Back to Manila

Wednesday, May 25th, 2011 in: News, Travel

Sharon and I woke up my last morning in Palawan to drop off the motorbikes we rented the day before. When I first suggested it, she was scared to ride one herself, but once I bullied her into getting her own motorbike, she enjoyed it immensely and took hers out for a morning spin before I’d even begun to stir. Sharon is one of the only couchsurfing hosts on the whole island, and is probably one of the best examples of what a good couchsurfing friend is like; rather than feel burdened by the obligation to show people around, she revels in it. Meeting new travelers and becoming a part of their story is how she thrives, joining and adding spice to our adventure. By the time I’d finished packing, she already had responded to three new surfer requests; by nightfall, a new visitor would arrive, and a new adventure would begin. I’m glad to have her as a friend and I’m looking forward to more adventures in the future!

The flight home was eerily uneventful; in less than an hour, simplicity of Palawan was replaced by the cacophony of Manila. I had checked Facebook before I left and saw a post from Joowon, a friend I met in Korea, saying that she was in Manila. I didn’t anticipate extending my visa for so long, so I’d completely forgotten that she had plans to come to the Philippines to get certified as a rescue diver. She arrived in Manila a couple days before I left Puerto Princesa, and would be flying to Coron in northern Palawan for her diving course the same day I leave for Thailand. Hello, serendipity! Just the same, Janet and Joemar had both lost their phones, making it nearly impossible to get ahold of them, so I was doubly thankful to see a familiar face in town.

I caught a cab to meet Joowon at her guesthouse, a dingy but popular hostel in Malate, a seedy neighborhood in the heart of Manila. I could tell I was getting close when the signs in Korean started outnumbering those in English. Not far from the baywalk and just south of Intramuros, Malate is where most backpackers end up when they come through Manila, and at some point, everyone seems to stay at Friendly’s, for some reason. The building felt like a condemned hotel, and the room Joowon had rented was just a shade larger than the queen-sized bed at the foot of the half-opened window, a necessity to keep the stale air circulating, but which also seemed to amplify every sound outside from the dirty street to the open rooftop lounge. Up on the roof, I ran into a handful of travelers I had seen at various points on my journey through northern Luzon. I guess if you want to feel the grime of the city and get familiar with the local backpacker and cockroach population, you’ll get your <$10 worth here.

Joowon had met up with a fellow Korean traveler named Sangyup, a young guy on his way to Australia for a working holiday. We walked around Intramuros and Chinatown, taking in the fusion street food before walking all the way back down the baywalk to Malate. We stopped at the Hobbit Bar, a theme pub staffed by little people. The live music there is supposed to be good, but we couldn’t afford their ridiculously overpriced beer past the first pint, and made our way back to friendly’s, trading ambiance for cheap alcohol. Later, we went out and had a surprisingly good Chinese dinner at a restaurant absolutely surrounded by cabaret clubs, funneling middle-aged Korean tourists into their bosoms. We could see the hostel from the restaurant, a testament to the quality of the neighborhood.

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