Last year, during the holidays, Kobe and I were on a pedicab in Dumaguete () on the way home when suddenly, the woman right beside me asked: “Imo nang bana day?” (Is he your husband, young lady?). I replied: “Dili Nang, akong uyab.” (No Ma’am, he’s my boyfriend). I smiled and when I glanced towards Kobe’s direction he was giving me a puzzled look on his face. The woman proceeded with her interrogations: “So taga-asa mana imong bana, Day? Ada magminyo ra bitaw mo ana niya.” (So where is your husband from? Oh you two will get married anyway). Ofcourse, my reply was: “He’s from Belgium.”
Interestingly for some, the following question is one that I have gotten quite used to hearing: “Asa man mo nagmeet ana niya, Day? Sa chat?” (So, where did you meet him? Through chat?). I smiled and said, “No, we didn’t meet through chat. We met in Manila, where we were both working.” When the woman got off the pedicab, Kobe asked me if I knew the woman. I told him “No…but that’s just how Filipinos are.” We are too friendly, to a point that if you ask a complete stranger a couple of questions you can end up with their life story. Despite all else, that is one of the things I love about my countrymen. And I will always love in my country.
I read this once: “Every person you meet knows something that you don’t; Learn from them.”
What is more common is: “Everybody has a story to tell.”
Although this isn’t one that will boggle your minds or make you reflect; this can be one that will make you smile. What prompted me to write this? I always like hearing stories about how people meet or any story that a person has for that matter. And even if that woman won’t ever get to read this, or that pedicab driver that asked me pretty much the same set of questions in one of our rides, OR the person who stood in front of us in the bus station at Cebu City…even if they won’t ever get to read this, I am writing this because every body has their story to tell. And finally, this is ours…
Two years ago, I got a call from a dear friend a couple of days before the Christmas holidays. He was in Belgium then and told me that he would be spending the holidays with his colleague in our hometown in Dumaguete. Since I used to be a mountaineer in college he asked me if I would guide him and his friend through the mountains. Not having climbed my favorite mountain in a long time, I enthusiastically agreed and we set a climb date: The day after Christmas (when all throught the house, not a creature would be stirring, not even a mouse... ;)
Finally the day came. 5am at the rendezvous point. It was the same one that we had in college. Haaay…memories…. I was late (and don’t say as usual! :) coz I left my hydration pack at home and so I had to go back. The boys apparently came much later as they had to buy water as well. I waited "patiently" alongside my trusty vintage car.
When they arrived, my initial thought was: “Hmmm...he’s cute, in a ruggedly-handsome sort of way." But then again, I was a professional. I was a mountaineer and this was my first time as a guide. I was gonna rock. So with silly thoughts aside, off we went in my car towards Mt. Talinis, otherwise known as “Cuernos de Negros”, and prepared ourselves mentally for the 10 hour trek ahead of us.
I was quite nervous at first and with my mountaineer friends having told me the night before that the trails were too damaged due to heavy rains, my fears were amplified. I haven’t climbed in years! But I tried my best to stay focused and show confidence so my trusty climbers will have faith in me. Two big Belgian men and one small Filipina guide. What a sight that was indeed!
The trek was a long but leisurely one. It wasn’t as bad as I thought. Even if the trails were quite damaged, it was as if I knew it better than the back of my hand. Back in college, we would climb that mountain any time of the day. The only difference this time was that: (1) It was my first time to climb over the WHOLE mountain in just one day; and (2) It was my first time to be a guide and it was for two foreign men that I felt solely responsible for. Whew! Watta huge load that was!
While they were busy chatting and enjoying the view, I was busy focusing on the trail, making sure (not obviously ofcourse) that they were both still okay and in sight, taking note of where we were passing…plus the fact that I was trying not to think that it was raining (hard) and that it was so cold! But I didn’t want to put my jacket on coz I didn’t like walking around in a wet one. But yes, it was still fun for me. I was quite impressed by his sense of humor and the snippets of conversation that I heard when I veered away from deep concentration. I was really serious about avoiding mishaps, you know.
When we reached the lake at the top of the mountain all we had time for was to take 6 photos and we had to head back down the other side of the mountain as the fog was quite heavy and the rain was still pouring. To cut an already long story short, 3 hours before the end of the trek, when my knees were both ready to buckle at any wrong footing but my fears could momentarily be made to take a nap, I finally was able to relax and do one of the things that we are so fond of doing when walking in the mountains: Sing at the top of our lungs. :) As an added bonus, the more off key, the better! And on that day, I decided to honor Aerosmith with my singing.
In the end, my singing was cut short by Kobe exclaiming that the rain was getting worse as I kept on singing…so I stopped while I still had some dignity left. I had forgotten that that was our first meeting. I didn’t want to give him the impression that the women in our country were as crazy as I was.
When we got to the end of our 10 hour trek, I was never as happy and as relieved as I was that day to sit on a wooden chair and drink a coke. I longed for a hot bath and a nice, warm, soft bed under my backside. But on the way home, I couldn’t believe my ears. Just when I was ready to doze off (as my friend’s mom was driving us back and my friend at the front was already fast asleep), K just kept on talking and talking about anything under the sun. I was just trying hard to keep my eyes open out of sheer politeness but any second, I knew politeness would not have stopped them from popping out of their sockets. To add insult to injury, that night, when I was just sitting on our couch at home, vegetable-like, barely able to move my withering legs, they sent me an sms asking if I wanted to have drinks at this famous bar by the beach.
All I could think of then was, “What the hell were these guys made of?? Here I am, on the verge of dying and they just had a massage and are now out partying??” My first impression of Belgians would have to be that they are robotic. hehe
I never went out that night but as they say: The rest is history…or another story.
photo from:
