intramuros
At the risk of being labeled a hypocrite, I will confess this:
The City of Manila depresses the hell out of me.
At its very best, it's a colorful and historic place. At it's worst though, it's a human stink hole where the desolate and the half-dead live.
Everyday as I go to work, I have to walk through its streets where the unwashed bodies of men and women sleeping on the streets permeate the air. It smells of sweat and urine. The children are just as filthy, and they play in the middle of the streets where excrement, both human and animal, are redolent. But if you sniff really carefully (something which is not for the faint of heart), you'd smell the salty and musky odor of the nearby polluted river. Its reek covers the city like a shroud. On extremely breezy days, you can even smell the not so far-off bay which is not exactly crystalline pure either.
Manila used to excite me --- I saw it as a city of extremes. The ornate churches with their stone-paved plazas exudes an air thick with history. The walls of Intramuros itself breathes of eras gone by. Lavish buildings house some government offices and some old establishments. One can see that it used to be a city of rich people--- rich with culture, spirituality and vitality.
At the same time though, the most impoverished families could be found sleeping along the streets of Intramuros. These are people who have grown used to the filth that surounds them. I kid you not when I say the streets are full of human waste. I would save everyone the upset stomach by not describing how I managed to ascertain it came from people and not dogs. Every blessed day, I have to keep my eyes peeled on the pavement so that I will not accidentally step on a "time bomb." And in each blessed day, it never fails that I have to avoid a good number of places.
This is when I've realized I can't stand it anymore. I just couldn't stomach the smell -- especially during summer when the hot sun bakes the city, doubling its disgusting aroma. But most of all, I hate seeing poop everywhere. It has become my habit to look down while walking, even if I'm inside malls. I'm starting to see the world as full of shit.
And not just literally.
I hate what I have become, I'd be the first to tell you. For someone who's doing development work, the last thing I should be is ticklish of filth and dirt. But what I used to think was exotic has become too overwhelming now. Back then, when I didn't have to be in God's most accursed places every day --- I was okay with it. Back when I was safe in the knowledge that poverty is a far reality for me, I thought I was being so adventurous and noble. But now that life's a struggle, and my family's day-by-day existence is challenged with strife, the hell-hole which is Manila has become a threat. Too real, and I'm too much ingrained in the pattern of its stone pavements, the swish of its suffocating air, the amassed desolate people everywhere, which now includes me.
I am a self-centered, affected fool. I know.
I know I need a diferent way of seeing things. I would probably find it because it will define my sanity. My parents brought up no fool. I'd get over this "temporary kaartehan." I'm sure it's just my illness that's making me so contrary. But while recovering, I still don't know how to endure the next few days until I see a slant of light which will change how I view things.
I am 90% sure I will puke the next time I see filthy Intramuros again. Tomorrow, I will puke, and I will not be able to stop myself. Maybe, I'll even weep.
Angry. Disgusted. Terrified.
The City of Manila depresses the hell out of me.
At its very best, it's a colorful and historic place. At it's worst though, it's a human stink hole where the desolate and the half-dead live.
Everyday as I go to work, I have to walk through its streets where the unwashed bodies of men and women sleeping on the streets permeate the air. It smells of sweat and urine. The children are just as filthy, and they play in the middle of the streets where excrement, both human and animal, are redolent. But if you sniff really carefully (something which is not for the faint of heart), you'd smell the salty and musky odor of the nearby polluted river. Its reek covers the city like a shroud. On extremely breezy days, you can even smell the not so far-off bay which is not exactly crystalline pure either.
Manila used to excite me --- I saw it as a city of extremes. The ornate churches with their stone-paved plazas exudes an air thick with history. The walls of Intramuros itself breathes of eras gone by. Lavish buildings house some government offices and some old establishments. One can see that it used to be a city of rich people--- rich with culture, spirituality and vitality.
At the same time though, the most impoverished families could be found sleeping along the streets of Intramuros. These are people who have grown used to the filth that surounds them. I kid you not when I say the streets are full of human waste. I would save everyone the upset stomach by not describing how I managed to ascertain it came from people and not dogs. Every blessed day, I have to keep my eyes peeled on the pavement so that I will not accidentally step on a "time bomb." And in each blessed day, it never fails that I have to avoid a good number of places.
This is when I've realized I can't stand it anymore. I just couldn't stomach the smell -- especially during summer when the hot sun bakes the city, doubling its disgusting aroma. But most of all, I hate seeing poop everywhere. It has become my habit to look down while walking, even if I'm inside malls. I'm starting to see the world as full of shit.
And not just literally.
I hate what I have become, I'd be the first to tell you. For someone who's doing development work, the last thing I should be is ticklish of filth and dirt. But what I used to think was exotic has become too overwhelming now. Back then, when I didn't have to be in God's most accursed places every day --- I was okay with it. Back when I was safe in the knowledge that poverty is a far reality for me, I thought I was being so adventurous and noble. But now that life's a struggle, and my family's day-by-day existence is challenged with strife, the hell-hole which is Manila has become a threat. Too real, and I'm too much ingrained in the pattern of its stone pavements, the swish of its suffocating air, the amassed desolate people everywhere, which now includes me.
I am a self-centered, affected fool. I know.
I know I need a diferent way of seeing things. I would probably find it because it will define my sanity. My parents brought up no fool. I'd get over this "temporary kaartehan." I'm sure it's just my illness that's making me so contrary. But while recovering, I still don't know how to endure the next few days until I see a slant of light which will change how I view things.
I am 90% sure I will puke the next time I see filthy Intramuros again. Tomorrow, I will puke, and I will not be able to stop myself. Maybe, I'll even weep.
Angry. Disgusted. Terrified.
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