Before I begin, I just want to say that I love the Philippines. My experience was my individual experience and I tend to be a magnet for chaos. The Philippines has some of the most beautiful beaches I have have ever seen. The culture was amazingly kind and fun loving. I saw some of the best karaoke singers I have ever seen. So many locals love to sing and dance, it’s encouraged. I did want to get the fuck out of the Philippines by the end of my trip, but what I’m really saying is, I want to get the fuck out of my life more than anything.

It was my last day in Bohol, Philippines.  Bohol is the tenth largest Island in the Philippines.  It’s located in the central Visayas region surrounded by 75 islands.  I didn’t know this at the time, I just quickly googled Bohol and those were the first couple facts listed on Wikipedia.  Anyway, Bohol was the last leg of my trip through the Philippines. This island left a bad taste in my mouth. No, not from the food, but certain situations I found myself in.  I’ll write in greater detail about how an older gentleman from Boston, who owned a pizza shop in Bohol, took my friends (both male) and I to a brothel in the middle of the jungle filled with under age girls and how I completely berated the pizza shop owner for bringing us to such a place when I told him, “It better not be a brothel you’re taking us too”, which he of course said it was not.  He promised he was taking us to a “Party in the jungle”. He pounded a few drinks and once he realized we weren’t having any fun, he threatened to leave us at the brothel. I demanded that he take us back to our hostel. In a drunken rage, he drove us down a dirt road in the middle of the night in the jungle going way too fast and almost wrecking his car with us inside. I’ll save this story for another day.  

Anyway, my two friends and I had decided that we were all going to go our separate ways and continue our travels without one another.  We said our goodbyes at our hostel and there I was sitting on the side of the road with everything I owned at the time, my big backpack which contained all my clothes and toiletries and my Kipling backpack which contained other things like books and my journal, trying to figure out how I was going to get to the Panglao International Airport.  I pulled out a cigarette and walked up to a man selling my favorite beer, San Miguel Beer, because it cost under a $1. I asked him where I could find someone to take me to the airport. He waved at a local man from across the street leaning against a large white van. He looks promising, I thought to myself. He had dark skin and wore casual beach attire. The local man said it was okay for me to finish drinking my beer and smoking my cigarette in the van.  Sweet, I like this guy already.  

We start driving away from the comfort of the hostel I had been staying at the past few nights and down a long fairly desolate road.  The streets were lined with little shops made out of bamboo, locals sitting cross legged on the dirt road and thick green tropical trees lined the street.  We start making small talk. His english is pretty good. He’s asking me about my travels and where I’m from. I finish my beer and cigarette. I place the beer in the cup holder and throw the cigarette inside the bottle, I’m feeling right at home.

Then, out of nowhere, this man, this stranger, asks me if I’m a virgin.  I laugh, trying to hide my discomfort. “That’s none of your business”, I replied. My body starts to tense. He then says something along the lines of, “I hear women from America are open minded and very open about their sexuality.”  I look at him, he had this look in his eyes like a deranged animal about to pounce on its prey. I mean he’s not wrong. I am definitely what you would call “sexually liberated”, but also in my liberation, I get to choose who I want to touch me. I quickly glance around the van and realize, I am very much alone. Here I am sitting in my comfy Thai hippy pants and cotton crop top with no bra on, I’m a free meal. The hairs on my neck start to stand up, I sense danger.

He then places his hand on my inner left thigh.  I swatted his hand away and told him no. I could tell he was getting frustrated.  He then tries moving his hand up to my left breast and grazes my nipple. I hit his hand again and tell him to pull over and let me out of the car.  He starts to laugh and tells me he’s just playing around and told me to relax. Which of course made me panic more. I begged him to please pull over and let me out of the car.  I could feel my face turning red. I could hear my heart thumping in my chest and in my ears. I can’t think clearly, the beer and cigarette are flowing through my veins making me feel lightheaded and queasy.    

What was I thinking? Of course this would happen. I was so naive to think I could do this alone.  The bamboo shops lining the street slowly fade away into the background and we’re now on a road only surrounded by dense trees and random dirt roads leading to nowhere.

