Escaping the city

My last Saturday in Manila was the perfect opportunity to get OUT of the city and see some of the countryside. My willing tour guide for the day was the Manila team leader, a girl with whom I’ve become rather close during my time here. We’ve bonded over our Starbucks addictions caused by early morning shifts, and I was excited to spend a day hanging out with her.

We got on the road around 9am and headed south. Traffic was, as it usually is in Manila, congested. But once we got outside the limits of Metro Manila, the road opened up, as did the scenery. The farmland, rice fields and small villages are a relief to look at after the concrete jungle of the city. It was about 2 hours before we reached our destination. Along the way we saw squatter villages – little shantytowns by the side of the road populated with half-dressed, dirty adults and children selling whatever they can in an attempt to make some cash. We saw the pineapple fields laid out across rolling hills, and the pinapple stalls selling not only the fruit, but the juices, liquers, and wooden knickknacks from the pineapple plants. We also saw store after store of freshly constructed wooden furniture, made in the local region from natural timbers. This stuff is what you’d see in our boutique furniture dealers in Sydney, stamped with a fancy brand name and sold for a premium price. The air smelled like freshly cut wood.

Tagaytay

Our destination was Tagaytay – a popular vacation spot for Filipinos. Tagaytay is situated on the ridge of an ancient, inactive volcano and looks down into Lake Taal, which contains the Taal Volcano. A volcano within a volcano – a site I’d read about and was looking forward to visiting. We turned left when we hit town and headed towards the less-populated areas. We visited the People’s Park, which offers an amazing view of the valley, lake and volcano itself. When we first arrived, thick fog clouded our view. But as we walked around the jungle trails in the park, the clouds gradually rolled away to reveal the volcano out in the lake, like a mystical island.


As usual, we were followed by hordes of people wanting to sell us everything from zipline rides to boat rides out to the volcano. All the prices were hiked up to cater to the many tourists visiting the area, so we didn’t bother, and stuck to walking around the area instead.

We also drove along the ridge until we couldn’t drive any further. There were some great views out either side – the lake and volcano to our right, and the open valley full of farm land to our left.


Lunch was a rather late affair, at a restaurant called Lesley’s, which looked out across the lake and volcano. We tried bulalo, a beef soup made from a giant beef bone;, pinakbet, eggplant, bitter melon and okra sautéed in pork fat and shrimp paste; and finally seafood bicol express, sliced chillies and random seafood in coconut milk. NOM.

It was a pretty relaxing day compared to my previous adventure, but it was nice to kick back, relax and chat for a day to recover from what had been a pretty shitty week

An urban adventure

Tired of the endless shopping trips and sitting by the pool, I decided to take things into my own hands. I woke up early on a Saturday morning and headed out for an urban adventure in metro Manila. Not content to take the easy road and get a cab into the city, I managed to get some fairly good directions from the hotel staff about taking trains. So armed with my camera and Lonely Planet guide, I figured I was set.

Manila has several different train lines that run through the various parts of the city. The MRT line runs through Makati, and the station is only a short walk from my hotel. I managed to navigate my way through the station, work out where I had to travel to and how much my ticket would cost. Being Saturday, I figured the trains wouldn’t be so busy. That was true for the outward trip (more on that later). I hopped on a train with relative ease, and travelled several stops to the LRT line in Pasig City, which runs generally north-south through the parts of the city I wanted to visit. My aim was to hit Luneta – a large public park in the centre of the city – and Intramuros – the old Spanish walled city, then anywhere else I encountered along the way.

As per my scrap of paper with its scribbled instructions, I jumped off the train at United Nations station. Upon exiting, I immediately encountered a throng of stallholders calling out to passers-by, selling everything from toasted nuts to cleaning products. A white face is an immediate cue to begin calling out louder and more enthusiastically, and I felt a little like I had wandered into a sporting match in which I was the star competitor! I crossed the road quickly and ducked into a Wendys to consult my Lonely Planet guide (I may be a tourist, but I’m not dumb enough to look lost out on the street). Luneta was only a short walk away, so I headed back out on the streets. The route I took was relatively deserted, apart from some gangs of small kids running around shoeless, and holding up their hands for spare change. Not wanting to gain a band of eager followers, I politely declined and continued on my way.

