Taking MRT across the globe

An angel friend of mine inspired me to write about MRT. Whereas I love MRT and I always look forward to seeing one in every country that I go to, my friend does not like it. She says she always hates it when she has to take one to go somewhere. The other day, on her way to our date, she commented of ‘smelly people and crowded MRT’ and she even said that I should be thankful that she has decided to endure the MRT ride just to meet me.

Her comments have prompted me to share all my wonderful experiences with being on MRT. Well, perhaps by reading this, I would be able to convince her to become more kind to my favorite mode of transportation.

Let me start by saying that MRT or the mass rapid transportation came to my country only in the 80s. It was called Light Railway Transit (LRT) and was imported directly from Belgium. The first one to be built in Manila was a line that connects three major crowded cities: Pasay, in the south, Manila in the central part and Caloocan in the north. I remember the first batch of trains did not have airconditioning so during summer months it can really be such a nightmare to be riding it.

But since my university campus was not along any line of this great public transport system (we lived in Manila), I was also spared a lot of the not so nice smell and the pushing and shoving in the morning and in the afternoon. Though in times of rainy season when everywhere you turn you see waters on the street and it reaches up to your waist, I envy my classmates and friends who are able to take comfort in riding in a high mode of transportation.

Lest you think that we have not caught up with the rest of the world, now all the trains that ply this same route have airconditioning and the second route that was built that connects the other south-north line (traversing the major highway of the now famous Epifanio De Los Santos Avenue or EDSA for short) is much better and more comfortable. In fact when this became operational I was one of the first who bought a ticket and brought my then 3 year old nephew for a joy ride.

My first recollection of a funny incident involving MRT was here in Singapore back in June 2000, during my second visit to this city state. I was supposed to meet a very good friend at the Tanjong Pagar station. I was then staying near Raffles Hotel. So he gave instructions on how I could hop on a train from City Hall and then go down at Tanjong Pagar. So of course, since I have been here once before and I used then the MRT a lot (as I used to stay with my two college friends who live in Tampines), I thought that it is going to be an easy ride. What I did not reckon and I never had an experience before was that Tanjong Pagar is one of the few stations of MRT that has so many exit routes. I only realized it when I was standing outside one of them (the one in front of International Plaza) and apparently my friend was on the other side waiting for me. Horror of horrors! I did not have any handphone at that time so I was forced to go down and find a phone booth. I was so angry with him and was so pissed off that I was almost yelling at him when he answered his phone because I was so hungry as well. And the nerve of him was that since he did not see me, he had already eaten with another friend of his. He thought that I had decided not to go. Men! I only calmed down when he said that since I had not eaten yet, he instructed me to cross and go to Starbucks and he would be with me. Hmm, I can see you now angel telling me, ‘see see MRT is not fun.’ In this instance, I would certainly agree with you one hundred percent.

The second unforgettable train ride I took was in Oslo. Yes, angel I braved riding the MRT in a city which does not speak English and all signs are in their own language. I remember I was feeling a bit at a loss of where to go for another day in Oslo, so I decided to call up this Norwegian lady whose name and contact details I got from another friend. She was very nice because after just introducing myself over the phone, she promptly invited me to visit her at her home and to stay the night so I would not feel so alone in this very cold city. But to be able to get to her place, I would need to take the train. Grabbing a map of the MRT line, she gave me the instructions which station to get off and how to go up and proceed to her house. I did not realize that unlike Manila where stations are not that far from each other and the MRT is only short nor Singapore where riding the MRT means being able to visit the whole of Singapore, the trains in Oslo seems to take you from one end of the city to the rest of the country. So there I was huddled in my jacket as it was so cold in Oslo, inside a train where I am the only non-white and Asian person, trying my best not to miss the station I am supposed to go down. That was the longest train ride I think I must have taken as I remember going down with some light (meaning the sun was still up there) and then when I went out, it was already dark. And the funny thing is, in Oslo, the train allows you to pay in cash and you just drop it in a box and if you do not want to or you do not have enough money to pay, you can always get away with it. Yes, angel, the Nordic people are really one of the best as far as welfare system is concerned. My friend told me that their train works on ‘honest system.’ You pay according to your ability to pay. I thought back then, wow, that is socialism at its best mode.

