Of Taxis and Lines

I woke up today feeling lazy (as usual).. It was one of the usual Saturday mornings when I hear my alarm clock and grumble as I press the "snooze" button for another extended 5 minutes. It was that kind of day. With a heavy heart I jumped out of bed and took the long walk to the shower (S and I had slept over and I didn't bring any work clothes hence having to walk back to our house). In no time I was engulfed in perfume clouds, wearing a clean shirt, jeans that I can finally wear (thanks to my dieting), and my aqua sneaks. 

It was one of those nonchalant days.

Not So-Yellow Cab

The moment I hailed a cab I was already composing a tweet about how work on a weekend sucks. Haha. Typical C, I know. 

Then the driver spoke: "Kaliwa po tayo diha?" (Do we take a left there?)

My sleepy self was suddenly alive and kicking. Hala! Si Kuya Bisaya pud diay! (Oh! Kuya's Bisaya too!) The conversation was short but amusing. There is a different kind of high that I get when I discover that random strangers are Cebuano/Bisaya like myself. The vast expanse of the metro feels smaller and I feel like I'm chit-chatting with a long-time neighbor. In a nutshell, it always feels like home. 

I discovered that Kuya lived in the neighboring city of Butuan, East of Cagayan de Oro. He asked about my family in CDO and how badly affected the city was because of Sendong. I indulged and talked to him briefly about how my own neighborhood got flooded and how my family have been coping ever since. 

When the taxi parked in front of my office, I paid my fare and wished him well. "Amping kanunay, nong" (Take care always, Manong). From the Tagalog term "Kuya" I used earlier when I hailed the cab, our interaction was transformed to a deeper form of endearment and respect as I called him "Manong"-- a term that is more appropriate to Bisayas.

These small feelers of home make living away feel a bit bearable-- even for a short while.

When I thought the day wouldn't get better, I was greeted by our office maintenance personnel Kuya Roman, who like me, was also from Region X. 

"Maayong buntag Kuya!", (Good morning Kuya) I said half-stopping and half-rushing to beat the clock.

"Maayong buntag Ma'am Czar!", he greeted back with a warm smile.

Shake Break

Later in the day, I was off to Market! Market! for my waxing session when I stopped by a fruit shake stall for a smoothie. The attendant wasn't in his area so I had to wait a while alongside a rather groovy looking old man (his vintage Rayban aviators were like my dad's!) and his daughter who were deciding on where to eat. When his daughter left, he spoke to me and said, "I plan on leaving 50 bucks and get some of these mangoes if the guy doesn't come back". That made me chuckle. I said "yeah, or we could actually make the shakes ourselves sir". He had a huge smile on his face. He reminded me of Dustin Hoffman as Bernie Focker. Haha. 

Then the unexpected happened-- he asked me which province I came from. How he knew I was not from Manila, I couldn't really tell. I spoke to him in straight English and didn't talk to anyone in Bisaya on the phone prior to our conversation. Was it because my hair was in a messy ponytail? Did I look out of place in a sea of Metro Manila mall goers? 

Whatever it was, he was right. We had a healthy exchange of thoughts as we killed time. I was thirsty but I really didn't mind talking to someone who I discovered was from Cebu. When I told him where I was from, we immediately talked about Sendong and how unfortunate it was for so many lives to be lost. He asked me "Kanus-a man ka naka uli sa ato-a?" (When was the last time you went back home?). Home. Ato-a (our place). I love the collective feel of the term. 

When you speak with someone who speaks your language, he/she is considered a part of home. 

We talked a bit about family and more about Sendong. The closing line to his sentence before the shake guy arrived was, "It's really sad, but without death-- there is no life". I was left to nod my head and reflect. When our orders were up, we shook hands and he introduced himself as "Rod". We exchanged pleasant goodbyes and I swear he half-skipped off to Greenwich. 

It never fails to make me smile. Serendipitous meetings with strangers who come from home. I do believe that for some reason, no matter how distant you are to someone, no matter how much of an observer you are-- you would know when someone is from home. It has happened to me countless times and I was surprised that this time, I was on the other end-- being asked if I was from the province.

Its days like this that make me smile and say that I chose the right thesis topic during my college years. When everyone else was studying performance, I chose to study the correlation between speaking a common native language and the amount of disclosure that one makes. To summarize it, when language is used as a commonality, it increases trust between to people; thus allowing them to share deeper insights and increase the topics being shared. But this discussion is so lengthy, in-depth, and nerdy-- I shall save it for another post. :)

Thank god for the Bisaya "invasion"-- as how Mr. P calls it when he sees me so amused by the growing number of Bisayas in Manila. It never gets lonely in the big bad Metro.