Commuting under the “new normal”

Nowadays, even though it’s not as strict as during the heights of the pandemic, commuting in Metro Manila remains a nightmare specially for the working public.

Some public utility vehicles (PUVs) have been allowed to travel but with limited capacity. For jeepneys, which is the most common public transport, drivers are required to have those makeshift plastic barriers inside to maintain social distancing. And from the usual 16-18 passengers, they had to reduce it to 10-12 or less depending on the size of the jeep to maintain the distance.

To be honest, it took me awhile to ride the jeepney again. If there’s one bad side that this pandemic has brought anyone, it’s being anxious and paranoid.

Since March 2020, I’ve only ridden the jeepney for 3-5 times or maybe less. I will only ride the jeep if one, there’s just really few people inside; and two, if it’s raining. I would give up the second condition if the jeepney is crowded.

And between riding a taxi or a jeepney, the latter is safer because it’s not airconditioned. Air can rotate continuously.

Still the best option for me is either to ride a bike or just walk. I walk going to the mall, to the park, to the market, which usually takes me 30 minutes to an hour.

Lucky for me, my office is just a 10-minute walk from where I live. And I love walking.

But for others, the usual one-hour travel pre-pandemic time, takes longer due to limited supply. It is also more expensive to travel due to limited choices. 

Ephemeral

“even
in the loneliest moments

i have been there
for myself.”

― Sanober Khan

A few hours before we headed back to the city, I found myself standing in front of an empty paddy field looking at the horizon. I was blinded by the striking image.

Our crew was wrapping up and we were instructed to go back to the vehicle so as not to get caught in the traffic. The sun has just set, and the sky was bursting with an assortment of striking colors. There were blue and red, a tinge of magenta, yellow, orange but mostly a splash of fiery colors. For some seconds, everything looked like the surrounding was buttered in golden yellow. I did not budge from where I stood. I took my camera and did a time lapse.

One of the crew members was shouting my name asking me to hurry up! But I stood on my ground. I couldn’t let go.

I stayed until the colors were gone. It was a few minutes, and they were gone. The horizon darkened without a trace of what were there a few minutes ago.

One of the crew was in a bad mood. But I was smiling the whole time we were traveling. It was too beautiful to let it pass. Life is too beautiful to just let it pass.

My Atomic (Bomb) Habit

In James Clear’s Atomic Habits, he mentioned how “habits are like the atoms of our lives. Each one is a fundamental unit that contributes to your overall improvement. At first, these tiny routines seem insignificant, but soon they build on each other and fuel bigger wins that multiply to a degree that far outweighs the cost of their initial investment. They are both small and mighty.”

Last year, during the height of the pandemic, when everyone was encouraged to stay inside their houses due to the coronavirus scare, I have developed two habits: plants and books. But of out of these two, buying and hoarding books has become the most addictive for me.

One of the industries that really flourished during the pandemic was the online selling. Everything, from food, house supplies, clothes to just about anything you could think of…can be ordered and delivered at your doorstep.

When it comes to online books, whether it’s new or secondhand, I made sure I am part of it. I discovered that I can get really good titles for half or even a fourth of the original price. And usually, because books are sold cheap, there were many buyers. The technique is to buy it ahead of the other customers and be there ahead of the uploading time. Also, you need to have a fast Internet connection to beat the other buyers. First to comment “mine” usually gets the book. It was fun and fulfilling especially if you get the title that you really want.

I have acquired quite a few titles because of this habit. Nah, not a few…a lot! My TBR has tripled its usual size. My room is a scattered version of brain. There are books everywhere. But I am happy, so who cares. ^_^

“Foodemic” (Street food in the time of pandemic)

Street food is a thriving culture in the Philippines, and across other Southeast Asian (SE) countries. What makes each unique is reflected on the traditional local cultures and the diversity of raw materials that can be turned in an endless variety of delight.

