SIN Do '15 and after
 

US4065 DCA PVD 1300 1428 CRJ 1F
was UA4820 BWI EWR 1038 1152 Q20 2A
and 4693 EWR PVD 1440 1539 ER4 18A

So it was cold out, and I didn't relish the idea of waiting
at an assortment of bus stops so I could make this flight,
so I got my brother to take me to BWI - this being an
arrangement of mutual benefit: he got to drive at my expense
and I stayed relatively warm.

There was little traffic on the beltway and the parkway, so
I had a fair amount of time to kick around in the gate area
when I heard a call for all PVD passengers. Turns out that
they had a deal for me.

Weight and balance on plane 1, so they'd figured, oh, put me
on the nonstop from Dulles, everything's hunky dory, I get a
$200 bump fee and I get into Providence before my scheduled
time. Okay by me, I was going to visit Gallagher's and spend
$50 anyway (I later discovered that Gallagher's is gone), so
here I save $250 on a $100 ticket. Only there's no way to
get me to Dulles in time. Think, think. Okay, there's a
nonstop on US Air from National at 1. Fine. They put me on a
cab, and off we went, an hour maybe, only this very chatty
Nigerian guy got me there in just over half, so he gets a
decent tip, and I get Five Guys, grilled onions and double
jalapenos, then back to gate 35X, the former 35A (what's
that all about?), where the bus took me (yes, the changes of
tense are deliberate) to a little CRJ, where the throne
awaited. A quick flight out of there, good day for flying,
and I don't know what the reason for a weight and balance
issue was on the first plane.

I didn't bother to call Rosemary to try to hustle her over,
just read e-mail for an hour and went out to the curb at
the appointed time.

Dinner party for the family. Rosemary insisted that I stay
out of the kitchen and proceeded to produce a substantially
dairyful meal; luckily I had a huge stash of pills.

We started with cheese and crackers - a decent Cheddar, a
less decent St. Andre, and a Gorgonzbreatha that I didn't
bother to try.

John and Janet had brought Sea Gold crab dip, which is a
cream-cheezoid substance mixed with what seems to be
pickle relish and assorted stuff, but almost no real crab.
A worthy experiment but very sweet and not worth the pills.

Luckily for me there were cashews; Rosemary had got the
unsalted by mistake, which was fine, as I prefer them, and
nobody else does, but they had cheesy comestibles to
console themselves with.

A salad of the ordinary throw it together sort.

Fish chowder, made with half-and-half and haddock, was
quite nice, though there were way too many potatoes for
my preference.

I don't know where the cranberry chocolate chip bread came
from, but it went nicely with Haagen Dazs (a generally
overrated brand) chocolate chocolate chip ice cream.

The wines:

H3 Horse Heaven Hills Cabernet 12 from Columbia Crest was
well made in the oversweetened American style - modest oak,
lots of wide open berries and stone fruit; a bit of vanilla.
You could tell it was a Cabernet, and you might be able to
tell that it was from a global warmingized Washington state.

Rombauer Carneros Merlot 10 was the best thing I've drunk
in weeks. Quite a bit of acid, but tannic and with a nice
balance. Pepper and spice and plums, and it filled the mouth
amazingly. Long savory finish.

Campo Viejo Rioja Garnacha 12 - I don't know where they get
off calling it a Rioja, as it lacks any of the character of
that appellation. This is a bright, thin, slightly sweet
product that might as well be raspberry soda. I was glad of
the Rombauer.

J. Lohr Seven Oaks Pasa Robles Cabernet 12 - jug stuff in a
double bottle. Very fresh, fruity, not notably Cabernettish.
Perfectly pleasant for what it was, and cheap as chips.

That was I think the only notable meal of the week. A lot
of foraging (through cabinets and cupboards, not outside,
where it was cold).

One notable thing that I have just been informed of -
Rosemary e-mailed me that on the way back from taking me to
the train, her car was totalled by a deer hitting it. The
car was mere months old. She's getting a hybrid next.

UA1299 BOS SFO 0600 0953 738 2A Ch9 not applicable

upperdeck744 was in row 1 and ordogg (I think that's his
handle) in row 3.

upperdeck actually had a weird altercation with one of the
FAs - he was in row 1 (no floor stowage) and asked - totally
politely I thought - if his backpack could go in the closet.
The otherwise okay FA pulled the FAA regulations trump card,
claiming that they forbade stowage of passenger property
there. upperdeck gave the universal shrug and upturned hands
"whatever" gesture - which she took umbrage at, and I was
beginning to wonder if I was going to have to stomp off the
plane in solidarity (I did that once with another prominent
FTMPer, the eventual result being an apology from UA, $1200
in vouchers, a surprisingly nice steak dinner and a room at
the Hilton, and Global First the next day). upperdeck did
the wise thing and took the path of least resistance. I do
suspect that if upperdeck had not been of a different color
than the FA or his carryon had been a nifty suit bag that
said Burberry on it, his request would have been cheerfully
granted.

Otherwise a perfectly ordinary flight with the standard
breakfast, of which I found the sausage worse than usual,
the omelet better than usual (real or at least American-real
Cheddar), the fruit cup exemplary. I watched Bourdain and/or
Zimmern (they mush together after a while), and soon, rather
early in fact, we were let off in one of the more
unattractive passenger areas in the San Francisco airport.

By the way, while I remember, the United Club in these 60s
gates is undersized and dim and not very pleasant. Avoid.
The staff are surpringly cheery, though, given the setting.
upperdeck and ordogg invited me to the Global First lounge,
where I had a glass of Woodford Reserve (Cognac was out) and
one of the most misbegotten food offerings I have ever seen.

There was a pile of air-catering-style foil containers
stacked by a pot of simmering soup with a sign instructing
you to take a container and ladle soup over it. The foil
things contained noodles and sliced stew beef that was
mostly gristle ... and the food was stone cold. So. You
take your container (a sensible person puts the contents
into a bowl) of cold food and puts warm, not hot, broth
on it, and what do you get.