The third unforgettable train ride I took was in KL. I had to interview a SEAGEP client who lives outside of KL and can only be reached easily by riding the train. I was told that no taxi would dare take me that far. So I told myself that would not be that hard as KL is in Asia and I could always pass for a Malaysian. But what I did not realize was that going to his place meant transferring from one MRT line to another and then taking a smaller train (the traditional and what I call the real one). This of course meant that at some point I almost got lost in the maze of trying to decipher which side of the line I should wait on and which train goes where. So I arrived at his doorstep panting, thirsty, so tired and was almost not in the mood to talk to him much less interview him formally. That was when I realized that being in Asia and passing for a local does not mean a less bumpy ride on the MRT.

The fourth unforgettable MRT ride I took was in Belgium. I stayed the weekend over at my former boss’ brother’s house in the suburbs and had to be in Brussels on a Monday morning for some official meetings. And of course, though he owns a car, most of the time he says he does not drive to the city as Brussels has some very strict traffic regulations. So on that Monday morning, we walked from his house down to the train station. He was very nice as he was trying to explain some of the things we were passing by. Then just as we are about to cross the street to go to the station, he realized that we only had a few minutes before the train arrives. So he told me to hurry and we had to literally run inside the maze of entrance and exit routes and went up two flights of stairs. Yes angel, we got in just as the train was opening its doors. But this meant that I did not have the opportunity to even take note of anything lest I had to take the same train ride going back to his house. Anyway, good thing was that I had to move to another friend’s house. She lives within Brussels and she owns a car, so I did not have to memorize that route again. So train ride in Belgium was a bit hazy for me.

The fifth unforgettable MRT ride I took was in Bangkok. After the KL experience, I dare not ever again take for granted the fact that I am in Asia and I can pass for a Thai. Here in this city of horrible traffic (like Manila) and where only a few English speaking people, I promised myself to learn the MRT line better and faster. What is unforgettable here was that every time I was in Bangkok, I always stayed at a five star hotel (courtesy of the Canadians and one time by the World Bank and ADB). And both these hotels were outside an MRT line. So there I was staying at this luxurious hotel, having a very nice room that overlooks the river and I always took the MRT ride. Well, by the third time, I realized that the best way to go around Bangkok and not get lost or mugged or late for your appointment is to take the MRT. I told myself if I was able to survive all those train rides I took in Europe, then this was peanuts. That is why I know Bangkok so much, well at least from the MRT point of view.

The sixth unforgettable MRT ride I took was in Madrid. Ah angel, by this time, I feel such an expert in riding and deciphering the MRT. What I did the first day I arrived in Madrid was not go around to shop nor see any fabulous tourist site. Rather I spent my first afternoon in Madrid by taking the train and testing my expertise in deciphering how to go from my hotel which is located within the city proper to the convention center which is located outside of the city. Whereas in Valencia where I was with my boss, so that meant that most of the time, I was riding with her and I do not have to be responsible for myself. She was the one who took me around and MRT is not her normal mode of transportation. In Madrid, she and I were separated as she was staying at a five star hotel and I was staying in a hostel with the rest of the HelpAge International delegates. As an aside, the hostel was not that bad, at least it was comfy and it was conveniently located at Plaza Mayor, which is one of Madrid’s central areas.

So after two days of taking the MRT and experimenting with the various lines (in the afternoon) after attending the conference, I was like a local Spanish woman who knows her way around the MRT. So much so that on the third day, when this whole bunch of HelpAge staff decided to take the train with me, they were amazed to find me the one leading them where to enter and where to get out. They thought I had been to Madrid before. I think what also helped is the fact that I speak a bit of Spanish so I can read and understand the signs, as most of them anyway remind me of names back home.

Now you know why I love taking the MRT and why I think it is one of the best inventions, next to computers and handphones. Nothing beats riding it, be it here in Singapore or in Oslo or Madrid. The only regret I had was I did not have the opportunity to take a train in your own home country (India) and in that city quite down under (Auckland), primarily because both cities, despite being former British colonies, do not have MRT inside the city. And I thought we (in the Philippines) were the last ones to acquire and get to know this wonderful mode of public transportation.