Saved by the Roman Catholic church

On my taxi ride from the Manila Airport to my hotel I thought it strange that the taxi driver gave me a full prostitute price break down. I was travelling alone and he had enquired as to my marital status; although I don't think that would have prevented him from his well rehearsed speech. Of course as we drew closer to the hotel he offered to take me to Burgos St (a red light district) close-by apparently.

The next evening (Sunday night) I decided to go out. My objective was to find a bar with other fellow potatoes (see term #2 on Urban Dictionary) that I could sap for local information and advice. I was drawn to a lively street with bright neon lights and 'bar noise' - this was obviously the place to be. As I entered the busy one way street, two young children of about 6 years old attached themselves to each arm and held up their free arm to me, palm up in a begging motion.

I am well versed in child beggar language and it is best to not entertain them and just proceed. Certainly not an easy ethical decision for many, but I strongly believe that giving money to these children is perpetuating the problem. If one feels torn, a good response is to buy them food and watch them eat it (commonly children will return the food to the shop for cash).

I noticed a stunning filipino girl approaching and considered whether she could be a prostitute… it didn't take long to find out. She opened me flirtatiously but politely with "hello sir, where are you going?". I responded by saying "I'm going to a bar" - its all I had. She had stopped me in my tracks and it was obvious at this point she was a "working girl".

My gut sank in the same way it does when a charity collector stops you in the mall or on the street. Out of pure politeness you listen to their speech on whaling, starving children or abused women, waiting for the opportunity to interrupt them and say you are not interested. All the while wishing you had brushed them off initially and kept walking. Her next question was "would you like some company sir?", to which I responded awkwardly "uh no, no thank you". At the same time I still had two kids pulling on either arm asking me for money. She proceeded to counter my objection with "how about a blow job sir?" while she glared hungrily at my package. In shock and disbelief I said "No!" with a pre-pubescent quiver in my voice.

At this stage I was feeling very uncomfortable. A hooker was distracting me, and two children were occupying my arms - I had become an open target. Across the street was a bar with two older white men sitting outside at separate tables staring at passing girls like lions stalking their prey. This was my escape… only slightly better than my present situation. I brushed past the hooker with children attached like monkeys. I untangled the kiddies quite forcefully saying Opo! Opo! Opo! which I had learnt from Lonelyplanet as "No" in Tagalos (the local language in Manila). A few days later I was to find out that I had yes and no mixed up… Opo actually means yes and is used when speaking respectfully to an elder. No wonder they put up such a struggle, talk about mixed messages!

Finally I reached the bar. I felt sick. Absolutely sick to my stomach. This was the first time in many years that I had experienced real culture shock. My first night in the Philippines and my heart was racing - in a bad way. The children disgusted me, the prostitutes disgusted me, and the old men sitting next to me disgusted me. I had one beer. Alone. To passers by I must have looked no better than those crusty old men on the girlie prowl. I decided to leave this place, I looked up and noticed the street sign "Burgos Street"… this is the place the taxi driver described, and it all made sense. There were no backpackers, or young people - only children begging, men selling viagra and fake watches, prostitutes of questionable gender and of course the filthy old men that feed this twisted ecosystem.

I left the bar and walked down the street in search of another bar. Again I was accosted by a gaggle of girls pulling at my arms. "Mr, Mr, where are you going?"; "Sir, massage sir?"; "I give you special egyptian blowjob sir". I dived into the closest taxi and told him to take me to a nearby mall I had heard about called Greenbelt. Usually interesting experiences like this excite me and I take all in my stride, but I felt frustrated, disgusted and dirty instead. Manila had disappointed me. I got out of the taxi and walked into the mall. Hymns were chiming in my ears as I walked into the mall area. There was a Catholic Mass in progress.

HALLELUJAH !!!

Never in my life have I been so happy to be in church. In this mall I found normal bars and restaurants, although Sunday night was a quiet night, I managed to relax and enjoy the remainder of my evening with no temptation from sin or sodom.