First chapter of my latest addition to the series "Americano in the Philippines". Not edited yet. For feedback purposes only.

Americano in the Philippines

Teaser

           A wise man once said that a thief comes while the master of the house is sleeping. He may have been describing this very day. The thief has definitely come and he does so under the cover of a barely waning dawn. To use the singular when describing him doesn’t fit well. Today he comes in flaming hoards. His shrill scream wakes all those within ear shot, planting panic in hearts once filled with peace.

            My palms grip the railing of our front porch as Chinese J-31’s and J-16’s skim overhead. They pass in wave after wave, maybe three hundred in all. Stinging sulphur burns my nostrils as it fills the air. The pilots wear helmets with dark shielded glass and oxygen masks. I know they won’t drop their bombs here. The knowledge fails to ease my palpable terror. They’re headed inland to soften targets before the invasion surge hits the beach.

            “Get inside Robert, now!” Angelyn screams from under the bed with our little son in the back of the house.

             The implications are surreal. Everything moves too fast. My mind simply refuses to assimilate. I must act to protect mine! I’m stunned into stillness like a deer in headlights. How can this be? Oh my God, it’ll be over in less than an hour. We’re utterly defenseless. They’ll think I’m an American and kill me for sure.

            Finally, I will my leaden legs into action. I grab Angelyn and Angelo from under the bed and pull them to the door. “We must get up the mountain, to your fathers shack. That’s our only hope. Move, now. Follow me, quickly.” I scoop Angelo up and lead the way.

            It takes five minutes to climb the path. Just for a moment, we turn in horrified shock. I take in the birds eye view and it sears the scale of this criminal act deep into my frontal cortex. Desperate policemen and a few other brave souls with shotguns and small arms make their suicidal stand. They’re mowed down like grass in a flash. Large infantry vehicles and throngs of rushing invaders pass over them in complete deference. A line of destroyers and other patrollers, half a mile out to sea, lob shells that land all around us. Deafening explosions knock us to the ground. I reach for Angelyn and Angelo and shield them with the only thing I have, my body.

            What will happen to us? What will happen to me? A strange calm comes over me as I resign myself to the fact that my last breath may be taken on Chinese soil. I just pray they let my family live and I definitely won’t go without a fight. I will die in defense of those I love most. So be it.

 

Three months before…

 

            Angelyn lies next to me in bed. Her soft breathing comes in a light snore. She’s so adorable when she sleeps. I love to watch her chest as it rises and falls beneath the sheets, the angelic look of peace upon her face. I get many opportunities to see her like this. I never sleep well. It’s a leftover from my childhood, when I never knew what might happen from day to day, or from night to night. A war zone with two opposing sides, my mother and my father, filled my developing personality with persistent dread. In the early days, battles broke out on a regular basis. It did calm down, but wariness and a one eye open sleep technique, learned in those formative years, stayed with me. Bad dreams and cold sweats continue to this day. When it happens, there’s nothing to do but get up and do something, anything, until the fear subsides.

            On this night, like on so many other nights, I throw my legs over the side of the bed and head for the computer. I check in on Angelo on the way. He’s sound in sleep and crumpled up at one end of the bed. I turn him over and lay his head on the pillow. He stirs slightly, rubs his eyes with both palms, and turns on his side. He sighs with contentment.  I adore this little guy, especially in moments like this. There’s something about checking on a sleeping child. Every parent knows the pleasure well. My fear and feelings of impending doom give way to a deep sense of love and appreciation. All is well and it relaxes my nerves.

            As I enter the living room, a rooster crows in our back yard. That rooster is seriously retarded. I smile at the thought. It’s three in the morning and the sun won’t rise for two more hours, but he crows all the same, hour after hour. I’ve thought of silencing him with one quick turn of the neck, but I refrain. I’m not a monster. I threaten thus with Angelyn and love the rise I get out of her every time I do. She knows I’m only joking, but she feigns horror. It always brings laughter. Come to think of it, we’re always laughing about one thing or another. Laughter is our thing. Whenever she gets frustrated or angry, I look at her in a certain way, and she can’t resist. A smile moves from her lips to her eyes and the giggles take over. I pull her close and it’s all good.

