Relevant Days of Pleasure:
An Account of My Sem Break
2nd BOUT
a reflection
A view from the window of Casiguran country side.
An Account of My Sem Break
2nd BOUT
a reflection
A view from the window of Casiguran country side.ARRIVAL: Journey's End
I arrived at Casiguran just in time for breakfast. My father was waiting on the shed. I saw him about a hundred meter as my bus throttles as it halts, putting its breaks even. The unpressurized air atmospherically occupied the hinges of the bus as it opened, hence a freedom that i have achieved against the puritan seat of enslavement and back pain. My back bone cracked and asked the driver if i can open the trunk to dislodge my heavy load. I have given him the claim stub by the time my father appeared in my presence, like a common silhouette. The driver gave a nod on me and i thanked him and smiled, realizing that i was home.
The shed.
A feeling so real that some forgotten teardrops formed in my eyes. I looked at my father and took his hand and ask for a blessing. He offered me without a word. I exclaimed that i had a fretful journey, i almost have not gotten any sleep yet that time and my mind is wondering at its wits. Some locals, tricycle drivers, greeted me with a vain smile almost hidden in their deep eyes reminded me of their frailties in life. Old and new, Casiguran is place that i could not ever, ever replace or forgotten. It is almost a dream to be back there at this instant.
As i journeyed back home, as Manila Buzzes from my window and the television of the bus echoed movie conversations that i do not wished to commune with, everything seemed to go deeper. Like a wine, as it ages, the taste deepens as if it was historically destined to crept through time. As we went further and further from SLEX some barren thoughts and feelings became clear, my minds achieved a state of quietness, long and painful. I was trouble by my detachment from the fast lanes of Manila, fearing the isolation of a country life. This thought haunted me on my journey back home. I fingered my cellphone in rage hoping to catch a new thing from the city but my screen is empty. No messages for the past few hours. I felt alienated. My seatmate was asleep, unconscious of my toiling words. I turned my iPod off.
I felt, for the first time, at peace. Shades of the night and full moon, as we neared Sto. Tomas, Batangas, surrounded the moving bus. Creatures of the night were muted by sound-proof glass, the movement of the bus became subliminal, and the speaking woman in front of me hushed like a bamboo tree. Everything was quiet and whimsical. It was the point where anything is possible. I had to suffer this. As the night grew deeper and deeper as would city light grew dimmer and dimmer, my vainest efforts to connect with the City was becoming too theatrical, surreal, and disturbing.
So i slept.
Hours later, i arrived home.
I heaved as i carried my laptop on my back pack, the strollers are rolling on dense concrete, and some creatures that i have not seen before came to me. One is small, miniaturized brown dog named PRINCESS. The other one was a black cross-bread dog full of dermatitis and smelled bad. It was given to my father out of will by Tito Rene. He named it "Olbong". What funny, peculiar name indeed for a dog! But it suited its look: black, thatched and smelly. But suddenly a littlest, cutest creature jumped unto my knees. It yawned like a big mouthed political activist, a character that is uncommon for a dog as large as a country rat. I asked my father its name and he said "Panyi". Cute name, reminded me of a nickname of a child!
I know that moment that i was home. The smell of air mixed with the scent of dried banana leaves, odoriferous scents of daing from Nanay Mali's kitchen, small touch of sea scent resurrected memories of my childhood. The neighborhood was awake and my lola Mila(grandma Mila) greeted me with so much warmth that i almost cry in joy and elation. She hugged and kissed me on my cheeks and exclaimed: "You are here!" It was a sentimental welcome after a uneventful journey back home. My entirety is filled with hope and meaning subduing the long lost happiness that i should have felt for a long time.
I walked the backyard, and saw Nanay Mali cooking breakfast. Her smile alluded me with precarious sentimentality and figurative wonder. I applaud her presence in the kitchen by announcing her name: "Nanay!". She replied, "Ian."
Our backyard back home.
My mother, in her night dress, fled on the open yard and exclaimed all happiness and hugged me, i kissed her cheeks. I told her that, as always, my journey was tiresome and uneventful. I sat at the lounge of the balcony and settled there consuming the welcoming joy i felt. i was there, smiling and seeking the moments the i have felt and touched.
My father, in his responsible scheme, cooked a wonderful breakfast of scrambled eggs. It then and there, the beginning of my school break as i talked about school, my blog and the world at large, the world that i left in the City.
