I ride the bus home from work almost everyday. I always arrive at the bus stop a quarter past five and just in time to see my ride manage the corner of Colombo St and Gloucester St.Yesterday was the same, except that it was one nostalgic trip. Let me narrate the events for you.
As I boarded the bus, I was greeted by a thickly accented Chinese guy. Before I can even tap my card on the machine, the bus was rolling already. And faster than an express, I found myself at the doorstep of where we are staying in Parklands a mere 20 minutes later. En route we passed on two Number 70 buses, the same numbered bus that I was on, and one of which was an Express. Now that normally should never happen since buses are spaced at least 15 minutes from each other. But our driver banged the pedal to the metal, not minding the 15 ton weight that he was lagging behind the wheels. The big round visible signs with the number 50 signifying the speed limit does not seem to bother him. And on the roundabouts, he seem to think that he has the right of way, always.
Ah, yesterday brought back memories of the Philippines. The feeling of terror when riding the bus jolts me back to the streets of Manila, where there is a significant chance you could get into an accident on the road. Everyday when you step on that bus in that big metropolitan city of the brownies, you just feel numb from praying that you could get to work and back in one piece.
As I disembarked yesterday's bus, the cold air brought me back to New Zealand and made me ponder on the state of my life at this stage. But that is another story. And until then, let us hope that that is the last time I got on a trip down memory lane, so to speak. :)
No comments:
Post a Comment