Tomas Morato

At 8:30 AM the radio's taxi blared something like Grin Department and its ambiguous lyrics and often snarky line cuts (though it could be another band--I'll Google it); the previous taxi drivers didn't have much, maybe some love songs in the morning, or traffic updates, or even, as in last Saturday night's, a debate between the announcer and a UP professor on the planned removal (?) of Filipino subjects in the college curriculum, an especially absorbing moment in all the cab rides I took in the span of a few days, thanks to my frequent visits to commuter-snob Tomas Morato to get my wife's laptop repaired. Even the PBO movies flashed at the repair shop ("you can change the channels if you want," one of the staff said) were laudatory: two days ago it was Dina Bonnevie, Ariel Rivera and Cherie Gil in a family hostage crisis of some sort set in New York; today it was Dina Bonnevie, this time a third wheel entangled in Vilma Santos and Edu Manzano's marriage. Both are from the early '90s, with the Filipino family at its spotlight, reshaped by modern times. All this was a different take on my mornings, disturbing the work-house routine. After this, the repairs would probably be over, and there was no reason to go back to Tomas Morato; the neighborhood can bore you. If not for its Boy Scout history, what else but restaurants, or the occasional trysts and arguments from with sweetheart at the sidewalk, or a tofu shop popping out of nowhere.