Why pay for a steam room when you can be in Manila?

It's 90 degrees outside -- with 90 percent humidity. It's like breathing through a wet towel on your face. It amazes me that people date in this weather. But, hey, I'm not bitchin'.

This is my second trip to the Philippines. I was here last in May, on a fellowship through the Asia Foundation. I saw so many interesting stories that I decided to come back. Flying into Manila Airport, you can quickly sum up the Philippine economy by looking out the airplane window -- slum housing abuts the landing strip and beyond that the high-rises of the luxe Makati district. Every Filipino I talk too despairs about the economy. They say the poor are getting poorer and never before has the disparity gap been wider.

One by-product of the comatose economy: You get excellent, attentive service. Because labor is so cheap here -- minimum wage is the equivalent of $4.93 A DAY , and many don't even get that -- restaurants and hotels teem with staff. I'm staying at a nice Western hotel. When I leave my room in the morning, I'm greeted by a stream of "Good morning maam." Which makes me feel really old. But which also means I have to be nice and cheerful back. And I'm used to snarling until about noon.

This morning, I had to run out for an early appointment, so I took a banana from the plate in my hotel room. I was looking forward to eating the fragrant mango in the evening. When I came back, the mango was gone, replaced by two bananas next to this note:

"We have noticed your fondness for a particular fruit, and accordingly have taken the liberty of personalizing your fruit basket."

Can there be such a thing as too much good service?