I applauded the world last night. Despite the horrific situation in the Middle East, despite the bumbling government system, despite myself, there exists a hope for mankind.
Our car's spark plug is kaput. We took the jeep to SM and back. The ride home was unexpectedly pleasant. It was the only time in the world that I took public transport and didn't mind so much the assault to my nostrils. You would think you were in another planet. The people in the jeep were kind and polite to one another. Yes, really. In place of the common cuss-words I heard the words "Sorry," "Paki," "Excuse me," and "Salamat." Really.
I've never enjoyed a jeepney ride more.
Isabela has taken to watching telenovelas. And because of it she has developed a highly amusing habit of acting out. She would say of some unfortunate situation as a kitchen spill, "Dios ko, lagot ka." In the bathroom she would laugh like Sally as I pour water over her head. Sometimes she would even lie still and say things like, "Patay na ako. Lagyan mo ako ng flowers pati lights." My daughter is only two and a half years old and already she has vivid ideas of the dark side of life.
I cannot think straight. This French guy beside me smells like a rotting corpse. I know he's French because I took a glimpse at his monitor and I read words such as "Le coe'ure" or something that spells like it. Maybe he's a French terrorist. I could feel my brain cells popping with every breath I take. Even camote-powered fart doesn't smell this bad. This is a very bad time to talk about politeness and goodwill.
Maybe some other time. I have to get out. Goodbye.
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