From the window seat

Among the simple pleasures of my 36-kilometer daily commute to school is sitting by the window while a random song blasts through my earphones. I ride a bus, a jeepney, and a tricycle almost every day, and I’ve memorized each tree, house, and stoplight through my extensive commute. Traveling is a weary sacrifice, but I have turned this into a sublime quest for the mundane.

Commuting is not just simply sitting inside a vehicle, but a chance to connect to the world around me. There are days when a group of students will ask for directions, help a lady lift her baggage, pass fares to the driver, and have conversations with strangers. These small acts of kindness give more significance to my existence, and these conversations made me realize that these traveling people, aside from their luggage, carry their distinctive stories, too.

One random Wednesday, a middle-aged lady going to Mindoro sat beside me on the bus. She carried a backpack and a tote full of pasalubong. Since the bus was almost full, she was separated from her husband. Unsure of how much the fare was, she asked me how to read her bus ticket. We had a chitchat that turned into a meaningful conversation about life and family.

Traveling also has its share of appalling encounters. Times when a passenger and driver would fight, getting a headache while paralyzed in traffic, discomfort due to the confined seats, long lines in terminals, the epic race during evening rush hour, and the entirety of the trip itself. But there is no space for complaints because they are a part of the journey.

Last week, I went to Manila. As a probinsyano, the skyscrapers and skyways felt foreign to me. Everything that travels at a constant speed seems to accelerate twice as if the roads were collapsing behind. There was so much going on in the metro, where people were in an endless procession to ride and commute. I’ve never quite seen anything like it. The arrival of the jeepney looked like a piece of bread dropped to a flock of birds. I wondered how people survive this kind of daily setup. Was this normal? Or people somehow tailored themselves to endure the adversities that the government fails to see? Somehow, it felt unfair to me watching them swarm while I sat inside an air-conditioned bus. Do we deserve this? I wish I had never sat beside the window that time.

In contrast, there were also times when kindness and humanity manifested themselves inside public vehicles. Like when somebody would pay for someone’s fare or offer their shoulder to a sleepy student. We commute, ride, travel. Would it be selfish to desire and wish for comfort and accessibility from the higher-ups to give us a smooth avenue to reach our distinct destinations, metaphorically, and literally?

The majority may see this as a mere tableau of mundanity, but to me, this prosaic likeness is what makes it an odd metaphor for life. I realized that the entirety of our life is an endless journey, a trip to define the very meaning of our existence through our patterned living, to a definition that can be deduced only if you see beyond what’s visible.

Each passenger commutes to survive life, and each of them bears untold narratives. Though I may not know each premise, their dedication and perseverance are the prologue of their life. Through all these “supercuts” of windowpane moments, my constant travelling gave me a lot of realization; that the desire to arrive at your destination is more important than anything else. Everyone is constantly traveling, not to work or school, but toward their existence.

My eyes have seen many faces: inside the bus, on pavements, in bookstores, and in restaurants. Overheard conversations through loud phone calls inside a jeepney, laughed secretly at couples’ cheesy text messages that I read from my periphery, and talked to a total stranger on the back of a tricycle. These scenarios are pretty normal if you commute a lot. You’ll be exposed to different kinds of strangers who are also traveling to their destinations.

As a student commuter, aside from my leather bag and the books inside, I also carry a vision of certainty, that no matter what road we take and wheels we ride, every one of us will arrive at the destination that we always aimed to be.