The First and Second Bus Rides

The official start of my nomadic existence was way back in my college days. I was an ordinary poor lad then performing magical feats to make my meager allowance last till the next, uhm, alms (okay, allowance). But that situation did not stop me from having fun! No, sir! I was at the prime of my life and I would not kill myself drooling at my friends having fun spending their parents’ hard-earned money. A crucial time came when my school org., the Society for Tourism Advancement and Growth (STAG) scheduled an outing to Cuenca, Batangas. I scrimped and saved enough money so I can join the trip. But fate of fates, I was left behind. The next logical thing was to follow them, no matter what it took, as long as my total expense didn’t go beyond one hundred pesos. Unfortunately for me, the end destination was not Cuenca but another municipality called Lemery. I did not know where the heck was Cuenca, I asked around and the best information that I got was there would be a bridge and some zigzag roads. If I made the mistake of alighting at the wrong point, I may have to walk numerous kilometers or admit defeat and catch another bus back to Manila.

Fast forward. I found the bus terminal (its BLTB along EDSA in Pasay) and the right bus going through Cuenca. It was not leaving until after an hour so I had the chance to observe what was happening around in the terminal. It was sort of chaotic. Hundreds of people were in the terminal. A lot of them were passengers like me waiting for or looking for the right bus. Luckily, a Lemery-bound bus departs every one and a half hours and one immediately takes its place as soon as the last bus departs. I got a nice, window seat at near the end of the bus. It was almost noon when the bus started to depart.

I thought all buses operate the same way like the way done in the buses plying the EDSA route. The bus conductor comes near you, asks for your destination, you give the money and he gives you the ticket. Well, it’s quite different in provincial buses.

I went to the ticket window and the officer told me that I could pay for my fare to the conductor. So I just readied my money. The first time the conductor got near me, I immediately readied to hand him my precious one hundred pesos. He ignored my money and just asked me my direction. The second time he came near me, he gave me my bus ticket. Again, the money remained in my hand. It was only on the third visit that he took my payment. Such protocol!

The bus was quite full with some children stationed about three seat rows in front of me. The fresh, noon winds caressed my oily face as the bus shot through the south expressway. I kept thinking about the zigzag road and the bridge as if the words became my mantra. The kids and their parents kept eating and throwing plastics out of the bus window. That entire scene and my long mantra took about thirty minutes without interruption.

Then one of the kids put his head way out of the window, and he started…. right, …. puking! I couldn’t curse him, he was just a kid! I had to keep my cool even if I was only three rows behind him; and his by-products, powered by strong winds, would surely hit me. So I just closed my window and watched the poor kid take out everything. I mean, everything including what seemed like his green-colored stomach fluids.

It took about 20 minutes of hell for the kid while I tried to keep my focus on the road and watched out for the zigzag road and the bridge… the zigzag road and the bridge….

Although the exhausted kid stopped doing his thing after some long minutes, I kept my window shuttered. Never mind the breeze. And I was glad I made the right decision! One lady who was two seats to my front was eating a green mango with bagoong. The wind blew away her bagoong and some bits got plastered on my window. Phew!

The bus zigged and zagged and finally crossed a long bridge. My heart leaped and I asked my seatmate the name of the town we were in. He answered “Cuenca,” and that became the start of my nomadic life.

The second bus ride was less adventurous. I was scheduled to go to Legaspi City in Albay for a mountaineering activity on Mayon Volcano. I was still new at the Department of Tourism and it was going to be my first very long bus ride of about 12 hours.

I did everything according to the books. I bought a ticket in advance and went to the improvised bus station in Ermita, Manila.

There were about eight of us passengers waiting at the ticketing station. At 15 minutes before 7:00 P.M., the guard told us that the bus had arrived. So off we went to the bus parked in a dark corner of the streets. There were about three buses parked in the area and I took the nearest one. Each ticket had a corresponding seat number and I dutifully took my numbered seat. I was carrying a huge backpack and everybody was staring at me (I think I was only paranoid then). Every seat was filled in no time and the bus prepared for the departure. The conductor started inspecting the tickets making sure that everybody was in his right seat. When he came to me, I gave him my ticket. I was very confident I was in the right seat. But with a startled face, the conductor immediately told me that I was in the wrong bus! I could not believe it! Did he mean that there were actually a lot of bus companies using the same terminal? All the three buses were about to leave and I grabbed my ticket and ran the entire length of the bus. Never mind the snickering people as long as I get on my right bus!

There are actually a lot of adventures that can happen on a long bus trip. Unlucky are the unprepared and the naïve; their adventures may actually become misadventures. So let my tips (taken from actual experiences) prepare you for your long bus trips.

Bags placed overhead are potential projectiles. Check the ones placed on your top and have a sound sleep

Do not place your bag on the floor! Somebody might be silently puking while the bus travels
At a stop-over, always remember your bus number and do not take more than 15 minutes to get back to your bus

For the guys, some buses are equipped with a comfort room. As much as possible, do not use it while the bus is running, especially if you’re traveling on a zigzag road. For the ladies, as much as possible, do not touch any surface inside the comfort room.

In the hot noon hours, the bus air condition would be short of a glorified abaniko; but in the evening, just when you would want to be sound asleep inspite of the bumps, engine noise and the snoring seatmate, that same air con would really freeze the butt of anybody unprepared for the cold. So, bring a jacket or even a blanket.