Back! At long last

Manila, the longest I've stayed in a country. 3 freakin' months! Of course, I stayed as an expat with all the thrills and frills, so no complaints there.

The Philippines, to me, was a contradiction of deep religious conviction and the despair of poverty. The red light district, a stone's throw away from my fancy little world where rich little missies push their dogs in prams - both dressed to the nines, is named P. Burgos Street. The P stands for Padre which translates to Priest. On that street where there is no shortage of girls to satisfy a man's lust, is a church. (I never managed to find out if this Padre belonged to that church.) Anyway, opposite that church, is a big garbage bin. At that garbage bin, lives a family of 5.

To me, in that 5km radius, the vicious reality of life has never been so apparent. If you are lucky enough to be born in the privileged part of the city, you get to sit at Starbucks, cigarette in hand, after a relaxing day of shopping at AX and Salvatore Ferragamo. If you're not so lucky, you have to make a living for yourself and unfortunately, some women have no choice but to sell their bodies. Otherwise, they end up making a garbage bin their home.

It's a sobering thought to think how differently my life could have turned out, if I wasn't born into the family I have now.