Of course, there was last minute drama at the very start of our journeyđŽ.
All was going really well until we were at the boarding gate in Dublin for our flight to Istanbul – the first leg of our Turkish Airlines flight to Manila. The steward asked me what was our final destination and when I said ‘Manila’, he wanted to see my Covid vaccination cert and my e-travel document. I had the vaccination cert but I didn’t have the e-travel, didn’t even know I needed one. Meanwhile, Caoimhin who was in a different queue was allowed through with just the vaccination cert but he was hauled back when they discovered that we were together. We were told that we couldn’t board without the e-travel!
The e-travel document is an online form that needed to be filled in, submitted to Philippine health immigration who then generated a QR code. It’s not difficult but it’s long, cumbersome and VERY stressful when under pressure. There were lots of questions about dates of vaccines and type of vaccine. The airport staff advised making up dates if we werenât sureâŚ.just donât leave anything blank. The relief of getting on the plane, even if we were the last people to board. Phewđ.
Nobody asked to see the e-travel when we boarded the second leg _ an eleven hour flight from Istanbul to Manila but we needed it on arrival in Manilla but there staff were on hand to help you fill it in if you didnât have it.
The warm feel of the tropics wrapped around us when we stepped outside the airport with noise, cajoling taxi-drivers, darkness, humidity and heat (about 27C at 8pm). The taxi driver who brought us to our hotel kept touching the crucifix dangling from a rosary beads draped over his rear view mirror. Not very reassuring….when the traffic was appalling, horns blaring, motorbikes dodging through the cars, buses and jeepneys (a type of long open jeep). Our hotel – Manila Prince Hotel – was large, comfortable and bland until we had breakfast which was included in the price of âŹ35 a night.. This was a buffet style feast that made the Irish fry-up look like a snack. There was fried fish and fried fish heads, mounds of noodles, fried rice, steamed rice and congee (a type of rice porridge), vats of pulled pork, teeny grey sausages, omelettes or scrambled eggs, chips, green salad and lots of sauces. There were also lots of different breads, juices and pastries and to cater for all tastes, cornflakes and something that looked vaguely like coco-pops. Most people piled high a couple of plates and tucked in. The morning feeding frenzy was appreciated all the more as there was a lack of nice restaurants around the area we were staying unless you were a fan of fast food and fried chicken.
Manilla is ENORMOUS and is really made up of a conglomerate of several cities with no real centre. It is officially the most crowded city on the planet since 2022 and as the birth-rate is alarmingly high, it is likely to get even more squashed. Our hotel was in an area of universities and museums with wide leafy boulevards where the tree roots were destroying the footpaths like some huge underground spiders on a mission. There was obvious wealth â shopping malls with designer labels, big shiny cars and high rise buildings but there were whole families sleeping on the street on layers of cardboard, one family with a little mosquito coil burning beside them. There were children begging and the stench of human waste was nauseating. People searched with bare hands through mounds of rubbish that was strewn all over the place. Between the wide boulevards were narrow lanes of shanty-style houses where those lucky enough to have a house lived. Rows of potted plants provided shade and a modicum of privacy outside some houses but really, privacy was a foreign concept in this crowded metropolis. We couldn’t understand why there were so many roosters tied to posts (while the hens wandered freely) until we discovered that cock-fighting is very popular. But still children laughed and made sandcastles from the mud in the gutters.
 Jetlag hit us surprisingly hard and in different ways. I couldnât seem to wake up and Caoimhin couldnât sleep for more than a few minutes at a time. The Philippines is eight hours ahead of Ireland and apparently the body finds it more difficult to adjust forward rather than backward. So we walked around, dazed as if plodding through soup. We visited Intramuros, the historic walled area within the city, built in Spanish colonial times for defence in the sixteenth century. The walls still stand but most of the buildings were destroyed in the last days of WW11. One of the only buildings to survive was the church of San Augustin which was busy when we visited with a baptism going on, followed by a wedding.  The aisle was adorned with masses of fake white flowers, flickering candles and sheets of gold were laid on the floor leading all the way to the altar. The poor bride, when she arrived, looked a little overwhelmed by the lavishness of it all.  It may even have bankrupted the family who did not have the look of extreme wealth. Meanwhile we watched a fat rat run around in the side altar under a statue. But a wedding in San Augustan Church is prized as a symbol of steadfastness and endurance.
That church could also be a symbol of the endurance of the Philippine nation. They had just got rid of the Spaniards after three hundred years when they were occupied by the Americans in 1898 (mainly as part of the settlement terms of a dispute over sugar in Cuba between Spain and USA).  They eventually asserted their independence in 1935…..just in time for WW11 where they became a pawn between the Japanese and the Americans. Then along came the Marcus dynasty with corruption and scandal followed by more corruption and exploitation. Forgive the simplified history lesson   And then, there is the long list of natural disasters – volcanic eruptions, earthquakes and the risk of cyclones for six months every year.  Itâs an understatement to say that the gods have not smiled on the Philippines but that doesnât stop its people from smiling and having a mostly sunny disposition.
On Sunday morning, we checked out of our hotel at 6.30am (after breakfast, of course) and with a chorus of âGood Morning, maâamâ, Good morning, sirâ ringing in our ears from the many staff.  We stepped outside and were surprised by  rain â soft warm drops falling on drenched pavements. The traffic to the airport was heavy â no lazy Sunday mornings for the residents of Manila. We have a âplanâ, sort of, fly south and island-hop back to Manila by boat. We decided to go to Dumaguete where we can get a ferry onwards to the island of Siquijor. We investigated getting a ferry to Dumaguete from Manila but it only ran once a week and took thirty two hours. We didnât relish spending more time in Manila â we were glad we visited but we were eager to leave.
Dumaguete is a pleasant university town on the island of Negros, much less frantic than Manila (where isnât?) with a nice waterfront where we stayed in a hostel (âŹ14 for the two of us) but our room was like an oven with a fan swirling hot air. We also enjoyed a lovely lunch in a Japanese restaurant -the Filipinos don’t hold any grudges against the Japs. The electricity flickered and faltered all evening at a waterside bar, much to the annoyance of the musicians whose speaker volume went from deafening to silent which suited us better đ Tomorrow, we get the ferry to Siquijor Island, recognised as a centre of mystic power. We are not sure what that means but we hope to find out. It is also reputed to have more tangible assets like white-sand beaches and good snorkelling.
Until next timeâŚ.thanks for reading
marienoonanblog 