MANILA

 Sunday 17 July

Goodbyes are always hard. Not only was I saying goodbye to a country that I have pretty much fallen in love with, but also I was saying goodbye to Helen, who has been practically glued to my side for nearly a year and a half. I took comfort in the fact I would be seeing Helen in little over a month, unfortunately the same can't be said for Australia. We vowed to find a way back after our next adventure.

Three seats to myself on the plane to Manila signalled a good start. With seven hours of free time on my hands, I was able to finally finish Bill Bryson's book about Australia, which I have been reading since we arrived on these shores.

I had opted to stay in a slightly older part of the city near the bay in a neighbourhood called Malate, rather than the financial district of Makati with its endless rows of malls and skyscrapers. My taxi dropped me off near the apartment I had booked, but it still took a bit of finding. I had forgotten what it was like to rock up to a strange Asian city and was a little overwhelmed at first. The buzzing tangle of power lines reminded me of Kathmandu, the narrow streets and pavement food stalls reminded me of Bangkok and the crazy banged up tuktuks and jeepneys (I'll talk more about them later) reminded me of India. I eventually spotted the entrance to where I was staying down a crooked, slightly daunting little ally, away from the main road. A smiley girl checked me into my apartment. It was a bit dated and had obviously seen better days, however it was fine for me. As I left to have a little evening explore the security guard smiled broadly as I neared and said "be careful sir" this was a little unnerving.

I decided to head to the ocean which meant walking past a group of men halfway down the ally, which at first was also a little unsettling. It turned out they were security guards in charge of watching the battered CCTV screens of the nearby building site. They were very engrossed and hardly noticed me. That's very professional I thought. As I neared I realised they had tuned the centre screen into a local basketball game.

I soon reached the shoreline to see a number of big tankers bobbing about on the horizon that merged with the milky ocean under an orange haze. The water was filthy, any thought of a swim to cool off in the heat was shattered. The current had swept and scattered an alarming amount of trash along the rocky coastline. Halfway between the horizon and the shore, an enormous tanker lay on its side, half submerged. After hearing about the many shipwrecks along the Great Ocean Road and Shipwreck Coast of the 1800's, seeing a modern day one was quite chilling (My iPhone doesn't really capture the scene, so I have borrowed a pic from the local news paper's website)

The walkway along the seafront was full of life, I expected to see gangs of backpackers and army's of camera toting Asian tourists but this was not the case. The seafront seemed to be the centre of the local people's social life. Being the weekend they had all come down to hangout by the water. Some folk were offering massages, others were fishing, most just chatting and relaxing. I walked along politely trying to fend off a horse and cart driver. Unluckily for him I had just spent seven hours sitting on a flying cart and fancied the walk. He finally got the message after his fifth attempt. I walked in the direction of some boat masts which lead me to a simple little harbour. The sun had just slipped below the clouds and into view illuminating the evening haze. I sat down by the water in a friendly bar and ordered a beer to accompany my sunset. This turned into a few beers and some pork skewers. After a while I thought I'd best ask the security guard how safe it was to walk back remembering the security guard from my apartment's comment earlier. He said I should go home early, so I finished off my drink and headed back along the seafront. He too wished me farewell and told me to be carful.

The city had lit up and the walkway was still teaming with locals, however I didn't feel unsafe. I sat on the wall and unsuccessfully tried to chat to a local lad sitting next to me. He was too engrossed in his phone to say much, but he did offer me a cigarette so I must have made some sort of impression. To my right was a man giving a pretty hefty massage to another man lying face down on the wall. He was much more chatty. I stayed there for about a hour before I headed off to bed. As I left he said "Farewell sir, be careful".

Monday 18th July

I woke fairly early, I guess I was still on Australian Van time. I headed for a place nearby called Cafe Adriatico, an old rustic corner building covered in foliage. It did look very Hispanic as you would expect in an ex-Spanish colony. I went for a traditional Filipino breakfast of grilled sardines, garlic rice and a pail orangey coloured egg. It was surprisingly pretty dam good.

My next expedition was to follow the coast until I hit a place called Intramuros, a crumbly old Spanish walled city. On route I must have seen hundreds of jeepneys. These are ex world war jeeps that have been reimagined as little local buses. They are decorated with all kinds of graphics, metal embellishments and lights, with no two being the same. They reminded be of the crazy busses of Nepal and India.

It took me quite a while to get inside the city walls I must have walked around half the perimeter before I found a way in. I should have taken a leaf out of the British army's book who rocked up with a fair bit of cannon power, breached the walls and took the city from the Spanish and locals back in 1762. Having also successfully breached the walls (via the entrance gate), I started my wonder. It was as if Kathmandu and Dubrovnik had had a child, it was rustic yet charming. It was a lot more chilled out than Malate where I was staying. The maze of streets were full of lovely old Spanish buildings covered in tropical foliage, it was a pleasure to get lost in. I found my way up onto the wall and followed it around the edge of the city. Where I guess a moat once was, now was a posh golf course, there were even signs telling me to watch out for stray balls, better than cannon balls I guess. Behind the course was Rizal Park and then the gleaming towers of Makati the CBD.

