I Will Die In Manila

Ana became slowly agitated when we were negotiating this narrow street somewhere in Pasay City, supposedly leading to the bus station for Baguio. It was so narrow, and makeshift stalls were put by vendors lining the streets. Our car wheels were literally by the street gutter.

A traffic aide led us there which made Ana ask out loud when we were either about to do a hit-and-run of the kids running about/pedestrians walking in different directions or, we were about to crush the toes of the old man having his early morning coffee he apparently enjoys having by the pavement of a chaotic street: 'Akala yata nung traffic aide, Mama, naka-pedicab tayo.....at ano ba ang mga taong ito, hindi ba nila nakikita itong kotse? Invisible eto? Hindi man lang tumabi...ano ba?!

Nearing our destination, she quipped, '...parang hindi na ako makahinga....'. The streets of Manila does that to you.

It was my turn to hyperventilate when on our way back to province via EDSA, a boy in red tshirt and a cap casually propped one leg by the side of a jeepney to gain advantage over a passenger. He then pulled the passenger's hair back so he can manuever his hand through the window and snatch her cellphone.

I could not believe what I saw. It happened so fast. These two incidents validated my belief that, yes, I will die in Manila.