Pomme Terre

Cliff thought for a while and grinned, "There is only one way to find out, isn't it?"

"Roon," Cliff addressed Roon again "Take me to your home and I will buy all the cupcakes here. This is like... say, about 5 USD?"

"Sir? You want to come to my home??" Roon was genuinely surprised, but agreed to lead us to it.

As we navigated the slum areas heading nearer to Roon's house, I clutched Cliff's arm tight. I will never come to such place alone, not that I think any less of the residents, but I feared for my own safety. We crossed some wooden foot bridges that creaked loudly and held by rusty nails, passed many other squatters houses closely situated from one another, where the occupants can pass a bottle of soy sauce to another house via the windows. Many stared curiously at these foreigners.

Roon reached home and spoke with his mother in Tagalog. His mother was visibly surprised and embarrassed that their shabby place had to be opened to visitors. However, the Philippines were really down to earth and friendly. There was nothing much in the house, a living room cum dining area with a simple wired lamp and table fan, no tables apart from some boxes, no chairs. The other section should be a small kitchen and a bedroom. Toilet? You take a dump and everything goes directly down into the water.