Luneta

The vast open space and leafy green of Luneta was a breath of fresh air after navigating through the rabbit warren of little, dirty, rubbish-lined streets that surround the park. Luneta is a wide avenue of green that runs in an east-west direction from the centre of the city out to a grandstand at Manila Bay. I entered at one end and strolled through. My white skin, as usual, made me the receiver of many curious stares. I should mention that one thing I’ve noticed here, is the complete lack of tact from the starers. At home, when you catch someone staring at you, a look is enough for the starer to break their gaze and look off into space again. Not so in Manila. You can be looking directly at the person, and they will continue to stare, looking you up and down until you wonder what the hell they’re finding so interesting!

As I wandered through the park, I came across a giant statue of the Filipino national hero Jose Rizal. Rizal was part of the resistance against Spanish rule in the Philippines, and wrote a great many poems and essays advocating. He was eventually captured by the Spanish and executed for sedition. When the Spanish were finally overthrown by the efforts of the army led by Andres Bonifacio and Emilio Aguinaldo, both these men and Rizal were revered for their contribution to the nation. The Filipinos actually have a public holiday in August each year in which they remember national heroes. As you can imagine, these guys are right up there.


Further into the park, I came across a huge man-made pool bordered on two sides by coloured flags, and giant busts of previous leaders of the nation. Off to the sides of the pool were groves of trees dotted with chess tables. Locals rested in the shade, chilling out and playing games of chess over a drink or two. There were a few specialty gardens – a Japanese garden and a butterfly house – but I didn’t make it in once I saw the entry fee! I did manage to sneak into the old abandoned Orchidarium when the guard stepped away from his post. It was like creeping into another world – huge trees hung over the pathways, their roots and branches weaving a moving ceiling overhead. Dirty old statues and an abandoned stone courtyard told of a previous time when people would visit and spend time viewing the garden. Vines grew over the garden walls and buildings, adding beauty to the abandoned structures.


National Museum

From Luneta, I wandered around some back streets heading in what I thought was the general direction of Intramuros. I’d been outside for a couple of hours now, and the midday heat was STRONG. My motion through the streets was more like flowing than walking, I was that drenched in sweat. My saviour was stumbling across the doors of the National Museum! In an attempt to escape the exhausting heat, I paid my entry fee and spent a couple of hours looking at exhibits detailing the history of the Filipino people. Seems that there’s evidence of early man all over the archipelago, and many of the archaeological findings were on display.

Somewhat refreshed, I emerged from the museum and began the trek to Intramuros. I had NO idea where I was going, but figured if I headed in the general direction I’d be able to make it. I traipsed up the main road heading north, choking on the fumes of all the cars, jeepneys and tricycles that crowded the streets. At points the footpath disappeared, and I was forced to wander up the side of the busy road, like the locals do :p I saw the Manila City Hall, and one of the largest transit terminals in Metro Manila – the Park and Ride. I stretched 8 lanes on each side, with underground tunnels leading to the different platforms from which you can take public transport in any direction. I braved the underground tunnel – there was no way I was going to attempt a dash across the busy road!

Intramuros

The word “intramuros” means “within the walls”, and I was soon to discover why. Huge stone walls greeted me at the entrance to the city. When it was first built, Intramuros was the original part of the city –the place where all the wealthy white citizens dwelt (yup, in the 1600s you had to be legally classified as “white” to live there). The walls were built to keep enemies and rabble out. The architecture within is predominantly Spanish. Some of it is equisitely preserved, and you feel like you are wandering down a cobble-stone street somewhere in Europe instead of in South East Asia. Old iron lampposts line the streets, and lanterns dangle from many of the buildings. I walked north towards the topmost end of the city until I reached Manila Cathedral. As I walked, I was constantly hassled by the Calesa (horse and cart) drivers, and pedicab drivers who were absolutely desperate to offer me a “good price” to take me on a tour around the city. I waved them all on and kept walking, until I came across a gathering of Calesa near the cathedral. I figured I had more of a chance of getting a fair deal if the drivers were competing with one another for my attention.


My driver was awesome – he explained a lot of the history of the town, and showed me all of the sights. There are a lot of original buildings in Intramuros, but there are also a lot of ruins. Much of the city was destroyed when the Japanese fought the Americans and Filipinos in the Battle of Manila Bay in WW2. You can see bulletholes in all the walls, and in many places they are completely destroyed. Many of the buildings in the city were converted to prisons by the Spanish and Japanese during their periods of occupation, so there are a lot of barred windows also.


After my Calesa ride, my very friendly driver dropped me at Fort Santiago – the northernmost part of Intramuros along the Pasig River. This is the place where Jose Rizal was imprisoned during his last days before his execution. The site is mostly ruins, but Rizal’s cell is preserved, along with a museum and shrine in his honour. You can also climb the walls and look out on the Pasig River towards the north, tour the old dungeons and walk across the old parade grounds.

