bus ride adventures

Altercations

2008-02-28T13:00:00.003+08:00

Commuting at 11 in the evening by bus should otherwise be a very relaxing experience. It’s the hour I think: 11 AM means that everyone on the bus is just plain tired and everyone just wants to go home as peacefully as possible. But sometimes this is not the case. There are those who think that ending the day with a bus fight is a good idea. And so:

I’m seated by the window on the three seater bench of the bus. A “higher-than-medium-but-smaller-than-big” girl sits by my side. Everything goes well as we leave the Ayala-Edsa terminal. By the time we reach the Mantrade stop, this “slightly-bigger-than-small” dude with his girlfriend rides the bus. The bus is moving and so they both try to sit down as fast as they can. The smallish dude sits in between me and the biggish girl, and as he does, he accidentally hits Xena the overweight warrior princess.

All hell breaks loose:

Xena: “Ano ba, mag ingat ka nga!!!”

Small Dude: (Keeps quiet and sits. He crosses his arms to feign defiance)

Xena: (in retaliation, she too crosses her arms)

Both try to take up as much space possible:

Xena: ”Bat mo ba ako sinisiksik!!!”

Small Dude: ”Eh ikaw tong naniniksik eh!”

Xena: ”Anong ako, e pagupo mo pa lang sinsiksik mo na ako eh!!!”

The inevitable comment comes:

Small Dude: ”Eh pano ang laki mo!”

Xena: ”At least nakakakain ako ng tama! Eh ikaw?”

They exchange rude comments for at least 2 minutes more. Then the conductor arrives to pacify the air. Note that the conductor is a small, pale, tough looking girl with short hair. Yes, the human mix of the situation is turning things into a comedic affair. The conductor convinces the small dude to just transfer seats. He passes by Xena and both get physical is a funny, sissy way. I’m sorry people; I just can’t describe what a “funny and sissy” physical exchange looks like. Just imagine a very big, fat person thumb wrestling with a midget and the prize of winning will be a million pesos. There you go.

Anyway: soon peace returns to the galaxy and the usual boringness of commuting begins to settle in the air. When we get to Alabang, the small dude goes down and as he walks down the aisle, he intentionally hits seated Xena in the head with his bag.

I saw everything happen. Xena just watched in hatred. I could feel her seething.

I too had to go down and I do so with the outmost care: I wouldn’t want to start another altercation and I’m dead sure that the conductor wouldn’t be able to save my ass if and when Xena goes bat shit crazy.

Oh well.

…

curiosity killed the cat: www.savetube.com

Holy Pomelo!

2008-01-16T10:18:00.000+08:00

… I needed somewhere to hang my head
Without your noose
You gave me something that I didn’t have
But had no use
I was too weak to give in
Too strong to lose
My heart is under arrest again
But I break loose
My head is giving me life or death
But I can’t choose
I swear I’ll never give in
No, I refuse…

Song: The Best of You
Album: In Your Honor (track 1)
Artist: The Foo Fighters

This was the song that played on my MP3 player when the funny incident happened. As the bus ascended the octopus flyover of Mantrade-Magallanes, out of the lower corner of my eye I saw: a pale yellow Pomelo rolling under the seats near the center aisle. My first thought was: holy pomelo. Then, a lady came walking up the bus. She was the owner of the runaway fruit and as she walked, I saw the brightest smiles from my fellow passengers. Everyone who knew was thinking:

“Heee, yung Pomelo, gumulong”

Thank god for round fruits and inclined plane physics. They sometimes make commuting such a joy.

The escaped fruit was recaptured by its owner who promptly incarcerated the restless citrus in a plastic bag. To this day, nothing is known of its fate but your guess is as good as mine. I close this post with a short phrase that I’ll remember when I feel sad:

“Heee, yung Pomelo, gumulong”

…

curiosity killed the cat: www.time.com/time/2007/crimes

Delays

2008-01-08T12:48:00.000+08:00

Life is full of delays and the only way for anyone to come out happy from one is to just see it as an inevitable part of being alive. The events below happened last November 2007; it just took me a while to publish:

The bus accelerated towards the first northbound toll gate of Sky Way and as it did, the nauseating smell of burnt rubber assaulted our nostrils. Were doomed, I thought. I knew in my head that we would get stalled the moment the bus decelerated. And true enough, it did. But I was in denial. I didn’t alight immediately. I told my sister to wait. The conductor might fix the dead bus and we’d all be on our way:

We wait 2 minutes. A few passengers pass our way and get down.

5 minutes. More passengers go.

8 minutes: we all go down. Screw it.

I had a meeting that day, and I was already late at the time. My sister was with me because I needed to get money from the bank for her tuition. There is no fighting this. We go to the bus conductor to get a refund. People swarm around
him waiting for the return of their fare, an old dude with his kid acted like an ass. I join the fray. After getting my cash, my sister and I ride the first bus that rumbles along. Soon we reach Makati. By this time, I was already resigned to being late for my meeting, so no rush. I went up to the office with my sister in tow and we went down and walked straight to the bank to get some cash. We meet a taho vendor along the way. I ask my sister if she wants a cup and she says yes. I get one too. The taho was really warm and I could feel it go down to my stomach. Life is good.

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curiosity killed the cat: www.tellmewhyfacts.blogspot.com

eavesdropped: spelling bee

2007-12-03T13:17:00.000+08:00

A grade school kid and her somewhat gay male nanny were reviewing for a spelling bee. Everyone on the bus could hear them. Only funny things can ever come out of this:

Gay Male Nanny: “Courageous”

Kid: “C-o-u-r-a-g-e-o-u-s”

Gay Male Nanny: “Gourmet”

Kid: “G-o-u-r-m-e-t”

Gay Male Nanny: “Aisle”

Kid: “A-i-s-l-e”

Gay Male Nanny: “Queet”

Kid: (puzzled) “Queet?”

Gay Male Nanny: “Ay, quiet pala… ay hindi, quite. Quite.”

Kid: “Q-u-i-t-e”

I try as hard as I can to keep a straight face. No go. I laugh through my nose in short bursts. That day I was late for work. But it’s ok. I didn’t mind.

…

curiosity killed the cat: www.howitshouldhaveended.com

BabyBus

2007-11-05T08:06:00.000+08:00

Yup, you read it right: baby bus.

Its the term everyone uses for the small busses that ply the Manila to Cavite City route and get this: back in college, we called the drivers of the baby bus the “cowboys from hell” and sometimes, in extreme cases, we called the baby bus: torpedoes. Imagine why.

Background: Last week, I was invited to the debut of the kid sister of my best pal in college. Initially, I thought: “dude, I’m a bit too old for that”, but then something pushed me to go. I’m already 30 and believe it or not, last week was the first time I have every gotten to attend a debut. And so I went, had fun, did a short dance with the debutante, and got drunk in one of the back alleys of Cavite City. Aye, fun times. Fun times indeed (Nert, Drei, thanks for the booze).

And mind you, last week too, after a long time, I got to ride a baby bus. It was fun:

No Conductor – you get on, you travel at break neck speeds, and you get off by pressing one of the many “stop buttons” found inside the bus. But before getting down, you go to the bus driver and hand him your fare. If you have change, then just mention the place where you got on.

Windy – Yup. Windy. You close the baby bus’ windows using thin planks of wood that you pull up to hang by the window sill. You only use them when it is raining (using it on a sunny day looks funny and you will get some odd stares from your fellow passengers). And so, no matter what, you will encounter close to storm level winds. Its fun if you don’t have long hair.

Light Show – If you’re lucky, get a ride on a baby bus at night or at dusk and you’ll be treated to a fantastic light show on the ceiling area on top of the driver. I cannot describe how you can get hours and hours of fun from just staring at the light show, you just really need to see it to believe!

Ok. In the future, if you do get to ride one of them crazy torpedoes driven by a cowboy from hell, then just . You’ll be where you want to be in no time!

…

curiosity killed the cat: www.dilbertblog.typepad.com

Resolution

2007-10-22T12:07:00.001+08:00

So many months ago, I rode a bus at Cubao with Alabang as the destination. I saw the conductor and settled my fare, all P45.00, and I proceeded to sit comfortably in the air conditioned safety of the bus. Then, an opportunity presented itself: some guy vacated a prime spot and so I stood up and occupied his chair. Minutes later I realize the magnitude of my mistake.

My bus tickets were gone.

My bus tickets were gone, five minutes into the 2 hour trip and I had lost my tickets. I tried thinking of my options:

Plan A: look bad ass and hope that the conductor doesn’t ask me about my tickets
Plan B: tell the conductor that I lost my tickets
Plan C: go down and ride another bus

I am so lame. I chose Plan C because I know I can never pull off A and B. So I go down in Star Mall in Mandaluyong. I ride another aircon bus and I curse myself for being a wuss.

Then, yesterday, a variation happened:

The conductor gets my fare, he gives me tickets but before he gets to give me change he leaves and goes back to the drivers side to hand him toll money. The conductor goes back to me and asks: “My ticket ka na?”. I say yes, and then he leaves.

I’m thinking, what about my change?

So I say to myself, ill just bug the dude when he walks back to the driver after collecting everyone’s fare at the back of the bus.

In minutes, he walks back and I try to catch him but he just walks so fast so damn.

So I say to myself, ill just ask for my change when I go down the bus. 30 minutes later, here we go.

Humbly: “Bossing, wala pa ako sukli.”

Irately: ”Saan ka ba nakaupo?”

Humbly: ”Doon sa may gitna.”

Irately: “Patingin ng ticket mo.”

I hand him my tickets. I’m getting nervous.

Irately: “san ka galling?”

