Philippines

My Name Is…Too $hort
Let’s just get this out of the way right now: the Philippines isn’t a country you breeze through. You can’t, and you shouldn’t. For a guy like me—a few days in, a few days out, see what I can, eat what I can, and move on—this place is a beast of a different kind. I’ve hit spots like Chile, Suriname, Taiwan, even The Bahamas, and left feeling like I’d cracked the code, squeezed out the essence, and walked away satisfied. Not here. Not even close.

The Philippines isn’t built for the hit-and-run traveler. It’s a country of endless “musts,” “shoulds,” and “you’d be crazy to miss this” places—world-class islands, beaches that redefine paradise, and a kind of chaotic, joyous soul that demands time, and lots of it. And me? I had two nights in Manila. Two. Measly. Nights.

I knew I’d blown it before I’d even unpacked my bags. This wasn’t a trip; it was a tease, a cruel appetizer for a feast I’d need weeks—no, months—to properly devour. So yeah, I’ll be back. I have to be. Because this is one of those rare places that gets under your skin and stays there, unfinished business etched into every corner of your mind.

The People of The Philippines
Let me tell you something: I’ve been around. I’ve met warm people, hospitable people, people who’ll share a meal with you or offer a bed for the night. But then there’s the Philippines, and the Filipinos—they’re in a league of their own. Honestly, I’m not sure I’ll ever encounter a friendlier, more open-hearted people anywhere on the planet.

It’s hard to describe just how much love these folks radiate, especially toward Americans. Two days. That’s all I had, and in that short time, I was overwhelmed—bowled over, really—by their kindness, their warmth, their unwavering good vibes. They don’t just make you feel welcome; they make you feel like family.

And yeah, the stories are true. Americans in the Philippines? Forget about it. You’re not just welcome—you’re celebrated. Walking the streets, meeting strangers, it’s like you’re some long-lost friend they’ve been waiting to see again. They treat you like a star, but without the ego or the pretense. Just pure, unfiltered hospitality.

It’s a hard thing to put into words, honestly. You’ve got to feel it for yourself—this overwhelming, genuine affection they have. I left with my heart a little fuller, my faith in humanity a little stronger, and a firm belief that I’ll be back. Because once you’ve been treated like that, it’s impossible to forget.

Day One
I rolled into Manila at 8 PM on a Saturday night, and by 9, I was checked into my hotel. For this trip, I decided to treat myself—splurged on a one-bedroom suite at the New World Hotel in Makati, the city’s swanky, high-end playground. Sometimes you’ve got to live a little, right?

But here’s the thing: I was wiped. Dead tired. After the usual travel grind, I managed one beer at the lobby bar before my body begged me to call it a night. I headed up to my suite, ready to collapse into sweet oblivion.

The room? Nice. Spacious. Everything you’d expect for what I paid. Except for the air conditioning. Let me tell you about this thing—it had two settings: OFF and ARCTIC BLAST. No middle ground. No gentle breeze. Just a choice between sweating like you’re in a sauna or freezing like you’re on the tundra. Why? Why is this always a thing?

So, there I was, buried under layers of blankets, cursing the HVAC gods, and wondering how a place this upscale hadn’t figured out the fine art of temperate climate control.

RAMBLIN’ TIP: Find a great hotel for an amazing price in Manila HERE.

The next morning, it was game on—my one and only full day in the Philippines. After a solid hotel breakfast, I hopped in a cab and made my way to The Mall of Asia, one of those sprawling consumer cathedrals that’s as much a cultural experience as it is a shopping trip.

I wandered through the endless maze of shops, restaurants, and kiosks—everything from high-end boutiques to places selling trinkets and curios. It’s a spectacle, no doubt about it. But then, at the far end, I stepped out into something different. The bay.

The sun was blazing, the sky impossibly blue. I’d lucked out big time—weeks of relentless rain had finally given way to a picture-perfect day, and here I was, soaking it all in. I strolled along the water, past a Ferris wheel and the clatter and laughter of carnival rides. The salty breeze, the shimmering water—it felt like the city had opened itself up just for me.

Moments like these are why we travel. Not the malls or the shopping (though they have their charm), but the unexpected beauty waiting just beyond the door. That bay, under that sun? A gift. One I’ll remember long after the trip is over.

But First, Let’s Take a Selfie
As I made my way back through the mall, I couldn’t shake the feeling of how damn cool the people were. I found myself in this massive electronics section—just a sea of gadgets, screens, and the hum of technology—but the real action was happening around me.

