upon learning of my, er, exciting train ride, my best friend from high school texted me: "who would have known na ang 12 pesos na binayaran mo ay inclusive of adventure?"
clockwise from top left:
1) although i was vain enough to document the whole experience, i was obviously not a happy camper.
2) the road less travelled.
3) fellow refugees. to the right is edsa. somewhere to the left, i realized upon seeing this picture again, is my high school. i therefore deduce that the negative vibes from my high school caused the entire mishap. decades of stockpiled teenage repression can be a very potent force.
which reminds me that while i was going through this whole thing, i kept on thinking of this cheesy holocaust movie that my high school history teacher made us watch. it was called escape from sobibor and i remember nothing about it except that "sobibor" sounds like a place you'd really want to escape from.
4) arriving at our final destination: the guadalupe station. quite aptly, a billboard affixed to the wall of the san carlos seminary shows a man with an encouraging expression and the words "tara na, pinoy!".
5) chaos upon arrival.
the pictures don't show the cold, pouring rain, the kids and senior citizens walking on the tracks, the pregnant woman beside me having to leap from the train to the tracks, the person at the guadalupe station who fired a gun (i think it was a security guard), and the rush of people who didn't bother to stay and wait to be compensated or explained to--probably because they know life in manila far too well to expect such indulgences.
one of those people was me.
i must say i was just so glad i did not wear heels that day, and that i was carrying a big suede bag that protected my stuff from the rain. my white capri pants got totally mucked up and soaked, thus exhibiting my purple thong with silkscreened sheep to the legions trudging behind me.
i decided to hop on a bus to megamall to buy a skirt to change into (also known as retail therapy). the damage was rather severe for a locally made skirt (php 950 at plains and prints), but i reasoned to myself that i deserved it.
while picking out a bag to bring to work the next day, i decided to use a big, mustard-colored messenger bag i hadn't used in about a year. i opened the wallet that i had chained to the inside of the bag, and was tickled to find two crisp, apparently long-forgotten five-hundred peso bills.
voila! free skirt.
1) although i was vain enough to document the whole experience, i was obviously not a happy camper.
2) the road less travelled.
3) fellow refugees. to the right is edsa. somewhere to the left, i realized upon seeing this picture again, is my high school. i therefore deduce that the negative vibes from my high school caused the entire mishap. decades of stockpiled teenage repression can be a very potent force.
which reminds me that while i was going through this whole thing, i kept on thinking of this cheesy holocaust movie that my high school history teacher made us watch. it was called escape from sobibor and i remember nothing about it except that "sobibor" sounds like a place you'd really want to escape from.
4) arriving at our final destination: the guadalupe station. quite aptly, a billboard affixed to the wall of the san carlos seminary shows a man with an encouraging expression and the words "tara na, pinoy!".
5) chaos upon arrival.
the pictures don't show the cold, pouring rain, the kids and senior citizens walking on the tracks, the pregnant woman beside me having to leap from the train to the tracks, the person at the guadalupe station who fired a gun (i think it was a security guard), and the rush of people who didn't bother to stay and wait to be compensated or explained to--probably because they know life in manila far too well to expect such indulgences.
one of those people was me.
i must say i was just so glad i did not wear heels that day, and that i was carrying a big suede bag that protected my stuff from the rain. my white capri pants got totally mucked up and soaked, thus exhibiting my purple thong with silkscreened sheep to the legions trudging behind me.
i decided to hop on a bus to megamall to buy a skirt to change into (also known as retail therapy). the damage was rather severe for a locally made skirt (php 950 at plains and prints), but i reasoned to myself that i deserved it.
while picking out a bag to bring to work the next day, i decided to use a big, mustard-colored messenger bag i hadn't used in about a year. i opened the wallet that i had chained to the inside of the bag, and was tickled to find two crisp, apparently long-forgotten five-hundred peso bills.
voila! free skirt.
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