Humbly: “Ayala. 100 yung pera ko.”

Irately: “O bakit P30 yung ticket mo!?”

Irately: “Aba ewan, ikaw nagbigay sakin nyan eh. P29 lang dapat!?”

The conductor hands me my change. From a hundred, I should’ve gotten P71.00, instead I get P70.00. Screw it, he can have the rest of my change, all 100 centavos of it!

My precocious New Years resolution for 2008: always pay exact fare in the bus.

…

curiosity killed the cat: www.twink.net

eavesdropped: siksikan blues

2007-09-25T12:48:00.000+08:00

It’s a typical morning on the bus. Then a fight behind me ensues.

Middle Aged Lady: (Sarcastically) Mama, gusto mong magpalit tayo ng upuan?

Middle Aged Dude: Ano po?

Middle Aged Lady: Eh kanina mo pa ako sinisiksik. Wala na ngang upuan sa dulo sinisiksik mo pa ako!

Middle Aged Dude: Ay pasensya na po.

(Angry exchange)

Middle Aged Lady: Eh sa kanina ko pa sinasabi na wag ka nang maniksik sinisiksik mo pa ako.

Middle Aged Dude: Ale, kung ayaw nyo po masiksik, e di mag-taxi na lang po kayo.

Middle Aged Lady: Sinabi ko na ngang wag mo akong siksikin dahil wala ng upuan sa dulo sinisiksik mo pa ako.

Middle Aged Dude: Ale, kung ayaw mong masiksik e di sana nag-taxi ka na lang!

Bold: same conversation structure repeats for two more times until:

Middle Aged Lady: Bakit mo ba ako pinagtataxi, kung may pera ako e di nag-taxi na lang ako!

Middle Ages Dude: E sa ayaw mo masiksik eh!

Truth be told, the middle aged dude had nothing to do with the lady feeling pushed to the side. They were sitting at the end bench of the bus which accommodates 6 people. With each new person who will sit, everyone on his/her side will move away from the center, thus the appearance of the middle aged guy pushing the middle aged lady to the side.

The two decide to shut up, much to my relief. I’m never good with people fighting around me. I get stressed and I don’t really know why. We reach Mantrade and the two warring middle aged folks decide to alight. And again, everything reverts back to a typical morning on the bus. Yeah.

…

curiosity killed the cat: www.howstuffworks.com

Grooveductor

2007-09-13T13:20:00.000+08:00

This mornings conductor was by far the grooviest of them all (see picture). He wore a bonnet and underneath the bonnet were strands of fake, curly hair. He must’ve been bored but then hey: whatever works.

After getting everyone’s bus fare, he went back to the front of the bus. On the TV was Rod Stewart belting out a love song in his usual rough, raspy voice. The conductor reached over the head of the bus driver and he increased the volume, then he made a one second glance at all his passengers. It is after all his bus. rock n roll.

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curiosity killed the cat: www.lostamerica.com

Otherwise

2007-08-21T19:03:00.000+08:00

It was an otherwise boring day: The rain, miserably touching everyone’s lives, the usual multi tributary line to the bus door at Metropolis, Alabang with the usual suspects going to work. Then the otherwise boring day shifted. As we approached the Pasay Road - Edsa junction, an old man asked the bus driver to open the door. The driver complied and from the dry, relative safety of my window seat I saw why. The old man urinated at the bus tire, under the rain, in the middle of the road, in plain view of everyone who cared to look. He had about 30 seconds before the traffic light turns green and with luck, he made it back in the bus just in the nick of time.

You’d think you’ve seen it all: bus breakups (live and on mobile), bus break downs, irate passenger/s and/or bus driver/conductor, the small lady preacher that I always chance upon, the fat lady who pays for the empty seat on her side so that her stuff can sit down while others stand up. You’d think you’ve seen it all.

Then three days later, another old man breaks the monotony: he stood by the bus aisle and as chivalry would dictate, a young dude offers him a seat. The old man berates the well meaning kid saying in a loud tone, “I can stand for ten hours no problem!”

As the trip pressed on, the old man would mutter loudly to himself:

“Mas masarap tumayo, mas nakikita ko yung tanawin sa labas!”

(The song “Bebot” by Pinoy-Black Eyed Peas sensation apl.de.ap plays on the bus radio)

“Pinoy Pinay Balot!”

(The song hits the part where the word “Pilipinas” is said over and over)

“Pilipinas, korap (corrupt) naman ang gobyerno! Puro korap! Puro korap!”

Nobody minds the old man because everyone knows that the best way to stay clear of a crackpot is to apply apathy. The old man goes down on Mantrade, and a stranger talks to a stranger:

“Kumunista ata yun?”

“Hinde, rami lang syang frustrations sa buhay.”

There’s just too much judgment in this world, but it’s ok. It would have been an otherwise uneventful trip, and I can’t wait to see the next thing that tops the crazy rantings of the angry old man that I saw, heard and appreciated this morning.

…

curiosity killed the cat: www.discovermagazine.com/columns/20-things-you-didnt-know

Cake

2007-08-01T09:31:00.001+08:00

Its one of the best things you could ever see on the bus: a fellow commuter with a box of cake. Last night, I happened to sit beside one. Our bus seat was directly above the back tires of the bus, so my bus mate had her knees elevated and upon her knees she rested the two corners of the cake box with her two hands supporting the remaining two sides of the box. This balancing act ran from the start of the trip to its end. She had to keep her cake horizontally stable so as not to ruin the side icing. I moved a bit and hit her cake with my elbow, and she tilted her head and she gave my arm the evil eye of Sauron.

Remember this and remember it well: Never mess with a commuter who carries a box of cake. The mission to bring home something that bears so much happiness is worth achieving at all costs. And so I kept still, and I didn’t mind because after all, I didn’t want to mess with the girl.

Later that night, I tried to raise a mental image of something that I have almost buried at the back of my head: Its one of the best things that I have ever seen in my life. He was a carpenter, and by his foot was a bag, and in the bag were the implements of his trade: a worn saw with a PVC pipe teeth guard, a hammer, nylon string, inside the bag I imagined I’d see nails and a steel L-ruler, perhaps a pair of electrician’s pliers. The carpenter wore a white shirt that humbly proclaimed his modest life. His face and body was burned to a dark tan: but then this is no surprise because what carpenter wouldn’t have skin in any other hue? His veins bulged and if you look, you could easily count how many snaked his hand. And on the carpenters nose rested a pair of worn pair of glasses, and the eyes behind them looked forward to the bus destination because on his lap a box rested: it was bright yellow and it looked really new and shiny and on top of the box were five small candles that were hastily taped on the surface, and inside the box was a cake and on the cake, written in cursive script using blue cake frosting were the words Happy Birthday.

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curiosity killed the cat: www.chucknorris.com

Happy

2007-07-16T18:30:00.000+08:00

He was probably the happiest old man that I have ever seen. He went up the bus, walked the center aisle, and as he moved, he smiled heartily at every passenger. What broke my heart was that I knew that none smiled back and so I wished that the old man would look at me so that I could return his happiness but no go. He never saw me; and so he sat and rested his tired body, his worn sando and shorts, and worn socks that peeled at his ankles, and worn shoes that had a gaping hole by its side, and his worn bag, he rested it by his pencil thighs.

I said to myself: some days I just fucking hate my fellow bus riders.

…

curiosity killed the cat: www.boompa.com

Destinations

2007-06-06T12:36:00.001+08:00

There’s this veterinary clinic in the south that, with out fail, draws a smile on my face every time is see its signage:

“Animal Doctors”

Really, it should’ve been named “Doctors for Animals”. At “Animal Doctors”, you’d imagine a dog/cat/horse/goat/parrot with a stethoscope hugging its neck: “Arf! Arf! Your human has diarrhea!”

Anyway, with this line of thinking, I present the “10 Most Curious Bus Destinations of Metro Manila”

Commonwealth – Communism was born here.

Moonwalk – Found in the south, along the Alabang-Zapote road. There are 3 rumors that can be attributed to the name of Moonwalk: the first is related to Michael Jackson and the second is related to Neil Armstrong. The third rumor is this: the roads of Moonwalk have so many small potholes (craters) that they called the place Moonwalk. But then in the end, you just need to mention the name and think of Michael Jackson and snicker. Moonwalk. Heee.

FairView – A destination that’s not ugly, nor beautiful; It’s just plain “fair”.

Kamias – A bus destination made famous by the great late Ernie Baron. But this aint the reason why Kamias is a funny name for a place. It’s funny because the word Kamias sounds funny. Heee. My apologies to those who live in Kamias.

Other places that fall under the funny sounding name category are: Sampaloc and Santolan.

Mantrade – Every gay mans dream destination. MANtrade.

Kalayaan – “Paano ba mag commute papuntang Kalayaan?” Enough said.

The Projects – Found in the north, we have Projects 2, 3, 4, 6, 7 and 8. I really don’t know what happened to Projects 1 and 5. Some say Project 1 in Quezon City is really just Kamuning. There are rumors that a mythical Project 9 and 10 exists (the former is supposed to exist somewhere east of the metro, the latter in Antipolo). Anyway, I consider The Projects to be the height of the government’s lack of imagination; they could’ve thought of another name like FairView or Kamias, but instead they just settled for “The Projects”.

Estrella – Spanish for “star”; a bus ride that takes you to a star. It kinda makes you smile doesn’t it?

Kabihasnan – I know what you’re thinking: There’s a place in Metro Manila named Kabihasnan!? Yes. There is. Kabihasnan is the English word for “civilization” and it’s also a major bus destination in Parañaque. When people in the north hear about the place they laugh for the same reason I laugh at Kamias, Sampaloc and Santolan. Its just plain funny: “Hoy, sanka pupunta?” / “Sa Kabihasnan.” Heee!

