Forty-eight Hours

For those un- fortunate enough to bare my verbal frustration in the weeks preceding my departure, you can skip ahead- you already know the story. After Google searching budget airlines in Southeast Asia, I came across Cebu Pacific that flew between Taipei and Manila. At Ryanair-like prices, this was an opportunity that couldn't be passed up. However, I learned a great deal about why budget airlines are so cheap.

First I tried booking on the internet. That failed several times. I then decided to call the airline. With skype, it costs 16 cents a minute- not a cheap call particularly for an English teacher. What became even more frustrating was that when I called, I was constantly on hold for fifteen minutes before I would loose the connection and, coincidentally, my place in line. In the end, I spent over 30 euros trying to call this airline.

I wrote them 2 e-mails asking for assistance- both of which were never answered.

When I did get in touch with them, I promptly booked my flight. When they gave me the price of the ticket, it was about $45 US more than what it said on the internet- including the tax. I asked why this was so and they said the processing fee was more expensive by phone. I politely informed them that I wanted to book on the internet but their website wouldn't allow me to do it. Therefore, I didn't think it was fair to pay the higher price. They told me I had to pay the higher fare- there was no negotiation. At this point I became quite frustrated and rudely blurted out, "If you can't get your computers to work correctly, there sure is no way in hell I'm going to fly on one of your planes." I was determined to locate another company with better pricing. This search was, unfortunately, not particularly fruitful.

Unable to find another flight cheaper, I decided to return to Cebu Pacific with my tail between my legs and book the flight over the phone. I was slightly puzzled when they inquired as to the name of my issuing bank. Never actually having been asked this question before, I gave them the name of my Bank- TDBanknorth, and moved on. (For future information- this is not your issuing bank and if you say it is, it will cause problems.) They said if I don't get my electronic ticket in my e-mail by noon the next day, I should call back. Well, as you may have guessed, no ticket was issued and I had to phone them once again at such an intolerable rate (although much less intolerable thanks to skype). They told me it was processing and I should hear in 2-3 days. Five days went by and nothing. I called back again and asked what the problem was. They said the issuing bank was incorrect and then they sounded annoyed with me that they never sent an e-mail telling me this was a problem. Well, we corrected the mistake and they said I should hear from them the following day.

I did hear from them the next day, with an e-mail heading written as the following- ELECTRONIC TRANSACTION FAILED!!! What could be more frustrating at this point? Well, I got on the phone- called up CapitalOne's fraud department, removed the block on my account, called back Cebu Pacific, re-ordered the ticket, waited 24 hours, received no e-mail, called back about no email, was told the e-mail would arrive in an hour, checked the inbox, and then finally got an e-mail from Cebu Pacific: my plane was booked!

On March 9th, one bag in hand, plus a snorkeling mask and 2 fins, I boarded a plane in Taipei. In the air, I watched the Ali mountains of Taiwan pierce through the clouds and the leathery Southeast Asian Sea stand lifelessly still thousands of feet below me. I arrived in Nino Aquino Inter- national Airport in Manila, named famously for the political assassi- nation on the tarmac, and was greeted by warm air, friendly smiles, and pollution.

Not really knowing where I was going, I walked out the front entrance to the airport, past five security outposts, before I was wandering aimlessly in the airport parking lot looking like a trapped mouse for an exit. Playing the whole exit strategy cool, I finally made it out to the road. Jeepneys and busses were passing by to a part of the city called Baclaran. I needed to get to an area called Cubao and they only way I knew how was by taxi. But with five hours to kill, I decided to be a bit more adventurous and take a Jeepney instead. Not knowing how they worked, I watched a few locals before me and followed their lead. I hopped into the back of a decent looking jeepney and paid my seven pesos to the driver. Sharing the ride with a father and his son and daughter, who were licking their chocolate and vanilla swirl ice-creams, I took in the senses of Manila. They were usually accompanied by a choking cough.

The jeepney took me as far a Baclaran and it was up to me to walk the rest of the way to the MRT, or subway. I walked along in certainly not the upscale part of Manila, but by far the most upbeat. The sidewalks were crammed with street vendors selling everything one can imagine from watch repairs to fruits and vegetables to bootlegged DVDs. The buildings were a combination of square, cement blocks to Spanish-influenced verandas. I made it to the MRT after about ten minutes and was surprised as to how it compared to Taipei's MRT.

Taipei's MRT is the pride of the city. Clean, efficient, well lit and safe, it's everything the MRT in Manila is not. To enter the MRT, your bags and person must be checked at the entrance. Then you must wait ten minutes in line to purchase a single or return ticket. Then you must walk around for what seems like forever in this labyrinth to find your correct platform because apparently, Filipinos don't need maps. Ever.

