Life at the charging station

It starts with the plug.

You pull into a charging station somewhere in Makati or maybe Nuvali, park your shiny new EV, pop the charging port open like you know what you’re doing, and begin what is essentially a socially acceptable form of loitering.

Thirty to 40 minutes. Maybe an hour. Just enough time to rethink all your life epic fails and victories, or at least scroll TikTok until your phone dies before your car finishes charging.

This is the new normal for electric vehicle drivers in the Philippines. It’s quiet. It’s clean. But let’s be honest, it’s also kind of awkward.

Because after you’ve taken that first “Charging...” selfie, what now?

Some people head straight for coffee. If you’re at a mall-based charging station, you’re golden. You’ve got shops, aircon, and overpriced pastries to keep you company. If you’re at one of those lonely chargers at a gas station on highways, good luck. You’re either bonding with the gasoline boys or pretending to read the ingredients on a pack of Boy Bawang.

One tito I met early morning at a charging stop at the UP Ayala Techno Hub in Quezon City brought a folding chair and a thermos. He sat under the tree right across the charging station, sipping coffee, watching cars as if it were Sunday morning in the province. “Masarap i-drive ‘to,” he said, motioning to his fully electric Hyundai IONIQ 5 N. “Tahimik. Tipid. Parang retirement ko na rin ‘to.”

I didn’t ask if he was retired. But he looked so content, I didn’t want to ruin the vibe.

You learn things.

Charging stations are like the new barber shops. You meet all sorts.

There was one guy charging his Changan Nevo Lumin who told me he used to be a gas guzzler. “Pero nagbago na ako, par,” he said. “Nagka-anak ako. Daming gastos. Tsaka ang mahal ng gas ngayon.”

And sometimes, you just get silence. Strangers nodding politely at each other. Everyone is pretending they’re busy while secretly peeking to see whose EV finishes charging first.

Some bring snacks. Some do emails. Some sleep.

I once watched a guy clean his entire dashboard using wet wipes and tissue while waiting. Legit. Full interior detail. I wanted to join him, but I only had a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a receipt from Uncle John’s.

For others, charging time is me-time. No engine hum. No honking. Just a moment of peace in the middle of bardagulan sa traffic. It’s like your car is on its spa day, and you’re the plus one.

Let’s be real, part of it is flex. Having an EV is still not common, so pulling into a charging station feels a little like VIP parking. But after the third time someone asks you how much you “really” save on electricity, you stop answering. You just nod, smile, and say, “Mas okay sa bulsa.”

(Shoutout to Manong Joe of Meralco, who always keeps us informed and educated on saving energy, we see you and we love you.)

Charging stations might not be as fast as gas pumps, but they invite slowness in a good way. You slow down. You observe. You connect. Or at the very least, you get 45 minutes to breathe.

You recharge as well, not just the cars.

And when your screen finally says “Charging Complete,” you unplug and slide into the driver’s seat, slightly more hopeful.

Because sometimes, the best thing about driving electric… is being reminded it’s okay to pause.