The long and winding road

While on the road, I poke Sean's armpits and wait for his punch. I need to do something—a painful distraction—before the long, winding curve gets the better of me. Travel-induced nausea, I call it, one of the worst feelings in the world.

The commute from Koronadal to Davao takes four hours, give or take. I've been to longer land trips, but I find the journey to Davao the most stressful. I blame the tortuous, torturous roads in the Matulas area which stretch all the way to the Sarangani - Davao del Sur border. 

Two seats in front of us, a lady already looks wasted. The man beside her, probably her husband, hands her a white plastic bag. She brings it close to her mouth. I hear her gag, like a bulimic after a giant pizza meal. What used to be churned food stored in her stomach antrum is now officially out into the open. I wish she had taken Bonamine.

"What?" Sean flinches. His I've-just-gotten-into-REM-sleep-and-you-woke-me-up reflex is normally a punch at my biceps, but my brother seems at peace.

"I don't feel so well," I tell my him. "I don't like this road."

"Look over there." My brother points to an area of lush vegetation overlooking the cliff. "My classmate owns that plantation."

"You mean, that girl who joined a local beauty pageant?"

"No, the other one," he says. "They own a lot of money, you know? And they're really nice."

The conversation goes on, until we realize that there's been a change of scenery. For a change, we're seeing the blue sea now. My vestibular system stabilize, and I don't feel so bad anymore. The worst part is over.

"How much longer?" I ask Sean.

"Two hours, if the driver decides to hurry."

I look on to the road and feel as sigh of relief at the sight of the straight concrete. At this point the trip gets awfully boring, but I'm better off with it.

Honestly, who would prefer the crooked way?