Very loosely speaking, there are two kinds of sex bars in Angeles City: those for tourists and those for Filipino men. Generally the two sides don’t mix, although here and there you’ll find Filipino bars that welcome foreigners. I never saw the reverse, however. We returned to Fields Avenue with RENEW a few more times, speaking with women and gaining a better insight into their lives.
I was only there for twelve days and would then return to South Korea. Sitting around the kitchen table one night, RENEW’s leader asked me if there was anything else I wanted to see. Without hesitation, and not knowing what I was getting myself into, I said, “A Filipino bar.” The other volunteers agreed, so we made plans to go out the next night.
This bar was in a different part of the city, away from tourists. We went very early, just after they opened, so that we would be the only ones there. Things didn’t really get going until around 11 p.m., by which time we’d have left. RENEW had already visited it and so was familiar with how it operated. As our group of six people pulled up in trikes and got out, my first impression wasn’t great. The building was old and run-down, with a man standing at the door. Inside there was room for about 40 customers with the usual small stage dominating the room. A kitchen and bar were off to the right, with private rooms on the second floor. The sound system was in a tiny room to the right of the stage, and inside we spotted a little girl, five years old, playing with a toy.
Admittedly I was not in the mindset to give the place the benefit of the doubt. Prostitution, voluntary or forced, is just wrong, and so I was hardly objective. But an idiot could have picked up on the evil surrounding us as we found empty seats near the stage. The bar owner came out to get a glimpse of us, probably thinking we were either journalists or missionaries. To keep everyone happy, we ordered french fries and drinks as one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen came out onto the stage and started dancing. She was probably about twenty years old, with long, straight, black hair. She could have been a model. Her lovely face, however, was wooden. Her eyes flickered once towards us and then focused uncompromisingly on the wall behind us. She exited as soon as the music finished and not a moment later and was soon replaced by another dancer, as expressionless as the first.
The music was loud, and so we were able to talk among ourselves without being overheard. RENEW’s leader explained that in the past they had visited here and were unsuccessful in trying to talk to the women. The employees watched them like hawks, and the bar was possibly run by a gang. It did not seem the women had much choice in what they did. From the looks of their eyes, some of them appeared to be on drugs, as well.
We did not stay long. As soon as other customers started arriving, we paid our bill and left. I would never forget the extraordinarily beautiful woman, whose eyes conveyed a life of untold suffering and hopelessness.