Trifter

I have a job which earns me a wage that is considered to be below the poverty line in my country and as a result I have never considered myself to be wealthy. Therefore my trip to the Philippines came as a complete culture shock to me.

Starting Point

I had a small inheritance left to me by my grandparents and used a chunk of this to fund a trip to the Philippines. I had many friends out there who insisted that I come and stay with them. For me this was great since it meant that my small chunk of money would stretch even further and as a result I would be traveling across a large area of the country.

From the moment I arrived I was amazed by the differences between my country and theirs. I spent about a week in Manila and that was quite enough for me. Manila just felt slightly grubby, crowded and noisy. I stayed with the family of a friend there. My friend was really proud to have a house in Manila, and even more proud to have her own room which she gave up for me to sleep in. The room was about 6 feet by 4 feet; a narrow ledge down one side was covered by a thin mattress and served as a bed. No offense to my friend but I was glad to leave to travel elsewhere.

The Nice Parts

From Manila I took a coach to Luzon area where I stayed with another friend. For me this was paradise. The small town had a Wild West feel to it, just a few roughly built houses with a small store prominently displaying a coca cola sign. We caught a jeepney from the town for the few miles ride to my friend’s house. The road was lined with paddy fields, the odd caribou tethered by the side.

From Luzon I traveled to the islands Bohol, Boracay and Cebu. Bohol was great, I traveled by coach across most of it, unlike a coach in my own country, this was full of passengers, with the overflow being on the roof, along with their baggage and livestock. The roads were terrible, all dirt tracks with massive potholes which the coach lurched along. According to a friend a contractor had been offered the chance to improve the roads which at the time were solid. They had ripped all the roads up then disappeared with the rest of the money. Such stories seemed all too common.

Boracay was the area most people would consider paradise, we fly to a small airport nearby and traveled to the island by outrigger since that was the only way on and off. Boracay is a narrow island with a long golden beach all the way round and amazingly clear blue waters. However since I am not one for sunbathing, there was little more to do and I swiftly became bored. I was glad to move on to Cebu.

A Poor End

Cebu was the only place that I had no friends to meet up with. Once the ferry docked I disembarked and threaded my way through all the containers stacked on the dock. I then headed into the town. Compared to Manila it was far nicer looking place, a bit like I imagine a 50’s American town to be like. Almost immediately I was surrounded by a group of children dressed in dirty rags clamoring for some money. I handed out a little which was a mistake since more children appeared as if by magic, but this was getting near the end of my trip and I could spare no more.

I stayed in a pension in the town, while it was very cheap, it was extremely basic, I had a small room to myself with a 5ft wooden bed with only a blanket. Not much good when you are 6ft plus. The mosquito netting on the window was ripped and the night was filled with the irritating whines of the tiny blood suckers. Being a church run place it had many curious notices around like the one in the toilet which said “Please flush, Jesus might be next”. Flushing consisted of pouring a bucket of water down the hole in the floor.

After a few weeks backpacking I decided that I needed to find somewhere to wash my clothes. It was raining quite heavily as I set out. On my way through the town I passed a huge impressive looking church. Directly opposite sleeping on a step to avoid the water running down the road was another child dressed in nothing more than a torn, dirty string vest several sizes too big for him.

I found a small shop that would wash and iron my clothes for next to nothing. When I returned next day they were waiting for me all neatly wrapped in brown paper. As I left the shop a man approached me smelling strongly of drink, he held out a tattered photo of a girl looking no more than 8 years old. He said it was his daughter and asked if I wished to pay to have sex with her. Repulsed I asked how old she was; he replied that he didn’t know, with a shrug that implied I was silly to ask. Fighting an impulse to hit him, I walked swiftly on with a sick lump in my stomach. I wondered what could bring a man so low as to do that to his daughter.

After a couple of days in Cebu it was time to leave and travel back to Manila. As I made my way to the ferry I was stopped by an old man dressed in rags. He asked me for some money and I replied quite true fully that I had no money to give him. As I walked away I reflected how we were both the same with no money. Then I stopped and really thought about it. Yes I had no money on me, but I had a backpack full of belongings, I had a plane ticket to take me home and when I got back home the next day was pay day. For the man I had just talked to there would be no pay day.