Chris is being forceful.
'If you get drugged by a whore, they'll steal your stuff and you'll be living down here at Manilla Bay.'
Their choice of drugs is Ativan.
Chris lives with his wife and six-year-old daughter down at the Manilla Bay walkway where he does massages and his wife sells drinks. The daughter lives in the cart attached to the bicycle. The cart is covered by a flimsy canopy and doesn't keep the rain out.
Mosquitos are a constant problem, says Chris.
He's seen so many foreigners who have been ripped off.
'They have nowhere to go,' he says, 'so the walkway is the end of the line for most of them.'
He says with no passport or money, 'how can you go home? You can't.'
A man of African descent, maybe an American is berating one of the glue sniffers.
'He had all his cash and his passport stolen.'
It's not just empty threats. They are real. And Chris says I should be very careful.
'Just leave your valuables in your room,' he says as he finishes up my neck and shoulder massage.
He's not happy with the current president.
'Inflation is up and no one can afford to live in a house.'
My morning walk through downtown was a stark reminder of that. Families slept on carboards. Families bathed on the street. Families die on them too.
'And if you get drugged by a whore and have your possession stolen, you could end up on the streets of Manila too,' he says.
He's not drumming the point home.
'I'm only talking from experience.'
He says the rains will come next month.
'I'll take a shower outside with my daughter. It's a good time of the year to be on the walkway.'
But not a good time to stay dry.
'That's another challenge of sleeping outside.'
He's optimistic about it. His wife is moving individual cigarettes and coffee.
He's had one customer today.
'Things could be a lot worse,' he says. He smiles. But it's a tired smile.
'I was up all night waiting for a customer, no one.'
I was his first today. He's in better spirits. The competition is strict. There seems to be an enterprising massage set-up every ten metres along the one-kilometre walkway.
It's only a good reputation and someone who is prepared to go the long distance, meaning another free ten minutes of massage, that get the repeats. I've dumped Edward, he was lazy and his technique slack and he nearly twisted my bad knee back to 'limpville'.
'Many of them not trained,' says Chris who took a massage course.
He lives in hope of getting off the streets. His daughter goes back to Kindergarten in June.
'We can only live in hope,' he says. I noticed he wasn't holding his breath either.
His wife Rosie pulls out a photo of one of their foreign customers with a little note on the back saying, 'I'll miss the sunsets, massages, laughs, and your friendship.'
It was touching.
These are good folks.
But poverty is biting too hard for them to live in a secure environment that every family deserves.
The streets are tough and Manila doesn't hide that fact.
