Saturday, 11 February 2017
After lunch, a taxi to Binondo, where Chinatown is.
It had to be a taxi as I couldn’t see any jeepneys or tricycles around (as I
said, this is an ‘atas’ area). Taxis are by far the most expensive thing in
Manila. Apart from that, things are relatively cheap, cheaper than in Malaysia.
The Chinatown in Binondo is apparently 400 years old, and is said to be
the oldest Chinatown in the world. It is situated deliberately within firing
range of Intramuros's cannons, because apparently the Spanish conquerors did
not trust the Chinese. I walked around the streets of Chinatown for a bit, and
it reminded me of our very own Petaling Street – not very clean, noisy,
bustling with activity, and not a Chinese pedlar in sight! I saw the local
delicacy ‘balud’ – duck foetus in an egg. I didn’t try. There are limits to my
adventures.
Then, after asking for directions, I took a jeepney to Malacañang Palace. Although
the gates were open, I was not allowed into the grounds, and not allowed even
to take photographs. I had to be content with photographs from outside the
palace gates. Nasty creeps. As if I’m a CIA spy measuring the dimensions of the
palace in preparation of a siege! In my irritation I informed the guards that
in Malaysia one could visit the King’s palace at any time! I bet that lie would
have thrown the guards off guard.
Jeepney again to my last destination, Rizal Park. This
park is named after Jose Rizal, one of the national heroes of the Philippines.
There was the Rizal Monument, where Jose Rizal lies buried, and the 0 kilometer
mark.
And then I was done! A jeepney back to my hotel, except
again it dropped me off at the wrong Robinsons and I had to take a Grab back to
my hotel. More beers and then off to bed.
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