The liquid isn't hot enough to heat the food or to soften
the rather stiff noodles. So you get soggy but still hard
starch topped with still stiff, not very tender, well,
actually very tough, protein. The taste, with star anise and
a bit of garlic is not bad, but the textures are all wrong
and the temperature appalling. Oh, by the way, the noodles
are shrimp-flavored, traditional in some places but perhaps
a surprise to an American first-class clientele.

ordogg left his virtually untouched. I ate mine, as I like
stiff noodles and gristly beef. I also tolerate tepid food
well, but this was, even with the broth, borderline cold.

upperdeck and ordogg were off to ICN, connecting to flights
to Singapore from there. I wished them well and see ya soon.

UA 837 SFO NRT 1100 1510 744 15A Ch9^

Upstairs for one of the last times, if not the last. It used
to be so exciting - one would anticipate for days after
snagging the throne in the sky, ahead of the then not so
abundant 1Ks and the captains (well, lieutenants maybe) of
industry. Now, this spot, which I chose for sentimental
reasons only, is just another pod in a larger pod. It faces
backward, which I don't mind, and it still has the side bin,
which I like a lot.

Our flight attendants were veteran and professional, the
kind you fantasize about pouring you Courvoisier all night.

The wine on offer was Bourgogne (Nicolas Potel) 12, about as
ordinaire as you can get. There was a bit of that meaty
cherrylike Pinot taste, but mostly what you got seemed to be
signs of chaptalization. I quickly switched to my usual for
the rest of the flight.

TO BEGIN

Chilled Appetizer
Prosciutto and melon and California sushi roll

Fresh Seasonal Greens
Tomatoes, Kalamata olives, Parmesan cheese
and croutons with your choice of GF ranch dressing
or Italian vinaigrette

I just said no.

MAIN COURSE

Grilled Pork Chop
Green peppercorn sauce, shiitake mushroom bread pudding,
white asparagus and broccolini

Cajun-style Breast of Chicken
Cajun cream sauce, white beans with chicken sausage,
collard greens and grilled onions

Newburg-style Seafood
Fillet of turbot and shrimp with a creamy lobster sauce,
green lentils and mixed vegetables

Japanese Selection
Appetizers of steamed crab and chicken skewer, lotus
root in lemon cup, plum daikon and celery

A main course of mixed seafood with vegetables and
mushroom, clear soup with fish cake, salmon, vinegared
octopus, simmered tofu, mushroom and sugar snap pea,
steamed rice and Japanese-style pickles

I chose the Newburg, still having fond memories of the
turbot United used to serve decades ago out of Europe. This
time the texture was almost right, but the fish, as oceanic
protein so often is these days, seemed to have come right
out of a detergent bath. Very meaty shrimp, almost too firm.
The sauce had probably been introduced to a lobster once at
a dance or something. I liked the lentils; for some reason
I almost always like lentils. Maybe in a previous lifetime
I was born in a kawali or something.

TO FINISH

International Cheese Selection
Grapes and crackers served with Port

Dessert
Ice cream with your choice of toppings

I passed in favor of a Courvoisier.

MID-FLIGHT SNACK

Assorted Sandwiches
Sun-dried tomato basil tortilla wrap with turkey and cheddar
Hummus and Pepper Jack cheese

Red Bean Rice Cake

I like red bean mochi. I remembered just before the end
of the flight to get one, hurrah.

PRIOR TO ARRIVAL

Herbed Scrambled Eggs
Potato gratin and turkey sausage

Pork Katsu
Curry sauce, udon noodles and mixed vegetables

Cereal and Banana
Served with milk

Such a strange thing! The pork probably had been crisp at
one time, but the strange-looking and -tasting sauce had
seeped into the breading so there was this starchy mess on
top of what had been decent meat. I consoled myself with the
thought that this was better than eggs, potato gratin, and
turkey sausage. The noodles were kind of unrecognizable.

UA no longer lists the wine selections in the menu. I'm of
two minds about this. One, it's kind of classless for a
business-class product. Two, on the other hand it does
acknowledge the sad fact that much of the time the printed
list bore faint if any resemblance to what was actually
available on board.

I ran into sea777guy in the transit security line; he
was in the regular people line; I shouted over to him that
I'd be in the ANA 5 lounge, as there was going to be plenty
of time to enjoy the sake bar, the noodle bar, and the semi-
amazing beer machine (not so amazing as the United one, and
I can't put my finger on why).

At the end of security I didn't recognize him. Turns out he
has gained some weight; anyhow, I thought he must have gone
on to the lounge and walked right past him. I hung around
the United Club a couple minutes in the offchance someone I
knew might be there then hustled the kilometer or so to
ANA 5, where he eventually found me.

The food here is more elaborate than at United, and the
drink is of a generally higher order, focusing on Japanese
prestige brands.

Don't bother with the squid ink noodles is my considered
advice. They're sort of sweet and sour and flavorless.
Stick with the Asahi from the machine and maybe a glug of
the notably Scotchlike Hibiki whisky. There are abundant
sweets and assorted sushi (no inarizushi, though) if you
want that sort of thing.

sea777guy reported that there was curry (the famous yellow
S&B no doubt; the Japan Airlines clove-scented black stuff
is more interesting) coming out, but I was too full and too
lazy to seek it out. We sat in the back room like a couple
old guys, comparing notes about recent lengthy hospital
admissions, much fun. He had fallen and broken his wrist
a few months back - a complicated break, as it turns out,
requiring many procedures and much attention. He seems
upbeat about it, though.

An hour in, EsquireFlyer and zcat18 joined us for the usual
round of gabbing about the best fares to places one would
not normally go, the number of peas in the bottom of
business-class seat beds, air traffic control issues, you
know.

And time for the flight, a 10-minute walk past the duty free
shops and sushi bars and stuff.

UA 803 NRT SIN 1805 0045 772 6C Ch9 :td:

I found gvdIAD and upup&away in row 6 and 7 respectively.
We clogged the aisle chatting before the flight. It wasn't
like the good old days when we would fill the forward
business cabin, but there were pleasant resonances.

We took off an hour and change late. The captain was oddly
close-mouthed about this. He made one announcement about how
the airport was inspecting the runway, and he didn't know
exactly why. Consultation next day with friends who had been
on other flights yielded that there had been a bird strike
incident; this United being less than candid stuff only
encourages us to let our imaginations run wild.

Hope Estate (Hunter Valley) Shiraz was if anything more
objectionable than the Bourgogne had been. The purser had
poured my glass with the ironic "I hope you enjoy it."
I switched over to Courvoisier after half a glass, which
the guy acknowledged with a sly grin.