Cubao Ibabaw / Ilalim – It’s a distinctly Pinoy habit of naming places after the stuff you’d see there or after the direction of the destination. Cubao Ibabaw and Cubao Ilalim are classic examples of this. We also have “Welcome Rotonda” and the ever popular “Munumento”. Thank god comfort rooms aren’t located in major thoroughfares or we’d get "Welcome Kubeta" or "Kubeta Ilalim".

Ok. I’m so sure that there are a lot more curious destinations that can be included in this list, given the many bus routes and the number of obscure corners around Metro Manila. And given all this, I really wouldn’t mind living in Estrella.

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curiosity killed the cat: www.askaninja.com

Food

2007-05-18T12:47:00.000+08:00

Its pure torment I tell you. I ride the bus and I’m dead hungry and the couple by my side decides to eat dinner. They open up a bag of McDonalds take out and in seconds I get a whiff of warm cheeseburger up my nose. Oh well, at least I have the peanut vendor to look forward to; or if I feel that I need some excitement, I can opt for the cashew vendor. Sheeesh. It’s a far cry versus the filling goodness of a Mickey D cheeseburger but then hey, we settle for what we can get.

And so they eat. Fries and a regular coke enter the fray. The couple, curse them, takes a full 15 minutes to finish their meal. Like I said, its pure torment. And so I blog the next best thing: “Why do people love eating inside busses?”

1. It Saves Time. The McDonalds munching couple could’ve spent 15 minutes eating in the resto, but they saved this much time eating in the bus. By the time they finished their meal, we were one third closer to their destination.

2. Boredom. It’s a cantrip line form all the peanut vendors I’ve encountered on the bus: “kain na ng mani, panglibang sa byahe”. I ask myself how on earth will I get entertained from eating peanuts. But then thinking back, I can honestly say that it works. Why just sit on the bus as you wait to get to where you are going to. Why not eat along the way and maybe have some fun chewing.

3. The Options Are Endless. I once saw a guy eat Siomai while riding the bus. He set it up like a pro. From the kalamansi pinching to the soy sauce bathing of the Siomai to the chili oil application; he ate with as much ease as you could muster when eating in a real resto. Bottom line: you can eat anything and everything imaginable on the bus. I will not be surprised if one day I see a guy eating his packed lunch as the bus rages to 120 KPH on the highway.

Admit it or not, if you’re a commuter, you have in one instance or another, eaten while riding the bus; may it be a fruit, a fast food item or some baked goodie from a family member. We are all guilty and I guess the only problem that can really come out of this is this: “Sana ako din may burger and fries.”

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curiosity killed the cat: www.sound101.org

Liar

2007-05-11T12:32:00.000+08:00

7.30a / Alabang Bus Terminal / 5 minutes into the trip to the North via the South Luzon Expressway

Overheard mobile phone conversation: “Boss, natraffic lang ako ng konti, pero malapit na ako sa Mantrade. Parating nako.”

Liar. We haven’t reached the Sucat interchange yet and by my estimates, were about 45 minutes away from Mantrade with the traffic and all. This isn’t the first time I’ve overheard a phone conversation on a bus that involved a lie between where one should be versus where one really is. By the time the lying man reaches his boss, he will lie again: “Pasensya na boss, natraffic lang talaga ako sa may tollgate ng Nichols.”

Its just so easy to pull off.

…

curiosity killed the cat: www.dailynk.com/english

Drip

2007-04-04T12:54:00.000+08:00

Drip torture definition from Wikipedia:

“… the torture results from the slow rate of water dripping on the victims forehead. The victim can almost predict when the next drop will fall, and a sense of tension builds up. When the drop finally does fall, a sense of shock and relief follows, only to be replaced with more tension about the next drop. The release of tension (no matter how small it is) prevents the victim from withdrawing inside himself. Drip torture does not require interaction on the part of the torturer, it can be done continuously.”

This morning, while riding the bus, I became the subject of drip torture. There was an overly big aircon duct above me which dripped condensed water to my head. This morning’s trip to work was probably the worst bus ride I have ever experienced. Below is a summary:

1. The timing of the drip had no pattern. It wasn’t “one drop to the head every 3 minutes”. It was X drop/s every X minutes. See Drip Torture definition above for why this sucks.

2. Apathy. I informed the conductor about the problem. He pretended to think about it and moved on. I reminded him again, and again he pretended to give a damn. When I got down I gave him the evil eye. The guy just looked down and again he pretended: “he does not exist”.

The dude didn’t bother to fix the dripping aircon duct because tomorrow he will be randomly assigned to another bus by the operator. In the end: why fix something that won’t be his problem tomorrow.

3. There is no escape. I tried moving my head away from the drip which in return, exposed my back. Fucker.

In the end, I realize, that I could’ve said to the conductor: “Ayusin mo muna bago kita bayaran”, but then he would’ve said “Bayad ka muna bago ko ayusin”. Chicken and egg arguments go nowhere so I also realize that it’s good that I didn’t say a word about payments and repairs.

I guess we all get bad days. The better you are at forgetting them, the sooner you get to the next good thing in your life. Yeah.

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curiosity killed the cat: www.mailmeart.com

Breakdown

2007-03-15T12:42:00.000+08:00

I’ve always believed in the theory of firsts: that in anything you do regularly, you will always encounter a first. A carpenter, no matter how careful, will experience hitting a thumb with a hammer; a singer, no matter how good, will experience a bad crowd; a doctor, despite extreme vigilance, will inevitable give out a wrong diagnosis. A regular bus rider, no matter what, will experience at least once in a life time:

A bus hold up
A pick pocket incident
Forgetting to get change from the bus conductor
Puking
Falling asleep and missing the drop off point

Today, I experienced a first: the total breakdown of a bus on the South Super Highway (SLEX). Below is a rough chronology of this morning’s bus adventure:

1. Omens. We had just left the Alabang interchange. There was a Tagalong movie playing on the TV, but then something is wrong. The video display suddenly went on fast forward. The conductor ignores this the same way everyone ignores the movie.

2. The bus, upon approaching the Sucat Interchange, makes a lot of funny sounds. Imagine a rusty robot Godzilla sinking in quicksand made up of twisted metal. We stop in the middle of the road. Minutes pass, and the unmistakable scent of a burnt clutch permeates the air. It’s the scent of burnt rubber on a rainy day.

Beside me, two girls become anxious. One whispers under her breath “exciting to”.

3. The conductor tries to fix things. No go. A cop from the nearby Sucat terminal arrives and he orders the driver to prepare to be towed. Everyone disembarks save for those who want a refund for the bus fare. When I got down the bus, I cross to the side of the highway to join the other passengers. We hope for another bus to pick us up.

4. The tow truck arrives. The cop tells us to ride the bus again so that the tow truck can bring us to the safety of the Sucat toll gates. We get there, disembark, and walk towards the bus stop. I get to ride another bus for Ayala-Edsa.

5. Comedy of errors: I rode the wrong bus on the Sucat Interchange. I go down on Buendia and I take the MRT back to Ayala. Sigh. I get to the office late by an hour. I would’ve been a rotten day if not for the conversation that I overheard on my second bus ride of the day:

Man 1: Lakas siguro makina nyan (pointing to a tow truck with a bus in tow. The towed bus is the one that broke down on me)
Man 2: Bai! Kaya nyan hilahin bahay nyo!
(both laugh)
Man 3: (in a very serious manner) di a!

So I said to myself: “Breakdowns can be fun too!”

…

curiosity killed the cat: http://brunelleschi.imss.fi.it/menteleonardo/

Tickets

2007-03-01T18:05:00.000+08:00

I saw a very idiosyncratic thing today: a woman paid for her bus fare and placed her tickets in a heart shaped card board container that is held together by four rubber bands. I’m looking at two assumptions here: she once had a very bad experience with a bus ticket checker over some misplaced tickets or she lives a life of 1000 details. Either way, I do have to admit that I once placed some undue stress on bus tickets which, if you really think about it, are really important and useless all at the same time. I guess it really depends on how you see it or on how you treat your bus tickets:

The Watch Way

Those who ascribe to this method of ticket handling are often men with big watches. It’s really simple; just fold the ticket a couple of times until you can easily slide it under your watchband. Variations include the use of a ring or tight bracelet. A side note though: I was once a witness to a guy who slid old bus tickets under his watch band in the hopes of misleading the bus conductor to thinking that he already has tickets. He got caught and I felt a bit embarrassed for him.

The “Where-There’s-a-Nook-and-Cranny” Way

This is probably the most popular of bus ticket handling in the Philippines. Probably because a. no one really wants to keep bus tickets and when the destination is reached, they shift from essential proof of payment to garbage and b. it’s a bit fun to do and doing what everyone is doing plays big in our innate nature to blend in. The “Where-There’s-a-Nook-and-Cranny” Way is really easy to pull off: just fold the ticket and find the nearest spot where it can be inserted to. Popular spots are bus windows and the tears in the faux leather of the bus seats.

The Keep and Dispose at Home Way

Those who do this have some form of personality quirk or maybe even a phobia that ranges from mild to deep seated. I keep my bus tickets in a small open pouch on my bag because I have this very irrational fear that I’d lose them and once the bus checker comes around, he’d think that I’m trying to weasel my way out of paying the bus fare. Sheeesh. Either way, it’s really better to get some peace of mind than to suffer an anxiety filled bus trip over a bunch of misplaced bus tickets. So.

