'disneyland with the death penalty'

Singapore is one of the most successful and prosperous countries in world. According to the quality-of-life index assembled by the Economic Intelligence Unit, it has the highest standard of living in Asia, and is ranked eleventh in the World. It's well ordered, rationally laid out, impeccably maintained, stylish, modern, and very clean. Look up at the sky line and you see futuristic skyscrapers where big business is done. Look down at ground level and you see well preserved colonial era buildings where small business is thriving. Big or small, everywhere there is business.

The Singapore community is a successful gell of four communities: Malays, Chinese, Indians, and Westerners. All four are well represented but it is the Chinese who dominate, accounting for almost seventy seven percent of the population. The Chinese in particular flocked to Singapore in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries to escape turmoil and poverty in China, and in hope of a better life.

In some places they speak Chinese, in some Tamil, and others Malay, but everywhere English is common and understood. Many speak what has become known as 'Singlish' which consists of pidgin English, adding in Hokkien, Cantonese and Malay words, and with a grammar and ordering of words which is slightly altered from standard English. So people say things like, 'can speak English good lah?' or, 'dis country weather very hot, one,' or even, 'he play soccer very good also one leh,' to take but three examples. Singlish is discouraged by the government and there are even signs requesting that citizens speak good English, and a Speak Good English Movement.

From what I've learnt over the past few days, Singapore is the product of two strong-willed and pioneering men: Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles, and Lee Kwan Yew. Raffles arrived in 1819, and established a South East Asian trading hub for the British Empire. In doing so he put Singapore on the world stage and gave it a world business name. Cambridge educated Lee Kwan Yew* became Prime Minister of Singapore in 1959. At that time it was reliant on other nations, had unemployment problems, and no natural resources or land. During his premiership (lasting thirty one years) a massive industrialisation programme was pushed through, unemployment disappeared, and an ambitious housing/urban regeneration programme led to the world's highest rate of homeownership (not to mention excellent housing). Under Lee Kwan Yew, Singapore went from Third World to First in just over a quarter of a century.

However, all this progress has come at a cost, and that cost has been freedom of speech and freedom of choice for the average Singaporean. I met an old man on a park bench and he told me, rather bitterly, that in Singapore you 'can make money but can no open your mouth.' Singapore is a place where public demonstrations and dissent from the government are difficult, sometimes impossible. People here aren't presented with choices regarding how their society is developed, they're told how it's going to be. Lucky for them the government has, until now, done an amazing job.

I've spent two days in Singapore. I've found it fascinating. I entered by coach, crossing the bridge which connects Malaysia and Singapore, and which leads into the Woodlands Immigration Terminal. Woodlands looks like a futuristic space ship which has come to rest on the edge of the island. Instead of containing space aliens it is full of efficient and courteous immigration officers ready to stamp your passport and wish you well on your holiday. It took me about a minute and a half to pass through and be complimented - that's the way to do it.

My first day was taken up looking around the old colonial district, which was built in Raffles day. I went and saw the Raffles Hotel, St Andrew's Cathedral, City Hall, the Supreme Court, the Singapore Cricket Club, the Victoria Concert Theatre, and the spot on the harbour where Raffles first landed. I thought of television antiques dealer David Dickinson as I stood outside the Raffles Hotel. I believe it was to Raffles he went last year to recuperate after his stint on 'I'm A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here.' In the afternoon I went to Orchard Road, the shopping mecca, and wandered in and out of some of the many shopping malls and stores. I think every shop on earth must be on the street. I didn't buy anything, just had a good wander round looking at things I don't need.

On my second day I went to the Central Business District and stood at the feet of giants. The skyscapers were magnificent, although there's not much to do other than stand next to them and feel small. I also went down to the quays and saw the gentrified restaurants and bars, reminding me of the re-developed dock areas in London. In the afternoon I went to China Town. Whilst in the area I went to the Thian Hock Keng Temple (Hokkien), the Sri Mariammaan Temple (the oldest Hindu Temple in Singapore), and the Chinese Heritage Centre which I found very interesting. They've got some great displays, and it's quite an honest telling of the Chinese story on the island.

I stayed over in Little India for three nights. Not at a hotel this time, but at a homestay called Ali's Nest. Ali is a delightful Singaporean who rents out a couple of rooms in his family home to passing backpackers. He's an absolute mine of information, and provides you with a free breakfast and chat each morning. It was brilliant staying with him and his family and I suggest to anyone else venturing to Singapore to do the same.

Singapore is undoubtedly much more expensive than the other countries I've visited, but it is possible to visit on a budget if you stay and eat at the right places. Staying with Ali was a fraction of the cost of the Singapore hotels and he was able to recommend a glut of local restaurants which served very good food, and which were only marginally more expensive than those in neighbouring Malaysia (I'd particularly recommend the A:1 Restaurant on Birch Road where I had arguably the best curry of my life and the best service). If you want to spend money here you will have no problems emptying your pockets, but if you want to be more careful it's also quite possible.

The weather hasn't been so good over the last few days. It rained particularly hard on Monday afternoon: there was a spectular thunder storm; I noticed standing under cover that some of the sky-scrapers actually start to steam in the rain! Hopefully it will ease off a bit now I'm a bit further north, so enough moaning.

Here's the statistical lowdown on Singapore:

Full name: Republic of Singapore
Population: 4.4 million (UN, 2005)
Capital: Singapore
Area: 660 sq km (255 sq miles)
Major languages: English, Malay, Mandarin, Tamil
Major religions: Taoism, Buddhism, Islam, Christianity
Life expectancy: 77 years (men), 80 years (women) (UN)
Monetary unit: 1 Singapore dollar = 100 cents
Main exports: Computer equipment, machinery, rubber products, petroleum products
GNI per capita: US $27,490 (World Bank, 2006)
Internet domain: .sg
International dialling code: +65

* What does Lee Kwan Yew have in common with James Bond? They both have double firsts from Cambridge University.

a quick stop in malaysia

Greetings from Kuala Lumpur. I made the flight over yesterday from the Philippines and arrived safe and sound in the world's fifth best airport (that's official) just after 9pm. The flight was competently handled, and I was happy to reflect this in my customer service questionaire gradings.

It was a very worthwhile flight for me actually, because we flew across Borneo whilst still in daylight, and alongside one of it's greatest wonders: Mount Kinabalu. Mount Kinabalu is four thousand one hundred and one metres high, and towers above the (shrinking) tropical forests of Borneo. By chance, I was already looking out of the window as we approached (trying to make out the almost visible ground below) when the pilot spoke over the public address system. 'Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls,' he said, sounding more children's entertainer than pilot. 'If you look to your right you'll see Mount Kinabalu, the largest mountain this side of the Himalayas.' I looked up, and further round, thinking there were only clouds, and that we were surely too high to see anything, when I caught sight of the most enormous thing I've ever seen. Mount Kinabalu, looking back across at me, and towering well above the clouds. Huge, barren, brown, a feat of nature: it was actually rather frightening to look at. The clouds, which didn't look so big now, hugged areas of rockside. It seemed the sort of environment where you'd find King Kong or Godzilla hanging around. I was so pleased and lucky to see it, and to enjoy such a stunning aerial view was a real treat.

We landed for about half an hour in Kota Kinabalu a bit further south in Sabah (the northern half of Borneo) to take a sick baby on board. The poor thing was wheeled on calmly and quietly in an incubator, and never heard from during the rest of the flight. Along with the other passengers, I was allowed to disembark and wander around the airport until we were ready to fly again.

To celebrate having made it through another leg of my journey, once I'd checked in to my hotel in Kuala Lumpur (called Le Village), I went over to a local establishment called the Reggae Bar. It was after 11pm so it was just a quick nightcap. I've made a point, as I've been travelling around, to try the national beer of the country I'm visiting, and thought Malaysia should be no exception. I wondered what I would find as Malaysia is a Muslim country, but wagered there would be something. I was disappointed to find that the Reggae Bar only had two beers in stock: Carlsberg and a lager called 'Bavarian.'

'Bavarian?' I said to the barmaid slightly sarcastically, 'is that a Malaysian beer? I'm after a Malaysian beer.'

'No. It's Dutch,' she said confusingly, and showed me the label to prove it.

I reluctantly had two glasses of Carlsberg.

Today I've been making arrangements. Tomorrow morning, at 9am, I'm catching a bus to Singapore. This will take five hours. I'm staying in Singapore until 28 November when I'll catch another bus back up to Kuala Lumpur. The following day (29 November) I have an afternoon flight to Kuching (Southern Borneo) booked. I'm going to spend a week or so in Kuching and travelling northwards through Borneo until I reach Brunei. I should reach Brunei on 7 December, and will spend a few days looking around, before flying back to Kuala Lumpur on the afternoon of 11 December. This will bring me back to KL two days prior to the arrival of my friend Raj who will be joining me on my travels until 2 January. We will then explore Peninsular Malaysia together. A bit more of the jigsaw has been put in place, a bit more planning is complete. Even got my washing done today.

Forgot to mention earlier: I have some bad and good news. Bad news: realised in Boracay that I've lost my lovely turquoise swimming trunks. Damn it. I was very happy with those. Very happy. But good news: also established in Boracay that my running shorts can function as a perfectly adequate replacement. I'm not a hundred percent but I reckon the trunks are on a washing line up in Chiang Mai. Anyway, bugger. And these things happen.

a philippino joke

Exec Sec Zamora: Sir, puwede bang palitan 'tong laptop ko?
Erap: Bakit?
Zamora: Masyadong mabigat, eh!
Erap: Ba't di ka mag-delete ng files para gumaan?

The old ones are the best.

south to cebu

The flight from Boracay to Cebu City went smoothly on Sunday. I had to island hop back onto the Panay mainland (Caticlan), but this didn't take long. If I'd known how close the airport was to the shore when I arrived I'd have walked over, but I didn't so I got a motorbike and sidecar to the terminal. This amounted to a thirty second drive, and a hard bang on the head. The sidecar had a low tin roof and we hit a deep pothole at speed. 'Watch your head sir,' the driver said after the event.

The flight down was pleasant. The aeroplane was small and there were only about eight passengers on board. You could see the captain sat up at the front doing the flying and fiddling with the controls. Because the plane had propellers, as opposed to jet engines, it made an old fashioned plane-like sound as we flew. It was mid-afternoon, and a clear day, so I was able to gaze down out of the window as we flew over Panay, Negros, and finally Cebu. My eyes were peeled for another volcano but I didn't spot one.

I got a taxi from the airport, and soon discovered the taxi driver was a Pet Shop Boys fan. Their greatest hits blasted out on his CD player as we drove into the city proper. 'You always wanted a lover... I only wanted a job... I've always worked for my living... How am I gonna get through?' We had a chat about the Philippino film industry as we went. He took me to the Pacific Pension on Osmena Boulevard, 'the place to come in Cebu - for safety, comfort, and convenience.' At least so says their business card. It's a good little hotel, and they have a restaurant with some interesting local dishes, which is terrific because there seems to be a general dearth of restaurants around the city.

Cebu is quite a significant place: Ferdinand Magellan landed here when he first 'discovered' the Philippines in 1519, making this the place the beginning point of all the numerous foreign influences which have subsequently shaped Philippino history. Cebu City is the second largest city in the Philippines with a population of seven hundred and twenty thousand.

