So my cowsins have projected their fear on to H and I, fear of pickpockets, fear of crazy people, fear of walking too “far.” Far is in quotes because they believe “far” starts at the end of the block.
Today H and I were dropped at the Plaza Miranda with ate M; I think ate D thought we’d look around for 45 minutes and call her back after lunch. We called to be picked up (she insists we can’t take a cab) at about a quarter to four, and as predicted, she couldn’t believe that we had walked all over Quiapo and Binondo without incident. We went into Quiapo Church, bought souvenirs and pasalubong, ate an ice cream sandwich (suck it, Andrew Zimmern) and had lunch in a Chinese restaurant.
Ate D nearly gave herself a heart attack with disbelief, and I gave her a friendly carefrontation about her fear. Then next time I hear a lecture about how a stupid tourist got pickpocketed due to their own stupidity, I’m going to puke on somebody’s shoes. My neighborhood in Seattle was more dangerous than this; H spent a week broke in Barcelona for pete’s sake, we are not the snowflakes our cowsins think we are.
Anyway, we were in a department store shopping for handkerchiefs or tsinelas or something when I heard the public address system start the Angelus. There were harp-like sound effects in the back ground. Filipinos express their faith with no legal abortion, no legal divorce, and ignoring the cheesy-ass department store Angelus.
Later H and I wandered into the Muslim section of Quiapo (ate D: *gasp in horror*), where H found sunglasses for 50 pesos! She bought two! While she was paying, the Call to Prayer started over the neighborhood public address, and it was beautiful; seriously, the singing was beautiful. The food there looked good, too.
Pictures and video later.