Philippines

Nice day for a(nother) white wedding

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The wedding wasn’t until 3pm (with a van departure time from the hotel at 1:30pm) so we had the morning to chill. Not accustomed to a 9:30pm bedtime, I awoke early, feeling energetic and headed down to the pool and did some laps – my first serious swim in quite some time – I managed 10 laps before exhaustion set in (although I am pretty sure the pool was probably only 30-40 metres). After that it was time to refuel with breakfast. We reserved a table so Tess and Cass could join us but didn’t really factor in the fact that Nene, Kookie and Myko would also be down for breakfast. Dean and his groomsmen also met for breakfast in the hotel. After a lazy brunch, a very nervous Dean headed off to get ready. I surmised he would only get more nervous if he got ready five hours before the wedding but as it turned out there were many photos and a lot of video to be captured in the interim.

We on the other hand didn’t need five hours and went for a quick trip back to the mall to find a charger for Dan’s camera and to see if we could locate the Clark’s store and see if they had the shoes I had seen at the Mall of Asia in stock. Alas no but they were new so no harm in rechecking later in our trip. We walked around for a while and headed back to the hotel to chill out in the aircon and start getting ready for the wedding – I have my routine down to an hour and a half for special occasions and hit it on the money. Dan, as a gen X Australian male, takes considerably less time. Unlike Germany the hotel here came with an iron and board but not one Julie Bishop would have been happy with I suspect. After tying Dan’s tie – in the inferior half Windsor knot I learnt for school, and applying my red lippy, we headed downstairs. When yon you mix the schedule of a wedding and the malleable relationship Filipino culture has with time, there was definitely going to be some serious waiting in the lobby. Eventually though the extremely nervous groom, his mum, his groomsmen and the rest of the family were on our way to the church. The expected delay had obviously been considered in the scheduling as we arrived a good half an hour early. (I Still Love You – The Slackers – a simple little raga ditty that always makes me move.)

We traversed the same freeway we had travelled on the previous day but went off the freeway and into one of the areas with corrugated sheds and roadside stalls – my favourite business was E&P [surname] Junk Shop. We also passed a Jeepney station. It was raining so the gravel areas on the side of the road looked a bit boggy. Eventually we turned down one of the streets with makeshift corrugated steel sheds and around the corner was the large, cavernous church – apparently one of the more impressive in Manila. That’s one of the strange things about Manila – after driving through an area that looks like it is a ramshackle shanty town, you round a corner and there is something quite impressive in front of you.

The colour theme for the wedding was orange and grey and while there were a number of interpretations of orange (such as peach), my navy blue dress stood out (as if being half a foot taller than everyone and blessed with lily white Irish skin and features to match didn’t make me stand out enough). The wedding invitation, which proclaimed the dress code, arrived only a few weeks before the wedding because of our previous trip to Germany. Although I had a plan, I ran out of time to make a dress or order something online. And despite my best efforts, I couldn’t find anything suitable in town. So I went for my standby formal dress – purchased for a wedding five years ago and worn to quite a number since. All of them still very happy – let’s call it my wedding good luck charm. Cass was wearing a purple patterned Camilla and Marc dress but even it had some red/orange through it. A completely grey outfit was easy to achieve from Dan’s existing wardrobe.

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As we entered the church there was just a sea of grey and orange and plenty of decorations everywhere. Dean and Shan, both working overseas while planning their wedding, had engaged the services of the wedding planner. And he was quite omnipresent throughout the ceremony, directing people from the place where you normally stand for gospel readings. The photographers and videographers were also everywhere with heaps of equipment. Gone are the days where they didn’t even allow cameras inside the church. This was a Catholic wedding and the mass itself was quite similar to an Australian Catholic mass – except for three differences I noticed – there is a Homily from the priest but no Gospel reading by him; Filipinos open their hands upwards during the Lord’s Prayer (something you sometimes see in Pentecostal churches) and they don’t shake hands for the peace be with you. (Safe European Home – The Clash – one of their lesser known tunes but it has all the right elements – a danceable beat, Joe’s unmistakable vocals, great rhythm guitar and a social conscience).

