Most of my life was spent in Morningside Heights, an infamous tiny suburb for the elite pioneers back in the 60s, but that glories are all fading as Davao emerges to be a town of equal opportunities for immigrants. It has been exactly 20 weeks since I left this laid-back little crowded town, and it's only now that it syncs to me that I miss it.
It's dodgy and sleazy, but it's also a home for me. I speak the language, I speak the dialect. I know how to blend in when I'm there, and I can recognise the foul odour of it's iconic fruit as an aroma.
The photo above is my hideaway, from our 3-storey house, on my attic bedroom, I have this roof access. Our house is situated on a hilltop in the uptown district, so I have a good view of lights yet enjoy the silence of the echoing nearby power plant. It's also good to walk less than 10 minutes down the hill to get some goodies at the 24-hour servo, 'convenience'.
I would remember just randomly going out at night and meeting friends, they're just a text away. They seem that you're always the top-priority friend. Seeing them is just a jeepney ride away, no checking of bus timetables or buying a ridiculously priced bus ticket. Just hop into one (that heads to your destination), hand in some few spare change and that can take you as far as the driver decides. I can also catch a cab: safe and very cheap. It's very reliable and if you're lucky, the driver will try to put in some effort for a pleasing conversation.
I like how this little budding metropolis was born out of spontaneity: diverse locals, imported 'native' plants, sprouting mega shopping centres and urban zoning hopelessly enacted. It's all about trying your luck, rubbing elbows and looking at the bright-side of life. No plannings, no worries.
The weather is something too, it's accurately inaccurate. It's unpredictable. Humid, hot. You wouldn't want to walk one block, or else you'd perspire to dehydration, but I did it anyway. I am dark-skinned so I will have no worries about skin cancer, and taking an umbrella is socially acceptable even without rain, so sometimes I'd use it. The blasting air-conditioners in every establishment always feels like an oasis in the scorching desert. My tert school had it, I miss that place. I miss the people there.
The luxury incorporated in malls is also one thing I miss. The presence of wealthier people and tourists is probably the ones to blame, but hey, we all enjoyed it. I lived almost near everything and I like that proximity. It's walking-distance, apart from here where it seems like you have to drive to get anywhere. I miss the green-classy shops, Abreeza as it's popularly called. The beautiful 5 o'clock dusk at The Peak, too.
It's a little town, though locals think it's big. It's just populous and striving to gain reputation, maybe. I like it, I miss it. I don't see coming back any time soon, but surely, when I do, I'll probably wish to stay longer again. I like my set-up before, I could live both in Australia and in the little southern Filo town, but not any more, I've gotten older and things can't happen the way I want to be. At least for now.
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