TO BEGIN

Fresh Seasonal Greens
Carrots and cucumber with balsamic vinaigrette

I actually ate a salad. It was salad.

MAIN COURSE

Thai-style Green Curry Chicken
Shredded chicken in green curry sauce, steamed rice
and vegetable and mushroom medley

Fillet of Sea Bass
Gin-an sauce, rice with black sesame seeds, enoki
mushrooms, mizuna and carrots

Pork Medallions
Wasabi cream sauce, potato croquettes, shiitake
mushroom and vegetable medley

The pork, two substantial, well, pack of card size, slices
from the loin, was lightly brined and tender enough, but
somebody had ladled the sauce from the wrong drum, and I got
a distinctive taste of putrefaction and mold blue cheese.
After the indicated cosmetic surgery, the meat tasted okay.
Potato croquettes were gummy and unpleasant, the vegetables
greasy but in a good way.

TO FINISH

Dessert
Orange cake

?

Not much headwind, so we shaved a few minutes off and landed
only an hour late.

I hustled as fast as possible to the transit hotel, where
lili awaited, her flight, though scheduled to come in later
and delayed by the same incident, having preceded ours by a
good quarter hour or more. I suspect the foreigner tax -
hers had been on Japan Airlines.
==

It is good to reserve. The transit hotel was turning people
away left and right, but they'd saved us a nice big room for
our whopping 6 hours. Sleeping is good, even if it costs a
hundred smackers, one of the reasons we most frequently
double up.

In the morning, out into the real world, where it was
decided that breakfast was in order. I steered us to a food
court (they seem to be everywhere in this airport) where she
could get American food and I could get food.

Upstairs there's a balcony with a simulated hawker center
plus some chain representation. I went over and inspected
all the offerings. There was a roast meat stall that looked
promising, so I went there and ordered a roast duck and
pork combo without rice, S10, about double what it would
cost in Chinatown but half what it costs at Fung Lum in
San Fran, where I have always had good luck despite all
the bad things you read about it on the Internet. I managed
to ball up the payment process and annoy everyone - seems
you order, the attendant tells you what to pay, then you go
over to a kiosk where another attendant takes your payment
and - this is the weird part - gives you a card that you
then go back and give to the food person. This avoids the
food person handling money and the money person handling
food. I didn't get that at first.

Meanwhile lili was off at the Mince Monarch getting a bacon
and egg biscuit made with Halal bacon-surrogate. Another
just say no food.

Immigration was as always a piece of cake. lili got a few
questions; I got none.

It's a buck ride to town on the SMRT, with changes at Tanah
Merah and Paya Lebar (the names alone make me feel the
tropical breeze and smell the smell of Asia and make me want
to go right back there). Forty minutes or so to the Conrad,
twice what the $30 cab ride takes but more fun. You get off
at Promenade, a new stop just a couple years old so pretty
much off my radar, and through the mall, and there you are.

We were hugely early and were informed that our room would
be ready at two, but we were welcome to store our bags at
the front desk and go up to the lounge for drinks, which we
did. Chilled with red wine (for her) and Coke (for me), and
then it was time to meet our colleagues for lunch at Din Tai
Fung, one of the outlets in the now-huge, probably closing
in on a hundred locations, dumpling empire.

A funny thing happened on the way to the dumpling house.
I wanted to pay homage (and perhaps have a snack) at Mang
Kiko, the lechon stall at Somerset, but when I got there,
there was no sign that it had ever existed - the area was
paved over as a skateboard rink that seemed to have been
decades old. Oh, well, thought I, another day, another
alternate universe. Another funny thing. When we got to the
Paragon mall, I couldn't find the restaurant, though I'd
eaten there several times before. Turns out I'd forgotten a
crucial left turn in the rabbit warrens under the shopping
center (an alternate universe for sure! - next year, it will
be a right turn, mark my words). We got there right on time
only to find a crowd of hungry fliers milling about in the
corridor out front. It turns out someone apparently had
cancelled our reservation by mistake, and the staff were
hustling to get tables set up in the back room.

Our table featured chiefs and indians in about the right
proportion, though there still turned out to be some
duplication in ordering, not that much of a problem, as
at the far end there were some young trenchermen who would
(and did) eat almost anything. Over at our end, three
finicky eaters in a row, spaceman, gvdIAD, and lili. More
for me, I thought evilly, though that turned out not to be
the case.

The small steamed soup dumplings are the specialty of the
house. These are the dish that earned at least one of the
outlets a Michelin star (which all the others have taken
credit for, as if by osmosis); they come in various flavors,
and we got several - pork (the classic), pork and crab
(Greg likes these), and chicken (I don't know whose
fault these were). They came all jumbled up, several trays
at a time, without any indication of what was what. Solution
- I took one from each tray and pronounced which was which.
Greg was ceded most of the crabbies, as that was pretty
much all he was going to eat. I ended up with mostly chicken
- rightly eschewed by most of the company -, which didn't
have the intensity of flavor of the pork ones.

There were the usual run of shrimp pastries (good but not
special and quite expensive) and big bao dze (some filled
with pork and crab, a mistake, as the crab adds to the cost
but gets lost in the puffy wondrous bread); also some
oddities. Someone ordered star-anise beef shin; I changed
the order to two; three came. I love this dish - sort of
Chinese souse made of tendony meat, not unlike what topped
the noodles at the First lounge -, but others not so much,
so I ended up with a bunch of that, too. Greg was intrigued
by the pork and cucumber in hoisin, so we got that, and it
turned out to be dreadful and was sent over to the other
end of the table, where it may or may not have been eaten.

The bill was more than it would have been with centralized
and careful ordering but still quite within range, even
including an arbitrary number of Tiger beers.

Back to the Conrad, where by now we'd been given a room and
our bags deposited in it. It wasn't my favorite room, being
foot or two shorter than what I'm accustomed to and facing
the other (apparently more prestigious though, as it has an
ocean view, if you peek out past the Pan Pacific and the
Mandarin) side. I am not sure, but I think that when I'm
alone I get a king room that feels slightly more spacious.

Afternoon tea with dim sum that just cannot compare, big
surprise; assorted sandwich fixings and salads; and sweets,
some of which are decent, especially the panna cotta. I
recommend the panna cotta.

