Manila. Home to as many night clubs as there are churches in the Bible Belt. Exhaust fumes fill your sinuses until you feel like you’re going to pass out. I don’t think I’ve seen one traffic sign but somehow people get from point A to point B without being killed. The hustle and bustle starts at about 5am. How do I know? I sleep outside on a balcony with 10 other girls and a saltwater crocodile. Every morning the market below us sets up shop and we start to hear price negotiations, motorcycles whiz by, dogs barking and roosters crowing. It’s about that time that I have to make my way through the maze of bodies and backpacks down to the bathroom. Every morning. Maybe I should stop drinking water late at night.
The people here are shy at first; until you crack a smile and then their faces come alive. I’ve never smiled so much in my life. My face muscles hurt. But their joy is contagious and I can’t help it. The typical way of saying “hello” is by asking “what is your name?” “how old are you?” “do you have boyfriend” and “where do you live?” Surprisingly, the majority of the people here speak English which is very helpful since their native language, Tagalog, sounds like a putt putt car running out of gas.
Toddlers run around with no shoes or diapers. Most of the time in a t-shirt that’s at least two sizes too big. It gets so hot and humid here if you walk down the street long enough you’ll see them bathing outside.
I don’t want to be too eager, but I’m pretty confidant that I will adopt a Filipino baby one day. My husband will like it, or else. Maybe I’ll put it in the pre-nups just to be safe.
But seriously, the kids are my favorite part of being here so far. There are 200,000 street kids in Manila alone; and that’s just how many they can count. There is so much need here and sometimes I feel like I’m just a drop in the bucket. Don’t worry, I won’t let that stop me from giving all I’ve got this month.
