Monday 2nd December, Hotel Co-Co, Manila, Philippines

The Ninoy Aquino Airport, nestled next to one of Manila's more notorious slums, has never been known for its welcoming ambience. Ninoy Aquino, indeed found his welcome far more terminal than the rest of us. At least we can get out of the place. I've never really worked out how to hail a cab successfully here. No reasonably dependable limo services as in KL and Bangkok, and no "fixed meter" little blue cabs waiting in enthusiastic but disciplined orderly queues as in Changi at Singapore. Save for my experiences at Beijing making the trip from the airport to your welcoming hotel bed in the city, perhaps Manila has the most unpredictable system.

Now Manila is of course the most "American" of all Asian cities, and even though meters are installed on most cabs, bargaining is di-rigeur. By some smarty pants system, dreamed up by taxi operators I would guess, there does not seem to be a "place" where all cabs assemble. You are more likely to find one on its lonesome, with little chance to apply marketplace principles of supply and demand.

Cab drivers here understand English only when they want to. Now there is a place, enshrined in legend, where you can go to a get a normal meter taxi, and God knows I've tried, but on touching down at Manila airport, the last thing on anybody's mind is to go on a scavenger hunt for this mythical place. So its into the first cab, politely declining the invitation to place my luggage in the boot, until I have indeed, settled on a price.... The Filipino currency is the peso, and there are heaps of pesos in a pound or a US dollar. At 12 midnight, currency conversions are not my strong point, so I just half the asking price and go up a bit, do the whinging Pom act, and jump in...

Which reminds me of the old joke of the Japanese businessman on his first trip to Manila. ...Settling back in the back seat of his cab to the Manila Hotel, the Japanese gentleman observes a Toyota sailing past his side windows of his ambling taxi. "Ah!", he exclaimed to the driver, ".. Toyota... Japanese car!... Very fast!". The cab driver unsmilingly continues his perfunctory pace towards the hotel. Soon, another car hurtles past the other window. "Heh!", cries the Tokyo business man, "...Honda..... Japanese... Very FAST!". The cab driver with stoic fortitude plods his way to the hotel as the customer makes continued references to the Japanese cars overtaking them. Finally at the hotel, the customer gets out of the cab, and the driver quotes him a fare of 20,000 pesos. "Heh!",.... shouts the customer", "why so expensive!" The cab driver in his same impassioned manner, puts on his best mock Japanese accent and says.. " ....Japanese meter... very fast!...".

Not noticing any English cars on the trip however, I do not fall for the same caper. Then again I'm not heading for a five star hotel, but indeed the worryingly entitled establishment "Hotel Co-Co". For in Manila, the choice of hotel districts comes down to the new business area of Makati, with several glittering hotels including the trendy and refined Peninsular to the older Manila Bay area, boasting several 4 to 1/2 star hotels gathered around Roxas Boulevard. Now the latter area used to be the lively centre of Manila, with an assortment of night-clubs and hotels that, while sometimes of dubious parentage and standing, still made it the centre. A few stabbings and murders, and a wish to move the less desirable aspects of the night-time divertissements elsewhere by a rampaging mayor, has seen this area decline to a shadow of its former self. While the sunsets over Manila Bay, enhanced by chemically induced pollution filters are still as spectacular as the days when McCarthur stood at the Manila Hotel and vowed to return, (and also the days when he did, indeed return), the area has seen a decrease in crime rate but the hotels, restaurants and night clubs are even more seedy and tired due to the lack of customers...

The brochure for the Hotel Co-Co showed a glittering chandelier decorated foyer. The reality was much different. Emblazoned in peeling paint over the brickwork on one side of the hotel was an advertisement for the night-club therein, and also a positions vacant type advert for "hostess's" (5,000 peso per hour). The peeling paint however suggested and the experience inside, suggested that this sign was well beyond its "use-by" date. For alas, the night-club had closed, so there was no place to quench my thirst, while I waited for the staff to come to an agreement over which room to place me in, as yes, indeed, there was no reservation for a Mr Blanchard.

Eventually I booked in. The aircon kept me awake all night, and to call out it was an operator assisted call for anything further than Metro Manila. Still there was always breakfast....

And breakfast is another story.

I popped down at 7 am as advertised, to be greeted warmly by a the waitress and offered the menu, all with numbers of course and a choice of an American, Japanese, or Filipino breakfast. I ordered the Filipino breakfast, and waited for it to arrive.. After 10 minutes I received the coffee and enquired when my food may actually arrive, to be informed that they were sorry but the cook had slept in. However, all was not lost and he had been roused from his slumbers and he was coming down very soon.. After another 10 minutes a very dishevelled Japanese man loped into the breakfast room , laces undone and buttoning up his tunic. Obviously very pissed off at being woken up, he nevertheless presented a very acceptable breakfast in between much Japanese cussing....

Getting a cab in Manila centre is not an enormous problem, however the peak time traffic jams seemed almost worse than Kuala Lumpur and Bangkok. Two meetings in Metro Manila were easy to get to, but a meeting at Makati took 90 minutes. In Metro Manila, the two main negotiators were female, reminding me of my initial conclusion 6 years ago that women have a higher profile in business here than in many other Asian countries. Georgina was a Stanford graduate running a booming trade business, who ran the meeting very professionally, calling on her male colleagues to comment when asked. The meeting went fantastically well, with many smiles all around and reassuring comments on the economic turnaround in the Philippines. Dinner was suggested, and a time made for all at a restaurant near the Hotel CoCo for later. Assuring me that yes there were nice restaurants in Metro Manila, they smiled at my account of breakfast in the morning and offered to book me into the Peninsula. I declined for the moment, besides the Hotel CoCo was starting to grow on me. If only for the choir, all dressed up in choir gear, practising their choruses on the 4th floor lift lobby as I left this morning.

The restaurant with Georgina, Ricky and Alfonse, plus a mixture of 6 extra dinner companions that seemed to get invited in the 3 ensuing hours between the meeting and dinner was a rollicking success. Two tables were booked out in an al fresco setting in an old Spanish style square just 10 minutes walk from the CoCo. We were serenaded by costumed Carol Singers underneath an enormous Christmas tree festooned with fairy lights and conversation that ranged from Manila politics to wine and religion set the scene for a fairly woosy feeling later on. Munching on my Paella, crammed with fresh seafood, I started to feel even more favourably disposed to this confusing place. Yep, Manila is polluted, has all the signs of decay, violence always suggested with gun toting guards very obvious outside every retail business, the people retain a wonderful sense of optimism and passion which I guess is something to do with their history. As Alfonse said.. a few decades in a convent, a few in a brothel, a few in an army camp..!

The Spanish wine in its little wicker basket getting the better of me, my suggestions that I walk back to the hotel was rejected rudely and Georgina and her sister insisted on accompanying me on the walk home.