Cebu? B?
Alright.. so that’s practically a cliche.. but I don’t care. I’m here and I’m using it. I’m just resting my butt after aimlessly wandering around Cebu City’s downtown.
I’ve always wanted to come to Cebu.. After high school, I considered attending a university here.. I don’t know why exactly.. I think it’s because I know it’s a promising city that still has some sorta rustic charm.. But after two jeepney rides this afternoon.. oh well.. It’s just that the streets are narrower than those in Manila and they seem to be just sa polluted, what with rows and rows of jeepneys going around.. Don’t get me wrong, I love taking jeep rides cz they’re cheap heheh.. but I hate the pollution (who doesn’t?).. plus traffic, tho it’s not as bad as Manila.. anyways, I’m babbling.. and I might as well go on..
Armed with a map (as if I can read one), I walked out of the Marco Polo compound and saw a jeep with a sign that says "Carbon Ramos Panganiban." Duh? But I boarded it anyway.
Aside from the fact that I’m here for an official assignment, I’m also on a personal mission. I grew up knowing how to speak Cebuano, which I learned in Cagayan de Oro. Here, I want to find out if I really speak Cebuano in the strictest sense of the word. I took the front seat of the jeep so I could talk to the driver. I’m naturally torpe, and on this particular trip, I was totally tongue-tied. Not that I had the hots for the driver (ewww!). But the thought of speaking the wrong dialect just killed my nerves for a while.. okay, make that for about 15 or 20 minutes as the jeep headed downtown.
Tadaaaan! I’m tamad na to write.. I’ll continue this later.. or maybe not. Or just ask me what happened next. hahahahahahhaahhahaha 
