Cotabato

"OMG, you're in Cotabato?! Are you okay? Are you safe? Is there shooting in the streets? What about the military?"

Right, I'm writing this in a garden, across the mosque where they are celebrating Eid'l Adha. The veiled women are bowed and kneeling peacefully in the sunny courtyard, having spilled over from the back rows, because, I have been told, around here, men have priority seating in front.

It is a cultural thing, I guess, but these are the things that make it hard for other people to believe we're in the same country. Up north, where I come from, women get seats first, the first three cars of the MTR during rush hour are reserved for females. And no, it's not because the women are considered weak, it's because everyone just scared of 'em. Matriarchal society and all, y'know.

:Pretty much quiet all around, though. There was a bit of noise but that turned out to be from the opening of the new McDonald's. They're taking me to a nearby town celebrating its fiesta. During a fiesta, you are required to eat from all the houses that invite you. It's kind of like trick or treating by invitation, except it's dine-in instead of takeout. (Though some will give you takeout as well.)

I think we'll hit about five houses before we burst. We'll see.