I pulled out my phone for a quick selfie, you know, the usual travel ritual. But before I could even snap two pictures, the whole crew at the cell phone shop behind me was suddenly in frame, grinning, posing, and giving me the full, unfiltered Philippines welcome.

These guys weren’t just selling phones—they were showing me what it really means to be warm, spontaneous, and, above all, fun. That kind of energy? It’s contagious. You can’t help but smile right back.

Stroll Through the Park
Next up, Rizal Park—probably the most famous patch of green in Manila, where history and patriotism are as thick as the humidity. I wandered through the park, palm trees swaying, flags fluttering in the breeze, and monuments standing tall, each one telling a different chapter of this country’s struggle and resilience. The pride here? It’s palpable.

I got talking with a local woman, and I asked her about the current president, Rodrigo Duterte. Without missing a beat, she said, “I didn’t vote for him, but he’s our president now, so I support him.”

Now, that’s something. The kind of no-nonsense, forward-thinking loyalty you don’t see enough of. It struck me, as I stood there in the park, how rare that kind of unity is, especially in a place like the States these days. Maybe we could stand to learn a thing or two from the Filipinos about putting aside differences and moving forward together.

They See Me Rollin’
I’ve done the tuk-Tuk. I’ve done the Chicken Bus. But the jeepney? That was new territory. And let me tell you—there’s a first time for everything. Picture this: a stretch Jeep, bench seating inside, no seat belts, of course—because why not? This is a jeepney. And let me tell you, they’re everywhere in Manila. They’re rolling, chrome-plated works of art, each one with its own name, like some bizarre, oversized boat.

Jeepneys are the lifeblood of transportation in this city—hell, probably the whole country. You’re not going anywhere in Manila without seeing them, but let me tell you, the ride might be the least of your worries when it comes to getting around here.

The traffic? Holy hell. People warned me about it before I even touched down, but nothing could have prepared me for the true scope of it. Manila doesn’t really have an official public transportation system to speak of. Sure, there’s a monorail/tram thing—looks good on paper—but it’s about as reliable as a leaky faucet. The real way to get around? Good luck. It’s gridlock, all day, every day. A 10-minute trip can easily turn into an hour-long nightmare.

The locals? They don’t measure distance in kilometers here. No, they measure it in hours. You need to drive two miles? That’s an hour. Got a meeting across town? Better plan on half a day. Welcome to Manila, my friends. It’s an experience you can’t prepare for.

Old Town Road
So yeah, I hopped on one of those jeepneys from Rizal Park and made my way over to Intramuros, the old walled district. Spent a solid hour wandering around—just taking in the vibe. The place has this gritty charm: ancient stone walls, weathered by time and covered in moss, like nature’s way of reclaiming what man built. You’ve got cannons, a moat, monuments that tell stories of a time long past, and even a little museum tucked away. And then there’s the river—smooth, calm, offering a glimpse of the city’s old soul.

After a decent wander, I grabbed a bite, then cabbed it back to the hotel. The rest of the night was mine to unwind. I ended up at the lobby bar, nursing a Singapore Sling and listening to a lounge singer do her thing—turns out she was belting out some Carole King, and she did it justice. It was one of those moments when everything just clicks—the food, the drink, the music, the ambiance. I don’t know if it’s the Philippines or just the way things fall into place, but I love this place.

Day Two
Sadly, day two turned out to be my last day in the Philippines. I spent most of it sulking, grumbling about the fact that I had to leave that night, already plotting my return. Hell, I even found myself talking apartment prices with my Uber driver, getting way too into the idea of living here. I could totally see myself sticking around.

But I wasn’t all daydreams—I had work to do. Two radio station visits were on the agenda. For those who don’t know, I’m not just some wanderer. I’ve got a day job—I’m a radio DJ. I host a syndicated show called Sunday Night Slow Jams, a love songs and dedications program that spans across continents. And for me, there’s no better way to connect with a place than to visit a local radio station. You get a feel for the culture, the vibe, the pulse of a city just by seeing how they do it behind the mic. And yeah, sometimes I pitch my show while I’m at it, because why not?

>>> RELATED: Ramblin’ on the Radio – My Visits to Foreign Radio Stations

I kicked off the day at Magic 89.9FM, where I met up with Program Director Andrew Santiago. If I wasn’t already impressed by Filipino hospitality, this guy took it to a whole new level. Not only did Andrew carve out time on a hectic Monday to meet me, but he also invited me to sit down and enjoy coffee and pastries—seriously, how many people would do that? It wasn’t just about the radio talk, though that was great—it was about the connection. We had a fantastic time chatting, and I got a firsthand look at the Magic 89.9 studios and their two sister stations.