            I wander to the living room. White lace curtains undulate in a slight breeze. The streetlight just outside our front door illuminates them in a ghostly pall. My desk sits in the corner by the kitchen. My computer is always powered up. I lift the screen and it glows white. I blink at the light and adjust. A clicking sound resonates as the internal fan starts up. I click on my web browser and peruse the news topics listed on the page. I follow world events like an obsessed sports fan. I take pride in knowing all, to the best of my ability. Bad news, good news, and ominous news all have the same effect. They calm me in some strange way. I don’t know why.

            I navigate to CNN. I scan the headlines and one catches my attention right away. It’s a story about an American Aircraft flying over the South China Sea. The Chinese have been making claims to this area, calling it part of their territorial waters. It hits home. Living in the Philippines, on the shores of this disputed body of water, makes it somewhat personal. The Chinese have been enlarging islands, using dredges to make dry land and they have even built an airstrip. The American flyover is intended to send a signal and the Chinese don’t take it lightly. They warn over the intercom, informing the Americans that they are invading Chinese airspace. This happens on a weekly basis now, so the news of it has become mundane.

            It would be insane for two of the world’s superpowers to go to war over some stupid little islands. China owns a third of America’s debt and Americans buy seventy percent of the products made in China. So there have been harsh words and diplomatic condemnations, but that’s where it always ends. It’s been happening for years. I’ve seen videos on Youtube that warn of Chinese intentions to invade, but I dismiss them as inconsequential in the bigger picture. President Obama came to the Philippines last year and reinforced his solidarity and dedication to the defense of the sovereignty of this archipelago nation. It was another message for the Chinese and for the world. He even implemented a new military strategy that pivots military strength and attention to this area of the globe.

            I scan the article, but dismiss it out of hand. There are more pressing issues in the news. Donald Trump is about to take over the Whitehouse and Syria lies in tatters, with a refugee crisis that rivals any in history. The stock market has taken a huge dip of late. It seems the whole world is nervous, as if impending danger lies just over the horizon. The leaders preach prosperity and tout improving statistics with every speech, but more and more, it falls on deaf ears. One only has to do a cursory search on Youtube to see how many people expect civilization to implode any day now. They call it fear porn. I have to be honest and admit that I believe too much of it. From about the year two thousand, I’ve kept my head up, feeling that my “redemption draweth nigh”.

            The first light of dawn creeps across the floor. When it hits my feet, Angelo will wake and the day will start. Angelyn won’t be far behind. Sleep will have to wait. I stand up and hit the fridge. An early breakfast will be my offering, my show of love. I grab some eggs and bacon and the milk. I whisk the eggs in a glass bowl. I pour them into a heated frying pan, already crackling with grease from the bacon. The smell reminds me of home. Canada will always be my home, even though I feel so at ease here. Sometimes I miss it, but I miss my four children more and my mother too. If you read my last book, you will know of the sad events that led to my estrangement from my children. I won’t dwell on it. I try not to think about it too much.

            Little flip flops scuff on the tiled floor in the hall. Angelo sighs with a big yawn and grabs around my leg. “Daddy, I’m hungry.” I lift him to my hip and grab his nose. “I got your nose.” I pull my hand away and close it in a fist. Angelo lets out a little laugh and opens my hand to retrieve his nostrils. He never tires of the games we play. At four, he’s the same age as my son Jesse was, when I had to leave for good. A tinge of sadness tempers any joy I take from my step son. Such is my lot, I accept it.

             A second set of flip flops fill me with a familiar happiness. Angleyn grabs me around the waist. She’s dressed in a short little t-shirt nighty. God, how I love when she wears it. A mental flash of my hands slipping it above her hips causes a rousing in my drawers. I stop it there. Now is not the time. I sneak a peek though, as she washes her hands at the sink, bending over just a bit. I’m only human and my wife is gorgeous. At four foot eleven and ninety five pounds with jet black hair and the sweetest smile, I still melt every time I see her. We’ve been married five months now, but the novelty of her beauty hasn’t diminished in the least.

            “Will we go to my family today?” She knows the answer. It’s more of a reminder than a question.

            “Yes, I have plans. I’m going to take care of the rats. I bought some cage and wire and the wood needed to build a trap.” I imagine the appreciation that will come my way when I rid the family home of the constant scurrying in the rafters, once and for all.

            “Are you sure that’s a good idea? They keep away the snakes.” Angelyn says it with a smile. I know she approves. She likes my resourcefulness and the fact that I always have a project on the go.