I've been doing a bit of sightseeing of course. Have walked down to the Basilica Minore del Santo Nino, built in 1740, which contains the Santo Nino Statuette. The Santo Nino Statuette is the oldest and most important religious relic in the Philippines. It's a small doll dressed in red, supposed to be an image of Jesus as a child, which was given by Ferdinand Magellan to Queen Juana of Cebu in 1521 when she was Baptised a Catholic. A very significant event in national history as it marks the beginning of Christianity and Catholicism in the Philippines. This was the moment when it began to take. I can't say I found the doll particularly pretty. It's head looked like that of a modern plastic doll. As I looked at it I wondered whether the eyes would close if you tilted the head back?

I've also been to Cebu Cathedral, a similarly pretty Spanish-style church to the Basilica, and to Fort San Pedro, a small triangular fort built by the Spaniards in 1565 as a defence against pirates. I liked Fort San Pedro rather more than Fort Santiago in Manila. It's more pretty - perhaps because it's so small, perhaps because the gardens inside are so well kept and colourful. Some blind singers sang as I wandered the ramparts.

My time in the Philippines is almost over. It's flown by, but I feel I've seen what I wanted to see, and done what I wanted to do, so I'm ready to move on. I hope Malaysia (next stop) has a more interesting visa stamp waiting for me than the Philippino immigration officers did: my only disappointment since arrival in the archipeligo. Bit more sightseeing today and tomorrow, and then I fly over to Kuala Lumpur.

boracay

I'm at White Beach on the tiny island of Boracay, just off the coast of Panay, and it's paradise. It's exactly my kind of beach resort. The sand is white. The sea a calm, clear turquoise. Bangcas float up and down just off shore. The sun is scorching and the sky is blue. Just behind the beach is a white sand promenade separated from the sunbathers by a thin green belt of palm trees. An occasional coconut falls to the ground. Clonk. Sympathetic seafood restaurants and guesthouses galore line the secluded and shaded promenade. It's all laid back, and there are just the right amount of people here, many of them seemingly Philippino.

The pressure is off me for a couple of days. There are no sights on the island except the beach. No culture except tourist beach culture. And no cuisine except well prepared, and massively portioned tourist fare. I don't have to work hard at getting around or worry about whether what I am doing is cultural or educational. I just have to relax, tan, and read my new book: The Heart of the Matter by Graham Greene. Just what I need, having had a busy period so far out here in the Philippines. I plan to go for a nice long run along the beach tomorrow morning.

Sitting here now in such a beautiful location it seems inconceivable that I should leave somewhere so wonderful in just two days. Far more reasonable, it seems, that I should just stay here forever.

I've checked in to the Orchids Resort, a pretty two storey courtyard of balconied rattan rooms. In the centre of the courtyard is a beautiful tropical garden. My room is very cheap, but I still had a go at bargaining the owner down. I put in an opening offer a hundred pesos below the room rate.

'I've just been next door to Roy's Rendevous Bungalows and he has a brand new block of rooms which also have television,' I said, not mentioning that they had no character, and that I didn't want a television. 'It's only a tiny bit extra than your wooden rooms.'

'Go there then,' said the owner putting me in my place.

'How about four fifty? Could I have it for four fifty? I'd take it for four fifty,' I added upping my offer by fifty pesos.

'No,' he said curtly.

I paused and looked into space for a moment, hoping this would somehow help change things.

'OK. I'll take it.' I said eventually, a lesson in how not to bargain.

Actually, I shouldn't be too hard on myself. The room was already about two thirds cheaper than most of the hotels here, and priced exactly as my Lonely Planet suggested, so I was perhaps going a bit too far in trying to get it down even lower. The guy has to eat.

Speaking of which, a big breakfast, followed by a day on a tropical beach, awaits. It would be criminal to sit here blogging all day, so this blog entry must now come to end. It's time to get out there and catch some rays, and say my first 'really it's a lovely bracelet but no thank you. No. No thank you. Really no thank you,' of the day.

the south china and visayan seas

(manila - bacolod - illoillos city - caticlan - boracay)

At 3pm on Tuesday I boarded Super Ferry 2 in Manila's South Harbour just behind the famous Manila Hotel. I was at the beginning of a twenty eight hour journey towards Boracay, which I was to share with a thousand Philippinos.

Our route took us from Manila down through the South China Sea, passing Mindoro, on to the Visayan Sea, first between the islands of Panay and Masbate, and then between Panay and Negros. We stopped at Bacolod to drop off some passengers, and next went to Illoillos City in Panay, which was my stop. We arrived safe and sound just after 8pm on Wednesday.

During the journey I was housed in a shared domitory area holding one hundred people. The dormitory was filled with closely arranged bunks, each with a thin leather mattress on top (I was too long for mine, something I had anticipated). To the left hand side by the exit was a television showing, amongst other things, Philippino 'Deal or No Deal.' I watched for a while, and noted that the available prize money was much much less than Noel Edmonds gives away, and the set looked more like 'Who Wants To Be A Millionaire.'

My bunk was just about in the middle of the dorm. In the bunk next to me was little baby Gerrard, nine months old, and on his way back to Mindanao with his Mama. Gerrard quickly became fascinated by the big white man laying next to him, and came over to see me every now and then to play games, do some reading, fiddle with my calculator, or to occasionally belt me around the head whilst giggling and squealing. Sometimes, just to vary things, he would cry extremely loudly, but he was so cute I enjoyed even this.

Gerrard went to bed early on Tuesday night, so left him to it and went and had a few San Miguel beers on my own in the ship's bar. I spent most my evening watching people sing Karaoke. I use the word 'sing' in a very loose sense. They were hilarious. Renditions of 'House of the Rising Sun.' Eminem. Mariah Carey. And more power ballards than you could count. I had to check my ears for bleeding several times. To be fair, there was one girl who almost bordered on adequate at one point, but her downfall was her intent to work through Witney Houston's entire back catalogue. Some of the numbers proved beyond her range, and she kept missing the big notes. She plugged on though. I'll give her that.

As well as Gerrard, I also got to know a guy (and his family) who lives in Illoillos. When the ship docked we caught a taxi together into the city. I was dropped off at a convenient but grim guesthouse called the Family Pension House. I wouldn't want my family staying there, and I'm glad I only stayed for the night.

