Journal
Last Four Stations
Out of all the mass transit systems available in the metro, the one I like most is the purple line that runs from Recto and ends in Santolan, or vice versa depending on where you’re coming from. It remains a favorite even though I don’t really get to enjoy it from end to end except on Saturdays when I usually go to church after work. In most days, I’ll be coming from Cubao, only four stations away from the last station in the east.
Araneta-Cubao station is a chaotic one (as stressed earlier in a Cubao-related post). It will take some getting used to if you’re not at ease with such crowds. There are many establishments around and you could go in whether you’re coming from Diamond Arcade or Gateway. There’s always a long queue about to welcome you as you go inside because there aren’t much ticket booths around so this could be a real bummer for those in a hurry.
What I like about this station is that security is tight. They’d always rummage through every nook and cranny of my bag, including my stealth laptop compartment and my innocent-looking gadget pouch. At one time, I was carrying with me a Kit-Kat cake, and even though it was obvious that I bought it fresh from the mall, they still felt the need to unbox it to make sure it was not gonna explode. Or probably I just look like a deranged terrorist from a faraway North Korean facility, hmmm.
Sometimes I also get pissed about the kitchen smells that emanate from the foodcarts scattered around the station. Sometimes I’d arrive at the office and my workmates would immediately assume that I brought them some steamed dumplings.
I’ve only been to Anonas station once, if I remember it right. Anonas serves as the jumpoff for the “real” Cubao residents. It has this certain vintage appeal that encapsulates what the old Manila was. Beside it is an old church, and some other establishments, mostly thrift shops. Yep, I remember it now. My ABS friends have been raving about the wide ukay selections in this area so one Saturday morning, after our graveyard shift, we went to this place. We scoured almost every store in the building, thanks to my expert ukay sniffer friends. It was an instant total body workout and darn these girls, Startalk was already on when we left! So, Anonas could be a girl’s best friend. Could be a Catholic girl’s best friend, too.
The third station, Katipunan, however, is my favorite among the four. First off, it’s fucking underground. I’ve had a lifelong fascination with tunnels. No one will ever understand why I like basement parkings, Ayala MRT station, and yes, even the underpass in Recto. I just like the feeling it gives me whenever I’m in a similarly enclosed area (in the same manner as how I’d enjoy going to malls to look over railings from the fifth floor to watch people walking at the ground floor). Tunnels are a marvel, how they’re made and which forces were used and how they don’t fill up with water when it rains. And If only I’d been more astute about my mathematical skills than this already elusive creative shit I’m in I’m sure I would’ve made a good engineer, as I’ve been repeatedly told.
So, moving on, Katips, as the posh crowd would call it, feels like a safe place. People would get off on this station in an orderly manner. Like after a while they would automatically form a line as they exit, which is so pleasant to look at. No food carts here, too, so no kitchen smells. Of course you’d see the occasional ad placements because of the absence of such food carts (next post should probably be about my growing hatred for food carts), but they’re not as tacky as the ones in the other stations.
Even the guards are so polite. Sometimes I wonder if they’re trained to handle all sorts of people like the salesladies in Rustans. Katipunan station is so smooth and so stealth it’s as if there’s no pollution, traffic, and pickpockets waiting for you outside.
Midway through Katipunan and Santolan, there’s always this one moment I await. I really like the part where the train takes a curve, then goes out of the darkness, then flashes of light seep through the solid columns that separate the train tracks from the land mass that is Marikina Valley (?) in calculated intervals, and goes into the train right before your eyes. Light, dark, light, dark. It almost never ends. If you’re a commuter, I urge you to observe it some time. I told myself, if I were to make a movie, I’d shoot this particular scene to illustrate a moment where the protagonist’s life flashes before her. She’d be sitting solo at the last carriage, facing the north, with her right hand on her chin. She never blinks as this happens. It’s too magical and too dreamlike for words.
Finally, we have Santolan. It’s the scariest. Whenever I get off this station I feel unattached from the “mainland” probably because of Marikina River. It feels farther away from home. And although people would think it’s the most vital since it’s one of the busiest and since everything starts or ends here, I just don’t get it. I don’t get why, after getting off from this station, people would still need to ride PUVs to their desired destinations. And usually, train tracks end where highways end, but in this case, it’s clearly not, since Marcos Highway is still a stretch away that probably extends up to the mountains.
If this is really it, commuters shouldn’t be left hanging. Commuters should be able to say they’re near the homestretch. For instance, I still have to take two rides from here to get to the office and each one is around less than four hundred meters. For me, it’s just a quick stop. It’s for those itching commuters like me tee hee. It’s a make believe oasis. Come on, let’s make believe we’re almost home and let’s make believe we need not take 36-peso trike rides to get to the nearest mall.
Oh, another thing. The barkers and conductors. The barkers can be quite intrusive. Sometimes I want to just lash out at them and tell them to fuck off because one, I’m not going to Antipolo, and two, I’m not going to Cainta, and three, I’m in a hurry and I’m not gonna wait for you to fill up your twenty-seater you fucktard. Shame on you for having less than three passengers right now. No matter how much I want you to apologize for invading my personal space, let’s just settle this in another lifetime as I need to hurry up as I’m gonna be semi-late for work so TTYL and I wish you all the luck in finding 17 more passengers who wouldn’t feel as harassed.
Oh, and finally, this is not the real Santolan. It’s tucked somewhere near my workplace, in a friendly, homey area. This is another faux Santolan, like that one in the blue line.
And may I just rant a little? This is a general LRT rant. You know, these mass transit PSAs, you don’t really pay attention to them. But one night I did. And I didn’t like what I heard.
Sa mga minamahal naming pasahero, maraming salamat sa inyong patuloy na pagtangkilik sa L-R-T. Hangad po namin ang inyong mapayapang paglalakbay. Para po sa kaligtasan ng lahat, iwasan po natin ang malakas na pakikipag-usap sa katabi, PAGSUSULAT, at ang malakas na pagpapatugtog sa cellphone o MP3.
I might have jumbled the order of words here but I was quite sure that I heard them say something about prohibiting passengers from writing inside the moving train. Or something. Was it just my imagination? Anybody who can confirm?
