Of Melancholic Train Ride.

Yesterday, I met my sister for some girl bonding time. I'm frequently abroad so we rarely have the chance to hangout. She wanted to show me her new place at Torre Lorenzo, just beside DLSU in Taft. Since it's Saturday, there was major traffic in every road, so I opted to take the train instead. In Korea, taking the train is something I do on a daily basis. But here in the Philippines, I rarely get the opportunity to try it, so I brought my camera along. But when I took the camera out and started clicking, people began to stare at me in disbelief. Taking pictures of the train is something so unusual perhaps that they couldn't help but stare.









The train station is just a stone-throw away from our house, so getting there is never a problem. But since I'm not in any way familiar with the purple and yellow line (I only know the MRT blue line), I had a hard time 'transferring' from Recto station to Dorotheo Jose. I can't seem to find the pathway sis was talking about. But after a couple of phonecalls and missed turns, I was able to find the bridge that connects the two stations. The cold airconditioner inside the train brought relief to my sun burnt skin. As I sat comfortably in the cool chair, sipping the green buko-pandan smoothie I purposely got for her, and despite the obnoxious stares people are throwing at me, I fell into a whirlwind of daydreaming about my Korean life that was temporarily put on hold. I miss Chris, and I miss everything about his country. I miss the pushy ajummas on the subway, and their stiff handbags that always hurt my elbows. I miss how I instinctively breathe through my mouth everytime I sat close to an ajussi that reeks of stale soju and cigarettes. I miss the never-ending giggles of middle-school kids, standing by the door, gossiping about every famous, make-up wearing, lip-synching boyband there is.. I even miss the noisy and overly enthusiastic vendors selling all kinds of things from umbrella, to gloves, even kitchen shears. Somehow, that train ride going to my sister's house felt oddly quiet and empty. When I finally arrived at my stop, I was limp like a cookie thrown into a cup of tea. It's probably the heat, humidity, or the headache-causing text message tones I incessantly heard from the train, I was tired and not in good spirits. And if not for her contagious cheerfulness, the afternoon would've dragged...