The wedding ceremony on the other hand has quite a few differences. Firstly the couple has a series of sponsors – like the equivalent of godparents – who are there to guide the couple on their journey through life as a married couple. The number is variable (like the number of bridesmaids) and this wedding had about five or six couples. Generally there is one bridesmaid and a group of flower girls but this was a hybrid wedding – part Filipino, part Australian – so there were three extras required to match the four groomsmen. This made or quite the procession into the church – flower girls, bible bearers (page boys), bridesmaids and groomsmen and sponsors. Then the groom walked down the aisle with his very proud mum. Once in place everyone was ready for the bride. She walked into the church alone, halfway down the aisle, where she was joined by her mother (and brother) down the aisle and give her away.

It was then that my brother teared up standing at the aisle waiting for his bride. The couple sat on a seat at the front facing the priest. Dan and I had been requested to be part of the offertory procession and were given our directions by the wedding planner. Of course we hadn’t realised that carrying the candles, we would be at the front of the procession. A bit awkward because the last time I did this I was about 15 and Dan has never done it. Anyway apparently we got through it OK and took our seats to hear the vows. The vows were very similar to Australia but included mention of the man as breadwinner and a reference later in the ceremony to the bride being a good housewife. These standard vows were followed by some the couple had written themselves. I was particularly impressed with the heartfelt and poetic vows my little brother had written. After the vows the couple together with a veil and cord wrapped around both of them for the remainder of the ceremony. The groomsmen and bridesmaids had little role in the ceremony with the official witnessing role being performed by the sponsors. The rest of the ceremony went largely as I am used to with the regular mass and then the couple’s kiss. The procession out was as they came in (except of course for the bride and groom). At the front of the church a mass of orange and white confetti was thrown followed by floating orange and white balloons. Then the couple headed back into the church for more photos, while the rain came down outside. (Spell – Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds – one of the eery piano based tunes from Mr Cave, with a choral undertone, this could easily pass as a hymn).

Those who came from the hotel in the vans (minus the groom) got back in the vans and headed for the reception. It was in another part of Manila and a bit of a journey past some of the most impoverished areas I had yet seen and then into what was definitely a gated community. Sadly, surrounded by an electric fence. The US influence on the Philippines has made for some great strides forward but this isn’t one of them. The fact that people feel the need to live behind an electrified fence is just as confronting here as the guarded gated communities in the US and seems even scarier than the need to check under cars entering hotels

The venue was in a function hall inside this community but one imagines that a function room in a major hotel would be a premium and anywhere else (sadly) you would also require security for such an event. When we walked in it was awash with the signature colours from the wedding, in particular orange. There was a long table down the middle where all the sponsors sat. To one side was a table for the parents of the bride and groom (in this case the mothers) and we were seated with the groomsmen. There was a couch in front of a video screen with a pre-wedding video of the couple playing.

When the bridal party arrived, they boogied their way in followed by the bride and groom. Instead of the usual speeches, people were asked to grab the microphone and wish the couple well, starting with the groomsmen. Throughout the evening we were treated to two videos, a kind of highlights package of the bride’s entrance and then a fully edited wedding video later in the evening. Food was served – snacks on the table – corn chips with what appeared to be sweet US style cheese whizz squeezed over them and small pieces of pork on sticks, which one of the groomsmen procured the right sauce for. The entrée was a small salad of lettuce onion rings and tomato. This was followed by a buffet that included western food – spaghetti alfredo, fried fish – and Filipino delicacies, then a series of Filipino deserts and cakes and finally one of my faves (that I was a bit too full for – macaroni salad (which I am sure has a much better Filipino name). As my experience of eating Filipino food has largely been at home or at other people’s houses in buffets, I have never really learned the correct names – I know what it looks and smells like. (And yes I know adobo). (Brick is Red – The Pixies – one of their rawest, chaotic numbers that would sit equally at home with PIL, Sonic Youth or any other post-punk luminaries.)

The bouquet/ garter ritual was performed slightly differently too. All the single girls were called to the front by name (so there was no way for them to hide). The object here however was to avoid being the last woman standing – instead of the bouquet, the bride through flowers (one less than the number of single girls. My sister happily caught the last flower. There was a similar game for the boys where they had to perform the dance moves to a popular song until there was one left standing who hadn’t managed it. The remaining singles were forced into kissing each other (on the cheek and forehead in this case). I was surprised that there was even reference to removing the garter here but it too became a game where the remaining single guy was blindfolded and was actually trying to remove the garter from another groomsmen instead.

