recto and españa
Tuesday was a long day. After finishing what I’m supposed to do and having lunch at 4:00 pm, it was time to attend to my addiction. So here I was again on the train heading towards Carriedo with a backpack of overnight clothes and my camera. It was getting dark, and I was more conscious of the backpack I was carrying than the camera hanging by my side. It would have been a lot easier had I left the bag at home, but I haven’t checked in yet. I was just on my way home, my brother’s home, that is. Sometimes I wonder why some photographers out for a photo walk would bring their camera bags with them. The bags attract too much unwanted attention and need to be checked every so often if the zippers are where you left them, whereas a camera can only be in one of two places.. with you or with somebody else. Just keep it around waist level and they’re not that noticeable. Ditch the Canon or Nikon straps and leave the lens cap at home. I will probably share my notes about my experiences with street photography in the Philippines next time.
Recto is not a fancy place, but it probably was during its heyday. This place probably hasn’t changed much over the years. I was planning on taking photos of the diploma industry, but without a safe passage, I decided to walk on by and keep my scalp.
Street food, however, is fair game.
No, thank you, ma’am. I just had dinner a couple of hours ago. My stomach might not agree with what’s on the menu. I still have a long walk home.
This is a better place to loiter on the sidewalk. Brightly lit shops line up this part of Recto, and nearby, a university.
Services offered to students who might have spent the night with friends rather than finishing their school work. I have not given any financial assistance to these researchers when I was in college and I’m proud of it. If one has to pay for their services, better buy a college degree instead and save time with a newly printed diploma.
I walked past my college alma mater – the University of Santo Tomas. Nothing much to be seen at this time of the night, and my knee was already begging for a rest. I stopped for a while at this workshop by the sidewalk.
I didn’t bother Sadam; he might hit his finger with that miniature sledgehammer.
After a five minute break, it’s back to walking.
I stopped short of the railroad track and decided to take a jeepney ride home to Quezon City. It was too dark at the crossing and I didn’t want anybody to take interest in my backpack. (Technically, it is my son’s backpack. I don’t own one.) In it was my shirt for the next day. I was in bad need of a change of clothes around that time.