October 14, 2023, Manila- The Stand Master’s advice was unequivocal: “Walk over that way (pointing towards a large KFC sign) and your hotel is right there.” Some of his drivers persisted in offering rides, and a few told me they thought the hotel was too expensive (as in “let me take you to my brother’s father-in-law’s cheaper hotel”). In the end, I listened to their boss, and walked to what was essentially like going dockside, from a marina. My Cotopaxi backpack and the laptop bag that Aram gifted me, four years ago, are designed for just this sort of transport, and I found my way, through the security cordon and across the airport ring road, with little trouble-especially as I had plenty of company. Filipinos are inveterate walkers, as are people in many parts of the Global South.

Terminal 1 (of the four that constitute Ninoy Aquino International Airport) is very close to a working class neighbourhood, with Manila Airport Hotel on the same property as the advertised Kentucky Fried Chicken franchise. It is, though, a pleasant and clean little hotel, despite being in a building at least as old as yours truly. Filipinos are also somewhat officious, so I had to wait until the exact appointed time for hotel check-in, though I was able to leave my bags in secure storage and take up space in the lobby, until that hour arrived.

It was a good time for me to size up the interactions among the crew (convivial and egalitarian), the overall clientele (some older men with young wives and other couples who were matched in age, as well as some men my age and younger, who are here alone, as I am) and the ambiance (a nice little coffee shop, several small restaurants that were closed, as it was after 11 a.m. on Saturday, and a small Chinese restaurant, where I took a small order of dim sum, being still full from the breakfast served on the flight from T’aipei. Dim sum, in Manila, means steamed soft rice dumplings that are round and quite large. It was the cheapest item on the menu, but good enough that I will go back at some point, over the next two weeks, and order something more substantial.

I closed out the day by having an enjoyable “English Breakfast”, for dinner. This English repast included a “Hungarian Sausage”, which was definitely of Trans-Danubian origin, scrambled egg that was omelet in quality, two small strips of bacon (well-crisped) and a couple of pieces of fresh-baked white bread, also well-toasted. The coffee holds its own, comparable to some of the best in the U.S.

The long day has a sequel, tomorrow, so off to dream land I go.