My week in Manila coincided with the AVC Womens Volleyball Challenge Cup, a tournament which was being staged downtown. Not normally a womens volleyball buff, I discovered this tourney flicking through the channels late one night after one two many empanadas. From that night on I caught most of the preliminary matches, paying particular attention to the plight of the young Australian team. Like any sport, if you have a horse in the race it makes it far more enjoyable. Australia had been winning the majority of their round robin matches and were on course to make the finals. Could our young Australian team bring home the silverware against Vietnam and then topple the host nation in the final? It would be unpatriotic not to turn up and show my support? After their demolition of Chinese-Taipei I snapped up a general admission seat so I could witness volleyball history live.

As the Philippines team was playing the game immediately following Australia it was impossible to get public transport to the game. A two kilometre walk in melanoma producing heat was the only option. What should have been a brisk forty-five minute walk ballooned out to a two hour sweaty crawl because of some wrong turns and detours to bakeries (when on holidays there is no bakery I can walk past). At one point I walked into a 7-Eleven bought a 1.5 litre bottle of sarsaparilla and 3 litres of water and swallowed them in a matter of minutes as the heat had broken my spirit again. Though soaked from eyebrow to Achilles I was too close to turn back. Fifteen minutes later I find the theatre of dreams and join the queues of locals who had been infected with a feverish anticipation.

The stadium (an oversized tin shed) had wooden seating, the strength of which didn’t garner much confidence. For me to stretch out was impossible without kneeing the people in front on me in the back of the head. I managed to get a seat up the back in a special section that was cordoned off for the television cameras, a surefire way to ensure that I won’t grace people’s TV screens. The game itself was exciting, Australia jumped out to an early lead and then they fell in a heap as if they had been collectively picked off by a sniper. I don’t mind getting beaten but when I saw the Australian team (who knew they had the cameras pointed on them) blowing kisses to the crowd and smiling during a timeout I was close starting a riot in the stands. The only thing that kept me from doing so was that my body was fused in a position that rendered my immobile for half an hour. It was if my body was a heavy blanket that had been packed away in a vacuum bag over summer and need some time to regain its usual shape.

Vietnam cleaned up the Australians in straight sets faster than me taking down a banh mi, leaving the small contingent of Australian fans quite sheepish for the rest of the day. The crowd came in thick and fast for the following game featuring the hometown team. The Philippine national team are considered demigods and for many locals who couldn’t secure a ticket, the chance to steal a glimpse from behind the fence when they were warming up was reminiscent of Beatlemania. Inside, the high pitched squeals of the young kids weren’t enough to get the Pinoy women across the line, who got edged out by Kazakhstan. Borat would have been happy! The Philippines did win the third place event against Australia so it wasn’t all doom and gloom.

Tucked under my hotel were two places to hide away when the rain decided to mar the day. One was a ramen joint and the other a café. For the first time ever I decided to take down a basque cheesecake at the cafe. For the record they pair well with a black coffee and a paperback.

Kawa Ramen staff new me by size and skin colour after the first couple of days. The ramen was delicious with pork and hard boiled egg showing off their buoyant properties. The sizzling plate was blander than AM radio, but what did I expect with unflavoured pork with corn and white rice?

With a couple of days before my flight departs Manila caught part of a typhoon. The rain soaked clouds did have a silver lining and this was my introduction to food delivery apps. Even in Australia I don’t use them because I don’t need encouragement to become a housebound hermit. My war room was the café underneath the hotel as it gave me uninterrupted wi-fi and easy access to the delivery points. With the introductory offers and the exchange rate the cost of delivery was a handful of beans. And the ability to stagger the delivery times to synch with my digestive system was an epiphany.

And it wasn’t long before my phone started shaking violently with delivery notifications. I desperately wanted to get my hands on a buko pie (a coconut pie that makes Pinoy folk dizzy with passion). Unfortunately they were all sold out so I was left with an apple pie for those late night sweet cravings. Noodles are always a dependable option for food delivery. Like a teenager with a electronic tablet, they don’t move much in transit.

When the sun was out and one was able to rejoin the sunshine I wanted to try some local adobo. Not trying adobo whilst in Philippines would be akin to going vegetarian in Texas. The beef rib adobo at Lacavore was the answer. Team that with a pot of garlic rice and you will never be happier. Remember to squash all of the sweet goodness from the roasted garlic cloves.

