Pam and I were on our way to Binondo that day--and were we on a jeepney or a taxi? I could no longer remember very clearly--when I pointed out to Pam this amazing sight as we were passing by the bridge. Suddenly, in a split of a second, Pam went haywire and immediately, I understood the urgency of our impulse. I went haywire, too.
As if we were in panic, we told the driver to stop and as soon as our feet touched the ground, both of us ran to the edge of the bridge and went crazy snapping photos as soon as we got there, oblivious of all the rushing traffic, which I knew was dangerous. I remember feeling the bridge shake and ramble every time a heavy truck or even a speeding car passed us by and there were just so many of them, passing us by. I feared that I would drop my camera and lost it forever but I continued snapping photos and did not stop.
I was also in constant fear of falling down--because Jones Bridge was a strange and unfamiliar bridge to me; its height an unfamiliar height; its location, an unfamiliar place. I just arrived in the capital city that week and I still had to get to know the place and its madness, but there I was, beside Pam, and both of us sucked into that most pleasurable madness, both madwomen in our own right!
Just after the Jones Bridge, as you head toward Binondo's Santa Cruz church, tucked somewhere in between the highway's chaotic traffic flow, lies a miraculously tiny piece of land that holds this oasis of faith.
I just can't get over the idea of Pam's herb garden on the 14th floor, where I spent the New Year hiding inside her room. As I thank the Monkey for an exhilarating year, I make friends with the Rooster to make this year a happier, healthier, more magickal one; but please, let us all survive this year, Rooster! Give us your wisdom, your discernment, your talent; especially your unique way of turning up something when normally other creatures can't see anything! Give us that power to look and to see and to find the way out of anything that could constrain or oppress us.
