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| New Public Market - Himamaylan |
The days here are like most days in the states. The sun silently rises in the morning, throughout
the day it follows an invisible path across the blue sky above, and settles
gently upon the distant horizon each evening. It has repeated that same task
for millennia. Just like in the US,
people arise, go to work, and shop for food at the local market. OK, your market in the states is a super
market whereas the market here is an open air affair and filled with individual
vendor standsstalls. Maybe the modes of
transportation here are a bit different, but in essence, everyone struggles to
make enough to feed, clothe, and shelter their families.
I don’t notice the flies as much here as I do in the States,
but the mosquitoes here appear to be more voracious and very sneaky. It is always the itch after the fact that proclaims
you have been bitten once again. Then
there is always the thought in the back of your mind, wondering if you have
been infected with Dengue Fever. Many of
the cases are mild to moderate, but then there are those few victims who end up
desperately clinging onto life. Most of
the fatalities seem to impact the young and the old. Thank goodness I am in
neither of those categories. In case you
were wondering, Dengue Fever is also prevalent in the southeastern part of the
United States. And there are a lot of
other crawling and flying insects over here which like to nibble and irritate
the masses.
Oh yes, that brings me to another item, little Red Ants.
They have venom that stings like a son-of-a-gun, and after one is bitten, the
skin develops little red welts. Then, after the pain subsides, the itching
begins. There is a nest out by where Yen
(my puppy) lives and every time I play with her, they manage to crawl onto my
bare feet and bite the dickens out of me.
Now, they are kind of like mosquitoes in that you don’t know they are
there until the pain has begun. When
Julius was killing chickens for Taw Taws birthday in August, blood from the
flopping and flying fowl got into my Crocs. When I got home that night, I left
the shoes outside the front door of my residence. The next morning I stepped outside to take
pictures of the party and without looking slid my bare feet into that black
rubber footwear. Within seconds I was
jumping up and down as scores of the little six legged creatures coated my feet
and started working their way up both legs. It was hard to swat and jump at the same time
and for a while I truly thought the ants were getting the “upper leg”. In the end, after I removed those shoes from
my rapidly swelling feet, along with vigorous brushing of my hairy appendages,
and copious
begins. There is a nest out by where Yen
(my puppy) lives and every time I play with her, they manage to crawl onto my
bare feet and bite the dickens out of me.
Now, they are kind of like mosquitoes in that you don’t know they are
there until the pain has begun. When
Julius was killing chickens for Taw Taws birthday in August, blood from the
flopping and flying fowl got into my Crocs. When I got home that night, I left
the shoes outside the front door of my residence. The next morning I stepped outside to take
pictures of the party and without looking slid my bare feet into that black
rubber footwear. Within seconds I was
jumping up and down as scores of the little six legged creatures coated my feet
and started working their way up both legs. It was hard to swat and jump at the same time
and for a while I truly thought the ants were getting the “upper leg”. In the end, after I removed those shoes from
my rapidly swelling feet, along with vigorous brushing of my hairy appendages,
and copious  |
| Red Ants slicing and dicing a hapless earthworm |
amounts of water, the attack ended; however, the pain did not. I went inside and coated my legs with isopropyl
alcohol. In reality I exchanged one form
of pain with another, but at least the alcohol helped to quell the agonizing
burning and disinfected the red welts as well.
For the rest of that day, my lower legs looked like they had a severe
case of spotted measles and as the hours passed the insatiable itching began.
All in all, no matter where you live on this planet, you
will always have to deal with some form of insect infestation and it seems that
no one is immune from their bothersome ways.
It seems that my honeymoon on the bicycle has finally come
to an end. I am now thrown within the
rest of the pedaling masses as the teaming traffic no longer slows down for me
when approaching from behind. There have
been vehicles that came so close to me I swore I could have leaned over and
kissed the side of the car, truck, or bus.
As for the traffic driving toward me; in the beginning they would wait
until I was safely past before they began passing a
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| A High Rolling Bicyclist passing thu Himamaylan City |
slower vehicle, but now
they seem to be indifferent in regard to my well being. Except for the pedestrians, I am now the
lowest and slowest of the vehicles plying the highways. It doesn’t matter whether you are wearing
biking attire or pedal a fancy bicycle, everyone else has their agenda and you
are just an insect of humanity slowing their progress. So, I pedal with a little more awareness of
my surroundings. Many residents will say
hello to me as I pass by and I do have conversations with those I meet when
taking rest breaks, but beyond those enjoyable encounters, I find the highway
vicious, brutal, and unforgiving to the lowly bicyclist.
Today was grocery day in Bacolod. The trip each way is
approximately forty-five miles and takes around ninety minutes to get
there. I had stopped on the way up to
allow a rain shower to pass. Since last year, they had been tearing up and
replacing concrete segments of the highway. Having completed the concrete sections,
they were now working on the asphalt portions. Regrettably, when they replaced
asphalt, you got the honor of driving on packed dirt for three or more weeks.
It was as if they expected the traffic to pack the earth for them. The dilemma for me was when it wasn’t
raining, you were choking on dust and when it was raining, you could just imagine
the gooey and greasy results. If in a
car, truck, or bus, it was tolerable, but if you were on a motorbike, the
conditions were far less than favorable.
On the way up this time, it was “wet and mucky” and on the way back it
was “dry and dusty”.
molasses intoxicate me,
until one day when I saw the slimy bronze goo slowly dripping from the hose in
back and determined that following one of them was not necessarily the best
thing for me.
Most straight trucks would locate their batteries on a shelf
attached to the frame behind the transports cab. This afternoon as I was returning home with
my purchases, I found myself behind a molasses tanker. The approaching traffic was spaced in such a
way that I could not get around the lengthy behemoth. 
However, at a major intersection, the blue metallic
beast slowed and was starting to turn right when I heard what sounded like a
shotgun blast; then I saw pieces of the truck’s battery as well as battery acid
fly across the highway. Just seconds
before, I was ready to open up the throttle to pass and there was a distinct
possibility I could have 
been injured by the flying debris and/or coated with
that caustic compound. Fortunately I was not and except for sitting thirty
minutes (further down the road) awaiting the afternoon downpour to pass, it was
another enjoyable ride.
However, at a major intersection, the blue metallic
beast slowed and was starting to turn right when I heard what sounded like a
shotgun blast; then I saw pieces of the truck’s battery as well as battery acid
fly across the highway. Just seconds
before, I was ready to open up the throttle to pass and there was a distinct
possibility I could have 
been injured by the flying debris and/or coated with
that caustic compound. Fortunately I was not and except for sitting thirty
minutes (further down the road) awaiting the afternoon downpour to pass, it was
another enjoyable ride.
For the most part, I always try to find something a little
different in each day. Good or bad, it
is the variety which pushes me onward and keeps my spirit alive. The
Philippines provides me that spark, that diversity which enflames my desire to
explore a paradise that so many either ignore or take for granted. I may not have been born or raised here, but there
are times when I feel I have spent my entire life here and in so many ways, I want
it to remain that way.
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