Used Slippers and Sweet Coffee: Adapting To Philippines Culture
On Hygiene, Eating Habits, and What They Teach Me About Navigating Between Worlds
📍Manila, Philippines
Here are some things I’ve learnt about Filipino culture:
Messenger is the WhatsApp of the Philippines. Everyone here uses it, and the familiar notification sound echoes from every phone like a digital orchestra playing in the streets. It’s almost like the honking on the roads—just another sound that has become part of Manila’s unavoidable background noise.
People here honk all the time. For no obvious reason, as if it’s just an essential part of the Filipino driving experience. I briefly considered renting a scooter and exploring, and I wondered—after just one day, would I start honking too, unconsciously adopting the local habit?
Speaking of confusion, after months of driving on the left side in Australia, I suddenly found myself wondering if my brain had fully rewired. Would it now be difficult for me to return to driving on the right? My mind was already trying to figure out which side of the sidewalk was the correct one.
In both apartments I rented in Manila, I found pairs of flip-flops waiting for me. At first, I didn’t understand—did someone forget them here, or were they meant for me? They definitely didn’t look new. In the second apartment, the landlord wore them around the house, and when she left, she casually slipped them off and told me in a melodic Filipino accent: “You can use this.” Along with them, she left a used bath sponge in the shower.
A slight wave of nausea hit me. How could I use secondhand flip-flops or someone else’s bath sponge? Doesn’t that completely defeat the purpose of hygiene?
Later, I learned that this is actually a common Filipino practice. House slippers or indoor shoes are an essential part of hospitality—Filipinos don’t see them as an issue of hygiene but rather a gesture of welcoming guests. In a culture where shoes must be left outside to keep the house clean, offering indoor slippers is almost a status symbol—a sign of generosity and care for visitors. It’s a tradition that reflects the heart of Filipino culture—where hospitality and respect outweigh personal comfort.
Another thing that surprised me? You don’t flush toilet paper in the Philippines. The plumbing here simply isn’t built for it. It made me wonder—what’s it like to live this way your whole life? Do Filipinos continue this habit when they travel abroad? And what happens when tourists who don’t know the local rules arrive here?
Maybe that also explains why toilet paper is almost nonexistent in public restrooms—even in the pristine, spotless bathrooms of the mall near my apartment. There was a single toilet paper dispenser at the entrance, which was already empty when I got there. At 10:30 in the morning, the streets were still quiet, and most shops hadn’t even opened yet. Instead of toilet paper, Filipinos use what they call a "tabo"—a small hand-held bidet or a bowl of water for cleaning, which they consider far more hygienic than paper.
Thankfully, there was a convenience store nearby, so I just bought my own roll and quickly realized I should always carry one in my bag. Another small lesson in cultural adaptation.
Before I arrived here, people told me everything in the Philippines is sweet. I wondered how that could be such a universal thing in an entire culture—and now I see: it wasn’t an exaggeration. It’s a fact.
From coffee that comes pre-sweetened in every café (unless you specifically request otherwise) to the bread in the supermarket that looks like whole wheat but is actually chocolate bread—as common here as regular bread. I bought cheese rolls expecting a savory, familiar taste, only to realize that even cheese here is sweet.
The preference for sweetness extends to everything. Filipino-style tomato sauce for pasta is sweeter than ketchup! Even peanut butter—something that should be salty—is sweet here, and probably not by accident, considering it’s stocked right next to the chocolate spreads.
This is the magic of global travel—a window into different ways of life, cultures, and perspectives. The Filipino love for sweetness likely stems from the country’s history as a major sugar exporter—when something is so widely available and cheap, it naturally finds its way into almost every dish.
At the end of the day, this is exactly what I came to learn—how people live in other places and the stories behind customs that seem strange to me at first.
Being a nomad gives me the freedom to choose what I adopt from each culture—maybe not the used flip-flops, but the warm hospitality and the sweet coffee? Absolutely!
Because in the end, the real journey isn’t just between countries—it’s between different ways of thinking.
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