tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85432972024-03-19T02:25:44.582-07:00tambucho-taleslornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543297.post-18414792405715391412013-08-06T07:51:00.001-07:002013-08-06T08:00:40.541-07:00BUS BANTITLE: BUS BAN<br />
TAMBUCHO TALE # 46<br />
DESTINATION: TALABA, <b>BACOOR CITY</b><br />
TRT: ABOUT 45 MINS<br />
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Today marks the implementation day of the provincial bus ban which the local governments and <b><a href="http://mmda.gov.ph/">MMDA</a></b> deem to be the best solution to address the heavy traffic along EDSA. This means no more province-bound buses are allowed to enter EDSA. For a Caviteña like me, this is heartbreaking news. Gone were the Jasper, Saulog, San Agustin and Erjohn & Almark buses that save us time and money from the typically tiring travels from the metro. To top it off, this <i>Kapamilya</i> just decided to cease renting space in Project 4 and go <i>uwian</i> to <b>Bacoor</b> <b>City </b>everyday.<br />
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Actually, leaving Cavite is not an issue for me. From Zapote Kalinisan, I can take a jeepney that would take me to Baclaran (P15). From Zapote Kabila, I can take an airconditioned bus (P18) or a jeepney (P15) that would reach the same destination. From there, I'll take a jeepney to Taft-MRT station (P8) then alight at Quezon Avenue-MRT station (P15 currently and I dread the impending MRT fare hike). But what made me feel upset is the sight of fellow pedestrians crossing from the foot bridge, waiting for buses and taking a long walk to Baclaran. Under the rain, mind you. I could just imagine the hassle this had caused - from employees trying to get to their offices, students to attend their classes and call center agents wanting to go home and sleep right away. I wonder if Chairman Francis Tolentino <b><a href="https://twitter.com/ukgdos/status/364497460283969536">can still smile like that if he's tried bus-hopping himself on a daily basis</a></b>.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNI4t3qFyi0dbL7qMj4nR8Fjv7oqk7qNPsLOMEHfK1WL8t_4SkYKWe97ZwYfAq92aUii0b1Gb_PM9in1SHfusBi8bhO7JsRfLFXmz8kK0FR0fTd6pN2Et2cvLRgZWKmZJDbyCIxw/s1600/20130806_terminal_traffic-EPA_0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNI4t3qFyi0dbL7qMj4nR8Fjv7oqk7qNPsLOMEHfK1WL8t_4SkYKWe97ZwYfAq92aUii0b1Gb_PM9in1SHfusBi8bhO7JsRfLFXmz8kK0FR0fTd6pN2Et2cvLRgZWKmZJDbyCIxw/s320/20130806_terminal_traffic-EPA_0.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Stranded here, there and everywhere! Photo obtained <b><a href="http://www.abs-cbnnews.com/image/nation/metro-manila/08/06/13/provincial-bus-terminal">here</a></b>.</div>
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Now let's talk about my commute home earlier. Before the bus ban, I normally board a Batangas-bound bus (BSC) located just below Taft-MRT station and alight at Talaba. (P25). Out of curiosity, my best friend and I took a jeepney to the SouthWest Provincial Bus Terminal in Coastal Mall (P10) then took another airconditioned bus to <b>Dasmariñas</b> <b>City</b> (P25). Imagine taking this re-route for a month (P10 x 20 working days) and you got yourself P200 deduction from your budget.<br />
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What even appalled me is the absence of light posts along the walking grounds from the jeepney drop-off point to the actual bus terminal. Seems like an encouragement to the pick-pockets in the area. And to think they thought of putting up this installation of a provincial bus a few feet above the ground (sorry, I don't have photos to back this up)! Function <i>muna kasi bago</i> aesthetics!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC8KoFMxNL2pOKH-0pZu285mWUvCIER6pumXM6gai39XemTTHx7f4iAGmUE9y4z2ZvqIUccoTNr0ELg252d1B7RvIv_FLx05BPGo7sIV7Yf2OGZz2gj7Ls_BK_BoVO5-6R85gX1w/s1600/072613-MMDA+set+to+push+through+with+Southwest+terminal.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC8KoFMxNL2pOKH-0pZu285mWUvCIER6pumXM6gai39XemTTHx7f4iAGmUE9y4z2ZvqIUccoTNr0ELg252d1B7RvIv_FLx05BPGo7sIV7Yf2OGZz2gj7Ls_BK_BoVO5-6R85gX1w/s320/072613-MMDA+set+to+push+through+with+Southwest+terminal.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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Inside the provincial bus terminal. Photo obtained <b><a href="http://www.solarnews.ph/news/metro/2013/07/26/mmda-set-to-push-through-with-southwest-terminal#.UgEInJKnr-s">here</a></b>. </div>
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The interiors of the bus terminal seemed spacious enough. But I stopped inspecting as soon as we've found our targeted bus. Actually, it felt chaotic as there were too many familiar buses and we didn't know which one to go to. "Should we go to Saulog or to San Agustin? Wait, Erjohn & Almark still have vacant seats! Ok, let's go for it!" And when we finally reached Talaba, we did a time check and realized this new route costs us the same amount of travel time (45 minutes). </div>
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I therefore conclude that, next time, we'll just take a jeepney bound to DBB-C across Heritage Hotel. It's much less of a hassle. </div>
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Change is good, they say. But I'm hoping THIS would pave the way for better traffic flow and, most importantly, speed up the extension of MRT to Cavite. As far as I am concerned, that's the only great news that can mitigate this issue. </div>
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<br />lornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543297.post-53181659056354563872013-02-27T19:39:00.003-08:002013-02-27T19:41:49.394-08:00ADVERTISING<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">TITLE: ADVERTISING</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">TAMBUCHO TALE #: 44</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">DESTINATION: MRT QUEZON AVE STATION</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">TRT: ABOUT 5 MINS</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've been quite busy the past weeks that my back[b]log continued to pile up. So I'm not surprised that my page views for <a href="http://extraseksi.blogspot.com/">this blog</a> and the engagement on <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Extra-Seksi/288330847889538?sid=0.05970224435441196">my fanpage</a> dropped. My friend provided me with great suggestions on how to address it, but I really need to find time for it. Besides, my favorite way of promoting my blog is still by keeping it updated. Whether effective or not.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Imagine my delight upon seeing this new way of promoting one's blog on MRT. How clever! Way to go, <a href="http://neilarvinjavier.blogspot.com/">Neil Arvin Javier</a>! </span><br />
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<br />lornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543297.post-25892965601842871712012-08-31T00:28:00.000-07:002012-08-31T00:28:04.723-07:00VALIDATIONTITLE: VALIDATION<br />
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 43<br />
DESTINATION: PROJ. 4, KALANTIAW<br />
TRT: ABOUT 10 MINS<br />
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I dislike how uninspired the woman in the mirror looks like for the past weeks. Past months, to be accurate. The top of my hair shows its natural curls while the bottom half presents evidence of rebonding past. It is an absolute shoo-in as BEFORE photo for Brazilian Blowout advertisements. My face is an unevenly bronzed canvass where cystic zits decided to make re-appearing acts on. My eyebrows are crying for threading, my legs and the nether regions for waxing, my nails for manicure and pedicure and my whole body for a four-hour massage. Who would have imagined I'll attract somebody's attention?<br />
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I was about to go home to my rented space from Cubao when this frail guy politely asked if he can take refuge under my umbrella. <strike>El-la el-la eh eh eh. Under my umbrella</strike>. I agreed and let him squeeze in close as we headed together to the jeep terminal. I informed him I was off to Kalantiaw, expecting him to state his destination, too. Instead, he initiated a small talk and shared he used to live in Project 4. He even probed where in Kalantiaw I'm residing. Strike 1.<br />
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His inquiry fell on deaf ears. He didn't seem to protest when his temporary canopy was taking him somewhere beneficial to me alone. So I asked again to which point I should escort him. After all, he can't read my mind why I stated I was off to Kalantiaw, can he? He ignored my question again and I noticed how his eyes darted from my little white dress (often dubbed as <em>pangtulog</em> by some officemates for its flowy feel) down to my legs. This sideway glance made me imagine his accomplice/s behind me, waiting for their cue to attack me and rip off my pussy red bag into tiny shreds upon finding my empty wallet. Strike 2!<br />
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Before I got the chance to ask again for his destination, he was already asking for my beautiful name. That was the last straw. Without even meeting his eyes, I almost sprinted to terminate our conversation. Should I take the Kalantiaw jeep or mislead him? When the Kalantiaw jeep finally left the terminal after an agonizing long wait, I launched a heavy sigh of relief. <br />
