Where's Scott?

(edit 3/10: Henage update)

Another day of visa bureaucracy, but after some serious logistical nightmares and fair amount of legwork, we get Mabel the fabled “manager’s check” and head down to the boardwalk. Manila is a city by the sea, and enjoys warm, calm evenings making it an ideal city for ocean-front dining. We wander the water’s edge dodging between tables and street performers on the beautifully lit waterfront, all the while listening to local Filipino bands playing fantastic renditions of American classics (did I mention how Seb and I hate their uncanny ability to sound like Star Search finalists?). I read a bit about a local dive called the “Hobbit House,” a Lord of the Rings theme bar tended by little people. Since Seb has a “fear and loathing” thing going with little people (long story involving a mean little person), I convince him it’s time to give them another chance.

The Hobbit House is much older than I expect, and we learn it’s been around since the 70’s (and not inspired by the recent Tolkien revival). True to the rumor, the waiters are little people though and I watch Seb for signs of anxiety, but he plays it cool. The live band quickly draws our attention. The singer has an amazing voice (and we’re on the Filipino scale now, so we’re talking real talent!), and with only about 30 seats in the house, it’s a very personal concert. Mabel knows all the songs and sings along happily… Seb and I notice little quips such as “from my third album” and “I first debuted this song here in the Hobbit House in ’78” and start to wonder if there’s something we’re missing. All the songs a Filipino (so we naturally don’t know them) and we ask Mabel if the singer’s the author: “No, no, not write the songs!”. Ah, OK, our mistake… (“All the those who can’t understand the words to my next song have their girlfriend explain them to you” – OK, the implication that all the foreigners are men; oops, it’s true! Where are all the foreign women?) “I won my first award for this next number…” “Mabel!” we shout together, “are you sure she didn’t write all these songs?” “Yes, yes. No write the songs.”. *sigh* This is a tricky point when talking with Mabel, “yes” means I heard you, “yes,” and sometimes “I don’t know.” “No” means I didn’t hear you, “no,” and of course sometimes “know” but without the usually linguistic context. We clarify, “did she write songs!” “Not write songs!” OK, time for the internet, I hand Mabel the Blackberry: “type in the name of the song” *tick tick tack* (she types the name in Tagalog) >Search< “Asin, Philippine’s most beloved artist…” I wander outside to check the artist: “ASIN”. “Mabel, she wrote all these songs you love!” “No, not write the songs” “Who wrote the songs?” “I don’t know…”. A bit more research and we figure out that we’re getting a fantastic, front row almost private concert with the Philippine’s “Paul McCartney” – but of course Mabel’s too young to know her, she only knows the words to almost every one of her songs! Fantastic! What a treat! By now, though, Seb has had a call from Henage, an old friend of his from London who’s in town, so we’re off! Of course, we have to get the “white man’s discount” by an overcharge of 80%, so Seb is vindicated in his distrust of the smaller folk, and after a bit of corrective haggling, we make a swift exit.

Look up “character” in the dictionary, and there a full color glossy of Henage. By the time we get to his hotel it’s after 2(am), and Henage has been pickled since, oh, about 1984. Henage is only here on business, surrounding himself by old fly boys from “the colonies”. “H, is that you?” they call as they pass through… Henage spent years in the Philippines running the some of the “more interesting” bars, knows enough to have written much of the Rough Guide to the country (which he has!), but he’s since fallen in love with Thailand (or at least one Thai) and appears to hate leaving it. Henage buys us a few rounds and we hear some tall tales of the old days in Manila. The hotel itself appears to be a relic from just after the war, and I feel as if I’ve been transported back decades and surrounded by some of the first Westerners to brave the jungle. Mabel has arrived in dread fear of him after Seb told her he hates Filipinos (though not true), and she quietly hides at the corner of the bar. A few young local women storm through the bar and call back some colorful remarks from the door. “They appear to have wanted too much money” Henage explains to everyone in earshot. Henage pulls no punches, but you soon realize that he has a warm sense of humor, and below a very gruff exterior is a really likable guy… after a few minutes even Mabel warms up to him. You’ll always know where you stand with Henage, but I’d hate to be on his bad side!