Shopping on steroids

"You're not in Kansas anymore," I told the young man who stepped off the courtesy hotel shuttle and immediately globbed onto me (his first mistake) as if I would serve as his guide through the monster mall we stood facing.

As it happened, he actually was from Kansas. 

We were headed into the Mall of Asia, a tourist attraction of Manila that defies, truly, an simple description other than that it's HUGE. Posters on Trip Advisor compare it to Tivoli Gardens or The Smithsonian of consumerism. Mall from Hell works better for me. It claims to be the fourth biggest mall in the world. 

From IMAX to ice-skating, ferris wheel to fireworks, just don't go there looking for anything you really need and be prepared to walk for hours unless, like I did, you contemplate renting one of these:

I quickly lost my young friend in the crowd and started dropping bread crumbs to make sure I would find my way home again. It didn't take long for my hyperventilating to begin. Luckily, I found a safe harbour:

Manila is paradise...if you are a shopper and certainly one with serious stamina (and cash!) 

But never mind Gap et al, you can even buy a new body here too. Manila is a mecca for plastic surgery. A convention of plastic surgeons just happen to be meeting in my hotel if I was so inclined.

No surprise to those who know me, I didn't even last an hour at the Super Mall. 

Same aging body (never spotted any nip/tuck kiosks but I'm sure they are there, somewhere) but at least I bought a book. I would have hated to leave empty-handed.