Leaving The Gilded Spoon felt like stepping out of a meticulously curated bubble back into the vibrant, uncontrolled reality of Metro Manila – albeit the upscale BGC version. The early afternoon sun was bright, the air warm and thick with the city's hum. Antoine and his staff bowed respectfully as they left, confirming the astronomical bill would be "handled seamlessly" by Mang George. Jun-Jun gave Antoine another P10,000 tip "for the excellent Alpine ice sourcing," leaving the manager momentarily speechless.
"Right," Jun-Jun declared, stretching as they hit the sidewalk. "Walking! Good for the cardiovascular system, I hear." He looked around with genuine curiosity, as if seeing a sidewalk at eye level was a novel experience. "Which way to this 'park' you mentioned, Migs?"
Migs pointed towards the direction of Ayala Avenue. "Ayala Triangle Gardens isn't far. We can cut through there, and it's a relatively straight shot towards your village afterwards." He felt a cautious optimism; maybe, just maybe, they could manage thirty minutes of normalcy.
The initial walk along the wide, clean sidewalks of BGC wasn't too bad. Office workers hurried past, security guards manned building entrances, expensive cars whispered by. Jun-Jun seemed fascinated by the mundane details.
"Look, Migs! A Jollibee!" he exclaimed, pointing at the ubiquitous fast-food outlet. "Remember when we used to save up our allowance for a Jolly Hotdog?"
"I remember you convincing your dad to buy out their entire stock of Peach Mango Pies for your birthday party," Migs corrected dryly.
"Ah, yes! Tactical acquisition!" Jun-Jun chuckled. "Good times." He eyed a nearby construction site for a new skyscraper. "Wonder how much it costs to add a private helipad mid-construction? Might be cheaper than dealing with existing building management..."
"Jun-Jun," Migs warned gently. "Walking. Remember?"
"Right, right. Pedestrianism." Jun-Jun refocused. He seemed to find the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other slightly inefficient. "Couldn't we, you know, hire those e-scooter guys to just... carry us?"
"No, Jun-Jun. We're walking."
They reached the Ayala Triangle Gardens, a welcome oasis of green amidst the concrete and steel of Makati's Central Business District. Tall trees offered shade, fountains provided soothing background noise, and winding paths meandered through well-kept lawns where people were relaxing, jogging, or having lunch breaks.
"Ah, nature!" Jun-Jun declared, taking a deep breath. "Smells less like... pending legal action."
They strolled along one of the paths, the pace slower now, more relaxed. Migs started to feel some of the tension from the past twenty-four hours finally ease. This was nice. Just walking and talking with his best friend, like normal people.
"So," Migs ventured, attempting a safe topic. "Did you see that new superhero movie trailer? Looks pretty good."
"Hmm? Oh, yeah, the one with the guy in the cape?" Jun-Jun replied distractedly. He was watching a vendor pushing a colourful cart, ringing a small bell. "Is that... 'dirty' ice cream?"
"Sorbetes," Migs clarified. "Yes. The kind sold on the street."
"Dirty ice cream!" Jun-Jun's eyes lit up with nostalgic delight. "I haven't had that in ages! Let's get some!" He strode purposefully towards the sorbetero, an elderly man with a weathered face.
"Manong! Pabili po!" (Sir! Can I buy?) Jun-Jun greeted him warmly. "What flavors do you have?"
"Queso, Mangga, Ube po, sir," the old man replied, smiling.
"Excellent! I'll have one scoop of each!" Jun-Jun decided. "And Migs?"
"Just mango for me, thanks," Migs said.
As the sorbetero scooped the ice cream into small cones, Jun-Jun looked at the man's simple cart and worn clothes. "Manong," he asked kindly. "Business okay today?"
The old man sighed. "Medyo matumal po, sir. Mainit masyado." (A bit slow, sir. It's too hot.)
"Right, the heat," Jun-Jun nodded sympathetically. He accepted his three-scoop cone and Migs'. "How much is that?"
"Forty pesos po lahat, sir," the man said.
Jun-Jun reached into his pocket – he rarely carried a wallet, preferring loose bundles or direct access via Mang George – and pulled out a thick roll of P1,000 bills. He peeled off fifty of them. "Here's fifty thousand pesos, Manong," he said, pressing the money into the sorbetero's hand. "Consider it... payment for the ice cream, and maybe take the rest of the day off? Or better yet," Jun-Jun's mind went into overdrive, "use it as a down payment to upgrade your cart! Motorize it! Add solar panels! A built-in refrigeration unit! Maybe GPS tracking!"
The old sorbetero stared at the fifty thousand pesos, his eyes wide with disbelief, tears forming. He looked utterly speechless, unable to comprehend the sudden, overwhelming generosity.
"Jun-Jun!" Migs hissed, pulling him gently away as other park-goers started to notice the exchange. "Subtlety! Normalcy!"
"What? I'm helping a small business owner innovate!" Jun-Jun protested, licking his rapidly melting queso scoop. "He could be the next ice cream tycoon!"
They continued their walk, leaving the stunned sorbetero staring at the cash. Jun-Jun finished his ice cream cone quickly, finding the simple, slightly icy sorbetes incredibly satisfying, perhaps even more so than the artisanal gelato from the night before.
As they neared the edge of the park, closer to the residential area where Jun-Jun lived, a young woman jogged past, then did a double-take, slowing down.
"Oh my gosh! Are you... are you the Pandesal Pimpernel?" she asked breathlessly, holding up her phone. "Can I get a selfie?"
Jun-Jun beamed. "But of course!" He posed cheerfully with the starstruck jogger. "Spreading joy, one carb at a time!"
Several other people nearby overheard and recognized him, pulling out their own phones. Migs groaned inwardly. So much for a low profile. Jun-Jun, however, happily obliged with a few more photos, clearly enjoying the minor fame.
"Okay, okay, celebrity," Migs finally interjected, pulling Jun-Jun away from the small gathering crowd. "Time to go. Before you decide to fund everyone's marathon training."
"Good idea," Jun-Jun said agreeably as they exited the park onto the quieter residential street leading towards his village gate. "Walking was... surprisingly pleasant! Though a bit slow." He looked around. "Still think we could make better time with gold-plated scooters."
Migs just shook his head, a reluctant smile playing on his lips. They were almost back at Jun-Jun's house. They had walked. They hadn't bought any major modes of transport (just funded a tricycle canopy and an ice cream cart upgrade). No one had been arrested. In Jun-Jun's world, that probably qualified as a spectacularly normal afternoon.