Segway Tour of Intramuros


(Segways in front of San Agustin Church)

If there was an award for the most hyperbolic marketing flyer, the pamphlet by White Knight Tours would win it hands down. It unabashedly declares, “Adventure! Excitement! Euphoria!”  A customer would be forgiven for thinking one would be spelunking inside an unexplored cave or skydiving during a storm. But no. It is a tour of Intramuros while perched on a Segway, that vehicle made popular by the movie Paul Blart Mall Cop, and a ride I associate (rightly or wrongly) with geriatrics and the morbidly obese.


(White Knight Segway Tour)

Hyperbole aside, it is a fun tour, especially for one who has never tried driving this vehicle before. The Segway is essentially a toy you can mobilize using the angle of your body or the pressure of your feet, and part of the fun is learning how to do this. A guide would give a 10-minute driving lesson to tourists, then the tourists would maneuver their Segway to form a single line behind the guide, and then proceed to explore the streets of Intramuros.


(Driving Lessons)


(Form a straight line!)

I enjoyed this peculiar tour. It is certainly more interesting to listen to oral tales of Intramuros while standing on a Segway than reading a lengthy history book while sitting on your butt. I did find the experience a bit pricey: P1100 for an hour-length tour (ghastly!) without the opportunity to race your fellow tourists or to bump-Segways. Still, for the novelty, I would recommend this experience to everyone.


(Somewhere in Intramuros)


(In front of Ristorante della Mitre)


(Quizzing the guide)


(Leaving the Gallery of Rogues, Knaves, Morons, and Idiots a.k.a. Philippine Presidents’ Gallery)


(Remnants of the old PMA barracks)

Note: The White Knight Segway Tour can be found inside the Plaza San Luis Complex, near the White Knight Hotel.


Adventure in the Metro: Watermelon Steak, and a Misbegotten Foray Into Vegetarianism

(Watermelon Steak)

For the carnivore, a visit to a vegetarian restaurant is an extreme adventure, with vegetarian dishes as forms of extreme cuisine. It was a definite type of extreme meal which led me to this adventure: sampling the watermelon steak as rapturously described by the Rappler. My curiosity piqued by the hyperbolic article, I duped a pack of ravenous meat-eaters into accompanying me to the restaurant that served this dish, though I feared that if the food sucked, they would rip me into pieces and have my remains for lunch.

(Pino and Pipino)

The aforementioned dining place is Pipino, a vegan restaurant located at #39 Malingap Street, Teachers Village. To the relief of my companions, Pipino temporarily shared the same space as Pino, its non-vegan sister restaurant. This led a lady in our group to declare: “We will order the meat dishes. You settle for the watermelon steak.” To which I replied: “But what is the point of our trip if we wouldn’t try the vegetarian dishes, especially the watermelon steak?” Our argument was settled when a Solomonic and, quite frankly, gluttonous member of the pack suggested that we order both the vegetarian and non-vegetarian food.

(Deep Fried Starter)

(Breaded Clams with Wasabi and Oyster Sauce)

(Chicken Inasal)

And worthy of wise Solomon the decision was! We enjoyed both sets of dishes, though admittedly we enjoyed the meals with the dead life forms more than the plant-based cuisine. Notable were the deep fried starter (sinful!), the breaded clams in wasabi and oyster sauce (highly recommended!), and the chicken inasal accompanied by rice with mango bits (looks and tastes classy).

(Portobello Mushroom Burger)

(Vegan Lasagna)

We were also delighted by what I dub as  tranny cuisine – dishes with stuff masquerading as another ingredient, much like a tranny masquerades as a person of another gender. We enjoyed the tranny burger (burger made of portabello mushroom) and the tranny lasagna (lasagna with tofu in lieu of cheese). Delicious, though for me my mother’s home-cooked tranny meals – puso ng saging burger and spinach lasgna – surpass these goodies.

The watermelon steak. Perhaps the waiter forgot our order, or the dish was so magnificent that it has to be the climax of a series of delectable meals. We reminded the waiter of the fabulous meat facsimile, and sat in nervous anticipation of what was to come. By what alchemy can the chef of Pino transmute a lowly slice of watermelon into  magnificent and succulent steak?

