Nosebleeds and stories of home

There are still many things I don't know, like why my classmates in UP almost always get shocked whenever I tell them for the first time that I come from a distant island called Mindanao, in Koronadal City, South Cotabato.

There's a terrible weirdness to this. For one, Mindanao does exist, doesn't it? And then, the UP student population is compised of students coming from different parts of the country (yes, from Luzon. Visayas and Mindanao)--it's a fact that is known by UP students as Chemistry majors know the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle.

"Really, Lance? So ang layo n'un!" Their eyes would be disfigured in unbelief.

"Uh-uh," I'd say.

"So namimiss mo na talaga ang family mo."

"Hindi naman masyado. Of course, at times, you can't help but miss them."

Then they would go on with their mantras on how they couldn't possibly live outside their houses because then they wouldn't get to enjoy the comforts of TV, of home-cooked food, and sometimes, of their mothers' excessive and impossible errands.

"Do you ride the plane, the ship, or the bus when you go home?" they'd ask.

"Most of the time, I take the plane." I'd go on to tell them that round trip plane tickets (Manila to General Santos) cost more than our tuition fee for one semester.

They would get so shocked that I would have to call the doctor to administer drugs that would pacify them. Blood would rush out of their nostrils, their eyes would redden, and their palms would get so sweaty and clammy.

I'm exaggerating, of course. That only happens during exams.