I am sitting at the ‘Hotel Lounge’ outside the Manila Airport at 11pm, after traveling for 17 hours. I’m trying to comprehend what it means that my name is not down on the Holiday Inn’s manifesto. Apparently, it means that the Holiday Inn has no record of my reservation and, therefore, I cannot get in a taxi for the hotel. Why can’t I just go there and ask them for a room? I’m confused.
The hotel taxi coordinator is very nice and very apologetic and he’s walking around calling every hotel in Manila trying to find a room. I calmly but firmly let him know that I need to be at the Holiday Inn. I am meeting people there. I am meeting people there in 7 hours! And I’m exhausted. The taxi coordinator takes pity and after some time negotiating with the Holiday Inn, he tells me that they have a room available and packs me into an overly air conditioned van and sends me on my way with a final apology. I thank him profusely, as it was not his fault that my reservation was never confirmed.
Though I’ve traveled a bit in the last year, it has been a while since I’ve been in a place completely devoid of traffic rules. Not since Guinea, I think. South Africa, Botswana, Ecuador, Italy, Mexico: they all follow some rules, even though at times they seem crazy. Not in the Phillipines. They have lane markings, but no one follows them. It’s a random assortment of cars traveling at the same speed, very closely together. The drivers weave. Or they drift. Passing a car is a leap of faith because you are never sure if it will start migrating into your lane as you make your move. Finally we arrive at the Holiday Inn, where all they have is a studio suite. It costs five times as much as the room I ‘booked’, but I don’t care. I’m in bed, swallowing a sleeping pill by 1am.
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