DAY 430: To the uninformed, the Philippines may seem like "just another southeast Asian country," with people that look like the people of other nearby countries. This is a complete falsity, of course. As my Let's Go guidebook perfectly puts it, "the Philippines has been permanently thrown out of sync with the rest of Southeast Asia." The Pacific archipelago nation has a history unlike any of the others around, as it was a former Spanish colony eventually sold to the United States. Catholicism is the dominant religion, not Buddhism, and traditionally, no one uses chopsticks. Let's Go continues:

Described as a hodgepodge of "Malay, Madrid, and Madison Avenue," Filipino culture fosters a range of ethnicities, languages, and lifestyles among which natives have found unity and an unparalleled love for life. Their willingness to drop everything for a basketball game or a cockfighting match reflects the national philosophy of bahala na, roughly translated as "whatever will be, will be." At the heart of the Filipino tradition is a strong sense of community; Filipinos can't bear doing things by themselves and, above all, value family, friendliness, and personal loyalty. This cheerful attitude, along with convenient transportation, numerous English speakers, and inexpensive locales, makes the Philippines a budget traveler's paradise.

I couldn't have said it better myself. Welcome to the Philippines.

MY TRIP BACK TO THE PHILIPPINES BEGAN in Bangkok's International Airport when I was on the check-in line. At the desk, two people ahead of me, there was a lone Filipino woman that was quite distraught. On the scale, I saw she had a lot of luggage, and I figured she was over the weight limit. I noticed the commotion and came to offer help. It was Christmas after all.

"Do you want some of my space?" I asked. "I only have this [bag]."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I know it's just 25 kilos."

"Oh thank you!" Her name was Ida and she was a Programme Manager for the United Nations in Bangkok on her way back to the Philippines for Christmas. No doubt her extra baggage was loaded with presents. She showed me her ID badge.

"My aunt works for the W.H.O. in Manila, and I have two friends at the U.N. in New York," I told her, saying out the letters for the acronyms.

I put my bag on the scale, reducing the steep additional fee she had to pay. Her new bill came down to 800 baht and she went off to the cashier on the other side of the terminal to pay it off. I completed the formalities of my own check-in.

"You shouldn't really do this," the Philippines Airlines employee told me. She informed me that I was taking the risk of attaching my name to baggage that I didn't pack myself. Who knew what were in her bags? If there was a problem, I'd be responsible.

Oh yeah, I forgot about that part, I thought. But it was already too late. The bags were tagged with barcodes and took off to Airport Conveyor Belt Land.

Ida was nowhere to be seen as I waited around to see if she'd actually come back. Shit, where did she go? I wandered around the terminal and eventually saw that she was legitimately paying off her extra baggage fee. "This is the first time I've paid. I didn't think I would have to. We Filipinos are so giving, and it's Christmas." I walked back with her back to the check-in area, but she was directed to go back through security again, which I didn't want to bother with because I was starving at the time.

"I haven't eaten," I told her. "I'm going to find some breakfast, but I'll see you on the plane." I gave her my seat number and got some Burger King on the mezzanine level.

BOARDING TIME CAME and I looked around for Ida on the way into the gate, and again, she wasn't anywhere to be found. I probably wouldn't have been a little paranoid if the Philippines Airlines woman didn't say anything. I just banked on my common sense; Ida seemed like a decent person.

The flight to Manila was interesting, although not as interesting as the flight I had taken with my parents in 1975 as a one-year-old, when, so my mom tells me, I spent most of the flight in the company of African-American entertainer Flip Wilson, who was on his way to see Muhammed Ali in the historical "Thrilla in Manila" fight. This time around, it was me who was the older guy, sitting next to a little Filipino boy who went through spurts of laughter and spurts of hiding under his seat crying for his mother. There were other children in the area too, also crying, but that wasn't the worst of it; that came when there was a burning smell coming from the front of the cabin.

Oh man, is this going to be pinned on me?

After the flight attendants investigated it, it was merely a piece of paper or something lodged in one of the heating coils of the oven that kept the in-flight meals warm. Later on, on my way to the lavatory, I finally found Ida, who greeted me hello, and calmed down.

Bahala na. Whatever will be, will be.

LANDING IN MANILA'S NINOY AQUINO INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT was easy; immigration formalities were a snap, and I got my bag fairly easily. Ida wasn't so lucky, with her four bags in different sections of the carousel belt. I volunteered to stay with her until she got them so that we could leave together in case they checked the bag tags, but she told me she was okay and told me to go ahead. I was a little incessant on staying with her, really to cover my own ass if there was any problem, but she politely tried to get rid of me. I think she thought I was some creep trying to pick her up, which wasn't the case at all. I eventually did as she wanted and left her alone.

For the first time on my trip in airports around the world, Manila's airport security actually asked to see my baggage code on the bag of my ticket to match with my baggage. It cleared of course, but I wondered if one of Ida's bags needed my sticker to be released. It was too late at that point anyway, and in less than a minute I was met by my Uncle Mike at the exit gate.

MORE THAN ANY OTHER CITY IN THE PHILIPPINES, Manila truly fits the description of "Malay, Madrid and Madison Avenue." The huge Filipino modern metropolis combines modern high-rises and Spanish architecture amidst traffic-congested streets and palm trees. My Uncle Mike and I chat in the car as the driver took us through the city traffic to the affluent neighborhood of Greenhills, where he and my Aunt Connie lived, the area of town with two prominent symbols of Christmas illuminating the nighttime sky: the Christmas tree and the shopping mall (picture above). Greenhills Shopping Center was bustling with people doing their last-minute Christmas shopping; it was there we went to one of many restaurants for dinner.

In the spirit of the Spanish and American influences of the Philippines, we went to Uno Mas, a Spanish restaurant that served us Spanish paella and an all-time favorite American delicacy I had not seen in other countries thus far: New England Clam Chowder. We sat and caught up on my travels and other things, and then went out for dessert and coffee. Outside, I really saw the American influence on the Philippines; there was actually a McDonald's with a drive-thru window.

It was pretty late when we got back to the house, so I just turned into the bed they had waiting for me and went to sleep as the rest of the house was already. The next morning, I found out that by some miscommunication, another group of my relatives had been sent to pick me up at the airport, and when they couldn't find me, they had my name paged over and over on the P.A. system. I thought perhaps Ida freaked out under suspicions of me, but then again, probabaly not. Bahala na.

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