I’ve been riding busses since grade school and I have done a lot of things with my bus tickets: from making origami ducks, planes and boats to placing them in the donation envelopes of bus preachers to using them as an emergency replacement for tissue when I accidentally got in contact with some unknown jell-o goop (don’t ask). Bottom line, we all do our thing with the small pieces of paper that we get from the bus conductor. The lady in the intro above, for all we know, keeps her bus tickets so that she can recycle them (www.wikihow.com/Make-Paper) for Christmas cards. Me, I just keep em where its safe and that’s that.

…

curiosity killed the cat: www.6billionothers.org

Stinker

2007-02-19T12:46:00.000+08:00

“That's the scent dude! When you get a good stink on, you are at one with the cosmos!”

Takayuki Ikkaku, Arisa Hosaka and Toshihiro Kawabata
Animal Crossing: Wild World, 2005

The stink sprinted up my nose like a suicide shot of wasabe cocaine: He was a man with an overly large tummy. He had dark red skin. He wore a white polo shirt that has gone through 300 thousand washings. He had a Borat level moustache and he rested his right arm just above the headrest that fronted us. He was the man I sat next to on the bus this morning; he was the man who assaulted me with the stink of a thousand hard working African open pit miners on a scorcher day.

Thank god for embrocations! I’ve always thought that grandmas White Flower would save me one day after I pass out, not before I pass out. I dabbed some wonder oil on the back of my palm and breathed in its sharp air deodorizing scent. I was Mark Renton desperately snorting coke. The man didn’t stink from under arm body odor; he stank from every skin pore of his body. I could never imagine what a crammed up prison cell in a local city jail would smell like, but this morning I was there.

And so after this odorous chapter in my bus riding life, I feel that I need to analyze the source biology of commuter stink. The way I see/smell it, there are three archetypes:

LEVEL 1 / tolerable

Tolerable; hmmm, what does a tolerable stink smell like. It’s something you can live with: it’s a spinster aunt who goes overboard on makeup and old perfume; you get annoyed by the smell but since it’s your aunt you just say to yourself: “Hey, family reunions are done once a year. I’ll just bare with it”.

LEVEL 2 / unnerving

Simply put, it’s a person who forgot to put on deodorant hence the garden variety body odor. The smell is just plain unnerving. It’s not like getting run over by a truck which leaves you dead or wishing you we’re dead. It’s much like getting run over by a furiously pedaling deranged side car driver. You will just hate that you got hit; you will just hate that you smelled the rotten lemony stink B.O. of your bus seatmate.

LEVEL 3 / fully weaponized bio agent

I cannot describe how LEVEL 3 would smell. But then I can outline a way by which it can be attained:

Step1: Don’t take a bath for 3 days. Just relax and stay nice and cool at home.
Ferment. Don’t sweat as much as possible.

Step2: Commute by non
aircon bus from Alabang to the QC Circle. Do this at around 12 noon, during
summer.

Step3: Commute by jeep from the QC Circle to Quiapo; from
here, go back to the south via jeep via coastal road.

Step4: Attend
an all night drinking spree. Smoke a pack of cigarettes.

Come morning, you will have attained a Zen connection with the cosmos: you will not stink; you will be stink personified. To stink means to accidentally shit in your pants and smell bad, to become stink means to go under a long and slow process of stinkification from which is born a form of self immunity from your own smell. You’ll know that you stink so bad, but you just can’t smell it and you just don’t give a rat’s ass.

The man I sat next to this morning, he was at one with the cosmos. When he gets home, he won’t go straight for the shower. He’ll probably eat, watch TV, chit chat with a house mate and rest and maybe at the end of the day say: “Bukas nako maliligo.”

…

curiosity killed the cat: www.metacritic.com

eavesdropped: P6

2006-12-03T14:10:00.000+08:00

“Yung kuya Randy mo, saan ba nya tinago yung typewriter?”

“Dun po sa cabinet, sa taas.”

”Kaninong kabinet?”

”Sa kabinet po nya.”

”Sa kabinet ng kuya Randy mo?”

”Opo.”

”Eh yung penchum 6 na laptap, hindi ko na nakikita.”

”Andun din po sa kwarto nya.”

”Sabihan mo yang kuya Randy mo na ingatan nya yung Laptap. Mahal ang bili ng daddy nya dun.“

The 40 year old tita jumped to the next topic that swam in her head: the ref and how to save money by opening it less. Her companion, a thin teenager with the patience of a 40 year old man, just listened on.

Pentium 4 was released last November 2000. As of November 2007, no processor with the name Pentium 6 has been released (the same goes for Pentium 5). The teenager in the conversation knows this but then he loves his tita so that’s that.

…

curiosity killed the cat: www.origami-club.com/en

Peanuts

2006-11-27T10:00:00.000+08:00

You’ll never run out of things to laugh about while riding the bus. Just look and listen and your all set:

“maniii maniii… maniii kayo jan...”

”malasa malutong maraming bawang... mani kayo jan...”

”maniii maniii, maraming bawang...”

maniii, maniii kayo jan, bagong luto yan, malasa malutong...”

”maniii, maniii kayo jan... maraming bawang... marami ding maniii”

I laugh by closing my mouth and exhaling in bursts through my nose. A peanut vendor with a sense of humor; you don’t get that everyday.

“maniii maniii… maniii kayo jan...”

I can’t stop smiling. I’m an idiot. Might as well buy because in the end, I’ll take more than just the peanuts; I’ll get a funny respite to an otherwise boring trip which is worth more than P5 I’ll shell out.

“isa.”

I hand him a P5 coin. He hands me a small brown pocket of aromatic abobong mani.

“maniii maniii… bagong luto malutong.”

I eat. And then I get thirsty. By the next bus stop, a bottled drink vendor comes. There’s a conspiracy here somewhere but I don’t mind.

…

curiosity killed the cat: www.world-heritage-tour.org

Thief

2006-11-21T09:47:00.000+08:00

An officemate lost his phone recently. He lost it to thieves while riding the bus. And so:

1. Thieves are predators. They lie in wait for a target. So when you ride the bus, and they see that you’re a viable victim, then they will operate on you. To avoid this, make an impression of being a deadly mark. When you ride the bus try to look at all the faces you see as you walk down the aisle. Don’t move like a zombie with a blank stare. When you sit down, try to glance at your seatmates, then make them see you looking at their hands. A regular passenger will just ignore you, or he/she will think you’re also a thief so no problem there. A thief on the other hand, will make a mental note: he looked at my hand, the hand that I will use to steal. He knows so now is not a good time.

When riding the bus don’t be mechanical: don’t move thinking I’ve done this a hundred thousand times before. The more you get used to a certain action, the more you get relaxed, the more you become an easy target.

2. Sun Tzu the man. Never fight on multiple fronts so keep all your valuable belongings in one location. Some may say this might NOT be a good idea, putting all your eggs in one basket, but then would you rather: watch your back pocket for your wallet, watch your front pockets for your phone and maybe your coin purse and watch your bag for your other important belongings. Your choice.

3. Remember the Law of the Elevator. Notice that when you ride elevators, there seems to be an undeclared rule of personal space that must be followed. When the elevator is jam packed, everyone strives to avoid bumping into each other no matter what. And when elevator space frees up, so does the space between its riders in equal measurements: if there are four left in an elevator, then each will occupy their designated corner.

Now how does The Law of the Elevator apply to bus riding? Not much really, but then know that if your personal space is violated while riding the bus, then something is afoot. You are most prone to theft when getting on or alighting from a bus, more so if there are a lot of people around; the more of your personal space that you lose, the more chances that a thief’s hand will slip through your pockets with out being caught.

My officemate who lost his phone, he got bumped at the back while going down the bus. Some guy also bumped him from another angle while the one in front of him moved slowly so as to give time for the guy behind him to make the move. The theft was over in less than ten seconds.

4. Create a profile of your Seatmate. If it’s a granny with 10 plastic bags or a half sleeping saleslady then relax. If otherwise or if a small alarm rings in your head, then be wary. The best way to stop a thief from doing his thing is to let him/her know that you know. Here are some things you can do:

a. glance at his/her hands (as advised above) and make it obvious that you are looking.

b. keep your belongings close to you. Secure everything that needs to be secured and let the uspected thief see that you are doing this.

c. scratch something in your neck so that you can make a direct look at your suspects face with the imaginary scratching as the excuse. You can also pretend to be blowing your nose to do this. Thieves will desist from the act if they know they’ve been identified by face.

Just be careful. If you’re a guy and you do this to another guy then 2 things may happen (If you’re wrong about your seatmate): he will think your gay or he will think your looking for a fight. Note that this move isn’t advisable if you’re a girl. Use your imagination for the reasons why.

Thieves are all around us and they have their everyday quotas to fill. It’s really up to you if you want to be a statistic and up to them to decide if they want you to be one. So be sharp, be vigilant. But then don’t forget that if it comes to gun/knifepoint, then DO NOT argue. Give your wallet, your phone or whatever the thief/thieves ask/s for. Dying or getting seriously injured because you do not want to part with your valuables is the height of stupidity. You are worth more than anything else in this world.

…

curiosity killed the cat: www.sea-monkeys.com

DAU

2006-10-30T13:09:00.000+08:00

Cubao is a melting pot.

Go far south to Laguna or Batangas or go far north to Baguio or Tarlac and you’d see busses with the Cubao signboard. Go to Cubao and you’d see the opposite: Busses that are destined for the far north and south poles of Luzon. Go to Cubao and you’ll see hundred upon hundreds of travelers, arriving and leaving for homes both near and far. Cubao is a melting pot and last week, I became a small ingredient in its crazy mix.

