Sunset by the Bridge

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!

Open Air Altar

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.