Asexual and apolitical. These are the guiding words for this post.
So I thought I’d write about memories of a travel. Some immediately came to mind but this one stood out:
I went there to take part in a conference on education. It was my second trip outside the
Upon arrival in
Armed with a printed info of the conference’s venue, I thought I should just go ahead and get a cab. Besides, it couldn’t be much worse than the cotton buds I had to stick inside my ears during the flight or the seat that wouldn’t recline.
Stepping out proved me wrong. I was immediately mobbed by several guys – with some clinging on to my backpack and a couple of others holding my hands – and pushed in a hundred different directions. They were taxi drivers competing for passengers.
So yeah, being the center of a horde of men’s attention is not always nice. (Strike one! So much for no gayness.)
I struggled out of their grip and ran back inside the comfort of the arrivals area. Catching my breath, I was approached by another guy who asked me politely what happened and offered help. The trauma of the past minutes made me agree.
The details are now unclear but finally, I was inside a cab with the helpful guy chatting away about my flight and other mundane stuffs. After almost an hour, I realized that I was literally being taken for a ride to up my fare. Since it was my first time in the country and inside a car with two men I barely knew, I decided it was more prudent to keep my mouth shut and just think that, anyway, I’ll get to where I should be before the end of the year.
At last I did get to the hotel. I was greeted by the hotel manager who asked me if I was Filipino and after I said yes, replied “putanginamo”. With all smiles I said back, “putanginamorin”. Nothing beats smashing cultural barriers than politely said cuss words.
The four-day conference was successful. Other than the fact that I had to eat chicken curry and vegetable curry three times a day for the whole duration of the event, I didn’t really have any major complaint.
Of course, the curry overload made the toilet my second most-favored place in the hotel. There I learned about pink coarse tissues. After several uses, it made me realize that pink a-holes are not always sexually stimulating. (Fine, strike two!) Good thing I grew up with tabo.
Don’t get me wrong. I did enjoy
By the way, cows freely roam the streets of
(Darn it, strike three. I’m OUT!)