North of the River

After a brief rest in a Spanish prison turned Starbucks, I continued on my way north. I crossed the Pasig river and entered into Binondo. Back in the day, this area was a centre of Chinese trade in Manila, so there are a great many Chinese restaurants, herbal stores, and jewellery dealers. There are also a lot of street markets selling food, clothing and other knick knacks. The traffic is uber-congested all through Binondo. Anything larger than a motorcycle or tricycle doesn’t move, and the air is thick with smog and the sounds of beeping horns. It was at this point that the sky started getting dark. Quickly. In a matter of minutes, the heavens opened, and I was left scrambling for cover beneath the sheets of driving rain. I found a Starbucks to shelter in and consult my Lonely Planet guide. By this time it was about 4pm, and would get dark soon. I didn’t want to be stranded in the city on my own after dark, so I decided to head home.

I walked back the way that I came. There was precious little shelter, and I was soon drenched from head to toe. The puddles in places were ankle-deep, so crossing the road was a matter of getting a run-up, taking a flying leap and hoping that I made it! A couple of failed attempts meant my shoes as well as my clothes were rather squelchy. Totally lost and soaked through, I eventually gave up walking and looked for some form of transport. I was saved by the appearance of a tricycle driver around the corner, who was able to take me back to the train. Or so I thought. Our first attempt at crossing the river was a fail. As soon as he turned his vehicle uphill, the engine cut out. He restarted it using a pullcord similar to one might use on a lawnmower and tried again. Another fail, and dodgy brakes meant that we were not only not going forward, but we were also rolling rapidly backwards downhill!! He managed to start the tricycle again, and traversed across to the next bridge which was a little flatter. Something I should mention about tricycles – the sidecar that the passenger sits in has a metal mesh floor. This is nice and airy on a fine day. But on a wet day, larger vehicles cause those ankle deep puddles to flow like waves across the road, all the way over the “floor” of the sidecar and up the passengers legs! I spent most of the ride laughing hysterically as wave after wave of dirty water hit my feet and legs. Here's my soggy wet feet enjoying the ride :p


After only 6 or 7 breakdowns, my tricycle driver delivered me to the train station in one very wet piece. I jumped on a train heading back south towards home. Well...tried to jump. 5pm Manila time is rush hour, and this is very evident when trying to use public transport. There is no moving out of the way to let passengers move on and off the train. Everyone struggles and climbs over each other in an attempt to pack into the already tightly packed carriage. They have a ‘womens carriage’ especially for women travelling alone or with children, so I found my way to that and piled in. Standing over a foot above most people in the train, I felt very sorry for those people who had the misfortune to be standing next to me. Soaking wet, and rather smelly from my day out, and with armpits exactly at nose-height for my fellow travellers!!

The train trip went smoothly, and I made it back on both train lines to the hotel. I was very proud of my achievements – I managed not to get too horribly lost, rode 3 types of public transport without (too much) mishap, and didn’t manage to get robbed or kidnapped. Upon regaling my workmates of my adventure on Monday, I discovered that I’d done just about everything a tourist “shouldn’t” do...but I’d survived and was thoroughly happy to have finally seen something of the city.

My day's route.

The night out

It's never a good idea to go out on a school night. It's even less of a good idea to go out on a school night when you have to get up at 6:30 the next morning.

The exodus from Manila has begun. One of the client reps leaves today, so last night was a bit of a farewell bash for her, and for Crissy's sister who has been visiting for the last week. The plan was to have a few drinks at a bar, then dance up a storm at RnB night at the Intercontinental's club iCon. We kicked things off at the Outback Steakhouse bar, which does enormous jugs of Mojitos and Margaritas. We were the only white girls in the place, amid the throngs of older white males and their RAFs (Rent-A-Friend). Sex tourism is an interesting phenomenon in the Philippines, as in other Asian countries I've visited. Even the largest, most hideous white businessman can get a little Filipina friend to hang off his arm for an evening, and even perform "special services" for the low price of about $50 a night. A quick google search yesterday revealed an entire directory of organisations offering escort services, clubs with dancing girls, and places to hook up discreetly. And the bar last night was packed with RAFs already hooked up, as well as unattached RAFs in the making looking to recruit their next friend.