This morning I caught an early bus up from Illoillos to Caticlan, taking me all the way across the island of Panay. Panay has some lovely scenary. It looks a healthy place to live. Everywhere tall green trees, and flourishing plantlife, and every now and then a tidy looking village of traditional bamboo or rattan houses with well tended gardens. At Caticlan I caught a bangcas across to Boracay and here I am. My final destination for the moment (two and a half days).

And that brings me up to date for now. Just to note, I've read another book: The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway.

a visit to a fortune teller

I'm still not quite sure what I'm going to do after this trip, and can't seem to make any clear decisions on what next. I'm a planner by nature so I want to know what's happening, and, really, I need some answers. Being a sensible and rational kind of guy, I've taken matters into my own hands and done the logical thing: I've been to a Philippino fortune teller to find out my future.

The Philippines is a religious country, predominantly Catholic, and spiritualism has something of a stronghold. Faith healers, psychics, fortune tellers, and tribal shaman, all do a thriving trade, and are regularly consulted for advice on what colours to wear, what medicine to take, and whether or not to put a hundred pesos on 'Don't call me Derek' in the 3.30 at Chepstow. It's a country where people can be possessed by demons, a place where spirits wander and watch over. What we would call old fashioned superstition is alive, well, popular, and believed in these parts.

The Manila fortune tellers congregate in the square outside the Quiapo Church, and yesterday I made a visit to one of them to ask her to tell me about my future. Elvira, an old woman wearing a red bandana and with no upper front teeth, cheerfully told me that I might get married and within the next couple of years. If I do I will only marry once, and to a woman whose name begins with either a 'C' or an 'L'. My wife will have to be intelligent and educated for the marriage to work. If we choose to have children we will have two: a boy and a girl, although there is an outside chance I might father three. In business, I will be initially successful, and 2007 will be an especially good time (as long as I don't start a business abroad), but as I get older I will lose all my money and won't be wealthy in old age. The money will be brief and passing. I asked her if I would do more travel or live abroad in the future? She answered helpfully: 'you may, or you may not.' She also read my palm and told me I had a long life line (when is anyone ever told they have a short life line?), and that I was a kind and helpful person, but can have a bad streak. I must watch out for insecure people, they may be my downfall, and it may turn out to be my family who lose me all my money. Elvira thought it likely I would buy a car before long, and also told me to watch my cholesterol.

It's an eery feeling, knowing the rest of your life before it's happened, so to re-orientate myself I went for a wander around the Quiapo district. It's a poor and dirty area with a lot of traffic and a lot of garbage. I walked through and then on to the Malacanang Palace, which is the official residence of the President of the Philippines. I wanted to take a photograph but was told I wan't allowed by an armed guard. It's a large, modern, and uninspiring two storey building set in pretty gardens. The current resident is Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo. She's been President since 2001 when she took over from President Joseph Estrada, a populist and former B-movie actor, who had to take a break in his term of office to go to jail (he'd been accepting massive sums of money from gambling cartels). Incidentally, the Malacanang Palace is where those shoes were found after Ferdinand and Imelda fled to Hawaii in 1986, their tyranny and gross personal extravagance finally exhausted.

Yesterday, I also booked a cheap flight from Boracay (my next but one location) to Cebu City (my final location), meaning all my travel links through the Philippines are now confirmed and in place. I toyed with the idea of another ferry ride down to Cebu but they take so long it would eat unreasonably into my remaining time. The flight only takes an hour, cost nothing, and will afford me more quality time in Cebu City...where I can keep my eye out for a woman whose name begins with a 'C' or an 'L.'

the taal volcano

I've just finished having an early breakfast at my hotel. An annoying American man called Bill was my companion throughout. Bill's great: he's been everywhere and knows it all about absolutely everything. You name it, he can shout you down on it. Many of his stories revolve around scrapes he's got himself into in South East Asia. He seems to have inspired a fair bit of hostility as he's proceeded. 'Can you believe the guy wanted to punch me?' ended one of his anecdotes. 'I'm thinking about doing the same right now,' I thought.

Yesterday I left Manila and headed south to Talisay. My mission was to climb a live volcano. I got a Jeepney from my hotel to Baclaran, and found a waiting air-conditioned coach lined up and ready to leave. I hopped on and enjoyed the straightforward hour long journey south. On the way down I noticed a sign displaying more Philippino humour. It was the sign of an army barracks and read as follows:

ARMY OF THE PHILIPPINES

3rd BATTALION BARRACKS

STRICTLY NO ENTRY

TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT

SURVIVORS WILL BE SHOT...AGAIN

I can't imagine an official sign like that on MOD property in the UK, more's the pity. It kept me chuckling until we reached my stop at Tagaytay.

At Tagaytay I hailed a motorbike and sidecar, and hired the driver, Edwin, for the afternoon. He rode me at break neck speed the ten or so kilometres down to Talisay. As we pulled away the heavens opened and it began to pour with heavy rain. It bucketed down. The sidecar had a roof to it, but it was only moderately successful in keeping me dry. At one point, I grasped my Hollyoaks rucksack, opening it to check my Lonely Planet was not getting too water damaged. At the precise moment I did so we hit a large puddle which sprayed a jet of water up and down through the open top of the bag. Only one word to for it. Shit.

We arrived in Talisay, pulling up at the waters edge of Lake Taal, and the God's were merciful and laid the rain off for a few hours. The Taal Volcano is located on an island in the middle of Lake Taal, which is itself the watery innard of an even larger, non-active volcano. I had a massive lunch of fish and rice by the shore, and then boarded a bangcas (a small outrigger pumpboat). We began the journey across the lake, and the driver pumped up the volume on his stereo: Guns N Roses and a smattering of Philippino pop music. Words can't really do justice to beauy of the location; you'll have to trust me when I say it was magnificent.

