Summer of '96 ( I Wrote Something During the Pandemic )

...continued

The summer of ninety six, was especially uncomfortable, the combination of ridiculously warm temperature and absolutely high humidity was a recipe for heat strokes, a sauna-like atmospheric condition foreigners from the west passionately despise. Despite the constant reminder from my mother to not play beyond the confines of our residence, with a head as hard as Moh’s indestructible minerals, i ventured into the outside world in the swelling heat of the sun, without a care in the world. I have preplanned to ride the trisikad, a small rickshaw that can only transport a child as heavy as half a sack of rice, not used for business but only for leisure. The brand new toy had three no-flat tires, a solid non padded saddle that were the most uncomfortable to sit on, the kind that will make the skin over your ischial tuberosities turn red and sore the next day, handlebars that were too loose, and a metal crossbar with bright neon green letter stickers that read Toto, thus it wasn’t really my belonging. The thought of spinning freely down the road in the sunshine made me feel joyous, why riding a bike, or in my case, a tricycle, was so much fun, i did not know. 

The faster i pedaled, the faster my heart beat and the happier i was, a perfect example of an exhilarating moment in a child’s life that triggers a cascade of hormonal responses starting in the human brain, stimulating the glands found directly above the bean shaped kidneys to release adrenaline into the systemic circulation. Adrenaline rush, something that makes you breathe faster, something that makes your heart race, something a child would not easily understand or would even care about , and something some young adults unknowingly seek constantly. I moved unbelievably fast and was in total control, like a blind fruit bat with a surprisingly perfect sense of direction. 

The full-force humidity reminded me of the heavenly comfort of the cool bamboo flooring of our tiny home, a box shaped architecture that has stood the test of times, its confused aesthetic of patched up metal sheets was an unpleasant sight to behold, its crudely stacked hallow cement blocks and solid mahogany posts provided a somewhat strong foundation to withstand extreme weather inclemencies, super-typhoons, strong earthquakes, floods or landslides. Red bougainvilleas tower over the bamboo fences, with unforgiving thorns serving the same purpose as the spiked iron gates of the rich, and anything trapped in their complicated network of wood vines, hats, slippers or a beach ball, were irretrievable. Across the house was a two story Spanish ancestral home owned by an affluent family of full bloodied Filipino parents with skins as dark as cocoa bars, and whose unfriendly sons and daughters went to a private school next town, ran by strict nuns who never let the female students wear skirts above their knees. Next to our humble abode was a  sari-sari store,  where you could buy a portion of any known household products there was. Bing, the stay-in lady store keeper regularly displayed an even row of glass jars filled with assorted candies in silver and golden wrappers, my favorite were the caramel candies, fifty centavos a piece. Sachets of shampoos and conditioners hanged like draperies on the wall, cooking oils in large see-through plastic bottles sold by milliliters funneled into small transparent plastic bags, five-day old bread rolls a peso each, refrigerated coco-cola in glass bottles, and unhealthy monosodium-rich flavored snacks in aluminum bags, were just some of the overpriced goods sold. Out of probably five sari-sari stores sprawled in our street, Bing’s was the most appealing, but had products that were usually ten or fifty cents more in the price tags. Bing’s head magically appeared through a small opening in her store's chicken wire meshed window, and instantly threw at me a dagger look as i slow down and sped up the trisikad. She was in her late forties, she had a long black, straight hair unusual for her age, brown eyes, a light coffee complexion and thick lips wearing thicker red Avon lipsticks. At the top of her lungs, she yelled, slow down you crazy child or you’ll be sorry! I went faster.

To be continued...