11 Million Reasons

There are 11 million reasons to hate Manila right off the bat. Manila is big, humid, loud, dirty and worse than the fuckers in Pattaya. We arrive at the hostel in the middle of the night. The quality of the karaoke show next door is almost semi-professional, the volume much louder. Four hours of sleep later, I’m flowing through the morning streets, discreetly jetlagged.

After three minutes, the first whore wants a cigarette. Then a massage. I’m not in the mood for a massage today. And her offer is too low. I decline and leave her looking a bit stupid. I want a SIM card and to get out of Manila. Quick breakfast at the hostel, out again and pick up the hire car. The taxi driver needs 15 minutes for the 5 kilometres as the crow flies, I need more than 1.5 hours back.

Manila offers 11 million reasons not to want to drive. Most of them speak Filipino. Five lanes are generally at least seven, there are hardly any signs, my sat nav doesn’t want to do it again, cutting every second is a good thing, you’re not allowed to stop anywhere. On the extension of a turning lane, there’s an asshole who thinks he can rip me off for 35 euros or my driving licence because of his police uniform or other disqualification – without a receipt, of course. Even the hostel owner gets upset about it later. I’ve had enough. Fuck you, Manila!

We set off southwards through three hours of traffic jams. City becomes Trabant becomes endless slum becomes a cow. In between, the toll houses collect money every 5 kilometres. A Korean restaurant brings me back down to 170 kilometres with a big rumble and Uli is happy not to have to drive. Our destination for today: Lake Taal, a lake with an island in a volcanic crater.

The life expectancy of the male population in this province is the lowest in the entire Philippines. Like blowflies on a warm summer evening, they dive in front of the windscreen at full speed. Even before you have stopped and wiped away the blood, they scramble up again and want to offer you completely overpriced boat trips on the lake. Those pushers with police-style implements seem to have an increased life expectancy. At least they generally look older.

The whole of Manila wants to go to Lake Taal at the weekend. The first hotel is full, the second too expensive, the third too dirty. We decide to cycle round the lake. The road becomes a dirt track in the middle of the province. The wind picks up, at the south-west end of Lake Taal there are easily 20 knots of full onshore wind between the closely spaced fishing boats. My sat nav doesn’t go crazy for a moment and tells us after just two hours of rally feeling that we’ve already completed a quarter of what feels like three-quarters of the way round. We drive back to Tagaytay and put up in a hotel that is too expensive. A planned afternoon nap turns into eight hours. Blogging at four in the morning. The sunrise is sure to be awesome.