The traditional dances were performed – groom with his mother, bride with her brother and bride and groom. The cake cutting was the first sign of any alcohol at the wedding with the bride and groom sharing champagne while they fed each other cake. Very unlike an Australian wedding where the bill for the bar often costs as much as the rest of the wedding. As has been the tradition in recent years, the cake was made of cupcakes. Chocolate cupcakes that were packaged up easily for guests to take home.

The tradition here instead of a table of wedding gifts that you take home and never use is to pin money to the bride’s dress. We had decided to be a bit more traditionally Australian and have a gift in mind for when the bride and groom are both in Australia. However, I couldn’t help but join in the fun and took the pins and a thousand pesos and went for it. They gave you such tiny little pins that it would be easy for one to get stuck in the dress and stab the bride when she sat down. Everyone got in on the act, including one of the gentlemen sitting at our table who made a crown of pesos for the groom’s head.

Once the formal festivities were over, a round of shots came out – rum and coke and some type of mandarin liqueur. It was also about the time we were advised that our vans would be leaving. Given we didn’t have a clue where we were, we opted for heading back to the hotel rather than trying to organise a taxi, which may or may not have come if we had even known who to call. (Here I am, Come and Take Me – UB40 – maybe it’s the weather here but I have been on a bit of a reggae kick on this trip, albeit a slightly retro one in this case.)

After we got back to the hotel, Kookie, Cass, Dan and I headed across the road for a drink. One of the bars in Greenbelt, Draft I think, was recommended to us and turned out to be great. We sipped (good) cocktails (and beer in the case of Cass and Dan), ordered some bar snacks – a tray of various fried seafood things on a bed of chips and chatted for a good couple of hours – it was a very pleasant end to the evening.

Mall rats

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The breakfast deal turned out to be thoroughly worthwhile. Not since our first monumental breakfast buffet experience in Abu Dhabi have I seen such a spectacular selection of breakfast options. And while in Abu Dhabi it was a fully laid out buffet, here in Manila it was peppered with culinary stations where you could have omelettes and stir fries cooked and smoothies made. There was an immense bakery station with a few local hybrid options like the adobo bun and ensaymada muffin and preserve options that included marmalade and chocolate marmalade; a pancake and waffle station, with a variety of options included caramel and banana; a western breakfast station with oatmeal, scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, roast tomato, baked beans and glazed ham; a Filipino station where the local options changed daily, a Japanese station with sushi, an Asian station which included Chinese breakfast options and the ever popular congee; a northern European station with cold cuts, cheeses and boiled eggs (sadly no salmon or pickled things); a cereal counter, including my fave, Bircher muesli; various fruit juices, tropical fruits and yoghurt. I have probably missed something. Needless to say, Dan, who judges holidays partly on the range of culinary delights available, was in heaven.

After a number of rounds of breakfast were consumed, and a chat with Tess and Cass about our plans for the day, we left them to go pick up the religious accoutrements required for the wedding and we headed off to experience one of the results of the heavy dose of American culture on the Philippines – mall shopping. We had been told that the Mall of Asia was the biggest mall in Asia (although I think that might not be the case anymore) so we decided to grab a cab and head there. It cost less than $10 Aus for the 45 minute journey. And it was the journey not the mall that was the most interesting. We zipped past a similar myriad of corrugated iron shelters, street vendors selling everything from clothing to fresh fruits and vegetables and jeepneys. Lots of Jeepneys. (Highway Kings – Bouncing Souls – one of my favourite punk bands (with enough skank to keep it interesting) – I still have a Bouncing Souls work shirt at home – now that really does date me (and them))

Jeepneys were originally re-purposed troop carrying jeeps left by the Americans. Today, they look to be built for purpose, some at varying stages of decay, and form the major public transport system in Manila. There is a metro but its reach is limited and requires the assistance of jeepneys to complete any journey. It is jeepneys you see everywhere on the roads not buses. The Jeepneys are all individualised – some with a streamlined appearance, others with brightly painted murals but almost all have some reference to God incorporated in the livery. God speed, In God we trust – it’s like the Christian version of the Turkish Inshallah. You can be left in no doubt that you are in a country where religion, largely Catholicism, runs deep. Many of the taxis too have religious iconography in the form of dash mounted or rear vision mirror hung figurines. Where we would have Game of Thrones bobble heads or fluffy dice, you will find statues of Mary.