Oh yeah, there's a Cabernet and a Shiraz-Cabernet. Get
the former. Remember to add the clearly enunciated word
Sauvignon. You won't be sorry.

We passed up the large FT gathering for a smaller one that
infoworks prearranged for a group of old friends at the Kok
Sen Coffeehouse, scene of our former triumphs before the Do
outgrew it.

A delicious Cantonese comfort-food meal washed down with
Tiger beers. I went light on the beers in anticipation of
the nocturnal nomadism to follow. Our dishes:

roast chicken - standard, nicely done with a soy-basted very
dark appetizing-looking skin; I ate more skin than meat, as
my tastes run different from most westerners';

beef with scallions - ditto, ordered for lili's benefit,
tame but good with the sambal provided on the side;

fried pomfret - this was absolutely delicious, the fish of
utmost freshness, fried crisp outside, tender and flaky
inside, in a soy-scallion-ginger sauce that I associate with
steamed fish; and for the veggie lovers,

gailan in garlic sauce and baby bok choy in the usual white
Cantonese sauce, both fresh and good.

Much hilarity amid a select group that have known each other
for over a decade. I sort of regret missing the big dinner
but sort of don't regret it, if you know what I mean.

At closing time we reluctantly said our goodbyes, and
infoworks accompanied me to Boat Quay, where the partygoers
were gathering at the fashionable nightspot Mogambo before
the traditional midnight hawker center event at Lau Pa Sat.

Beers here are four times what they were at Kok Sen, plus
they were warm. One does get to watch the long-legged young
girls and the young men who circle them like flies.

After a few beers the call was not to Lau Pa Sat but rather
Newton - which is more hopping at night and, importantly,
closer to the Hyatt and the Sheraton and the Marriott where
most of the people were staying. I had had my heart set on
Lau Pa Sat, though, but was told that all the stalls would
be closed anyway. I said tsai jien to everyone, and
infoworks and I walked northward, he to the IC, I back home.

It was a bit of an adventure to get there, though, as owing
to construction and the lateness of the hour, the route I
normally take was closed off in several spots, so instead of
the nice relaxing walk along the river to the Esplanade and
the heartwarming view of the lit-up Merlion, I was detoured
around through a closed parking garage, a construction site,
an operational parking garage, and finally to the hotel.

Breakfast at the Conrad is the usual cornucopia, but there
were a few disappointments, largely attributable to our
showing up shortly before closing time. First, the Chinese
noodles were gummier than usual (of course: they were old).
Then I was heading for the sushi bar, which was kind of
sparsely furnished by this time, when a bunch of young
lean types beat me to it; these were wearing Conrad logo
bicycling outfits and were all obviously part of a gang,
some taking the food while their mates watched their backs.
When they'd locusted up, there were but three little sad
slices of white fish left, of which I took two, consoling
myself with a few slices of admittedly excellent smoked
salmon. Staff had stopped refilling the juice carafes by
this time, so that was bad (you could ask for orange, but
I really wanted the guava and watermelon and others that
were out). Finally, the fresh fruit were like rocks. Not
to complain too much, there was still plenty to eat,
such as the industrial dim sum and the bacon (placed
thoughtfully next to the halal chicken sausage) and whatnot.
lili had a quite contrasting experience. She ordered a
waffle at the counter, and when the waffles came out she
grabbed one and returned to the table. Whereupon the chef
came out and smilingly handed her another, her custom-made
one! So I got my first taste of the Conrad waffle. It was
good. Note: the syrup that came with the custom waffle was
not real - it was jie mai ma or similar; that on the buffet
is real maple, and, yes, the difference is noticeable.

We walked around town a bit - lili reminded me that the
first time we had done this, I'd showed her around town but
very slowly, as I was in the middle of heart failure at the
time, and this day we were relatively sprightly. Our
destination, Lau Pa Sat, which I had my heart set on seeing
after its recent renovation. Well, it's renovated. Well,
it's only about half rented. There's the usual run of stuff,
plus some oddities - a South American stall, for example.

Guess what we found. Mang Kiko, or at least an offspring of
it. I got a lechon kawali and "vegetable" combo special.
lili said, you're going to the Philippines in a few days,
why eat Filipino food now? to which the response was, I like
it (plus it's cheap). The fried pork belly was excellent.
The rice was excellent. The "vegetable" was black-eyed peas,
which I disdain, cooked to a mush. Luckily, the condiment
table offered vinegar and chopped hot peppers. Also, there's
a tureen of free-flow pork bone soup (well spiced, salty,
sour) to drink and to moisten your rice and flavor your
vegetable. lili consented to try a couple bites of pork
(she said she liked it) but made most of her meal of a
bottle of Diet Coke.

We ducked into the Fullerton to enjoy the expansiveness of
the interior, plus the restrooms and the air conditioning,
and then walked back along the river and Esplanade route
that had been blocked the previous night, passing the
government buildings, the Jose Rizal monument, and a whole
string of lurid anti-crime posters plastered up around the
construction sites. It was a gorgeous day, the temperature
about 27 (80F) with a gentle breeze.

A relaxed afternoon, followed by drinks at the lounge, and
an 8:00 rendezvous in the lobby to sort out transport. Only
two cabs were required, as the focus of this gathering has
changed to the Grand Hyatt; back in the olden mjm-led days
we'd get multiple vans from the Conrad.

I wonder about the continued viability of the SIN Dos,
though. I say this as participant in eleven of the thirteen
events. It used to be a way to maximize use of expiring SWUs
on $700 upgradeable fares and stay in $50 4-star hotels.
Or one could stay at the Conrad for $100-odd or in Little
India for $20. I used to do this on my own before Dos and
perhaps before FT but welcomed the company of likeminded
folks when the time came. Gradually, though, as the city has
reinvented itself as a playground for the rich and famous,
it's begun to price itself out of my range - it's certainly
not a bargain destination any more, and, aside from the
excellent food and the opportunity to thaw out in the midst
of the northeastern winter, the original reasons for doing
the Do are gone. I've heard rumors that the MLK weekend
Do may be relocating? I'd recommend Manila, but there are
those among us who hate Manila. Taipei? Bangkok?

Anyhow, on to Jumbo Dempsey Hill, where four or five big
tables were set up to accommodate us. I sat at the lots o'
crab table, where lowjhg, the younger of our organizers, had
ordered a bunch of stuff. I suspect that a bit more ordering
went on as people waxed nostalgic or lustful for a
particular dish or another. We ended up with a lot of food,
of which I ate the following.

