Our Whirlwind In A Tempest
Manila Trip - Day 2
(June 5, Friday)
168
The kids are exhausted. The air of this teeming capital city doesn't quite agree with them, and they are lethargic the next morning. We leave them watching TV at the penthouse of my mom's family's apartment complex in Sampaloc with an equally lethargic Yaya Rose, hoping the idiot box would keep occupied them until we return.
The four of us: Atch, Inday, Sam, Nat, and I head off to 168 in Divisoria, part of our itinerary to acquire as many material possessions as possible without spending a great deal of money. Ah, the wonder of mass-produced China goods!
The sky continues to weep intermittently, like an aging widow remembering her dead. I haven't been here in nearly a decade, and I do some double takes at some of the transformations. The snot-inducing smog hasn't changed much however, and we breathe it all in courtesy of crowded public transportation. I despair that my hair will never be the same again.
We scatter like chaff in the wind at 168, greedy eyes and hands reaching for items sold at half-price. Embroidered throw pillow covers, 3 for 100pesos. School shoes, 200pesos. We haggle and acquire in a frenzy. We only have half a day, after all.
Atch and I get into a fight at one of the shoe stalls, and I head off in a huff, pushing into the thick crowd of bargain hunters, picking up socks, underwear and school supplies for the kids, while employing my sharp glances and even sharper elbows into the competitive fray. I am a more productive haggler when I'm mad, it seems.
Hunger reunites us at the top floor's food court, our earlier argument forgotten, and we lunch on fast food - typical gastronomic fare for the perpetually in-a-rush. By the time we leave the mall, the sky has let out its pent-up torrent of grief, and we make a run in the downpour, squelching ourselves into a near-to-bursting jeepney. In this city, the transportation doesn't wait around for you. Its a chase-or-be-cast-off world.
(June 5, Friday)
168
The kids are exhausted. The air of this teeming capital city doesn't quite agree with them, and they are lethargic the next morning. We leave them watching TV at the penthouse of my mom's family's apartment complex in Sampaloc with an equally lethargic Yaya Rose, hoping the idiot box would keep occupied them until we return.
The four of us: Atch, Inday, Sam, Nat, and I head off to 168 in Divisoria, part of our itinerary to acquire as many material possessions as possible without spending a great deal of money. Ah, the wonder of mass-produced China goods!
The sky continues to weep intermittently, like an aging widow remembering her dead. I haven't been here in nearly a decade, and I do some double takes at some of the transformations. The snot-inducing smog hasn't changed much however, and we breathe it all in courtesy of crowded public transportation. I despair that my hair will never be the same again.
We scatter like chaff in the wind at 168, greedy eyes and hands reaching for items sold at half-price. Embroidered throw pillow covers, 3 for 100pesos. School shoes, 200pesos. We haggle and acquire in a frenzy. We only have half a day, after all.
Atch and I get into a fight at one of the shoe stalls, and I head off in a huff, pushing into the thick crowd of bargain hunters, picking up socks, underwear and school supplies for the kids, while employing my sharp glances and even sharper elbows into the competitive fray. I am a more productive haggler when I'm mad, it seems.
Hunger reunites us at the top floor's food court, our earlier argument forgotten, and we lunch on fast food - typical gastronomic fare for the perpetually in-a-rush. By the time we leave the mall, the sky has let out its pent-up torrent of grief, and we make a run in the downpour, squelching ourselves into a near-to-bursting jeepney. In this city, the transportation doesn't wait around for you. Its a chase-or-be-cast-off world.
