I guess it was bound to happen. Working from 11 p.m. to 8 a.m. the past couple days has been challenging enough since I've had to readjust my sleep schedule again. Yesterday, I came home, ate breakfast, then slept from around 10 to 12, watched Eastern Promises (good movie by the way), worked out, then slept again from 7 to 10, and headed into work. It would be nice to get some solid, unbroken sleep.

Anyway, by the end of my shift I was exhausted and looking forward to going home and getting some rest. The shuttle van my company provides was supposed to pick me up at 8:30, so I had to wait 30 minutes. Okay, I wasn't thrilled about that, but I waited anyway. By 8:45 I'd given up waiting since I was nodding to sleep on the sidewalk in front of work. I stood up, stepped out into the street and the rain, and hailed a taxi. The ride itself was smooth, and the driver didn't ostensibly try to rip me off. The problem came when we entered Rockwell. The smallest bill I had on me was 1000 pesos ($20 US), and the driver didn't have change.

"All right," I said. "You don't have change?" I looked over the seat at the meter. It read 80 pesos. "Okay. Eighty pesos," I said. "I'll be right back."

I ran into the 7-Eleven at my building and asked for change, but they didn't have it. I ran across the street to Figaro. Same problem. When I came back out into the rain, the driver had pulled up in front of the coffee shop. Apparently, he was afraid I was going to stiff him. I got back in.

"Drive up the block," I said. "There's a bank around the corner."

He drove me to the bank. I looked over the seat. The meter was still running. Scum.

We pulled up in front of the bank, and I ran up to the ATM. I didn't want to take money out because of international service fees, but I was wiped out and wanted to go home, so I did it. I took out 4oo pesos, expecting four 100 peso bills. Instead, the ATM spat out two 200 peso bills. Nice. To hell with it. I walked back down to the cab and opened the door. I held out the bill.

"Do you have change for this?" I snapped. Yes. It was a rhetorical question.

He pulled out a 100 peso bill. The meter read 90 now. He also held a twenty and smaller bills in his other hand. Nice. He was giving himself a tip. A whopping 40 cents.

"Choke on it," I barked.

I snatched the hundred out of his hand, tossed the 200 at him, and slammed the door. I'd actually planned on giving him a hundred anyway since he hadn't tried to screw me until it came time to pay, but now I was pissed. It was a two dollar cab ride with the tip, so the money was never the issue; the attitude was; the sense of entitlement, of getting over. Are you telling me no one in this damned city has change for twenty bucks?!?! I'm sure the stores didn't want to give it to me because I wasn't patronizing them at the time even though I'd been to both places several times before.

I'm still disgusted. I could take nine cab rides here for the price of one in New York, and that's not including the New York tip. I'm still floored at how these bastards are scrounging for pennies. It creates a lot of unnecessary aggravation for me and every other foreigner of whom they try to take advantage. I actually sympathize with their plight, but they're not dealing with it the right way. I guess they figure they'll never see the passenger again anyway, so get what you can from them while they're there. It's just sleazy.

Labels: ATM, cab, Eastern Promises, Figaro, international bank fees, Manila, New York, pesos, poverty, ripoff, Rockwell, sleep deprivation, taxi, work. 7-Eleven

Well, after much anticipation, I'm here. The flight was long and taxing, but it was the most pleasant one I've had yet. Wednesday morning, the car service I booked online picked me up promptly at 7:30 a.m. and took me to JFK. I met up with one of my coworkers, who's also on the same assignment, and we hung out in the first class lounge for British Airways courtesy of Cathay Pacific Airlines.

We boarded about 9:45 and took off on time at 10:10. Pretty Asian flight attendants served a number of Chinese and gourmet meals and snacks. When I wasn't busy stuffing myself, I watched a couple of the latest movies on the pull out 18 inch flat panel monitors with which every seat was equipped. My seat had the ability to recline completely, but I didn't make much use of that feature though I did fall asleep several times. In any case, by the time I arrived in Manila I was very sleep deprived.