Unfortunately, it was not alchemy but delusion. Slathering a watermelon with barbecue sauce does not make it taste like steak; it makes it taste like a watermelon slathered in barbecue sauce. It would have been equally repulsive but more economical if we simply doused a slice of papaya with barbecue sauce and called it papaya steak.

We had a great time at Pino/Pipino. Great food, and with that abominable dish as an entertaining conversation fodder.

Aquanaut Voyage: Aquarium Diving at Manila Ocean Park

The things I endure to get my kicks.

I walked briskly inside the Manila Ocean Park Mall, eager to return to my hotel room. I tried remaining incognito by avoiding the gaze of guests thronging the entrance of the exhibits. I was embarrassed because I had no underwear inside my pants – the truant garment was soaking wet and had to spend time being stuffed into the left back pocket of my pants (the disagreeable alternative was for me to stroll the passageways holding my dripping briefs). Had my shirt not been lengthy, an observer might have seen a big wet spot on my backside, and then imagine that I had been the victim of an untimely bowel movement.

When I arrived at my room, I vowed that the next time I dive – if I dive again – I would bring a bag and extra underwear.

* * *

Manila Ocean Park’s Aquanaut Voyage. P995 for 10 minutes at the bottom of an aquarium is steep, but diving was a new experience for me, and (more importantly) someone else paid for it.

I arrived at the entrance around 3 pm (the Aquanaut Voyager occupies the same room as the Glass Bottom Ride and is open after lunchtime).  The person who took my Access Card said I had to spend a few minutes listening to a short briefing by the diving instructor – to prevent my unnecessary and untimely demise I presume.

The first part of the briefing was on underwater communication: the instructor and I would be unable to communicate vocally (obviously), so we needed to use hand signals.   He taught me how to gesture ‘I’m okay’ and ‘There is a problem.’ The instructor said that he would check on me regularly while we were underwater, and I had to respond by using the appropriate hand gesture. He also taught me the hand gestures that he would be making: ‘Are you okay?’ ‘Look around,’ and ‘Kneel.’

The second part of the briefing consisted of some do’s and don’ts. The instructor told me to walk on my heels so that I wouldn’t float upwards. He also advised me that before submerging, I had to pull the neck of my wetsuit outward to let the water inside  my suit (I forgot the reason for this, but it had something to do with compression). He warned me not to touch the fishes.

The diving instructor asked me if I had extra underwear. It dawned on me that since I was going underwater, I would get wet and would need extra briefs; apparently I did not think this endeavor through. He suggested that I just go back to my hotel room after the dive without my underwear.

He then pointed to the helmet that I would be wearing – a gigantic monstrosity weighing 30 kilograms with a tube attached to an oxygen-producing machine; the helmet would probably break my neck if it were not made buoyant by the waters. The instructor reassured me that in case of brownouts, the gizmo can still provide 10-minutes worth of oxygen, plus the generator of the Park would be kicking in.

Safety measures discussed and apprehensions addressed, I brought the wetsuit and the footwear given to me to the shower room, and changed clothing.

* * *

Underwater. I was fascinated that no water was coming inside the helmet, despite  the helmet not being sealed to the suit. Perhaps the pressure from the air inside the head gear kept the water out, though this pressure was probably also the reason why I felt slight pain in the ears (which I would continue to feel 30 minutes after the dive). Though I had sufficient air, I was afraid of hyperventilating underwater. I took slow and calming breaths. Ten minutes, I told myself, the dive is just 10 minutes.

It was hard walking underwater. I must have forgotten the rule to walk on my heels because I floated upwards thrice and the instructor had to catch my wrist and hold me down.  He walked backward so that he has me in his sights while he guided me around the aquarium. I saw a manta ray dart behind his back and thought he would bump into it, so I pointed towards his shoulder. He merely nodded and did not bother turning his head.

The instructor pointed toward one side of the aquarium; I noticed that it was the side of tunnel inside the Oceanarium, and people were gathering in front of the glass wall to look at the fishes… and me. Parents and kids were making thumbs-up sign (to which I responded in kind), and some of the ladies took pictures of  the fishes and me with their cellphone camera.

* * *

No hitches during the dive. I took a shower and went back to my hotel room where I chanced upon a hair dryer inside the bathroom drawer. Time to dry my underwear.