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But it wasn't a smooth ride for me. I felt pangs of guilt for leaving a poor guy under the rain. A part of me assures me he's a big bo now and his adrenalin can aid him dash to the nearest shed anyway.<br />
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A female student interrupted this mental tug-of-war and asked me for the fare. I confirmed it's still P8.00. She asked how much it would be for students like her. Was it P6.00 or P7.00? I shrugged in response.<br />
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Then my lips curved into a small smile. To her, I might look like a street-smart lady. To my suddenly-inflated ego, I just look like a college student who face similar budget concerns. Ha!<br />
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lornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543297.post-27506685943442113912012-05-07T22:04:00.001-07:002012-05-07T22:37:42.733-07:00HIT-AND-RUN?TITLE: HIT-AND-RUN?<br />
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 42<br />
DESTINATION: GREENBELT 1<br />
TRT: ABOUT 15 MINS<br />
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I was <strike>running</strike> late for the Sunday service. Upon arrival in Libertad, I hailed a cab and asked the driver to take me to Greenbelt 1 the fastest as he could. To my satisfaction, he did speed up while I busied myself sending the cab's plate number to a number of friends. Then, the vehicle came to a screeching halt. I looked up and saw a pedestrian clumsily pick up what's left of his bagful of <em>bigas</em> (uncooked rice) in the road and limped his way to the sidewalk. We were somewhere in Buendia, before LRT. <br />
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What's going on? The cabbie informed me that the <a href="http://automobiles.honda.com/cr-v/">CR-V</a> flying ahead of us hit the poor guy and left him as rapidly as the driver could in broad daylight. The next thing I knew, we were already chasing after WJW 386 as the cabbie was curious if the person behind the steering wheel happened to be the owner him/herself or a hired driver. I didn't know what to feel upon the discovery that the passengers inside looked like a family. With their sunglasses on, it's hard to predict if they were feeling guilty or if they were simply clueless about what just took place. <br />
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I pinged a friend about it and she encouraged me to report it to the authorities. However, I didn't witness the hit-and-run incident myself. I just saw the aftermath and, sadly, I didn't ask the cabbie to stop over and extend a helping hand to the victim. I asked the cabbie what his plans are about this lead. He didn't see himself recounting the details to the police either. Instead, he was firm to reach out to newsman Tulfo for action.<br />
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Now, I'm not sure which of the Tulfo brothers he intended to approach. I hope it's NOT Mon Tulfo. He has <a href="http://entertainment.inquirer.net/39437/ramon-tulfo-files-raps-vs-santiago-barretto-over-airport-brawl">bigger issues</a> to take care of.lornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543297.post-21144189981087604682011-11-26T09:05:00.000-08:002011-11-26T09:49:56.165-08:00SWEET LOVERTITLE: SWEET LOVER<br />TAMBUCHO TALE #: 41<br />DESTINATION: AYALA AVENUE<br />TRT: ABOUT 20 MINUTES<br /><br />When I hailed the LRT Ayala-bound bus in Libertad, I was the lone passenger. I took my favorite spot - the front seat. The cute bus conductor inquired for my bus stop and I responded. I was about to ready my fare but he didn't reach for the ticket yet. Busily composing a text message, I absentmindedly provided answers to the back-to-back questions regarding my civil status, my place of residence, motivation for having my tongue pierced, frequency of visiting Ayala Avenue and so on. The last question made me cease pushing my keypad and realized how unnecessary the interrogation had become. I reacted with a question where would this probing lead. <br /><br />It seemed he didn't hear me the first time so I repeated I'm currently in a relationship. The bus conductor went on to say that the grinning bus driver, seated next to him and thankfully fixated on the road ahead of us (the bus had other passengers already by this time), would like to obtain my digits. I declined, saying my boxer of a boyfriend would not appreciate it. <br /><br />Then the driver stopped playing a mute role and hinted that if he were my boyfriend, he'll make sure I don't go unescorted to places. I can't help but laugh. The last time I checked, I'm far from being a clingy girlfriend plus he's engaged saving the world one boxing student at a time. The bus conductor was convinced that there's no competition at all between this boxer vs. bus driver bout. He went on to remind me of that annoying cliche that drivers are sweet lovers and asked how was it to have a boxer as a boyfriend. With much conviction, I told them: "<span style="font-style:italic;">Yun ang totoong</span> sweet lover!"lornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543297.post-22377266316705057092011-11-02T18:16:00.000-07:002011-11-26T09:06:18.380-08:00GAYA GAYATITLE: GAYA GAYA<br />TAMBUCHO TALE #: 33<br />DESTINATION: TALABA<br />TRT: ABOUT 35 MINUTES<br /><br />Remember <a href="http://tambucho-tales.blogspot.com/2010/08/discovery.html">this entry</a>? I ended up cancelling my plans for a long walk from PBCom along Ayala Avenue to Tropical Hut along Sen, Gil Puyat Avenue when I spotted a <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/BSC-Group-of-Transport/157655644285464?sk=wall">BSC Golden Dragon</a> bus with a signboard that reads <span style="font-weight:bold;">PALA PALA, DASMARIñAS</span> this morning instead of the usual Erjohn & Almark. I had to ask <a href="http://twitter/#!/ryomabear">Marz</a> if I were imagining things.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/markstopover_002/5036283094/" title="Bat Man by markstopover_002, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4112/5036283094_e52d124992_m.jpg" width="240" height="186" alt="Bat Man"></a><br />My new best friend! Photo lifted <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/markstopover_002/5036283094/">here</a>.<br /><br />This was definitely good news! This means that we Caviteños have a growing number of buses to take us to and from Makati. With Erjohn monopolizing the yuppies and not-yuppies-anymore market in Cavite (until today), you could just imagine the violent scenarios when commuters squeeze themselves inside! Aside from that, I've always been a fan of BSC Golden Dragon for its consistently clean interiors and ample legroom. To my surprise, the Ayala Avenue-Talaba, Bacoor fare amounted to only P25. I remember shelling out P28 for the Ayala Avenue-Baclaran distance eons ago. Competitive pricing, it is!. Clap, clap, clap!<br /><br />I had a hard time taking a nap during the ride home. It was too good to be true!lornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543297.post-76934182510211390122011-08-21T01:53:00.000-07:002011-08-21T03:25:49.139-07:00HEARING AIDTITLE: HEARING AID
<br />TAMBUCHO TALE #: 39
<br />DESTINATION: SEN. GIL PUYAT AVE.
<br />TRT: THE LONGEST 10 MINS EVER!
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<br />It was our lunch break. For nocturnal corporate slaves like us, that's sometime between 1:30-2:30am. Abby, Lady, Edric, Gary and I all agreed to give the so-near-yet-so-far Tokyo Tokyo in People Support Center a visit. I'm typically up for the long walk, but that early morning, I'd rather squeeze my eyelids shut, snap my fingers and get transported to the mentioned fastfood joint even before I get to say, "<span style="font-style:italic;">Nuknukan sa liit ang</span> kani salad <span style="font-style:italic;">niyo</span>!" Fortunately, they echoed my desires.
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<br />As the biggest among us, I got myself seated next to the cabbie. I told him we'd like to get to Tokyo Tokyo. Considering our office was just along Ayala Avenue, it should be as easy as 1-2-3. Then, Lady changed her mind and said we can dine in Tropical Hut instead. I repeated what she said for the cabbie in my typically loud voice and assumed that he understood where we're headed.
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<br />And so we continued with our chatter. I noticed the cabbie made an unnecessary pause and directed his car as if he'd do a left turn to Salcedo St. I don't claim to be an expert in Makati short-cuts, but I am yet to see the best way to Tropical Hut from that area. I remember "suggesting", "What if <span style="font-style:italic;">sa</span> Army Navy (in Dela Rosa St.) <span style="font-style:italic;">na lang tayo mag</span>-lunch?" Somebody laughingly reacted, "<span style="font-style:italic;">Nag</span>-cab <span style="font-style:italic;">pa tayo kung doon pala tayo kakain</span>!" And so the cabbie turned to the left. OK, fine.
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<br />We got engaged in an animated conversation again until I noticed Edric started to play a mute role and suppress his occasional tendency to transform a la <a href="http://marvel.com/universe/Hulk_(Bruce_Banner)">The Hulk</a> to happen. I turned around to see the view outside and realized we're headed to the wrong direction. Me and my big mouth can't help it. "<span style="font-style:italic;">Kuya! Hindi po sa</span> Little Tokyo! Tokyo Tokyo <span style="font-style:italic;">dapat tayo kanina! Pero</span> Tropical Hut <span style="font-style:italic;">na</span>!"
