My Davao vacation was over. And so was the euphoria. But the thoughts lingered, stuck like sweat on skin, like ink on paper. It was there, whether I liked it or not.
And so I told my colleague Pai, over bites of agedashi tofu and katsudon, our little Davao trip--from the first day to the last, with some side comments thrown in. There were instances when I had to put down my chopsticks and do animated discussions on what transpired. I remembered each character vividly: Marj and Ira's endless string of phonecalls, Jojie and her infectious laughter, Rhon and his cigarette, Raymond and his tamarind crabs.
Pai laughed most of the time, sniggering, making faces as I went into my over-all evaluation of the trip. My voice rose an octave higher, trying to sound happy, trying to exude contentment, but as much as I try to wave it away, it kept reappearing in my story.
"Admit it Lei," she cut my otherwise boisterous narration, "it was a fucked-up vacation."
--
The day was humid and thousand beads of sweat drizzled my back. The sun was not high but our spirits were. In the afternoon heat, my friends and I were playing on the streets, where children were at that certain time of the day. Amidst the smell of sweat and earth and grease and bursting aratiles fruits, another smell wafted through the air. One of our neighbors called me, her nose wrinkled.
"Saan nanggaling mama mo?" Where did your mom come from? She asked. My mother was seldom at home and everyone in the neighborhood knew she spent most of her time working out of town. From Davao, I replied. "Kaya pala amoy durian."
My mother loved Davao and taking home durian was more than a habit, it was a must. After every trip, the house would be full of fresh durians, pomelo crates, mangosteens, lakatan bananas, and my brother and I devoured them when we're not out in the streets. My brother, however, never grew fond of durian. The task of eating it all was left to me and my parents. It went on for more than 10 years, Mama and her durian shopping. After every trip, it was always Papa and I at the dining table, patiently cracking the smelly spiky fruit, eating it seed after seed.
I was 12 when Papa relocated to Davao for his job. The family had to move to our hometown of Batangas so we could spend more time with the rest of the family before we make the 'big move' to my parents' newfound land. Instead of fruits and smells, Papa took home stories of Mindanao. In the few instances he returned home, he would fill the house with stories of his everyday life down south. Like Mama, he too fell in love with Davao's allure. At some point, he even said he wanted to retire there, put up a house by the sea, listen to his jazz collections. Up to now, more than a decade ago, he still talked about Davao with longing and nostalgia.
The 'big move' never came. By 2001, Mindanao was already in a state of unrest because of attacks and bombings done by communist groups. The fear was heightened when Davao airport was bombed in 2003. Papa was forced to leave his job and we stayed in Batangas. We never talked of Davao again.
--
"Enjoy ka dun, it's your birthday." I just smiled and nodded as I left the house that early Wednesday morning. I was to spend the night at my cousin's house in Espana to save travel time and to meet the 7a.m. flight the following morning. Papa was the last to know of my plans. Mama was the second to the last. The vacation was not a spur of the moment thing. It was actually planned months in advance. But I realized that apart from the plane ticket and the date, nothing else was thought out. Great, I thought, let's see how cooperative serendipity is. It has, in the past, worked well for me.
When we arrived in Davao at 9a.m, we were starving. The chickenjoy meal I ate at the airport seemed to have dissolved the moment the plane left the tarmac in Manila. Carrying our baggages, the most logical option was to check-in first and then eat out. The trip to Casa Leticia was quite long. It seemed that we have literally went around downtown Davao because manong driver had our address wrong. I was not in the mood to be bitchy, though I think Ira was close to cracking. Instead of wondering where the hell he was taking us, I asked manong the political situation in Davao.
"That's so Lei," my closest girl friend Nica told me while we smoked in Glorietta weeks after the trip. I shrugged. What choice do I have? I desperately needed to talk to someone and manong proved to be willing. There was nothing more exciting than knowing Noggie has no winning chance against the Dutertes and that the people welcomed the presence of the City Death Squad. Miss Gigi got it right when she said "a journalist never goes off duty."
We found our inn by 11p.m. and hurriedly went out for lunch. The receptionist recommended Pards, a seafood paluto near Gaisano Mall. The sinigang na hipon was disappointing but the squid and the grilled blue marlin did make up for that. By 1p.m., we were full and sleepy and ready for an afternoon nap. Instead of returning to the inn, we went to Aldevinco to do our shopping. We were buying toiletries and cookies and water when Ira said she needed to find the hi-res version of Rhon's photo that will be used for the cover of Mabuhay.
And so, the next hour was spent on the two browsing the net and me waiting for them to finish. I was trying my best to be patient. It was a vacation, we're supposed to relax, not follow-up last minute deadlines! It was a good thing my editors knew better than bombard me with calls. "Bakasyon yun, Lei," Miss Gemma, my immediate supervisor, told me, "Kapag bakasyon, dapat walang trabaho. Just enjoy." But how in the world can I enjoy a vacation with my companions thinking about work?
Whether they spend their leaves talking on the phone about work or strolling souvenir stores was not for me to question. We were thrown into something we never planned in the first place. I sighed and said nothing. Let's just get this over with.
The heat was unbearable in Davao City when we returned to the inn. Jojie was right when she told me two years back, when I was still with Mabuhay, that the weather was always sunny in Davao. "Lei, dapat talaga pumunta ka dito. Hindi bumabagyo dito at saka hindi bumabaha!" she screamed on the phone and I answered her with a laugh. Even then, Jojie has always been an amusing conversationalist.
My skin prickled from the heat and we were tired from our city wanderings. The owner approached us and we exchanged some pleasantries. We learned later that night who he was, though when he approached us at the lobby he actually forgot to introduce himself, an act I found quite mayabang. After the conversation, we went back to our rooms, evidently happy from that brief encounter, looking forward to dinner with Jojie and Rhon and him. No one said a word as we settled down on our beds.
"Cute nung owner no?" Ira blurted out and we laughed. No he's not, he's gwapo.
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