Another fragment of a day, lost & found. This one popped up during a desktop search for my driv (er’s license).
The guy in front of us is shaving with a thin disposable razor. Cigarette in hand, wearing a black t-shirt proclaiming BOLERO. But he’s shaving while standing on the back of a giant dumpster truck, barreling down the streets of Barangay Olympia.
“Thug life, ma’am.”
I kind of crack up laughing.
The driver shrugs again.
“Thug life.”
We return to our conversation.
“Sorry ma’am, but I have to ask you something, are you… half? Like half Filipino?”
Nope. I explain — the whole “half Korean, half Chinese, born and raised in California” thing. It’s always interesting how people conceive the United States as a country of white people.
I ask him how he’s learned about the U.S. He thinks about this.
“I guess movies. And my friends, they travel. Chicago.”
He tells me he has a friend living in the States, working as an architect. They know each other from high school. I ask where he went to school.
“Uh I didn’t finish it, because — money. I was a scholar, but my family need money so I stop and then — work. For my mom. Because my dad was dead already.”
Ah. I tell him that I’m sorry.
“It’s okay ma’am. It’s a long time ago.”
He tells me he had wanted to study mass media and communication, and become a DJ. I ask him if he can just start teaching himself, or go back to school. I come up with all these ideas.
He laughs.
“No I can’t, ma’am.”
I ask why.
“I have four brothers. They study because of me. I want them to finish their studies.”
Right.
We get distracted by Waze. The app occasionally lags, which doesn’t make for navigating little streets very well. The streets we’re driving through are arched by strings of colorful, fluttering little flags.