Once on the island I hired a horse and guide and rode up the volcano, mindful that there have been thirty three recorded violent eruptions since 1572, the most devastating in 1911 which claimed a thousand lives. Taal last blew in 1977, the year of my birth. In light of it's eruptive history, and proximity to human population, it has been designated a 'Decade Volcano' by the authorities, meaning it is needy of indepth research and constant monitoring. We reached the top. The horse had some water. The guide had a coke. I paid. The view into the crater was well worth the climb. Looking down you could see what at first appearance looked like another smaller lake, but on close scrutiny you could see it bubbling and spitting away. I stood and gazed for a while telling myself: 'appreciate this please.'

We then rode slowly back down and, once back at the shore, I dismounted and started to wander slowly over to my bangcas to make the return trip. As I did so, I saw the guy who had driven me over sprint like his life depended on it at the boat. He then launched himself from a bit of wood up and in to the small hull. 'Funny,' I thought. Then it happened. Just like that. A burst of torrential rain suddenly fell from the sky, and before I even could engage my brain I started to sprint too. I dived on board, and under the thin canvass roof of the boat, but it was too late. I was soaked. I managed to keep my camera and wallet dry at least. Thank God. We sat in the boat until the weather turned and then crossed back.

Edwin ran me back to the highway bus stop and I bought some local Buko Pie (pineapple pie). It was 5.30pm, and I jumped on a bus back to metro Manila. Back at Baclaran I caught my second Jeepney of the day, and headed back to the hotel. Cream crackered, I had a tuna sandwich, and a bottle of coke, and then went to bed.

Transport used during the day: two Jeepneys, two public buses, one motorbike and side car, one bangcas (boat), and a horse.

more manila

'I did not have three thousand pairs of shoes. I had one thousand and sixty.'

Imelda Marcos

I've booked a ticket south to Iloilo City on Panay. My ship leaves from the South Harbour on Tuesday at 4.15pm, and arrives at 7.30pm on Wednesday. I will stay overnight in Iloilo, and then next morning catch a bus up to Caticlan, and then island hop across to Boracay, home of one of the most famous beaches in the Philippines. I booked my ticket by telephone (it's been couriered). Whilst making my booking I asked if I got my own cabin, and was told I would have to share...

'So how many people will I be sharing with?'

'One hundred sir.'

'Sorry. One? Did you say one?'

'Yes. One hundred sir.'

'One - hun - dred?'

'Yes. One hundred.'

'Right.'

It was Saturday yesterday and I did what many Manilenos do of a Saturday; I went to the Robinsons Shopping Mall. Robinsons is one of many shopping malls in Manila, and very similar to places like Castle Mall in Norwich, or the O2 Centre on Finchley Road. There are TGI Fridays and Starbucks, and you can go to Macdonalds or a Jollibee for a burger if you're fed up of the jeans shops. But there are also differences, as I was reminded when entering the mall I was frisked for firearms. I was trying to find a cinema, so I could watch a Philippino film, but was disappointed to find that the Robinsons Cinema only really shows American films. I was told there might be a Philippino film, 'in about a month or so.'

On my way out another reminder that I was not in the UK: as I stepped off an escalator a pretty young woman walked up to me and said, 'hello, would you like to make love to me sir?' Men are notorious for their commitment issues, and I am no exception. I stood there wondering if one second had really been enough for the two of us before we entered into an enduring life partnership. I said 'no thank you,' and she tried to strengthen her case by telling me that it would take her ages to get back to her flat that afternoon if she couldn't move in with me at my hotel immediately. Nice ploy, but I'm afraid it was still no dice. I'm used to people on street corners asking me if I want 'boom boom,' but I've never been approached mid-morning in a family shopping mall before.

In the afternoon I went to the Metropolitan Museum of Manila which contains a large collection of pre-Hispanic gold. They also had on display a visiting exhibition of religious iconography from Russia which I was very impressed by. Most of the Philippino artworks were landscapes and rural scenes, typically painted a hundred or so years ago. For my tastes, they were rather bland and lacking in vibrancy. They looked like the kind of thing you would find in a deceased elderly relatives attic during their house clearance. 'Chuck it in the skip, I don't think Oxfam will want it.' At the entrance to the museum there is a sign saying, 'please deposit your firearms at reception before entering,' yet another reminder that in Manila there is a dangerous edge to all the fun.

In the evening I went to a nice first floor bar which looks out over the Remedios Circle, and was delighted when they fired up a karaoke machine, but equally disappointed when the singers who stepped up turned out to be really quite good. I also noticed that they have live bands on from time to time, and was very surprised to find that one of the up and coming acts was called 'Hardy Amies.' How a Philippino rock band came to be named after a Saville Row couturier, and official dressmaker to the Queen, I'll never know? Mind boggling. But then, as Michael Freeman once said, 'everyone should have their mind boggled at least once a day.'

sagada

It's day one hundred and thirty six. I've taken five hundred and forty two photographs, and I've made almost seventy blog entries. I'm in the midst of making my way around country number five.

I've just been to Sagada, which is six hours north of Baguio, and fifteen hours north of Manila. Sagada sits in a valley in the Cordillera's, at an elevation of one thousand four hundred and seventy seven metres, and has a population of around ten thousand, most of them farmers. It's much colder than the rest of the Philippines, and even more temperate than cool Baguio. While I was there the clouds hung low, and it drizzled on and off.

I went to Sagada to because of the unusual burial rituals practiced by the people there. For almost two thousand years they have put their dead in hanging coffins, nailed to the sides of their valley, or in open burial caves scattered around the village.

Sagadans believe in life after death and that after a family member dies they become a spirit wandering the village, watching over villagers and the local clans. The coffins are hung in the valley, or in open caves, to give the spirits freedom to leave their bodies and roam as they please (burying them under the ground would trap them). Most of the coffins are very small and are carved by the elderly before they die; if they are too ill or weak their son or another close relative will do it for them. Coffins are made by hollowing out tree trunks, and the ritual involves pushing the bodies into the tight spaces, often bodies are folded and bones are cracked and broken as the process is completed.