Scrambled eggs, fried dried fish, and Suman(rice food).
I arrived at Casiguran just in time for breakfast. My father was waiting on the shed. I saw him about a hundred meter as my bus throttles as it halts, putting its breaks even. The unpressurized air atmospherically occupied the hinges of the bus as it opened, hence a freedom that i have achieved against the puritan seat of enslavement and back pain. My back bone cracked and asked the driver if i can open the trunk to dislodge my heavy load. I have given him the claim stub by the time my father appeared in my presence, like a common silhouette. The driver gave a nod on me and i thanked him and smiled, realizing that i was home.
The shed.A feeling so real that some forgotten teardrops formed in my eyes. I looked at my father and took his hand and ask for a blessing. He offered me without a word. I exclaimed that i had a fretful journey, i almost have not gotten any sleep yet that time and my mind is wondering at its wits. Some locals, tricycle drivers, greeted me with a vain smile almost hidden in their deep eyes reminded me of their frailties in life. Old and new, Casiguran is place that i could not ever, ever replace or forgotten. It is almost a dream to be back there at this instant.
As i journeyed back home, as Manila Buzzes from my window and the television of the bus echoed movie conversations that i do not wished to commune with, everything seemed to go deeper. Like a wine, as it ages, the taste deepens as if it was historically destined to crept through time. As we went further and further from SLEX some barren thoughts and feelings became clear, my minds achieved a state of quietness, long and painful. I was trouble by my detachment from the fast lanes of Manila, fearing the isolation of a country life. This thought haunted me on my journey back home. I fingered my cellphone in rage hoping to catch a new thing from the city but my screen is empty. No messages for the past few hours. I felt alienated. My seatmate was asleep, unconscious of my toiling words. I turned my iPod off.
I felt, for the first time, at peace. Shades of the night and full moon, as we neared Sto. Tomas, Batangas, surrounded the moving bus. Creatures of the night were muted by sound-proof glass, the movement of the bus became subliminal, and the speaking woman in front of me hushed like a bamboo tree. Everything was quiet and whimsical. It was the point where anything is possible. I had to suffer this. As the night grew deeper and deeper as would city light grew dimmer and dimmer, my vainest efforts to connect with the City was becoming too theatrical, surreal, and disturbing.
So i slept.
Hours later, i arrived home.
I heaved as i carried my laptop on my back pack, the strollers are rolling on dense concrete, and some creatures that i have not seen before came to me. One is small, miniaturized brown dog named PRINCESS. The other one was a black cross-bread dog full of dermatitis and smelled bad. It was given to my father out of will by Tito Rene. He named it "Olbong". What funny, peculiar name indeed for a dog! But it suited its look: black, thatched and smelly. But suddenly a littlest, cutest creature jumped unto my knees. It yawned like a big mouthed political activist, a character that is uncommon for a dog as large as a country rat. I asked my father its name and he said "Panyi". Cute name, reminded me of a nickname of a child!
I know that moment that i was home. The smell of air mixed with the scent of dried banana leaves, odoriferous scents of daing from Nanay Mali's kitchen, small touch of sea scent resurrected memories of my childhood. The neighborhood was awake and my lola Mila(grandma Mila) greeted me with so much warmth that i almost cry in joy and elation. She hugged and kissed me on my cheeks and exclaimed: "You are here!" It was a sentimental welcome after a uneventful journey back home. My entirety is filled with hope and meaning subduing the long lost happiness that i should have felt for a long time.
I walked the backyard, and saw Nanay Mali cooking breakfast. Her smile alluded me with precarious sentimentality and figurative wonder. I applaud her presence in the kitchen by announcing her name: "Nanay!". She replied, "Ian."
Our backyard back home.
My mother, in her night dress, fled on the open yard and exclaimed all happiness and hugged me, i kissed her cheeks. I told her that, as always, my journey was tiresome and uneventful. I sat at the lounge of the balcony and settled there consuming the welcoming joy i felt. i was there, smiling and seeking the moments the i have felt and touched.
My father, in his responsible scheme, cooked a wonderful breakfast of scrambled eggs. It then and there, the beginning of my school break as i talked about school, my blog and the world at large, the world that i left in the City.
Scrambled eggs, fried dried fish, and Suman(rice food).
