Skip to main content

ओपन एयर (कों बस)

Open air-con bus

ALIN ang mas nakakahiya, makita ng madla na nangungulangot o umamin sa pag-utot?

Agad na inilipat ang talapihitan ng radyo sa 98.7 FM… ibang usapan, panayam sa isang babaeng manunulat ng mga librong crime thriller, inuungkat ang diskarte niya sa pananaliksik at pagsusulat. Now, that’s the kind of earful that I won’t take offense at… it has respect for me as an erudite, maybe, learned listener… kaya hindi mabubulungan ni Satanas na bibigyan niya ako ng kahit ilang nuclear warheads para burahin sa balat ng lupa at sa himpapawid ang naunang istasyon ng radyong bumulaga sa pandinig.

‘Yung mapapakinggan at mapapanood ang isa sa mga pangunahing dahilan kaya mas mahilig kaming sumakay sa open air(con bus)… tipid kahit konti sa pasahe, at karaniwang walang ‘kakapikang radyo na magbubuhos ng usapang imburnal o DVD player na magpapalabas ng mga tagpo ng pelikulang karima-rimarim.

Lack of such contraptions in those buses won’t allow the bus driver to inflict his execrable taste for sights or ‘sounds’ on the hapless commuter.

Hindi na baleng sumagap ng lahat ng alimuom, alikabok at usok-tambutso mula lansangan… basta huwag na lang mapika’t makapag-isip kung paano uupakan ng weapons of mass destruction ang mga bugok at gunggong na kapural ng mass distraction.


Hindi naman siguro mga busabos ang mga tsuper ng bus sa Cebu—palihug, sa lugar lang, bay—na nagpumilit sa LTFRB… na kahit daw patuloy umaakyat ang presyo ng krudo, hindi raw sila gagaya sa mga bus sa Metro-Manila na nagkukumahog na patawan ng mas mabigat na parusa sa bulsa ang karaniwang commuters. Ibinalik nila sa P6 ang singil sa minimum fare.


That’s a show of sensitivity and consideration
. Isa pa sigurong malinaw na asenso sa lansangan kung mas maraming public utility vehicles na masasakyan ko ang nakapako ang radyo sa 98.7 FMclassical music ang ibinubusina ng naturang himpilan. At iba ang bisa ng classical music on attention span, focus, and brain energy levels…

In an independent traffic study done on a major thoroughfare in the western corridor of the metropolis, it was found that (1) infrastructures—and the route was wide enough to accommodate vehicles of all sizes-- to ease flow of both pedestrian and vehicular traffic were in place, (2)traffic laws on road use and safety are more than enough, and (3) traffic signs were in order… yet, that thoroughfare was bedeviled every hour on the hour by monster traffic jams. What was wrong?

Without batting an eyelash, the surveyors told it like it is: “You Filipinos have an attitude problem in the streets. That’s the root of the traffic problems that you have in every bit of by-way or major highway.”


Gano’n lang ang ugat ng suliranin ng Filipino sa trapik… pati na drug trafficking.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Every single cell of my body's happy

I got this one from Carmelite Sisters from whose school three of my kids were graduated from. They have this snatch of a song that packs a fusion metal and liebeslaud beat and whose lyrics go like this: "Every single cell of my body is happy. Every single cell of my body is well. I thank you, Lord. I feel so good. Every single cell of my body is well." Biology-sharp nerds would readily agree with me in this digression... Over their lifetimes, cells are assaulted by a host of biological insults and injuries. The cells go through such ordeals as infection, trauma, extremes of temperature, exposure to toxins in the environment, and damage from metabolic processes-- this last item is often self-inflicted and includes a merry motley medley of smoking a deck a day of Philip Morris menthols, drinking currant-flavored vodka or suds, overindulgence in red meat or the choicest fat-marbled cuts of poultry and such carcass. When the damage gets to a certain point, cells self-de

ALAMAT NG TAHONG

SAKBIBI ng agam-agam sa kalagayan ng butihing kabiyak-- at kabiyakan, opo-- na nakaratay sa karamdaman, ang pumalaot na mangingisda ay napagawi sa paanan ng dambuhalang Waczim-- isang bathala na nagkakaloob sa sinuman anumang ibulwak ng bibig mula sa bukal ng dibdib. Pangangailangan sa salapi na pambili ng gamot ng kapilas-pusong maysakit ang nakasaklot sa puso ng matandang mangingisda. 'Di kaginsa-ginsa'y bumundol ang kanyang bangka sa paanan ng Waczim. Kagy at umigkas ang katagang kimkim noon sa kanyang dibdib: "Salapi!" Bumuhos ng salapi-- mga butil at gilit ng ginto-- mula papawirin. At halos umapaw sa ginto ang bangka ng nagulantang na mangingisda, walang pagsidlan ang galak, at walang humpay ang pasasalamat sa mga bathala. Nanumbalik ang kalusugan ng kabiyak ng mangingisda. At lumago ang kabuhayan, naging mariwasa ang magkapilas-puso na dating maralita. Nilasing ng kanyang mga dating kalapit-bahay ang mangingisda-- na hindi ikina

Wealth garden

‘TWAS CRUEL as smashing a budding green thumb: some years back, an abuela warned me about letting any clump of katigbi (Job’s tears or Coix lachrymal jobi for you botanists) from growing in our homeyard. That grass with rapier-like leaves that smelled of freshly pounded pinipig supposedly invited bad luck and sorrows—why, that biblical character Job wailed and howled a lot, didn’t he? (But was later rewarded with oodles of goodies, wasn’t he?) Then, I came across some arcane text that practically goaded folks to grow katigbi in their gardens—why, there’s a starchy kernel wrapped shut in the seed’s shiny coat. A handful or more of kernels could be cooked as porridge. Too, one could whisper a wish upon seven seed pods, throw ‘em pods in running water—a river or stream—and the wish would be granted! I was warned, too, about planting kapok or talisay trees right in the homeyard—these trees form a cross-like branching pattern. Pasang-krus daw ang bahay na kalapit sa puno ng kapok, tal