The sordid side: venturing down ‘Walking Street’

You have to do what’s necessary to survive. Not everyone is born under the best circumstances, has access to education, or even knows of a world outside their own meager existence.

It’s best to keep this in mind as we go into this rather awkward blog post.

I’m in Clark Freeport Zone, the area where the U.S. used to have an Air Force base. It’s pretty nice and most people feel safe.

Just outside of Clark is the city of Angeles, where you have to go to get groceries and find most restaurants. If you’re more curious about the area, go ahead, google “Angeles, Philippines.” Wait, no. Don’t do that if you’re at work. Trust me, it’s definitely NSFW.

Unfortunately, this city is known for Walking Street, a strip actually named Field Street that closes off vehicles in the evenings and provides location after location for people to find “women of the night,” as my mother calls them.

There are normal clubs and bars here, too. If you hear someone say, “I’m going to Walking Street” tonight, it doesn’t necessarily mean they’re paying a fee for sex. t’s also not a place where your personal space will be invaded by nudity or anything. But, there are also establishments offering local women.

Everything about this is awkward and upsetting — walking into this place, thinking back on it, and reporting it back to you. I’m not sure I’ve seen anything more depressing. They’re not strip clubs. These women aren’t Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman or anything remotely close to that picture.

The women, dressed in something like short shorts and a bikini top, simply line up on some stage in the middle or front of the room. All a customer does is pick one out (by walking up or pointing, or getting a laser from a server to point), buy the girl a few drinks, then pay a little more than 2,000 pesos (that’s just more than 40 USD) for something like an “early exit fee,” which you can interpret anyway you wish. Each woman wears a tag, stating their name with a note that they’re “clean.”

I have no idea how these women do it. They’re in their young 20s, and if you talk to them, they’re just like any other girl with similar interests. But if you ask them why they’re here, they’ll tell you they don’t have any other option. Nowhere else to go, no other way to make money, no other way to survive.