            We all sit at the table as I serve breakfast. We eat in silence, nothing needs to be said. I don’t need a thank you. My pleasure is thanks enough. Angelo bites on the bacon and scoops the eggs with his hand. His mother does the same. I use a knife and fork. There are many cultural differences to be learned here, but eating with my hands is one I choose to forego. We finish up and clean up and head for the bed rooms. Clothing is never an issue here, shorts, a t shirt and some flip flops always do the job. Not much thought goes into it. It’s the same with so many things here. Life is simple, easy, and taken one day at a time. I’ve settled into it quite well, with the exception of the retarded rooster. Ha.

            I grab a little wagon from the backyard and load it with the materials I’ve purchased. Angelyn and Angelo step out the front door and I meet them there. It’s only seven in the morning, but it’s already hot. I run back inside and grab the umbrella. We try to avoid the sun here. It’s a stark contrast form America where the sun is worshiped and tanned skin is a sign of health and vitality. In the Philippines, pale skin is idolized and desired by all. I guess you could say everything is upside down here, or opposite to the Western world. Western values have no place here, at least not this far out in the sticks.

            We meander down the narrow road leading out of town. Caibiran is starting to wake up. The fish market comes to life with shouts and constant chatter. It’s only a block from our house. The fishermen barter with the vendors hoping for the best price for their fresh catch. Sometimes, when I wake early enough, I go out with one of Angelyn’s brothers. We set nets and then three of us get into the water to herd the fish with shouts and claps of our hands. I love it and the brothers always laugh at my uncoordinated efforts, but I know they appreciate the fact that I try. It’s a sign of mutual respect.

            As we walk, a sea view with palm trees swaying in the light breeze offers a visual elixir. How could anyone feel anything but calm in a place like this? On our right, rice fields flank the lower slopes of Mount Biliran. Tiny women with cone shaped bamboo hats bend and pick with bare hands. Further along, a man walks his cow in the middle of the road. Traffic is not much of a problem here. Even if it was, it would just have to wait. Everything waits here, slowed by a lack of the modern urgency so prevalent these days. Life runs on a different schedule here, with the tides and the seasons. Death anniversaries, birthdays and fiesta are the increments.

            It takes about twenty minutes of easy strolling to reach the family home. Angelo stops to kick a cow pie or catch a frog crossing the road. We stop at a Sari Sari store and Angleyn chats in Wari Wari with the owner. When we do get to the house, so much smoke billows from the windows that it appears to be on fire. The house is a humble affair, built with cinder blocks and a sheet metal roof. It’s about thirty by thirty square. It houses at least ten people. Of course, there’s Nanai and Tatai, but there’s also the children.

            Some of the sisters work in Manila and it’s natural that the kids stay behind. This is a part of life in the Philippines which can be harsh and unforgiving. Reality is always nipping at the heels of those who live here. The hierarchy of needs is pretty short. Food comes first, then shelter, and with a little bit of fortune, a cell phone or maybe even an old television. Jason, pronounced Jasone, was abandoned by his mother when she married a rich man in Manila. He has a birth defect that mars his face and mom lacked the compassion to deal with it. It’s taken me a while to understand, but I’m getting used to it.

            We enter the house/chimney and my eyes burn right away. Nanai crouches over an open fire on the dirt floor in the kitchen. There’s a large pot filled with the only thing it’s ever filled with, rice. The kids run around getting ready for school and Tatai is up the mountain working in his corn field. He spends most days up there. I’ve offered to help, but he refuses. It would be embarrassing to accept help from an Americano. It would be the talk of the town. So it’s not an option. Angelo runs down the path to the basketball court where a group of children play hop-scotch. Angelyn sits in the kitchen talking with her mother in Warai Warai. Their conversation is always easy. Conflict is non-existent, especially with Nanai. Her sweet disposition colors everything she does and says.

            I set about my task, my gift to the family. I feel pleasure at the thought of the hero’s welcome I’ll receive in a couple of days when the extermination is finished. I take great care to build the trap well with a door on hinges that falls at the slightest movement. When I finish, I set it on the top of the cinder block wall, above the living room, and put a bit of cheese whiz inside. Then I sit, with great satisfaction and wait for my prey. One of the brothers steps in the front door.