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<br />Looking back, I don't remember if he offered an apology or just scratched his head and asked for directions or what. I remember Abby mockingly suggested "<span style="font-style:italic;">Dyan na lang sa</span> King's Court! <span style="font-style:italic;">Kina</span> Gary <span style="font-style:italic;">na lang tayo kumain</span>!" while we're en route to Pasong Tamo. At that point, Edric continued to act like a volcanic eruption waiting to happen. When we finally arrived, the fare amounted to P70+.
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<br />After enjoying our meal, we initially decided to go for a long walk to avoid any Tourette's Syndrome-inducing encounters with a cabbie again. But it started to drizzle and, for Lady's benefit, we hailed the first cab that emerged out of the darkness. Guess what? Our trip to Valero St. was a breeze and the bill just amounted to P50+.
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<br />Insert cuss words here.
<br />lornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543297.post-63067514152356881472011-05-28T09:05:00.000-07:002011-05-28T09:19:35.020-07:00CROTCHTITLE: CROTCH<br />TAMBUCHO TALE #: 38<br />DESTINATION: SAN NICOLAS<br />TRT: 15 MINS<br /><br />I was down to my last jeepney ride after OT that morning. I was already seated in the <span style="font-style:italic;">estribo</span> and engaged in a chat with an officemate seated across me. All of a sudden, my short attention span directed me to meet the eyes of a passing baby bus (yup, the ones in Cavite) conductor outside. He yelled, "<span style="font-style:italic;">Sakay na</span>!" while motioning to his crotch. And... I must admit my reflex made my eyes follow his hands. Then I felt disgust spread all over my exhausted body.<br /><br />Why am I so <span style="font-style:italic;">bastusin</span>?!lornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543297.post-39620344147489948622011-03-07T07:52:00.000-08:002011-03-07T10:32:12.038-08:00STRANDEDTITLE: STRANDED<br />TAMBUCHO TALE #: 37<br />DESTINATION: TALABA<br />TRT: 15 MINS<br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Tonight, the office expects me to rise above the knee sprain that slightly crippled me for a solid week and bright up the back-breaking black hole we all love to loathe. If it were as tragic as my <a href="http://extraseksi.blogspot.com/2011/03/how-to-break-your-kneecap.html">kneecap dislocation and meniscus tear episode</a> almost two years ago, I would be asking for one more month to fully recuperate. Since I felt 1.) blessed my poor knee wasn't that messed up this time, 2.) obliged to work on my backlog and 3.) impatient to finally execute a 7-day overdue world premiere of an <span style="font-style: italic;">ukay ukay</span> find, I found myself eager to go back to work. In fact, I, renowned for my consistent tardiness, left an hour earlier than the usual. That way, I can have the sweet silence in the workplace by myself to focus on my tasks. <span style="font-style: italic;">Oha</span>!<br /><br />On second thought, this afternoon's <a href="http://foursquare.com/lornadahlrymple/checkin/4d746b118a026a31687e8c84">rehab session</a> practically made the swelling in my right knee disappear. I felt reeeally better and stronger to conquer anything after. My therapist-turned-friend reiterated the rehab doctor's instruction for me to use a single tip cane for walking and, knowing I'm too <span style="font-style: italic;">kikay</span> to be seen with such in public, advised I may use an umbrella instead. She also hinted she was not happy to see me again in the confines of the hospital. So I better take heed!<br /><br />I removed the folded umbrella from my huge bag and practiced with my own <a href="http://www.thisnext.com/item/64C09A02/Clear-Rain-Umbrella">Lost in Translation umbrella</a> before leaving. I found it not sturdy enough to rely on and dismissed the idea. Before pushing the gate door open, I paused to deliberate if I must recollect the folded umbrella. Considering the great amount of sunshine today, I deduced I would only use it as canopy on my commute home. With my sunglasses already deposited in my bag, I changed my mind. I was in a hurry, remember?<br /><br />To my shock, the skies started throwing a river of tears and occasional yet frightening thunderbolts while I was in a jeepney en route to Talaba. I realized how scared I was when a fellow passenger gave me a will-you-calm-down-please stare after I muttered, "This can't be happening,"<br /><br />A few feet away from Talaba, the traffic light turned red. I was tempted to linger inside the jeep to remain dry but, knowing my inability to leap like a frog if the lights go green, I thought it will be more risky if I do so. Neither was I confident I could sprint from the jeepney stop (near Tropical Hut) to the bus stop (to Baclaran and beyond) on opposing ends if it were Aguinaldo Highway that separates them. I opted to step down as gingerly as possible and limped to the nearest roof I can find.<br /><br />Traffic light went red, green and back. Other motorists came and went. The water continued to rise. I felt the downpour coupled by the harsh winds on my back and my lower limbs. The longer I stood there, the more I got reminded of the energy I exerted in walking from my residence to the waiting shed outside our subdivision because I couldn't locate a pedicab. I can also hear my orthopedist's voice, asking me to avoid any weight-bearing activities, namely prolonged standing position. I felt the corner of my eyes water in self-pity and desperation.<br /><br />Then, I saw the old man part his curtains to observe the direction of the wind. Since I took too much space, it was inevitable for his eyes to meet mine. We exchanged smiles. My instincts urged me to beg for help right away but I wasn't sure if I appeared trustworthy enough. I convinced myself that the rain will cease very soon. And I can still go on. It's all in the mind!<br /><br />However, I could not tolerate the chills and the growing fatigue on my knee anymore. I knocked on the door and inquired if I may take refuge from the hellish rain. He readily agreed even if I was just about to explain my knee sprain. I didn't wait to be asked to be seated anymore. I claimed the nearest monobloc chair I saw and placed my waterproof bag on the other. Amidst my sighs of relief, I managed to inform him why I badly needed a seat. NOW I can update my Facebook, Plurk and Twitter status!<br /><br />From my vantage point, I saw the entry of water to the main door and the exit door. He said it was the first time such thing happened and blamed the recent road construction for such instant flood. By the time his wife arrived, the rain remained unabated and the water pushed its way inside the house. She even asked me to move from the monobloc chair to the couch so I could stretch my poor legs and feel better.<br /><br />After I had declared my whereabouts for my contacts on the abovementioned social networking sites to know, I realized the other functions of <a href="http://myphone.com.ph/product_info.php?products_id=21&osCsid=9a5fsus2d5fjkchm8g079nddm1">my phone</a>. I sent messages to my parents that I was stranded and an old couple let me in for the meantime. To my surprise, they responded with a call to locate me so they can pick me up. That's when I realized I need a new phone. Evidently, this is NOT for emergency cases! I've dropped mine countless times already to the point that I have to put my callers on speaker phone so I can hear them. All the time! When I drop them again, the phone is reduced to <a href="http://www.lego.com/en-us/Default.aspx">Lego</a> bricks. Except that they're far from cute.<br /><br />Just like an answered prayer, both my parents appeared outside my temporary igloo for tonight and showered the old man with words of gratitude. I felt tears of joy well up in my eyes before I thanked him for the nth time. It was such a reassuring moment to see my parents and the <a href="http://apps.facebook.com/dogbook/profile/view/5483792">spoiled furball</a> rescue me.<br /><br />Now that I'm in the warm comfort of home, I felt sorry for the indoor pool I left behind and the inability to assist them move pieces of furniture earlier. Someday, I will be able to swing by and express my gratitude one more time. Thank God for kind souls!</div>lornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543297.post-3790478899079208552011-02-18T02:53:00.000-08:002011-02-18T04:20:46.580-08:00PROWLTITLE: PROWL<br />TAMBUCHO TALE #: 36<br />DESTINATION: BACLARAN<br />TRT: 20 MINS<br /><br />I was attending the Roque-Amoroso wedding in the <a href="http://thevillagepatio.multiply.com/">Village Patio</a> that early evening. However, I had a very early call time at my friend's <a href="http://foursquare.com/venue/17057020">salon</a> in Kamias that morning.