The Best Place for a Summer Vacation

The Best Place For a Summer Vacation
From high up in the air, I could see this was a metropolis, complete with traffic jams, tall buildings and a million people. As soon as the pilot called his crew to prepare for landing, I felt my stomach knot in anticipation. I was nauseous with excitement - what will I discover in this land?
I knew the culture here was really different, but nothing prepared me for the experience I will have, which began as soon as we deplaned. I disembarked the plane and was faced with the million people all talking at the same time. Here was a lady wearing a white blouse over denim pants, currently talking on the phone reporting her arrival. Behind her were an elderly couple, one a timid lady, her eyes sparkling with happiness, the other, her husband carrying their baggage with sturdy arms, possibly a result of years doing manual labor. Beside me was a mother with a six-month old baby, her face red from crying her heart out; behind me are the other passengers of the plane, all bent on being the first to get to the arrival bay. The scene was even worse outside of the airport. Dilapidated public transport plied the roads, the roads littered with mud and garbage, the train station full to the brim with people. My head was reeling from all the noise; my leg ached, my body sore. I was beginning to see why Dan Brown called this place as "the gates of hell". I had to stay here in Manila for a week while I thought about where to go next.
Needless to say, I had a daily encounter with the million people in the city, and I was beginning to lose my patience. I was in one of the local parks and was starting to become overwhelmed with the hustle and bustle of the city. Anger was starting to build up, and I was beginning to chastise myself for choosing to go to the Philippines when I could go in Europe. Just as my anger was about to blow to the surface, I was interrupted by a wonderful smell wafting in the air. It was both sweet and bitter; it made my mouth water, and my scowl transformed into an upturned smile. It held on to me, like a tendril of a vine, making its way to my brain, removing all thoughts of pain and irritation, replacing it with happy memories of the past and the future. "Perhaps this is how heaven smells like". I let my nose lead me to the heavenly smell and discover a small cart by the fountain. The vendor wore a simple white shirt and knee-length denim. On his head was a straw hat that protected him from the heat. He was busy creating a batch of what the locals called "batirol" which refers to the swishing action used to bring out the foam in the concoctions. It looked a lot like our very own cappuccino, except that batirol was made of pure cacao, butter, coco sugar and a bit of milk. It was this batirol that brought me to the southern part of the country. I left the very next day, and headed for Davao, where the best cacao were produced.
As soon as I arrived in Davao, I knew something was different here. The arrival bay was jam packed with people, but there was a kind of silence lulling me to relax - my shoulders turned down, my lungs longed to take in the fresh air. I took one deep breath and the air making its way to my lungs, and then down to my hands and feet. "I am alive", I found myself saying....