Tuesday, 17 January 2012

Nostaligic notetaking

Something I wrote during a rather long bus ride...

Travelling has allowed for many a day of reflection. Looking out of the window of our bus, the 4th in four days, I am reminded of all those long family car journeys. At the time, those trips seemed endless. Although never lasting more than a few hours, me and my sister would bicker and brawl. Inevitably one would arrive in tears, possible missing a tuft of hair (needless to say the baulding child was me more often than not with Hayley making it out unscathed). Yet, despite all the 'are we there yet[s]?' and 'if you don't shut up I will turn this car round' comments, there were moments in these journeys where I found great peace and satisfaction by sitting in silence, peering out of the back seat window, fixated on the life outside of our silver Passat. It is a supposedly insignificant memory, one that everyone has experienced but few dwell on. Yet, for me, they were some of my happiest moments, away from the bickering and away from consumptive distractions, I would become immersed in my thoughts. Questions would arise such as the 'why are the sky blue?' variety, but every now and again moments of genius of an aspiring environmentalist would emerge. But my inquisitive nature, a defining feature that is always with me, often lays dormant.

Today, like many a day in the life of a traveller, I am sat staring out of the window. Another day, another ridiculously long bus journey. But today, unlike most spent in transit, I am feeling relaxed, at-ease and reflective. I am not mindlessly staring, but am actively engaged by the life visible outside the confines of this particularly uncomfortable, excessively-air-coned bus (think wind tunnel in the arctic).
Instead of complaing of the child whining in front, the couple arguing behind, the smell of fried pigs ears coming from my right and the slightly concerning plastic seat coverings (OK, so I complained a little), I find myself gazing out at the Philippino countryside.

Rice paddies create a green smear in the distance, while the road markings strobe white to grey. The clouds dark and heavy, the impending rain about to break. Jeepneys and buses hurry past, struggling to break the speed limit due to their heavy load. A man slumbers under a tree, another urinates against its trunk. Tricycles hopelessly awaiting passengers instead provide shelter and a rather crammed bed for its driver. Tin shacks, sponsered by Malboro or Coca Cola, line the roadside, there to feed the hungry truckers or anyone with a strong stomach.

Crop land becomes marsh-land, marsh-land becomes rivers. Shanty towns surround towns, dead carcasses lining the shop windows. Towns become country again and before long the power lines becomes intertwined and numerous. The concrete jungle of Manila veers its head. Towering above, a boundary, a barrier.. what lies beyond this impenitrable fortress. Shopping malls, SM .. sado-masichism comes to mind. For some, the sick yet rewarding pain for others the pleasure of a consumerist culture.

Rain splatters the pavement. Umbrellas pop open, creating speckles of colour against the grey backdrop.
People walk with purpose, with a need and a frustration not seen in the countryside just a few minutes away.

Buildings grow taller, lights become brighter. A thick smog creeps in as the dirt roads change to paved. Lamp posts, the lines of the metro, car break lights, the hustle and bustle becomes uncomfortably common, seemingly worlds aways from green fields and pasture.

Feable attempt at suburbia, trees scatter the roadside, a poor distraction from the obnoxiously large billboards, promising  you will look like an American teenager if you buy these jeans.
Six malls in 5 minutes, a new record.

The skyscrapers of Metro Manila and the cranes that have become a permanent feature fill the skyline, adding to the unerving feeling of insignificance. Unique and beautiful has become uniform and claustriphobic in a matter of minutes. Green has been replaced by grey and even the weather seems to be in a constant state of glum. Yet in all its shameful glory, a charm still remains.

It buzzes and hums with life. Despiration and despair interlaced with hope and excitement.
A city craving acceptance.
A Desire to explore. To find that redeeming quality in the unconventional beauty.

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