Manila, The Philippines: A City of Contrasts and Captivating Chaos Finally, we arrived at the port of Manila, albeit 45 minutes behind schedule due to the heavy traffic of ships

Manila, The Philippines: A City of Contrasts and Captivating Chaos

Photos to be added once internet speed improves

Finally, we arrived at the port of Manila, albeit 45 minutes behind schedule due to the heavy traffic of ships leaving the harbour. Among them were three colossal container vessels, likely laden with goods from Temu, destined for eager consumers in the UK. The delay, though frustrating, offered a glimpse into the bustling maritime activity that defines this vibrant city.  

As we approached, a lively welcoming committee greeted us, their thunderous drumbeats echoing across the deck and rousing passengers from their early morning slumber. A local band, adorned in what I can only describe as traditional costumes—black feathered headdresses and floral housecoats—added a splash of colour and culture to the scene. It was a fitting introduction to Manila, a city that thrives on energy and contrasts.  

Stepping out onto the deck for my morning exercise, I was immediately struck by the frenetic activity in the harbour. Tugs darted around like busy bees, guiding massive ships into their tight berths, while smaller boats zipped through the still waters. The humidity was already palpable at 28°C, with the temperature climbing steadily under a partly cloudy sky tinged with morning mist.  

A dozen dragon racing canoes sliced through the water, their rowers moving in perfect unison to the rhythmic calls of their helmsman. Whether they were training or simply enjoying the morning, their shouts and screams added to the cacophony of sounds that filled the air. It was a symphony of chaos, a hallmark of Manila’s vibrant spirit.  

On the shore, masses of Filipino staff worked tirelessly to secure the ship, though their efforts seemed a little disorganised. The old adage “too many chefs” came to mind as I watched them struggle with the lines. In the distance, the skyline of Manila emerged through the haze—or was it smog?—its skyscrapers standing tall against the morning light.  

The view from the ship revealed the stark contrasts that define this city. A pier extended from the container port, lined with a ramshackle collection of homes perched precariously on stilts. These makeshift structures, held together with bits of rope, plastic bags, and tarps, stood in sharp contrast to the gleaming skyscrapers beyond. It was a poignant reminder of the economic disparities that exist here.  

The excitement among the Filipino crew was palpable. Many were preparing to disembark for their two-month break, their faces lit up with joy at the prospect of reuniting with loved ones. Our own room boy was among them, and it was heartwarming to see his excitement. For those of us remaining on board, there was a bittersweet feeling—happy for our friends but sad to see them go. Over the past 67 days of world cruising, many of these crew members had become like family.  

Disembarking, we passed through the immigration hall, where families sat at round tables draped in white cloths, eagerly awaiting the return of their loved ones. Outside, the scene was even more emotional, with crew members being mobbed by joyful family and friends. It was a reminder of the sacrifices these individuals make, spending months away from home to support their families.  

Leaving the port, we were met by armed security guards and marines who waved us through with smiles. Almost immediately, we were thrust into the bedlam of Manila’s streets, navigating a gauntlet of taxi and tour touts. Crossing the four-lane road felt like a life-or-death decision, with traffic barely acknowledging the flashing red lights.  

Our journey took us north along tree-lined avenues, their roots lifting the pavement and making navigation a challenge, especially for someone like me wearing bifocal glasses. The constant presence of police, some on bikes and others stationed at crossroads, provided a sense of security amidst the chaos.  

The noise of the traffic was relentless, but it was occasionally punctuated by the peeling of church bells, calling the faithful to mass. It was Sunday, after all—a day of rest for some, but not for Manila. The city never sleeps.  

We stumbled upon the ancient walls of Intramuros, the historic heart of Manila. Climbing the worn steps onto the battlements, we were rewarded with breathtaking views of the city. The stone slabs underfoot were uneven and worn, a testament to their age, but they offered a unique perspective on the city’s contrasts. Below us, a lush golf course stood in stark contrast to the bustling streets beyond.  

As we explored further, we encountered the vibrant street life that defines Manila. Horse-drawn carts, motorcycle sidecars, and the famous jeepneys—converted US military jeeps—shared the roads with rickshaws and Lamborghini-style tricycles. The streets were a kaleidoscope of colours, sounds, and smells, from the fragrant blooms of magnolia trees to the less pleasant odours of open drains.  

The city’s history was everywhere, from the beautiful cathedrals to the statues of past conquerors, their plaques long since removed. It was a reminder of the Philippines’ complex past and its journey to independence.  

But it was the people who left the deepest impression. In the poorer parts of the city, life was basic, yet the resilience and warmth of the people were undeniable. Children played in the streets, barbers worked under makeshift awnings, and families gathered in courtyards draped with colourful laundry. It was a privilege to witness their lives, even if only briefly.  

Our walk took us to Chinatown, where we encountered a less welcoming side of the city. A group of teenagers attempted to snatch my wallet, but a swift reaction and some colourful language saw them off. The police were quick to respond, and an armed officer escorted us to safety. It was a reminder to stay vigilant, even in the midst of the city’s charm.  

As the day wore on, the heat became oppressive, and we sought refuge in the shade of the trees. The city’s energy, though invigorating, was also exhausting. Manila is a city of contrasts—rich and poor, chaos and calm, history and modernity. It’s a place that leaves an indelible mark on your soul, a city that demands to be experienced, not just seen.  

As we made our way back to the ship, I couldn’t help but reflect on the resilience and spirit of the Filipino people. Despite the challenges they face, their smiles are genuine, their hospitality unwavering. Manila is a city that defies easy description, a place where every corner tells a story. And as the sun set over the harbour, I knew this was a city I would never forget.

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