My girlfriend and I were invited to a birthday party in Pampanga. Accommodations were provided for an overnight stay and all we needed to do was to get there. The bus was the best option and so we became bus bound for a couple of hours and along the way, we saw the best of what the simplest of things can offer.

It was a gray day, meaning the sun wasn’t shining and there was no hint of any impending rain. Along the way, we saw ducks and kids swimming in ponds as big as a city block, factories spewing evil dark smoke into the heavens amidst a backdrop of lush green. By the highway, a trio of best friends sat by the steps of an unused overpass by the highway. Any bus ride to the province can give anyone a glimpse of things that are good and true, all you need to do is look.

At the end our bus trip is the DAU Terminal which is a horse shoe shaped facility with the inner part serving as the drop/take off point. Entering the place, you’d see a lot of things:

1. Food Stalls. What would a bus terminal be with out food stalls. By my estimate, I’d guess there were 40 of them in the whole place and what’s funny is that they all sell the same things: bottled drinks, junk food, boiled quail and chicken eggs, grilled barbeque and hotdogs, sandwiches, load and local pastries such as hopia and ensaymada. Some sold coffee but I guess sales for this product only picks up at night and in the morning. I also saw a pseudo pharmacy that sold a lot of medicinal oils and a couple of basic medz.

2. Beggars. What would any public place be with out them; everyone has a personal belief system when it comes to beggars, I keep mine to myself but then I also have advice for those who will encounter the ones operating in bus terminals.

First, know that if you give to one, there is a good chance that word will spread of your generous tendencies and you’ll be hounded by more beggars. If you want to give, then have a handful of change at hand as preparation for the alms influx.

Second, if you don’t give, be prepared to stand your ground for a minute and 30 seconds or so. The beggar will stick with you for the duration of this time, hoping that you will change your mind. Break
and you’ll find yourself facing the scenario above.

Third, be careful of the kids. The writers of old call them street urchins and there is a reason for this. Kids are more brazen than the typical adult beggar. They will touch you a lot. Give to one and you’ll be
faced, again, with the first scenario. Don’t give, and be prepared to get touched, a lot.

3. Ambulant Vendors. They are an extension of the food stalls and they operate on this premise: why wait for the customer to go to you and buy food when you can go to them and sell. Going home, while seated on the bus, these were the vendors who came by to peddle their journey grub:

The Chicharon Dude / 3 medium sized bags for a hundred bucks

The Quail Egg Person / P10 for 5 pcs, all conveniently wrapped in ice candy plastic with a pinch of salt

The Hot Dog Person / I didn’t get the price, but then it sure was funny how a 5 inch wiener was stretched to 10 on the stick with some creative spiral cutting. Note that the hot dog person also sold hot dogs on buns and, yeah – they looked really good.

Oranges! The dude sold oranges at 7 pcs per 50 Pesos. Nada bad deal I guess. Also, I love people who eat oranges in busses. Peel one and the whole bus gets enveloped in scents of orange goodness.

The Beverage Man. Water, bottled-flavored-cold-tea, canned sodas; of all, it is this dude who earns the most because no matter what you eat, you will always need some drink to wash it down.

4. Travelers. They come in packs usually, and they carry loads and loads of cargo. They also have a hard time getting rides because of their need to move as a group versus the limited seats on the bus.

The DAU terminal is a miniature Cubao except that the place carries a much more relaxed atmosphere. In Cubao, make a wrong step and the lingering predators of the place will pounce and steal. Here, in DAU, well, nobody seems to mind you or your business or your destination. What you’d see in contrast of Cubao is this charm that’s etched in the faces of all the travelers who pass by; moms and dads with kids in tow, lovers of varying passions, the old with their young wards or the young guiding grandmas and grandpas. Everyone is anxious in a good way, everyone is waiting for the adventure that the road trip ahead offers. And as I wait, I smell the barbeque smoke that hangs in the air.

…

curiosity killed the cat: www.foodtimeline.org

weightless

2006-08-23T10:21:00.000+08:00

I’ve always wondered how it’s done: how an old lady could go from her home to a destination so far away with three large bags full of heavy things. If you commute a lot, which I do, then you’d know what I’m talking about. Ride a jeep and you’d see an old emaciated granny transporting bags and bags of meat and fish and produce. All this weight, measured in kilos or by bulk, a burden shouldered by others, from the market to her home. On busses, you see boxes wrapped in cheap straw alongside large bags made of rainbow colored plastic fabric; moving them across town is a lone granny: a virtual Hercules propped by brittle bones and wrapped in tired skin.

So how is it done?

The Lola prepares her load at home, with no thought on weight or bulkiness. Then she sets out. From the front of her abode, a tricycle driver stops and alights from his beast of burden. He carries the old lady’s stuff into his ride and the lady sits and they spirit away. This process is repeated from here to the jeep, to the bus and to the next PUV in the old woman’s Journey. The lady reaches her destination, and the only thing that she has carried is an old black purse aged to its limit and maybe a small plastic bag of pasalubong.

Why is it done?

Why is it done, meaning why would everyone on the road, why would everyone stop and help out any old lady? I’ve done this a hundred times, and in all instances I realize that it’s a reflex based action. I wait for the bus; an old lady is by my side, patiently waiting too with luggage by her foot. The bus arrives and in tandem with the kunduktor, we help the old lady with her stuff. No questions asked, no eye contact, no nothing: just a reflex reaction to the scenario at hand. It is done because the alternative is not acceptable, under any circumstance.

Why risk it?

Go to the U.S. or Canada or to France or to any other first world European country and you wont see old ladies commuting with a load five times their weight. Why the oldies of these countries don’t do this, I don’t know. Why the grandma I rode in the bus with this morning would risk it, well she knows in her soul that all would help the same way she helped all when everyone was young and needed food to eat. For when we needed to get well from a fever, she was there. For when we pooped in our pants, she was there to clean us up. For each instance that you needed someone to hit cash from, she was there to hand you something. We automatically help the same way she did so long ago, when she was fit and able. We automatically help because in her advanced years, she still helps back in her own Herculean way.

Somewhere, in a crowded bus terminal, there sits an old lady. Beside her is a kid, around them are their belongings. Three large bags, a tin of biscuits and a bayong of vegetables: all weightless. The old lady fixes her glasses around her small nose; she looks at her watch, then at the busses, then at the kid: another day will pass, a hundred thousand more to go.

…

curiosity killed the cat: www.nbi.doj.gov.ph/most_wanted.html

film review: Fist of Fury

2006-08-14T10:34:00.000+08:00

Bruce Lee walks by a wooded trail while eating chips. His path is blocked by a fence. First he looks, then he does a 2 second assessment and then with no fear, he does a short sprint towards the wall and jumps. On the other side, he is met with the main bad guy of the film along with his thugs. Bruce Lee threatens them all. The thugs, being thugs, mindless and all, they rush to Bruce hoping to pound the beeejeeezuz out of him. Bruce furiously eats his chips and beats them all up with elegant kung fu. The Evil Boss is next. Chips are thrown aside. They fight and in the process, three things happen to Bruce:

1. He gets a knife wound on the cheek
2. His shirt gets torn off
3. His anger increases ten fold after being subjected to verbal abuse

Don’t worry, these things always happen to Bruce. He’s used to it. Either way, Bruce wins in the end and similar to our movies, the cops arrive after all the fighting has been done.

I have to admit, this would be the first time I’ve seen a Bruce Lee film while riding a bus. It’s usually Face Off / Armageddon / or some other B movie with forgettable actors and a storyline that rivals the complexities of children’s books. I have to admit too that everyone’s attention was drawn to the tube as the movie played; I’ve thought of the reasons why this is so, beyond the fact that everyone doesn’t have anything better to do while the bus raged on by the highway. I’m guessing it’s because with Bruce Lee films, it’s really cool to know that in the end, you’d always see good prevailing over evil and that if this only happened most of the time in the real world then everyone wouldn’t be glued so much to the bus TV as they are now. Oh well.

The VCD is flipped. The early scenes of Fist of Fury are shown. You see Bruce Lee alighting from a big boat along with an old man. They walk around a bit, on a sun bright path lined with thin shrubs. They get hungry so they eat by a road side eatery. A very beautiful lady serves them bowls of Chinese food goodness. Then it happens. Four guys go in and bully the lady. The camera focuses on Bruce Lee. His eyes seethe with anger. Go on Bruce, its ok. We understand. Beat them up; we’d do the same thing if we could.

…

curiosity killed the cat: http://www.msu.edu/~karjalae/internet96.htm

helloHello

2006-08-08T19:09:00.000+08:00

I got a nice long letter the other week. whew. ok. in one square go:

1. The Love Bus was an ambitious brainchild of Imelda Marcos. It was a very popular ride back in its day due to its relative newness versus the old dilapidated aircon busses at the time. Imelda called it the “love bus” because she got inspired by the “love boat”, a TV series that was very popular in the 80’s. yeah.

2. you still need to be careful of the manyaks in the bus. They are still out there and their methods have evolved through the years.

3. cockroaches bug me too. Some days you’ll see a lone wolf crawling around the bus. Other days, you’ll see a whole brood of assorted cockroaches in varying stages of development (baby, teenager, strapping young adult, the geezer roach). The best defense against them is apathy. I’ve discovered that the more you notice them, the more they gravitate towards you. so.

4. it’s 7 because their number 1 in the local network wars. I think it’s a good ratings barometer: the more you see shows from a specific channel while riding the bus, the more odds that their numero uno in the land. needless to say, don’t forget your book/mp3 player when riding. They help maintain your sanity amidst the mindless banter of noontime game shows.

