So, after class, I and my friends really take detours from the usual Talamban–dorm–repeat routine. What followed: No plans whatsoever. Which, to tell the truth, has been our best plan all the time.
Sweaty and half-alive we got off the jeep, but as soon as we stepped through the gates of Ayala, this time into the cool, air-conditioned world of Ayala, all complaints evaporated. You know, that moment when you get inside a mall as the doors open, and then your breath is caught as if you are going to be reborn? Yeah, that.
We started at The Terraces because that's how Ayala tells you to romanticize your broke-afternoon strolls. And we did not sit down immediately; we just lingered there for a while soaking up the breeze and making fun of the massive LED screen on which a coffee ad is always in loop. Marie almost tripped on a step attempting to take a mirror selfie off a glass door. Classic.
What The Terraces look like.
Much like with Ayala Central Bloc at IT Park- which by the way, I prefer (that place is tiny and more organized)- Ayala main has been infused by that chaotic busy vibe of everyone just being here. And that's a better bookstore. We passed by Fully Booked, and as expected, we were in there for way too long. I turned the pages of poetry books I have already read while pretending to be reading them for the first time (don't act like you haven't). Gianna found this astrology journal and immediately said it "spoke" to her. Ivan? Straight to the comics section. Joshua, who swore he would "only look," left with a hardbound book about existentialism. I think we officially lost him to the void.
And then Tokyo Tokyo called. We were starving. Marie and I were arguing over how many pieces of California Maki we should order, while Joshua kept mispronouncing "gyoza," and Ivan spilled red iced tea all over the table before food arrived. But tonkatsu? Wow. The laughter for nothing made it one of those core memory meals-the kind where even the rice tastes nostalgic.
Gianna and Joshua separated to go grocery shopping (not that I'll ever go with them again after witnessing Joshua debate for 20 minutes over which of two instant ramen brands he was going to buy). The rest comprised myself, Marie and Ivan and we clamored to Uniqlo since Marie suddenly had a wild urge to "find a soft beige sweater that feels like a hug." She found none, but ended up with three pairs of socks and a plain black tee which she claims will change her life. Ivan somehow found himself in a fitting room trying on puffer jackets (as if it were December). Spoiler: It’s not December.
Then we regrouped at The Terraces once again, this time to wait for Gianna and Joshua with their way-too-many grocery bags for two people who "only needed tissue and chips." I mean, the bags look end-times ready. The sky was darkening already and that warm gold light started reflecting off the glass panels around The Terraces-you know, the kind that's everything appears to have sprung from an indie coming-of-age film.
What The Terraces look like at night.
Observing the comings and goings of random people and conversing about nothing and everything felt like time was defunct. Guitar tunes by the fountain lingered around. Children were running about, cotton candy in tow. Somehow, it all felt soothing in that low-effort, heart-full way. Nothing big happened, no drama-whatever the term may signify to each of us-just a day that quietly settled in your memory, without your consent, like dust settles on an old shelf.
And then it was time to head back slowly, one by one. There was no collective goodbye- just daggy half-waves and yawning goodnights in the GC. My feet were killing me, the drink was beginning to warm up, and I was rather happy knowing that this day-a very random day-was just what I needed.
’Till next time,
Dan