Isabel Royale Hotel provided me with a box to sleep in. I hit my head on the ‘overhead’ TV and couldn’t bend over in the shower. I had to shuffle, feet out penguin style, around the bed. On the plus side I had aircon, the bed was clean, firm and long enough.
On check in I was asked to pay 1000 pesos deposit which I questioned as the internet information advised me there was nothing else to pay. With an almost indiscernible shoulder lift the check in girl then said ‘never mind’!! I was asked to sign an inventory list which included curtains and light bulbs without seeing the room which, I pointed out, seemed a little illogical, although I was glad this suggested the room was still equipped with these items. The bell boy took the inventory list to the room and I checked the room was equipped the items on the list including curtains and light bulbs. Surreal.
Having no desire to plot an inventory reduction scheme I left the box and explored. One place along Makati Avenue had roadside tables and beer at twenty eight peso a bottle. I’d just finished a third bottle and was settling the bill with a shoulder chipped Ruby, when a middle aged European, bottle in hand, ambled onto the scene. He appeared to be passing through but enquired of my health all the same. I felt ‘good’, I told him. He suggested I avail myself of a bottle of something even more palatable than San Mig Pale. Holding up the bottle in his hand he advised me of the attractive price, alcohol strength and purchase location. The 7-11 opposite! Other information imparted in the short exchange led me to believe he was from Sweden, retired and living the life of Riley in Asia after an accident insurance payout that afforded him reasonable rooms, travel and enough remaining change for 7-11 alcohol that stood head and shoulders above SM Pale. His amiable throw away manner drew me into the name exchange ritual and I was advised of another somewhat, in my view, outrageous episode of his recent past. He’d changed his name through an official route (in front of the mirror after a prolonged bout of 7-11 alcohol consumption?) to King Sir. Maybe I should have understood what sort of accident he’d had.
I returned to the box for a late afternoon siesta and a happy plan to visit Heckle and Jeckle later but woke at 9am the next day.
Down The Road 