I’m the kind of guy you’d see at the bus terminal at dawn, holding a cup of instant coffee, standing uncomfortably beside chicken crates and dry goods, waiting for the first bus to arrive. I don’t really mind traveling alone, in fact, I find it sometimes to be particularly soothing.
I’ve had this love affair with Samar since I first laid eyes on its pristine coves coyly hidden by forests, and well, I’m not too keen with sharing this parcel of paradise with just about anyone. And because of Samar’s distance (and perhaps hushed rumors of leftist armies) few people brave the four hour trip to visit the towns of Guiuan and Borongan. That leaves die hard travel fanatics like myself to revel in the unspoiled beauty of the place.
This wayfarer however, has not set foot in one of those rickety buses for some time. Partly because of schedule, and partly because, I think I’ve lost that rash impulsiveness that came with youth. I’m exaggerating- I’m still in my twenties, but have considerably mellowed down so I no longer hop on a bus unplanned, unscheduled, and hoping to arrive back home in one piece.
Last summer, before Mama and Ted left for the States, I urged them to take a trip with me. I insisted on tiptoeing while everyone was still asleep so by the time everyone was up, we were already on a bus, safe from last minute “Sama ako!!” pleas from relatives. If you want to enjoy a very relaxing weekend, I told them, then we go secretly.
It was great to feel the wind whipping my face again. The bus was crowded and noisy, and Mama, used to the comforts of a private car, grumbled all the way. When we finally arrived in Marabut, we hopped on to one of the floating cottages and had food delivered by banca. The entire weekend slipped by placidly, and we were bronzed and content by the time we headed back to Tacloban the following Monday.
Maybe I ought to take one of those impulsive trips one of these days. I bet Samar would be just as I remembered it, and just as I remembered Mama- vibrant, lively, and ever so beautiful.
I’ve had this love affair with Samar since I first laid eyes on its pristine coves coyly hidden by forests, and well, I’m not too keen with sharing this parcel of paradise with just about anyone. And because of Samar’s distance (and perhaps hushed rumors of leftist armies) few people brave the four hour trip to visit the towns of Guiuan and Borongan. That leaves die hard travel fanatics like myself to revel in the unspoiled beauty of the place.
This wayfarer however, has not set foot in one of those rickety buses for some time. Partly because of schedule, and partly because, I think I’ve lost that rash impulsiveness that came with youth. I’m exaggerating- I’m still in my twenties, but have considerably mellowed down so I no longer hop on a bus unplanned, unscheduled, and hoping to arrive back home in one piece.
Last summer, before Mama and Ted left for the States, I urged them to take a trip with me. I insisted on tiptoeing while everyone was still asleep so by the time everyone was up, we were already on a bus, safe from last minute “Sama ako!!” pleas from relatives. If you want to enjoy a very relaxing weekend, I told them, then we go secretly.
It was great to feel the wind whipping my face again. The bus was crowded and noisy, and Mama, used to the comforts of a private car, grumbled all the way. When we finally arrived in Marabut, we hopped on to one of the floating cottages and had food delivered by banca. The entire weekend slipped by placidly, and we were bronzed and content by the time we headed back to Tacloban the following Monday.
Maybe I ought to take one of those impulsive trips one of these days. I bet Samar would be just as I remembered it, and just as I remembered Mama- vibrant, lively, and ever so beautiful.
1 comment:
Off-topic, of course: YES! I'm honored to accept your request re. foreword about coming out. Please email me more details about it: joelmcvie@yahoo.com
I'm tickled pink that you considered me. =)
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