<br /><br />I was in a daze during the moderately quick trip to Baclaran from Talaba except for the momentary interruption when the passenger seated next to me reminded the bus conductor about his change. The latter asked for his destination yet the guy in black sando reacted he gave P100 bill. The conductor didn't seem to mind and just repeated his question. After a pause, he finally answered he's bound to Pedro Gil. The conductor continued, "<span style="font-style:italic;">Galing ka ng</span> Naic, <span style="font-style:italic;">diba</span>?" My seatmate nodded. <br /><br />The next thing I knew, he turned to me and asked for my mobile number. I gave him a shocked look. That's it? Asking for my digits as if it were as normal as asking for the time? He echoed his all-important inquiry. I shook my head. He turned to the window as casually as he did when he attempted to obtain my contact information.<br /><br />I was relieved that my bus stop was just less than 5 minutes away. That was downright uncomfortable.<br /><br />That's just weird. Sure, he probably had reasons to be attracted to my fresh aura in low-cut brown blouse, plaid shorts, slightly wet hair and <a href="http://www.kama.co.nz/shop/Incense/Sandesh+Agarbathi+Co/Kamasutra+Long+Sticks.html">Kama sutra scent</a>. And I was grateful for the unexpected ego boost. <br /><br />But the romantic sap in me was hoping for some sort of engaging verbal foreplay like what I have experienced <a href="http://tambucho-tales.blogspot.com/2005/05/kitikitxt.html">here</a>. Or something insane like getting involved in a stare down to a fellow passenger while being surrounded by distracting noise and the manic crowd fighting for space. Then the guy would wordlessly hand over his phone so you can type in your digits. Then he'd wait for you to exit the train amidst the sea of commuters and invite you to a coffee date. Assuming that's possible between two straight people, of course.<br /><br />It was Valentine's Day eve and, yeah, love must be in the air. But if he really wanted to score a date, he could have at least done something else. Or asked somebody else.lornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543297.post-71038915767543110462011-01-28T01:34:00.000-08:002011-01-31T01:18:39.061-08:00BUS BLASTTITLE: BUS BLAST<br />TAMBUCHO TALE #: 35<br />DESTINATION: AYALA AVE.<br />TRT: 40 MINS.<br /><br />As if last year's <a href="http://newsinfo.inquirer.net/inquirerheadlines/nation/view/20100824-288458/Bloodbath-at-Rizal-Park">hostage drama</a> that catapulted the entire nation to worldwide scrutiny and the parade of <a href="http://www.mb.com.ph/articles/300148/alleged-mastermind-car-dealers-brutal-killings-yields-police">carjacking-related murders</a> that started this year were not enough, here comes the recent <a href="http://www.mb.com.ph/articles/300560/2-killed-17-injured-bus-explodes-along-edsabuendia">bus blast</a> that claimed 4 innocent lives. And the world laments in unison, "Scary times!"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh38Mxk7mrJHxm1YnksGIVFwOZ4bkyLlteoOIFCpcZUse4cqBCpX9e5D1H0I4rA-QqkZikVoMVuC6m-lEpdR7X4GhGsRWETdA4TWXQgZVvuWVZ30ATnu9aJYF39tFM_5PxNPI_6cw/s1600/bus_blast.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh38Mxk7mrJHxm1YnksGIVFwOZ4bkyLlteoOIFCpcZUse4cqBCpX9e5D1H0I4rA-QqkZikVoMVuC6m-lEpdR7X4GhGsRWETdA4TWXQgZVvuWVZ30ATnu9aJYF39tFM_5PxNPI_6cw/s320/bus_blast.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567176750537917954" /></a><br />Photo from <a href="http://www.thepeninsulaqatar.com/s.-asia/philippines/140387-four-killed-in-manila-bus-blast.html">The Peninsula</a>.<br /><br />See, I know what it's like to be too traumatized to use public transport after <a href="http://scorpionsyrup.us.splinder.com/post/238561#238561">what I have endured</a> before. But it really crushed me to hear fellow Filipinos react that they're hesitant to come back to the inevitable carnage that awaits them here or they do not want to take a bus again for potential bombings, the cabs for potential hold-ups or overcharging hell, the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manila_Metro_Rail_Transit_System">MRT</a> for its price hike and the likes. <br /><br />That night, I took a bus. As I have affirmed <a href="http://api.twitter.com/Lornadahlrymple/status/29891102211313664">here</a>, I believe in the kindness among us. And I prayed for the departed souls, the loved ones they left behind, the survivors whose lives will be forever marred by this terrorist act, for the authorities to remain fueled in their investigation, for the entire nation to heal and, lastly, for the mastermind/s and the henchmen. <br /><br />You may argue it's easy for me to say, considering I have no lost limbs nor loved ones resulting to this violent act. But that's exactly how I managed to lift my hands and offer a prayer. And that's exactly why I'm blogging about this, I wish to encourage everyone to do the same. I wish for us to heal.<br /><br /><blockquote>"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing." - Edward Burke</blockquote> <br /><br />I also hope we would join hands and act on the survivors' needs and plot preventive measures for everybody's security. Let's not tolerate the explosion, let's not let the suspects get away with this and let's not blame the government for their struggle to solve it. There's something we can do somewhere. Let's do our part.lornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543297.post-30572314344166524022011-01-23T05:02:00.000-08:002011-01-28T02:56:23.817-08:00OPLAN ISNABERONG TAXITITLE: OPLAN ISNABERONG TAXI<br />TAMBUCHO TALE #: 34<br />DESTINATION: VALERO, MAKATI<br />TRT: 15 MINUTES<br /><br />Hearing about <a href="http://www.abs-cbnnews.com/video/nation/12/10/10/%E2%80%98oplan-isnabero%E2%80%99-launched-vs-choosy-cabbies">Oplan Isnabero</a> was a relief. At last, passengers have the power to get back at the choosy cabbies! I'm rubbing my hands together in Satanic glee here.<br /><br />Commuting to work during the New Year's eve proved to be difficult. My usual one-bus-ride-to-work route had to reconsidered; Erjohn & Almark buses seemed to observe the holidays. When I reached Baclaran, I went looking for a cab. And so did about 20 more passengers. The competition was stiff!<br /><br />The first cabbie was fully aware of how he can take advantage of the situation. He charged me P100 for a ride to Valero, Makati that typically cost me around P80. He declined to use the meter, too. What a jerk! <br /><br />After a couple more minutes of waiting, an angel appeared in front of me and readily nodded when I declared my destination. Inexplicably happy for this, I even initiated a small talk and admired his intention to welcome 2011 with his family then go back on his hunt for passengers during the wee hours. He foresaw a great number of party-goers and call center employees that would need a ride home.<br /><br />While we were engaged in this conversation, I sent my complaint against the former cabbie to the <a href="http://twitter.com/ANCALERTS/status/19720135904337920">hotline</a>. I sent this message: <br /><br /><blockquote>Hi, I would like to report TXH 162. The cab driver charged P100 for a ride from Baclaran to Valero, Makati. He refused to use the meter.</blockquote><br /><br />When I arrived safely in front of my office building, I paid him P150 for a ride that only amounted to P90. He seemed shocked for this random act of generosity and I know I felt doubly happier than he did. Should the hotline be limited to complaints alone? I wasn't sure but I went ahead and sent them a kudos message that said:<br /><br /><blockquote>Hi, I would like to commend the TWW 401 cabbie. He didn't set the cost for the ride. Thank you.</blockquote><br /><br />Sadly, I did NOT receive any confirmatory message stating they will reprimand the concerned cabbie and/or clarify they do not accept commendations. I'm crossing my fingers they would take time to do so.lornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543297.post-58009077901046475682011-01-12T18:26:00.000-08:002011-01-12T19:36:53.433-08:00SHUT UPTITLE: SHUT UP<br />TMABUCHO TALE #: 33<br />DESTINATION: BATANGAS ST., MAKATI<br />TRT: 20 MINUTES<br /><br />It was Saturday morning. I logged out from last night's training in the faraway land of Eastwood at 5AM then met up with <a href="http://www.shielabarrameda.blogspot.com/">Shiela</a> for a birthday breakfast date in Ayala Ave in Makati. Next in line? Gown fitting for <a href="http://www.postcrossing.com/user/lmjgp">Ina</a>'s vintage Filipiñana wedding. Then last-minute bazaar visit for kaftan-hunting in preparation for our team building in Boracay. Then dinner date with <a href="http://www.ikapati.com/">Fristine</a> in <a href="http://ilovewabisabi.multiply.com">Wabi-Sabi</a> to claim my wedding invitation, among others. Yes, I'm one busy woman with loads of energy. Or so I thought!<br /><br />When I bade farewell to Shiela that morning, I felt quite worn out already. Just my luck, caffeine fix was not enough. Coupled with this urge to invalidate Ina's conviction that I was consistently tardy, I hailed a cab to be transported immediately to <a href="http://www.nonopalmos.com/">Nono Palmos</a>'s shop even before she arrives. I wanted to be the one to open the door for her and surprise her.