            “Maganda Umaga.” His name is Duodong and he’s my favorite. He knows quite a bit of English and he’s especially kind. He always goes out of his way to make me feel welcome and he even served us dinner in his nipa hut with his wife and little boy. This was a great honor for me, an offering of great significance. I was officially a part of his family from that day forward.

            “Maganda Umaga.” I answer him and he laughs. He’s teaching me Wari Wari and I’m taking to it well.

            “What are you looking at?” He follows my eyes to the trap and a perplexed look comes over his face.

            “You better not let Tatai see that!” He says it with a smile, but I can see he’s serious.

            “Why?” I’m a bit taken aback. I can’t imagine the answer.

            “Just make sure it’s gone before he gets home at the end of the day. Trust me.”

            Just as he finishes his sentence the trap springs and a rat rattles the cage until it falls ten feet to the living room floor. I stand up and raise my arms in triumph. I dance around the living room and Angelyn comes to see what all the commotion is about. She looks at the cage and then at me in my victory celebration.

            “What will you do with him now?” There’s a bit of sarcasm in her voice. She knows I can’t hurt a fly. I even have to walk away when they slaughter the chickens out back of the house. Blood makes me dizzy, so much for my great hunter gatherer dance.

            “Well, to be honest, I haven’t really thought about that. I guess I’ll take him up in the field and let him go.” It seems logical to me.

            “If you do that, it’ll be back in the house within a day. They’re like cats. They can find their way home from miles away.” This isn’t good news to my ears. I don’t want to kill it. I just want to relocate it.

            The reality of the situation dawns on me and I accept what I must do. I take the cage out back to the sea wall. The tide is high at this time of the morning and rough cement steps lead to the water. I slip in with the cage and the rat. I take a deep breath and submerge the trap. I turn my head as the rat fights at the top of the cage for air. Within a minute, there’s only silence. I lift the cage and observe the waterlogged limp form. I take no pleasure in the sight, but it had to be done. Such is life.

            I dump the contents of the cage on the fire pile between the house and the sea. Garbage collection is non-existent here. Trash is either burned or thrown in the Sea. I remember when there was a storm a while back. All the trash washed up on the beach. After the storm had passed, it amazed me to see women all along the shore throwing trash back into the sea. There’s no recycling movement here, no environmental activism. The sea is a garbage can. To put it plainly, no one thinks it should be any different.

            I take the trap and set it back on top of the wall and wait for my next victim. In all, I catch six rats. No one says a word, but they all watch inquisitively with a faint hint of discomfort. Nanai, silent as ever, turns her head and tries to ignore my activities. By afternoon, I’m proud of myself. Mission accomplished. I sit back on the couch and drift into a well- earned snooze. The wicker and bamboo press into my flesh, causing me to turn repetitively in slight discomfort. I sleep lightly, half hearing the constant gibberish going on around me. Various family members come and go in easy fashion.

            When Tatia returns home, the gibberish takes on an angry tone. I turn over with concerned curiosity. Tatai paces like a soldier, raising his arms and denoting great displeasure with abrupt movements of his hands. Angelyn appears to be trying to calm him down, but it has the opposite effect. Tatai pulls a chair over to the corner and climbs up the wall. He grabs the trap, my trap, and throws it to the floor. It smashes into an unrecognizable form and then he turns his angry gestures and racing gibberish to me. I don’t have a clue what he’s saying, or yelling, but I know for sure it’s nothing good.

            Angleyn jumps between me and her father, but not before he shakes his fist an inch away from my nose. “Americano, Americano.” The snarl on his face frightens me. He stands at five feet tall and weighs about ten pounds more than Angelyn, but when he gets fired up he grows in stature and becomes quite formidable. I’ve seen this anger, directed at various people in the village, but never at me. Angelyn starts to cry and then my blood begins to boil. I stand up and grab Tatai by the arm. “Stop!” It’s the first time I’ve ever raised my voice in his house. He recoils in shock and snatches his arm from my grip. He’s not used to being confronted. No one dares, especially in his house. Angelyn is the only one who stands up to him and when she does, it’s a hell of a cock fight. I have come to understand well why the village people call Tatai the little monster, but if he is the little monster then Angelyn is the littler monster. She has the sweetness of her mother, but the temper of her father.

