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* Or is it at the Peninsula Manila?

The day’s schedule had been arranged with the sort of obsessive attention to detail more suited to the invasion of Poland. If option A was not feasible one moved to option B, and if that failed there was option C. Though we much prefer not planning at all, the circumstances called for overplanning, which we took to an Olympic level.

Then it rained.

It poured.

It howled.

Systems failed. Chaos reigned.

There was no power. We couldn’t make coffee. Classes suspended—cancel talk to kids. Floods everywhere—photo shoots cancelled. People couldn’t go out—meetings kaput. The simplest task—getting into a van—proved to be beyond our capabilities. The thud as the top of our skull made contact with the doorway registered on the Richter scale.

But there was one thing that worked. We had a reservation at the Manila Peninsula. Watching our rigorous plan fall apart, we figured that if we were going to be marooned, there was no place like the Pen.

By sheer dumb luck we were in the Peninsula while the storm shredded the metropolis, the island of Luzon, and our nerves.

Having checked on the safety of our feline masters we resolved to accept the fact that the weather is beyond our control and relax. There is no more pleasant, more comfortable place to do that than here.

All things considered, our life is fabulous.

If the Peninsula were a human being we would marry it.