In terms of transportation in the Philippines, many volunteers are lucky; they hop on a bus or a plane and are nearly home at site. As one of 6 volunteers within 3 hours of Manila, one would think transportation would be a cinch, right? The capital city of the Philippines must have developed a decent system for travelling in and out. Must have! In reality, my typical route from Manila is fairly complicated, and far longer than necessary. I have come to accept it for what it is (a pain in the @$$).
Let me briefly describe my typical route home from Manila, so you will better understand the rest of this blog, about my night from hell travelling home in the Philippines.
Leaving the Peace Corps Philippines office in Manila requires me to take a quick and fairly painless jeepney (SEE PICTURE), though uncomfortably packed as always, to LRT 1 (one of Metro Manila’s 3 rail lines.. LRT 1 and LRT 3 are parallel or nearly parallel and connected in the center by LRT 2, forming an A shape, or maybe an H…). Push and shove my way out, hitting multiple people in the face with my backpack and stepping on toes left and right. Whoops, sorry, my bad, excuse me, Ahhh, fresh exhaust air. Climb up 3 flights of stairs to the LRT, Monumento bound. We wait just a few minutes for the train to arrive, then jostle our ways inside, my backpack serving this time as a much needed spacer to ensure no one comes too close to my body. I’ll be ready with sharp elbows anywho. Another typical ride, not close enough to the handrails to grab on, practicing my balancing skills in the center of the aisle, in as close to a yogic trance as I can manage, blocking the sweating goggling Filipino men out of my vision (there is a Women’s Section of the train, but it’s usually even more crowded than the Men’s). Less than twenty minutes, jostle out, breathe a dirty-aired sigh of relief, walk on to the LRT 2 line. Short wait, and bigger jostle than before because this is the first LRT 2 stop so everyone wants to get a seat. I often manage with my sweet white-girl face to hustle a seat, and sit my tired young body down. From Cubao, it is a jeepney to Cogeo, another jeepney towards Paenaan, and off at my barangay Boso Boso. From Boso Boso, I take a tricycle close to my house, and walk the remaining meters. One and a half hours, tops.
Not this night.
6:15pm- I get off the LRT at Cubao to grab dinner and pick up a few groceries. I may have taken a little while too long, as it around 7pm when I finally head outside to find yet another jeepney, to Cogeo this time. Usually, it is difficult to get a jeepney in Cubao that is Cogeo-bound. At night especially, most jeepneys heading to Cogeo are already packed to exploding points, men clutching on to the back like barnacles. Back riders. I wait twenty minutes sometimes, or give up and grab an Fx (an old SUV that serves as another public transportation) for twice as much in cost. This night, a Saturday night, was different.
There seemed to be double, maybe triple, the usual amount of people waiting for a jeepney. It seemed, also, that the majority were Cogeo-bound. I waited for 45 minutes on the side of the road with people that seemed to be materializing from nowhere, before my impatience gave out. I trudged to the Fx line, which was nearly reaching the street, and settled down grumpily for a long wait. I had no idea that this was just the beginning of my night. Time check- 7:45pm.
8:15pm- I excuse myself from the line with the approval of the woman behind me, to buy water. The Air-Con inside Mercury Drug feels heavenly and I debate staying for a while, but instead head back into the think Manila air to continue my wait. I overhear the women in front of me discussing. “Traffic,” they agree.
8:45pm- Still waiting in that line. My back is rather sweaty.
9:00pm- Finally, I am nearly next in line for a Darn Fx to Cogeo. Cranky, but having bonded with the adorable baby in front of me and avoided all questioning eyes as to my ethnic origins, I am doing OK.
9:10pm- Getting really impatient. I am Next damnit! Where is this Fx??
9:30pm- The guard states that the Fx to Cogeo is now closed. Find another way, he says.
9:31pm- I curse a few times out loud.
9:32pm- Pushing my way into the mass of bodies waiting on the street, I finally board an Fx headed towards Cogeo, but stopping instead at Sta. Lucia/Robinson’s Mall, 40 minutes short still of my destination. I am freaking out just a little, wondering if I will even be able to get home tonight.
9:50pm- There is terrible traffic indeed, on the main road that runs from Cubao to Cogeo. I am squeezed between an old man and a young couple inside the Fx, both of whom attempt to practice their English with me. Not being able to move even an inch on either side, I have no choice but to indulge them.
10:00pm- We reach Sta. Lucia/Robinson’s Mall to find hundreds, literally, hundreds of people waiting on the streets, in long lines for an Fx, and sitting on the sidewalks as if ready to camp there. The people take up nearly two right lanes of the road, each vying for the one spot left available on each jeepney. “Shit. Shit.” The first curse is me, the second is the couple next to me. I am in minor panic mode.
