I put my old joke to the test.
Where are we, I ask.
'We are in Manila.'
Now where is Vanilla?
They don't know.
I say it's just over there.
It's over there.
I'm kinda repeating myself.
I'll mumble a word up to ten times.
This would get me admitted back home, but here I only get funny stares.
Like my software has briefly frozen, I begin talking normal again.
I'm doing mind experiments with the Philipinos.
It's really fun.
Ellen from the Seven-11 just stared at me. I was outside looking in. She was just about to start her shift. I was lip syncing, 'You are my friend.'
But all she was looking at was my perfect set of teeth. She managed to reply back, 'You're my friend.'
It's been an ongoing joke, trust me.
Things are getting weird. No denying it. No weirder than a whore trying to chat me up on the street and slipping her hand into my pocket looking for a wallet.
Janet is collecting bottles. She's getting a pile of them. I don't even throw her a coin. She got a note from me the other day.
Sophie is in her wheelchair. She's a stunted lady and sells single sticks of cigarettes and candy. I've been given permission to take photos and reach in my pocket and hand her a handful of coins.
Her teeth were once better than mine.
She lives in the wheelchair. I don't know where she goes to the toilet or showers. She's just outside the Philippine Bank and an umbrella placed on the side of her wheelchair protects her from the 35-degree temperature and the torrential rains in the typhoon season.
It was fucking hot.
A guy lying on a bench next to my local wakes up and wants to ask me something.
It usually means it's going to cost me something.
He's giving me dagger eyes.
There's been a walk today.
'Walk for Poverty,' says the T-shirts, as if they can speak.
And the four men wearing them are walking past my local and eating grilled meat on a stick.
'Would you mind helping this guy,' I say, 'he's poor.'
They do mind and keep on walking.
He's still giving me dagger eyes.
I have no idea what he wanted to tell me but I hand him a coin.
'Don't worry, please don't worry.'
Well if you don't want money then why the fuck did you want to ask me a question?
I was getting Medan Madness flashbacks. One inch and they'll take you for a ride for weeks.
It's rare people stop you on the street to have a chat without ill intentions.
You gotta get hard.
I hobbled around the block a few times. A group of boys are playing basketball on the street, with a hoop set up permanently on the side of the road.
'Take picture me, take picture me.'
There went my theory that they were out to rob me on every back street.
Bars, and more of them, promising nightly entertainment.
This is a playground for horny old corporate types who threw away their business suits for a chance to live out their fantasy.
The women here will oblige.
Illusions on a set of tits.
The streets of Manila are accommodating and catering and every second person seems to put out their hand and demand coins.
It can get to you if you let it. Other times, it's just bliss.
Janet tells me she got hit by a taxi a year ago. She can't walk well without crutches.
She poses for a photo as a I take a shot of her sorting out plastic bottles she collects from the bins outside the massage parlor next door to her turf on the pavement.
On another street, is a bin for recyclables. Anyone is welcome to empty it and cash in the plastic for coins.
Manila is trying.
The streets might not be paved with gold but boy do they work hard to get a few coins.