Like Dubai, the climate here suits the prevalence of air-conditioned malls – only here, like some of the more tropical parts of Australia, they have chosen to make half the mall open air. Despite that, the security is quite intense with bag checks and metal detection at all entrances – largely as a deterrent because neither The Mall of Asia had a reasonable selection of stores – I found a Clark’s store but resisted the temptation to add to my shoe collection – but you got the sense that its heyday had passed a bit with newer malls in Makati taking up its position as shopping destination. The stores here weren’t the bargain basement options but they weren’t the real high end either. This was not the mall to find Jimmy Choo. We wandered around for half an hour, mainly checking out sport shoe, electrical and toy stores. Like in our hotel, where there was someone to greet me with Good Morning Ma’am and press the elevator button for me, the thing you notice most about malls in the Philippines is the overwhelming level of service and the number of people ready to serve you in the stores. The first toy shop we walked into there was a service person at each aisle to say good morning ma’am – I felt like I had said good morning more than 50 times in the five minutes we were in the store. Partially this would be about security but it is probably also the fact that wages are so low and customer service expectations so high, that companies can afford to do it.

The idea of a minimum wage you can live on comfortably is a difficult conversation in a heavily populated country like the Philippines where so many of its citizens work abroad as guest workers to earn higher wages than at home. What happens here, where there is little or no safety net – if wages were higher in service industries, companies would likely cut staff. Is providing the opportunity for some people to earn more while others would then earn less a good solution. Something definitely needs to be done to ensure workers can actually live on their wage but I am not sure what the solution is – perhaps there is power in the idea of collectivism to ensure at least no one is being paid less. (Jumpin’ Jivin’ Jimmy the Ghost Joyce – TISM – only TISM could combine renaissance poetry and AFL in an homage to a hero)

A visit to the toilets in the mall reminded me I was definitely in Asia – no squat toilets but it was and put the used TP in a waste basket next to the toilet to lessen the load on the plumbing system. Minhua had taught me never to leave home without a packet of tissues in China. I just hadn’t made the connection here. So far I hadn’t handed over cash for anything so use of the vending machine (2 pesos I think) was out of the question – the smallest change I had was 500 pesos (about A$16). So I traipsed down to the pharmacy and picked up a few things – it looked like I was standing at the medication counter although it didn’t look like anyone was producing a prescription for the stockpiles of medication they seemed to be purchasing – there were even free gift bags for spending over a certain amount. Eventually someone ushered me into a marginally shorter queue. Then it was back upstairs to the toilets. If there hadn’t have been three or four 20 somethings painstakingly re-applying (as opposed to retouching) their makeup, on my first visit, I might have been able to pinch some of the paper towels available for drying your hands. FYI – standing behind the next bunch while waiting for the basin, I felt like a giant as none of them, despite all wearing heels, even came up to my shoulder.

Apart from the different offerings in the food court and the different names of some of the local stores (mainly selling US brand sneakers (half of them probably made locally), the thing that really strikes you is the number of shoe stores offering lifts and specially crafted shoes to make (mostly men) taller. I am not sure why men need to be taller. At home the need for a man to be taller subsided with tea dances and the like. The other difference is the plethora of electronic shops that sell mostly accessories for phones.Mobile phones seem to be the great leveller here. The age and quality may vary but almost everyone has one. After an hour or so wandering the byways of the mall of Asia and finding no model shops, Dan and I decided to grab a cab to the Mega Mall, which purported to have the elusive model shop. We flagged down a cab and after Dan realised the set price the driver had offered was far less than he thought, we agreed to it and jumped in. Then we hit Manila’s long weekend exodus (at lunchtime I might add) and the driver hinted it would likely take two hours to get to the other mall. He suggested heading back to the Mall of Asia but we agreed on a compromise – heading back to our hotel. That actually took an hour – and it was less than 20 kilometres. He was chatty and told us about his six kids – he wanted to know why we didn’t have any. While we often get asked in Australia by people who know us, it was odd to be asked by a stranger. Usually when we say it’s because it lets us travel and do what we want, we are greeted with an understanding nod by stressed out parents who, except for the fact they dearly love their children, envy us just a little. Here, not having children is just viewed as weird. (I’ll Begin Again – Dropkick Murphy – one of their heavier punk rock tracks – it’s only the distinctive vocals that gives this away as a Dropkicks track)