            I gather up the mess of wire and wood and push my way out the back door. I throw it on the garbage pile and pace up the side of the house to the cement path leading to the road. Fury rages deep inside and I blow. Before I know it, my fist is through a bamboo fence by the side of the road. The owner of the house watches in horror and complete silence. I can see that I have scared him and I feel slightly guilty. I turn and run down the road toward home. I pass many on the way and they all say hello in the only way they know how, “Americano.” I just keep running. Then I turn toward the sea and into a field of tall grass. I stop and bend over, gasping for air. I growl like a rabid dog and then raise my hands and shout at the sky. “Fuck!” I’m really pissed.

            I take some deep breaths and begin to calm down as I pace back and forth. Suddenly, a flicker of silver and gold catches my eye about four feet away. I stare for a moment unable to make out the anomaly. Then the flicker takes form and starts swaying back and forth in a hypnotic display. Fangs and a winged hood register on my senses. A very large cobra, weaves through the grass closing in on my leg. I freeze still like a fence post. My vision becomes acute as my heart leaps against the wall of my chest. It’s fight or flight and flight has become a non-option. I watch as the cobra inches toward my bare foot. Flip flops don’t offer much protection. I control my breathing and hold my ground, hoping he will simply pass me by.

            No such luck, in a blinding flash the cobra attaches itself to my lower thigh. The pain precedes the bite like sound precedes light during a thunder storm. It hits my brain and then everything slows down. Without realizing what I’m doing, my hand snatches for the cobra. Fear turns into a venomous rage, a seething anger and a deep sense of him or me. I get him by his cold neck and lift him right up to my face. He thrashes and strikes again and again, nicking my thumb, but he can’t outdo my grip. I grab him with my other hand and twist with dormant strength and murderous intent. His neck snaps and he goes limp. It’s over, but it’s just beginning.

            I turn and break into a sprint, aiming for Angelyn and the family home. The fear has returned in full force. I know what a cobra bight means, but I’m not thinking straight, I just want to see Angelyn. I make the distance to the house in short order and broach the front door in a frothing panic. Nanai is the first one to see me. She lets out a blood curdling scream that echoes all through the village. Tatia rushes to her side and his eyes go wide with fear. Angelyn runs down the path but stops dead in her tracks about ten feet away from me. I start to calm down and realize that I’m still holding the dead cobra. I drop it to the ground and bend over. My leg is already swelling. Angelyn goes into action and grabs my arm pulling me into the house and onto the couch.

            Everything starts to spin. The entire family and half the village gather around me. The gibberish is unbearable. Panicked syllables and fearful faces bear in on me. I need room, I can’t breathe. I stand up and push my way through the crowd. A strong will to live wells up inside and the overwhelming urge to move sets in. I grab the snake off the pavement and pace toward the main road. Angelyn screams after me in Wari Wari, but I barely hear. I limp all the way back to our house, waiting for death with resignation. My mind races through options that would only be available in the first world. Here in the Philippines, no medical relief will be had. Anger starts to boil through my veins. I will not die today, no fucking way.   

            I set the cobra on our front table and lay down on the tiled floor. I close my eyes and feel tired. Every muscle and bone cries out for sleep. I drift and let myself go with the swirling sensation. I take one last look at the tail of the cobra dangling off the table. Then I sink into the floor and everything goes black.

            When I open my eyes, I’m lying on our bed. Angelyn wipes my face with a cold washcloth. Tears flow down her face and I can hear gibberish out in the kitchen. I reach for her hand and she falls to my chest. “Oh thank God, Oh thank God.” She weeps and gasps in my arms.

            “I’m here baby, I’m here.” My mouth is dry and the words come out slurred. “I need water. Please get me some water.”

            She lets go and in a flash she’s back. She holds the glass to my lips as I sip it. A cool sensation floods my chest. It feels so good that I lean forward and drain the glass in one large gulp. “More.” It’s all I can manage to get out. Three glasses later, I collapse and close my eyes. “I-I need to sleep.” The gibberish in the kitchen and the light from the window dim into silence and blackness.

            The next time I open my eyes, it’s dark. Angelyn lies next to me with her arm over my chest. I strain to lift my body off the bed feeling weakness in every limb. I sit on the side of the bed for a few moments and then drag myself to the bathroom. My body burns, sweat drips, but I shiver. I turn on the tap and sit on the floor under the shower head. The cool water bathes me in comfort. Angelyn comes into the bathroom and sits on the toilet. Her silence is strange to me, but I let it go and bathe for another half hour. I get to my feet, and sway like a palm tree, finding my balance in spurts. I shut off the water and Angelyn hands me a towel. I dry myself off and feel hungry.

