Hi Joe, I am Juan
Who's handsome? Definitely, I will be the first to say that I am. This Freudian self-worship may not actually be harmful; it even helps sometimes. If the confirmation, however, comes from others then I am doubly happy, it would resurrect my long dead grandfather from whom I have inherited my not-so-Pinoy looks. I have always been mistaken for someone I am not. In one of the high end restobars in Manila, someone congratulated me for winning a motocross event. I have never driven a motorbike, and someone mistook me for an extreme sports athlete. Cool! I have also been mistaken for a priest, not just once but several times. In one of the posh hotels in Cebu, I got past through the body scan and security check. The security personnel asked, "Father, are you attending the convention?" Yes, I said and I got in without the usual hassles of body frisking. To top, I have so many times been mistaken for a foreigner. It should have been the mixed of genetic grace. I am taller than the usual Juan. I got a patrician nose and I grow a lot of facial hair faster than my scalp. Children thought I am "Hi Joe". My former teacher thought I am one too. Just a while ago, coming from school, as I entered the house a fish vendor shouted, "Isda, Sir." I gestured No with my hands. She must not have seen it and thought I did not understand her at first. She shouted again, "Fish, Sir!" and that made my dreary Saturday all too sunny. I entered the house with a smile on my face.
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