I don't mean to offend anyone with this post, and when I say that I'm thinking of my mom. But, the culture of cock-fighting is something that I'm definitley happy I embraced (for a full day). Here in the sunny Philippines, cock-fighting is not illeagle, it's welcomed. Some, probably most, communities live by it. In a world where every single peso counts, vendors sell pop, beer and snacks, the community charges an entrance fee (which goes toward the over head of maintaining the arena) and the people are entertained. Super Bowl Sunday, move over. Put down that pack of doritos and get up off your lazy boy. Stuff a few pesos into your pocket, jump on your bike and head over to the local cock-fighting arena for a day full of standing, yelling and waving your hands in the air.
I would also like to add, not every battle results in a death. In most cases, they both live.. one just has a few more injuries than the other. And, while on the earth, these roosters are prized, groomed, brushed and fed better than any cooped up cockatile I've ever seen. First picture left to right: our bids man, the only other white dude at the arena (whom I obviously made friends with) and myelf.. with our prize winning rooster. Note: I'm still not tanned.. mom, you'll be stoked to know I wear sunscreen.
