Manila is a mad place. Like New York City, it’s loud and busy and everyone is bouncing around and working whatever angle is out there for them. It’s not a place anyone would find endearing but it is a place where a 6-year-old beggar boy called Boy Alex a “motherfucker” so it’s not without its charms. And the sunsets are pretty legit (thanks pollution).
There are certain sounds that dominate our soundscape. The calls of “Hello, Sir/Hello Ma’am” by every tout, restaurant purveyor and taxi driver, the relentless pounding of pop music, the dramatic reality of rain, and the constant clash of horns.
Come into our parlor and stay for a while. If you close your eyes and – wait don’t close your eyes this next one is a video.
The traffic in Manila is infamous. One could surmise that it’s their fault given that they regularly employ maneuvers like…driving on the wrong side of the street for extended periods of time, jeepneys barreling down the street honking their course and stopping for nothing but passengers. Red lights are optional for scooters, street signs are suggestions, and if you want to parallel park, you just get up on the sidewalk. So it’s bananas and as you might expect, noisy. It’s never actually quiet – no matter how thick the windows – but like any city dweller, we slept like babies rocked gently by the F train.
Allow your eyes to drift closed and enjoy damn near 5 MINUTES of where we called home for a minute…and some other (maybe hidden, secret) stuff.
(Music: Ladies Love Chest Rockwell by Lovage)
