Une ville réinventée: Japan Airlines finally landed in Quezon City, Philippines at 11.30 pm, a 1,628 mile cosmic disconnect from frozen-over and commercialized Seoul, South Korea, where fur lined winter coats in -2 degree Celsius weather. Upon arriving in Metro Manila, I felt like I had already passed through two countries during the eight-hour transport: from a delicately permed middle-aged Korean woman with her family in Incheon Airport, the brown-haired, pink-blushed young Japanese woman with her entourage in Narita International Airport to the warm-skinned older man greeting his friends with ‘Kumusta‘ at Manila’s immigration line.
I peeled myself off of my friend‘s floor and saw Quezon City in daylight for the first time. Jeepneys, tricycles and cars drove erratically along the Katipunan stretch, and all that I remembered while being on the porch was an unloaded calm. For the first time I was standing under the warm sun and could not wait to nosedive into this imperfect tangle, lush in its raw existence warmed by a post-____ world.