this is a rant / this is a rave

Okay.

I was just in the worst traffic jam ever.


I just got home. A bus ride from Alabang to Batangas which usually takes 1 1/2 hours on a good day stretched to what seemed like infinity. I left Alabang at a little before 3 PM yesterday and arrived at Batangas at 2:40 AM today. My butt is numb from sitting in the bus for 11 hours and 43 minutes.

Contrary to what most people might think, the bus was not filled with impatient and grumbling passengers. I surprised even myself by not complaining. We were at a standstill most of the time, what use was complaining going to do anyway. It was just going to be a waste of energy.

I got some sleep on the bus. Most passengers did. Some ate their dinner and snacks on board. We listened to 80's music (mostly classic rock and pop), watched the news about PGMA's SONA, watched Pirates of the Caribbean (the first movie followed by the sequel) and was already half-way through the Curse of the Black Pearl when the DVD player just stalled. We then watched another film version of Tomb Raider 1 and 1/2 times (not the one with Angelina Jolie and with really bad acting). In between all these I was reading Haruki Murakami's Dance Dance Dance and would've finished the book if the bus lights weren't switched off late in the night.

I'm not feeling too tired right now, which is quite unfortunate as I can't get myself to fall asleep. I keep thinking about alternate travel experiences. If I was going the opposite direction I would've reached Ilocos Norte by then. On a different day I would've reached Bicol already. If I was on a boat instead I would've already reached Romblon. If I was in Cebu, I would've been in Camiguin already. If I was going to work, I would've already gone back and forth to Mindoro twice.

For most part of the bus ride, this was my view out the window. Not exactly a view to die for, but I'm really not complaining.


In truth, I will probably remember this as the shortest 12-hour trip I've ever had. In truth, this will probably be the best "worst traffic jam" I'll ever be in.

Going down the bus at the end of Diversion Road in Batangas I couldn't help but smile when the passengers thanked the driver and the conductor for a safe trip. We all laughed when one passenger quipped "sulit ang bayad". Truly, the bus fare we paid was all worth it.

manila traffic

I will never get used to Metro Manila's traffic jams.

It took me 2 1/2 hours to commute from Quezon City to Bicutan tonight. It was not even raining hard and the bus I was on took the Skyway already. Two and a half hours - about the same amount of time it takes a mid-day bus to get from QC to Batangas.

I don't mind long bus rides if I'm traveling long distances. But to sit for hours in a bus that barely moves along EDSA is torture for me. I feel fortunate that I do not have to endure this torture everyday like the thousands of Metro Manila commuters.

After my 2 1/2 hour bus ride, standing in the rain waiting for yet another ride

Sitting sadly in the bus tonight I was reminded of what one tour guide said about Metro Manila traffic. We were in Hongkong that time on a city tour and Mr. Lee, our guide, was explaining that we might be a little late getting to our next destination on account of the rush hour traffic. I remember smiling and looking out the window as cars zipped past at 35 kph. That was rush hour traffic - cars just moving a little slower than the usual 80 kph.



Mr. Lee was right to say that Hongkong's traffic system is a little better than Manila's. He loved visiting the Philippines for vacations but had to shake his head at the Metro Manila traffic where you can sit in a bus, have a two-hour nap and not be afraid of missing your stop. When you wake up from the nap you're probably still in the same place anyway.


Even Lonely Planet's Tony Wheeler agrees that Manila's traffic jams are to be reckoned even beating out Bangkok. Although he does add that Shanghai still wins for the worst traffic jams (Tony Wheeler's World Worsts in The Titanic Awards).


I suppose there are still a couple of good things about traffic jams. I can attribute my love for walking to traffic since at times walking takes me to my destination faster than taking a jeepney. On occasions that I do need to take a jeepney the hour-long commutes present an opportunity for me to catch up on my reading. And of course, stuck in traffic one learns to appreciate the empty spaces and open roads of a provincial setting.

tricycle

Sabi ng driver: Forty pesos na po ang tricyle papuntang Don Ramos.