But it didn’t end there. Andrew, being the stand-up guy that he is, even drove me to my next appointment. Now that’s what I call hospitality. This guy was a class act, and I’m not sure I could have asked for a better introduction to Manila. What a cool dude.

Next stop: Wave 89.1FM. This station actually airs my show, Sunday Night Slow Jams, and let me tell you, it’s a trip to hear your voice floating through the airwaves in Manila. Huge shoutout to Nelson “Sarge” Capulso for having me on. You can catch the show every Sunday at 10PM on Wave 89.1FM—just in case you’re looking for some smooth tunes.

It was awesome to finally meet Sarge in person, after all the behind-the-scenes back-and-forth. And the station? It’s got that perfect mix of laid-back vibes and professional polish. I even jumped on the mic with Dash, the midday DJ. We talked Slow Jams, my Manila adventure, and of course, I couldn’t stop gushing about how much I loved the Philippines. It was a blast, a real moment of connection, and damn fun to share the love of radio and the country with the folks there.

It’s so Hard to Say Goodbye

After the radio station visits, I grabbed an Uber back to the hotel and started packing for that dreaded flight out. I can’t even describe how gutted I felt—hell, I was downright pissed about leaving so soon. The Philippines has that kind of pull on you. It’s one of those places you not only have to come back to, but a place I could actually see myself living in. Or at least sticking around for months at a time. The vibe, the people—it gets under your skin.

Philippines, don’t worry, I’ll be back. Leave the light on for me.

Want a taste of the trip? Check out my Insta-Stories from day one.

Guess Who’s Back…Back Again (2023)
Anyone who knows me will tell you I don’t shut up about the Philippines. Ever since my first trip there in 2017, it’s been stuck in my head like an earworm. The Philippines, or as I like to call it, The Peens, has this magnetic pull that I can’t shake. Honestly, I would’ve returned a lot sooner, but I had to finish 193 first. But lucky me, my latest trip to wrap up The Pacific meant I’d have to swing through Manila anyway. I had a layover if I wanted to get from Papua New Guinea to Palau. It was the only way. So what do I do? Well, I mean, you know me by now—book an extra, extra long layover. Duh.

And let me tell you, I couldn’t have been happier to touch down in Manila. Not just because The Peens is one of my all-time favorite places on Earth, but because I’d just spent two nights in a place that was as close to third-world as it gets. A town with zero amenities. No internet, no TV, no nothing. I was in Buka, in the autonomous region of Bougainville, inside Papua New Guinea. While I was glad to experience Buka, I can’t say I was thrilled with the guest services—or the lack of them. I was in a sketchy lodge with cockroaches and not a single restaurant or café in sight.

Look, I’m not trying to cry a river here, but traveling teaches you a lot. And for me, one of the things I’ve learned is that I can’t fully enjoy myself if I can’t at least get a decent hotel room. I don’t need anything fancy—just clean white sheets and WiFi. That’s the bare minimum.

So, yeah, no shade on Buka at all—it had its charm—but I want you to understand just how stoked I was to land in Manila. Because here I was, going from a grimy little hut to a gorgeous, luxurious hotel room at the top of a modern high-rise in a vibrant city. I was so ready for this.

>>> RELATED: To Buka and Back: Visiting The Autonomous Region of Bougainville 

Two Nights
The moment I stepped out of the airport and onto the curb, I felt it—that unmistakable warmth of the Philippines. And I’m not just talking about the weather. It’s the people. There’s something disarming, something real about them. Case in point: I asked a female police officer for help finding the Uber pickup spot, and the way she went out of her way to help, her kindness—it just hit differently. You don’t get that everywhere.

And then came the hotel. A proper, gorgeous high-rise with all the trappings: a bed so big and fluffy it could swallow you whole, a TV packed with English channels, and a view of the city that reminded me why I love places like this. Big sigh. I was just so damn grateful to be here.

Mornings started with me going full fat kid mode at the Sheraton’s top-floor buffet. Now, keep in mind, my “diet” over the last few days in Buka had been…let’s call it minimalist. Village food (no disrespect, villagers) and some off-brand cookies and crackers from dusty Chinese trading posts. Coffee? Forget it—instant at best.