5. I get squeezed too by big hairy ape men who smell funny. There is no escape from this.

6. yes, they do forget sometimes to give change. I don’t get mad, I just let it slide. You are right to think that maybe the change you didn’t get helped them in some way. It does. The kunduktor/bus driver has a quota that must be reached per day. If they need to earn P5000 pesos and they only get P4,500, then they will shoulder from their pockets the balance of P500. life is hard for these people. Give them your sympathy and patience as much as you can. :-D

7. and yes. Commuting is the best. Never envy the rich for their cars. They are missing out on the many many fun experiences that you get everyday when riding the bus. From the mani vendor who calls you tisay, to the babies, to the tragi-comic-but-well-meaning preachers to the oldies to the loving couples to the power-nappers to the next fun adventure that waits for you every time you ride the bus. My advice, don’t keep these stories with you, share. why not start your own blog. we are not the only ones who love bus rides, and there are many out there who will love reading your bus ride adventures.

Like I said: yeah.

…

curiosity killed the cat: www.global-source-mkt.com/bg-nativitycross2.htm

singular

2006-07-24T14:15:00.000+08:00

“pasensya na po sa abala.”

“sige sige, parepareho lang tayo sa mundo.”

These were the last words that the Kunduktor said to the man beggar as he alighted from the bus. I was behind him, waiting patiently as he slowly went down. He has a nerve or muscle related problem. His knees and arms shook as he moved, his eyes firmly locked at the path he wishes to tread, his mind unsure if he can make it back to the curb.

He introduced himself as a former bus driver. He slowly walked around the bus asking for help. I gave him some cash, so did some of the passengers. Others did not notice the man; I guess apathy kills more than we will ever know.

When I gave him my alms, he looked me straight in the eye and whispered:

“Diyos na ang bahala sayo.”

I gave him my poker face and acted as if I didn’t hear a word. Inside, my heart bleeds.

In the end, if you really want to think morbidly about it, what the Kunduktor said was true: parepareho lang tayo sa mundo. From the rich folk of condos and gated subdivisions, to the middleclass to the poor of the shanties: we will all leave the earth someday. We will all laugh and cry, fight and retreat, crawl, walk and crawl again, and in the end, the sum of our actions decides our destiny. We are all bound by a singular fate: the final test to know if whether we are worthy of paradise or its counterpart.

On a bus, a helpless man asks for help. He says “diyos na ang bahala sa inyo” when you give of whatever you can spare.

And if you don’t give even if you have:

“Diyos na ang bahala sa inyo.”

...

curiosity killed the cat: www.insuranceandnews.com

bread

2006-07-20T13:08:00.000+08:00

I always thought that everyone she sold food to hated her.

The first time I took notice of the vendor by the MRT Edsa Ayala bus stop was when she was ardently coercing a jeepney driver to buy more than he needed. The poor guy wanted to get “Suman” from the lady and he wanted two pieces and due to a steady stream of convincing on the vendors part, the dude went away with four.

The lady just shoved the extra 2 “Sumans” down the loose pockets of the jeepney driver’s vest.

This would be the reason why I though that all her customers hated her. Then one day I found myself buying bread from the lady.

“magkano po?”, I said while pointing.

“quatro.”

“dalawa ho”

The lady looked at the three pieces of bread. Here we go.

“kunin mo na lahat.”

Then she flashed the sweetest smile you could imagine in a 1 kilometer radius. The fat lady, with her glass eye, short cut hair and thick sun kissed skin was on the charm offensive.

“sige na ho. akin na lahat.”

I always thought that everyone she sold food to hated her. As it turns out, everyone hated her and loved her all at the same time.
…

curiosity killed the cat: www.godchecker.com

film review: So Close

2006-07-14T12:30:00.000+08:00

The best thing about bus movies is when they start as you sit down. And the best thing about this is when the movie you chance upon kicks off with a bang. Okay, here’s the low down of So Close in 50 words or less:

Lin and Sue are cute and sexy assassin sisters. They kill someone but then the
criminals who hire them want to kill them too. Then there’s this chic cop who
wants to bring them in. In the end, the sisters, with the help of the chic cop,
kill their pursuers.

I know I know. What a vague 50 words or less nut shell. But hey, seriously, with movies like this, you don’t really look at the plot. It’s the action scenes that you gun for pure and simple. But then please consider the three things that I will point out below as the main elements that make So Close such a wonderful chic-keng-fwoo-film:

the watch. look at yours. it’s downright pathetic compared to the watch worn by one of the assassin sisters. watch the movie to really know why.

surveillance manipulation. Big Brother don’t know shit. a backgrounder is in order: some dude invented a way of hacking into any surveillance camera on earth which he aptly called (drum roll) World Panorama. He tried selling this invention to the authorities, but was turned down. Suspiciously, the underworld got wind of the World Panorama. They tried to aquire it and when the inventor turned them down, he got, killed. The dude is the dad of the two chic assassins whose brutal killing they witness when they were young. this is how scars are made.

imagine such crazy power: you can hack into any surveillance camera. you can mess with any video surveillance system. you can knock on big borthers house, ask to see the dude and say: you don’t know shit.

“everybody loves kung fu fighting!” – carl douglas / 1974. yeah. kung fu fighting chicks rock. there’s a reason why Tomb Raider made it so big despite having a girl lead, and its because guys love girls who can fend for themselves. with So Close, the girls kick ass and they do it with so much motherly mercy: instead of beating the crap and shooting a bad guy in a fatal area, they beat the crap and shoot the bad guy in the leg. it’s kung fu love at its finest.
So Close is a good bus film, and I wouldn’t mind seeing it again. pretty Chinitas who can kick ass. It’s a no brainer my friend.

reality

2006-05-15T09:08:00.000+08:00

”sorry po, hindi na po mauulit..”

”hindi na talaga mauulit ang ginawa mo.”

”po?”

”heto tangapin mo.”

(man hands girl envelope)

”last pay mo yan. mag mula ngayon hindi ka na dito magtratrabaho.”

“wag po. kelangan ko po ang trabahong ito.”

“pasensya ka na ija at ngayon ang last day mo. wag ka nang papasok bukas.”

odd. everyone is glued to the Koreanovella on the television. I nudge my friend with my elbow and tell him that the girl on the TV just got fired. my friend, in reply, snorts in my general direction.

next scene:

the girl moves along on a sidewalk. problems rushing all around her head. she brings out her last pay, someone bumps her from behind and she accidentally drops all her money. gusts of wind follow. the girls money scatters all around. the man next to me exclaims:

“kawawa naman!”

I look at my friend. he is half asleep.

Its 10 am in the morning, Saturday. outside, Tropical Storm Caloy relentlessly lashes at everything; the trees bow to its fury, the roads are littered with debris. In a corner, under an overpass is a man sipping coffee from an immaculate white styro cup.

I guess the bus can really blot out reality sometimes. and I love it.

smoked

2006-05-08T12:08:00.000+08:00

there is something wrong with my vision. it’s getting a bit blurry.

someone shouts: “usok usok!”

the inside of the bus is quickly enveloped with dark carbon monoxide. we pull over to the curb and slowly everyone goes down. Just my luck, I’m seated at the back part so I have to wait for almost all the passengers to get out before I get to breath the fresh South Luzon Expressway (SLEX) air.

everyone in the bus almost died.

carbon monoxide is the most toxic substance that a daily commuter will come in contact with. you cant smell, see or taste it which is why its considered as one of the most common type of accidental poisoning in the world.

symptoms:

shortness of breath
mild nausea
mild head ache

see why it can easily kill. the symptoms above can be blamed on hundreds of small causes, and by the time you figure out its carbon monoxide, it would be too late. Know that high levels of carbon monoxide in a contained environment can kill with in minutes.

And mind you, this aint the first time I’ve experienced carbon monoxide inside a bus. The last time I felt its presence, I was sharp enough to inform the other bus riders about the threat followed by me promptly going down. The funny thing was that no one followed me. here’s the Twilight Zone tragi-comic image in my head at the time:

I’m in a field surrounded by soldiers. I shout: are you with me!!! (to the top
of my lungs). Then I charge against the enemy, all by myself. Heee heee. I get
shot in the leg and scream: you bastards! The carbon monoxide will kill
you all!!!

Fact is, a lot of people are ignorant about the dangers of carbon monoxide. I once heard an urban legend on how this girl died in the parking lot of some mall after falling asleep in her air conditioned car. turns out the exhaust of her car seeped in and killed her as she slept. There’s an urban legend but I never hear, read or watch about it on the news. what are we to make of this?

“sakay sakay!”

the Kunduktor asks everyone to go back in. i ask the dude before I go up the bus steps:

“naayos nyo?”

“fanbelt fanbelt.”

“fanbelt?”

“ayos na.”

and so I go in, sniffing around for a doubtful scent. but then I’m midway to Alabang from Edsa, on the SLEX. I have no choice I guess.

regulate

2006-05-02T08:44:00.000+08:00

they want to self-regulate. the Integrated Metro Manila Bus Operators Association (IMBOA), wants the government to de-regulate the fares of busses to help them survive the skyrocket movement of fuel prices.

The meat of their cause focuses on this: the fuel industry of the Philippines is deregulated so that the major fuel providers can adjust their prices to protect themselves from the volatile international oil market. IMBOA argues that the same should be true with bus fares because 30 to 40 percent of a bus operator’s expenses are fuel based.

