Pizza. I miss pizza. I’ve been living off of noodles, rice and beer the past few weeks. I miss the salty, cheesy, gooey, tomatoey sauce that is pizza. I miss the way I can hold it with my two hands. I start by eating at the tip and make my way down to the crunchy, gooey crust. I love the way it’s shaped like a circle and cut into individual slices. I love everything about pizza, so when my friend and I heard there was an amazing pizza joint not too far from our hostel, we nearly jumped out of our beds and ran out the door without any clothes on. I had grown used to living on soups with noodles and rice with meat in the Philippines. The food is yummy, it’s healthy and it’s fresh. But nothing gets my mouth watering more than a slice of margherita New York style pizza.
We walk about ten minutes to the center of town. There are only a few shops and restaurants to choose from. We walk past a store selling little trinkets and hand crochet clothing. There’s a toddler standing outside the entrance eating a piece of fruit. His mother is inside the shop sweeping and singing a song. I smile at him, he smiles back. We reach our destination and there are a few tables outside with red umbrellas. I can already smell the fresh oven baked pizza cooking inside. My mouth starts to salivate. I look down and realize my friend and I aren’t wearing any shoes. I hardly wore shoes in the few months I traveled around Southeast Asia, it was pretty common to see foreigners walking around barefoot. This pizza joint felt so out of place and westernized that I thought maybe we wouldn’t be let in without any shoes on. My concern for restaurant health and safety code was quickly brushed to the side by the smell of pepperoni filling my nostrils. We float on in not giving it a second thought.
As soon as I stepped into that pizza joint, I was transported back to America. I felt like I was in Chicago or New York and I just walked down into a basement off the street to the hottest pizza joint in town. It was sunny outside but in here, it felt dark. The space was lined with cocktail tables, U shaped booths and a couple pool tables were tucked away in the back room. The place was small and friendly. I felt at home here. There was a menu written above the cashier in chalk. It listed all the classics: Cheese, pepperoni, sausage, margarita, and pesto. They sold individual slices and whole pizzas. My friend and I both agreed we should get two pizzas because we are ravenous animals who haven’t had pizza in what felt like ages. The young Philipino girl behind the counter is super sweet and talkative. My friend, let’s call him Paul, starts hitting on her and asking her what her favorite pizza is. Her favorite is the margherita, so we ordered one margherita and one pepperoni with sausage. We order a couple beers and find a comfortable spot outside under one of the red umbrellas. It’s so hot and humid that my butt cheeks instantly stick to the plastic chair. This doesn’t bother me. I’ve grown used to the humidity and rather enjoy it. I don’t have to wear many clothes and It makes my curls look great. I take an ice cold beer and rub it along my forehead. Paul and I start making small talk. We watch as some of the local kids play in the street in front of us. I look down and notice I’m already done with my first beer, so I go back inside to purchase another. This time when I enter the store an older white gentlemen is at the counter. He welcomes me with a smile and notices my empty beer bottle in my hand and offers me another one. He hands me one and says it’s on the house. I thank him and go back outside. The older gentlemen follows. He sits on a chair right next to Paul and I and pulls out a cigarette. I follow suit and pull out my Marlboro’s, but he’s quick to offer me one of his, I oblige.