So this buffet? Oh, I wasn’t holding back. Fresh pastries, steaming coffee, and enough options to make you feel like royalty. After days of scraping by, I was finally eating like a king—and I wasn’t sorry about it.

RAMBLIN’ TIP: So many great and inexpensive hotels in Manila. Check HERE!

Dora the Explorer
I had just 48 hours in Manila, and while there’s nothing groundbreaking to report, it was exactly what I needed: a simple, satisfying stretch of time in a city that feels like a warm hug. No drama, no epiphanies—just a really nice time exploring a really nice city filled with really nice people.

Day one, I hit the ground running. First stop: Quiapo Market. Now, the market itself was great—colorful, chaotic, everything you’d expect—but what really grabbed me was the adjacent Islamic neighborhood. A little quieter, a little more off the beaten path, but full of character. From there, I hopped on a jeepney and made my way to the National Museum of Natural History. First time for both, and they didn’t disappoint. Then, for an old favorite: a stroll through Rizal Park. It’s like revisiting an old friend—always good for the soul.

Lunch broke the mold, though. I went full curveball and skipped Filipino cuisine for kebabs and rice at Arya Persian Restaurant. What can I say? Sometimes you just need a Mediterranean fix. But I didn’t completely dodge local flavors—I tried dalandan juice, made from sweet oranges. Refreshing, vibrant, and impossible for me to remember properly. I kept calling it “dang-a-lang” juice. Whatever you call it, it’s delicious. That said, my exploration of Filipino food didn’t go much further this trip. And no, I’m still not ready for balut—a halfway-formed bird in an egg? Yeah, I’ll pass for now.

The day wrapped perfectly with a fantastic massage at a spa across from the hotel. It was the kind of massage that erases time and knocks you out cold. Bliss.

Now, let me talk about where I stayed, because this was a revelation. My hotel was in Malate, and I absolutely loved it. The neighborhood was alive—buzzing with energy, full of local flavor, and endlessly interesting. It felt raw, real, and vibrant—so much more engaging than the businesslike vibe of Makati, where I stayed last time. Makati has its perks, but from now on? It’s Malate or bust. Total bullseye.

Dot Your I’s and Cross Your Teas
Without question, the crown jewel of this entire trip was finding my holy grail of Indonesian iced teas at a 7-Eleven in Manila. Teh Pucuk Harum. If you know, you know. I first stumbled on this jasmine-infused nectar of the gods years ago in Jakarta, and life hasn’t been the same since. I’ve been chasing that dragon ever since—searching every corner of the internet, scanning store shelves in random countries—but no luck.

So when I landed in Papua New Guinea, just a hop and a skip from Indonesia, I thought maybe, just maybe, I’d strike gold. No dice. A crushing defeat.

Fast-forward to Manila. Out of curiosity—and maybe desperation—I Googled it. And there it was: Teh Pucuk Harum. Available at 7-Eleven. I couldn’t believe it. I’d even been in one earlier that day and somehow missed it. Rookie mistake.

With Google as my guide, I rushed over to the nearest 7-Eleven. And there it was, just sitting there in the fridge like it was waiting for me. My hand trembled as I grabbed the bottle, tore off the cap, and took that first sip. It wasn’t just tea—it was a reunion. A moment. Ten glorious ounces of jasmine-infused perfection. I’m not ashamed to admit it: I was this close to tears.

>>> RELATED: Ramblin’ Randy “Best Of” – Best Iced Tea

The Thrilla in Manila
Day two was a masterclass in doing absolutely nothing, and I don’t regret a single second. I slept in, stayed cocooned in that glorious hotel room until well past noon, and savored every last bit of comfort like it was my last meal. With a few “questionable” destinations still ahead, I wasn’t going to waste a moment of luxury.

The day’s agenda was delightfully low-effort: a haircut, a feast of Korean BBQ, and yet another massage that was just as life-changing as the first. Manila knows how to take care of you. By sundown, it was time to pack up and head to the airport for the next leg of the journey—country #190, Palau.

Manila, you’ve done it again. Warm, welcoming, exciting, and just the right amount of laid-back. I can’t stay away for long—I’ve already booked a return trip for next December. This time, I’m doing it right. A longer stay, and I’m branching out: Cebu, Davao, and beyond. Check back for the full story, December 2023. Until then, salamat, Manila.

See my 2023 trip to Manila, Cebu and Davao HERE.

See my 2024 trip to Siargao, Philippines HERE.

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