Road to Epiphany

I'll never forget the day that I saw children who knocked on car windows.

When I was 13 years old I traveled to the Philippines, the home country of my parents, for the second time in my life. The first time, I was about 4 years old so aside from the scorching heat and humidity, I didn't remember much, but at least I got that part right. The Philippines is without a doubt the hottest place I've ever been in my life. With its numerous white sand beaches, it has become a vacation spot for people all over the world

Home to the 11th largest shopping mall, the SM Mall of Asia, there are countless tourist spots to visit in this country of islands. Shopping is the reason many people love to visit the Philippines, for it's famous for its amazingly affordable prices. As a 13 year old kid, I didn't have a lot of money, but even just bringing $250 made me feel like a king. Be warned, with low price can come low quality. Many flea markets are filled with knock-off designer fashion, and so convincing, you can't tell the difference!

However for me, the memories that I will keep for the rest of my life, aren't those of shopping malls. The memories that I will keep are of astonishing displays of poverty. I always took everything for granted in life, after that trip, I never did again. In 1st world society, when we see poverty we immediately associate it with a foreign entity, one which we aren't apart of. During that trip, I learned it was an entity my family was very much apart of, an entity that I came from.

Whether it is driving through the streets of the capital city of Manila, or the rural countrysides, you will never fail to have little children coming up to the window begging you for money, or selling whatever they could get their hands on. When I got to my father's family farm, it was like being transported to a charity infomercial. It was a small two bedroom house, with no running water, or windows for that matter. The bed I slept on was a wooden plank softened with hay, and covered with a bed sheet.

Here I am, a 13 year old kid annoyed at the low battery life of his mp3 player, while my father used to be one of those kids knocking on car windows. My father came from eating birds they were lucky enough to catch, to living in two-story house in the suburbs of Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. To me, that is the true heart of the Philippines. It is a heart of perseverance, a heart that can smile, despite all the sadness. That is the real Philippines.