I found my way to a corner section where a massive tower used to stand called The Baluarte De San Diego. The tower was long gone but the remains had been turned into a tropical garden. I climbed up to the highest point and looked over the ruins of the tower. The foundations were pretty spectacular.

I completed walking as much of the wall as was possible then went in search of a restaurant called Barbara's for lunch situated in another beautiful Spanish building. It turned out to be quite a classy joint with a Filipino band playing Hispanic covers of famous songs from the east and west. I ordered Daing na Bangus or fried milkfish, a traditional dish and a beer. Once the band spotted me they asked where I was from. They excitedly launched into the Beatles "Yesterday", then Eric Clapton's "Wonderful Tonight". The whole experience was quite surreal. As I left, the band were just finishing a blinding version of Simon and Garfunkle's "Sound of Silence".

Over the road was the famous San Agustin Church and Convent. A grand old place with a beautiful tropical garden at its centre. It's history links back to when Spanish missionary's came over in large galleons via Mexico and the Pacific. From the Philippines they spread Christianity up into Japan and China as well as parts of India. An interesting fact I picked up is out of the 108 galleons the Spanish sailed, 4 were captured by British pirates. Some of the Friers here were very interested in art and science, which manifested itself as an amazing gallery of botanical illustrations, paintings and etches. I finished my little nose around then headed for the chapel with its centre-piece, a striking tromploi celling painted by some Italian bloke. 

My final tourist tick box of the day was Fort Santiago. After the British, an earthquake and heavy bombing in the war, it's fair to say this place has seen better days. This forts main claim to fame is that it was where the nation's hero a Dr Jose Rizal spent his last days. He was an educated Filipino who was a doctor by trade caring for the poor. He sowed the seeds of revolution through poetry, art and book publishing. The Spanish didn't like this very much so had him exiled. Shortly after, he was brought to Manila, imprisoned in the fort and sentenced to death by musket. The death of Rizal was the beginning of the end for the Spaniards as the ripple effect throughout the islands caused other revolutionaries to uprise. This was the beginning of a series of events that lead to the independence of the Philippines.

With my history lesson over for the day I went looking for somewhere high up I could get a beer and look over the city. I found just the place at the top the Bayleaf Hotel. Not the cheapest of places, but bloody hell does it have a good view. I could even make out the shipwreck in the harbour. I asked a fellow on the table next to me if he knew anything about it, and I really wasn't expecting his reply. So the story goes the cargo ship sank mysteriously on Saturday night drawing big crowds. The Panamanian registered cargo ship had been seized by the Philippine Coast Guard in 2009 for smuggling high powered firearms (19 boxes of high powered rifles and 1 box of 9mm pistols) and has been anchored in the bay since. Customs learned some Filipino politicians had ordered the guns from an international gunrunner syndicate. The British captain was not on board back in 09 when the crew were arrested and sought government protection after being threatened by the syndicate behind the arms smuggling. He was shot dead two years later by two unidentified suspects aboard a a motorcycle in Angeles City. In an earlier interview he had denied the smuggling and terror charges.

I had sunk quite a few beers before I started to wonder how I was going to get back home. The beer had given me some extra courage, enough in fact to try and work out how to catch a jeepney. Probably not the best idea half cut and in the dark, but at the time it seemed like a great idea: pay loads for beer, make up for it with a 10p jeep ride home. What could possibly go wrong. Luckily nothing in fact the plan was perfect. A lad at the bar pointed out the best place to flag one down and a lady milling about in the road pointed to a jeep just about to drive off when I shouted Malate. I had to run to catch it up and dived in the back just as the driver floored it. Luckily there weren't too many people in the back. It was a white knuckle ride through the hectic streets. Some of the gaps the driver got that hunk of metal through were impossibly narrow. Still it was pretty invigorating, not only did these things look like the crazy busses of Nepal, but they drove like them too.

Tuesday 19th July

I woke up just in time to catch Helen before she embarked on her three leg flight to Rio. She too was feeling pretty shitty about leaving Aus, but when one adventure ends another begins and I think the Rio Olympics has to be up there with some of the best adventures you could sign up for. Plus she gets to hangout with her best mate Ali and her husband Sasha. I had a coffee and mango shake at a place called The Aristocrat ranked 5 out of 667 restaurants on Trip Advisor with some great reviews. Unfortunately to me it lacked any sort of charm or history you would expect from a family run cafe started in the 1930's. It didn't even feel remotely Filipino. To me it resembled a collection of tables and chairs you might find in an airport lounge, and not a good airport. Still the Mango and banana shake more than made up for it and it was a stones throw away from my apartment. I caught a cab to Rizal Park which separates Intramuros and the city. It is neatly laid out with a big pond at its heart. For some reason Asian pop music was blaring out from a set of loudspeakers. I went for a stroll around a Chinese garden which was very tranquil. There was a big pagoda in the middle with a plaque on each pilar engraved with a little snippets of Chinese wisdom.