Before, when I travel to SE countries, one of the first things I make sure to try, are the street foods. It’s cheap, convenient, and it’s a great way to get to know a country’s culture. In the Philippines, the choices are endless.

The big caveat, though is that, I am not as “adventurous” when it comes to street food. I can only try those that I think are “okay” for me to eat. I can’t eat insects, sorry. I also have very limited cravings when it comes to meat (protein). I am not a fan of beef or any food with beef in it. I am such a spoilsport.

One of the things I noticed is that, the street food industry continues to thrive even amid the pandemic. For one, they don’t need to rent a space and would just usually pop in areas where there are “regulars” like nearby offices and establishments. And because it’s done in an open space, vendors can cook and take orders within a socially distanced space.

I walk from work to my apartment and would come across this little stall that sell my favorite street foods. And I can smell them from a mile away. It sells my favorite street food: bbq (pork barbecue), isaw (chicken intestine), and tenga (pig’s ear). I like ‘em really toasted on grill. My day ends with these treats.

Waffling

During the height of the pandemic many restaurants here have closed down. I work in a city that is surrounded by this kind of business, so I was overwhelmed when one by one, they started disappearing. Most of them have been part of my daily routine.

I don’t usually cook when I am crammed with work so, coffeeshops and cafes have been my-go-to places if I wanted to extend my working hours.

We still live in the pandemic, but unlike last year, many of these restaurants are slowly opening to public, provided that they follow certain government protocols.

One of my go-to places is this artisanal café that serves (deconstructed) waffle. The café serves waffle not as a dessert but as a savory dish.

The other day, I was really craving for waffle and was served with this — a huge plate of waffle bedded with slices of mangoes, tomatoes, green leaf with a slab of crispy pork belly on top.

I was staring at the dish and never wanting to eat it.

Rain City

I live in a city of extreme. It’s either too sunny or rainy. But between the two, I feel most excited when it rains. Not the stormy type but just the normal rain.

So, while everyone loves to curl up in their beds and sleep or sip a hot choco while it’s raining, I am on the street taking photos.

Shooting street scenes during a pouring rain has become an indulging activity. It’s weird I know but there’s certain fulfilment that can be achieved once you’ve come up with an image that you’ve only conjured in your head.

During the last quarter of 2020, I’ve become a flâ·neur. Literally sauntering in the street searching for unmediated chance of encounters and random incidents.

Rainy night is the most magical time to do street photography, but it’s also the most challenging. The interplay of shadow, motion and light coming from the moving vehicles is as cinematic as when you captured a magical moment to perpetuate.

I live in a city of extreme. It’s either rainy or sunny. I am most happy when it rains.

Cosmos are cosmic!

Once, when I was in Korea, a friend brought us to a flower festival in Jeongeup City, a two-hour drive from Jeonju. To be honest, I was not expecting much. I am not a fan of flowers. I like to photograph them but that’s about it.

But when we arrive in Jeongeup and saw the field of cosmos, I felt like a kid who was offered a big, sweet, yummy lollipop! My friend’s initial instinct was to approach, smell and admire each one of them. I, on one hand, took a camera and thought of every frame I could exhaust to capture the moment. I did try smelling the cosmos afterward. It smells “peace” – I could be wrong but I have associated its smell with the lavender, which I doubt if anyone would agree. I love the smell of lavender. It gives me this unexplainable peace. I just love them.

 

Cosmos can be a little floppy and unruly. A girl would love a rose or a tulip but I would appreciate cosmos, a field of them. Their stalks are stubborn, they are not easy to pick. They are not much fun to be around in single but when you have them in bundles or in groups, they explode in goodness. I feel their essence. They are stellar!

Literally, when I saw a bed of cosmos, my heart explodes so much so that I didn’t want to leave the place.

Waiting

“I hate waiting! Who doesn’t?”

Between me and my friend, I am usually the one who is on time or at least 30 minutes ahead of his arrival. I would often hear these words, “I am so sorry, the traffic was just nasty!” or this, “Oh my goodness, the parking was terrible, I have to wait for at least 10 minutes for vacancy!” or this… “I know this is lame, but sorry I am late, no reason, it’s just me. It’s just that, the alarm…”

He is always late period.