We enjoyed our cocktails and giggled at the scene around us. We saw a famous Canadian UFC fighter enter the restaurant above, complete with entourage and camera crew. Crissy's sister got rather excited and tried (and failed) to shimmy her way up there to say hi and take a photo. A little drama played out before us, as an intoxicated RAF in the making got a little loud and raucous in the recruitment process and was asked to leave the bar. She and her wingman (woman?) did so with a great stomping of feet and unintelligible yelling. The American boys who had been dealing with her got a drink on the house for their patience. Drama dealt with, until about 10 minutes later when drunk-girl returned and tried to coerce the bouncer into letting her in. A loooooong and amusing negotiation process followed until she finally gave up and stomped off, banging her hands along the windows as she left.

With that done and our drinks empty, we wandered across the road to the Intercontinental. The iCon club is open several nights a week and pulls a pretty big Filipino and white crowd. Thursday nights at iCon are RnB nights. Since the group of people I'm here with seems to only dance to this loathsome stuff, Thursday was the night to go. As we wandered up the entryway to the club, we were blocked by the bouncers who explained that the club was closed for a private function, and only the guests of the Canadian fighter (who was still over the road enjoying his dinner) were allowed to enter. We stood outside and pouted. Looked like the night was over for us. But as we did so, fighter-guy (I'm sure he has a name but I can't remember it) blew past us in a great flashing of cameras. Not to be left out, one of our group quickly fell in line behind the entourage and slipped into the club. She returned a few minutes later, assuring the door staff that "Harry" had given us all permission to enter the venue and join the party. Not sure who "Harry" was, but borrowing his name got us all in!

The club was packed. A huge downstairs dancefloor was full of dancing bodies, and the VIP balcony upstairs was lined with fancy types. We joined the plebs downstairs and danced for a while. I was pleasantly surprised to find that not all the music was Rnb - there was a decent selection of house and electro. The mixing was abysmal - the DJ needed an urgent lesson in beatmatching and song selection. But it was music, and a few jager-bombs later the transitions weren't quite so grating.

Something I should mention - Filipinos REALLY like white people. Especially blondes. This is great for us, because we have two blondies in our group. Its gotten us all kinds of benefits so far, and last night was no different. About half an hour in, the club owner came down and invited one blondie (and us) to join him and his friends on the VIP balcony. We climbed up, and were immediately surrounded by a large group of friendly guys wanting to chat and offer us free drinks, which we took eagerly :p We hung out and danced with them in a big group - first upstairs on the balcony and then down on the dancefloor. It was pretty cool to be adopted by such friendly strangers - even if one did take a particular shine to me and try to convince me to go home with him. According to him, what happens in the Philippines, stays in the Philippines. Unconvinced.

3am rocked around, and I finally decided I was too buggered to bop anymore. 3 and a half hours sleep later, I'm up again for work. I might still be slightly intoxicated. If anyone wants me, I'll be sleeping under my desk.

This is gonna be a long one

Forgive me, I've sinned. Its been over 2 weeks since my last post. The last couple of weeks have been overwhelming, exciting, and exhausting, and I've not managed to muster the brain capacity to write. But I'm ready to have a decent go at recording recent events...

Work

The last week of work was pretty much heads down, bums up to try to power through the material we hadn't been able to cover while systems were down. The 3 days behind on training ballooned into 6 days when IT took until Wednesday (3 days before training ended) to give us a working version of our client's CRM. I think my training group's brains almost exploded with all the information I packed into them in such a short space of time. But they put in a stellar effort, and I began to believe they just might be ready.

The phones were a different story. Firstly, they had to be sent here from Sydney. I don't know why, but that was the way they did it. International mail = customs = stuck. The phones were finally released around Thursday arvo, just in time to try to configure them. FAIL. The software that operated the phones didn't connect, and when it did it was all wrong. After hours and hours of testing we got a workaround solution that would allow the agents to take calls, but they'd have to jump through all kinds of hoops to do so. For one, the application that saves calls so we can report on them was sized incorrectly, and the "save" button was invisible. To fix this, the agents had to end the call, press Ctrl+Alt and the right arrow to flip the screen on its side and make the button visible again. Then save, and flip it back up again. That's a really cool fuckup to make when you have a client onsite overseeing your big day.

The last Friday of training was a graduation ceremony. Yup. They gave out certificates, and even did performances!! The trainees performed a rather amusing rendition of the song "G'day g'day" that they'd learnt in language and culture training, plus their team song, "Lean on Me". Here they are, dancing around the work cafeteria: It was kinda cool that they put so much effort into showing their employees that they're important. The site director said a little speech, and they had a full on awards ceremony with handshaking and photos, and a GIANT CAKE. You'd never see that in Australia. Certainly never at MY company in Australia.