            Angelyn steadies me as I head for the kitchen. I stop at the entrance. The dead cobra is still hanging off the table. I lurch over and pick it up. I win you fucker. Relief settles in my heart. It was him or me and I’m still standing. I limp to the front porch holding my prize. There is a hanging plant with a hook. I take the plant down and gore the snake on the hook. Angelyn stands at the door in stunned silence. I reach for her, but she backs away. She seems to be afraid of me. I can’t begin to understand why. I drop myself down at the table and she brings me water and some dry bread. I attack it like a starving prisoner and trust me when I say that I know what it feels like to be a starving prisoner. I fill my famished stomach and then sit back in the chair. I start to laugh, giddy with victory. I’m alive. I can’t believe it.

            Angelyn sits down beside me and I can see that she is shaking. “You’re crazy, I thought it before, but now I know for sure.” She looks at me for a moment and then she smiles.

            “Did you think you would be rid of me for good?” I smile back with relief. I take her hand in mine and squeeze. Her eyes fill with tears.

            “I thought you would die. A cobra bight always means death. No one lives through it. But you did. It’s a miracle.” She manages to get the words out between sobs.

            “I killed that cobra with my bare hands, when he bit me, I bit him right back.” My story was already forming in my head and the details were morphing into a heroic tale.

            “The whole village knows what you did and they’re all talking about it. Most of them saw you with the cobra in your hand. It freaked them out. They think you are crazy or something worse. They’re all scared of you now.” She is serious now and it worries me.

            “What about your family, what do they think?”

            “Well let’s just put it this way, Tatai will never cross you or challenge you again. He’s still in shock and to tell you the truth, he was worried sick. He thought you would die, and when you lived, he broke down in tears. It’s the second time I’ve ever seen him cry.” Angelyn lets out a little chuckle.

            “How long was I out?” I ask but a part of me doesn’t want to know.

            “You were out for two days, waking on and off. You had a raging fever and sometimes you thrashed in the bed, like you were having bad dreams. My whole family has been in and out of the house during that time, wanting to know if you were still alive. No one thought you would live. The doctor came, but there was nothing he could do. We don’t have medicine here for cobra venom.” She says it in a matter of fact way. She doesn’t know that she lives in a third world country. It’s just normal reality to her.

            “Well, I guess we Americanos are immune to cobra venom.” I chuckle. The gravity of my near death experience has not hit home yet.

            “That is not true. About four years ago, a man from America died from a cobra bite. There have been others from the village too. You have to be careful when you’re walking in the tall grass. When the men go up the mountain, they always carry a bolo.”

            “What’s a bolo?” I honestly don’t have a clue.

            “It’s a very large knife.”

            “Well, I think I will get me one of those.” I overdo my American accent for effect.

            “You think, duh, I’m never letting you out of my sight again. You are so crazy, who knows what you might get into.”

            We both laugh but I can see a tinge of seriousness in her demeanor. I get up from the table and everything starts to spin. I grab and steady myself on the back of the chair. We make our way down the hall and I crash on the bed.

            “I am so tired, I need to sleep some more.”

            “Ok, baby, you sleep, you have earned it.”

            Just before I drift I remember Angelo. “Where is the little ankle biter?”

            “He’s with my parents. He was pretty scared and I was focussed on you so he stayed there. He was so worried about you. It was cute. He kept asking for you and he cried. We all thought we would lose you for sure. You’ll get quite a welcome when you’re well enough, but don’t be surprized if people are scared of you for the first little while.” I take her warning, but I hope they are not too scared.

            “Can you tell me why Tatai was so angry about my rat trap, I can’t understand it.”

            “I’ll explain tomorrow. I’m too tired right now.” Angleyn snuggles in close and it’s like she doesn’t want to let me go. It’s the love of a woman just getting her man back from war and I eat it all up. I hold her close and we drift into sleep in the darkest hour of the night. All is well again and we sleep late into the morning, until the sun sits high above our metal roof and starts to heat the house like an oven. There is a slogan here, used to attract tourism. They say “it’s more fun in the Philippines.” Hell, if they only knew.