Davao trip - 3
WHAT is it about Filipinos in enclosed spaces? It seems that the tighter the fit, the louder their voices get.
I say “they” because I would never get caught talking about my most intimate secrets with strangers around. Like, “in your face” around. Not even when I’ve had too much to drink.
Okay, maybe that’s not exactly true. But even then, I would only do it with close friends around.
I heard that in Japan it’s taboo to talk on your cellphone or even with your companions inside public transportation like buses, trains and the subway. Apparently, they consider the behavior rude because they don’t want to be a bother to anyone. But who am I kidding? I’m in the Philippines, and almost everyone’s a pest.
And so last Thursday, I found myself inside a van-full of people I had never met before on my way to Davao City from Cagayan de Oro.
Although after I alighted at the terminal in Ecoland, I swear I knew what color underwear the woman behind me was wearing. (By the way, it was pink… just kidding.)
But there I was, so eager to experience the undulating terrain of Bukidnon and take in its breathtaking scenery, only to spend the next seven hours hanging on for dear life. Literally. Somehow, the driver was undaunted by the wet road. Apparently, he had never heard of the saying, “slippery when wet.” That, or he was wearing lead shoes because he was hitting the accelerator hard, real hard.
During our first bathroom stop somewhere in Manolo Fortich, I learned why. He had an upset stomach, he told me as he entered the stall while I was doing my business at the urinal. I managed a grunt and immediately got out of there because I was pretty sure he wasn’t sharing for the sake of conversation but was giving me a warning.
We stopped at the nearest pharmacy. While the driver got out, I immediately told the guy next to me – the Tausug from Jolo – that the former was suffering from LBM. Everyone nodded in sympathy. I just realized my voice, even if it was hushed, carried in such a small enclosure. The driver must have wondered why everyone was so solicitous – especially the Ilonggo in the front seat – when he returned, while I slowly slunk behind the seat in front of me, pretending to nod off.
By the time we crossed the bridge that spans the Pulangui River that had almost overflown that day near Busco in Butong, I had realized that being a bother wasn’t so much, well, a bother.
When the Tagalog told the driver he was getting off in Calinan after his girlfriend told him to get off at Gaisano Grand, I quickly reminded him that there was another one in Tibungko. It was a good thing he double-checked because I was right, and he would have found himself stuck in the downpour more than 50 kilometers from the embrace of his loved one. Sun.Star Cebu