Manila, Mocholate, or Mawberry? - Explore Archived World Race Alumni Blogs

10,140 miles. 28 hours. 3 time zones.

We're finally here.

We spent the first three days in Gainesville, Georgia (Little Mexico), though it really just seemed like I was back in Los Angeles except instead of buying a 6 pound burrito at Chipotle, I was scarfing down Spanish rice and refried beans at a supermercado, trying to convince the butcher to slice the 15 pound watermelon we just bought with extremely pathetic textbook Spanish. I might have inadvertently sold my soul to the Mexican mafia in the process. However, I've found that "Si," "no," "por favor," and "gracias" can get most people a long way. . . most people . . .

We left Friday morning(ish) for LAX after Brittany's baptism and hung around during the seven hour layover. I made my sister drop off some In-N-Out before I parted our glorious fast food nation and once again cried my eyeballs out. We made a stopover in Hong Kong after a 14 hour flight and then transferred to Manila, where I am currently staying.

Unfortunately, I am more than physically aware of the passage of time as my mind struggles in what seems like an internal outbreak of World War III proportions to stay awake. Our host has lovingly and graciously offered us clean beds, hot showers, iced water, and delicious nourishment. We are so, so, so blessed, and I cannot believe that I am here. We'll be staying in Manila until Tuesday morning, and afterwards, the Sisterhood (that's us), and S.O.L.I.D will be traveling further to Malay Balay to work at our main ministry site for the month of September. We'll be working with KIM (Kids International Ministry) as volunteers, serving, teaching, and most of all loving abused, orphaned, and otherwise children who deserve to be loved. (That's uh. . . all children, by the way.) I can't wait.

In the meantime, we'll be resting, adjusting to jetlag, and finishing up blog posts. So as not to leech off of the resources of my host, this will be my only right to internet usage until (maybe) Tuesday. I don't know what things will look like once we get to Malay Balay.

Manila is beautiful. The heat rises in the air like fog in a glass vase. It doesn't suffocate, but when you breathe, you sense that you're breathing heat. My clothes progressively became more damp as my perspiring body threatened to cut loose and find a nearby watering hole. Though among the tropic, lush, humid vegetation, lives a sickly, dark reality. As we drove from the airport to KiM, we drove past huge commercial shopping malls that bordered junkyards with families living within them. As we drove past billboards of plastic surgery and hair removal, we also drove past kids running barefoot on the street, and families forced to live under highway underpasses or rusty old vans in empty parking lots. As I watched these scenes pass before my eyes — nothing but the windows of the bus between me & them, my heart ached. I was so used to seeing these atypical portraits only when I wanted to in dramatic documentaries or movies about a homeless protagonist's climb tot the top. But you couldn't ignore this. And the most tragic part of this story? It's only the beginning, and it very well might get worse from here.

ATL, Georgia