I’m a British traveller who ended up working in Hong Kong back in ’93-’94, in the days before the Chinese took over. How did I get there? Well that’s another story but after 10 hectic months of working in bars and restaurants I was definately ready to do some travelling again. An English family I knew had been to the Philippines to do scuba diving and had recommended a dive center. I planned to take the PADI course then spend a month backpacking the country.
The day finally arrived when I was due to leave. My flight left Hong Kong at about 8:00pm and I took Gulf Air for the hour and a half trip to Manila. As usual they were very impressive, giving us the full dinner and free drinks in that short time frame.
Arriving in Manila I went to the airport reception desk and browsed through a book of hotels. Price was my main concern being that I was only going spend a single night there. I picked a place called ‘Pension Natividad.’ I’m not religious but the Natividad part made me wonder what was up. Anyway the desk guy told me it should take about 300 peso to get from the airport to Ermita, where the hotel was.
I went outside to be immediately greeted by eager looking cab drivers. I asked one if he could take me to Ermita for 300 peso. “Sure, sure” was his reply. He had an older fellow with him in the front seat and when we got to the main road the older fellow pulled out a little book with all the places in Manila typed in. He pointed to the page saying Ermita and pointed to the $25 in large letters. “You said 300 peso” I protested. “You look, the book say $25,” he replied. “No friggin’ way am I handing over $25 bucks to you.” I said forcefully. “You want me to drop you here?” said the driver, slowing to a 5 mile per hour crawl and pointing to the slums on the airport perimeter. “That’s fine with me,” I said fiercely, “I’ll get out and walk and you won’t make a cent.” He shook his head and said “Okay, okay.”
He drove me back to the airport and transferred me to an older taxi driven by a old guy who reminded me of Pat Morita. I chatted with Pat all the way to the hotel and he gave me some friendly advice about taking care and where to avoid. I gave him 400 pesos. Outside the hotel were a group of girls all dressed in a seductive fashion. “Wow, check them out!” I exclaimed. “They not girls, they ladyboys, they men that look like girls.” said Pat. Cripes! My mother warned me about foreign women. Thanks Mum.
Inside the friendly staff welcomed me to my spartan room. This was indeed a place with a religious streak, but they did serve beer, and I gladly downed a couple of cold ones before heading to bed.
Next morning I woke up and ordered some eggs and rice. The temperature was already getting into the 70′s at 9:00am. I departed the hotel about 11:00am and went out onto Roxas Blvd, the main street in Manila. I was looking for the main bus station to get up north. I wanted to see Mt.Pinatubo and Baguio in the mountains.
Marching down the street with hiking boots, backpack with a pair of bright yellow fins sticking out the side, I must of looked like a new stack of Andrew Jackson’s ($20 bills). It wasn’t 5 minutes before a fellow in his forties made contact with me. He was walking along with a young girl, aged about 10. “Hello, on vacation?” he said smiling. “Yes,” I replied, “and I’m looking for the bus station to get up north.” “This is my niece, I’ve just taken her to the zoo. We live near to the station, would you like to share a jeepney with us?” We flagged down a jeepney and off we went. It was exhilarating to be in the back of one of these freestyling vehicles with a group of locals flying though busy Manila.
Arriving at the bus station they said the bus was leaving in about 3 hours. My new acquaintance said he lived up north and was returning that afternoon. If I could give him a few bucks for gas we could ride together in his jeep. This was an adventure that was quickly taking shape.
We flagged down a cab and shot off to his apartment. After about 10 minutes we arrived in a neighbourhood that was definately low-end. Out in the street was his jeep just like he said and down the entrance way to the small apartments were locals washing pots and pans outside. When I came strolling through about 4 of them did a double-take. Definately not too many foreigners pass through this area and I got the feeling I had ‘DINNER’ stamped on my forehead. He showed me into his little apartment with grey concrete walls and open sewer outside. I wonder how much one of these rents for, probably about the price of the fins I bought back in Hong Kong.
We sat down and he told me to relax and make myself at home. We would be off in a couple of hours when the little girl’s mother got back. I was sizing up the possibilities of this situation when the girl came in with 2 large beers. Now I had read stories in Lonely Planet about dumb foreigners getting drugged and robbed by friendly locals. Was I about to be set up? Was this guy just a super nice person? Whatever the reality, I had to be vigilant. I checked the beer glasses, they were clean. I made sure the bottles were unopened and had nothing suspicious about them and made sure he didn’t do the old ‘hey look over there’ – switcheroo deal.
We both downed our beers pretty fast (these were the big bottles) and new ones appeared. We made small talk about the Philippines and its history, its language and its geography. Where was this girl’s mother and when would she get here? Suddenly, from behind the screen door the little girl appeared with 2 bowls of noodle soup. ‘That’s it!’ I said to myself, ‘it’s in the soup.’ Why would they give me hot soup when the temperature was 90 degrees? Whatever I do I must not eat the soup.
He of course started gulping his down and encouraged me to do the same. I politely sipped a tiny amount from my spoon and returned to my beer. Again he prodded me to taste the soup, and again I said I was satisfied with beer and the soup was good. I went to the bathroom eager for a brief respite from the mental struggle I felt I was under. Was this really happening? How could I be so stupid to end up in this slum on my first day in the country. I began to feel light headed. I was a little dizzy and was perspiring freely. Was the stuff in the soup that strong that just a sip could affect me. Or was it all the beer?
Either way I was out of my element. I sat down and said to myself, ‘Let’s do an experiment. The harder he insists I drink the soup, the more certain I can be that there’s something amiss.’ Sure enough, he bent over backwards to get that soup down my throat. I resisted. Clearly frustrated by my lack of co-operation he said, ‘In the Philippines it’s a tradition to offer guests soup, watch.’ He picked up my bowl and shovelled a glob of the noodles into his mouth.
Strange, I thought. Now I’m really confused. Maybe there’s actually nothing wrong with the soup and I’m just making an ass of myself or maybe he’s got the antidote. I was buzzed and out of answers. I asked him when we were leaving and he said anytime soon when the girl’s mother got back. It had been a couple of hours already and I didn’t get the feeling we we’re going anywhere soon.
I mumbled something about having to be somewhere by a certain time, thanked him and before I could meet any resistance grabbed my backpack and headed out onto the street. I flagged down a cab and headed to the bus station. The bus for the north was leaving in an hour, so I bought a ticket and got comfortable.
I still don’t know if there was something fishy going on in that guy’s place, but I did sleep soundly for over 4 hours on the bus.
I did get certified by PADI and got the R&R I deserved. I didn’t manage to travel the country very much though. That’s the problem with landing in a comfortable spot straight away.
When I travel I do meet the locals and love to visit their homes and share in cultural exchange. This was one of the weirder moments!
