There’s something about that avenue that would place it in the list of one of the most fascinating, if not intriguing areas in the country. It is home to almost everything—from fake diplomas to stolen cellular phones, from pirated CDs to extremely cheap second-hand books and magazines.
Recto Avenue is the typical old, crumbling, dilapidated area you would not want to go. It is considered unsafe, polluted, noisy, and literally dirty. The apartments and dorms lined up in that vicinity are all horrible, totally dubious if human beings actually reside in them, or they are just places designated as breeding grounds for rats and cockroaches. At night, around 8 or 9pm, after school hours, if one would be so unfortunate to pass in that area, rats as big as cats happily trudge, as if claiming liberty over human domination. And this is not an exaggeration. I think cats are personally afraid to go in that area, seeing the limited number of felines there.
And of course, Recto would never be complete without the usual scenes about snatchers, pickpockets, and thieves making their so-called living. A passerby would suddenly scream because someone took her bag or cellular phone. Or two persons in an obvious marathon, because one took the belonging of another.
And to make matters worse, the clogged traffic is an everyday experience. Heck, the road is too narrow, the students are too numerous, and the vehicles are just plain reckless. And don’t think of just crossing the street alone, unless you want to experience a painful and quite anti-climactic death due to a vehicular accident. To think the jeepney driver might not be even able to pay for your funeral expenses might even add insult to your death.
It’s even the favorite destination of those who would want to cry outrage against the government. It is the arena for the anti-establishment. And no matter how trite, courageous, or just plain hasty these demonstrations are, this is still the place that they would want to be heard. Problem is, the government officials believe otherwise. But, the fact of the matter is, this is one area that would forever be significant to Philippine history.
But, you may ask (directly or discreetly), why do I love this area? Why not? And I am not throwing the question back, akin to a philosophical ping-pong. Where else could you buy a P30 CD that plays really good songs, which could be uploaded in an iPod? Where else could you surf for P10 per hour, some of them even include promos such as P25 for three hours? Where else, do tell me, could you buy second-hand books that are still in mint condition for only P50? And where else, could you find a Banana-Q for P6; a Japanese corn for only P12; and a full meal (composed of two viands and rice) for only P25? Do tell me where else? Of course, provincial rates do not apply.
Yeah, I do miss the De La Salle neighborhood, with all its high-end restaurants, tall buildings, and maintained environment. But that represents the comfortable lifestyle. If you want to learn something about life, and I mean the nitty-gritty, dirty, or simply, the so-called real world—the ones that you could only see in documentaries; then you ought to go here.
It’s unsafe, polluted, dirty, and horrible. But it teaches a thing or two about life, and definitely, the kind of lesson that would be crucial to one’s survival. Well, just the kind of lesson that you would never learn in the four walls of your mighty academe.