<br /><br />However, the cosmos had other plans. In spite of the heavy traffic that should had kept my pulse racing in suspense, I felt being lulled to sleep. I jokingly told the cabbie, "<span style="font-style:italic;">Kuya, pakigising na lang ako kapag andun na tayo</span>," then proceeded to play dead.<br /><br />To my horror, he reacted: "Ma'am, '<span style="font-style:italic;">wag po kayong matulog! Lalo kayong tataba</span>!" <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Tang inang hindot, diba</span>?!<br /><br />Beats me why he didn't come to his senses after my apparent disapproval of his quip. For some strange reason, he even felt licensed to press for more answers. His follow-up questions were: "<span style="font-style:italic;">Ilan na po anak niyo, Ma'am? Ah wala pa? May asawa na po kayo</span>?"<br /><br />By then, I was a portrait of silent wrath. Still, he paid no attention.<br /><br />When the cab came into a halt, I did not bother to give him any tip and slammed the car door while he was halfway in his last attempt to establish rapport. <br /><br />I was already awake.lornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543297.post-61272872658030411742010-09-05T04:37:00.000-07:002010-09-05T04:58:18.650-07:00QUEUETITLE: QUEUE<br />TAMBUCHO TALE #: 32<br />DESTINATION: MRT-TAFT<br />TRT: 30 MINUTES<br /><br />After spending the weekend at <a href="http://www.consiglieresolutions.com">Donna</a>’s place in Faaarview for nursing my chest pains and fever (that won’t happen) after our <a href="http://bonfiresphilippines.wordpress.com/2010/08/15/37/">breast cancer awareness gig</a>, I was quite eager to go home to the South that Sunday evening. I stunk! <br /><br />My friend <a href="http://icequeen09.multiply.com/">Danna</a> and I took the MRT route. While we were in the elevator in MRT-North Ave, there was this middle-aged foreigner who suddenly asked if this were the way to Makati. Danna and I nodded in response to his question probably addressed to all passengers inside. In recollection, it was a stupid question as North Ave is the last North-bound station. All cars in MRT-North Ave will definitely be South-bound and will drop by Makati. <br /><br />As soon as we came out, Danna and I dashed for the exact change booth. We had a feeling the last ride to the South was at hand. We were at the rear of the line when we saw the foreigner guy head for the cashier of the same booth and provide his payment. How appalling!<br /><br />To my disappointment, the cashier assisted the <span style="font-style:italic;">singit</span> right after the woman who came in first. She did not bother to remind him that they, as a public transport system, observe queue lines and he had to do the same thing. She just stared daggers at him after he’s turned his back to head for the turnstiles. What good can THAT do? Wasn’t she the perfect person to reprove him and do something?lornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543297.post-88523695463727689642010-08-23T17:38:00.000-07:002010-08-24T17:50:46.029-07:00HOSTAGE DRAMATITLE: HOSTAGE DRAMA<br />TAMBUCHO TALE #: 31<br />DESTINATION: AYALA AVENUE<br />TRT: 1 HOUR 38 MINUTES<br /><br />I first encountered this hostage drama in <a href="http://mindy-tv.blogspot.com/">MindyTV</a>'s Facebook status yesterday morning, dismissed it as another forgettable episode and went to bed to dream of <a href="http://scorpionsyrup-dream.us.splinder.com/post/913125#913125">happy dreams</a>. <br /><br />Before I dashed for work, I overheard TV anchor Ted Failon interviewing the hostage-taker. He repeatedly asked the latter what exactly would cease this all then the line went dead. I had no time to probe what's going on because, as always, I was running late. I had a bus to catch.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgecAoUjixq72DMglXHIbIGxQ_8gd6iqw-3ge5ZjBQkYKchzQhIoOb3jvaPMYKJxBp1VC9dWvNuIe8clRB4Dh6m7Ekk50-CHTk5AhvaeKJtuwIb5fdFLB46_jZhDAD6MBFQBtV9lw/s1600/hostage_taker.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgecAoUjixq72DMglXHIbIGxQ_8gd6iqw-3ge5ZjBQkYKchzQhIoOb3jvaPMYKJxBp1VC9dWvNuIe8clRB4Dh6m7Ekk50-CHTk5AhvaeKJtuwIb5fdFLB46_jZhDAD6MBFQBtV9lw/s320/hostage_taker.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508791530178998578" /></a><br />Photo from <a href="http://www.laarnaay-boutique.com/">Laarni</a>.<br /><br />Little did I know the gravity of this hostage drama when I finally saw the TV coverage on the bus around 19:30. No other news was as newsworthy: there was no split screen, no commercial breaks, no other news segment. I felt the whole nation stopped dead on their tracks to tune in. Us passengers were completely silent, horrified, frustrated and, thanks to Mike Enriquez when he called Mel Tiangco as "Weng", momentarily humored. <br /><br />So <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rolando_Mendoza">Rolando Mendoza</a> was a dismissed police officer who wants to get reinstated by taking a bunch of innocent tourists from Hong Kong as hostages. Wow. Wait, isn't his case being reviewed already by the Ombudsman? <br /><br />It was disappointing to witness the joined forces of the police and SWAT (now mockingly dubbed as <span style="font-style:italic;">Sobrang Wala Akong</span> Training, <span style="font-style:italic;">Sugod</span>. Wait. <span style="font-style:italic;">Atras. Tago!</span>., among others) display incompetence (ex. overlooking the emergency exit) and cowardice (ex. taking 45 minutes, as per CNN, to get rid of the entrance door) to gun down one of their kind. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh1oe156g44ZXtsijqm-LcN9UfchffowvmYqHZfShHIF0Nax9YV384BDwAoKciBFip-iRO7hSnEw8aT9JXTnTiIoQa9o3v6ll1Ryb1he3mQzBm7wbHeGonSfK4kdyTa_Hf2slTtg/s1600/hostage.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 202px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh1oe156g44ZXtsijqm-LcN9UfchffowvmYqHZfShHIF0Nax9YV384BDwAoKciBFip-iRO7hSnEw8aT9JXTnTiIoQa9o3v6ll1Ryb1he3mQzBm7wbHeGonSfK4kdyTa_Hf2slTtg/s320/hostage.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508816432490682594" /></a><br />Photo source <a href="http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/world/asia-pacific/gunman-tourists-killed-in-manila-hostage-drama/article1681750/">here</a>.<br /><br />When I landed in Libertad, I was doubly alert for and eager to hail the first LRT-Ayala bus to pass by. It's almost not about punctuality at work anymore; please let me know what's going on. Fortunately, the next bus was also tuned in but, due to the heavy rainfall, we initially had poor reception. I missed the part where the bus driver miraculously managed to break free and declared all passengers were already lifeless. Soon enough, the exchange of bullets took place, resulting to the actual demise of the poor victims. Apparently, the hostage-taker was also tuned in to the news, patiently waiting for the next clues. <br /><br />By this time, I've reached my bus stop and braved the downpour. However, some stupid taxi driver sped by in front of me, throwing a huge amount of possibly dirty water on my <a href="http://lornampayatot.multiply.com/photos/album/127#photo=9">tube dress</a> and doll shoes. The long parade of vehicles made me ran back for cover. When the coast was clear, I ran as rapid as I could. I was grateful I didn't slip and fall headfirst or something. The sooner I reach the office, the better. It was getting too cold.<br /><br />When I had my turn to log in, the biometrics won't even take my fingerprint. I didn't have any dry fabric to press on - my clothes, bag, handkerchief were like sponges. After a couple more attempts to log in, it went through. It was 20:38. So I was soaking wet, dehydrated, impatient for my turn for the dryer and aching to see the happy ending of this drama for the next 30 long minutes. <br /><br />When I emerged from the comfort room around 21:10, the pantry was filled with equally concerned employees, tuned in to the coverage. To my shock, there was no mineral water available from both water dispensers that time. To my relief, this hair-raising incident was history. <br /><br />It's about being condemned by the whole world in the present.lornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543297.post-75991588463780441432010-08-19T19:29:00.000-07:002010-08-19T19:42:35.886-07:00UNLUCKYTITLE: UNLUCKY<br />TAMBUCHO TALE #: 30<br />DESTINATION: AYALA AVENUE<br />TRT: 30 MINS<br /><br />For the nth time, this newbie was running late. The nerve, no?<br /><br />The series of unfortunate events started when a fellow bus passenger from behind did an outcry upon the realization that her former seatmate stole her mobile phone. I didn't exactly hear her recollection of what happened but she mentioned the tall guy told her something and she reacted, "<span style="font-style:italic;">Bahala ka sa buhay mo</span>!". The bus conductor was rather insensitive to this woman's issue; he'd just say "<span style="font-style:italic;">Di nga nagbayad yung tatlong iyon eh</span>!" each time he'd go near the victim. Either that or his statement that the robbers' faces didn't register on his mind. We were rather impressed how smooth it was. He managed to fish for this well-hidden phone without even slashing the bag.