It's been a rough two weeks.
I would easily qualify for a frequent rider or platinum card reward if provincial buses plying the Manila-Nueva Ecija route issue travel points to their passengers.
4 am wake up calls, a cigarette or two until the bus comes, breakfasts at McDonald, taxi rides to wherever and then the bus station, and bland dinners in La Paz have become a way of life.
Candy Crush kept me company most of the time.
Still, a box of freshly cooked Goldilocks bihon guisado washed with Coke during a high rise meeting somewhere along Panay Avenue miserably failed to assuage the routine-ness of it all.
After another early trip to Manila and another meeting along Elliptical Road where a mother-and-son-in-a-taxi was just ambushed by a riding-in-tandem, I flagged a cab, hauled my luggage that was intended for a 4-day road trip, and absentmindedly told the driver to take me to the bus station for the trip back to Nueva Ecija.
The round-trip routine has become a hard core habit.
Thus was a British knight and a forum at the National Museum got snubbed.
Should I join a 2-day assessment and planning session in Batangas?
I decided it was more likely not while I nibbled on the fried corn served at the wake of somebody else' dead mother.
But that night, I dreamed of the band and the dancers who perform at funerals.
So early morning the next day, I was back on the bus after killing a cigarette, worked the Candy Crush, took a taxi from Quezon Avenue, had breakfast at Kenny Rogers' for a change, and endured an uneventful 2-hour trip to Talisay.
The sotanghon guisado served with sweet-and-sour tilapia steaks, buttered vegetables, beef kaldereta, and pork asado was an omen of the good choice I made.
Club Balai Isabel is a blast of fresh air.
I'm glad I'm here.
I would easily qualify for a frequent rider or platinum card reward if provincial buses plying the Manila-Nueva Ecija route issue travel points to their passengers.
4 am wake up calls, a cigarette or two until the bus comes, breakfasts at McDonald, taxi rides to wherever and then the bus station, and bland dinners in La Paz have become a way of life.
Candy Crush kept me company most of the time.
Still, a box of freshly cooked Goldilocks bihon guisado washed with Coke during a high rise meeting somewhere along Panay Avenue miserably failed to assuage the routine-ness of it all.
After another early trip to Manila and another meeting along Elliptical Road where a mother-and-son-in-a-taxi was just ambushed by a riding-in-tandem, I flagged a cab, hauled my luggage that was intended for a 4-day road trip, and absentmindedly told the driver to take me to the bus station for the trip back to Nueva Ecija.
The round-trip routine has become a hard core habit.
Thus was a British knight and a forum at the National Museum got snubbed.
Should I join a 2-day assessment and planning session in Batangas?
I decided it was more likely not while I nibbled on the fried corn served at the wake of somebody else' dead mother.
But that night, I dreamed of the band and the dancers who perform at funerals.
So early morning the next day, I was back on the bus after killing a cigarette, worked the Candy Crush, took a taxi from Quezon Avenue, had breakfast at Kenny Rogers' for a change, and endured an uneventful 2-hour trip to Talisay.
The sotanghon guisado served with sweet-and-sour tilapia steaks, buttered vegetables, beef kaldereta, and pork asado was an omen of the good choice I made.
Club Balai Isabel is a blast of fresh air.
I'm glad I'm here.
