Chapter twenty one: Manila, all good things come to an end

Manila, all good things come to an end

Before I will enter the last days of my trip, I must admit that I don't regret going home. 
And Manila is the place to desire to be home again. Manila, ppfff, this is not a place to live. Manila, dark grey city of concrete, city of death...this is the first place where I don't go out at night. There are tons and tons of policemen on the street, every store has its own guard...that's says enough. The war against drugs continues every night, dead people every night taxi drivers tell me. Instead the war should be turned at the fast food chains, just unbelievable how many fast food restaurants are located in 1 square kilometer. Like many Asians, a mall is a gathering place for them. I couldn't believe my eyes, so many fat people eating more fat food in all these restaurants. This was definitely the last thing I was expecting to see in the Philippines.

Seeing all this fat things, I was pleased that I had planned a trip to mountain Pinatubo, but for some reason they did not so show up. My pick was at 02.00 am, after an hour of waiting and calls, I decided to pull it off and went to bed again. More luck next time and fortunately I did not pay, perhaps that was also the reason why they didn't show. But really a shame, I wanted to see the devastated landscape 26 years after the eruption of Pinatubo, the second largest eruption of the 20th century...ah well all things must have a reason.

I haven't lived in Amsterdam for 3 years now, so kind looking forward to it. It will be something new again, new experience, new contrast, new life, new way of living. Good things must come to an end, otherwise you don't appreciate it. You need to compare it...in my case I need to look back to look forward again, if I want to experience something new. Normally I would say never look back, it can hurt more than it will do good but this is different. A new way of living...the untamed bear within me has been tamed for hopefully at least 18 years. The roaring has gone quiet...finally... I thought it would never go silence. 

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a Green Bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Living abroad, traveling in the hardest but also sometimes in luxurious conditions, has eased me. Always looking for contrasts, from deserts, to mountains, jungles, tundra, caves, relics of the past, ancient places, massive cities, little villages, and so much more. Knowing how life is in the poorest conditions, experienced it...nothing will impress me anymore for quite a while. Still the biggest challenge is in front of me, sounds cryptic and weird I know.  But I will follow a path many have gone before, but I will have to do it a different way, and that can only be my way.