Which is why travel writers hate backlogs.
But for someone like me, it’s impossible not to have any.

To any human being who has fancied thinking up an alternate version themselves or as a form of scientific divination the Vonnegut Institute for Futuristic Paraphernalia has put up the Griot™ a machine in which you input your data and it spits out what it hypothesizes to be your current state of life now or during whatever time period of your choosing.

The most amazing thing that people have figured out with this device is how it’s usually the measly, tiny, paltry, insignificant, trifle things that they only barely remember they’ve done that makes the most colossal impetus that would forever changed the printout that the Griot™ would conjure for them.

Suffice it to say, would ingressing an assemblage of your humdrum details be enough for a computer to map up your existence?

I didn’t say a lot. i can’t say a lot, but if i could it would be about this trip.

Mostly it’s just moments.
Fast and fleeting, that speaks of unbelievable beauty.

Thankfully i haven’t had any that would make me want to get on a one-way pod destined for Mars.
Even at my unhappiest i was still as you would say “pretty OK”

Mars was the last thing on my mind as i was on a boat headed for the apocalyptic Bongao Island. Where if you would adhere to a morose scope of view, it’s where dreams go to die.

No. Only water hyacinths go there to die.
Wilter and fade, purged from a river’s freshwater waves towards the salty sea.

Alone and not even to be used as toilet paper for the Island’s inhabitants.

Denied of a job scraping shit. Can you imagine anything sadder?

[Griot™occupation: grocery store manager age 25 has liver cirrhosis]

I’d have you know as a fact how much i remember about this trip. From its abrupt inception at the Happy FM radio station, on the auspicious meet-up that started because we missed the last trip for a Pagadian bound van.

How we did a brief stopover at the market to buy Pastil, a delicious wrapped rice even more delicious than the Japanese Onigiri, would later save us from inadvertent starvation and then pairing it with warm mineral water.

The fear i felt about possibly getting peed on by a dog should i get stung by the many sea urchins that dot the beach, and how uncomfortable it was to wear 3 layers of clothing on such a warm day.
The exact line the water reached in my denim pants.

In between fantasies of taking over the world, learning a new language and trying to make yourself be a person that another sane person wouldn’t be embarrassed to be with.

You know that you’re just doing it as a distraction.

Yet however depressing your current days might be, you struggle to remember events of yore and see with a reverse crystal ball clarity how much fun you did have and how you are looking forward to doing it again.

And how your computer teacher is breathing down your neck, asking if you’ve finished your spreadsheet documents.

[Griot™occupation: hack writer age: 19 diagnosed with retrograde depression]

Maybe if i stayed quiet long enough it will make me hear the sounds of the Universe.

Those that are tuned out by mortal humans, a backdrop of white noise against the cacophonous yet prosaic screams of everyday life. Each vying for attention in the most pestiferous way.

I wouldn’t have known what it is they say. The grand meaning of existence?
Or dirty inside jokes that constitutes the lives of us meager humans.

That the entire summation of our lives is by a flaw in the Universe’s grand design.
Or not. Who knows, maybe there really is someone up there who’s looking down at us.

[Griot™ sponsored excerpt from the book: How To Write A Book: Big Words and Long Sentences That Do Not Say Anything At All]

I’d put on my opaque shades, who’s to ask what i’m up to.

I fell in love with our boatman, the Brgy. Captain no less who told me i wasn’t ugly. All aboard the S.S. Montana Darlings, we sped off on the perilous Rio Grande and paid the tithe for entry, a golden coin to appease the creatures down below.

Ideas fleet and images flutter.
We went around afflicted with hunger.
Time came to a halt and we all went back,
To bygone days which our presence have cracked.

We were cultural terrorists that day. Infiltrating the minds of the citizens in a closed community, saying with eager smiles that yes, hello there we do want to know you.

No we aren’t here to invade you, we don’t want to steal your land, rape your women and turn your children into slaves. Please don’t “bomb” us with human waste dynamites.

Depressing was the knowledge of how much Copra is worth nowadays, with most of the earnings being kept by distributors and little is left from the poor farmers in the provinces.

How very little money is used for them to live on.

I don’t know if it is any better though, creating a culture of commercialism in the middle of a strange paradise but Tourism still serves as a good answer for poverty, now there may not be a Bongo Island Hilton anytime soon but maybe a welcoming attitude and a throw-caution-into=the-wind attitude from adventurous travelers would be enough.

It’s a big world we live in. Time to see it firsthand.

[Griot™ It would appear that this machine has brought on more bad than good. Humans, no matter how simplistic they may appear possess an uncanny ability to be quite unpredictable.]

Expensive machines designed for mapping pathways outwards the soul doesn’t seem feasible when you could get the same philosophical analysis while riding on the bus.

