Please Get Me There In One Piece

At three-quarters past nine in the morning of the 24th of November, I flew out of Melbourne to come to the city that never sleeps - not New York - but the vibrant, bustling, *hyperactive* city which is Hong Kong. What a relief it was for me to be aboard the plane and away from the grasp of anyone on land. You see, before I could hop onto my flight, I had to see myself to the airport.

It was early in the morning, and I ordered a cab for this trip. When the knock came, it was barely six o'clock, I flung open the door to see a man with the fieriest, angriest, biggest, curliest hair I have ever seen at this time of the day. Quickly shaking off my initial astonishment and refocusing my gaze from his crop to my things, I proceeded to shift my luggage out of the house. And then... a maxi cab...?!?!!! These maxi taxis are like vans and can sit around 10 people. I did not need a maxi cab! I did not order for one, there is only one of me and I have one check in luggage plus my laptop - that's it. But I was in a hurry so nevermind that I have to pay a premium for this and nevermind that the initial image that shot through my mind is a kidnap-runaway van for it was sort of beat-up and rough looking. I refused the suggestion of the cabbie that I sit in front, mumbling to him that I still have to kind of fix items inside my luggage... an odd reason actually. But I was a bit wary of this one and I thought that the picture on the ID displayed in his taxi did not really look like him, or was I over-reacting? Having grown up in the Philippines, I could count with my ten fingers the number of times I have ridden a cab, and perhaps I still carry with me that defensiveness and suspicion that comes with inexperience and unfamiliarity of Manila taxi rides.

He was a chatty driver, which is fair enough, better a bit of talk than total awkward silence. The normal drill of where I am headed and where I was from. I thought he was a bit of a smooth talker.

Cabbie: "So, where are you from?"
Me: "I'm from Manila..."
Cabbie: "Aaaahhh... Manillllllaaaaaa! You are the most beautiful Filipino I have ever laid eyes on!"
Me: "Errr, naaah, perhaps you haven't met many Filipinos."
Cabbie: "No no no, I am serious. I have met many, and you are the most beautiful!"

The conversation went from friendly to too-friendly.

Cabbie: "How long will you be in Manila for?"

Me: "A couple of months...."

Cabbie: "So you are not in love!"

Me: "What do you mean?"

Cabbie: "If you are in love, you wouldn't be away for that long. You don't have a boyfriend?"

I just smiled and proceeded with my pretense of reorganising my carry-on luggage. But goodness gracious, he wouldn't stop.

Cabbie: "You know, I've had many girlfriends before... but none of them is really good."
Me: "Uh huh"
Cabbie: "Western girls, all they want is sex, sex, sex. But me, I want to talk, I want to be able to connect with someone with conversation, not just sex, sex, sex. Well, sex is important, but you know...."
Me: "Hmmmm...."

Creepy as!!! When a stranger starts talking like that, alarm bells should be ringing. Images of women cut up and dumped in the bush flashed in quick pulses in my head. While maintaining a calm composure, inside me, my heart was beating like crazy, and I quickly searched the inside of the van for any weapons I could use... just in case. The silence was once again broken when he spoke.

Cabbie: "So, what do you like to do... I mean, hobby, what's your hobby?"
Me: "I like swimming. I like sports."
Cabbie: "Wow! I didn't realise that! I was so concentrated on your eyes and face that I did not notice your body. You are truly beautiful."
Me: "You are just being kind."

And he went on and on and on, giving me the shivers all the more. Although Melbourne is a relatively safe place, there are still news of women being assaulted, and more recently the statistics on assault of women by taxi drivers has risen. And the danger signs are mostly when they start to get too friendly. I was already praying that I get to the airport in one piece.

Cabbie: "I will give you my mobile number. Will you send me a text when you are overseas?"
Me: "Ah... sure."
Cabbie: "Great, we are friends now... maybe we should catch up for coffee some time when you get back."

Me: "No problem."

Before I could even think, I have this Spanish dude's mobile number, and I have just made a promise that I have no intention of keeping - to send him a text and to catch up when I get back to Melbourne. We pulled up at the international departure area and I did not waste any time hopping out of the vehicle.

I would probably avoid taking a cab by myself in the future. Or have I just let my imagination run a tad bit wilder? Tell me.

Seasons Change

It is the coldest November day in Melbourne in five years... rain, hail, strong gusts of wind, it is like winter all over again. And I do not wonder why, I no longer question why. I have gotten used to the ever-changing seasons and temperature in this place I now call home, as I have gotten so used to the changes in our lives brought about by events and situations both controllable and uncontrollable, stirred by our personal experiences, thoughts, and beliefs - or those of another's. Sometimes they are easy to cope with or even bear, sometimes they form part of our lives' struggles, a lot of times we were the ones who evoked them. Someone once said that change happens not without inconvenience, and it is very true. Whatever resistance ultimately is won over by what needs to be. We deal with all sorts of them - birth, death, sickness, new relationships, the end of relationships, change of jobs, moving out, settling down... life will not be as round, plump, and full without them. Although some of these we fear or do not seek, they will come to us and we must accommodate, that is when our constant transformation happens. Many times, spirits would be wounded, but quite as often we are also uplifted.

My life have been richer with all that have come to me and all that I have embraced, struggled with, resisted and refused, coped with, fought with. I do become wary (at times) of the crossroads I have to face, and of the changing patterns of life, wondering and thinking how decisions I have made or will choose to make may affect not only myself but others. At the same time, my heart antcipates with flurry. Seasons will change, just like how this cold November day have come and will eventually go, fade to give way to a new day.