Even if an atlas is a foreign object to you, the city of Manila likely lives rent-free in your consciousness due to one of two things – Mohammad Ali’s fight against George Foreman (before he started peddling his own grill), The Thriller in Manila. Or you would be sure to know of the Manila folder, named after the historical fibre used in production. If you don’t know what an atlas is then the term “Manila Folder” probably sounds like a naughty term that you might find on Urban Dictionary (on closer inspection it is, best not to Google it at work). In much the same way as you do not see people getting amorous atop Rooty Hill, there is not a well organised filing cabinet on every street corner in Manila.

It was technically my third visit to Manila’s airport this trip, such was my inadequate planning. If there was an upside, I knew the layout of that airport like I was finding my way in the dark in my own home. The Taxi Drivers Union from Indonesia have been in close contact with their Pinoy brethren as the only things different with this interaction were the accent and the traffic was bearable.

My base for the next week was Makati, the business district of Manila and home to some highly regarded restaurants according to two old ladies who spilled the local good oil whilst we were chatting at the check-in at the airport in Jakarta. Of the five recommendations they gave, three were within walking distance from the hotel, Eton Towers. Judging from the sign at the entrance of the hotel I was going to need my black belts in karate, judo, krav maga, jujitsu and greco roman wrestling. Turns out that this could not be further from the truth. Whether it was the armed security guards at the hotel or the metal detector that was there for decoration (it always went off as people had phones/wallets and nobody batted an eyelid), there was nothing that got my spidey senses tingling.

Across the road was a 24 hour Chinese Restaurant, Chowking. This franchise rebranded after seeing the success of KFC who dropped the original Kentucky Fried Chicken in favour of the shorter moniker. Rather than go down the route of an abbreviation, the marketing team at Chowking decided to drop the second part of their name, “Hazard”. This has seen them kicking goals ever since. They have also taken a leaf out of the successful fast food franchise playbook that requires stores to upsize, bundle and cross promote at every available opportunity. The result, a mound of food that was only constrained due to the laws of physics. Fried chicken, rice, noodles, crackers, dumpling, sesame ball and sides all were present and accounted for. The plates had to be upgraded – paper and plastic plates have been replaced with something with greater load bearing properties. The reasoning behind the 24 hour opening time is largely due to the time it takes to stomach a meal. Not the best representation of a Chinese meal but for a quick fix takeaway it did the trick.

Another on the list of recommendations from the airport line ladies was nearby, Mom & Tina’s Bakery Café. After taking note of all the staff I was baffled who was Tina and who was “Mom”. My mind was playing a silent game of Guess Who? I was too respectful to ask every woman working there whether they were mothers or not. Let’s face it, after sampling nearly everything they sold I was starting to get child bearing hips myself. I wasn’t going to ask for DNA confirmation to solve the riddle of whether Mom and Tina were actually related or just a marketing stunt. Whatever it is they should keep doing what they are doing, the food was delicious and the staff couldn’t be more patient with a silly foreigner who had little idea (me).

On top of the pictures below, the cabinet was filled with cupcakes, cakes and biscuits that could be mistaken for a trendy café in Newstead or Surry Hills. Steered away from the familiar to take in the more traditional offerings. My fussy tastebuds give them top marks.

The Filipino street vendors are less mobile and more structurally sound than their Indonesian counterparts. These cube shaped kitchens are located on the side of the streets and there is room to stand under the awning (weather permitting) and eat your meal. Unfortunately there was no room to clamber on my first visit, meaning that every dish was placed in separate plastic bags so I could haul it home and eat in the hotel. Only problem being that there was no plates or cutlery in the hotel. Sucking noodles out of a plastic bag should come with a Government safety warning. The second visit to the roadside cubes was more successful in that I got a seat, but the food wasn’t as tasty as the initial visit. The fritter was so crispy it was bordering on being carcinogenic.

Sarsa was one of the places the ladies at the airport had raved about. “Sarsa” translates to “sauce” but this doesn’t do it justice, this place was all about the pork. By the end of the night I would have digested nearly every portion of a little piggy that went to market over the last week. Pig’s ears skewers taste as you would imagine, a gristly, chewy texture that called for some prolonged chewing. The empanada were crunchy beef pillows and came with a hot and sour dipping sauce.

For the main I was introduced to kare kare. That is not a typo. Avid followers would remember halo halo and gado gado from previous blogs. Kare kare is a stew in a peanut sauce and this one had ox tail, ox tripe, beans, cabbage and beef cheeks. The chilli sauce and the garlic rice (from now on all rice will be garlic rice) were worthy companions, as was the local craft beer, “Psychedelic Blonde”. By some miracle of metabolism there was room for dessert. Rather than another halo halo or a custard flan I ordered piaya, flatbreads full of a brown sugary mix and served with a caramel sauce on the side (in case it wasn’t sweet enough from the get go).

The table next to me ordered the deep fried pig’s ear (kurobuta chicharon) but judging by the size of it I believe they were served an elephant’s ear by mistake? That pig must have been suffering from macrotia?

And to end the day an iceblock from the convenience store underneath the hotel before the food coma kicks in. They were chocolate and banana flavoured but they were not some amalgam made in a test tube rather an actual frozen banana with a layer of chocolate. The worst outcome for a chocolate and banana flavoured food item in history. The chocolate shell was so thin the mere vibration caused by unwrapping the package was enough to crack all the chocolate and make it fall to the ground. For some reason I fell into this trap twice, leaving me eating these bland, sweaty bananas standing in a pile of melting chocolate.

One of the things that never ceases to amaze when travelling in Asia is process to launder clothes. My introduction to this unusual social interaction was in Vietnam, you drop a bag of dirty clothes off to an absolute stranger who will bring them back to life for next to nothing and not blink an eyelid for the inconvenience. My experience in Jakarta was drama free and so it was in Manila.

Dragging a black garbage bag into the laundry the lady asked me my name and what service I wanted. “Brad, B-R-A-D. Wash and fold please”, I replied. She opened the bag and got a sniff of what had been maturing in the plastic for close to a week. After regaining consciousness she put her hand into the bag to check the bag for human remains and weighed it (as you are charged per kilogram). The going rate is less than $1.50AUD/kg and I was told, “Come back in 24 hours Mr Brid and keep docket.” Apparently I am Mr Brid for the next day?

At collection the next day I reintroduced myself as Mr Brid, flashed the receipt and in return was given a parcel where everything folded neatly, socks paired together and everything smelling of lemongrass and dragonfruit. A level of service which has me crunching the numbers to see if it is viable to utilise their services from Australia. Their website counts the number of clothes washed in the various branches and at last count it is currently over 97 million.

With this being the penultimate episode of this adventure I will start getting all deep and meaningful. Travel is good for the soul, brain, heart and in this case sweat glands. Walking back one night during a moment on introspection, this warning caught me eye, it was literally a sign…

Food: Sarsa – https://www.instagram.com/sarsa_mnl/?hl=en

Food: Mom & Tina’s Bakery Cafe (Makati) – https://www.momandtinas.com/

Food: Chowking (Makati) – https://www.chowking.ph/

Accommodation: Eton Towers (Makati) – https://www.theminisuites.com/

Laundry: Metropole Laundry (Makati) – https://metropolelaundry.ph/

These links are for information only. There is no paid promotion etc