PNKY Cafe is owned by Pinky Magsino and lovingly decorated by her 4 kids, you’ll know that if you read their kitschy menu. The decor and display are either treasures owned by the family or are up for sale. They serve healthy food that’s tastefully plated and has huge servings. But all servings for me are huge, that’s why i have a plate cleaner who travels with me.

We ordered a Spinach and Chicken Gallantine drenched in cream with fresh button mushrooms and cubed tofu, served with a light Romaine lettuce salad, and comes with a bowl of pumpkin soup. The soup was a clear winner for me, creamy and light but i found the Chicken to be a bit under seasoned. The vegetables were really fresh and the leaves, crispy. I’m not a vegetable fan, nor am i a very health conscious eater but i really wish i had access to these every day of the week

My Tae-bo buddy ordered Fried Tinapa, most likely sourced from La Union with an egg and tomato ensalada, i liked his order more than mine, because of the smoky flavor of the fish.

It’s taken me 250 words as an intro before we go on to why this post exists in the first place. As some of you may or may not have realized, depends on the width of your chest. October is a very special month tinged in pink color glasses. Pink, aside from being an awesome song by Aerosmith, is the color of passion and Breast Cancer. Many of you may have had 1st degree experiences with this terrible disease, and while there isn’t a known cure for Breast Cancer yet, there are things that we can all do to help win the fight against it. One of those things is raising Breast Cancer Awareness, by staying informed and recognizing that one of the ways you can be protected is through regular Mammograms, because early detection can save lives. Also by supporting the efforts of different companies who do research or donate funds for developing medicine and new technology for it.

Being mindful of your health isn’t only for you, but also for the sake of the people who you love and care about. Being prudent about your health gives you more energy and time to do the things you’ve always wanted to do like traveling, juggling, swimming or Texas Hold’em Poker. In our case, we decided to buy/ borrow/ steal the Haunted Laperal House across PNKY cafe from Lucio Tan. Good thing my sparring partner moonlights as a kickboxer so we only got it at a very friendly 200$ rate. Exactly the cost of one high-roller’s game

We’ve been at it since 2009? Or earlier if you ask my Mom.

From that time til now i can count exactly:

560 minutes spent on phonecards.
380 email attachments
25 embassy visits
4 application fees paid by bank notes
and countless of I-Miss-Yous from my Mom and I.

Where am i now? I’m in Manila, in what i feel to be is the last stage of application ominously dubbed as the wait-earnestly-by-the-phone stage. They say if you don’t hear from them, then you should trust that you’re application is moving along well and they won’t need any additional files for submission.

***************************

Last week my Mom told me a few quotable quotes.

“Your hair is too long Gaile, can’t you afford to get a haircut?”
she also told my sister, “Don’t tell this to Gaile, but she’s so fat.”- which of course my sister teased to me with glee, along with a saying that i’m in fact, adopted.

I’m more than amused, i sincerely know why my Mom has been telling me these nuggets of wisdom, she can’t wait for us to finally book flights to Canada and be with her again.

* The Tulip Festival in Ottawa by my Mom

And it took me a very long time to admit how excited i am, firstly i was afraid of being denied, what if they think that i am not good enough to immigrate or that time that i jaywalked, or that i am affiliated with leftist groups. Paranoia crippled me into not planning what i wanted to do once i got there, but that was before. Now every time my Mom travels, she shares how much she wishes we could be with her.

I think she understood long ago that i most likely got my Wanderlust from her, she’s still the most traveled person in the family, and i really want to catch up with her number of visa stamps by the time i get there. I even made my travel list for 2012-2013 already and it’s really exciting especially since i know i’ll be saving airfare expenses, again, thanks to her.

I’ve expressed my desire to her about how i really wanted to go to New York immediately and to Toronto so i can visit a really good friend, both are considerably near, about a 6hr drive from Montreal, i didn’t tell her though that i plan to do the bungee jump from the CNT Tower, where it’s tall enough to view America’s skyline. She was okay with it and i was relieved to hear it, although my plan to view the Aurora Borealis from the Northern Territories in Saskatchewan, Manitoba, or Yukon Territories were met with apprehensions regarding safety issues. But i’ll cross that bridge when i get there, i have until the summer 2013 to get the best views anyway.

I really think i’m going to have a 180 degree lifestyle change when i finally move thousands of miles across the planet. Not only with my Mom’s plan of only feeding me purely vegetables and minestrone but with me getting my first ever job (so i have a lot of travel allowance), going to school, living in a beautiful city where i won’t dread the commute, going through Driver’s Ed, experiencing snow for the first time and a lot of other things that i am very grateful for.

With gaining another home halfway around the world, it’s only got me wondering about possibilities. There’s nowhere too far for a traveler and i really believe in that, hope to see you somewhere on the road as well, preferably in some obscure country, in a little known cafe run by a gentle woman with her aging husband. And coffee’s going to be on me.