His name is Bill. Bill is in his 50’s and he’s from Boston, Massachusetts. He has grey hair, blue eyes and a muscular physique. He moved to the Philippines many years ago and has many successful businesses around the country. This pizza joint, this little slice of heaven, was one of them. He asked Paul and I how we met and where we were from. I loved his Boston accent, it’s one of my favorites, so I really enjoyed listening to him talk. Again, I felt like I was home. He was very nice and charismatic and cursed every other word. He was fucking awesome. I was enjoying the conversation so much I had forgotten all about the pizzas. What felt like maybe 30 minutes later, our two pies make it to our table. They were divine. They were thin pizzas with big fluffy crust. I could taste every ingredient with each bite I took as it melted in my mouth. I had the perfect combination of fresh baked pizza, cheap watered down beer and cigarette aftertaste dancing around in my mouth. Bill entertained us with stories about his life while we scarfed down every last piece of our two pizzas. I could tell Bill got pleasure out of seeing us enjoy his pizzas. “Would you guys like to try another one on the house?” he asked. We both shook our heads yes while licking the delicious pizza sauce off our fingers. He walked back into the restaurant and reappeared moments later with three more beers in his hands. He hands one to me, one to Paul and sits back down into his chair, lights up another cigarette and pops open his beer. We’re having a great time. I’m feeling pretty tipsy at this point and my belly is so full of cheese and dough that it feels like it’s going to explode. But I can’t stop eating and drinking this man's food and beer. He’s so insistent on us having a good time, it was hard to say no. After about my fifth beer and tenth slice of pizza, the conversation starts to go in a different direction. Bill starts telling us about a party in the middle of the jungle. “It’s the best party on the island!” he booms. My curiosity is officially sparked. I love a good party. Bill tells us he has a van and that he can drive us to the location. “It’ll take about an hour to get there, but I promise you it’ll be totally worth it.” Even though I have about five or six beers in me, I felt a little uneasy about Bill’s proposal. I’m feeling pretty comfortable with Bill after hanging out with him for a couple hours, so I look at him straight in his eyes and say, “This better not be a brothel you are taking us to.” He slaps his knee and throws his head back in laughter. “Of course it’s not a brothel, it’s a party like I said, I promise,'' he says with a drunken grin and squinty eyes. “Come on, I just want to show you guys a good time!” I look at Paul and Paul looks a little concerned too. I mean Bill has given us free pizza and beer how could we say no? I pick my half full beer off the table and chug the rest. I take a deep breath and look at Bill and say, “Let’s do it!”
Paul and I wanted to change before heading out for the night, so we walk back to our hostel with plans to meet up with Bill a couple hours later back at his joint. On our short walk back to the hostel I decided to pop into a store and grab a bottle of Tanduay rum. Tanduay rum is the perfect mix of cheap and sweet. We take a few swigs of rum before we reach our hostel. We quickly get changed. We drunkenly invite our friend Mike to join in on our adventure to the jungle party with a 50 something year old Bostonian named Bill who owns the best pizza joint on the island. Paul, Mike and I are the three musketeers decked out in our nicest backpacker attire. We each have on our nicest cut off shirts and shorts. I’m even wearing a little bit of makeup and shoes. The three of us are now making the short walk back to the pizza joint were our new friend Bill would be waiting for us. We reach the red umbrellas and take a seat on the plastic chairs. The city center is a little more quiet than it had been earlier in the day. Most of the shops were closing and there were no kids playing in the street. We pass the bottle of Tanduay rum back and forth each taking little sips. The rum is making my belly feel warm and fuzzy. My face is starting to feel numb and my inhibitions are taking the backseat. “I can’t wait to dance!” I get up and shake my hips around. Paul and Mike laugh. I pull out a cigarette and try to light it, but it’s not working. I try to suck harder, but I stop myself and laugh because the cigarette is backwards and I’m lighting the filter. I’m definitely starting to brown out.
I finish my cigarette and just when I was about to pull out another one, a big white van pulls up in front of us. “Bill!” I ran to him and give him a big hug with my cigarette hanging out the side of my mouth. Bill looks at my friends and says, “You guys ready to party?!” “Hell yeah!” I scream. I offer Bill some of our Tanduay and he takes a huge gulp. He already has a half empty beer in his hand and he seems a little drunk, but it doesn’t bother me. I brush it off and we all pile into our chariot disguised as a big white van. Bill tells Paul and Mike to climb into the back and asks me to sit up front with him. I’m wearing short shorts and a crop top, my usual garb. Bill tells me I look really nice. I thank him. “I’m going to take you on a tour to the jungle party”, Bill slurs. Bill starts the car and I frantically look for my seatbelt. “Sorry hunny, there are no seatbelts in here.” He hands me a beer and reassures me that he's fine to drive. I take the beer in my hands and hold onto it as if it were the only thing that would keep me safe. I sit back in my seat and off we go.
