopped. There must have been 10 boat-loads motoring out at the same time. Small waves lapped on the sides of the boat. The sea reflected the calm hues of the new rising sun. The chaotic crowds on shore became distant. Their accompanying buzz dimmed. It was soon serene. However, I was not there for the seascape. My inelegant flop into the water lacked the grace my surroundings deserved. Below the waves, all was calm. Except for the others. Few looked like they had swum before. In the distance, unannounced, the beast appeared. The whale shark followed a small boat. At the boats heel like a loyal dog with its owner. The creature was being unceasingly fed. There was nothing ethical about what I was doing. Whale sharks typically migrate large distances for food. It was a prisoner. Gluttony is a curse levied on all of the animal kingdom. Local tour guides in Oslob plainly use this to their advantage.

Whale Shark being fed from a boat

I was out of the water by 7am. I hopped on the back of moped driven by a local. He wore a blue tank top and kept trying to make conversation. Windy undulating roads made it hard to concentrate. As did the throaty roar of an unmuffled engine. We agreed to a 150 pesos ($2.65) price to take me to and from a waterfall. Nothing in life is free. Capitalism is particularly alive in the Philippines. After I arrived, I had to pay for entry. To get back to my original driver, I would have to pay another driver to take me up the hill. To have any photos taken of me, it was yet more money. A real tourist trap.

Water cascaded from high above. Some 40/50 metres, perhaps. Yet the flow was light. Below was a natural pool. Milky white in colour. The water was cold. Too cold for most. Few ventured in. A 35 degree outside temperature made it too enticing for me to resist. After a short swim, I reluctantly paid another moped driver to take me back to my original rider. I was passed over like a relay baton, passing ‘Go’ and paying up each time. It was midday when I arrived back at my hostel. ‘Group 200’. The automated female voice was still reading out numbers. There was also still a queue for the whale sharks. Calling it unethical seemed wrong. As it was much more than that.

Waterfall in Oslob, Cebu

Did you know ❓

Manila has the worlds oldest ‘China Town’. Established in 1594.

Quiz time 📚

Answer at the end of the blog

What is fast food like in Asia? 🍔🍟

McDonald's Philippines edition: Breaded chicken, cheese, and customary rice side (twice!).

McDonalds in the Philippines

(8th Feb) Cebu: I waited on the roadside for the big green bus again. It was hot and there was little shade. 4 hours later I was back in Cebu. ‘Can I take a photo with you? My sister doesn't believe I’m sitting next to a Westerner.’ ‘Sure thing’ I said with a shred of narcissism. The woman sat next to me had already tried to take photos of me. Unsubtly, I must add. I had spotted her every attempt. She eventually asked politely. We didn’t speak after that.

In 1521 a small fleet of Spanish ships landed in Cebu. They were led by the Portuguese explorer, Ferdinand Magellan. The Spanish were looking for a Western route to the Portuguese controlled ‘Spice’ Islands. On arrival in Cebu, Magellan planted a large wooden cross. The cross still sits in Cebu over 500 years later. Christianity remains the countries largest religion to this day. Magellan would never make it out of Cebu. He died in a battle where Cebu International Airport now sits.

Magellan’s Cross, Cebu City

‘You shouldn't stay out after dark’. I had been told this a few times about Cebu. The sun was already setting. Magellan's cross had wetted my appetite for what else the historic city had to offer. There was a night market down by the docks. ‘Wow blue eyes!’ A middle-aged woman stopped me and stared deeply into my soul. She smiled to herself briefly and then let me continue on my way. Young children ran around chaotically, never straying too far from their parents. Adults were grilling different meats and vegetables under large awnings. The odd cock fight was happening in the street. ‘Just practice’ one man answered me. I had asked if I could bet on one. When in Rome!

Cebu market by the port at sunset

I picked up some a few oranges and bananas before heading back to my hostel. The streets looked seedy at night. The locals grilling food out the front of their houses, stopped and stared menacingly at me. The streets were poorly lit. Choking wafts of sewage made me wince. Drug addicts were seen frequently. A sign that Duterte had perhaps lost his war on drugs. He had just been apprehended by the ICC at the time of writing. An early night followed. I was flying to the island of Siargao the next day.

Answer to quiz: Manila