I like exploring new parts of the city, especially via my stomach. It doesn't hurt that I have a bunch of unemployed friends who regularly hunt out the best Chinese food in Manila as a way to pass the time. Yesterday, they put all their hard hours of research work to good use by showing Stephen and I the best dumpling and noodle shops in the city, maybe even the country. The noodles, by the way, were handmade to order in front of my eyes. The chef pulled out the dough with a couple flicks of his wrist, doubled it over and did it again. Within 10 seconds he had created a bowlful of noodles that were dropped right in the hot soup to cook--not a knife, noodle press, or plastic pasta wrapper in sight. Apparently, according to Jimmy, his special skill was not learned here: the highest praise it seems one can bestow upon a chef in Chinatown is that he is "from the mainland."
Chinatown itself is in the midst of the same kind of building boom as the mainland, too. All the quaint old buildings are being torn down to make room for sturdy and economical, if not beautiful, cement structures. It's not the most interesting sight for the eyes, but the calesas are still here. Since it's so hard to park in these busy streets, I understand the need for additional transport, but why the horses survive amidst regular taxis and tricycles, I can't explain. Strangely enough, though, it's not for the tourists since there's pitiful few in this part of town. Stephen and I were unusual enough to garner more attention than normal in a city which is generally used to expatriates. Moreover, none of the guidebooks will help you here; had we not had Jimmy, Derek, Paul, and Hamid to guide us, we would have never found the hidden gems of Chinatown.
I like exploring new parts of the city, especially via my stomach. It doesn't hurt that I have a bunch of unemployed friends who regularly hunt out the best Chinese food in Manila as a way to pass the time. Yesterday, they put all their hard hours of research work to good use by showing Stephen and I the best dumpling and noodle shops in the city, maybe even the country. The noodles, by the way, were handmade to order in front of my eyes. The chef pulled out the dough with a couple flicks of his wrist, doubled it over and did it again. Within 10 seconds he had created a bowlful of noodles that were dropped right in the hot soup to cook--not a knife, noodle press, or plastic pasta wrapper in sight. Apparently, according to Jimmy, his special skill was not learned here: the highest praise it seems one can bestow upon a chef in Chinatown is that he is "from the mainland."
Chinatown itself is in the midst of the same kind of building boom as the mainland, too. All the quaint old buildings are being torn down to make room for sturdy and economical, if not beautiful, cement structures. It's not the most interesting sight for the eyes, but the calesas are still here. Since it's so hard to park in these busy streets, I understand the need for additional transport, but why the horses survive amidst regular taxis and tricycles, I can't explain. Strangely enough, though, it's not for the tourists since there's pitiful few in this part of town. Stephen and I were unusual enough to garner more attention than normal in a city which is generally used to expatriates. Moreover, none of the guidebooks will help you here; had we not had Jimmy, Derek, Paul, and Hamid to guide us, we would have never found the hidden gems of Chinatown.
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