I took a deep breath and snapped out of my panic mode and quickly ran my eyes up and down his body. He couldn’t be more than 5’2 I guessed. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly I could see his veins popping out of his forearms. He looks like he’s worked with his hands his entire life. He may be little, but I could tell he was strong. 

My breath quickened. I couldn’t get any words to come out of my mouth. I kept glancing around the road hoping to see a familiar face, but nothing felt familiar anymore. The only thing that felt familiar was my fear. My fear that this man was going to attack me. I cursed my carefree attitude that drove me to get into this strangers car with no makeup, no bra, a full beer in my belly and pants he could easily rip in half if he wanted to.

He reached again for my left breast and I slapped his hand away. This time with much more vigor than I previously had. My survival instincts started to kick it. I start glancing around the front of the van searching for something I could use as a weapon. I gripped the handle to the door ready to open it and jump out. We were going about 40 miles per hour. I kept thinking how I’d have to leave my two backpacks full of all my stuff. It’s just stuff Molly, trying to reason with myself. I had my passport and money strapped to my hip. I pictured myself leaping out of the van and rolling on the ground like I was doing some sort of 007 somersault. But then reality kicked in and I pictured myself jumping out of the van and completely smashing my face onto the pavement and cars swerving around me and running over my limp body.

So now I have two options. Either fight this guy and possibly become a victim of a brutal attack or jump out of a moving vehicle. To be raped and brutally murdered definitely came in far second place, so just as I was mustering up the courage to leap from the car, the little man looks at me, his eyes looked different, they softened. I could see the little boy inside of this mans face. He starts to apologize while simultaneously whining that I should wear a bra. His apology was filled with blaming me for how he acted.

I felt guilty for looking the way I did. I felt relieved that this man was backing down. My hand was still gripping the handle of the van. His softened gaze met mine, like a light switch, he looked hungry again.  His eyes started traveling down towards my breast again and in a flash his hand darted and gripped my left breast and he gave it a good squeeze this time, like he was saying goodbye. I scream at him again to stop, but this time I start to cry. I could feel the hot tears start to form in the corners of my eyes and fill up till they start pouring down my face. The tears stung my sunburned cheeks.

The little man starts to laugh and says, “Don’t cry”. Which made me cry more. I felt like I was in a torture chamber. All I wanted was to go home and be wrapped in my mother’s arms cuddled up on the couch in-front of the tv watching Family Guy. All I wanted was to be under a roof with doors that had locks on them, keeping men like this out. I pictured my mom finding out that her daughter was murdered in the Philippines and her body was found in a ditch on the side of the road. I pictured my moms tears and I wanted more than anything to survive.

“We’re here.” I look up, my eyes trying to make out what was in-front of me. I could see a plane in the distance. The Airport. Thank fucking God. He unlocked the doors and I nearly fell out onto the street because my hand was glued to the handle and my body pressed so far against the door trying to be as far from the little man as possible in the torture chamber that was disguised as a transportation van. I scramble to my feet and he hands me my bags. He smiles at me and waves goodbye. He hops back in his torture chamber and starts talking to another man standing on the street. I had never been so happy to have my feet on the ground.

I grab my bags and run to the sidewalk.  I reach down in my little purse that’s strapped around my hips that contains all of my most important possessions and pull out a cigarette. I take a seat on the ground near some locals sitting cross-legged taking drags from their cigarettes. The first inhale of that cancer stick was like heaven. I sucked down that first cigarette so fast it burned my fingers, so I quickly pull out another one to clam my nerves. I felt like I dodged a bullet, a bullet shaped like a little man willing to rape and murder me. I watch as the van drives off until it was completely out of sight. I had no urge to try and tell the authorities or anyone for that matter.  I was in a foreign land, a land that doesn’t know me, a land with different rules and expectations, a land that I was not apart of. All I wanted to do was get the fuck out of the Philippines.

That’s what I did.  I boarded that plane, and off to Manila I went, then back to Thailand.  Thailand at this point of my trip started to feel like home. It was familiar compared to the other countries I visited.  As soon as I was strapped down in my seat, safe within the walls of the flying metal box, I looked down at the Philippines, big and little green islands surrounded by the most beautiful oceans, and waved it goodbye.  I waved like the little man had waved at me. There were no hard feelings, just relief to be leaving the past behind me.