I spend now some few hours at this certain internet cafe, where students linger after lunch and yell and cuss at each other while playing Warcraft III, where I have spent some considerable time during the past few months, a place which I have considered a strange refuge from boredom and homesickness, before I board the ship bound for home. I think about it now, and after four months, I am overwhelmingly excited. However, I have a feeling I will miss my spot here, under the arctic breath of an airconditioner, when I have gone. I decided to write a sort of a little, perhaps, farewell to Cebu. I have not enjoyed my stay here as much as I have appreciated my previous stay, which I deemed at the time to be a liberation, for I did not see much of Cebu except that trip to that overly expensive wet party. Of course, I am not here to be a tourist but as a graduate trying to reclaim his professional license. Still, I think now, that I should have went out more since I am here. There will be more time for that, anyway, next time. This will not be my last visit. Until then, farewell Cebu. And thank you for not letting your thieving scourges set loose upon me while I walked on your streets countless times.

I was sitting quite uncomfortably in a posh parlour, a place unusual to have visitors of status such as myself, with a friend in one of Cebu's malls. Lying in front of us, on top of the polished table, lay a steaming and squirming slice of an overpriced pizza waiting to be consumed with animal ferocity for I was severely famished from walking around the expansive mall for hours. However, being in such a place of utter class, for people there eat their food with strange finesse unbecoming of Filipinos, I was inevitably infected and thus, with great reserve, ate my pizza like a refined gentleman. Certainly, if it were not socially imprudent to do so, I would have seized the italian morsel like a scampering rat and wholly put it in my mouth and decide how to chew it later.

I was in this state of 'fine dining' when a young girl, who seems to be in her teens and dressed in quiant, doily-ish attire, interrupted us by handing out an envelope printed by by proverbial letters of some christian religion. Apparently, she was asking us for donations. My friend, on the process of masticating a sizeable slice, was unable to speak and sat there looking at me and impatiently motioning me to take care of the matter. I, on the other hand, having been disturbed from satisfying my hunger, was in no gracious mood. I gave the girl some outlandish excuse for not giving and returned to my meal without another word. My friend, after a gulp of his cola, apologized to the girl, perhaps on my account. The girl, with a kind smile, said "it's okay".

I was taken aback by her response that I almost choked on my dinner. I guess I expected her to turn around silently, like all the others, however, this girl, with a surprisingly educated voice, chose to be friendly and replied in soothing tone that I wasn't, after all, an evil man. The sight of the girl, being declined from table to table (until at last a gentleman handed her some coins on her way out), made me lose my appetite quite suddenly and filled my heart with shame and pity. My eyes were on her still as she made her way through the crowd and lost sight of her as she quickly turned a corner. I finished the pizza with much less enthusiasm that was ever possible from a half-starving man. What does a mere ten-peso compare to an expensive pizza? I asked myself. And could have made a girl's sauntering around a mall on an afternoon and suffering the indignity of asking money from people perhaps, even by just a little, worth her while?