I was walking, exploring, Manila. Just walking. Like I like it. Covered in sweat and unable to breath. But still walking. Walking past a running empty car.

 

ARGH!

Wrong time.

Wrong place.

Wrong mood.

 

'Which car is this?', I ask towards a crowd of people buying lottery tickets. The driver comes. It is a real old one. The car, not the driver. One of those typical old army trucks, in a shabbily old painted look, chattering and rattling happily on the side of the road, with no need and use for anyone apart from being a chimney like smoking beast befouling the air around it with heavy toxic CO2.

 

Nobody repeats.

Wrong time.

Wrong place.

Wrong mood.

 

Too many perspiration drops have burned my eyes today. Too brutal have been the painful recognition of grey dusty sweat on my whole body and skin. This one unnecessary roaring car. Waning Patience. I felt it arising in my chest, my breast. One second … out of control. … I gave a fuck.

 

'Whose that car?'

 

… mindbubbling … Shit! Stupid language barrier. Seriously. Kind of it's getting a funny touch, looking at the scenario out of the eyes of those non-english speaking and understanding spectators. … end of mindbubbling …

 

The devils advocate was about to break free.

 

 

'Whose that car?'

No reaction.

'Whose that car?' more urgent, less patience.

 

 

A man walked occupied by his just bought lottery ticket. It's him. My invisible and imagined pointy finger was heavily waving in front of his face.

 

'Is this your car?'

'Yes.'

'You turning off?' Broken english, I thought will bring me here the furthest.

'Is good.'

 

'Why? Look.' imitating the smoke, the car, the air, the coughing, the relation between all.

'Is good.'

 

 

I was about to blast. Seriously. I turned around. Getting my control back. One more try … 'You know. No one using car. No need for petrol. You know petrol cost money. Now you no business. No money. But car on. Loosing money.'

 

 

Big eyes.

A moment of silence.

Understanding.

He turns the car off.

 

SERIOUSLY? SERIOUSLY? I just don't know what to think about that. 1) Being happy that the car was finally turned of? Well, I suppose, but I was there arising a funny awkward feeling watching this poor little fellow at the end by his try turning the car off. I suppose it really takes him quite a bit to get it running again. So was is seriously worse while taking action and therefore changing the corse? 2) Getting even more angry and annoyed about the fact, that this stupid idiot decided than to act, when he realised the economic lost of his action and seemingly not caring about the environment and what his dirty disturber is doing to it? 3) Starting of being concerned about the impression I might leave? Me? The only white female and lonesome traveller. Well like I mentioned before, that one is about to get labeled with 'We smirk and quirk a forget about it. Quickly.'

 

 

This Manila was unattractively full of unbreathable, unbearable CO2. Way too much, that I could cope with. But Manila and the Philippines had a lot of unexpected, quite challenging moments for me to offer. There was not so much exploration of the beauty and the original characteristics of the islands and there inhabitants.

 

My time on the Philippines can be described as the final realization of worldly pleasure, shallow and short lived satisfaction and a highway (nearly) to hell.

 

... and the one most pleasant thing I experienced on the volcanic islands: If you walk over black volcano sand, it takes much more effort and energy, than walking over a regular white sand beach. Funny, mhh? Nobody believes so. I did it once and than it was already time for me to leave Manila and their truly interesting bunch of people.