Chilli crab, a large heaping platter, and pepper crab, a
moderately large heaping platter. Both were excellent,
the crabs fresh and the sauces well executed. The chilli
sauce was subtler and less sweet than at many other places,
but I still prefer pepper crab, as the savoriness and bite
of the pepper contrasts well with the sweet meat; with the
chilli, it's sweet upon sweet. Note to future table
captains, if such there be: one can also get salted egg
crab and numerous other equally tasty preparations.

Shrimp wrapped in bean curd skin was the usual thing - I
suspect someone wanted it as an homage to his childhood.
Not that I'm complaining, of course.

A whole tilapia invited invidious comparison with the
pomfret from the other night. This fish was not the mushy
tank-farmed thing that we get as cheap protein here in the
States, but it still didn't compare with that pomfret.

Sambal kangkong was a nice example, and it was a big
serving.

Lots of beer. We were also at the lots o' beer table.

lili reports that the no seafood table spent a little more
than half the 90 we did. The menu sounded pretty good too,
but I don't regret the extra expense, especially given I
got all the crab I could chow down on.

It became time to adjourn, and, though I thought I wasn't
going to, the fact was that I wasn't flying out the next
day, so, party at bschaff1's suite on top of the Hyatt?

Sure thing.

Long story short, the party didn't disperse until after 3,
and I had quite a bit of this Explorers' Club Spice Road
stuff. bschaff1 asked me what I thought of it. Delicious,
very smooth, but a little generic and a little sweet. The
spiciness implied by the name didn't hit me much, but a
little citrusy or apricotty aroma came out with the
(rather moderate) smoke. Noting my dubiety, he said, but
you'd pay forty bucks for it, right? I allowed as I would.

Thank goodness for twos, of which I had a wad to get home
with. I staggered in and hit the sack.

3K 765 SIN MNL 1630 2010 320 14DE

lili agreed to breakfast in the executive lounge, which
offers most of the things I would want and enough to satisfy
her, especially after I informed her she could order an
omelet or other special eggs from downstairs. She ended up
having scrambled anyway. There are no longer bottles of
Chandon (Australia) bubbly out for self-service. I didn't
check to see if it was available on order but suspect it is.

We had 2 pm checkouts and at that time reversed our route
on the subway, getting to the airport early with few false
steps. We'd consolidated bags so as to have to check only
one, which was accepted without fee (I think this is a
negotiated deal with Expedia).

Passport control took seconds.

lili was shaking with hunger but insisted on soldiering on
until it became clear that there wasn't any food near this
particular gate area, so we backtracked to Immigration,
where she had seen numerous (as it turns out illusory)
restaurants. We ended up at a food court on the second floor
where I could get a beer (something like $12) and she could
get some crunchy gucka from Texas Chicken (less than that)
that turned out to be not too bad. Mashed taters (from an
unknown source and manufacturing technique) and gravy (from
beef bouillon) were wretched, and a biscuit was laughable.

We returned to the gate area around last call. Security and
boarding were a snap, and there was still plenty of overhead
space when we got to our seats, which had wretched Asia-size
legroom but were otherwise okay. Our seatmate at the window
had to get up several times, but that was okay.

A bumpyish flight.

At some point lili, who had extra SGD in her pocket, wanted
wine and offered to buy me an Asahi for S$6. Well, a
Budweiser and party snack combo cost the same, and Asahi is
not substantially better, so that's what I had. Her Barossa
Shiraz (strange name, Kook's or something) was better than
airplane wine usually is, though a little sweet and obvious.
Party snack, by the way, includes wasabi peas, fava beans,
peanuts, spicy cracker things, and assorted floor sweepings,
though not bad for that.

The flight came in quite early, and the bags came out within
10 of landing, so we were on our way before the scheduled
arrival time, immigration taking mere seconds and changing
money (not a bad rate at the kiosk) not much more than that.

I'd e-mailed the hotel about getting a car service, with no
response. Optimistically, I went off to see if the car from
the hotel had come anyway, which it hadn't. Some tout came
up and offered to call the hotel for us. He said the number
didn't work. I was sure he called a dummy number. Luckily,
lili's phone has an international calling capability, which
she'd never used before. It came in handy, even at $2 a
minute. I got hold of the front desk, which told me that
they'd discontinued the car service (this hasn't been
communicated to Venere, Agoda, Orbitz, Expedia, and so on).
The tout triumphantly led us to his company's kiosk, where
a battered rate sheet showed P1200 for the trip. Having
done our research, we knew that the private car was P660 and
a regular metered taxi was going to be P200 or under. We
said no to the guy, who looked very crestfallen. We went off
and another tout accosted us. P440. What the heck, I said,
we'll do it. In retrospect, this appears to be a multilevel
scam: the 1200 tout is there just to prepare us for the 440
tout, but if he gets a bite at 1200, so much the better.
Anyhow, the ride was in a brand spanking new clean van, with
a driver who seemed competent. We were at our hotel in half
an hour, traffic being as it is.

Metro Manila consists of I believe 17 cities, only one of
which is Manila. The central business district is Makati,
in which there are offices, shopping malls, the stock
exchange, and the Shangri-La, Renaissance, Peninsula,
Fairmont, you get the idea. If you saw only downtown, you'd
imagine a modern metropolis a la Singapore. Actually, to me
the vibe is similar to that I found when I first visited
Singapore and KL a couple decades ago.

The hotel I chose, after some research, the Guijo Suites
Makati, isn't quite in what people think of as Makati (it's
near the seedier part of Santa Ana to the north), but it's
convenient enough, and safe enough, and the accommodations
turned out to be fine. We were assigned to the newer
building of two, all the rooms having a decent window; the
major complaint about across the street was that some of
the rooms had inadequate windows.

The front desk staff were, even at a relatively late hour,
cheery and helpful. The digs were of a decent size, the
bathroom fixtures all worked, as did the air conditioning,
so pretty much all was fine. We shared a somewhat mildewed
bathroom, which, after a night of having the fan on and the
light on, pretty much cleaned itself up.

When we had installed ourselves and staked out territories,
the next order of business was to check out the lobby bar.

