I ENJOY that daily brisk walking from the jeepney stop to the office. The crisp morning coldness against my face as I race with other commuters along Session Road is a definite way to prep for the day's activities. But once I get to the part where I turn another block, I suddenly get disheartened by the sight of "Nina" (first name that came to mind when I saw her). She stays sprawled and crying at this intersection going to General Luna Road.
I used to see her at the overpass at Magsaysay Road, dressed in her usual garb of tattered black jacket and slacks, barefoot, as she wails with that heart-wrenching cry while extending her cupped hands to passersby.
How many "Ninas" are there in the City of Baguio? The influx of tourists to the City has also resulted to the increased entry of vagrants and mendicants. There are the musicians who drone their soulful songs, the pitiable ones who simply reach up with their plastic cups, the kind who wanders around and tugs at the clothes of everyone who happens to pass by, and even children who innocently ask for "barya".
I used to see her at the overpass at Magsaysay Road, dressed in her usual garb of tattered black jacket and slacks, barefoot, as she wails with that heart-wrenching cry while extending her cupped hands to passersby.
How many "Ninas" are there in the City of Baguio? The influx of tourists to the City has also resulted to the increased entry of vagrants and mendicants. There are the musicians who drone their soulful songs, the pitiable ones who simply reach up with their plastic cups, the kind who wanders around and tugs at the clothes of everyone who happens to pass by, and even children who innocently ask for "barya".