I woke up at about 9:30 since I couldn’t fall asleep until around 2 AM. The guy whose bed was next to mine was using his laptop after midnight and even took a shower. The light from his iPhone was so bright that it kept bothering me. Also, the nap I took after lunch probably affected my sleep, too.
I could feel intense soreness in my neck, back, and forearms. My plan for the day was simple: move as little as possible so that I could save as much energy as I could before taking the bus to Baguio City that night.
However, the first thing I had to make sure I got done was my laundry. The reason I came back to my first hostel, even though the second hostel was cheaper and comfortable enough to sleep well, was that there was a laundry shop and a coffee shop right next to it.
After checking out, I went downstairs and waited until the laundry shop opened at 10 AM. However, even though it was already after 10, I was told to wait until they were ready. Instead of waiting, I went to the coffee shop and started writing my personal journal and updating this blog entry, as I usually do in the morning.
While I was writing, I kept going back and forth between the coffee shop and the laundry shop since I decided to wash and dry my clothes myself. My judo uniform was still a bit wet, so I hung it up and left for lunch at a nearby Mexican restaurant called El Poco Cantina. Since it had been a while since I had last eaten Mexican food, I was really excited. Mexican food was actually my favorite cuisine when I lived in the US.
As soon as I entered the restaurant, I could tell how popular it was. It was packed, although there were still a few seats available at the counter. Most of the customers looked like they were in their twenties. Although it was a bit expensive for me, I’m willing to pay for good food, so I ordered two sets of tacos—one with beef and one with pork carnitas—as well as a consommé soup.
Even though the restaurant was busy, the food was served quickly. Although the tacos weren’t as good as the ones I had in the US, I absolutely enjoyed the meal. The total came to 450 PHP ($7.30), which I tried not to think about.
After finishing the food in no time, I headed back to the laundry shop. However, I ended up finding another coffee shop on the way, so I went in and decided to kill some more time there.
I returned to the laundry shop at around 4 PM. My judo uniform had completely dried, so I packed everything into my backpack.
Since I had nothing else to do, I decided to finally try something I had wanted to experience: riding a jeepney.
That night, I needed to go to the Cubao bus terminal, which was about 30 minutes from the hostel by car. I had plenty of time before my bus departed at 11:55 PM, so I didn’t really care whether the jeepney I took was going in exactly the right direction.
I waited until the traffic came to a stop and didn’t miss the opportunity. A few jeepneys pulled over, and I asked one of the drivers which one I should take. I was a little nervous, but surprisingly, the driver simply pointed at the sign I should look for when boarding.
Right after that, I noticed a few local people watching me, so I showed them a picture of the sign the driver had pointed out and asked which jeepney I should take. They kindly helped me by pointing to a jeepney on the opposite side of the road. I thanked them and got on.
Sadly, there were only a few passengers. For the experience, I had hoped to ride a crowded jeepney where I could barely squeeze myself in. Even so, everyone was looking at me.
I was happy to experience one of the little traditions of riding a jeepney: passing money from passenger to passenger until it reached the driver. I felt like I had become part of the team.
I asked the driver, who was wearing a tank top, had tattoos, and wore a purple cap—someone I wasn’t sure I’d ever become friends with—for the fare. It was only 13 PHP.
I had no idea where I was going, but I enjoyed every minute of the ride. Some passengers got off at random places while others got on and somehow knew exactly how much to pay. Since I was sitting right behind the driver, I became the bridge whenever passengers passed their fares forward, which made me feel even more like one of the locals.
The driver told me to get off when we reached the place where I had asked him to drop me off. Although it was still a long way from the bus terminal, I was at least a little closer. As I said, I didn’t care where I ended up as long as I got to experience riding a jeepney.
Since I hadn’t managed to ride a crowded one, I wanted to try another. However, I suddenly came up with another idea—I would try riding a tricycle, something I hadn’t experienced yet.
I happened to spot one parked on a quiet street. The driver was just relaxing and started talking to me as I walked past him. Normally, I don’t respond when random drivers call out to me on the street, but this time was different. I was bored and simply looking for something to do while heading in the general direction of the bus terminal.
So I turned around and told him where I wanted to go. I asked how much it would cost. Since the driver didn’t speak much English, another man came over and joined the conversation. Eventually, he typed the fare into my iPhone: 50 PHP ($0.80).
Earlier, I had checked the fare on the Move It app, and a motorcycle ride to the same destination was around 170 PHP. Since 50 PHP sounded like a great deal, I accepted the offer. As I always do to avoid getting overcharged later, I tried to pay in advance.
However, they refused to take the money and simply told me to get into the sidecar.
Although I felt a little suspicious, I got in anyway.
