3/2/2014
“Hi,” I said, quite sheepishly.
I
always felt awkward whenever I have to introduce myself to a person I just met.
An introvert, I will easily choose spending my night in a quiet library alone,
perusing through a labyrinth of print than to be here – a crowded bar of strangers
gyrating to the deejay’s manipulated beats.
You extended your right hand. I
shook it firmly in return.
“Hello,” you smiled and took a
seat on our table.
“Asa ka sa Cebu?” (“Where in Cebu
are you from?”), you leaned towards me to ask.
I moved closer – the loud music
was an unlikely companion for an audible conversation. “Sorry, I’m from
Makati.”
I
work two jobs in Makati – by day, a copywriter; by night, a college instructor.
The accumulated salary is just enough to survive in an expensive metro. Still,
I can manage to save for two luxuries, books and my travels to Cebu.
“Nag-unsa pud ka diri?” (“Why
are you in Cebu then?”)
Cebu,
for me, is a place of retreat from my life as a professional. Cebu provides
consolation. Last year, I visited Cebu thrice – once to recover from
depression; the others, to celebrate my birthday and my masters graduation.
Cebu
is where I find comfort in companionship and conversations that are both real
and unconditional. In Cebu, I am spared from the dialogues of toil and
pretension.
“Naa ra’y gi-asikaso.” (“Attending
to some important matters.”)
I
booked this particular trip to meet with my college classmates - we were
finalizing details for our start-up business. My share in the income, if ever,
will fund my digest for books, travel, and also support my younger brother’s college education.
I
had my mind fixed. It will be a business trip. No expectations of something (or
someone) that will make this trip life-changing whatsoever.
An hour has passed. I was
amused we were still talking. I observed that even in the meager light, your
eyes were beaming with interest.
We progressed with our chat. We
have now formed our own space, unmindful of the noise and the people around us.
“Asa man pud ka ni-laag
ganina?” (“What places did you visit earlier?”), you continued.
“Maski asa ra gud” (“Anywhere”),
I responded. “At the Basilica, SM, Ayala.”
I
must confess. Although I frequent the place, I have not thoroughly explored the
wonders of Cebu. My trips are tailored in a routine – spend time with friends,
dine in my favorite Sunburst restaurant, visit the Basilica Minore de Santo
Nino de Cebu. The last, in particular, is my personal devotion as I was named
after the Miraculous Image of Santo Nino. (My parents prayed fervently to His
Image for them to have a child; thus, I was born.)
My
travels may not be as adventurous. But I cannot complain. My friends are great
companions – they are more than a compromise.
“Maayo gani ni-anhi mo diri”
(“It’s good that you went here.”), you shared.
Tonight,
to my surprise, my friends traded routine for spontaneity. I was hesitant with
their suggestion. A bar or anywhere crowded and noisy is somewhere outside my
comfort zone. But then, I reminded myself of a resolution I made this year:
START MISBEHAVING For an introvert, that statement really reads, START LIVING A
LIFE.
I
have slowly fulfilled this promise. I now feel less guilty whenever I didn’t
finish a book on time – justifying that I am making my own adventures instead
of just reading them. Last month, I “unsobered” myself after three years of not
drinking beer. I also tried meeting people, in the quest to find someone who
will discontinue my seven years of lonesomeness.
Travel
offers a chance for anonymity – for one to take risks and commit mistakes
without fear of judgment or guilt. In a different place, I am a different
person. I am braver, more outspoken, less awkward.
So
tonight, I pursued a conversation with you. I showed you myself, told you all
truths in exchange of an encounter with you. I talked without inhibition and
enjoyed the freedom your companionship brought.
“Kanus-a pud ka mubalik?”
(“When are you going back to Makati?”)
“Five in the morning,” I
paused, “later.”
It’s two in the morning. Thirty
minutes from now, I have to return to my friend’s pad, get my luggage, and hail
a cab to the airport.
I did not want this to end. But
time and distance were my enemies.
I wanted to ask you something but I became hesitant – you might reject my request. But I reminded myself, to travel is to take risk. And so, I did something for the first time…
“Sorry, but can I ask for your
number?” I waited anxiously for your response.
“Give me your number instead.
I’ll text you, okay?” you suggested.
I scribbled my digits on a
piece of paper. We shook hands. It was time for me to leave. I took a last
glimpse. You smiled back.
3/3/2014
Ladies and gentlemen, we are
now beginning our final descent to Ninoy Aquino…
I
woke up to the stewardess’ announcement. It’s about 6:05 in the morning. The
Cebu Pacific plane is about to land at the Manila airport. Reality is about to
set in again.
The
window pane offered a majestic view. Outside, a sea of clouds gathered as they greeted
the morning sun, its light slowly painting each cloud’s lining.
A
small fragment of light refracted through the window. I recalled our chance
encounter in what was supposedly a predictable travel – I am hoping for a repeat.
As
I move forward, I bring with me memories of your companionship and a new sense
of courage, a self that acknowledges the rewards of living outside the comforts
of my solitude. Like that small light, you, radiant and beaming, gave me new
hope.
I
peeked through the window again. The daylight outside became brighter. This day
holds such promise.
