Overnight I had dreamt of the paradise we were heading for, but awoke dreading the voyage. To leave Manila, we’d need a taxi. We’d been warned by one and all about Manila taxis. We’d have to endure another traffic jam to catch an eleven o’clock charter flight.

For the first time in a week, Frank Lee’s colour was normal, that is, less ghastly than that of Prince Phillip. He and I had finally recovered. Celebrating this with some goodies retrieved from a nearby Starbucks, we began our packing frenzy.
Continue reading 10. Paradise Last →