The good news is that, despite all the fuckups and delays, Go Live was a success!! We spent the Saturday arvo beforehand getting the office appropriately decorated. Everyone was ready to go on Monday, And they pretty well killed it. There's still the odd grammatical error that we need to beat out of them, like learning to say "transfer TO" instead of "transfer IN which seems to be their preposition of choice. And there's the one agent that, no matter how much time I spend with her, does not seem to improve. AT ALL. Not sure whether its the english skills, or if she's just really stupid. But comprehension is not a strong point. But I guess there's one in every group. However, I still stand by my statement that these guys are the best group I've ever trained. And now I have proof :)

Shopping
God...shopping here is INTENSE. Because there's city all around, there doesn't seem to be much else to do. I may have explained this before, but the hotel I'm staying at is on top of a giant mall. Think Parramatta Westfield-like proportions. If you walk through to the other side of that mall, there's another mall. And one behind that. Directly opposite my hotel is another mall. Around the corner is one more, and another one behind. And I have a sneaking suspicion that the giant hole in the ground that I can see from my window is going to be yet another one. Then there are the malls, markets and bazaars that you have to get to by cab...

Glorietta 1, 2, 3, 4, 5: Yup. There's five of them. The hotel is on top of number 4. Inside are the brand name stores like Mossimo, Guess, Gap, Marks and Spencer blah blah blah. Similar prices to back home.

Landmark and SM: Two malls, each a giant 4 level department store. When I say giant, I mean a department store the size of Broadway Shopping centre. Bit cheaper than brand names, and the shoe collection is to die for. Well, it would be if I weren't a giant with flippers for feet.

Greenbelt 1, 2, 3...?: I have no idea how many there are. All the fancy expensive stores are there - Hermes, Prada...I've never been inside, but there are some nice bars with good happy hour deals. The whole place is beautifully landscaped, with huge trees and man-made waterfalls creating a foresty kind of feel.

Market-Market: CHEAP place to shop. There's stores with decently priced clothes, and also a fashion market where you can try your luck at haggling with the stallholders. I also managed to get myself a rad haircut for about $12 Aussie dollars. And I'd have to say it was on a par with some of the nicer expensive haircuts I've had at home.

Greenhills: Market central. This is where all your knockoff products lie in wait. Bags, wallets, shoes, clothing, pearls...all packed into a dark cave-like shed. Stallholders call out to you as you wander past, with "yes ma'am" and "you buy". Haggling is a hot and heavy business here - you need to be quick to ask for 'best price', then take half off that again as your asking price, then be prepared to walk away and let the seller chase after you until you get the price you want. I fail at haggling, so I've had to enlist the services of the others to help me. And I've not done too badly. For someone who isn't into brand names I've managed to end up with both a Gucci and Christian Dior bag, and 2 pairs of Converse. And there's still a few weeks of shopping left :p The below is a testament to my rampant shopaholism:Spas

The other popular pasttime here is beauty treatments. Not something I'd ever do at home, Its been a case of "everyone else is doing it, so I might as well". I've had a full body massage (NOM), my first ever pedicure, and a rad haircut. Considering having other things waxed, tweaked, cleaned etc. Who knows, I may come back from Manila acting like a real girl. As rather frightening evidence of this budding girlism, I cite purchases of liquid eyeliner, foundation, exfoliating scrub, and a loofah. All of which I've never owned before *shudder*

Bars and Clubbing

Nights out have been an interesting experience. Rnb and hip hop are the genres of choice in Manila...and its threatening to break my brain. Bars and clubs here range from shanty-style drinking dens, to luxurious dance clubs bursting with beautiful people. I think I've sampled the spectrum.

Our post graduation party drinks were held at a teeny little bar somewhere in the backstreets of Manila. I don't know that "bar" was the correct term...possibly "drinking hole" might be more apt (emphasis on the hole). We had the place to ourselves, drinking $2 cocktails and shots, taking over the sound system and dancing to silly song after silly song on someone's iPod. We also discovered just how much the Filipinos love to take and pose for pictures. My camera was out of my hands and being manned by anyone and everyone within 5 minutes. Every shot had a theme - we posed as models, rockstars, sleeping people, angry monsters...and the poses became more and more bizarre as the alcohol flowed faster,And faster,
And fasterWe all had a lot of rather drunken fun.
This was in deep contrast to the swanky clubs I visited last weekend. In our first stop, Fiama, beautifully manicured girls teetered around on scarily high heels, and slick-looking young guys scoped out their prey and headed in for the kill. Overly friendly club promoters plied us white girls with free drinks and tried to tell us about all the other clubs they worked for and wanted us to visit. I nodded agreement, and enjoyed my complimentary shots :) When beautiful got boring, we headed down the road to Encore, a club that a couple of sleazy Americans had raved to me about late one night. It was worth our while. Picture a huge hall with luxurious velvet draperies, brass railings and shiny mirrors. Picture that same hall, packed with writhing, dancing young bodies drinking hard and having the time of their lives. While the music wasn't really my taste (I loathe rnb with a passion that will never die), I enjoyed the vibe of the place. And when we got selected to leave the throng and enter the coveted VIP area, I enjoyed it even more. It was a decent night.