After experiencing the long traffic delays, we decided it was more sensible to look through the malls across the road from the hotel despite the number of signs for ultra-high end labels. Like the Mall of Asia, there was mag and bag on entry here and it was partly open air but that was where the similarities ended. Greenbelt is a very modern mall complex – a series of towers nestled within lush gardens. The first three levels are mall and above that I think a mix of office and residential space. The outdoor areas were mainly restaurants and bars with the odd little store, including a sneaker store that I intend to revisit, tucked away.

The first mall we walked into as we crossed the road, Greenbelt 5, didn’t contain much of interest – Top Shop but that was about it. Across the garden however was more interesting with a toys and hobbies store (mostly Gundam kits apparently), a Marks and Spencer and several hundred other well known brands (Banana Republic, Mango, Juicy Couture). M&S was a bit cheaper than the UK and while by no means bargain basement, it was in my range of affordable (and stocked sizes above 12) unlike stores like Louis Vuitton. We found that part of the mall too – with a Harry Winston store at the front (maybe one day) and all the high end labels you would expect, including the real Louis Vuitton. I found a few things I vowed to look at on return from our island escape where only a limited amount of luggage was available. On the top floor we spied an outlet of the Toast chain of stores from Singapore but sadly I didn’t see runny eggs and Kaya Toast on the menu – maybe at breakfast only

Almost at the end of our mall capacity for the day, we noticed a walkway across the street at the other end of the mall and decided to investigate. This lead to a department store which appeared to trade in cheaper apparel and knock offs – kind of like Big W or Target but with a much higher ratio of bling. Given most of the dresses looked like they would struggle to fit a teenager, we decided to cut a path through to the other side. There we were greeted with more security checking and a gateway into another massive mall – Glorietta. Like Greenbelt, there were apparently 4 or 5 Gloriettas although these ones were all indoor and all connected atrium. It would be like describing Belconnen Mall as two separate malls that joined at the atrium where the cylindrical elevator is. The mall looked older about the late 80s vintage of the Mall of Asia. It had many of the same kinds of stores too. We wandered in and took in the 3 or 4 levels (with a split level arrangement between the two sides for some reason. And then I spotted it – the hobby shop. Apparently it had been the one Dan had been looking for. Of course I was totally prepared for what came next – give me half an hour he said. So I wandered off around the mall, principally to see what shops I could find that stocked things in my size that I would wear. As with many of my jaunts overseas my principal targets were interesting accessories, shoes and tacky souvenirs. After a bit of a wander, I found myself in the food area in front of the curiously named The Home That Fried Chicken Built. Then I spied the first store map I had seen (these were quite plentiful in the Greenbelt Malls). I was looking for the store that was feeding my recent shoe obsession – the humble Clark’s producers of school shoes for a generation of Australian children but sadly lacking from the fashion shoe landscape in Australia. And yes they had it! Given the need to divide the mall into a series of malls, it made for confusing directions – down the escalator and over to Glorietta 3 Then a new map opens up and disappears quickly from the screen. I memorised a couple of the shops nearby but despite some frantic searching and several laps of the area where I thought it was, couldn’t locate it. By this time, we had really had enough of the mall and headed back to the hotel for some rest in the aircon. The malls were air-conditioned but not as well as our hotel room and you got the impression that the better air-conditioning was in the individual stores. (Swingin’ Nut – The Porkers – The band that introduced me to ska-punk Australian style, this is their contribution to the reimagining of swing)

We decided it would be nice to take a refreshing dip so headed down to the hotel’s pool deck. Dan was hoping to have a beer but the pool bar was closed for renovations. He has long been pining for another swim up bar experience but alas here it was not to be. They did however, provide free bottles of water and sun lounges and a roped off lane for swimming laps. I wasn’t up for it after hours trawling the malls but did put it in the memory bank for later. The water was so warm it was only marginally refreshing and mildly cooler than the still humid air out of the pool. It was however quite relaxing just floating there and enjoying the peace and washing the city away.