The tricycle took off with the driver in front and the English-speaking man riding behind him. Since the sidecar sat much lower than the driver’s seat, the exhaust fumes came straight into my face, which was extremely unpleasant.
After about 15 minutes, they stopped and told me we had arrived.
I immediately thought, “No way.”
I looked around and realized we were nowhere near my destination, so I corrected them. The English-speaking man told me I needed to take a bus instead, and from what I could understand, they were going to take me to the bus station.
So we set off again.
This time, the ride was longer because of the heavy traffic.
Along the way, he suddenly demanded payment. As we had agreed, I handed him 50 PHP.
He looked unhappy and said, “No, Philippine money. Your country’s money.”
I replied, “I only have Philippine pesos.”
He became even angrier and said, “I meant your home currency.”
In my head, I thought, Fifty Japanese yen is worth much less than 50 Philippine pesos.
Still, I firmly repeated, “I only have Philippine pesos.”
He looked even angrier and suddenly shouted,
“800!”
At that point, I knew it was a scam.
I immediately told them to stop and let me out.
As soon as I got out of the sidecar, the English-speaking man—whose English was difficult to understand, probably because he was missing several teeth—blocked my way and kept pushing me to pay 800 PHP.
I started getting upset and told him that it was ridiculous. I reminded him that we had agreed on 50 PHP.
He replied, “That was only for the first ride. You took a second ride, too.”
The distance they had driven during the second ride was almost the same as the first, so it made no sense that it would cost 15 times as much.
I firmly decided that I would not pay more than 150 PHP. After a while, he lowered the price from 800 to 500, and eventually to 300. Once he reached 300, he refused to go any lower, and we argued for quite some time. I was equally determined not to pay 300, but I was getting tired of dealing with the situation. Finally, I offered him 200 PHP and told him to let me go. He rejected the offer a few times, but eventually gave up and accepted it.
Although I ended up paying much more than I should have, I handed over the 200 PHP. They left and disappeared.
When I looked around, I noticed that several people had been watching us. Our argument must have been loud enough to attract attention.
I was still far from the bus terminal, and I also needed to have dinner before catching my bus. According to Google Maps, there was a street nearby with several good food stalls, so I decided to head there.
Since I was mentally exhausted after the argument, I booked a Move It motorcycle taxi. Ironically, it cost me less than 200 PHP even though the ride was much longer than the one I had taken with the tricycle. Because of the heavy traffic, it took about 30 minutes to get there.
I was incredibly grateful to the driver, who simply took me to my destination without saying a word.
I walked along the street looking for an appealing food stall, but I couldn’t find one that caught my attention. Instead, I decided to walk to the bus terminal so I could save every peso after getting scammed.
I ended up walking for more than 30 minutes, sweating heavily in the humid weather. Luckily, I found a shopping mall near the terminal, so I went inside to cool down.
While walking around the mall, I unexpectedly came across Marugame Seimen, a Japanese udon chain. I couldn’t resist going in. I ordered a bowl of udon along with a fried sweet potato and a fried egg.
While waiting in line to pay, the restaurant suddenly had problems with its cash register system. I had to wait for more than ten minutes before it was fixed, which made me feel like I simply had no luck that day.
Still, eating food from my home country healed me both physically and mentally.
After finishing my meal and relaxing for a while, I left the mall and headed to the bus terminal. Even though I arrived about two hours before my bus was scheduled to depart, I wanted to confirm where it would leave from.
Once I found the departure platform, I spent another hour at Jollibee, the fast-food chain that I seemed to see everywhere in Manila.
One thing I noticed during my stay in the Philippines was how much people love fast food. Every fast-food restaurant I passed was packed with customers. It made me wonder whether that was one of the reasons I felt like I saw more overweight people than in other Southeast Asian countries.
The café latte I ordered tasted so bad that I only managed to drink about five percent of it.
After leaving Jollibee, I bought a bottle of water at 7-Eleven and headed back to the bus terminal.
The terminal was much more organized than I had expected. There was a large screen displaying each bus, its platform number, departure time, and boarding status.
While I was waiting for my bus, I noticed the back of a T-shirt worn by a young guy who looked like he was still in high school. It read:
“I’d rather hustle for 24 hours than work 9 to 5 for somebody.”
I told him that I liked his T-shirt.
“Thank you,” he replied. “It’s my brand.”
I was genuinely impressed.
As I hoped there wouldn’t be anyone sitting right next to me, a group of three young people boarded the bus just before departure.
The bus finally left a little behind schedule.
Unfortunately, I struggled to sleep because the air conditioning was blasting cold air the entire time. By the time we arrived, I honestly couldn’t even tell whether I had actually fallen asleep or not.
Cubao Bus Terminal (Victory Liner)