We’re driving along the beach. The sun is starting to set and the sky is filled with pinks, purples, oranges and blues. Such an amazing sight to see. The sunset in Bohol is nothing short of a miracle. My senses are dulled from all the alcohol and beer, but my emotions are heightened. In this moment I almost cry because of how beautiful the world is. I take another sip of my beer and ask Bill if I can smoke a cigarette. He takes one out of his pack puts it in his mouth, lights it, then hands it to me. “What a gentlemen”, I think to myself while smiling at him. Bill is telling us about all the different beaches and a little history about the island. I’m not really paying any attention. I stare out the window and get lost in my thoughts about what the jungle party is going to look and feel like. I picture a DJ booth setup with lights lining the trees, people dressed in colorful clothing, dancing and taking drugs. I picture all the hot guys I can dance with and possibly kiss. We take a sharp left off the main highway and start down a dirt road. “This is where it gets a little sketchy,'' says Bill. We’re now bouncing up and down like we’re on the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland, except on this ride, this is all very real and we have no seat belts to keep us safe. Bill is keeping a pretty steady pace. I notice he doesn’t slow down or hit the brakes around each turn, like he’s driven this road many times before or because he’s shit faced drunk, or most likely a combination of the two. It’s pitch black in the jungle. Our windows are down and I can hear the jungle singing. I hear the insects humming and the frogs whistling. I can see little outlines of shacks along the road, most look empty. There are little bonfires off in the distance in between the trees. I ask Paul for the Tanduay and he hands it to me. As I’m trying to take a sip, we hit a big dip in the road and I accidentally take a much bigger gulp than I had intended. That swig of rum goes straight to my brain and I’m now full on drunk. I am numb, I am in between browning out and blacking out, and I’m ready to get to our destination.
Just when I couldn’t take another minute bouncing around in the van, we pull up to a large shack and come to a screeching halt; my face almost hits the dashboard. “What the fuck Bill?!” He laughs and says we’re here. We all stumble out of the van and I don’t hear any music or see any lights lining the trees and there are definitely no young hot guys dressed in colorful clothing wanting to be kissed. Bill walks up to the shack and says something in Filipino. I hear a woman respond and start yelling in Filipino. Then out of nowhere, lights turn on in the trees and music starts playing. “Okay, that’s a little weird,” I thought to myself. I look at Paul and Mike, they look a little concerned too. Bill yells for us to come over to him. He leads us up a short flight of stairs into an open seating area. It’s a bar and it’s made out of bamboo. There are booths with comfy pillows and tables to set your drinks on. A very young, beautiful Philipino girl walks up to us with a tray of drinks. She sets them down on the table and Bill thanks her and asks her to sit with us. He introduces Paul and Mike to her, but not me. I take one of the drinks and sit back into my seat. My eyes are starting to adjust to the lighting and I take a moment to soak in my surroundings. I notice there are only young Philipino women walking around. Most are dressed in short skirts and crop tops and they’re all looking at us. Just when I was about to say something to Bill, an older Philipino woman walks up to us and introduced herself. She says her name is May. She’s nice, almost too nice. The alcohol is pulsing through my veins and I start to see what is going on here. “This is most definitely a brothel,'' I thought to myself.
I’m a little shocked at what I’m seeing. I think I’m in shock. I try to sit back and relax and take a sip of the drink they had given us, but my blood is boiling. May could tell I was agitated, so she asked me to come with her so she could give me a tour. She pretty much lifted me out of my seat and ushered me away from Bill and my friends. We’re now walking the grounds of the brothel. There are women everywhere. Most of the women are covered in makeup and hardly any clothing. I could smell perfume and hairspray as we walked through the courtyard. Most of the girls are wearing forced smiles as they walk by me. We reach the pool area and she’s telling me how well they take care of the girls that work there. “Each girl has her own bed and they can make a living doing this.” She explains. “There are not a lot of job opportunities on this island.” I’m trying to take in what she’s saying, but I’m too drunk to try and reason with her or with myself, and I’m getting more agitated and uncomfortable with each second that passes. Just as May was finishing her spiel, a girl that looked about 10 years old walks past me. She looks at me and shows me her teeth like she’s trying to smile. It was at this point that I completely lost it. I demanded to be taken back to my friends. I start yelling for Paul and Mike. “Paul!” “Mike!” “Help me!” May tells me to be quiet and to let the men finish their tour. I frantically pull out a cigarette and try to light it. My hands are shaking so much that I can barely hold my lighter in my hand. May guided me back to the bar where I had last seen Paul and Mike. She tells me to take a seat and try to relax. I’m fuming at this point. “Motherfucking Bill promissed me he wasn’t taking us to a brothel, I’m going to fucking kick his ass when I see him!” Just as I was finishing my internal rant, Bill shows up. I ran right up to him and start yelling all sorts of profanities at him. “You fucking pig motherfucking pervert!” I take a step back and take a deep breath and notice that Bill is extremely wasted. He is swaying side to side and he looks pissed. He starts yelling, “I just wanted to show you guys a good time! Fuck you, I’m leaving you here. You can figure out your own ride home!” Just then Paul and Mike reappear. I run up to Paul and throw my arms around him and tell him I need to get out of here, he agrees. Bill storms off out of sight and Paul, Mike and I are left sitting in the bar. Paul and Mike are telling me how on their tour, they were shown where the girls sleep and the private rooms they could use if they wanted to buy a girl for the night. My friends said the living quarters were terrible. They were dirty and dark and there was hardly any bedding or furnishings in the rooms. Mike and Paul said they felt uncomfortable and wanted to leave as well. I remember Bill yelling that we could find our own way home, so I suggested we go wait by his van to make sure he doesn’t leave without us or else we would be stranded in the middle of the jungle, at a brothel, in the middle of the night, having absolutely no idea where we were.