10:05pm- After some brief internal paranoid debate, I drag my dying body to the Fx line. I wait once again for a Cogeo-bound Fx, legs tapping nervously and impatiently, for nearly an hour this time.
10:50pm- The guard, actually I think he is just a driver, announces that Fx Cogeo-bound is no more. Closed. Sorry. I hit panic mode full-on, texting furiously to anyone who will listen. I text my Supervisor, asking when the last jeepney in Cogeo leaves. She tells me midnight, but not to wait that long because it will be “very dangerous.” I have an hour to somehow get to Cogeo, in order to get another jeepney toward Paenaan, so I can get a trike to my house before everyone is asleep, or someone tries to murder me. Shit. Oh dear, shit.
10:51pm- I nearly run to the street, ready this time to catch a back ride on a jeep if I have to. I don’t though, too chicken to hang on to the back with all the guys. After all, I am a white girl carrying two bags. Instead, I resume to get a taxi, pay however many hundreds of pesos. Fine. Whatever, just get me home.
11:00pm- No taxis stop. No jeeps stop. I text like a mad-woman, soliciting advice from my supervisor again. She advises me to return to Manila. No can do, LRT is already closed.
11:05pm- Still thinking, nearly in tears, I admit.
11:06pm- I decide to find anything that will take me to Masinag (in the direction of Cogeo, but not quite far enough), and from there make a new plan. Walk? Find a motel? Stay at an acquaintance’s house? Hitch a broom and fly to Cogeo?
11:12pm- I am on a jeepney to Masinag, just 10 minutes away from the mall. The driver is younger than me, and taking full advantage of the situation. He charges double to take everyone to Masinag and no further. He talks to the jeepney barker, the one who calls out the jeepney destination, and they joke about the situation. There is traffic. Real traffic. I am still texting friends like mad.
11:15pm- We have barely moved. It looks like a scene from Independence Day, people taken to walking, streaming the sidewalks with bags, children. It is a madhouse outside the jeepney. The jeep moves to drives on the left side of the road, the wrong side. I panic, close my eyes, ready for sudden impact that does not come. Other cars, jeepneys, trucks follow us, driving on the wrong side before the drivers realize they are merely adding to the traffic. They attempt to cross back to the right side, but cause a traffic jam in the process. Cars are stopped, facing every which direction, our jeepney bashfully in the center of it all. All jeeps full, Eminem “Lose Yourself” blasting from our jeepney. “If this was Independence Day, I would not survive,” I think. “I must make a blog about this, once I stop making my lip bleed from biting it with nervousness.”
11:27pm- The jeepney plays 2Pac, Changes. At least it has good music, I think, starting to almost relax. We are on the right side of the road again. The night has finally cooled off, and I am almost comfortable for the first time in many hours, as we inch our way towards Masinag. There is still a chalk smell of dust kicked up by a truck, music turned bad, sour taste in my mouth.
11:29pm- “Baba.” Get out now. We are in Masinag, stopped, despite our pleas to the driver to take us to Cogeo instead. “Out na.”
11:30pm- I scan the road for Motels, anything. There is a single cop car patrolling the massive traffic. I stand with the still-numerous crowd, hoping to find anything that will take me closer to where I need to be. I am not panicking any more. Just, resigned to whatever. I find a jeepney to Cogeo within only 10 minutes.
11:45pm- The jeepney is quiet. We are all tired, having undergone similar journeys tonight. We stop (third time now tonight) for gas on the way. The driver stares at me, “Mahabang ilong,” he states matter-of-factly to the gas attendant. I glare back. I know that I have a long nose. I know. A mother pinches her child’s nose and giggles, in a play attempt to lengthen his own nose, both watching me for too long. I become grumpy again.
12:05pm- After 5 hours, we arrive in Cogeo. Jeeps are still running. They have to, since there is still a small crowd of tired people trying to get home from this traffic mess. The barkers announce that it will be 20 pesos to go a short distance, grins on their dirty faces, happy to be making bank off of this terrible night.
12:10pm- I board a jeepney towards Paenaan. Almost there. There is peace finally, but I feel nervous again. Will I be able to find a tricycle to take me that last 10 minutes in the pitch dark to my house? My Supervisor advises me to stay at the center. I consider her advice.
12:40pm- Boso Boso. My home. 5 other passengers disembark the jeepney. We share a trike. I decide against my supervisor’s advice once again. I am going home tonight.
12:45pm- “Bakit masyadong matao ngayon?” I strike up a conversation with one of the trike passengers. Why so many people tonight? Why is this night different from all other nights? I hope for a satisfying explanation, an explanation that will legitimize the 5.5 hours I have spent travelling and worrying, time I cannot get back. “Traffic,” the woman says. “Ah… Opo… traffic…” I respond, defeated. Just traffic.
So sorry for what happened. Hope traffic will be better in the future. Love, Ligaya
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