We had a layover in Hong Kong for about two and a half hours. After getting the wrong directions to the business lounge a couple times, we passed through another security check. They confiscated the bottled water I received on my first flight for some reason, and of course I was thirsty now. It was a little unsettling to see some people walking around wearing face masks—mostly flight attendants—but I suppose I can't blame them. I'm not too concerned about a virus killing me, but I hate getting sick.

Hong Kong looks very impressive from the air, by the way. I would definitely like to spend some time there while I'm in this region of the world. Who knows when I'll get the opportunity to visit it again?

The second leg of my trip was brief—only about 90 minutes—but I fell asleep for a few minutes during that flight as well. By the time we landed at Ninoy Aquino International Airport, I was a bit haggard. Immigration was smooth, but there was some confusion with the luggage I had checked. That kept us delayed at the airport longer than we should have been, but one of the porters managed to locate it for me, so it was only a minor snag. Customs was quick, and we were on our way.

We had instructions to proceed to the AVIS counter located just outside the airport exit where we would be transported to the Rockwell Center. The nature of these instructions was a little vague. I naturally assumed we would be driven, but that wasn't explicitly stated, and it's been my experience that assumptions aren't always accurate. But when we approached the counter, the girl behind the Plexiglas looked at me and said, “Mr. Dunn?” Was it that obvious? They were expecting us, of course. That was great because I was way too tired to have to do much thinking.

Our driver's name was Jhun, and he was friendly and courteous. He was apologetic about the fact that it was rush hour and traffic was heavy. Still, we made it to Rockwell in about twenty to twenty-five minutes. Jhun dropped me off at Manansala Tower, and I approached the front desk, which was manned by two security guards. They were absolutely clueless as to the whereabouts of the keys to my apartment even though they had my name and room number clearly written down in a ledger.

“Is there a problem?” I asked, cranky and somewhat annoyed.

“The receptionist is on break, sir,” one of the men said as they both continued rifling through drawers and folders for my keys.

I rolled my eyes and looked around, taking in my surroundings. About ten minutes later, a pretty Filipino girl appeared. She greeted me with a smile, verified my name, and pulled out a bag with my information packet and keys with an ease that made the guards look clueless. I'll cut them some slack, though. It's not their job to check people in, just check people. The bellhop took my bags, showed me up to my room, and left before giving me a chance to tip him.
I settled in, took a shower, and called Randy, who I mentioned in a previous post. He was working and would be off at midnight. He suggested a bunch of us get together for drinks. I was all for it, but when midnight came I was too tired and had to cancel.

I fell asleep around 12:30 then woke just before 4 a.m. That was it. I couldn't get back to sleep. I got online and called my family via Skype. I have a free month of Skype to land-line calls, and it works pretty well.

After awhile of lounging around the apartment and eating the food from the fruit basket that awaited me when I arrived, I decided to venture outside and get a sense of what things were like here. I walked out in shorts, sandals, and a t-shirt. I figured I'd just get some necessities and maybe a bite to eat. Most of the people I encountered wished me a good morning. Native New Yorkers aren't accustomed to strangers bidding them “good morning.”

I walked around a bit and realized I have no idea where I'm going. It was very hot and humid. I found a Starbucks about two blocks away. A security guard or cop—I didn't have the presence of mind to determine which—opened the door for me. I ordered a venti mocha Frappuccino and a bagel with bacon, egg, and cheese. Total cost: 245 pesos or $5.11 US. The drink was as I had expected it, but the bacon on the sandwich was tough and chewy and not what I would consider good.

After breakfast, I started back to the apartment since the sandals were hurting my feet. I stopped off at a gourmet deli on the way and bought a couple bottles of water, totaling 50 pesos or $1.04 US. Not bad. It would seem everything here is roughly half price.

That's it for now. I'm going to get ready to head out with my work buddies in a little while. It should be quite interesting. I'm glad I know a few people here already who can show me around.

Labels: Hong Kong, Makati, Manila, pesos, Rockwell, Starbucks