Buses and Trains

I rode a school bus to my alma mater all throughout preschool, elementary and high school. The environment inside Mang Eno’s bus (or was it Mang Enong? I never did ask…) was relaxed and comfortable, with the kids living so near and knowing each other for years.
It was a nice place to go back to, if I get the chance.
But it was never a place to think.
There were always riots, unscheduled drama and shouting matches, and an eternal wail of ‘Mang Enooo!!!’ every other quarter of an hour. It was definitely one kind of hell, so I can say that I was never one to think of brilliant ideas throughout my growing years.
And then I started college. I had to adapt to long bus and train rides from Cavite to the capital, all thanks to the notorious traffic jams Manila is famous for. I have no problem with going to school on mornings; I mean, I do get to watch the sunrise sometimes and say ‘good morning’ to the moon. I find it fascinating, the way the world lights up ever so subtly until you find yourself in a glory of radiance which was just not supposed to be there, but is.
But then the night is a different story. It is great to watch the glow of artificial lights, weaving its magic in the eyes of the unaware beholder. But such lights are extravagant (not to mention redundant) only in Manila. Beyond Baclaran is the lonely stretch of Coastal Road where the only thing you see in the window is your face trying to see something else.
That is when I get the time to write my thoughts in the notebook inside my head. I feel like I am examining myself, face to face, as my reflection on the glass floats around the vague, disembodied landscape of the night.