talagang it was blustery yesterday morning. it was not december yet but there it was, my tropical ear lobes just decided to wither immediately then go lifeless on me in under two minutes after braving the brutal Manhattan elements. i mean the weather, of course. not its natives.
so when i finally saw the mud-splattered, snubbed nose of the M15 bus made an awkward nod toward the urine redolent bus stop i was shivering in somewhere in mid-Mahanttan, parang i had this instant psyche make-over. biglang naging Polyanna ang putang inang jaded and bitchy New York transplantee, mama.
pagkatapos kong i-swipe ang aking MTA fare card, dash, (yes, as in big, purposeful strides, hindi sashay) kaagad toward what I thought was a seat nearest the heater vent. pero, as i was walking toward that sweet spot in the bus (during winter lang ha), suddenly ang amoy ng buong bus really felt like home. iyung mga around noon time, iyong patapos pa lang ang paghahanda ng pananghalian. iyon bang nakasalang na lahat ang mga lutuin at pinapain-in na lang ang mga ito.
ano ito? esep ako ng esep kong ano itong very familiar na aroma na nalalanghap ko.
feeling Proust ang drama, only that this instant remembrance of things past was piqued not by tasting madeleines but by a really strong yet to be sorted out olfactory memory. which they say nga is tremendously stronger than the gustatory stimulus.
siguro, it took me like an entire minute (kakahiya no? naturingang Pinoy pa naman) before i realized that it was the aroma of the glorious sauce de poisson wafting inside this grubby New York bus. yes, Virginia, there exists the glorious patis in the Big Apple.
and there he was crumpled in a seat by the window, clinging to his flimsy spring jacket as if his life depended on it. the culprit, the source of the patis smell, a middle aged kababayan gingerly sitting on a double seater cradle and, for all the love in the world, trying to avoid my stare. ewan ko lang with my West Coast peoples, but with us on the East, parang de rigeur talaga sa amin dito to consciously avoid each other sa streets like the proverbial plague.
pero, ang drama ng inyong mama (at least sa araw lang na ito, di ba nagka-attitude makeover nga akich), may I tabi talaga ako kay Manong. kesehodang wa niya ako pagkapansin in the first place, strike kaagad ako ng conversation sa kanya.
me: kumusta na?
manong patis: ok lang, lamig na nga lang.
me: saan ka nakabili ng patis? (shameless talaga ang lola mo, ne. wa na pagka-preamble, go to the point kaagad.)
first a brief explanation. totoo, maikli lang talaga. sa kalaki at ka-cosmopolitan ng New York City, dalawa lang ang Pinoy resto sa Manhattan mismo at walang Pinoy deli ha. sa ibang boroughs nga lang meron, say in Queens at Bronx, pero sa center ng universe under-represented to the bone ang Pinoy cuisine. as if mayroon tayo to speak of. anyway. on to the conversation.
manong patis: ay binigay lang ito ng kapatid ko (sabay nguso siya toward a plastic grocery bag in his lap).
as i was trying hard to engage in a frivolous conversation this painfully shy manong in the bus, sa kabilang aisle naman ng bus mayroong dalawang matrona, puti, most likely Jewish ladies (iyon lang ang aking tantiya) na straight-facedly prophesying as to how we are going to end up this year with yet another brutally cold season.
lady 1: (as she furiously fiddled with her immaculately constructed Coco Channel-inspired tweed suit) i guess this is going to be another 1993.
lady 2: (as she fumbled inside her purse for what appeared to be her inhaler) that's why i can't wait to move to Florida. i can't be bothered anymore with these New York winters.
lady 1: why, how long have you lived here?
lady 2: (stared back at lady 1 like she just called her declasse') me? all my life, honey. all of my life. (her voice dripped with earnest hometown pride so thickly, you could slather an entire bagel with it.)
ay nako dedma itong mga hard core Manhattanites na ito. balik sa mga Pinoy.
manong patis: bago ka lang rito?
me: matagal-tagal na rin. pero parang di ko talaga kaya rito?
manong patis: anong ibig mo sabihin?
me: i mean, ang lamig, ang mga tao, ang pagkain, ang takbo ng buhay. hindi ko talaga kaya. i think i was never cut out for New York.
at this point, bigla bang mag-interject si lady number 2 from accross the aisle sa aming conversation.
lady 2: oh honey, (she looked me in the eye like she's my gammy) no one is ever cut out for New York. (this coming from what could be one of the very few remaining authentic born-and-bred Manhattanites).
as the bus meandered towards the East Village, i slinked back to my old never gregarious self and decided to stop talking to manong. in the meantime, the smell of the patis grew more piercing everytime the bus disgorged its passengers, most of them, I am sure, a bit hungrier than before getting into the melting pot called the New York bus.