Swan dinghies in the recreational lake in Burnham Park, Baguio City.
The park is tired and weary. Even the once-majestic swans and the well-manicured bushes can barely conceal the decrepit conditions of the park. Peddlers of cheap keychains are numerous; overpriced local fruits and nuts are being sold in every corner. Heck, even unsavory characters-turned-henna tattoo artists lodged themselves in this place, with an apparent niche market, or they would've gone elsewhere.
But I come here every chance I get. All those ingredients turn into a surprisingly good melange of crashing cultures. The hint of urbanity and the pleasant smell of men who just hauled manure from their backyard farms blend well into the mountain air. Very homey yet unusually alien.