Further up the park was another garden called Nayong Pilipino. It was showcasing artwork from a range of local artists across many medias. I had a good feeling as soon as I drew closer as there was an exhibition of jeepney sign writing and lettering by a local sign writer. He had created a set of traditionally hand painted welcoming phrases to surround the entrance. I was sold ! Inside I walked through an archway showcasing Filipino floristry. This lead me past some political hand painted posters and then onto the headline act. As I rounded a corner there parked in front of me was a jeepney completely covered in hand rendered lettering naming different destinations from across the Philippines. I was blown away by the composition and craft. It was fucking cool.

Nearby was a traditional cart which had also been decorated with lots of beautiful hand drawn type by a different artist. There is definitely a sign painting craze in Manila, I have noticed a lot of great hand painted signs across the city.

I wandered over to a little bridge across a pond, suddenly the water started shaking and turned orange as an armada of coy carp ??? charged towards me. They must associate humans with food. I crept away only to reappear on a different bank, then a footbridge then another bank. Each time one astute fish would clock me and give the signal then the stampede would commence. This I must say kept me amused for longer than it probably should have.

Back in the park I stopped by the Museum of the Filipino People. If I'm honest I wasn't trying my hardest to connect much with the museum by reading or absorbing very much, but it seemed like the museum felt the same way, as I kept getting lost down corridors which lead to closed exhibitions that were being renovated. However I did learn a thing or two more about the Spanish history.

I have been skirting around the edge long enough, so I decided to spend the afternoon soaking up the atmosphere (and a lot of carbon dioxide) amongst all the high rise towers and malls of Makati. I hailed a cab which managed to break down in a traffic jam, so I was suddenly left walking through the traffic like an opportunistic windscreen cleaner looking for a replacement cab.

Surrounded by towering office blocks and malls I quickly realised I could be in any big city centre. I had kind of expected this so decided to embrace it and wonder through the Louis Vuitton and Prada worshiping cathedrals. I had a spot of Thai food in a nice little restaurant set amongst the landscaped centre of one of the mega malls. I was getting to that point when paying for things abroad when you start to ponder whether to use all your remaining cash, or card so as to keep some cash close to hand. My next stop was SM Mall where apparently you can literately buy anything from Armani suits and Nike trainers to Uzis! I decided to try and pay with card in case I found myself the perfect Uzi. I imagine they would want payment in cash for that kind of purchase plus no one really wants that on their credit card statement. My card was declined which wasn't too much of a problem in the end because after walking for what seemed like hours through Manila's mega malls I found no Uzis or firearms of any sort. I did however find a turtle on a rock which more than made up for it!

I hopped in a cab over to Bonifacio High Street. Another shopping district, however instead of being contained in a big complex it is set along a stepped park with lots of nice gardens and a few sculptures here and there. I continued pottering about until I collapsed in a sweaty heap in a place called Market Market. A slightly lower end grittier market behind a bus station. I ordered a boiling hot San Miguel and sighed as I poured it over ice realising I was drinking local tap water. Not the best idea before a 13 hour flight, but I wasn't going to drink a warm beer. I changed venues shortly after for a place that had air conditioning and served cold San Miguel sans ice.

I continued on my travels and managed to find my way up onto the roof of another mega mall in the area, SM Aura. After wondering various corridors and stairways I found my way outside to look over the city and mountainous horizon. The sun was setting behind the city and the hazy sky was turning all kinds of colours. I must have reached the edge of the CBD which stood behind me because in front of me was a mass of low rise crooked streets stretching off for miles. Little food stalls lined some of the lanes and alleys and it appeared like the whole population of Manila was streaming into the labyrinth on their way home from work. I noticed a a little lit up sign in the distance on a wonky rooftop that said pub. I was eager to take a closer look in those little streets so I headed over. It was a cacophony of buses, cars, bikes, jeeps, fish mongers, butchers, veg stalls all shouting for attention. I was like a rabbit in the headlights feeling very far from home. It's been a while since I have experienced this side of life and this time I didn't have Helen to hide behind. Which is easier said than done due to her height. Eventually I found a staircase away from the street leading up to a wooden little room with open ornate iron work for the windows which looked down over hustle and bustle below. I perched myself on the balcony and sank a few 50 pesos (80 pence) beers and quietly took it all in.

Wednesday 20th July

I returned to Cafe Adriatico for breakfast, I have dropped by this place quite a lot since I have been here, usually for a passing evening beer. I had a quick walk around the block for a final time before checking out and making my way to the airport. With the summer of love approaching where two of my close friends are getting married, I was excited to head back to Blighty after almost a year and a half away. But I was sad this Australian and Asian adventure had come to an end.