First Impressions

An orchid-necklace welcome at the airport. Hot sun, hot air. Breathing deisel soup. Fried pork fat. A pillow that, like carbon turning to charcoal deep beneath the earth, becomes hard and solid over time. Unexpected up-to-date American TV shows. American fast-food chains. Impashioned religiosity and belief in God, delicate. Small ants that can carry very large things. Heavy, short rains. Colourful Jeepneys for 6 pesos (12 cents) to go anywhere in the city. Noisy air-conditioner. Missionaries. Green trees everywhere. Rivers of garbage with a little bit of water. Shack homes along the rivers. Lots of smiles. Lots of questions. Strange but charming cell phone texts, so many, unexpected. Sun shining through rising smoke. Prayer candle tears. Arms straight and verticle in the air, hands at 90 degrees, waving to the golden Santo Nino idle. A blue guitar. No toilet paper in any washrooms, and if you have some don't flush it down the toilet. Fancy cars and beater cars. Noisy shopping malls. Children staring, then giggling and pulling on their mothers' arms when I smile back. Powdered milk. Time stretching and contracting each minute of the day. Concurrent loneliness and overstimulation. Morning birds chirping outside my window.