Prices were competitive (we found divey places during the
week that charged about 25% less, but they were pretty
scuzzy). San Mig pale and light were both 5% alcohol and
P60; Nottage Hill Shiraz was an absurd 1500 the bottle,
so lili did without, settling for Jack Daniel's at 200 a
shot plus extra for mixers. So it was easy to get modestly
buzzed for a modest amount of money. By the way, San Miguel
Pale tastes completely different here than in the US. I far
prefer the export product and in the future ordered the
light instead. In fact, several of the establishments we
later patronized served only the light.

Note to bargain hunters: the minibar San Mig light is P45,
though the regular runs 60 there.

--

Breakfast is included. It's adequate but sort of peculiar.

The constants are scrambled eggs, cereal and milk, breakfast
breads, coffee, water (iced or tepid), plain rice, and
substandard fruit - unripe pineapple and unripe watermelon.

The variables are soup, a pasta dish, and some protein.

On this first day:

Pumpkin soup was a medium-thin puree with probably a chicken
base; it was not bad at all, actually.

What was labeled as tomato mushroom pasta was essentially
plain spaghetti with butter and basil. Perhaps someone had
picked all the tomatoes and mushrooms out already.

Ham, gelatinized and tasteless, was there every day but one.

There was a beef sausage of an odd crumbly texture and
pretty much no flavor.

Enough to kick-start one's day.

I asked the front desk for a city map, which most reputable
hotels offer for free, and was told that I'd have to go to
the National Book Store in the mall district in downtown
Makati. I didn't want to brave downtown Makati without a map
so an Internet search yielded an outlet of what seems to be
the Barnes & Noble of the Philippines at the Cash & Carry
shopping center just a kilometer from the hotel.

It turns out that at morning rush this is quite a harrowing
kilometer, crossing a busy road with adequate but generally
disobeyed lights and then a large highway with little if any
guidance (but every couple blocks, there's a cop stationed,
so the more timid are occasionally given a chance).

The National Book Store has a whole assortment of maps and
atlases, so we got the Metro Manila Citiatlas by Accu-map
("18 years cartography excellence"), a pretty comprehensive
book covering the whole area. It turned out to be quite
worthwhile, for even though we mostly confined our
wanderings to Makati and two adjoining municipalities, it
was helpful to check out all the streets in our vicinity
and be reassured of exactly where we were.

Just for the sake of science, we checked out the food court
on the second floor, where among other promising places I
found Sisig Hooray, a stall dedicated to the proposition
that pig hash goes well with rice (it is traditionally eaten
straight up and washed down with beer). Turns out this
version was maybe the best I've ever had, atypical, though.
It had fewer naughty bits and more crunchy crackling, which
is points in favor in my book; also this dry preparation has
condiments mixed in to order (vinegar, soy, patis, hot
peppers, red onion, calamansi) so that instead of it sitting
around getting soggy it's a nice combination of crisp and
freshly softened. It comes with a big mound of decent rice.
I asked for double hot peppers, which got a dubious glance
from the attendant; it was enough, just barely. P65 for a
generous meal that could have fed two in a pinch.

Back to home base, walking via the Buendia train station
(filthy and chaotic - though I'd planned on using public
transport, it was agreed that we would take taxis instead),
Gil Puyat Avenue, Ayala Avenue, and the Sacred Heart
Cathedral, an early 21st-century monument in the faceless
modern Catholic architecture style.

Showers in the middle of the day are a good idea.

I had been given the impression that lili wanted to see the
Glorietta and Greenbelt mall complex, so I dragged her down
there (a bit over a mile down Ayala) only to find that what
she really wanted to see was the Ayala Museum.

On the way we passed a McDonalds, actually several of them.
Someone partook gratefully. A Big Mac costs almost what it
does in the US.

We walked around Glorietta a little and noted Mad Max's,
which is supposed to be one of the best spots for a
popular-priced steak. No wine and beer license, but a
corkage arrangement. We noted all this for later (but
ended up not coming back).

Interesting that whenever you walk into a bank, shopping
center, or public building, you get either a hand search
or metal detected. I wonder what the incidence of armed
crime is here (it is certainly high down south).

The Ayala Museum, as it turns out, is a pretty worthwhile
destination. You start at the top, with its famous funerary
gold collection and assorted Asian ceramics, then go down
stairs to the art galleries that feature works of apparently
influential local artists Juan Luna, Fernando Amorsolo, and
Fernando Zobel. Another flight down brings you to a set of
60 dioramas that give a Cliff's Notes version of Philippine
history. We spent a happy couple hours here; the admission
is relatively high, but we thought it worth the expense. It
closes at 6, so we had just time to hustle back to the hotel
while it was light enough to ensure I wouldn't fall into a
hole or ditch (of which there are many, even in this fairly
civilized part of town). Allow an hour; double that if you
want to do the diorama thing.

In looking for places to eat near the hotel, one in
particular caught my eye - TJ Grill, according to Google
about 3 blocks away. Looked like a good place to get roast
meat and beer, so we went off to where we thought it should
be. Not there. Just another block or two, we kept saying.
Eventually we met a guy closing his shop who said he knew
the place and pointed still further down the road, so we
kept slogging on. Next thing we knew, we were way off near
the Cruz train station, no restaurant. Nothing promising
even when we fanned a block in one direction or another.
Defeated, we returned to the hotel, where drinks beckoned.
For about five times the price of the delicious crispy sisig
at Cash & Carry, the hotel served us (me, actually, though I
picked out a few safe morsels for lili to taste) a totally
different sisig, this one more like what I'm accustomed to -
a hash of pig parts (liver, ears, snout, skin, blood, with
some shoulder) seasoned with vinegar and topped with an egg.
This was also delicious but not as delicious, and in a
totally different way. It was a serving enough for a main
dish for two, despite its being on the appetizer list.

So I didn't go to bed hungry.

Breakfast stuff: egg drop soup, chicken bee hoon, a sausage
thing with raisins called embutido, and a pandan coconut
agar sweet that I made most of my meal of.

We had the doorman call us a cab to Manila. I wanted to pay
homage to the father of Philippine independence, having done
so in Singapore not so long ago, after all, and anyhow
that's what you do in this country.