Sabi ko: Sige, maglalakad na lang ako.

snapshot

Picture this:

I am in a bus one Sunday afternoon.

The dashboard is decked in bright green Hello Kitty curtains and the windows are shaded by grimy red ones.

I keep wondering if I look scary or at least intimidating because the man sitting beside me sits half a feet away. He must be a painter of sorts judging by the look of his paint-splotched jeans. I can hear him singing. REM is playing on the bus’ radio and he looks the other way as he sings Everybody Hurts.

I keep reading Paul Neilan’s Apathy and Other Small Victories. Shane, the novel’s protagonist, thinks people are like punchlines. I look up from reading and think this bus is a joke.


It starts raining when we get to Turbina. I take a picture through the bus window as we pass the station. Rain on a sunny mid-afternoon - it's there one minute, the next minute it's gone. I am reminded of people as punchlines as the bus squeaks tiredly along.

walking the backpack

My backpack has been sitting forlornly on the floor. Relatively new at three months old it has been to and from Batangas, gone around Metro Manila, spent a few days at Cebu, got covered in white sand in Bohol and jostled around by Chinese in Hong Kong. But in the last couple of weeks it has only seen the inside of my apartment. Today I decided to take it out for a short walk.

I was on my way to UP Village again. I was broke and was planning to consign a few books to sell at a bookshop there. Walking the backpack came in handy as the books fit snugly inside. Late in the afternoon children were already out in the street playing.


There were toys strewn all over the road in front of a pre-school at Matahimik.


A few steps away a paper cup lay on the gravel. I pondered over whether it was some adult's litter or some little kid's toy.



Walking along I myself felt like a kid curious to learn why someone smashed a hole in the wall


A block away I silently praised the paint job that gave the gates' texture . . .


. . . and wondered why I had never heard mass at Immaculate Heart of Mary Parish Church


I marveled at the fresh bright greens at Mahusay . . .


. . . and ended up at the bookshop where a group of artists where having a forum.


After perusing the new titles I went home happy carrying a 1948 edition of The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri, translated by Lawrence Grant White, with engravings by Gustave Dore.

Still a productive afternoon, I'd say.

trip to cubao

Three years after - different apartment, different occupation, different music, different books - Cubao is still the same for me.



October 19, 2005/ Sa Overpass

It has been alternating days of waking up late at ten in the morning or waking up early at six. Aside from the waking hour there really isn’t much difference between the two. I still make myself a cup of coffee as soon as I wake up, check my email and afterwards decide what book to read. I’m usually too lazy to go out so I don’t move from my seat until after twelve when I fix something for lunch and wolf it all down in five minutes. I have another cup of coffee after that and resume reading. I swear, if I were man I would be a terrible, terrible slob. As it is, I’m already on the way to getting there.

The other day I managed to get myself out of bed early, take a shower and get out of my apartment before noon. I found myself at Cubao after an uneventful ride on a bus that smelled faintly of mangga and bagoong. I’ve never crossed the overpass near Farmer’s market in the day before. Usually it would be at around 8 or 9 in the evening when I find myself crossing EDSA, waiting to have dinner with a friend. Why Cubao for a dinner date? Simply because it was the most convenient, just a single bus ride both ways.

Late in the afternoon, holed up in one corner of Mister Donut having a cup of coffee and pretending to read a book, I watched as the pedestrian traffic traversing the mall increased. Here were all the men and women going home from their day job, getting off the MRT, crossing the mall to get a ride somewhere else. I watched for hours as all these beautiful people go through the rituals of daily living. I think to myself, aside from the people minding their stores around the area, no one really stays at Cubao for long during the day. But between 5 and 8 pm Cubao seems to be teeming with life. It appears to be at the heart of everything until one realizes that it serves as nothing but an unremarkable stop on the way to one’s destination. Just like an airport. An airport is never really a destination in itself, it is just a means to get to one. I think to myself: if I was here earlier there would be an entirely different set of people passing through.

And I watch as the people shuffle tiredly along.

Listening to: Wine, Women and Song (Harvey Danger)
Reading: The Tesseract (Alex Garland)