There's also a conventional graveyard in the village, reflecting that times are beginning to change, but a number of local people are still being laid to rest in the traditional way. My guide, Eddy, showed me the coffin of his Uncle (in my pictures it is the blue coffin) who died only last year.

You may also note, if you look at my pictures, that attached to one of the coffins is a chair. This is a death chair. It used to also be tradition that when the deceased passed away he or she would be placed, sat up, on a chair in their living room, for people to visit and talk to, until the time of the funeral. The dead are not considered dead until the after the funeral (when their spirit is released). The chair in the picture is one of these 'death chairs.' Understandably, for sanitary reasons, this practice has become largely moribund. In fact, I'm not sure it happens anymore at all.

From some angles, Sagada has a ghostly and supernatural feel. The low clouds, and the echoing, windy valley certainly provide an atmosphere in which the local superstitions and spirits seem plausible and can thrive. My guide definitely believed there were spirits wandering around, watching and influencing him. Local lifestyle also reinforces. For example, there is a nine o'clock curfew. On the turn of nine the church bells rings out, the village doors close and lock, the shutters go down, and the villagers turn in to sit by their wood fires. Being in Sagada can feel, in some ways, like being transported into the world of Dracula or Frankenstein.

I stayed overnight and then left in the morning before my athiesm angered the local ghosts. I'm back down in Manila, and will be here for today at least. It's time now to make plans to head south and to move to one of the other islands.

I'm afraid I haven't eaten much Philippino food since I arrived. I've been finding it very difficult to work out what the traditional delicacies are and where you find them. Burger chains, steak houses, and Spanish eateries are all in evidence, but there is very little that is Philippino. The Philippines was a Spanish colony from 1565 to 1898, and then an American colony until 1946. There's a well worn saying that the Philippines spent three hundred and fifty years in a convent and then fifty years in Hollywood. I think this fact goes someway to explaining why the Philippino palate seems so Western, and the cuisine so lacking in local identity. I have at least had some Philippino sausages, and Bangsilog (a kind of fish in vinegar dish). Anyway, I'll keep trying to hunt traditional foods out.

Salamat ho!

north to baguio

'Baguio is a Philippine hill-station, a cool, piney retreat from the heat and humidity of the plain. Up here at five thousand feet the edge seems to have been rubbed off the demonstrative brashness of Manila and replaced by American small-town orderliness. Fire trees and native three-needle pines fringe well-kept parks and picnic areas aglow with poinsettias. The grass is green and healthy and the city signs are sponsored by Macdonalds.'

Michael Palin

I arrived in Baguio (eight hours north of Manila) yesterday afternoon, following a delightful bus journey up. I left Manila at 10.30am, having arrived, by chance, at the bus station at the exact time the bus was leaving. Once out of the city the bus drove for several hours through flat countryside until, around lunchtime, we began to ascend the Cordillera Mountains and the views became stunning. Around 6pm I looked out of the bus window and saw the sun setting over the mountain range, and could just make out on the horizon the Philippine coastline and the South China Sea. The view was sublime; I can't think that I've seen many more beautiful sights in my life, nor that I ever will.

We arrived a little after 6pm, and I've been here a day and a night now. I like Baguio a lot. It's quite a big place, the people seem friendly, and there are lots of lovely houses and views to admire, but the mountain top location is what really makes it so wonderful. For many years Baguio has been a popular summer retreat, and escape from the heat, for the rich and illustrious of Manila, so it's a pretty prosperous and affluent place. There are lots of pretty houses, all hanging to hillsides, many designed in a pastiche Swiss chalet style.

I've spent most of the day wandering up and down the winding narrow streets of the city, taking in the large chalets, and cooler temperatures. I've also had a stroll through Burnham Park (which is in the very centre of the city), and I've mounted the steps up to Baguio Cathedral and City Hall. Also hit the Central Market (I bought an apple) which was well worth going to, and the Central Mall next to St Louis University.

I'm glad to see the well developed sense of humour I observed in Manila seems to be here too. For example, last night I found out there are a chain of burger stands up here which are cheekily called 'McRonalds.' My taxi driver from the bus station drove past a branch and said, 'McRonalds. Funny, isn't it.'

Nice though Baguio is, there isn't much else for me to do here other than continue to wander around, so I'm catching the bus further north tomorrow morning to Sagada. That should take another seven hours, and will take me to the most northerly point I will visit whilst in the archipeligo.

Check Baguio out for yourself if you have time:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baguio

manila

Manila is bigger than London, and has a wilder reputation too. They say it's Tokyo or New York from the third floor up, but Jakarta or Mumbai at street level. This seems a pretty fair assessment to me. Having spent the last two days wandering the streets, I've certainly seen some interesting scenes, but I've also felt the need throughout to keep checking for my wallet and camera.

On Sunday I wandered around Malate, the entertainment district. The area is very 'Americanised' and heaves with restaurants, and bars, and karaoke. After a bit of meandering I walked up, via Ermita, to Rizal Park and took in: the Jose Rizal Memorial, the Orchidarium, the Teodora Valencia Statue, the Chess Plaza, and a gigantic pond containing a three dimensional map of the Philippines. With some of the sights under my belt, I had an ice-cream outside the National Parade Ground, and slowly wandered home.

During the course of the day I saw thousands of fabulous Jeepney's, the eccentric form of Philippines public transport, and symbol of the nation. Went a bit overboard photographing them.

In the evening I attempted to go to a karaoke bar, but couldn't find anywhere that wasn't a front for prostitution and gave up in the end. I even asked a policeman to help me find a 'good' karaoke bar, only to have him enthusiastically take me to a local brothel, and try to collect commission from the doorstaff. 'Don't worry,' he said, 'the woman good in here.' I made my polite (he had a machine gun) excuses, and headed back to the Pension Natividad for an early night and to plan the next day.

