Manila

Manila is a pretty unlovable place – a sprawling, noisy, smelly Asian metropolis, marred by extreme poverty and vice. Our hotel, in the Malate district, was conveniently placed across the road from a slum, and had about 100 people sleeping rough on the pavement outside. Despite this, it didn't feel unsafe, and was only a short walk from some okay bars and restaurants.















The plan for day one was to sort out the bus to Banaue, then do some light sightseeing. We made it as far as the air-conditioned mall. My efforts to find new cultural experiences after four mouths of travel came to nought, as I bought a tee-shirt from Topman, and a pair of trousers from Gap.

Having failed to find any of the LP recommended clubs (mainly because LP can never be arsed to update their books), we stumbled into Bar Rocks, and were greeted with a Filipino 4-piece blasting out cover versions – probably the best entertainment in town, if you're not trying to find an 18 year old 'girlfriend'.















Manila does lack any real tourist sights. The nearest it has is the old Spanish walled city, Intramuros, although this was largely destroyed by US bombing during the retaking of the Philippines. What's there, other than the walls, is the slightly dull Fort Santiago, a post-war reconstruction of Manila Cathedral, San Agustin Church (the oldest in the Philippines and survivor of the bombing) and a museum depicting a Spanish colonial mansion (commissioned by Imelda Marcos). Being a tourist area, showing any sign of wanting a cab results in kids running headlong into the road to pull one over. They are then impossible to shake without actually leaping into a taxi.

By the time our overnight bus to Banaue left at 10pm, I was glad to be getting out. Although we do have to come through twice more.