<br /><br />I was immediately possessed with paranoia. See, my shoulder bag's zipper was completely broken then, making my bag invitingly open for hold uppers. I was even carrying a huge amount of money that time for a major transaction the following day. Luckily, I survived the trip to my office without being harassed again or having cardiac arrest from extreme worry.<br /><br />As influenced by what happened in <a href="http://tambucho-tales.blogspot.com/2010/08/walkathon.html">the previous entry</a>, I decided to take a long, brisk walk to the office. To my shock and consternation, a handful of commuters were climbing to the gate across the street. Wasn't that supposed to be unlocked as early as 20:00? It was already 20:25!<br /><br />Scared of another injury, torn clothes and embarrassment that results after that, I opted to take the underpass. We all know that I'm no fast runner, especially when I was wearing a chic outfit (my batchmates said so). I was even carrying 2 bags that time, adding load to my consistently slow sprint. When I was half-way through, I caught sight of an college friend with his friends. I had no time for pleasantries, dude. Nod, nod, bye.<br /><br />Then the heavens conspired to give me a heartbreaking encounter in the office. Actually, it was initially heart-racing then everything just fell apart. Sorry, kids, but I'm not yet ready to divulge what happened. Clue: crushie-related.<br /><br />The ending? I logged in at 20:32. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!lornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543297.post-46407587832293052952010-08-17T17:33:00.000-07:002010-08-17T17:47:36.715-07:00WALKATHONTITLE: WALKATHON<br />TAMBUCHO TALE #: 29<br />DESTINATION: AYALA AVENUE<br />TRT: 30 MINS<br /><br />I was running late again. By 20:00, I already accepted the fact that it's another case of tardiness. Believe me, I tried to take a cab when I reached Libertad but the absence of such prompted me to take a bus instead. I heard a tiny voice that said I just might get lucky.<br /><br />So the bus was already one block away from my bus stop in Paseo. I was still hopeful I can make it. All of a sudden, the loud uproar between the People of the Philippines vs. the bus conductor knocked me out of my supposedly undivided viewing of the deceased FPJ taking a plunge to the falls wearing his signature leather jacket and denim jeans. What the hell is going on?<br /><br />A large number of passengers were trying to alight in this area. The bus conductor said it's a loading area to which the passengers countered they get to get off in this area every single night. But, as far as I know, the bus stops are in Crispa (sometimes they don't allow unloading in front of RCBC) then Paseo. So I found this dispute as unreasonable, just ignored the commotion and watched how FPJ outwitted the group of goons leaded by Max Alvarado. The silence didn't last long and the passengers were clamoring for a chance to exit again. I heard one of them pinpoint that it was taking them forever to move forward, trying to sweep passengers that were not there. I fished for my phone in my shoulder bag to check the time and realized I was really late for work. Oh, well.<br /><br />Much to my relief, I managed to log in by 20:28. When I went to the comfort room to rinse and moisturize my face, I recognized the angry passengers as my tenured officemates. So they actually prefer to take a walk one block away to our building instead of a shorter walk from the next bus stop? It was initially weird for me, but the succeeding turn of events made me realize I was wasting about 5 minutes for bus drivers who insist to linger and take in too many passengers. But that probably deserves another blog entry.lornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543297.post-34160744927233669472010-08-16T19:23:00.000-07:002010-08-16T19:43:14.094-07:00LANDMARKSTITLE: LANDMARKS<br />TAMBUCHO TALE #: 28<br />DESTINATION: TALABA<br />TRT: 20 MINS<br /><br />An innocent-looking high school kid interrupted my usual Monday reveries, inquiring what's our exact location. The name of the baranggay we were in momentarily escaped me and, forgive me for saying this, I blurted out, "<span style="font-style:italic;">Nalimutan ko ang</span> title <span style="font-style:italic;">ng lugar na ito</span>,". When my memory finally made a comeback, I told him we're then in Aniban. His follow-up question went, "<span style="font-style:italic;">Dadaan ba tayo ng</span> Kalinisan Road?" I said yes, we're just a couple of minutes away.<br /><br />When I can already see the popular establishments in Zapote Kalinisan like Jollibee and 7-Eleven, I called his attention and pointed to Zapote Kalinisan. He was immediately thankful. Then, he asked for Zapote Kabila. I explained he can take a jeep on the right side to reach Zapote Kabila. When he name-dropped Sogo and asked for the road that leads to Las Piñas, I got confused. Sogo is in Zapote Kalinisan, it's behind 7-Eleven. The road that leads to Las Piñas, however, is Zapote Kabila. He attempted to name more establishments but he seemed to be fixated with <a href="http://www.hotelsogo.com/">Sogo</a>. This, in my opinion, is quite alarming to hear from a high school kid.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwbfCe-oOlv9v66xKxcq8Okk-blEXAhcRt3ZDIRIF9qZocwIDEzNCJjgwBuk0XvsArWGTIm7ORXZF9t4t4b-yyMHmdfH1KTMcviDJKk-_KfiJVOPiL9t4UriHF1tkuye7vizQNew/s1600/hotel_sogo.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwbfCe-oOlv9v66xKxcq8Okk-blEXAhcRt3ZDIRIF9qZocwIDEzNCJjgwBuk0XvsArWGTIm7ORXZF9t4t4b-yyMHmdfH1KTMcviDJKk-_KfiJVOPiL9t4UriHF1tkuye7vizQNew/s320/hotel_sogo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506203585079656098" /></a><br />Photo credit: <a href="http://chickenmafia.com/so-clean-so-tacky">Chicken Mafia</a><br /><br />Anyway, he took my advice and took a jeep to Alabang to go to Zapote Kabila. When I passed by Sogo (en route to Talaba), I can't help but wonder if there were any Sogo in Zapote Kabila. I'm not really in the know when it comes to motels, you know.<br /><br />For the first-timers in the south, trying to locate Zapote Kabila may get confusing. If you're in the Kalinisan area, Zapote Kabila calls for a crawl along the public market to the overpass; it is the road that leads to both sides of Las Piñas (1. Bamboo Organ to Kabihasnan & 2. Pamplona to SouthMall to Alabang). Now, if you're in THAT area, Zapote Kabila is on the other side; the one that leads to Cavite. Weird, I know.lornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543297.post-71441392047549090182010-08-05T19:33:00.000-07:002010-08-05T20:32:28.740-07:00DISCOVERYTITLE: DISCOVERY<br />TAMBUCHO TALE #: 27<br />DESTINATION: TALABA<br />TRT: 40 MINS<br /><br />I just had a last-minute brisk walking episode with a few of my batchmates yesterday morning when I received a phone call from a <a href="http://multiplychad.multiply.com/">former colleague</a>, urging me to meet him. He needed my company while waiting for a nearby establishment to open and he wanted to pay me for <a href="http://humanheartnature.com/shop/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=1&products_id=9&zenid=i7t7t0qph36jngkcbvs977bol4">this shampoo</a> (yep, I'm a dealer). Walking 2 blocks from Paseo Avenue to Herrera immediately registered as a major hassle, considering my poor feet had just endured 45 minutes of action. When I realized I could use some change for my commute home and when I remembered the buses tend to speed by Stock Exchange, I shook my head and took another long walk.<br /><br />Before I could enter North Park to meet him, I noticed the continuous appearances of Erjohn & Almark buses along Ayala Avenue with the signboard that reads DASMARIñAS. I suddenly remembered that sole Erjohn & Almark bus I saw the previous night whose signboard showed AYALA instead of the usual BUENDIA. I didn't take that bus, fearful of any optical illusion-related tragedies. I've had enough instances of tardiness already. <br /><br />I reported the good news to Chad who echoed he saw the same Ayala-bound bus the previous night. It must be for real! We were all the more convinced it was true when we experienced the ride ourselves and got charged for only P25 for the ride. Yes, I had a pleasant smile before I fell asleep.<br /><br />I normally take a bus from Ayala Ave. to Baclaran for P11, then a jeepney to Talaba (fare ranges from P13-18, depending on the driver and your willingness to argue with them) or airconditioned bus to Talaba for P25. Finally, a jeepney ride to my <span style="font-style:italic;">baranggay</span> that amounts to P7. Sometimes, when I'm too lazy to have a 5-minute walk to my place or the sun gets too unbearable, I take a pedicab for P5. You do the math.<br /><br />At the risk of sounding like an endorser, I encourage fellow Caviteños working in Makati to avail of this and save P11 daily! At this time of financial drought, news of the upcoming privatization of MRT and LRT and its proposed fare increase to P50-55, this discovery of a cheaper and sleep-conducive route is truly timely. I just hope that bus operators won't change their mind about this. Ever!