We had arranged with my sister to meet for dinner and headed down to meet her, her cousin Kookie and Kookie’s son Myko. We walked across to Greenbelt to meet Tess and her sister Nene who had were waiting for us at the restaurant, which Dan was hoping to be Filipino but which turned out to be Thai. No Mussaman on the menu but we did find a few other familiar curries and Thai dishes. As the Philippines is essentially an archipelago made up of a great number of islands, seafood features prominently on most menus here but there was still enough for Dan, who has a very limited palette for seafood, including the additional satay chicken sticks he ordered. Dinner was served the traditional Filipino way on banana leaves but there was traditional (western-style) Thai cutlery – a fork and spoon (Filipinos traditionally eat with their hands scooping up meats and vegetables with handfuls of rice. It is a curious thing when you visit Asian countries how surprised the locals are that as an Australian you eat rice. Granted I didn’t eat steamed rice at all as a child or teenager growing up in the 70s and 80s but westernised Chinese restaurants and fried rice have been such a staple of Australian diets that they featured in the 70s version of the Women’s Weekly Cookbook. I developed a taste for steamed rice in my poverty stricken uni days – you could get a bowl of rice with sauce for about a dollar. And for years on weeks where the money had run out before pay day my go to meal was rice mixed with fountain brand satay sauce. These days it’s a choice rather than a necessity – we live near an extensive Asian dining strip, have a rice cooker at home and probably eat at least two Asian style meals every week. Maybe more in summer. The banana Leaf Thai was heartily enjoyed and the company was great. Tess and Nene refused to accept our contribution to dinner, telling us that Filipino hospitality means that your hosts pay for the meal. Cass, Dan and I tried to use the argument that we were Australian and in Australia we pay our share – we weren’t really successful in any way. (Brother Keith on Destructor – Gerling – Even I agree that the move from backpack wearing teenage punkers to live electronica and hip hop was a master stroke for Gerling. It’s all about the beat in the end)

After dinner Cass, Dan and I headed for the bar strip across the road and chose a relatively quiet bar without Filipino pop music being played. I love lots of things about Asian culture – the food, the people, the hospitality but apart from the Japanese punk scene, the music isn’t at the centre of its charms for me. Cocktails here are almost as cheap as beer so Cass and I availed ourselves of the cocktail menu – sure I could definitely get a better margarita in Australia but the thing I noticed most about mine was the very subtle level of alcohol. The size of the nips was a bit less than we are used to and there was definitely more (lemon) juice and ice in the mix than I am used to. The Pina Colada was the same so Cass sensibly had a glass of sangria as her second drink. I couldn’t resist the cheap Pina Colada, despite its lower alcohol content. Dan of course tackled the beer list. After a relaxed chat, we headed back to the hotel to snooze.

Smooth sailing all the way to Manila

By far the least prepared for an overseas holiday I have ever been, we bundled into the taxi at 6am for the short drive to Canberra airport to start our Filipino adventure. Yes, I didn’t start packing until after work the night before but I am still yet to equal the feat of a former housemate who was still suffering so much from a big night, that a bunch of friends packed his bags for a two month jaunt to South America.

The best thing about flying with Qantas from Canberra is that the international check-in (essentially a bag drop without the Qbagtag) takes about 10 minutes. The place is so automated and there are so few international departures from here that you usually don’t even have to queue. From here it was what has become an overseas flight tradition – the Qantas Club – albeit usually with a glass of sparkling – not really the done thing (or available) at 7am on a weekday, surrounded by the business day-trippers – carryon in hand.

Qantas had left only an hour’s gap between our flights which concerned me a little, especially since our flight was on the tail end of Canberra’s fog season which results in long departure delays. As it happens, our flight landed in Sydney early which was a good thing as it took the best part of the hour we had to get to the International terminal and make our way through the very busy Border Force area. We went through outgoing smartgates for the first time, which was a slower process than the people operated gates. No time for the Qantas Club here – when we got to the gate we had only enough time for a toilet stop before boarding.

