There’s something surreal about flying across the world alone, knowing that on the other side of the ocean, your life is about to feel completely different.

Somewhere mid-flight, I had the realization I was flying over the Philippine Sea, one of the deepest parts of the planet. Meanwhile I’m up there taking naps and eating airplane pasta like everything is normal.

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Manila Hits You All at Once (In the Best Way) 

Landing in Manila is not subtle.

It’s heat, movement, honking, people, the powerlines (if you know you know).. like the city grabs your face and goes “Hi, welcome, you’re alive now.”

Because my aunt Zhee lives there, I skipped the tourist starter pack and went straight into local mode:

• Rode a jeepney (basically if a bus and a rave had a baby.. loud, colorful, slightly chaotic, and somehow perfect)
• Walked through street markets + fish markets where everything feels alive and real
• Said hi to every stray cat like they were my long lost cousins
• Drank fresh buko juice because hydration but make it aesthetic
• Attempted Tagalog… respectfully… but let’s just say my accent was fighting for its life

We even went to a library, which felt like hitting a “pause” button in the middle of a city that doesn’t really believe in pausing.

And then I experienced my first joyride.

A joyride is literally just… driving around on the back of a motorcycle with a stranger.

Honestly? Elite form of sightseeing.

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When the Group Chat Becomes Real Life 

When the rest of the crew arrived to Manila, suddenly it went from “soft launch” to full cast.

First stop: Jollibee.
And listen… I get it now. I understand the emotional attachment. No further questions.

We got massages (as we should), ate homemade meals that felt illegal to be that good, and met friends who treated me like I’d been there for years.

That night, we went out and this is where Manila really got me.

I was at the bar, doing my best with Tagalog. Not perfect, not fluent, just trying. And the bartender ate (like “big sister,” a respect thing) noticed. She brought me out a crème brûlée with sparklers. Not for being good at it. Just for caring enough to try.

And I was like… oh. This place is different. The people here are different.

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Slightly Hungover, Deeply Cultured 

The next morning came fast. Violently fast.

But we walked through Intramuros, the old walled city that feels like stepping into another timeline.

Cobblestone streets, Spanish architecture, history everywhere, you can feel it.

We had a long lunch (needed), kept exploring, and then casually learned that Binondo is the oldest Chinatown in the world.

At some point I became very aware I was the only blonde in Manila, like, the only one. Which meant a lot of smiles, double takes, photos, filming, and getting called out everywhere I went. Low-key felt like a celebrity for no real reason.

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The Soft Shift Before the Dream 

And then… just like that, days had passed and we were packing again.

One-hour flight.
Eight days ahead.
A completely different energy waiting.

Manila felt like being introduced to life again.. raw, real, human, unfiltered.

Boracay?

I already knew she was about to be the main character chapter.

Stay tuned.