We met a Filipino-Swiss dude in Armenia. He asked us, “Guys, you are Filipinos, right?”
“How did you know?” I asked, “We’re too happy, right?”
“No, my mom is Filipino. I understand but cannot speak.”
“You don’t look Filipino,” I told him, “I’m sorry.” I added sarcastically.
“Where do you live?” Atong stepped in in the conversation
“Georgia. I study in Tblisi, he answered, “Why didn’t you go to Rome or Paris?”
“This trip was supposed to be UK but we had a problem with the visa,” Atong bravely answered in English.
“What happened to your visa?” Michael, the FilSwiss, asked.
“Um… umm… I forgot,” Atong stuttered, “What happened to our visa,” he asked Mitch and me.
“I dunno,” I didn’t wanna explain.