Nine hours on a plane is a lot less daunting than 14 and the Qantas in-flight service, particularly the catering has improved in recent years. Plane food is never gourmet because of the way they have to prepare it but my chicken with roast vegetables was good and the Weiss bar is a nice Aussie touch that no one can complain about. Dan was happy he got to enjoy the mini hot dogs (which we both missed on the Dubai flight while we were trying to sleep.)

We were dreading the three hour layover in Hong Kong (with no lounge access) but it passed quite quickly. We called my sister on arrival but she was just about to get on her flight to Manila. Like most of the busy airports in the world, Hong Kong airport has realised it can charge premium rates from a captive audience. While the rates in the McDonalds and some similar fast food places were a bit lower, we chose to blow the Hong Kong dollars I had stashed on my travel card from my China trip and have a sit down dinner which was a great decision. The Yum cha service had just stopped but we chose char sui pork, green beans with some kind of mince topping, rice a big pot of green tea and sat there happily enjoying our dinner in comfort after we worked out that if you didn’t order when you first sat down, you basically had to grab someone. (Pinned Down – The Creatures – deconstructed post-punk from Miss Siouxsie Sioux and co. I saw these guys in Brisbane about 15 years ago and they were mesmerising.)

We had somehow managed to get two window seats, with me behind Dan, for our final flight to Manila. The guy sitting beside me graciously offered to swap which gave him a single seat in the exit row. The two hour hop on Cathay Pacific was a breeze although the food – kind of burrito mix in a latticed pastry was pretty ordinary.

Customs and immigration was a lot less laborious than I was expecting in Manila. There wasn’t much of a queue at immigration and Customs was similar to the way it operates in Europe – based on an honour system where you walk through the nothing to declare lane. Bag collection was fairly swift too. We were met by my sister and stepmum at the customs entrance – the first time I have experienced that abroad. It actually made for a much more relaxed arrival – no looking for the taxi queue or trying to work out how to get in a regular metered taxi rather than end up in a garage somewhere with some shady character and his jalopy. The uncle of my brother’s bride-to-be had graciously waited hours to take Dan and I (and my sister, Cass, who arrived two hours before us) to our hotel. And there was quite the welcoming party with my stepmum, Tess, brother, Dean and his bride to be Shan, all at the airport to meet us. Three things became obvious in that journey. 1. The heat – Manila is hot and sticky (which was of course exacerbated by us coming from the cold of winter). 2 – The traffic – Everybody had told me the traffic was bad in Manila but it is something to behold. Granted I haven’t travelled in Asia and Manila has been described to me many times as a big chaotic South East Asian city which is reflected in its traffic. And then some. It’s combination of slow crawl, maniac speed and a loose relationship with the idea that any of the lines on the road mean anything. Forget not indicating for a lane change. Here, despite the markings on the elevated roadways suggesting 3 or 4, there is only one lane and the question of where in that lane you are at any given time is a matter of how good your ability is to swerve between and around the other traffic. Even at 11am we spent parts of our journey in a traffic jam. 3. The poverty – the gaping divide between those that have and those that don’t is glaringly obvious in Manila. Just a few kilometres from the airport there were people sleeping on the median strip of the freeway. A bit further on we encountered what I can only describe as shanty towns where people are living in dwellings constructed from corrugated iron surrounding muddy lane ways. Yet in complete contrast the area surrounding our hotel in the central business district of Makati, was full of plush hotels and upscale malls. There were security guards in front of every ATM, boom gates with mirror checks of cars at the entrance to any hotel and mag wanding and bag checks before entering the hotel. Did I feel guilty? Yes. Did this change where I stayed? No. I told myself that I would make sure that I asked for receipts so the taxes on what I spend are guaranteed to end up in the local economy but I’m not sure there are enough checks and balances here for that to be the case. We resigned ourselves to tipping the taxi drivers and service staff we came in contact with. Curiously on our journey to the hotel I didn’t see the most Filipino of all Filipino things – a jeepney (but I probably wasn’t looking hard enough). On arrival at our hotel, New World Makati, we bade our farewells and checked in. we were again talked into the special deal Club package with breakfast and room upgrade. The room was quite impressive with a separate shower (rainfall head) and bath and a Japanese style screen that opens the bathroom up to the bedroom. And fabulous air conditioning to aid a good night’s sleep. (Atlantic Romantic – The Models – distinctly 80s but the Melbournians still stand up)