[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]
My uncle told me to come out with him in the morning. Next to his
farm is a rice farm. He pointed out the workers. It was 7AM but they
had already been out for two hours hunched over. They plant,
sidestep, and plant again until the sun goes down. They’re paid 250
pesos a day – – five dollars.
About the cars passing each other. That was at night. It was safe at night. In the day, we
seem to be passing another vehicle at least every minute. It seems to
work because oncoming vehicles will yield somewhat if they see you
passing. That’s not to say it doesn’t scare the hell out of me. Hood
to hood, we’ve been five feet from buses and trucks.
Our trip to Baguio takes five hours, but it’s barely 100 miles. This is mostly because of
tricycles that aren’t supposed to be on the road. It makes me wonder
who’d be more scared: me and Dan driving here or them driving on I-5. My uncle
says, “Just wait till we go to Manila.”
Just had beef steak. Six of us ate lunch for 20 bucks. Not a bad
deal. Movie idea: the American brothers try to get fresh with the
local girls at Shoemart. But one of them tells their boyfriend. He
speaks English without an accent and says something along the lines of
“You think you’re so great because you’re from America. Well you’re
not welcome here!” And he’s a vampire. Who’s also from America but
is ashamed of his identity. Title: Vladikbayan: The Impaler.
[I’m not gonna lie, I thought this was hilarious when I was writing it three weeks ago.]
Inspired by the first babaeh sighting of the trip. Probably my age.
Dan says they’re American. You be the judge. Here’s a picture where she’s about 50×50 pixels and probably taking a picture of me:
The trip to Baguio is straight about 90 percent of the way. Then
there’s the last half hour. Uphill. Blind curves. People passing on blind curves. Over and over.
You’ll earn a Gran Turismo S-license driving on this.
I just saw a Temple of Doom bridge going across this canyon. Note to self: look up Tour of Luzon. MA and Pa both remember this in their younger days. It’s like the tour de France. Pa says the hardest stretch consisted of the roads up the boondocks to Baguio. Then he told me how the word boondocks came from the Philippines and how John Wayne stole it.
Uncle Rene is third in command for the department of agricultural reserves.
Something like that. He’s sort of a Robin Hood. They acquire land
from the rich and distribute it among the poor. That’s as far as my
understanding stretches.
Just watched the end of Die Hard 3. Entertaining. On a scale of 0-10 in realism, 10 being me sitting on the computer and 0 being Yoshi’s Island, Die Hard 3 is like a 0.5.
Me and Dan just slept from 5PM to 2AM. I had a dream where I had to
hide two cell phones and keep one on me. Or else I’d be murdered. I
forget why or who was chasing me. I ran towards the docks to hide.
There was a tennis court I had to pass through so I juked and jived to
trick the pursuers into thinking I was playing tennis. It worked.
Dummies. I hid one phone in a locker, one in a vending machine, and
kept one in my pocket. Then I tried to take a nap under the dock, but
I realized I didn’t know the combination to the locker. That’s when I
woke up.
Last night I had a dream where I won 5 million on a slot machine, but
it just gave me a receipt. Then I was supposed to cash the receipt in
the next day at the same machine, but they moved it.
Nobody believed me when I explained the story. Big surprise.
I took some pictures on the balcony. Dan joined me outside. Ten
minutes later, my dad came out too. My mom woke up and asked if we
wanted breakfast but she was out of it because my dad let her know
that it was only 2:30 in the morning. All three Cortez boys basking in
the ambiance–a cacophony of honking horns and busted mufflers. At that point I realize
both of them were born here. Dan jokes about saving up for ten years
and retiring here. My dad says he himself couldn’t do it at this
point. He can’t kid himself – – America is nice. Then Pa tells us about the square in front of us.
This building was one story, that building burned down in 79, this bridge wasn’t even
here. When I was 15, 16, we’d stand out in front of that building,
watching girls pass by. Up that street and to the left,
we’d smoke and play pool. Down there I had my first job. I’d write
down the names of all the jeepney drivers. It was my responsibility
to keep track of the queue–see who gets the next passengers. There
used to be a fire station down there. It’s all different now. There’s
a lot more people but not a lot of progress.