For the most part of living, I believe that shit happens. And it must be sheer luck that even if all of the emotional baggage threatened to topple over during the previous month, I remain considerably sane. Of course, wallowing in sadness isn’t always bad, it’s therapeutic even, for sometimes I suppose it’s all right to stay up all night and just cry, but nothing goes wrong in trying to be happy as well. Or smiling, at least. Or refraining from writing too much about sadness and happiness and things I know nothing of.
So now I write about love.
Love of going to places, that is. Thanks to an invitation from the ever-accommodating mother of our friend Collinder, my first summer out-of-town trip this year has finally pushed through on the first day of May. I owe this to my parents as well, although I shouldered the expenses myself, for they allowed me to go to Pandi in Bulacan (which father said was napakalayo as if he didn’t know I’ve been there before), and spend the night there with the girls (Raclave, Seb and Tinderella), even on a short notice, even though my sole reason was makikipista po.
The girls and I agreed to meet at McDo Farmers where we’d board a bus bound for Bulacan. This particularly troubled me because if I’d name a place I occasionally pass by for certain school-related meet-ups but could hardly memorize the twists and turns, it would be Cubao. I pushed my luck nonetheless and ended up at the edge of nowhereness. To put it simply, yes, I got lost in Cubao for the umpteenth time in history. Seb and Tinderella fetched me in front of Booksale near Shopwise, and under the scorching heat of the summer sun, we walked our way to McDo Farmers just in time for Raclave’s arrival.
At Collinder’s home, which exuded the typical barrio fiesta vibe with the presence of a buffet table and a videoke, we did nothing but talk of random things, gripe about the weather, refuse offers of belting a hit in the videoke, and eat every after an hour or two. Pampered guests we were.
Staying overnight had not been planned earlier until Collinder’s mother suggested that we spend the night there.
When the sun had finally set, we set foot to the carnival as well. I laughed at the people shrieking on the ferris wheel at first, and when it’s our turn to ride it, I understood the reason why. It’s been ten years, more or less, since I last had the ferris wheel experience so perhaps I’ve forgotten the thrill until that night. I ended up cussing and laughing while on the ride, pleading Tinderella and Seb not to move too much as we might be out of balance.
Tried out the horror train next. At which point we almost died… of laughter. We also fancied the elephant, that carousel-like ride, only that there were dumbos all around instead of horses. But then we noticed that most of the riding population were toddlers so we thought again. Sa laki kong ‘to?! Raclave exclaimed. So we just opted for the dragon ride and went back to our host’s place afterward.
All resolved to stay the night, we watched Let the Right One In (Låt den rätte komma in) before sleeping and set the alarm clocks for our early morning trip back to Manila. If we had only brought more clothes, we could have stayed until Collinder’s birthday on the 13th. Right, girls?
But seriously, that single day is enough to make me happy. Or smile, at least. Or refrain from writing too much about sadness and happiness and things I know nothing of.