manila in 3 days of perpetual confusion food coma and questionable life choices

woke up to the sound of a barista yelling something about ceviche at 7 am. not sure if that’s normal but i’m here for it. it’s that weird time where your body feels like a glitch tumbling over itself but you drag ass out of bed anyway becauseeskimo is only a few blocks away and you want to die but also live. weather apps said it’s 23.05c here but my skin feels like it’s been wrapped in a wet sock. not even accurate. stays like that. just stayed like that. if you hate humidity so much that it physically hurts you could’ve just not been born here. i checked a mushroom for rain and it had a job interview to prepare for. weird.

someone told me the locals here sleep in hammocks even in their balconies. i laughed but now i’m second-guessing why i’m living in a world where people don’t own mattresses. maybe it’s true. maybe the hum here is louder than your expectations. neighbors just yell random chinese at 2 am. not because they’re rude but because nobody else knows how to exist in a soundproof space. if you get bored this place is just a short drive away from manila’s chaos or whatever. don’t ask me why manila’s the easy answer to everything.

i heard that if you walk too far without a map you’ll end up in a place called karangalang where the streets are haunted by lost shopping carts. i didn’t believe it but then i saw a cart from 2007 near a fried fish stall and that was my loss. reviews on a nearby food blog said the best halo-halo is actually made by a guy who also owns a bike shop. dialed him. he said to ignore the reviews and just ask for the one with the suspiciously red cup. worked. now i’m told the real hive is closed on weekends. hippie logic.

click here for map of manila’s weirdest corners:

i’ve been here 72 hours and still no idea why i chose this neighborhood. the view is terrible but the smell of scooter exhaust keeps me distracted. sometimes i wonder if this is what the universe means when it says ‘life is like a soup.’

overheard a tourist saying this street food market’s worst vendor is actually a chef with a PhD in botany. she was wrong. they’re all pros at one thing or another. the one who sells tahong na isocal to me and called it a mistake. turned out it was his grandma’s recipe. that makes him a hero or a liar? i’m just paid to exist here.

if you’re into nonsense photos check these out:

i tried taking a selfie with the sun and it yelled at me. so maybe stick to backlighting.

a drunk guy at a bar told me the real el pullao spot is off-grid and guarded by pangolins. i didn’t believe him but now i’m walking around asking strangers about pangolins. they all say it’s a myth. except that one tito on the jeepney who threw rice at me. respect.

links to help you survive: triptadvisor for manila street food yelp for local hostels reddit manila digital nomad tips if you need existential advice just ask the guy selling balut. he knows everything.

still walking.Still. Confused. Maybe this is what life is supposed to be like? Humid. Loud. Sticky. Maybe. maybe not.

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