Rizal Park was closed. I should have figured, because that's
where the Pope had celebrated his last Mass in the country
the day before. Though the cleanup was pretty much complete,
the barriers were still up, so we walked around rather than
through the park (not much fun) and decided to cut over to
Intramuros, the original Spanish fortification and the main
historical district of the city. It's not old by either
Asian or European standards, having been originally built
in 1574, but it's what they've got, and it's worthwhile.

There are touts everywhere.

We pushed past them and up General Luna, the main drag, to
the church of S. Agustin, a UNESCO World Heritage site
dating from 1607 and the only major structure that survived
the earthquake of 1863. A Mass was being celebrated, so we
didn't linger long there. Then we veered off away from the
tourist area to the PC barracks ruins and then the Baluarte
de San Diego, within which have been planted gardens that
were featured in the Hemispheres Three Perfect Days a year
or two ago. Nice bonsai, and lili found the bonsai master
and chatted with him for a while. This was a highlight.

We walked along the wall as far as possible and then visited
the Cathedral, a mid-20th structure that recently underwent
extensive renovations and that has within the year been
reopened.

North to Fort Santiago, site of some of the most notable
events of Philippine history, where we spent a couple hours.
In addition to the fort itself (16th century, damaged and
restored several times, most notably during WWII) there is
the Rizal shrine and museum, offering a facsimile of his
ancestral home and what is billed as the actual cell he
was confined in before his execution.

We had this cockamamie idea to ride the Pasig River ferry
back home, which entailed finding the Plaza Mexico (not in
my atlas). Luckily, there were cops around, and after some
serious consultation it was decided that we should walk
about six blocks over and to the river. And that's where
it was, just past the Intendencia ruins (looked just like
any decrepit building in any decrepit town). There's a
ticket window, the ubiquitous security check, and a nice
outdoor waiting area from which we watched the local street
urchins diving into the murky river and swimming to the
giant lily islands that floated past. The ferry came a bit
late, and one got the impression that it was more a proof
of concept than a working operation. This run was a fairly
modern catamaran that accommodated 30-odd - hardly enough
to make a dent in the commuter traffic to and from the city
but at least a good idea. It was a pleasant enough ride
along a very urban but not too disgusting waterway.

We got off at the Santa Ana market building - by this time
mostly closed up for the day, just a few stalls left
desperately trying to unload some picked-over vegetables -
and walked south through a slightly dodgy neighborhood down
toward Chino Roces and the hotel. It was just about dark by
the time we got there.

101 Hawker Food House is a renowned cheap eats restaurant
right among the Makati office towers. I'd heard good things
and was especially looking forward to trying the Filipino
take on Chinese braised pork shoulder and was pleased to
find it a component of the sampler platter, so we ordered
this to split. Consternation on the face of the young waiter
- turns out they couldn't make the sampler platter, because
the braised pork was out :( :( :( I suggested that a second
order of lechon kawali (crispy pork belly) be substituted,
which was readily agreed to. The lechon was quite good,
though the skin was more hard than it ought to be (if basted
properly during cooking, it bubbles up and becomes crunchy
tender rather than crunchy hard). Also on the platter were
asado (beef stew) and soy sauce chicken, both unremarkable
but wholesome. Accompaniments: chicken soup that tasted like
bouillon; a capsicum sauce that was much more green peppery
than spicy; a ginger-garlic sauce that I kind of liked;
kecap manis (sweet soy) out of a bottle; and hot oil, of
which I used the whole dish. A dish of strange dryish rice
cost P20 extra. San Mig Light was P40 only.

It was dark going home, and I turned my ankle a little -
nothing that a little stretching couldn't deal with, though.

Breakfast stuff: egg drop soup, chicken bee hoon, a sausage
thing with raisins called embutido, and a pandan coconut
agar sweet that I made most of my meal of.

We had the doorman call us a cab to Manila. I wanted to pay
homage to the father of Philippine independence, having done
so in Singapore not so long ago, after all, and anyhow
that's what you do in this country.

Rizal Park was closed. I should have figured, because that's
where the Pope had celebrated his last Mass in the country
the day before. Though the cleanup was pretty much complete,
the barriers were still up, so we walked around rather than
through the park (not much fun) and decided to cut over to
Intramuros, the original Spanish fortification and the main
historical district of the city. It's not old by either
Asian or European standards, having been originally built
in 1574, but it's what they've got, and it's worthwhile.

There are touts everywhere.

We pushed past them and up General Luna, the main drag, to
the church of S. Agustin, a UNESCO World Heritage site
dating from 1607 and the only major structure that survived
the earthquake of 1863. A Mass was being celebrated, so we
didn't linger long there. Then we veered off away from the
tourist area to the PC barracks ruins and then the Baluarte
de San Diego, within which have been planted gardens that
were featured in the Hemispheres Three Perfect Days a year
or two ago. Nice bonsai, and lili found the bonsai master
and chatted with him for a while. This was a highlight.

We walked along the wall as far as possible and then visited
the Cathedral, a mid-20th structure that recently underwent
extensive renovations and that has within the year been
reopened.

North to Fort Santiago, site of some of the most notable
events of Philippine history, where we spent a couple hours.
In addition to the fort itself (16th century, damaged and
restored several times, most notably during WWII) there is
the Rizal shrine and museum, offering a facsimile of his
ancestral home and what is billed as the actual cell he
was confined in before his execution.

We had this cockamamie idea to ride the Pasig River ferry
back home, which entailed finding the Plaza Mexico (not in
my atlas). Luckily, there were cops around, and after some
serious consultation it was decided that we should walk
about six blocks over and to the river. And that's where
it was, just past the Intendencia ruins (looked just like
any decrepit building in any decrepit town). There's a
ticket window, the ubiquitous security check, and a nice
outdoor waiting area from which we watched the local street
urchins diving into the murky river and swimming to the
giant lily islands that floated past. The ferry came a bit
late, and one got the impression that it was more a proof
of concept than a working operation. This run was a fairly
modern catamaran that accommodated 30-odd - hardly enough
to make a dent in the commuter traffic to and from the city
but at least a good idea. It was a pleasant enough ride
along a very urban but not too disgusting waterway.

We got off at the Santa Ana market building - by this time
mostly closed up for the day, just a few stalls left
desperately trying to unload some picked-over vegetables -
and walked south through a slightly dodgy neighborhood down
toward Chino Roces and the hotel. It was just about dark by
the time we got there.