On Monday I went to the Chinese Cemetery in Santa Cruz. It is odd. It is extremely odd. The Philippino/Chinese community in Manila bury their dead in style in tombs and mausoleums made of marble and gold, double the size of the small shacks inhabited by living Philippinos in the shanty town surrounding the cemetery. Some of the mausoleums are fitted with bathrooms, working showers, and flushing toilets. One has a mini-bar and television, and another - one of the most expensive - has an employed live-in caretaker. The families of the dead do not own these expensive tombs containing their loved ones. They lease them for twenty-five years at a time, and if you can't keep up with your payments the cherished relative is turfed out of the final resting place, and walled up in the perimeter wall of the cemetery. I'm not joking, that's really how it works.

After the cemetery I caught the train to Intramuros, the old walled city and Spanish area. Until it was flattened by the Americans in World War Two the area was the gem of Manila. A lot has since been restored to its former glory, and there is still plenty to see. I visited the Church of San Augustin, Manila Cathedral, and Fort Santiago (for many years the colonial military headquarters of Manila). At Fort Santiago I stumbled across the filming of 'Miss Earth 2006,' and annoyed the film crew by leaning into the back of one of the camera shots. Keep an eye out for me if this is ever on UK television.

I've seen what I want to in Manila so I'm heading north in an hour or so to Baguio, and then up to Sagada, to see the famous burial caves and hanging coffins. I'm not sure what internet access there will be in the north so I might not be able to blog for a few days.

decisions

I spent most of last week thinking hard about the remainder of my trip, and I've made several decisions regarding what I intend to do, and what's going to happen.

I've decided that I'm not going on to Australia or New Zealand for the time being. I've lost some of my earlier enthusiasm for going (don't know why exactly), and don't want to dive in unless I'm fully committed to going. I'm not sure I've got the energy left to do it, and I'm also wondering if there aren't other locations I'd rather go to first even if I have. Finally, it would be very expensive for me, especially in comparison to other places I could visit.

I've also mentioned to some friends, at some stages, that I've been thinking of dumping my flight home from Bangkok in March and making my way back to the UK on land via China and Russia. As with Australia and New Zealand, I don't feel fully committed to this right now, and am not sure I have the energy. So I'm not going to do this either.

I've decided I'm going to finish my South East Asia tour as I originally planned, and then come home for a break and a rest.

It began to hit home in Chiang Mai, as I began to plan my possible way into Myanmar and then south, that I felt strung out at the prospect of making a whole new set of arrangements, of researching itineraries, and visas etc, and then actually doing it all. Of course, it's tremendous fun travelling like this, and extremely rewarding, I've had the time of my life, but it's also utterly exhausting and often very stressful, especially when you're on your own as I am, and I think I may be moving slowly towards my own personal threshold regarding how long I keep travelling and travelling.

Having been through so much of the region already, I don't think I'll need quite until the end of March to finish things off, so I've brought my flight home forward a little bit to to the end of January. I don't see any point in staying out here for the sake of it, not least because it would be a waste of money, and I'm confident I'll have seen everything I want to by this date.

So, from now until 23 November, I'll be exploring as much of the Philippines as I can get through. Then, from 24 November until 2 January, I'll be exploring Singapore and Malaysia (hopefully including a day trip into Brunei). Then, around 3 January, I'll head back up towards Thailand, to relax and reflect on my journey as whole, on their world class beaches, and then fly home from Bangkok on 17 January.

When I get home I'll see how I feel. If I feel I've done enough travelling for the time being I'll start looking for a new a job. If not, and I feel I want to do a bit more then the funds are there, and I may plan a second, much shorter, trip (possibly to India?), and go back to work fulltime after that. But, basically, I'll see how I feel when I get home and work from there.

imelda marcos sends her regards

I sat on the Philippine Airlines plane, listening to 'Last Christmas' by George Michael, which was playing out on the cabin speakers as passengers boarded. It was the first of a number of Christmas classics which were to follow, including: 'White Christmas' and 'Rocking Around The Christmas Tree.' I looked out of the window at the tropical landscape. I could feel the thirty plus heat. I re-confirmed in my mind that it was only early November.

I then opened my Lonely Planet. The section on the Philippines. I began reading about the local faith healers with bouffants to rival any of Little Richard's wilder hair pieces, about Imelda Marcos and her gargantuan shoe collection, about the seriousness of karaoke (a matter of life and death it would seem), and how, if you ever need to go to a police station to report a crime, you should take off your watch before you go or you'll leave without it.

All the subtle indicators were there; I was going somewhere very different, and gloriously strange.

The flight was good. It's very funny to think that, other than flying from London to Bangkok, it's been the longest single journey I've made on this trip (over one thousand and three hundred miles) and yet it's been the shortest time-wise (two hours and fifty minutes) and by far the most comfortable.

I don't have too many first impressions of Manila yet, as I've only really seen the airport, my hotel, and this internet cafe. I'm staying at the Pension Natividad (Room 5) in the Malate area. It's the cheapest hotel in my guide book, but it's still a lot more expensive - for what you get - than anything I encountered in Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, or Laos. It's a nice hotel though, built in an art-deco style, and my room is very comfortable.

You'll hear more from me as I get the chance to look around, but for now did you know that seventy percent of tourists who visit this country are men on their own? I fit this demographic, but hopefully I won't be mirroring their behaviour. Also, after the US and the UK, the Philippines is the country where English is most spoken. Not that all Philippinos are all speaking it here, because a whopping ten percent of the population is abroad at work. Here are a few more facts about the Philippines:

Full name: Republic of the Philippines
Population: 82.8 million (UN, 2005)
Number of islands in the archipeligo: over 7000

Capital: Manila
Area: 300,000 sq km (115,831 sq miles)
Major languages: Filipino, English (both official)
Major religion: Christianity
Life expectancy: 68 years (men), 72 years (women) (UN)

Birth rate: highest in Asia
Monetary unit: 1 Philippine peso = 100 centavos
Main exports: Electrical machinery, clothing, food and live animals, chemicals, timber products
GNI per capita: US $1,300 (World Bank, 2006)
Internet domain: .ph
International dialling code: +63

i liked him, but i didn't trust him

Morning team!