I'm still more a fan of the pub than the club. Anywhere I can sit down with a beer and laugh myself silly with friends, get my groove on to terrible music on a dirty dancefloor, and wear whatever the hell daggy clothing I want.

On other fronts, I'm starting to feel like I'm drowning in overwhelming estrogen here. Whose good idea was it to send four women overseas together? Especially two who have been working together for two years and still haven't managed to find a decent reason to like each other? I'm so desperate I'm starting to check out the American military guys in the hotel, for the simple reason that I'm dying for some non-female company. I want to go out and do something besides purchasing, primping or pampering. Hell, I'd even like to do something besides drinking.

Time to start doing what I want to do I think. Back to my Lonely Planet I go.

Days 8-10: The silly stuff

I haven't had much to say the past few days except bitching about work, and to be honest its nice to get home at night and NOT have to think about that shit for a few hours! However, I've had some rather interesting and silly experiences since the weekend that are definitely worth sharing...

Gastronomic "Delights"

Up until now, most of my Filipino food experiences have been really delicious...but rather safe. Normal meaty bits of animals, noodly concoctions, rice-cakey sweets (see my Day 5 post for stuff on my Filo birthday feast). And because I'm Asian on the inside, I've loved every juicy bite. But my trainees picked up on my eagernes to immerse myself in Filipino culture, including its weird and wonderful (?) delicacies.

So on Monday, one of my trainees turned up with a steaming tupperware box, filled to the brim with something that smelled of barbecued goodness. I opened up the box, and discovered a bounty of meaty things on skewers. There was a long tube-like thing folded over and over on the skewer until it resembled a concertina. That was barbecued chicken intestines. There were several triangular fatty slivers of meat marinated in the same mix. Pigs ears. And then there were the browned golf ball-sized spheres. Chicken heads. My trainee watched gleefully as I surveyed his gift, wondering what I'd gotten mysef into.

I picked up a chicken intestine and studied it dubiously. Then took a bite. My trainee's grin widened as I chewed carefully. The taste was NOM. The texture though, was like a greasy tyre inner-tube: rubbery and slimy. My stomach churned, but I managed to swallow and even force a smile. I tried to put on a brave face for the pigs ear too. The taste was just as yummy, but the thick layer of gluggy fat surrounding the ear almost caused it to bounce straight back out into the container it came from. My trainee seemed content at that point that I'd tried and liked his culinary efforts, and wandered out of the room. Crissy and I burst into horrified giggles that we'd survived the ordeal and hadn't been forced to sample a chicken head. But then he came back!! Grinning just as widely, he offered to take pictures to record the moment. So I picked up a chicken head, complete with empty eye-sockets and oozy brains, and pretended to take a big hungry bite while he snapped a few shots. The remaining chicken intestines got a couple of happy snaps too. Fortunately, the guy gave up at this point and ambled off again. Saved!! I licked the chicken head and nibbled a bit just to sample it, then gave in to my swirling stomach and stopped eating. I took a couple of the remaining pieces of "meat", wrapped them up in paper and hid them in the bathroom bin so it'd look like we sampled some more!!

Tuesday was balut day. For those who don't know it, balut is a hard boiled fertilised duck egg, complete with foetus inside!! Although the very idea of it creeped me out, I knew that as part of the adventure I had to at least try it. With watching eyes monitoring my every move, I cautiously cracked open the shell to reveal what was lurking inside. I found the yolk first, speared it with my fork, dipped it in vinegar and brought it to my mouth to taste. Not bad. A bit like a hard-boiled egg with what I assumed was a duck-y flavour. Then the white...the bit with the growing baby bird lurking inside. I tried not to look, and pulled out a mouthful-sized portion and placed it in my mouth. It tasted like chicken, which was to be expected as most things do. And then disaster...a tiny baby duck feather worked its way into a gap between my teeth. My usually non-existent gag reflex kicked into gear, and it was all I could do to force the rest of the food down my throat and into my stomach. The photo sequence below tells the story:

The egg comes out. Note the fear in my eyes, badly disguised by the unconvincing smile
Cracking it open nervously
The first bite...yup I'm definitely scared now
OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD
What the fuck was I thinking? Never again...
I've tried the flavours of the Philippines. And now I never have to do it again! I'm definitely made for the meaty parts of the animal rather than the innards and extremities. And as for teensy baby ducks? Things with feathers shouldn't go near my mouth. My adventurous spirit is still alive though. I'm still willing to taste what these guys put in front of me...but I'm pretty well convinced that I'm unlikely to be a fan :p

Videoke

Think of an entire office full of staff crowded into the cafeteria, cheering and clapping and stomping their feet. Think of a giant widescreen TV playing video clips of Asian midgets prancing around in fairy costumes, and lyrics running along the bottom of the screen. Think of a microphone, trembling in the hand of a nervous employee who has entered the office karaoke comp as a competitor for their department.

Yup...that's how I spent my afternoon at work. The Filipinos love their karaoke, and the videoke even more so. We heard some abysmal acts that sounded like cats being strung upside down by their toes. We heard some average acts, tuneless and boring as a plank of wood. But far and away the best act of the afternoon was from OUR department. Gene the ladyboy performs late night acts at a comedy club, and sings and dances on stage when she's not at work. She got up front this afternoon and belted out an amazing rendition of "Alone", complete with perfectly placed high notes, and amazing dance moves. And boy did our team go wild. We banged trays, stomped our feet, yelled at the top of our lungs and drummed on the tables. The whole event was a lot of fun, even if it did remind me of the time I did work experience with the monkeys at taronga zoo.

Speaking of ladyboys, there's been a recent change in the dress code at work with regard to ladyboys. Since Abby's sad departure, ladyboys are no longer required to dress in pants like the other men in the office. HR has made a special exception for them to dress in skirts and dresses too, provided that their dress conforms to the fairly conservative guidelines aready in place for women (no spaghetti straps, no thongs, no boobs threatening to leap out of tops). Seems that the company has decided it wants to uphold its reputation for being a progressive employer that encourages its staff to be themselves at work. And I like that :)

So that's just a portion of the silliness that's happened over the last three days. Work continues to be frustration central, punctuated by brief periods of successful training. I'm getting more and more concerned that my trainees aren't going to be ready to take to the phones in a week and a half. I think they're getting concerned too after getting a taste of systems training today. They're confused, and nervous, and I can't really offer them any honest assurances that training will answer all their questions and provide them with the skills they need to go live. So its heads down, bums up for now, and fingers crossed we make it over the line.

Day 7: Operation Birthday a success

I'm lying in bed, writing an assessment to scare the pants off my trainees tomorrow morning, and musing on the day's happenings. All in all, a thoroughly awesome birthday...

I managed to stay awake to see my birthday in at midnight...then was fast asleep by 12:05. Lesson learnt: extreme heat and too many cocktails on a Friday night is going to limit my ability to stay awake on Saturday night. However it didn't stop me from waking up at 6:30am, hours before I was due to meet Crissy for breakfast. So I moped...boy did I mope. I stalked everyone I know on Facebook and Twitter, looked at photos of my family and friends, wandered in circles around the apartment and watched High School Musical. I hope I shall never be mopey enough to want to put myself through that again, it's a truly hideous movie.

Breakfast finally came around in all its delicious buffety goodness. I am LOVING the mangoes here. They are so soft and sweet and yummy, that I'd like to soak in a vat of them for a several hours. And the Filipino specialties of spicy baked pepper chicken and salty-sweet beef tapa totally made the meal. After breakfast, a nice long chat with home.

I wasn't able to get in touch with Crissy to continue the day's plans, so I decided to wander back into the department store with the thousands of stalker staff. This time, I was a pro. I expertly manouvered my way around the racks, deftly dodging the attendants and their cries of "yes ma'am". I stayed calm, I even made it to a change room with some potential purchases! It was then that it all failed. Here's the thing: in the land of bikini bodies, I am an anomaly. In Asia, even more so. I take an Asian size small (wtf?) in bikini tops, but an Asian size large in bottoms. Either I have a pitifully small chest, or Filipinos have no arses (or I have a giant arse...but I'm not gonna go there). So I slunk out into the street, defeated. Well, defeated for about 10 minutes. The good thing about the Filipino consumerist culture is that next to one giant mall there are 2 or 3 equally giant malls. And after a bit of searching, I was able to find a shop that sold swimwear in separates. Note to self: when I say "I'll pack my swimmers in the morning", that's code for "I'll end up in a really hot country very grumpy because I forgot them"