Quotable quote:

“The oil industry is deregulated, but we, who are operating under it are a regulated industry.”
–Claire dela Fuente, IMBOA President

they make sense, but then we need to dig deeper, a pros cons list is in order:

pros:

survival. less bus firms will fold up and die when bus fares are deregulated. They can adjust prices according to the current price of fuel and keep their profits steady. The more bus firms that survive, the more busses we have, the more happy the commuting public will be.

power of choice. with deregulation comes the price war. Some busses will charge less while others will charge premium rates. Some busses will be crappy, others will be more well kept. The riding public will be given a choice and this is good. The only hitch here is that some busses will have the gal to charge premium rates despite dilapidated, air polluting, insect infested, funny smelling busses.

cons:

anger. on both the side of the passengers and the bus Kunduktor. Passengers who get to ride the more expensive busses will complain about the fare, Kunduktor’s will then say:

a: “Kung ayaw mo mag bayad e di sa iba ka sumakay!”
b: “Hindi naman ako ang nagsabi na ganito ang singil namin, ang management!”

from here, passenger and Kunduktor will now be tied in a heated circular, tit-for-tat argument. some passengers might join in and gang up on the poor bus collector, other passengers may just opt to go down and seek another ride.

confusion. Fuel prices change from day to day; imagine deregulated fares changing in the same manner based on the local prices of gas/diesel. This is not good. The poor will be torn with the frequent adjustments which will be quicker to increase than to decrease.

There is a reason why our oil industry is deregulated: the price of oil in any country must be defined by FREE market forces and it must not be artificially influenced via subsidies or the like. Should the same train of thought be applied to the transport industry? Is fare deregulation the answer to the cash problems of our bus operators vis-à-vis the price of fuel. I don’t really know.

I remember riding a jeep one day; it was the first morning of the newly implemented P7.50 minimum fare. I paid the driver and he said:

“Wag muna.”

It took close to a full month before everyone followed the new minimum fare for PUJ’s. Some drivers refused to immediately pass on this new burden to their passengers, some of which refused to pay the correct amount unless the driver had the new tariff matrix posted in his/her jeep. It took a while for everyone to get used to it; what of deregulated bus fares? I feel that it will take a long struggle before everyone gets to accept this new rule. Maybe someone can research on how it is done in other countries. Honestly, I’d be dead interested to know how it is implemented, that is, if it ever exists.
One thing is certain though, all sides must be heard before anything is set in stone. The more planning involved the more chances of success. lets regulate.

oldie

2006-04-24T09:48:00.000+08:00

I call her the oldie with a thousand details. well ok, I really didn’t see a thousand details but I’m dead sure that she bears in her daily life a thousand details. all I need to do to confirm this is to be with her for a week or so.

the bus was unusually cold that day when we sat side by side. I began taking a mental note of the many things she fussed about the moment I realized her busy hands.

make up – yep. even little old ladies have glam foxes in them. she applied, re applied, looked in her little mirror and re applied again. I didn’t see her use lipstick but then she already had some on. Admit it or not, everyone loves a grandma who still strives to look good.

rollers – “she got rollers on her hair” – Rizal Underground. I know a few sure things about Filipino attitude, and this is one of them: the older you get the more social freedom you acquire. The old lady had rollers on her hair that screams I’m-a-steady-lola-so-damn-you-all! It’s just funny how she fixes them from time to time, her rollers seemed a bit… loose; they probably retired a long time ago but then some of our belongings will only retire when we retire. Look at your grandparents and their things and you’ll understand how and why.

the plastic bag with the infinite bottom - I counted three. she had a fairly big black lady’s bag, a medium sized pouch of the same color and a yellow plastic bag that had an assortment of everything: half consumed chips, school supplies, a fan and oddly enough, a pair of old tennis shoes. I realize the intricacy of the arrangement when, it was time to pay, she got her money after checking two of her bags; bills from one, coins from another. I got a bit scared when she curtly said to the Kunduktor: Senior! The poor dude wouldn’t dare ask for an ID to confirm this. I’m glad he didn’t.

umbrella – it’s a local universal thing. every old lady you meet has one which I can attribute to a heightened sensitivity to the sun and rain. The old lady by my side hooked her umbrella on the seat in front of us. But then I guess it’s really a Filipino thing. I’m told that if you go to New York in summer, you’ll know who the Pinoy’s are by looking for those who walk with an umbrella under the sun.

mobile phone – the oldie, I don’t know what power she has, but she sends out an SMS, and then she gets a call. She did this two times without fail, and all her conversations dealt with a couple of ‘bilins’/reminders, or rather, they sounded to me like precision marching orders.

checklist – I didn’t really know what went into her small notebook, I saw small checks alongside a couple of items on its pages. The lady checked and added as the bus rolled along. I could only imagine how the hubby survived such an organized person.

Throughout the trip, the oldie alternately fiddled with her stuff, looked out the window at all the regular roadside things we see everyday and at times, she would casually look at her small black watch. She was 70 by my guess, and she still grabs life by the horns. still rushing into things with an active soul, still minding the time with the knowledge of how easily it can be lost, still striving to be a part of the lives of the people she loves. before I go down, she takes out a small children’s book with a unicorn on the cover. Somewhere out there is a kid waiting for a bus riding lola.

film review: Armageddon

2006-04-17T15:13:00.000+08:00

it goes with out saying: if I had a peso for every time I’d see this film while riding the bus, id have enough money to produce the sequel. I’m exaggerating of course but then if you ride the bus regularly, you’d get my point. Okay, here’s the low down in 50 words or less:

big rock hurtling towards earth. firing nuke at it not enough to destroy.
professional drillers hired by U.S. sent to space via shuttle to drill hole in
rock. drillers drop nuke into hole and detonate. Earth is saved.

From the comfort of my bus seat, I realize that there may be some truth to the main premise of Armageddon. the Ice Age is believed to have been caused by such an event, a rock from space hits earth, blanketing the skies with dust thus lowering the over all temp of the planet. But really, if we were to be faced with the same scenario, would the final solution involve a misfit drilling team? I don’t think so. But I digress, lets go back to the film:

What can I say, Bruce Willis gave his usual, standard fare Bruce Willis brand of acting. As Armageddon goes, his performance can be dubbed as good to swell. The other main hero though was a bit… hammy. If you didn’t know Ben Affleck you’d think that he was just an amateur actor who was hired because of budget limitations. Liv Tyler on the other hand, well, yummy eye candy with red lips that can give Jolie’s pair a run for, er, their money*.

But for me, the main scene stealers are Rock Hound (Steve Buscemi), Bear (that big black dude from The Green Mile) and Max (the white fat dude). They have a few lines yes, but then they deliver with so much character and wit that you’d remember their parts more than that of the main stars. Below are a few gems:

Rockhound: You know we're sitting on four million pounds of fuel, one nuclear weapon and a thing that has 270,000 moving parts built by the lowest bidder. Makes you feel good doesn't it?

Bear (while sobbing in front of a psychoanalyst): I am not crazy! I'm just a little emotional right now, ok? Ya'll throwin all this stuff at me, man! Look, I mean, after this is over, can I like get a hug from you or something?

Max: God, it sucks up here.

Rockhound: You want to compare brainpans? I won the Westinghouse prize when I was 12, big deal. Published at 19, so what. I got a double doctorate from MIT at 22, Chemistry and Geology. I taught at Princton for two and a half years. Why do I do this? Because the money's good, the scenery changes and they let me use explosives, ok?

Harry/BruceWillis: Come on, God, just a little help. It's all I'm asking.
Max: I think we're close enough, He might have heard ya.

Bear: So, did NASA find oil on Uranus?

Max (Undergoing medical checkup): Who's that for? Mr. Ed? You stick that thing in me and I'm going to stab you in the heart with it. You ever see Pulp Fiction?

(military dudes talking to Harry/Bruce Willis)
Rockhound: Harry I swear to God man, she never told me her age.
Harry: It's alright, relax. It's about me.
Rockhound: Oh.

All in all, Armageddon delivers the goods. I give it a 9 out of 10 rating. I have to admit, the film is a very good bus ride movie. The story isn’t complicated and even if you don’t finish the film, you can still imagine how the ending goes. Plus, Armageddon has a lot of explosions** and stressful scenes which is very effective in staving off traffic boredom. Kudos for wayward asteroids!

*- this has got to be the weirdest sentence that I have written in my life.
**- fact: explosions are impossible in space due to the lack of oxygen.

P71

2006-04-10T09:33:00.000+08:00

I had just gotten off from work. weary and troubled, I ride the bus, trying hard to relax. I can’t. I have some work related problems that I need to figure out. I also have a couple of very small home front issues that need sorting.

the Kunduktor comes:

“sanpo sila?”

“Alabang galing Ayala.”

I hand him a hundred. the fare is P29.

“mamaya napo sukli.”

I nod and shift in my head to a work problem. Less than a minute passes and the Kunduktor hands me my change. I accept it without saying a word while trying to concoct a possible attack angle to my problems in the office.

he leaves. we arrive in Alabang. I stand and as I disembark from the bus, I ask the Kunduktor for my change. we stare at each other. I get pissed and ask him again:

“yung sukli sa 100, Alabang galling Ayala.”

more staring. He relents and gives me my change. I walk towards the jeepney station. I prepare my fare. In each of the front pockets of my jeans is a 71 peso set.

god. I just stole P71 from someone.