I'm in Bangkok. I've been here most of the week - thinking about the rest of my trip and what I'm going to do next. To cut a long story short, I've decided not to go to Myanmar, and instead, at lunchtime, I'm flying to Manila in the Philippines. I'll be staying in the Philippines for about three weeks, and will take a further flight from Cebu City to Kuala Lumpur in Malaysia on 23 November. I plan to use Kuala Lumpur as a backwards and forwards point for exploring Singapore and Malaysian Borneo until 14 December when my friend Raj arrives. The two of us will then tour Peninsula Malaysia together until 2 January.

Other than me sitting down and having a long hard think about things not much has happened this week, although I did have a very interesting experience on Wednesday which I would like to relate...

It was early morning and I was walking back to my hotel from an internet cafe, when a local guy called Chai engaged me in conversation. He asked me if I was from England, and said he had a sister who was coming to study in the UK, at Bristol University, in September. He wondered whether I would be willing to go back to his house for a late breakfast, and to meet her, so that I could provide information and tips on life in the UK. The idea of going to a real Thai home was too much and I said I would love to. We took a taxi (paid for by Chai) and headed out into the Bangkok suburbs.

When we got back to his house (a lovely suburban terraced home) his sister wasn't there. She was out with their mother but would be returning presently I was told. So we had breakfast (crab and fried fish prepared by another sister - it was fantastic) while we waited and Chai told me a bit about himself. He said he was a 'dealer' in the casino of a luxury cruise ship which toured from Hong Kong, mainly around South East Asia, but occasionally to more far flung locations. He said he'd been doing it for about a decade, and that he'd become very skilled with the cards, and could easily engineer the outcomes of games if he wished to. He also said that over time he had developed 'partnerships' with a number of his clients, and discretely let them win in exchange for a tip at the end of their game (ten per cent of the winnings).

His sister had still not returned by this stage, and he asked me, while we continued to wait, if I would like to see how it was all done. Just for fun. I said that would indeed be fun and I would love to. He went upstairs to set up his table, and beckoned me up a few minutes later. He proceeded to play a couple of mock games with me, at the beginning of each telling me what cards we would both have, and who would win. Low and behold it happened everytime. His skill was absolutely amazing; I had no idea what was happening or how he was doing it. He then went on to teach me his system of 'body language' signals for his partners, and we played a couple more games with the signals until I got the hang of them. I won everytime - just as he told me I would. He said it worked like a dream at the casino, not least because he worked in the private VIP room where there were no cameras, and also because he always insisted his partners win amounts that were not so high that they would arouse suspicion. Slow and steady was the essence, and it had worked for years.

'Great fun,' I thought. 'Now where's this sister?' Then something odd happened. The door bell rang downstairs and a moment later the sister who had made us breakfast came up.

'Ms Lee is here, and she wants to play a private game,' she said. Before anything could be said Chai hurriedly said, 'now we play a practice game with the signals to see if you can do it, we'll use my money.' Before I could say anything a woman, who looked like she was dressed straight out of a Paris fashion house, had been ushered up and was sat opposite me. I realised that things were not as they had seemed. Suddenly, I was now in a darkened room somewhere in Bangkok with a card shark and a seemingly wealthy habitual gambler.

'This is Mr Charlie from England,' Chai said, adding, 'Mr Charlie, please meet Ms Lee from Singapore.'

We exchanged pleasantries.

'First game two thousand US dollars?' Ms Lee said to Chai, laying two thousand dollars in cash on the table as she said so. It was at this point I almost vomited my crab breakfast onto the card table, and knew I was way out of my depth.

'You understand I am only playing a practice game don't you?' I said, addressing everyone in the room. 'I'm not going to play in a real game. Not for real money.'

'Yes. Yes,' Chai said calmly, and pointed at his sister: 'your girlfriend can play for you and you can just watch. Two thousand then Ms Lee?' He nodded and winked at me suggestively and - he thought - re-assuringly. I noted that in his statement he had been clear about who would be playing, but ambiguous about who would be responsible for the money if 'my girlfriend' lost. I said again, 'you do understand that I am not playing in this game, in any way...I'm just watching.' I made specific eye contact with the Karl Lagerfeld devotee sat opposite me.

They tried to plug on with beginning the game, but eventually, after I had said for about the fifth time that I was not actively playing, Chai frowned and said, 'OK Ms Lee. I think Mr Charlie is too tired to play for the moment. I will play with you separately.' He then showed me downstairs.

When we got downstairs a few words were exchanged: Chai told me to relax and said: what was my problem? I just kept saying I wasn't getting involved until he gave up, rather pissed off I must say.

'Shall I wait down here for your sister?' I said, keeping up the fiction.

'Er, perhaps she won't be back for a while,' he grumbled, 'I'll ask her to email you if she has any questions.'

'Ok, I'll get a taxi back into the city then. Thanks for the breakfast.' I made my way out to the street and jumped in the first cab that came along, and hot footed it back into the city.

So it had been a big con all along, and I was the intended victim. If I hadn't backed my way out who knows what might of happened to me? At best, I suspect, my bank account would have been completely cleaned out. At worst more sinister folk might have started appearing at the door as I fell further and further into debt. But thankfully, not all con artists are successful all of the time, so I'll conclude by saying: Chai, if you're out there, thanks for the free breakfast sucker!

Postscript: I bumped into Chai again this morning, and he was very coy about speaking to me. I asked him how the game went and he said, 'not good, the woman go crazy.'