<br /><br />Needless to say, we Caviteños have a new favorite bus line. Hurrah to Jasper and Erjohn & Almark!lornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543297.post-8879151905684711872010-07-09T22:31:00.000-07:002010-07-10T09:21:58.315-07:00SENIOR CITIZENTITLE: SENIOR CITIZEN<br />TAMBUCHO TALE #: 26<br />DESTINATION: BAGUIO CITY<br />TRT: 6.5 HOURS<br /><br />I was curled up reading <a href="http://www.amazon.com/New-Other-Woman-Laurel-Richardson/dp/0029268915">The New Other Woman: The Contemporary Single Women In Affairs with Married Men</a> as soon as I boarded the bus. I just finished the segment about single women's increased opportunities for casual encounters in social settings like, ehem, travel when, to my disappointment, a senior citizen took it upon herself to sit beside me. She didn't bother to visit the ticketing office to purchase her pass, meaning someone else had the actual ticket for bus seat # 10. What if he were one sexy stranger who would make me drop this book for some "pleasant, healing and instructive" gabfest?<br /><br />I heard the bus conductor argue with her that what she presented was NOT a bus ticket and that she still needed to pay for her fare. She provided her senior citizen's discount card and mumbled on her reason why it didn't have her ID photo. How lousy. I didn't like this old lady already!<br /><br />For some strange reason, she felt the need to start counting her different set of bills (there's a wad of bigger bills like P500, there's another for smaller ones like P20 and there's her coins) as soon as the bus was in motion. She did this repeatedly for a total of 70 minutes! Well, she momentarily ceased to change earrings and clean her ears then went back to her favorite activity. But, wait, there's more: she slightly directed her cash near enough for my peripheral vision to capture. I can understand if she were avoiding attention from fellow passengers, but heck, all passengers were seated and sleepy. I am yet to meet a passenger who's willing to go on standing room to the highlands of Baguio! Who else was she protecting her cash from?<br /><br />I got a direct order from the birthday girl to sleep away during the trip since we'd party hard until Sunday morning. Close friends know how I struggle with sleep on a daily basis. How harder can it get if I were on the road?<br /><br />When my eyelids finally felt heavier, my seatmate committed this mortal sin of giving me a nudge to ask a stupid question like, "How to register for <a href="http://unlitxt.org/">UNLITXT</a>?" What part of my reclined posture, tightly shut peepers and hidden book you don't understand, I wanted to ask back. In attempt to appear polite in spite of my mounting rage, I simply shook my head. Technically, I really didn't know. I have long abandoned UNLITXT in favor of <a href="http://tattoo.globe.com.ph/product/immortal-text">IMMORTALTXT</a>, remember?<br /><br />This happened again a few hours later. She asked me what time it was when she had been texting as if there were no tomorrow for the past hour! Wasn't she aware that her mobile phone shows the time? Still, I informed her it was past 13:00. I yawned for emphasis.<br /><br />And the worst question with equally bad timing? "Are we there yet?" I was tempted to retort, "Second childhood, eh?" I never fell back to sleep after.<br /><br />I was told <a href=" http://www.plurk.com/p/65mt24">here</a> to be kind to the old folk because I'd become one someday. Try telling that to someone who has no plans to die old.lornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543297.post-72486106110280240542010-07-01T16:36:00.000-07:002010-07-01T17:01:38.400-07:00DISTANCETITLE: DISTANCE<br />TAMBUCHO TALE #: 25<br />DESTINATION: ZAPOTE/TALABA<br />TRT: 15 MINS.<br /><br />So we're just 500 meters away from the final stop. The jeepney driver called the attention of the 3 teenage girls seated next to me, requiring them to pay more. Turns out they only paid the minimum fare of P7.00 each for a very distant ride from SM Molino to Zapote Kalinisan. Which was stupid as my fare from the mentioned mall to San Nicolas, my own <span style="font-style:italic;">baranggay</span>, already amounts to P10.00.<br /><br />If that were not amusing enough, wait till you hear how they reacted. Little Miss Bully repeatedly asked Little Miss <span style="font-style:italic;">Kitikitxt</span> to settle the deficit. "<span style="font-style:italic;">Bayaran mo na</span>!" The latter was too occupied to take heed. Little Miss Henchman initially aired excuses then echoed Little Miss Bully's line in a more encouraging tone. Little Miss <span style="font-style:italic;">Kitikitxt</span> momentarily removed the mobile phone out of her face to stare daggers at Little Miss Bully then fished for her wallet.<br /><br />Little Miss <span style="font-style:italic;">Kitikitxt</span> approached the jeepney driver and clearly stated she's only paying for herself. Since they've already reached their stop, both girls reached for their pockets and, I, the riveted <span style="font-style:italic;">chismosa</span>, had the perfect view of the bills they had in store. Lovely!<br /><br />At least the seemingly rift was over as soon as they alighted.<br /><br />***<br /><br />The same evening at work, I overheard the tenured specialists' discussion on how to <span style="font-style:italic;">wa-tu-tri</span> (spell check please) successfully. The best trick, according to them, would be to sit behind the driver (NOT beside him, all right? I've tried that before and it was beyond stupid!) and hand him other passenger's pay and NEVER say "<span style="font-style:italic;">Bayad <span style="font-weight:bold;">daw</span> po</span>!". Make sure to display ownership by saying "<span style="font-style:italic;">Bayad po</span>!" instead. For a bad actress with weak knees like me, I won't give this a try.<br /><br />As a finisher, they say it is best to say, "<span style="font-style:italic;">Para po</span>! Thank you!". In my commuting experience, I am yet to hear passengers who enthusiastically express their gratitude for reaching their destination. Hence, I find this suggested spiel a hint to the driver and fellow passengers that you just enjoyed a free ride. But what do I know? I'm not an expert.<br /><br />How about you? Have you tried faking it? Isn't it still better to just pay the fare?lornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543297.post-19775064123615729112010-06-08T18:13:00.000-07:002010-06-08T20:17:58.118-07:00BOXINGTITLE: BOXING<br />TAMBUCHO TALE #: 24<br />DESTINATION: PASEO, AYALA AVE.<br />TRT: 30 MINS.<br /><br />I'm back to the graveyard grind and, to my relief, my new workplace is still in Ayala Ave. To my excitement, I was in the area earlier than I planned to.<br /><br />I was about to alight in Paseo when this guy ahead of me made an unexpected halt to hiss at the driver. He was apparently pissed that he didn't stop at Herrera, finding it necessary to ask for some fistfight. I can barely remember if the driver managed to explain the bus stops and say "<span style="font-style:italic;">Ganito kami sa</span> Makati!" as the other passengers behind me generously expressed their disdain over the delay. <br /><br />To my surprise, the driver reciprocated this with outburst of words of pissdom. I had to step back when I felt the mad man's elbow on my chest. By then, everybody was yelling all at once. The conductor asked the driver to pacify and the other passengers asked him to ignore this drunken fool. I was on mute until I felt a shove to push me forward. I had no intention to get hurt!<br /><br />By some miracle, the unhappy passenger stepped down. While the rest of the passengers dashed to their respective buildings, I took pleasure in watching what unfolded next. After all, I was 60 minutes early. He went on pounding the bus door, challenging the driver to come out for a duel. The conductor once came out to push him away. This continued until the traffic light turned green.<br /><br />Shaking my head, I crossed the street to finally report to work. After a few minutes, I felt him unintentionally push me aside then saw him cause traffic for staggering along the pedestrian lane without even looking if any vehicle were on ongoing course. How classic!<br /><br />Being drunk on a Monday night can be elevating but PLEASE, make sure to display exhilaration and try to spread some good vibes! But, hey, that was entertaining!lornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543297.post-73588887092238189652010-05-30T04:41:00.000-07:002011-11-02T18:14:24.048-07:00LOSTTITLE: LOST<br />TAMBUCHO TALE #: 24<br />DESTINATION: EASTWOOD CITY<br />TRT: 10 MINS<br /><br />It was my first day of work. I was expected to show up in Eastwood by 8AM. Of all places!<br /><br />In spite of <a href="http://www.plurk.com/p/5f5rll">this helpful guide</a>, I'm still your typical <span style="font-style:italic;">promdi</span> who confused Megamall Building B with Building A. What's with the affinity with that FX terminal? That's where I used to line up when I was decided it's finally time to repose in my old apartment in Oranbo, Pasig.