Life and death in the Philipines

For two years I had been wandering in between the creeks and cracks of Asia. I had learned how to listen to Om from the Tibetans and how to speed walk while staying inwardly still from the Japanese. Kung Tzu’s dialects had been whispered to me by spirit scholars in Xian and I had met Angels and Demons on the beaches of Ko Pang Gan. I was living a life of spiritual momentum, that is until I landed in Manila.

I had just left Tokyo for the second time. Tourist visas being what they are I was obliged to leave the country after three months of stay. I knew a few expats who deemed this law trivial but I was never the one to risk imprisonment. After quitting my job as a cook in a small American sports bar I headed towards the Philippines in order to continue my adventure. At this time my wallet had grown quite light. The money I had saved two years ago had all been spent. On top of that although I had a round trip ticket back to Japan I was afraid I my entry would be rejected. I had heard stories about travelers getting stopped at customs upon their third entry in one year. They were held in the airport until they could find a way back to their own country. I toured the islands of the Philippines for a month but when my funds grew dry I returned to Manila in order to decide whether or not I should just go home. The night before my flight to Tokyo I wandered the streets in order clear my head. I knew I didn’t want to go home but the idea of getting rejected at the gates didn’t seem all that nice either.

I walked, winding through back alleys, searching for an answer. Thankfully life graced me with one. Not paying attention to where I was going I had wandered upon a funeral held on the side of a small street. I looked within a small open casket and found dead child laying inside. After my initial shock and sadness I looked about me and found that the moarning family was playing cards. They sat around the coffin on small chairs, trading money with each hand. I was shocked, having this western attitude of do's and don’ts for solemn occasions such as this.

 I walked away, back to my hotel, totally transfixed by this event. After another hour of searching, I had gotten quite lost, I found my pension house and settled into one of the plush chairs in the lobby. A Philippino business man, of whom I had become fast friends, wandered in and immediately I told him of my experience. He said that it was normal, that many Philippinos like to play cards at funerals. “How can they play games, aren’t they grieving”? I was fairly distraught. “They are grieving. In life you either go flush or go bust and it’s just luck one way or another. All life is a gamble. I think they just want to remind themselves of that fact”. All life is a gamble and so that’s what I did, I gambled. I got on the plane the next day willing to take my chances with fate. Luckily I drew a good hand.