Angeles Story
I went to Angeles in the winter of 2019, right before COVID hit. It was a very short 3-night, 4-day trip. On the second day, a friend I worked with, who was renting a two-story house with a green gate for about 15,000 pesos a month, invited me over. When I asked where I wanted to go, I said I didn't have any specific places in mind but wanted to see how Pinoys live. He took me near Nepomall and showed me the street vendor area (warning me about pickpockets and to keep my wallet and phone in my pockets). We ate chicken at an outdoor food court-like area where the staff performed a fire show. Afterwards, we drove around Angeles, and ended up in a dark, nameless place with wide roads but no people. I wondered why there were no people on such good roads and wanted to explore it.
“Aren’t you coming down, friend?”
“I’m too tired these days, so I’ll rest in the car. I’ll park here and just relax in the car, so you go ahead and explore on your own.”
“Okay!”
I got out alone and walked along the dark road, looking around.
Typical of Philippine streets, there were many alleys branching off. If the entrance was well-lit, I'd venture in a bit, but if it was dark, I'd pass by for safety. After walking for about 10 or 20 minutes, a Filipino on a bicycle approached me.
The following conversation is via Google Translate.
“Hey. What are you doing here alone?”
“Just exploring the neighborhood. Where is this?”
“It’s near a place like a community center. Why are you exploring alone?”
“It’s just my preference. What are you doing here?”
“I’m just here after work.”
“Work? What kind of work? How much is the salary?”
“I do odd jobs at the community center. The salary is about 2,000 pesos.”
“Don’t lie! How can the salary be 2,000 pesos?”
“It’s true.”
“Hmm… with 2,000 pesos, it’s hard to go to bars and stuff, right?”
“I’ve never been.”
“Then let’s go together this time. I’ll treat you.”
“Salamat! Hop on the back of my bike. Let’s go!”
I sat on the back of his bicycle, and it started speeding off excitedly.
“Yahoo!”
It felt like less than five minutes had passed since we started cycling when I heard a sound, not quite "stop" but a very Korean-sounding "stop stop" like a sunset, and turned my head to see my friend.
My friend, who was resting in the car, had seen me speeding off on a stranger's bicycle and had hastily stopped us.
“What are you doing on a stranger’s bike? Who is this person?”
“He’s a Filipino I just met. I’ll explain more over a drink.”
There was a bar nearby, so we went in. We ordered a bucket of beer and fried eggs with free flan as a side dish, and I explained the situation to my friend.
My friend looked very bewildered and told me that this city is a dangerous place and I shouldn’t act like that. I still had illusions and excitement about the country, and while my head agreed with my friend’s words, my instincts moved independently of my brain in those fleeting moments.
Anyway, my friend, I, and the Filipino I just met started an impromptu drinking session. While drinking, the Filipino suddenly brought up a topic.
The following conversation is interpreted by my friend.
“Hey Korean. Why are you here?”
“Just to have some fun and experience the culture, see how people live.”
“Really? Did you have fun with a pretty girl?”
“Not yet. I’ll do it tomorrow. I’m going to a day bar.”
“Hahaha. Then do you want to meet my sister?”
“Whoa!!! What? You want me to meet your sister?”
“Yes. She’s very beautiful. Plus, her body is like this (at this point, the Filipino used body language, drawing an 'S' with his hands to describe her figure). It’s amazing.”
“Show me a picture!”
“Here!”
“Wow! But it can’t be. A woman from a common Filipino family this beautiful? It’s a lie. Tell her to come here. I’ll believe it when I see her. And from now on, you’re my brother-in-law.”
“She’s sleeping at home right now. I can’t wake her up. She’s at home, so let’s go together.”
“Okay, let’s go now! Where is it!”
At this point, my friend told me not to go, saying that if I went, I would end up as a corpse with all my organs removed. However, the picture of the incredibly beautiful woman and the Filipino’s continuous gestures of her curvy figure, combined with my brain, which had become a zombie craving only sex, made me choose between the two.
After a long deliberation, I finally said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t go to your house.”
“Give me your sister’s contact number,” I said, and got her number.
The Filipino, perhaps thinking it was a failure, said he could bring his friends, even though he couldn't bring his sister. I asked directly:
“Your friends? Am I paying for them? Are you paying for your friends?”
“He said he’d pay for them, lol.”
“Right now, we only have this bucket of beer and fried eggs. Of course, it will change if your sister comes… You decide. Will your friends come and we’ll have a weak drinking session, or will your sister come and we’ll have a lavish feast?”
Two of the Filipino’s friends joined us shortly after, and by then, the remaining beer and fried eggs were almost gone. We coldly ate what was left and parted ways.
The next day, I debated whether or not to contact his sister, but ultimately decided not to. Reflecting on yesterday’s events, it didn’t feel like they had approached me with pure goodwill.
I still remember the night scene of that alley and the interior of the bar. But it’s a shame I don’t know the location.