<br /><br />Since I never saw any Santolan-bound FX and no fellow commuter can identify to what I was looking for, I decided to hail a cab. Besides, my second degree friend-turned-colleague Noah was already in Eastwood, cursing herself for being in the vicinity as early as 06:30AM. You could say she was very thrilled to end her 4-month bumhood. Before stepping in, I prayed the fare won't reach P100. <br /><br />The R&E cabbie greeted me with a pleasant smile, asking for my destination. As usual, I forwarded the plate number to the next person I'd meet for security reasons. He repeated if we're heading to Eastwood, narrating how one passenger from Makati confirmed she's headed to Eastwood but, upon reaching Libis, she clarified she needed to be in KINGSWOOD. Mind you, she was very sober, awake and responsive to his small talk. Does she have 20-20 vision? I wouldn't know.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Manong</span> went on. He had another passenger from Caloocan, asking to be driven to Quirino. When they made it to Malate, he said he's referring to Quirino in Parañaque! <span style="font-style:italic;">Manong</span> said there are 4 Quirinos: Malate, Parañaque, Novaliches and somewhere else. What's the first Quirino that comes to mind?<br /><br />The best story would have to this certain mother who left her 6-year-old slumbering kid in the cab. The driver didn't leave the mall area until this passenger returns to claim what she lost. However, instead of thank yous, the driver earned an earful.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Manong</span> was introducing an OFW passenger who assumed he knew the airport terminals very well. After losing on the debate about the best route to take, the passenger gave him a P1,000 tip on top of his bill. He was that grateful he made it for his flight. By that time, I could hardly concentrate anymore. The bill was almost P70 and I was already trying to review cheap options for lunch. I only had P300 in my pocket for that day!<br /><br />Luckily, the vehicle eventually came into a halt. I paid him exactly P75 and thanked him for his amusing stories. Too bad I can't give him any tip.<br /><br />***<br /><br />I found an equally amusing tale about a certain selfless cab driver. Jamir Ocampo posted on Facebook:<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg73v7dmJRx71YIVZS3ng8KLJ9yLzeaRRqAw00rjxB8tkPW5YQ_9o3eVT1iWzH29_OaNrHvtLxzSFD3Colv4Q6Rw22OyU8fcss2zEhJePgyX6Gx3JC9zvgcBsMXFNw81hyNoy9SQ/s1600/manong.jpg"><img style="float:center; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg73v7dmJRx71YIVZS3ng8KLJ9yLzeaRRqAw00rjxB8tkPW5YQ_9o3eVT1iWzH29_OaNrHvtLxzSFD3Colv4Q6Rw22OyU8fcss2zEhJePgyX6Gx3JC9zvgcBsMXFNw81hyNoy9SQ/s320/manong.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477040791026583730" /></a><br /><br />Kitang-kita namin ni Manong taxi driver kung paano binunggo ng pulang Corolla ang Pajero sa bandang Krus na Ligas, ang masama kumaripas palayo ang Corolla para matakasan ang areglo, palibhasa babae ang driver ng nabunggong Pajero. <br /><br />“Teka lang haharangin ko lang tong gagong to,” ang sabi ni Manong. Hindi alintana kung sinuman ang driver ng pulang Corolla, nakipagkarerahan si Manong (takot ko lang dahil overspeeding na kami) hanggang tuluyan na nyang naharang sa Katipunan ang pulang Corolla.<br /><br />Nang maabutan ng Pajero ang bumunggo sa kanya, iniwan na namin sila mag-areglo. "Pangalawang beses ko nang nagawa to," humahagikgik na sambit ni Manong.<br /><br />Ang ganda ng hapon. Saya maging Pinoy.<br /><br />Photo and text by <span style="font-weight:bold;">Jamir Ocampo</span>.lornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543297.post-9804117032139080262010-05-26T08:45:00.000-07:002010-05-27T03:28:53.925-07:00PILLOWSTITLE: PILLOWS<br />TAMBUCHO TALE #: 23<br />DESTINATION: SUCAT<br />TRT: 20 MINS.<br /><br />Imagine this: From Bacoor to Sucat to Quezon City to Baclaran to Cavite City to Bacoor. That was my itinerary for the day. It was all business, except for my last stop: a high school friend's birthday dinner in Bacoor.<br /><br />Before I got to ascend the jeepney bound to Sucat, I recognized the long-haired passenger seated on the right side of the vehicle. I deliberately took the vacant spot across her. [Some people prefer to sit next to their friends but I find it easier to communicate when you are sitting face to face.] I saw her caught sight of me while I remove my laptop back on my back, making me thrilled for the major gabfest that was about to take place. <br /><br />When I turned my head back to greet her, I found her slightly shifted to the opposite direction. Her arm slightly concealed her face and her eyes were suddenly squeezed shut. She was pretending to be asleep!<br /><br />It was unbelievable! We've been good friends for the longest time. I'd say we haven't spoken let alone exchange text messages for almost a decade! What went wrong?<br /><br />I fought the urge to toss the laptop bag before me to wake her up. But then again, <span style="font-style:italic;">mahirap manggising ng isang taong nagtutulug-tulugan</span>. If she did not want to catch up with me, then I wouldn't force her. <br /><br />I saw her open her eyes a couple of minutes later. Still, she avoided my gaze. By that time, I already gave up. <span style="font-style:italic;">Kung ayaw mo, edi wag</span>!<br /><br />I watched her alight from the jeepney and move towards the entrance of SM Sucat. I bet she did not even look back to make sure if I were watching.lornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8543297.post-55497950317448817642010-05-24T05:32:00.002-07:002010-05-27T03:28:17.320-07:00OVERLOADTITLE: OVERLOAD<br />TAMBUCHO TALE #: 22<br />DESTINATION: AGORA MARKET, CAGAYAN DE ORO<br />TRT: 2 GODDAAMN HOURS<br /><br />Some blog entries really take a year to be completed. Anything infuriating becomes comical over time, right? <br /><br />With heavy hearts, our party of four took the first ferry to leave Camiguin Island and dashed to Balingonan Port in Misamis Oriental. It was still early but we were in a hurry. We had confirmed to go whitewater rafting and asked to be picked up by noon. But before we can get wet and wild, we had to find a refuge!<br /><br />Upon arrival in the bus terminal, we were portraits of disbelief that there were no airconditioned bus waiting for us. This transformed into restlessness when the wait stretched longer than we hoped. When about two ordinary buses had pulled in, we exchanged worried looks and practically ran to get on board. Ordinary buses are always on the fast lane, right? <br /><br />Or so we thought.<br /><br />Much to my annoyance, the driver loved to take his sweet time by doing quick stops every single opportunity he saw to draw in passengers. I actually fell asleep for roughly twenty minutes and, judging by the road signs along the way, we did not cover much distance. To top it off, I saw an airconditoned bus did an overtake. Thank you for your patience, it says.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdp_RRbhJB25V7ztV3DYsMil9Y3kEBDD3arNkreAesUPfeR2B5Xl_F4a5j24D58VzcxcywSR62BSJKkr6mjouROSiOfK_i9tVfqcwwKBNKglGAYIouQ8LYmjn8Vbv34VqHvX3u4A/s1600/bus3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdp_RRbhJB25V7ztV3DYsMil9Y3kEBDD3arNkreAesUPfeR2B5Xl_F4a5j24D58VzcxcywSR62BSJKkr6mjouROSiOfK_i9tVfqcwwKBNKglGAYIouQ8LYmjn8Vbv34VqHvX3u4A/s320/bus3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474813758020088690" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtJ8I8AOS1JkFQGhuBnyA5E0scHpa4BFJVn3kC1u1m-7U0ZheTTjmWValCGjMLFsBRQ63R_rNdLQ6hJ73OrOyi5BZA6DQkfezJNIgjUknmmJ9bEtyecCwqGKlysk9k3h5MptDvnQ/s1600/bus2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtJ8I8AOS1JkFQGhuBnyA5E0scHpa4BFJVn3kC1u1m-7U0ZheTTjmWValCGjMLFsBRQ63R_rNdLQ6hJ73OrOyi5BZA6DQkfezJNIgjUknmmJ9bEtyecCwqGKlysk9k3h5MptDvnQ/s320/bus2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474813757254297202" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinoXQkdK4VuFFJqX8vuXJHQ0U1LeYo7Ug4VGGRnsHIKfUOO7GTlnzNa82PHy8cij4PZU-3Nr5obaWZDcBVGxBCQHUQ8UWwQJjvZYPWsSO01sa9tnb3JqQWj-uin5ZbDAkKrHq5cw/s1600/bus.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinoXQkdK4VuFFJqX8vuXJHQ0U1LeYo7Ug4VGGRnsHIKfUOO7GTlnzNa82PHy8cij4PZU-3Nr5obaWZDcBVGxBCQHUQ8UWwQJjvZYPWsSO01sa9tnb3JqQWj-uin5ZbDAkKrHq5cw/s320/bus.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474813751586908978" /></a><br /><br />Photos by <a href="http://www.twitter.com/daena09">Danna Ah</a>.<br /><br />I may be unable to understand the vernacular but I noticed that everyone was talking angrily all at the same time. It seemed they were also clamoring for some speed. <br /><br />The funny thing was (NOW it's funny), the driver still insisted to pick up EVERY potential passenger along the road in spite of what the photos above convey. He was apparently trying to piss us all off!<br /><br />Needless to say, our bunch arrived in the Agora Market by noon and asked our contact to defer the pick up to 13:00. This tamagochi had to make reservations and, most importantly, appease my hunger. I was too weak to injure the driver. That lucky bastard!lornadahlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331297415219351515noreply@blogger.com0