But I love him so waiting is an ordeal that I am [forced] to like just because it’s him that I am waiting for. It is like going to your favorite resto. You know that they take an awful lot of time before they can serve your food but you still go there because you love the food there and it tastes different anywhere else. It is a masochistic thing on my part but I have learned to wait in the most painful, awkward kind of way.

In a world where everything is “instant” – instant food, instant email reply, instant relationship, etc., I have learned to delay self-gratification. As long as I am aware of what and who am I waiting for…I am willing to take the time.

This attitude, I think, is NOT normal. But that’s how I was trained.

I always think of that marshmallow commercial wherein 2-3 of kids were told to wait and if they can wait, they will be given another marshmallow as a reward. I think a couple of them couldn’t delay their gratification and just ate the whole marshmallow as soon as the adult left in the room. One of them waited and got another one marshmallow as a reward.

The first time I saw this study, I told myself, “but they’re just kids!” I was trying to justify the actions of the two kids although in my heart, I knew I was the kid who did not eat the marshmallow. I was into the “reward”.

As an adult, my focus is still on the reward.

 

“Forgettable”

I have a forgettable face. I have realized this as early as elementary when I had to introduce myself during the first day of class. I was supposed to say my name, age, and where I am from. Statements of facts are the most boring things to say. No one really remembers your name during the first day, unless you’re pretty, rich, famous or smart. I was none of that. The teacher would remember everyone, except me. I looked so ordinary that I almost looked like everyone else, a girl in uniform with her shoulder-length black hair, and a pair of slit eyes that sheepishly looks down when spoken to.

There’s nothing astounding about me. It was perhaps the reason why I am forgettable. I am ordinary and I look like everyone else. Even my answers were average. While other’s answer would have follow-up questions from the teacher, either for clarification or in search for more inquiry, mine would usually get the “ahh!” or “okay, you may sit down”.

I never stood out in a crowd. I am usually eaten by the crowd. I guess that makes my “ordinariness” so oblivious that no one would even notice I even existed in this world.

Do not get me wrong. I do not despise being forgettable. That is who I am. While there are people who are unforgettable, there is also a fraction of the population that is difficult to remember. I belong to that fraction of forgettable people. I walk on this earth to physically exist but never to resurface in somebody else’s mind or memory.

Perhaps there is only one instance that I’ve hated my forgettable face.

When you meet the love of your life, all you wanted was to become the most unforgettable face for him. So unforgettable that he would recognize me even if I was to walk backward or sideway on the street; or even it was just my voice that he has to hear, or my handwriting that he has seen. I wanted to be the most unforgettable person that he will ever meet. But I guess, that would be asking too much.

I needed to make an effort to be unforgettable. I needed to say something so he wouldn’t forget. I needed to put up a face so that I could make even the tiniest mark in his memory, or perhaps a remarkable gesture that would make him extra curious. These were all efforts for me. For a person who has accepted the fact that she is forgettable and has lived a life of it, making herself stand out is an effort to reckon with. To him, I am just someone he met randomly. To him, my existence is just a fleeting memory.

(rayts/02072017/jeonju)

A Book Street in Busan

This is like “heaven on earth”, an alley lined with crammed bookshops of all kinds.

During the Korean War, when Busan became the provisional capital, refugees sold and bought books to make a living. This place became a go-to place to buy and sell used books before the publishing industry was fully established and people had higher standards of living.

Now, Bosu-dong Book Street is a famous book street wherein you can buy used and rare books. Prices of books are scaled according to the conditions of the book or bargaining. There are English titles but you need to be a little patient scavenging them from these heaps. I was happy to get two books before I headed back to Jeonju, Gabriel García Márquez ’s Love in the Time of Cholera and Shin Kyung-sook’s Please Look After Mom (in Hangul).