Olfactory Offense

Now, something light this time:

Two years ago, I enrolled in a couple of Spanish-language courses at the Instituto Cervantes in Manila. Being the cheapskate that I am I usually rode a jeep from the MRT Taft Station to Vito Cruz, specifically to Estrada Street where the Instituto used to be located. But there had been times I was running late, so I sometimes took the LRT just to get to class on time. I didn't exactly look forward to these times, because of the unpleasant smell that stuck on the coaches. I really thought then the coaches' age had something to do with it.

I now think differently ever since the MRT became sex-segregated. The past few weeks had me riding the MRT before or during rush hour to catch the rehearsals and shows at the CCP. The dried sweat, the unrelenting clashes between different body odors on the last two coaches--it's almost like an olfactory assault. Now I have an idea what Doña Lupe felt in The Summer Solstice as she watched the virile participants of St. John the Baptist's daytime procession pass her by.

I'll get used to it. Eventually.