I’ve just realized that it’s been quite a while since I’ve written an entry where I recount a day that I’ve had. So let me break that streak and bore you with details on how I spent the 29th day of January 2011 (with the original Broadway cast of Little Women playing in my background)—
I got up at around six in the morning and reveled in the crisp chilliness that carried over from the Christmas season in our porch. Like most Saturdays, the better part of the morning was spent during the four- hour-long breakfasts (or should I say brunches?) with the family.
Pretty soon it was time for us to break apart and go to our individual Saturday appointments: my parents had to leave to attend and be godparents to a friend’s reconciliation while I had to go off and meet Raydon. A couple of weeks earlier we booked slots in OldManilaWalks.com, for a day to be spent stuffing or faces with Ivan Man Dy’s tour of Binondo. Since I didn’t even know where Binondo was exactly, I was pretty sure I’d get pulled over by a cop if I even tried to figure out how to get there on my own. I decided to just drive to Makati, deposit my car in my mother’s company-provided parking spot and then take the commute to Manila.
So yes, ladies and gentlemen, after almost two years of driving everywhere, I’ve taken public transportation once again and let me tell you, I’ve found that the experience, although thrilling, was not sorely missed. Since I had a couple of hours to kill before the appointed tour time, I decided to take the bus from Ayala to Dapitan. I figured that since it was a Saturday and since the signboard said that the buss would take the route to Nagtahan that I’ll be in UST in no time and that I’ll have enough time to take a stroll through the wreckage left by the quadricentennial celebration left.
Very quickly I was reminded how public transportation worked: they did not operate on any kind of schedule at all and that they are prone to stopping at every corner where a pedestrians stood. What would’ve taken me twenty minutes to drive through took me an hour and a half, made all the more uncomfortable by the woman who sat with me on the two-seater. She was a nurse from Makati Medical Center I think, and as soon as she sat down she whipped out her phone and began a very loud and very awkward conversation with a dude who, apparently, she met through text who she hasn’t even seen yet.
By the time I got to UST, I only had twenty minutes left before the appointed tour time so I immediately hopped onto the first cab that would take me to Binondo Church. I say the first one because I had three cab drivers that turned me down. The traffic was really heavy in Intramuros and by the time I got to my destination, I was already late, though not by much. I later learned that the tour guide was caught in heavy traffic as well so no biggie.
But all of the hassle was definitely worth it. Raydon and I got to experience Chinatown through a legit Tsinoy’s point of view. We literally ate our way through Binondo and by the time that the tour was over, not only was I stuffed with authentic Chinese food, but also with the history factoids that Ivan shared about his beloved Chinatown.
All in all the experience was a great one as it reminded me, quite forcefully, of how I once lived my life before I learned how to drive. I’d definitely be up for a repeat, although I’d probably just take a taxi straight to Binondo church next time (assuming that I would find one who’d agree to take me, that is).
