In transit
The taxi driver told me his wife is Manny Pacquiao's cousin. Manny is a big name in the country, but he is worshiped in Gen San, even regarded as a living saint in Sarangani. I don't really care much for boxing which I have come to associate with Parkinson's Disease, even if there isn't much evidence for it. (See Lolekha et al, Mov Disord. 2010 Sep 15;25(12):1895-901.)
I got to the airport two hours before departure, a rule my parents insisted that I obey to the letter. I was the first one to check in. No, I did not do a Claudine.
While in the pre-departure area I was too bored I picked up where I left off from Douglas Adams' The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series, and I started reading the second novel, The Restaurant at the End of the Universe. A good laugh was just what I needed after the depressing Blood Meridian.
As I was boarding, I met Paolo who studies in same med school as I do. "I'd been going to the gym with your father," he said. "His muscles are huge." My sixty-year old father is just as proud of his bulky biceps as he is of his senior-citizen card, through which he gets 20% off on almost anything.
I took the 9:40 am flight via Cebu Pacific, and the ride was uneventful, except for the old American whose legs were cramped because the man in front of him had his seat reclined.
There's nothing quite like the sticky, humid discomfort to remind me that I'm back in Manila—a fact that dawned on me as I passed through Taft Avenue around lunch time. I may have missed a lot of things in the big city, but not the necessity of having to take a bath more than twice a day.
I helped out in Agape's booth during the freshmen orientation and talked about transcriptions and why they're so important. I met the new breed of would-be doctors, many of them excited, some bored. When I was in their place three years ago, I just wanted the entire program to be done with. A couple of them confessed that they've read my blog at one point in time. To this day I don't know to react to such statements, except with a heartfelt "thank you (and sorry for sometimes wasting your time)." Really, thanks for visiting. Knowing that I'm not just talking to myself gives me a sense of relief.
I got to the airport two hours before departure, a rule my parents insisted that I obey to the letter. I was the first one to check in. No, I did not do a Claudine.
While in the pre-departure area I was too bored I picked up where I left off from Douglas Adams' The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series, and I started reading the second novel, The Restaurant at the End of the Universe. A good laugh was just what I needed after the depressing Blood Meridian.
As I was boarding, I met Paolo who studies in same med school as I do. "I'd been going to the gym with your father," he said. "His muscles are huge." My sixty-year old father is just as proud of his bulky biceps as he is of his senior-citizen card, through which he gets 20% off on almost anything.
I took the 9:40 am flight via Cebu Pacific, and the ride was uneventful, except for the old American whose legs were cramped because the man in front of him had his seat reclined.
There's nothing quite like the sticky, humid discomfort to remind me that I'm back in Manila—a fact that dawned on me as I passed through Taft Avenue around lunch time. I may have missed a lot of things in the big city, but not the necessity of having to take a bath more than twice a day.
I helped out in Agape's booth during the freshmen orientation and talked about transcriptions and why they're so important. I met the new breed of would-be doctors, many of them excited, some bored. When I was in their place three years ago, I just wanted the entire program to be done with. A couple of them confessed that they've read my blog at one point in time. To this day I don't know to react to such statements, except with a heartfelt "thank you (and sorry for sometimes wasting your time)." Really, thanks for visiting. Knowing that I'm not just talking to myself gives me a sense of relief.
Labels: journal
posted on June 05, 2012
2 Comments:
Hi Kuya Lance! This is Jeric, a member of Class 2017. I just want you to know that I am an avid reader of your blog. Gusto sana kitang kausapin noong Tambay Hop, pero nahiya ako. haha! pero I am looking forward to talking with you, and knowing you personally. :)
Ikaw talaga, huwag ka nang mahiya, Jeric! 'Pag makita mo ako sa PGH o sa College, magpakilala ka lang. God bless you on your first year!
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