View from the Bus Window

Sometimes I wish I were in Manila with my fabulous job in a travel magazine. Then, I would wake up at 10 or 12 noon, brunch in Greenbelt then go to work at 2pm till about 9 or 10 pm. Depending on the schedule, we usually attend parties of our advertisers then hit the sack at very ungodly hours of the mornings. Again, the same story the day after and the next.

Here in Spain, I do not have the luxury of waking up with the sun already burning my face. At the sound of my alarm at 7:30 sharp, I force myself to shower and have my first caffeine intake of the day with of course, a thousand fags while my eyes are still half closed.

Today is my uncle is off (we work in the same building; he drives) and that means waking up extra early to get the bus to work. I despise taking public transport. As I have written in my previous posts, I would rather take a taxi and not eat the whole week rather than suffering from waiting and then squeezing myself into a bus. However, my office is about an hour drive from where I live and I yet have to find a rich, oil magnate for a boyfriend before I could afford to get to work everyday in a cab or better yet, a limo.
Anyway, going back to the horros of public transport in Spain: Once, the driver did not give me a ride since he didn´t have a change for a ten euro bill. Most of the time, they just ignored me with my hands waving up in the air. Believe me, I am not that small not to be seen.

The wind today is extremely strong.

The bus stop is full of tourists, as always. Here in the coast, you could spot the difference between tourists and residents at first glance. Tourists are almost naked even if it is about 10 degrees celcius while everyone else are wrapped up. I wondered why they don´t feel cold at all. My uncle always tells me, ¨ they have the skin of a carabao (water buffalo)¨. I´ve never seen a carabao so white before.

I got into the bus with caution. In the Fuengirola bus station, I have seen a tourist being robbed at daylight.

Sitting impatiently to arrive at work, I wondered what my life could have been if I did not leave Manila. I must have been a totally different person by now. I could have been SOMEONE by now.

Spain has changed me in a lot of ways. I have matured since I ´ve been here. Physically, mentally and everything in between. I´ve learned a lot about life. Damn, I´ve even learned a new language! However, it is inevitable to miss home especially at times like these when you sit on an almost empty early morning bus, the vast mediterranean sea staring at you...filling your already filled head with thoughts of friends and family you haven´t seen for the past three years. I haven´t seen my brother since he worked in the middle east and back. Now, he is going abroad again for a job, chances are, I wouldn´t see him again for the next two years. My niece is turning 4 years old and I never had the chance to read her a fairytale yet. My friends, they are building their own families and I´m getting more and more godchildren each year. If I stayed in Manila, could it be that I have my own children by now?

The bus stops to a hilt. I´m here.