The Philippines that I know is different from other Filipinos'. It is the Japanized version, a part of Nippon. It is "Firipin." My Firipin stretches from the time that I was in jungle-surrounded Ferry in Batangas, to the Del Monte balloon-vine apartment in Quezon City, to the Martianesque red fields near my house overlooking a cliff in Don José Heights in Quezon City, to suburban Steele Court on Lulu Island, to suburban Rideau Drive on Lulu Island, to the candy temple lights of Tokyo, to the Italo-Chinese old picturesque neighbourhood of Lakewood Drive in Vancouver.
In any case, I cherish also the thought of an alternative-history Philippines in which Spanish ways would continue to enlighten the natives. Spanish and indigenous languages would fill the streets with musical joy. Yes, it would be Latin Asia. Young ladies would adorn themselves with María Clara gowns and young men with the Barong Tagalog.
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