The town of my birth. Cotabato City is hot, humid, and dusty. There are no seasons in this place, except for perpetual summer. Mixing with exhaust fumes of tricycles, the air is thick with the intrigues of a small town.

On many hot and lazy afternoons, the neighbors drop by to exchange gossip and pleasantries over some fried bananas and a glass of Coke. The food in Cotabato is delicious. Aside from having the best lechon (roasted pig) and barbecued chicken in the Philippines, it is home to delicacies like suman stuffed with pork, and banana soup.

During the day, people from nearby rural areas flock to the city to buy supplies and do some financial transactions. Not suprisingly, Cotabato has it's fair share of Hardware stores, banks, and pawnshops.

Most shops are closed on Sunday, and all the bustling activity stops on that day, when families go to Church, and friends meet each other to catch up on more gossip. It is the Sundays that linger in my memory when I think about my hometown; hot humid Sunday afternoons, when time seems to stretch out forever.

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