I took the MRT to Cubao, my desti- nation, and walked along the 24 hour Jolibee farmer's market to the Araneta Coliseum. I walked around this rather modern and clean section of Manila in search of a quick bite to eat before my overnight bus ride to Legaspi. After a few purchases from street vendors, I came across a beautiful site. Being deprived of this holy establishment for nine whole months, my jaw stretched to the ground and tears welled up in my eyes as I came across Dave Thomas' most wonderful contribution to the human race- Wendy's. I walked into the store's entrance, checked my bag at security, anxiously app- roached the counter, and barely voiced my order due to my excitement- "One frosty please." The friendly lady behind the counter took my order, handed it to me with a smile and I sat there, enjoying my dairy treat before I boarded my overnight bus trip on Penafrancia bus line.

My scheduled ETA in Legaspi was 5:00 in the morning. The guide I hired there volunteered to pick me up at the terminal so naturally he was there waiting. Unable to call ahead, I felt so guilty when the bus didn't roll into the city until 7:15 AM. But being the wonderful and friendly man that he was, he was there waiting for me. He introduced himself as Ray and he brought me to the office. We arrived at the office and I met Mercy- with whom I corresponded before hand- and Marty- the owner. Marty is a Filipino version of my Uncle Steven. If you ever put them in a room together, the similarities would floor you.

With still enough time to do our planned activity for the day, we checked into the Legaspi Tourist Inn, I changed into my bathing suit, and we were off. All I had to do was stop at the local ATM and withdraw some money. Simple enough, right? Apparently not when you are trying to use Taiwan ATM cards. At 8:00 AM, Ray and Mercy were driving me around to ten different banks where I tried my Taiwan ATM card, my VISA Card, and my AMERICAN EXPRESS card. All of which were not working. Down, but not out, we decided to wait until nine for the banks to open. While I am sure that the problem was my Taiwan card, I don't think banks like "BDB Bank- A Rural Bank" helped much. The tellers were of course no help and there I was, a traveller in the middle of the Philippines broke and no way to get money.

In the Philippines, working possibilities are not, as we say, ample. Therefore, many Filipino men and women travel to foreign countries in search of jobs. These people are called Over Sea Workers. There are so many of them from the Philippines, they actually get their own line at customs. Well, in order to send the bacon back home to their families, they need money wiring services. For as many 7/11's there are in Taiwan, there is an equal number of Western Unions in the Philippines. So, with my bank cards not working, Mercy and Ray brought me to Western Union, we went through security, and like that I was on the phone with my parents in the United States. Our conversation went something like this-

"Hi Mom, hi Dad. Guess what- I'm in the Philippines!"

"Hi Michael, how are you?"

"I'm good, but I also have no money. My cards aren't working. Could you wire me $500 through Western Union?"

Being the loving and benevolent parents that they are, they sent me that money- converted to $19,000 Pesos- without question or concern and my vacation was back on track. Thank you mom and dad. And by the way, the process was a lot more complicated than I made it out to be here- including credit card blocks and incompetent clerks at Western Union. But the point is- I got the money.

The time was then 12 noon, and my original plan had to be delayed. Instead, I decided to take in the town. I walked around the city for a while and went to get some lunch. A restaurant called Small Talk Cafe was recommended to me for some good food, so I hopped on a Jeepney and took off to the establishment. Once I arrived in that section of Legaspi, though, my stomach started to churn. I ran into the closest fast-food restaurant and quickly used their toilet. I came out feeling a little bit better, but rather weak.

I decided my appetite was gone and I got back on a jeepney and headed for the area around my hotel. I stopped in to the grocery store to buy some water and crackers to stay hydrated and get some food in my stomach. But, only thirty minutes after my last upset stomach, I got another attack. I was in walking distance from my hotel and decided to head back there for a while. With English television programs and air-condition, I opted to get some rest- perhaps my illness was due to my fatigue. However, the diarrhea was kicking in at 30 minute intervals and I was pretty weak. At around six thirty, I started vomiting and came to the dissapointed conclusion I had contracted some rare Filipino disease. I went downstairs to the office and asked if there was a doctor I could see. The man there called Marty who personally knew the Peace Corps doctor at the hospital. Marty picked me up in his own car and brought me to the doctor who saw me right away. All I remember from the evening at the hospital was Marty joking about there being some Balut outside I could try, me contracting something called Traveller's Diarrhea, and vomiting. And the irony of it all- the doctor thinks it was the Frosty at Wendy's that did me in.

I told Marty that it looked like we would have to postpone the vacation one more day. He agreed.

The doctor gave me a sub- scription to a local pharmacy for some medicine to kill the bacteria and make me feel better. However, when we got there, it occured to me in my half-conscious state that I left everything at the doctor's- my passport, my tickets, my visas, and most importantly, all my money. I told Marty this and he personally spotted me the $1,000 Pesos, or twenty bucks, to buy the medicine. He dropped me off at the hotel and he went back to the hospital to pick everything up for me.

I climbed into bed, drank my water, ate my crackers, took my medicine, got my money, passport, and visa back, fell asleep, and didn't wake up until 12:00 the next day.

From your internationally sick, broke, and lactose-intolerant-to-the-extreme adventurer, Michael.