Angel: Women in the Philippines

I remember Angel well. I was walking along a backstreet in Cubao on my way to the Baliwag Transport depot. As I approach it I hear the familiar call: 'Hey Joe!' Usually I just wave my hand and smile but this time it's a girl standing in a doorway across the street. She's pretty, fake blonde, so I cross over. The reaction of teenage Filipinas to an approaching foreigner -- even one they have just saluted -- is too delicious to miss and, as predicted, the girl collapses into hysterical giggles. [ This means that a young man, standing close by, has to introduce himself. 'Hi, I'm Eugene,' he says and I hold out my hand; he could be twenty-five but it's hard to tell. Here, men look younger than their age. 'Hi, I'm Rod,' I reply, shaking his hand. I nod to the girl, who is trying to recover composure. 'Who's she?' I ask. 'That's Ang--' He doesn't get to finish. This girl is not about to be talked over; she has decided to seize the opportunity and is attempting to ho