A Walk Through Typical Filipino Middle Class Suburbia
It takes me 8-12 minutes to walk from my house to the palengke (8 minutes in cross-trainers; 12 minutes in 2-inch pumps) and vice versa. I've been doing this ever since I started commuting to work, which was about 10 months ago.And in those daily 8-12 minute periods, I've seen a good number of mundane (yet somwhat interesting, therefore, blog-worthy) things.
My top 3 favorites are:
# 3 - a manhole chronically stolen of makeshift covering materials ranging from rusty galvanized iron sheets to splintered plywood boards. Whoever's been stealing the cover must think,
"Uy! Yero! (Plywood! / Gulong! / Sandbag!) Sayang ito! Maayos pa naman ito eh. Mai-uwi nga..."
Needless to say, when there's a flood, it is wise to stay away from that area. (unless you're up for quick dip in a cocktail of sewage, garbage, canine, feline and rodent crap.)
# 2 - a wall perpetually vandalized with spray paint scrawlings of either "MG" (Midnyt Gangztas)or "TSG*". The catch is, one gang paints on the wall,
then the other gang paints over the other gang's,
which is then painted over again by the first one,
which is then painted over by the second,
which is then... well, you get the idea.
(*my guess this means Tandang Sora Gangztas, but I could be wrong...)
In the end, it's just a mess of paint blobs. But it's amazing how these kinds of kids place so much importance on spray paint markings. (And I thought only dogs and wild animals mark their territories.)
Then just recently, the wall's owner had it resurfaced and painted over with a nice terra cotta color. In my opinion, he should have left it as it was. Now that it's smooth and clean again, it's asking for yet another spellbinding round of
"let's-paint-over-the-rival-gang's-stupid-grafitti".
Whoopee.
and my # 1 favorite roadside attraction is:
a cat carcass.
For a period of no less than 2 months, I witnessed a decaying mush of entrails, fur and flesh transform into a petrified specimen of roadkill, with the cat's face in a perpetual pose of his final moments of pain.
My apologies to those who have just eaten.
It became such an anticipated feature to my daily route that when the garbage folks finally scooped it away, I actually felt a twinge of disappointment.
I suppose my point is:
If I had chosen not to walk those 8-12 minutes, I may have missed out on these things. These things, though by itself are inconsequential, once combined with speculation and imagination become the beginnings of ideas, stories and ideas for stories.
And so, short of a flood, methinks I'll find myself taking that 8-12 minute walk every chance I get.
And now, on to finishing my half-eaten siopao...
<< Home