We waited for about 30 minutes before Bill showed up stumbling and fumbling down the short staircase to where the van was parked. He looks at me and tells me to fuck off and to find my own my way home. I was so terrified of this whole place and this whole situation that I refused to be left here in the middle of the night. I walk right up to Bill and grab him by his shirt and look him right in his blood shot eyes and say, “You promised me that you weren't going to take us to a brothel. You lied to us. You are going to drive us back to our hostel because you owe us that!” My inner mom came out in that moment. I needed to be taken away from this place and I needed that to happen now. Bill drops his head like a little boy and tells me to fuck off. He jumps in his van, turns it on and starts driving away. I run next to his van, slamming my palm on the side door and screaming at him to stop and to take us with him. He stops, unlocks the doors and reluctantly tells us to get in. This time Paul and I pile into the back while Mike sits up front with Bill. Bill is driving erratically and cursing the whole way home. He’s careening around every blind corner, I swear I can feel the wheels of one side of the van lift off the ground. I can see Bill’s head swaying side to side like he’s falling asleep. Paul and I are holding each other in the back, while Mike is trying to reason with Bill. After what feels like hours being thrown around in the back of a van, we finally reach the main highway and Bill slows down a little. He’s still cursing at us and mumbling about how he just wanted us to have a good time. We’re wide eyed and staring straight ahead. I’m crying and sniffling in the back, trying not to full on wail. We finally make it back to our hostel. We jump out of the van and before I have time to close the sliding door, Bill speeds off down the street and disappears around a corner. We all let out a huge sigh of relief and take a seat in the common area of the hostel to talk about what just happened. Luckily I had some more rum in my backpack so I grab it and we continue to drink until the situation becomes funny. We’re saying things like, “Wow, we barely made it out alive!” or “What the hell just happened?!”
We go over the whole situation play by play. It was such a planned out thing that Bill had orchestrated. He gets us really drunk, then convinces us to go to a party in the jungle, then let’s May know that we are there, they turn the music back on and get the drinks flowing. They pull me away from the men, so they can try and get the men to purchase time with the girls and so on. I look back now with a clear head and can see that May was maybe being honest when she said that it is hard to find work on the island, this is most likely true. I’m sure it’s really hard to make a living there. I also looked up what the age of consent is in the Philippines and it is 12 years old. That girl I thought was 10 may have been 12 years old which would have made it consensual. Prostitution is not legal in the Philipines but it is somewhat tolerated.
My beliefs and morals came spewing out of my intoxicated body when I witnessed the brothel. I couldn’t hold in my feelings or my outrage. I have felt used and taken advantage of and my heart couldn’t help but feel all of those things when I saw those women in the brothel. I felt the energy of that place. The women looked anything but happy. I had only been there for less than an hour and it felt like a prison. When Bill threatened to leave us there, I thought I would be stuck there forever. I still think about it from time to time and wonder what it’s like for those girls who live and work there. I don’t know how they feel being there. They may be happy for all I know and well taken care of like May said, but I will never know.
What started off as an innocent game of finding the best pizza joint in the Philippines, turned into a night I will never forget. I still smell the fresh baked pizza and taste the sweet Tanduay rum. I can still remember the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen and I can hear the jungle singing. I still think about those women living and working in that brothel and wonder how they are doing. Life can take us anywhere, anytime. I cherish all of these memories and the people I experienced them with, even Bill. Without Bill, I wouldn’t be able to write this story. So thank you Bill for being fucking crazy and allowing me this awesome story to reflect on.
