I was surprised when I saw my phone showing 9 AM as I woke up. I had gone to bed at 9 PM the night before, which meant I had slept for 12 hours straight. During those 12 hours, I didn’t wake up even once. I must have been exhausted after the flight, especially since I couldn’t sleep on the plane.
I checked out with the receptionist, the same girl I had seen the previous night. I got my deposit back, left my large backpack at the reception, and headed to a coffee shop. Since I prefer starting my day with a walk, I walked for about 30 minutes before arriving at the café.
There was only one girl wearing headphones inside. Although I was hungry, I ordered only an iced Americano, which is usually the cheapest drink on the menu, although technically an espresso is even cheaper. I started writing my personal journal and updating this blog entry.
Although I was able to focus well, it was so cold because of the air conditioning that I had to move to different seats several times. I think the air conditioning in the Philippines tends to be quite strong, which I actually appreciate when I’m sleeping.
I stayed there until about 1:30 PM. About 30 minutes before I left, a few families with their children came in, and the kids started running around and playing as if they were at home. At that point, there were more than five other customers in the coffee shop. The parents didn’t say anything and just looked at their phones.
As I watched the situation, I thought that something like this would never happen in Japan. The staff would probably ask the children or their parents to be quieter because they were disturbing the other customers. But it was different here. None of the customers seemed to care about the children’s behavior, and neither did the staff. As the kids ran around the café shouting, everyone simply watched and laughed. Personally, I didn’t mind, but it was funny to witness such a situation after growing up in Japan, where people are generally much more conscious of bothering others.
After leaving the café, I bought some food at a convenience store, which I ended up regretting. I returned to the hostel and relaxed on a sofa in the common area.
Judo practice was going to start at 6 PM, so I left the hostel about two hours beforehand. I settled into another coffee shop and relaxed. I noticed that in the Philippines, you usually can’t find the Wi-Fi password displayed inside the café. Instead, it’s either printed on the receipt or written on a small piece of paper that a staff member gives you. On top of that, the amount of time you’re allowed to use the Wi-Fi is often limited to one or two hours, although some places offer unlimited access.
I’m sure that would bother digital nomads like Yaron from Israel, whom I had met the night before. He gets frustrated easily, so I imagine it would annoy him.
Thankfully, the judo dojo was close to the hostel, so I simply walked there. As I checked Google Maps, I arrived at the building. As I approached the entrance, a female security guard called my name to confirm who I was. Since I had needed permission to train with the national team, they already knew my name.
At the reception desk, I filled out a form and was taken to the dojo by a tall judoka who happened to enter at the same time. We took the elevator to the third floor. We changed in the bathroom, which reminded me of my experience in Hanoi, Vietnam.
After changing, I entered the dojo. It was quite large, but the tatami mats were bent and worn, making it possible to trip over them. Some of the students bowed to me, and I greeted all of the coaches, which is something I do whenever I visit a new dojo.
Before training, everyone prayed.
The practice began with a warm-up consisting of running, dynamic movements, gymnastics, and ukemi (breakfalls). After that, we did uchikomi (repetitive technique practice without throwing), completing 10 repetitions for 10 sets. Then we moved on to combination techniques and throwing practice.
After a short break, I was asked to teach my favorite technique, so I spent about 30 minutes showing it. It’s always fun to help passionate judoka who are eager to learn.
Then the randori (sparring) session began. It was a motodachi-style practice, where a few people stayed in continuously while others rotated in. I was able to rest between my rounds.
Although I couldn’t move very well, probably because I hadn’t eaten enough, I really enjoyed sparring with everyone. The practice lasted for two hours and was packed with training. It was a very intense session.
After practice, I asked the coaches and students for food recommendations. They kindly gave me several suggestions, and the head coach even gave me a Filipino snack. Before I left, they also warned me to be careful of snatchers, telling me that theft was common around the area.
After leaving the dojo, I tried to book a motorcycle taxi, but I couldn’t find one, so I decided to walk back to Stay Malate, where I was staying.
Since I was thirsty, I stopped at a 7-Eleven. As I entered the store, a couple of girls blocked my way and asked for the snack that the head coach had given me. One looked about seven years old, and the other looked a few years older. The older one was holding a small container filled with coins.
The fact that they were asking for food instead of money made me willing to share the snack with them. We ate a couple of pieces together. They told me that their parents were working at that time.
I asked if they wanted the rest, and they immediately said yes, so I gave it to them, feeling a little guilty because it had been a gift from the head coach.
I bought a two-liter bottle of Pocari Sweat and asked one of the store employees if the girls came there every night. He said they did.
As I was leaving, the younger girl asked me for money. I politely refused, hoping that one day they would be able to receive an education and find jobs rather than relying on asking strangers for money.
Although it was dark and the streets felt somewhat unsafe, I had no choice but to walk. Even though it was only about 9 PM, the streets were full of young people buying and selling things, tricycle drivers, and barking dogs. The warning from the coaches made me extra cautious.
While walking, I found a nice-looking food stall with many different dishes displayed in metal trays. Even though part of me hesitated, I was curious to see whether my stomach could handle more street food, so I decided to have dinner there.
I ordered rice, one meat dish, and a fried egg. The total came to 130 PHP ($2.10).
What made me a little nervous was that a couple of customers waiting to order warned me to hide my camera because of the snatchers. Looking back, it was probably one of the sketchiest streets I had walked through during these three months of traveling.
Although the rice was too soft and the meat dish was cold, I still enjoyed the meal considering the price.
I made it safely back to the hostel, which cost only $6 for the night. I checked in with a woman who looked to be in her forties and spoke English well.
The dorm room was a fairly typical hostel room, except that they had used charging cables to hang the curtain rods. It was also cleaner than I had expected. At this point, my impression was that the overall cleanliness, even in the bathrooms, was better than what I had experienced in Indonesia.
After taking a shower, I got ready for bed. A loud sound coming from someone’s phone was bothering me, so I opened my curtain and asked the guy in the bed next to mine to turn the volume down. He seemed a little annoyed, but I didn’t think that kind of noise was acceptable considering it was almost midnight.
Yaron’s words came back to me: “There are some crazy people when you stay in a cheap hostel.”
Although the air conditioning was colder than I would have liked, I fell asleep around midnight under the very thin blanket provided to each guest.