101 Hawker Food House is a renowned cheap eats restaurant
right among the Makati office towers. I'd heard good things
and was especially looking forward to trying the Filipino
take on Chinese braised pork shoulder and was pleased to
find it a component of the sampler platter, so we ordered
this to split. Consternation on the face of the young waiter
- turns out they couldn't make the sampler platter, because
the braised pork was out :( :( :( I suggested that a second
order of lechon kawali (crispy pork belly) be substituted,
which was readily agreed to. The lechon was quite good,
though the skin was more hard than it ought to be (if basted
properly during cooking, it bubbles up and becomes crunchy
tender rather than crunchy hard). Also on the platter were
asado (beef stew) and soy sauce chicken, both unremarkable
but wholesome. Accompaniments: chicken soup that tasted like
bouillon; a capsicum sauce that was much more green peppery
than spicy; a ginger-garlic sauce that I kind of liked;
kecap manis (sweet soy) out of a bottle; and hot oil, of
which I used the whole dish. A dish of strange dryish rice
cost P20 extra. San Mig Light was P40 only.

It was dark going home, and I turned my ankle a little -
nothing that a little stretching couldn't deal with, though.

Breakfast: spinach soup, Singapore noodles (quite poor);
dried anchovies and salted egg; chicken hot dog; a replay of
the agar. This time barely enough to forage. The soup was
especially notable for tasting like rotted leaves.

A taxi to the National Museum took almost the exact route
that the previous one had - it looks on the map to be a bit
zigzaggy, but I think (mind I say I think) the drivers
avoid some bottlenecks this way, either that or there's some
grand conspiracy among the industry. Two subsequent rides in
the other direction took closely parallel routes.

The Museum of the Filipino People is mostly made up of a
pretty interesting ethnological collection with some cursory
nods to the natural sciences and some cool archeological
stuff (though, interestingly, the Philippine gold, so richly
displayed at the Ayala, was nowhere to be found). Allow an
hour to two hours depending on whether you like old-style
museums or whether they annoy you.

Across Finance Rd. and down the way is the National Art
Museum; there's not a safe place to cross, but a museum
staffer wades out in traffic and holds his hand up, and you
scurry around the trucks and taxis to get to the other side.
Cheaper than building an overpass I suppose. A notable
feature is that the permanent collection, such as is
displayed here, is all of Filipino artists. There are a few
works by foreigners in some temporary exhibits, but all of
them lived in the Philippines. I was struck by a room of
mid-20th-century impressionist/realists collectively called
Dimasalang (after Jose Rizal's pen-name) - Sym Mendoza,
Romulo Galiciano, and others -, who painted evocative images
of Manila from that generation. The permanent collection
also includes a lot of religious stuff, which didn't move
me; it was reminiscent of Spanish and German art of a few
centuries before. Fistfuls of modern art, mostly leftist in
theme; nothing, not a piece, by my new favorite Zobel, who I
thought from what I'd seen was a particularly bright light
in Filipino art. Turns out he was a Spanish citizen, so that
might be part of why he is excluded from the exhibitions;
also that he was from a prominent fascist-leaning family,
which also might color things. So why is his work so
prominently featured at the Ayala Museum and not elsewhere?
It turns out his full name was Fernando Zobel de Ayala y
Montojo, and the Ayala Museum, though not built under his
watch, had been his idea. Allow 90 minutes to two hours.

As we were close to Intramuros, and I was hungry, we walked
to the well-reviewed Patio de Conchita, which is in an old
house and has a really wonderful seedy old feeling about it.
It was of course siesta time, but they opened the cafeteria
line for us, and we had a tasty if shopworn meal. Instead of
keeping the food warm on the steam table, each individual
dish is warmed up in a skillet when ordered and has that
reheated taste that some don't mind and some (read lili)
abhor. I got two dishes for us, rice, and a bunch of beers.

Adobo smelled pretty good, so I asked for that. The first
piece, which looked nice and fatty, I gave to lili, and she
ate it with pleasure. Unfortunately the rest was a mixture
of chicken and beef, obviously leftovers from the lunch
rush thrown into one dish, rather shrivelled but tasty.

Pork belly in sweet soy was pretty decent, though also not
in its first youth. It was also from a native pig, so rather
gamy (good) and not very fatty (bad). Which led me to the
speculation of what would happen if you force-fed pigs to
make foie gras. Which reminds me that, contrary to popular
impression, pigs will stop eating when they are no longer
hungry.

The rice was good, and lili deigned to eat some of that.

I tried a Red Horse, San Miguel's strong product. It was
malty and alcoholly, nothing special - like the light with a
shot of Tanduay in it. lili had a San Mig light, P20 less. I
wish I'd read the writeup on the product site: "Red Horse
Beer is your extra strong beer that brings you that pure
alcoholic experience. It is not your ordinary beer -
rebellious and flavorful yet bold and intense. It is sweet
and bitter smooth, giving you a fueled kick. Excite yourself
with this deeply hued distinct tasting beer." Pure alcoholic
experience? Fueled kick? All righty then.

The taxi back to the hotel, hailed from near Plaza Espana,
was meter plus 100 (rush hour, the driver said). I shrugged
and said okay, whereupon the guy took us on a hair-raising
trip through the worst of traffic that got us back in half
the time the trip over had, at only about P75 more. Well
worth it.

That had been a small meal - for her a tiny one -, so we
went off prowling for more sustenance shortly after dark.
This involved crossing a number of busy streets and barely
avoiding various holes in the sidewalk.

I found a stall off Chino Roces that smelled really good;
we plopped down on the plastic chairs out there and had an
assortment of satays and a Coke; this came to P59 for a
modest meal. Pork was standard, that is to say pretty
yummy. Chicken gizzard, which lili wouldn't touch, was
crunchy rather than chewy, the yummiest of all. Chicken
intestine was stuffed in the Latin style, which made it
kind of strange (we encountered this issue as well with the
beef intestine at Don Julio in Buenos Aires), but it was
inoffensive enough. I believe lili wouldn't even look at me
when I ate this.

By way of reward, I took her to McDonalds on the corner of
Kamagong for a Big Mac, which she found less fresh and less
good than that in downtown Makati a day or two before. Still
it did the job.

Back at the hotel I had a shot or two of Fundador (quite
acrid, not much fruit, lots of neutral spiritlike taste,
worse than what I recall it being) instead of my usual.