I feel bad. I could try looking for the guy but then needles lost in haystacks are a lost cause. Lesson learned: be wary of your change while riding the bus; It goes both ways - I could’ve lost P71. it’s a very common occurrence while riding busses when you give a large bill for the fare:

“mamaya napo sukli.”

danger danger. you could forget that you have change and just go down when you reach your destination and make the Kunduktor richer. or, the Kunduktor could forget that he already gave you change and give you change again; I am a living breathing example of this.

my fear of course, is that somewhere out there is a very angry man who thinks he got scammed by a passenger. and this man remembers my face and he has practiced a revenge scenario in his head should we meet again. Its ok. I remember his face too. All I need to do is look at the Kunduktor’s of the busses I ride; at least for the next few weeks or so.

reduction

2006-04-04T13:23:00.000+08:00

the plan, according to the Land Transportation Franchising and Regulatory Board (LTFRB) is to reduce the number of Public Utility Buses (PUB’s) on EDSA by more than 50 percent by the end of the year. Here’s the backbone rationale of the proposal in plain numbers:

busses plying EDSA:
5,000
EDSA bus capacity:
1,000
busses with legit franchise:
3,500
Illegal busses, aka “Colorum”
1,500

they plan to reduce the busses to reduce traffic. holy mother of wayward logic Batman, the solution is so simple it scares the crap out of me. first, reducing the root cause of traffic, the vehicles, is not the answer. Them cars, jeeps and busses are there for a reason: for transportation. second, the argument that there are too many busses on the road is just plain absurd; I still find myself standing while riding the bus from time to time. if there is an oversupply, then fear the shortage with leg muscle pain dread.

THINK: A standard bus can carry an average of 62 seated passengers*; 73 if you consider the stand uppers, and close to a hundred when the bus to commuter ratio gets desperate. The space that a bus occupies on the road is less than the space consumed by three cars which in turn can only carry six passengers per vehicle. Do the math and you’ll see its 18 vs. 62; 3 cars are no match against a single bus in terms of the real purpose of these vehicles: to transport people.

but then consider: most cars or SUV’s on Metro Manila’s major roads carry one to three passengers on average. Busses aren’t always full yes, but they easily move around half laden with commuters. Do the math again and you’ll see that the bus still wins.

EDSA is congested, with the wrong vehicles.

Reducing the busses isn’t the answer. Removing private vehicles on the road that carry 3 or less passengers, now that’s a start. But then this suggestion pales in comparison against the best solution to our traffic problems: the strict enforcement of the law. I know, it’s easier said than done but then had everyone followed the road laws in the first place, had it been enforced strictly from the beginning; then the traffic problem would not be this bad. realize that band aid solutions such as reducing busses on the road wont do. I’ll bet my mommas army boots that should the 50 percent reduction push through, that there will still be traffic in EDSA. Maybe then, the LTFRB can move on to plan B: reduce the people commuting.

Bottom-line, busses are essential in the arterial blood movement of any metropolis. So are jeeps and tricycles. These vehicles power commerce. Reducing buses on EDSA would be a bad idea; making bus drivers disciplined and law abiding would be a better one.

*: 11 3-seater benches, 11 2-seater benches, a 6-seater end bench, and a stool next to the driver.

relax

2006-03-27T12:17:00.000+08:00

the trick is acceptance. there are some things in this world that we can never have any control over: the oppressive heat of the sun while commuting or the lashing rain while crossing the street to catch a jeep. like I said, the trick is to accept some things as they come. take the world infamous traffic of Metro Manila (last I checked were ranked next to Bangkok in severity in Asia. Bangkok is number 1). If your stuck in traffic, it will be best if you just accept that you will be late as opposed to stressing over something on which you can never control.

“traffic na nga may humarang pa na bus. tama ba namang magsakay sa gitna ng kalye?”

the granny on my right doesn’t get it. she can rant all she wants, she can focus her ill will on the driver of the errant bus before us, she can call on all known gods for deliverance, she can do all this which gives her in return a healthy workout in an exercise of futility. The blocking bus will only move after getting its fill of passengers or after an MMDA trooper hits its body with a wooden baton.

“ano ba yan. pano pa tayo uusad kung hinarangan na ang daan.”

relax granny relax. beyond the blocking bus is a stretch of slow moving traffic. I’ve been here before, yesterday, the day before yesterday, all of the last year. The time window that were in, our current location, the presence of traffic now, it’s a firm constant.

You do not fight gravity because you will always lose. I add fuel to the fire:

“loko talaga ang mga bus na yan. wala kasing disiplina.”

The granny becomes 10 percent more furious.

“yan na nga bang sinasabi ko. Hindi kasi hinuhuli ng MMDA”

FACT: MMDA personnel cannot issue road violation tickets to motorists. I tell granny that the bugger bus seems to be moving. the bus we ride moves to take its place. we stop to get more passengers. The circle is complete.

many many weeks ago, I got stuck in flash bang traffic at the southbound SLEX at 10p. I could’ve gotten pissed and said: “how the hell could there be traffic at 10pm?”. but no. I just chilled. I’m always like this, whether I’m hurrying to somewhere or whether I have all the time in the world. Two seat rows from me is a couple (see picture). The girl sits like she owns the place. her mind isn’t here I thought. it’s in a wonderful place where she has her love who ardently listens to all her stories. Me, I just sat back, took out my 128mb mp3 player and I proceeded to relax in the presence of Pearl Jam, Nirvana and Rage Against the Machine. I smell around, someone is eating freshly cooked peanuts procured from a bus ambulant vendor. Yeah.

candyman

2006-03-21T18:19:00.000+08:00

He goes inside seconds after the bus moves out of the terminal. From the entrance to the end and back, he moves with a basket full of goodies. All are priced at P5 a pop which covers five individually wrapped candies repacked in clear plastic. I’m a big fan. The last Candyman that I patronized was this small sun burnt man with gaunt features. He went around the bus chanting:

“kaindeeah. kaindeeah. kaindeeah… kaindeeah kayo jan. panlibang sa biahe. kaindeeah. kaindeeah.”

he spoke like a drunken man; rather, like a man who has lived half his adult life in drunken stupor. When he sells his stuff, you’d hear this sharp raspy voice and words that feel like he has recited them a hundred million times:

“kaindeeah. kaindeeah. kaindeeah…”

he passes by. I ask him for my fave of the lot. I give him my P5 coin for the exchange and then he leaves me, continuing his mantra.

I love the Candyman. Below are the delights he peddles:

White Rabbit – Lower version of the real white rabbit that we all grew up with. This caramel flavored hard candy is my favorite although unlike its sibling, you cannot eat the secondary wrapper. My advice, open and consume two at a time for heightened caramel goodness.

Snow Bear – Hard mint candy; I’m not sure if it has a chocolate center. I’ll have to check.

Orange Swits (no typo, it’s really Swits) - Four pieces of orange flavored… er, non translucent gummy bear like candy. Good to chew on but always keep some water handy for the killer sweet caused thirst that follows.

Mentos – known as the new school of street candies with a wide following among yuppies and the young. Slogan alert: “Mentos, the freshmaker”. See the Foo Fighters’ video for Big Me for the alternative slogan: “Footos, The Fresh Fighter”.

Stork – I remember back in the 80’s; well back in the 80’s you could say I remember back in the 70’s. Stork is one of the grand daddy’s of bus candies. It has survived political strife (Martial Law, EDSA) and countless natural (Storms and Earthquakes) and man made (PR; a TV show covered its factories revealing how dirty the place is. Cockroaches were involved) disasters. There is even a rumor that if you consume too much Stork, you become, sterile. Either way, Stork will probably go on far beyond our life spans.

V Fresh – Alas, Juicy Fruit bowed out of the street and got a better image; it has since been replaced by V Fresh, a fun gum with the same annoying tenacity of the ol Juicy when accidentally stepped on on the streets.

Halls – We get two flavors: the classic yellow wrapped Honey Lemon and Halls White. I was never a fan of the former; the latter on the other hand is good for a ciggy combo.

Maxx – Another candy with a twin presence in the Candyman’s mobile storefront. You can choose between Cherry and Green. I really don’t know why, but I always come out thirsty after enjoying the Maxx brand.

The bus rolls along, humming angrily in its wake. There is no one here who can say NO to a free goody offer from the Candyman. There will always be something for someone, no matter what. I guess the only sad thing is that the bearer of delights is usually a hard working man thinned by circumstance. It’s like seeing an emaciated Saint Nick bearing gifts. I guess the best way to help is to always buy. What’s a P5 coin for a few treats every time you ride a bus; well, it means a lot to the Candyman.

lost

2006-03-15T19:09:00.000+08:00

why do I always get the crazy ones. busmates can be classified into two groups: the sane and the insane. of the sane, there is only one subcategory with one general description: they are quiet, they mind their own business and they ardently pray that they get seatmates with these same qualities. for the insane class, a.k.a. the Crazies, you have 30 or so subcategories. this morning I got the one which is the most common of all: the lost commuter.

“pre, pwede magtanong?”

I nod the smallest nod in the world.

“sanbababa kung San Pedro?”

horror of horrors. The bus was headed for Manila from Alabang via the South Luzon Express way. no stops would be made in Sucat or Bicutan. this man was headed in the opposite direction. I answer: “di ako sigurado eh.”

“sige, salamat.”

by my calculations, a full minute passes.

“pre, alam mo ba kung san bababa kung San Pedro?”

this man has amnesia.

“di ako sigurado. pero alam ko pa south yun. pa north tong bus. baba ka ng Mantrade tapos dun ka pwedeng magtanong.”

the man, wide eyed, repeats my advised stop.

“Mantrade.”

I nod. soon the inevitable hits me:

“saan ang Mantrade?”

“unang babaan.”

when we reach Mantrade, the man double confirms if he should go down. I nod. the less I say, the shorter the conversation; but then a flash pang of conscience hits me:

“tawid ka sa kabila tapos sakay ka ng Alabang. pag baba mo, wag ka tatawid. hintay ka na lang ng bus na San Pedro. may dadaan dun."

The man gets even with me: he nods a small nod. I am certain that he has disregarded my advice. he will go back to Alabang and ask another person for directions for San Pedro, Laguna. there is no helping him.