After the successful shopping expedition I managed to track down Crissy, who'd somehow managed a 2 hour nap. We decided that it was cocktail o'clock, and that we needed to drink in style. Our destination: the Shangri La - by all reports the swankiest hotel in the city. And once we got there, we agreed. The foyer was magnificent, with twin staircases curving upwards and meeting at a mezzanine level. Intricately patterned carpets covering the floor, and a giant golden orb adorning the centre of the room. It was like entering a palace. Even their bomb dog was larger and better looking than ours.
I'd heard they had an awesome pool bar, so we went exploring through the hotel. It was very difficult to be totally lost while maintaining an air of "this is our hotel". We eventually had to ask a very kind member of staff for directions...and were very relieved when she didn't kick us out. The pool bar WAS truly awesome. Much cooler than the little roll-out contraption that carries water and ice back at our hotel. And the drinks were magic...and strong. My mojito easily had 3-4 shots in it...something I realised while trying to navigate back to our hotel some time later, when I nearly walked under a bus.

After one drink, we migrated back to our hotel bar where the drinks were slightly more affordable. More cocktails were drunkon the outdoor terrace, and happy birthdays were 'cheersed'. An extremely nommy Chinese dinner followed.

After dinner I returned to my room, and discovered an intruder...
A cake had entered while I was out and hidden itself in my fridge!! And in true Filipino style, even the message on top was perfectly polite :p

So yes, a very successful birthday. It went so well, that I think I'll have another next year.

Days 5 and 6: I've survived the first week

It doesn't get much more exciting than breaking in a birthday all alone in a hotel room, naked, eating chocolate icecream and watching back-to-back episodes of glee. At least, that's what I'll be doing if I can actually stay awake until midnight. I've had my fair share of pretty terrible birthdays, and I can safely say that this isn't anywhere near as bad. However, it would be nice to be out in Sydney with my friends right now, making a fool of myself on a dancefloor somewhere.

Thinking about the date does spark the realisation that I've survived my first week here in Manila! I'm surprised that I've made it through without flipping out after all the disasters and setbacks. But enough about those for now...I've got more important things to blog about.

Throughout the week, on several occasions, I glanced towards the back of the training room and saw Crissy whispering to the Manila trainer and team leader. They saw me looking, and quickly stopped. I didn't think too much of it the first time, but after about the third time I started to get a little paranoid. I tried to focus on the task at hand and put my worries out of my mind. I managed to convince myself that no, they weren't whispering about me, why would they? Turns out they were, and I was to find out why on Friday.

After getting off a rather stressful conference call at lunchtime, in which I discovered that we wouldn't have systems access until next Wednesday at the earliest (yup...details to come on that one), I wandered into the cafeteria to get some lunch. Before I was able to turn towards the food lineup, Crissy grabbed my arm and led me towards one of the meeting rooms off the cafeteria. As I entered, my training group burst into a chorus of "Happy Birthday". They'd prepared a surprise party for me!I may have cried...just a little. It was so touching that these people that I've only known a week had put in such a mammoth effort to make my birthday so special. They'd put together a great feast of authentic Filipino food:
One guy had even gone wandering around Metro Manila at 4am searching for Balut for me to try! He wasn't able to find it, but has promised to bring some on Monday. Also, they all dressed up for the occasion, and brought a HUGE cake!
The generosity and kindness shown to me totally made my day, my week AND my birthday. It helped me realise that, despite the stress from the neverending stream of crises, I'm very lucky to have had the opportunity to meet and learn from these people.

Friday night the celebrations continued in a rather drunken manner...Crissy, the Manila team leader and another employee from Melbourne sampled the hotel's rather dangerous cocktails until the wee hours of the morning. We had a prime party spot - the hotel terrace, 6 floors above the street, decorated with multi coloured party lights and overlooking pedestrians and cars bustling past below. For the first night this week, the wet season took a break and we had a clear night to enjoy the outdoors.

$8 cocktails all night led to a rather sore head this morning for all of us, and we commiserated over a yummy buffet breakfast. Then, as this was our first free day, we ventured out shopping. The Melbourne rep, who has been here 5 weeks already, played tour guide and price haggler for the afternoon. The place we visited was Greenhills, a giant flea-market, packed to the brim with top-quality knockoffs. I managed to get myself a new handbag (good timing as mine had disintegrated earlier in the day) and two pairs of shoes for just over $30. Magic. Plans have been made to return.

Since then I've been lurking around my hotel room, enjoying all the extra opportunities for naked time. And now that I've finished this post, its 2 minutes to midnight and I'm almost 26.