Tatatito is a newish restaurant which was a favourite during my week in Manila with me having breakfast, lunch and dinner there. My breakfast was the staple, champorado, a chocolate rice porridge. What’s not to like other than the head scratching dried fish which was served on the side. Fish isn’t unusual for breakfast here but I wasn’t expecting it anyway near a sweet porridge. Another revelation was the avocado juice, there needs to be more of this everywhere. It was the place where I had my last meal and pipped Sarsa as my favourite spot in Makati.

And I couldn’t continue my holiday without seeking out a carinderia. Tapsilog, a sweet beef stew with rice, a couple of eggs, a fishy soup and the traditional breakfast drink of choice, Mountain Dew. Can we start an online petition to start breeding bigger limes, or at least limes that have more juice than seeds?

And some final food shots, the top three were from Cafe Via Mare, a specialist in desserts. Their halo halo was a warm soup like version. The word “halo” is translated to “mixed” so I supposed this gives you license to do anything. This one had rice balls and bits and pieces lurking underneath the surface. Next on the list was sticky rice (coloured with ube once again) and served with coconut and brown sugar. You can see the theme here that the desserts are sickly sweet. Bring it on.

The flight leaves near midnight and my checkout was midday. Even the mathematically challenged realise that this leaves me with an awful lot of time to fill in even after factoring in the transit time to the airport and the stringent airport security. I was able to find an airport lounge that welcomes walk-ins who are willing to part with $40AUD for shelter and sustenance. There is more on offer at the waiting room in the Longreach airport and that only has a vending machine. The food hiding under the containers was cooked at the time when Y2K was an impending threat. The cheese looked as if it was all blue cheese and the dumplings in the steamer had been sitting their unloved for that long the paper on the bottom of the dumplings was in danger of catching fire. Thankfully alcohol doesn’t spoil over time and the fridge was operational. My final meal on Filipino soil was a bottle of scotch, varying mixers and banana bread with a coconut chocolate spread. I had learned my lesson in Jakarta with taking chances on dormant food.

On the way to the gate I walked past some members of the Australian Womens Volleyball Team, stretched out on the floor immersed in paperbacks and musical playlists. My constructive criticism on their defensive formations fell on deaf ears. Maybe I should have talked about risking life and limb to watch them get trampled by Vietnam in the semi-finals. An emotional tale may have given my uneducated ramblings some unwarranted gravitas?

And as I board the plane for the morale sapping flight home I doubt that we will even make it back. The aisle of the plane looks as if there is a bushfire in the cockpit. What looks like smoke is merely condensation, but this is only confirmed on a second take.

Even though I could be considered middle-age (ouch), I still like to keep abreast of how the trendsetters are occupying their time. Turns out they are “rawdogging”. When I was their age that meant something completely different (don’t look it up Mum). Apparently this term is now given to the act of going on a flight with no entertainment and sitting and stewing in your own thoughts. That would make me a passenger way before my time. I remember times at the turn of the century internally swearing at myself because I needed to pass the time somehow. Heads up influencers, if you want the perfect environment to become zen it is Philippine Airlines, though at least this jet did have inflight entertainment.

Philippine Airlines continue their trend of running late but at least the plane made it to Brisbane in one piece. Realised (again too late) that duty free shopping is a rort. Everybody’s request for colognes and perfumes didn’t occur because nothing was in stock. Looks like we will have to mask ourselves in Brut and Mum Dry Roll-On until next time I head out of the country. Grandma was chasing some Chanel No. 5 but given she has half a bottle left it will be interesting to see who outlasts who? I told her not to ration her stocks and if she uses it all up I will go overseas just to grab her a new bottle. Judging by her efforts to impress in the aged care home I will be planning a trip very shortly.

And if you are wondering, my final verdict is that Manila (especially Makati) has revisit potential. Salamat sa pagbabasa.

Food: Tatatito (Makati)

Food: Locavore (Makati)

Food: Kawa Ramen (Makati)

Food: Natsu (Makati)

Dessert: Cafe Via Mare (Maki)

Food Delivery: Grab (Nationwide)

Accommodation: Eton Mini Towers (Makati)