Riding an air-conditioned bus for at least an hour, at least twice a week has been a norm for me for the past 6 years. Finally settling in a comfortable seat without having to wait in a long line is one of life's simplest gems for a probinsyano like me.
In those 6 years of commuting to and from the country's top metro, I've never had a regular companion. Random orgmates who happen to be going home at the same time or random friends whom you surprisingly see at the terminal is the next best thing. Even this semi-regular set of 'bus-mates' changes from semester to semester.
Although technically, the bus ride home and the bus ride to Manila only differ in direction. But the destination of either trips makes a whole lot of difference in terms of the overall experience. The bus ride home feels much better -- it entails longing, excitement and a tinge of security. Whereas the bus ride to Manila involves a feeling of dread, exasperation and a little bit of hesitation.
I pass time in both rides in sleeping though. Aside from the fact that I am probably really sleepy anyway, it doubles as a temporary respite from reality. But in the few times that I don't sleep, it means it's pag-mumuni time, hehe!
These pseudo-emo moments can be crazy sometimes. Probing thoughts can be sometimes triggered by the passenger seated next to me. Usually, I wonder first why the person is making the trip. Of course, his get-up is the foremost clue. Usually on early Monday morning trips, there are a lot of formally dressed yuppie-looking people in their late 20's or early thirties with their attache-case looking bags. Their most probable stop: the MRT station at North EDSA.
Then there are my fellow students. They're easy to spot -- their huge travelling bags that probably teems with dirty laundry or take-home books or readings gives them away. The school ID they churn out for the conductor to avail of the fare discount confirms it.
Of course, there are the random people from all walks of life. Having no stereotypical idea of what they are, so I think about why they're having the trip. I wonder if they dread the trip of look forward to coming home as much as I do.
The emerald fields of rural Pampanga and Bulacan are always hopeful sights to see. For some reason, these fresh views bring a temporary feeling of hope. It completely disappears though as soon as I see the billboards in Valenzuela or the mini-skyline formed by SM Pampanga and Robinson's Starmills. For it means, in a few minutes, I would have to face the cruel outside world again. Wushu, andrama, haha!
In those 6 years of commuting to and from the country's top metro, I've never had a regular companion. Random orgmates who happen to be going home at the same time or random friends whom you surprisingly see at the terminal is the next best thing. Even this semi-regular set of 'bus-mates' changes from semester to semester.
Although technically, the bus ride home and the bus ride to Manila only differ in direction. But the destination of either trips makes a whole lot of difference in terms of the overall experience. The bus ride home feels much better -- it entails longing, excitement and a tinge of security. Whereas the bus ride to Manila involves a feeling of dread, exasperation and a little bit of hesitation.
I pass time in both rides in sleeping though. Aside from the fact that I am probably really sleepy anyway, it doubles as a temporary respite from reality. But in the few times that I don't sleep, it means it's pag-mumuni time, hehe!
These pseudo-emo moments can be crazy sometimes. Probing thoughts can be sometimes triggered by the passenger seated next to me. Usually, I wonder first why the person is making the trip. Of course, his get-up is the foremost clue. Usually on early Monday morning trips, there are a lot of formally dressed yuppie-looking people in their late 20's or early thirties with their attache-case looking bags. Their most probable stop: the MRT station at North EDSA.
Then there are my fellow students. They're easy to spot -- their huge travelling bags that probably teems with dirty laundry or take-home books or readings gives them away. The school ID they churn out for the conductor to avail of the fare discount confirms it.
Of course, there are the random people from all walks of life. Having no stereotypical idea of what they are, so I think about why they're having the trip. I wonder if they dread the trip of look forward to coming home as much as I do.
The emerald fields of rural Pampanga and Bulacan are always hopeful sights to see. For some reason, these fresh views bring a temporary feeling of hope. It completely disappears though as soon as I see the billboards in Valenzuela or the mini-skyline formed by SM Pampanga and Robinson's Starmills. For it means, in a few minutes, I would have to face the cruel outside world again. Wushu, andrama, haha!
|