I woke up at about 9 AM. I slept pretty well and felt refreshed. That day, I planned to do some sightseeing in Intramuros, where there are several World War II monuments related to the battles between Japan and the United States in Manila.
When I checked how long it would take to get there on foot, it showed only about 40 minutes from the hostel, so I decided to walk. Along the way, I visited the Memorare Manila 1945 Monument, Manila Cathedral, and Fort Santiago.
Unfortunately, the basement that the Japanese military had used for their brutal actions was closed, but I could still understand how terrible the war had been. Every time I visit war memorials, I genuinely feel that wars should never happen, especially those that cause innocent people who had nothing to do with the conflict to lose their lives. I should learn more from history.
By the time I finished visiting Fort Santiago, my entire body was soaked with sweat. My tank top was completely wet, and even the backpack touching my back was drenched. I thought, “It’s time for a break. I’ve been walking for over two hours under the intense sunlight.”
I decided to head to Manila’s Chinatown for lunch.
As soon as I left Fort Santiago, several tricycle and motorcycle drivers offered me rides. One motorcycle driver asked where I wanted to go, and I said, “I want to go to Chinatown. How much?”
He immediately took his phone out of his pocket and started searching for something. While he was doing that, I also took out my phone to check the price on Move It. He tried to stop me and said, “Only this app,” while pointing at his phone.
Move It showed that the ride would cost about 50 PHP ($0.80). Eventually, he showed me his price: 150 PHP.
I simply said, “No,” and started walking away.
A few minutes later, a tricycle driver approached me. I asked the same question.
“I’d like to go to Chinatown. How much?”
“150.”
“No.”
I started walking again.
At that point, I was exhausted from walking in the heat and constantly being approached by drivers, so I booked a ride through Move It. While I was waiting, the tricycle driver kept trying to negotiate and lowered the price to 100 PHP.
I didn’t have the patience to continue the conversation, so I firmly said, “I already booked a ride on my phone.”
He finally gave up and stopped negotiating.
About five minutes later, my motorcycle driver arrived and took me to Chinatown.
In the Philippines, Indonesia, and Vietnam, where traffic is notoriously heavy, many drivers seem to have very little patience. They rarely give way to pedestrians or other vehicles. I once heard someone say that people’s personalities change when they get behind the wheel.
It was funny to watch the motorcycle riders repeatedly honking at a car that had stopped in the middle of the street because the driver was carrying something from a street vendor, completely blocking the road. Every motorcycle and car kept honking, even though it obviously wasn’t going to solve the situation immediately. They really aren’t patient at all.
After arriving in Chinatown, I looked for a place to have lunch and ended up at a Chinese noodle restaurant called Masuki. There were only a few customers, and the staff looked bored.
I sat down and started looking through the menu. My first impression was that it was expensive compared to the street food I had been eating, which usually cost around 150 PHP. Most of the noodle dishes were over 200 PHP.
I ordered the Beef Wonton Asado Mami for 300 PHP ($4.90).
Everything feels expensive after spending three weeks in Indonesia. It takes some time to get used to the higher cost of living in the Philippines. Going in the opposite direction would definitely have been easier on my wallet.
The noodles were delicious. Looking back, I probably should have also tried a siopao, a steamed meat bun, but I was already full, and it felt a bit too expensive.
Afterward, I took a short walk, bought an egg tart, and then left Chinatown. I headed back to the hostel where I had stayed on my first night, Ola Hostel Manila.
When I arrived, one of the front desk staff recognized me and said, “Welcome back.”
I checked in again and took a nap on one of the sofas in the common area.
At around 3:30 PM, I went to Sasa Cafe, located right next to the hostel. I spent a couple of hours writing in my personal journal and updating this blog entry. Surprisingly, I was pretty locked in.
At about 5 PM, I returned to the hostel to get ready for my second training session with the Philippine national judo team.
There were even more young judokas preparing to compete in the upcoming Asian Games. I did a lot of randori (sparring) with them, just like I used to when I was still an active competitor.
The training completely exhausted me, but I was genuinely happy to practice with such passionate athletes. Some of them even asked me for advice, which made me feel honored.
Since it was my last training session there, I thanked all of the coaches before leaving the dojo.
I was so tired that I grabbed a random Korean bulgogi bowl on my way back and ate it at the hostel. After taking a shower—which felt amazing—I went to bed, but I was bothered by the guy who slept in the bed next to me.
