Saturday, January 24, 2009

dirty...filthy....

After walking on the ground, on cables, on bamboo swings, on elevated seemingly railroad tracks, on knotted rope mesh, I was beat. I didn't anticipate the course to be this physical. I was also sorry to realize that my shoes took some beating. I should have worn a different pair. Despite my aching (and bruised) body, I was still up for some Indonesian dinner, a girl has got to eat and this girl ate!

When asked to hang out at a friend's house after dinner, I didn't have to think about my answer. I quickly answered "Maglalaba pa ako ng rubber shoes ko" (I'm going to wash my rubber shoes).

As I replay the events in my head, I can't help but think that it seemed like an excuse (airhead heroine: I need to wash my hair). For those who once read Sweet Dreams as a kid, they would totally understand (of course Americans never wash their rubber shoes, come to think of it, I think in is a Filipino habit).

(And I did wash my rubber shoes.)

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