Sunday, June 08, 2008 Estremera: There's serenity in 'tunganga,' but... By Stella A. Estremera Spider's Web
THE past week saw me enjoying what I perceive as the best vacation mode: "tunganga."
It's not even about watching the world go by, it's letting the whole world pass by, unwatched, unnoticed, knowing full well that whether you decide to be part of everything that's going on or just let everything slide past is a decision, you yourself have to make. Most of the time, I opted for the second, to be a non-participant.
It was bliss. More bliss because along with making tunganga came lots of bus trips, where again, you do not have anything else to do but make more tunganga.
It was learning to accept life as it comes -- no rush, no impatience, and no irritation. It's accepting that you're stuck inside the bus and that you were unlucky to have been born unable to read while inside a running vehicle lest have to contend with severe motion sickness. (I'm just glad such inability doesn't apply to plane rides.) And so you stare outside, not letting irritation, impatience, boredom or whatever stressful emotion sneaks into your consciousness. The seconds passing by with just about the same bearing as the last tree that zipped past -- parang wala lang.
It's accepting the reality that in every stop, there will be a vendor or two waving his foodstuff on your face; but you just give him a grin as you shake your head, and a whispered, "No, thank you." No irritation, no anger, no care.
It's finding humor in every situation, instead of being disturbed by the loud noises around you. "Aaaayyy chicharon, chicaron, original, bagong luto!" the vendor's stringy voice pipes out. And you whisper as the vendor walks away, "You mean there's fake chicharon?"
For one week, there was no rush, nothing was planned. No one was saying I must. It was always, "You want to...?" And except for a few irresistible prospects, my answer was a consistent "no", with the silly grin associated with making tunganga plastered on my face.
It was such bliss; I thought I have perfected making tunganga by the end of my vacation, along with learning to live a life of serenity.
I was wrong...
Like it always had, Manila proved once more that it could wreak havoc on any unsuspecting soul; scuttling all the serenity I have achieved in that weeklong "tunganga"... in just one hour. I was doing okay in my two days back there. I browsed around Music One and Power Books, I sampled their restaurants, their supermarket and scoffed at the poor choices available in their wine cellar, I mingled with friends, I let life rush past, until...
The horrendous Manila traffic decided to rear its head.
No amount of serenity, ennui, self-possession, tranquility... and all new age ek could dispute the fact that your taxi wasn't moving for almost half an hour already and you're still kilometers away from the airport.
As soon as the taxi parked at the Centennial Airport drive, I rushed off, my trolley bag screeching behind me, and skidded to a stop at the ticket counter, sweat pouring all over my body, my breathing coming in gasps.
"Ma'am, meron pa pong dalawa pang bagahe (Ma'am, there are two more baggage to be loaded in)," the counter attendant called out to her supervisor at the other end of the counter. I was the last person to be let in and it was already boarding time.
So much for serenity, tunganga, and letting the world go by unbothered, unstressed... I was cursing at every darn vehicle we passed by on the way to the airport that day. Vacation was indeed over, along with it... peace.
