So I awoke to three people preparing quite a lot of these marvellous things:

Now I’ve never started my day on a diet of clams and so was slightly relieved to hear they were for lunch. Breakfast was tusino once again. With a bonus picture this time:

 

The regular church services commenced and my spine is being modified into a pew friendly shape. The routine has become normal to me now though. Never again will I freak out when asked to recite a memorised bible verse. I remember the first time, I just spat out John 3:16 on instinct. The most well known bible verse. I felt like such an imposter in the midst of these well versed Christians. This week there was an absence of the ukulele, but because I only just received the picture from last week you can pretend that I was playing and so here I am:

 

The services had ended, grace was said (I secretly asked for courage), and behold upon the hill were an army of clams. Clams and rice. Dig in lads…

The texture was nice, a touch squishy but it fit nicely with the rice as it could be compressed into a solid lump. The taste wasn’t overly fishy (for which I am thankful) it was salty and left a strong aftertaste in the back of your mouth.

I migrated back to the piano and two street kids walked in to the church and had a listen. These two were a little young to know English and Tagalog so conversations was limited but music removes the need for a language. Copying isn’t that difficult to mime and so we had a laugh around that. Kuya A then entered and asked to be taught the opening to the Pirates of the Carribean. For a lad who’s played hymns for more years than I can care to count he’s never experienced syncopation (playing notes off the beat so they sound unexpected or slightly out of place). Giving credit where credit is due he managed to pick it up eventually but I could tell he really had to make the effort not to play it as a hymn.

Actually… A hymn based off Pirates of the Carribean. Theologically a nightmare but musically a very interesting challenge. Well blog readers. You have your homework.

Kuya Joel and I explored another section of downtown where he showed me his favourite restaurant. Korean food. I’ve eaten Korean food in both Japan and the Philippines, perish the thought that I’d ever try it in Korea. A chicken foo yung was my choice of delicacy which bears a similar resemblance to the Japanese Okonomoyaki.

 

Can someone explain to me how even in the densest city in the world you can still meet people you know out in public? Kuya A and his mother walked in the door to my very great surprise. And this has happened more than once! Meeting friends when going out. It seems that it’s a small world no matter where you are.

So… when in Rome do as the Romans do, right? Well, when in the Philippines… Hm. Forget it. It doesn’t quite have the same ring to it. But the point is there are major cultural differences between Australians (and Brits for that matter) and the Filipino people. I’ll provide one example. In western countries the act of beautifying oneself is seen as acceptable for females but considered a little weird for the men. Not so here. Manicures, pedicures, facials… Anyone and everyone gets them done here. Kuya Joel has a pedicure twice a month. So I brought myself to go for a foot spa (deeply rooted manly values were clashing with my adventurous try new things attitude).

So at the foot spa they first rubbed away at my foot with sandpaper to try and remove five years worth of calluses. I love walking barefoot. Even across gravel. So now I’m going to have to start all over again in acquiring my leather like feet. Truth be told they’ve already managed to make my left foot bleed a little. New experience…those words are an excuse to try just about anything once no matter how weird it first appears.

It’s finished, and oh my goodness… my foot looks like a new born baby’s foot.

Update: It’s not finished… How naive of me. I have no idea what they’re doing but I’m pretty sure I’m white enough already.

My baby feet and I accompanied Kuya Joel to a nearby bowling alley. This was manual bowling. There’s a guy who hides behind the pins and sets them up after you knock them down. Talk about Sisyphus and the boulder rolling…

Unfortunately I only learnt of his existence after I’d bowled with all my strength in the wrong lane. Kuya Joel actually took a photo of me doing this shot.

Imagine the voice of Jeremy Clarkson shouting “POWER!!!!”. There was a lot of Tagalog shouting and I think I nearly broke the guys legs but it all worked itself out in the end.

It was an enjoyable experience but I got soundly beaten

As you can see. Sigh. If I ever get round to playing badminton I’ll finally win at something but until then….

 

Just like at Starbucks I had the pleasure of seeing my name written out incorrectly. And you have the pleasure of seeing I missed more than half my shots. Much to the relief of the guy behind the pins.

  

On the way back home the staring phenomenon was explained in more detail to me. So there’s white people and then there’s white people. My features are not that of the more common American species found here. Hence this hooked nose and curly hair is deemed a bit exotic.