Flying into Manila I read another of my mom’s letters, this one describing her entry into Manila (as I mentioned the other day, I brought along a stack of letters, etc that she and others wrote from that period so that I could read as I passed through the respective places).  In this one, she talks about how Hector Senior met her out on the tarmac with Jasmine leis as she stepped off the plane.  Jasmine leis for the American girl you invited to Manila for Christmas?  Well played, you charming bastard.

Her first night in town they went to, yes, a casino.  Did I tell you the apple didn’t fall far.  As she related it, you had to check your gun at the door and get patted down.  Not much has changed.  I was scoping out options for my next bet and went to a casino and walked by this on the way in.

Thankfully I wasn’t packing cause there’s nothing I hate more thanhaving to leave my pistols unattended.

Next to this box was a dude toting what looked like a gatlin gun.  Sorry, no pictures of that one.  I raised my camera.  He raised his gun.  Needless to say he had trump.

My arrival here wasn’t quite as romantic as my mom’s.  No jasmine leis for me.  But a cool expat named James spotted me a cab ride into town with him.  I had told him the Macau story while we were waiting for luggage, and then after I sold the guidebook and was considering my option, he waved me over to the taxi line.

The cabbie wasted little time in sizing me up as an apparent ’sex tourist’; a pretty common thing here it seems.  He asked me if I want girl.  I said, I’m pretty good as is, but thanks anyway.

“Okay, so we get you later.”  And this he says, looking in the rearview at me, not James.  I’m wondering why he’s just talking to me.  Do I really read: “Hooker Guy”?

I hope not.

I’m gambling guy.  Not hooker guy.

I tried to explain to him that I was here because my father worked for Time-Life here and my parents got married here and I was going to visit a bunch of places where he was.

“Okay,” he says.  Silent for a moment, then, “so, I know a place we pick up your first girl and you take her back to hotel.”

Nope.  Still good.  Thanks anyway.

The subject changed for a few blocks, then, he looks at me in the rearview again, “I take you to the beeches later, okay?  Real cheap.”

Geez this guy’s persistent.  “No, really, I’m good.”

“I take you to one.  Beautiful place.  Not far.  Water beautiful.”

Ohhhhh…

Beaches.

—

That night I sat outside a little cafe, sipping on the cheapest–in price, not taste–beer I’ve ever drank.  Along with it, I had some Adobo which are grilled meets, and watched the traffic and pedestrians flood by.  I’ve waited tables at restuarants in the past, but never had a gig the guy working here has.  The kitchen was across the street from the restaurant, so every time he took an order, he had to dodge the diesel-belching Jepneys and tricycle taxis, Frogger-like.

Anybody who’s waited tables knows about being slammed and ‘in the weeds’.  This poor dude was in traffic.

–

My gambling options are plentiful here.  Different types are everywhere.  Casino, poker clubs, horse-racing, Juentag (sp?), Sabong, lotto,  these guys…

…playing a game called Diamond.  And these guys…

…playing toss-the-bottle-cap-in-the-hole.

What is legal and what isn’t is  kind of haphazard if you ask me.

Casino…legal.

Sports betting…illegal.

Sabong (cockfighting)…legal.  But not always.

Horses…legal.

Juentag (a sort of lotto)…illegal.

Government lotto…legal…and recommended.

What I’d like is to find a way to bet on a local sporting event like one of the Philippines basketball leagues and then go to the game.

We’ll see.

Right now, I’m off to some of my father’s old haunts as well as the house he and my mom lived in.