*photo by Dom Ho www.escapeislands.com

*ARIES*

When Yoda said “The force is strong with this one”, they probably had you in mind, but in no way is that about your Jedi skills, it’s most likely with your really uncontrollable temper. The stars are telling me to tell you that they don’t revolve around your sign and you should probably sign up for Anger Management classes because i’m pretty sure what i see in your future now counts as a felony.

Lucky Color:
Kaleidoscope Green, or Blue, or Purple.

Lucky Destination:
Akiki Trail to Mt. Pulag

Lucky Food:
Cucumber salad topped with freshly chopped mint leaves.

*TAURUS*

Let’s be frank and just say that you don’t really have that Flashpacker image so the stars tell me it’s fine that you don’t crowd every square inch of your blog with Adsense boxes and banners because your homepage is starting to look like a 16 year-old’s Myspace Page. That said, your travel outfit’s gunna have an overhaul for the better because the stars feel like being kind to your sign nowadays. Lucky you!

Lucky Color:
Pantone Color of the Year circa 1986

Lucky Destination:
Taurus is T for Tawi-tawi!

Lucky Food:
Laduree Macarons, but you can only afford to buy one.

*GEMINI*

You should probably cancel your Globe Broadband subscription because they are mirroring your bipolarity too much. One day you’re off making a funny and light travel narrative about Ilocos Norte and the next you’re ranting about how travel blogging endangers the life of three-legged turtles. But it’s okay because you can reach a wider market and we know the world is big enough for a lot of oddities and eccentrics, but the stars don’t think you should procreate because well, Global Warming, Population Growth and all that, you know?

Lucky Color:
Strangulated Cadaver shade of Purple.

Lucky Destination:
Bipolar Samar + Leyte combo for the fickle minded.

Lucky Food:
A fist-sized Jawbreaker.

*CANCER*

You seriously have no reason to be upset because the world smiles upon your reflective blogposts that generate 1000 hits per day. Then again, whenever you are in a happy mood and write about it you don’t seem to get as much views or comments and thus you have reached an impasse. The stars advise you to keep doing what you do best, which is cooking. Cook for a Libra today, they’ll adore you for it.

Lucky Color:
Windows Wallpaper Blue. Serene and relaxing for all those freezing/ hang/ lag moments.

Lucky Destination:
Uluru,Kata Tjuta National Park, Australia

Lucky Food:
I’m sure anything you’ll whip up in the kitchen is lucky enough.

*LEO*

Today is your lucky day because when you open your wallet you will find some money! Also, when you open your closet you will find that you have clothes to wear. (Unless your work environment has a sign that says clothing: optional) Later on in the day you will find that you are still lucky because you are able to breathe. Go view that lovely sunset later because i’m sure God won’t charge you for it.

Lucky Color:
David Bowie’s Disco Glam Gold Lame

Lucky Destination:
Maastritch, Netherlands. Just because.

Lucky Food:
Spicy chicken curry with a bottle of mineral water.

*VIRGO*

Your mother was right then, you probably should’ve been an accountant. With the way you over-analyze everything and how you excellently budget everything during trips- while being mindful of ForEx rates of course. That said, you should probably stop feigning that you don’t have small change when chasing Fishball carts, the stars and probably your friends are sensing your patterns already.

Lucky Color:
Octopus-ink Black for a throwback to your mosh-pit days.

Lucky Destination:
Somewhere Only We Know by Keane

Lucky Food:
Seems like a good day for Ube. Ubik kinda Ube.

*LIBRA*

Stop daydreaming or you’ll miss your stop like what happened in the bus on your last trip. No, that summer fling that happened during the rain soaked month of August is not going to last and that person conveniently blew his/her nose on that tissue paper you wrote your number on and left on the bedside table. But karmic forces are working with you today because the ink on the tissue stained their nose and they wouldn’t notice it until later this afternoon.

Lucky Color:
Whatever looks best with your skintone and doesn’t clash with your calf-skin moccasins.

Lucky Destination:
Anywhere in Maldives or French Polynesia.

Lucky Food:
Honey, if you eat anything it’ll go straight to your thighs.

*SCORPIO*

Scorpios all around the world have been consulting their Horoscopes for answers on why all their friends have been mysteriously busy, broke, out-of-the-country-but-posted-a-4square-tag-in-Greenbelt recently. And as a loyal and honest seer who is impervious to bribes i shall say my crystal bowl is looking a little dim right now and i have no idea where they are. That is if they keep up with my rate, i’ve a weekly column you guys!

Lucky Color:
Fiery Russian Red from the MAC Lipstick Counter.

Lucky Destination:
Calm and quiet Catbalogan City. Let’s see how long you’ll last in a small town.

Lucky Food:
Burger and fries from your favorite diner, but don’t be rude to the waitress.

*SAGITTARIUS*

Being born under the star sign with the most complicated name would have one assuming that you have mastered at least above average spelling skills but your recent travel blog articles beg to prove otherwise. Save yourself the ire of grammar nazi comments and invest on a better spell-checker software, unless you plan on becoming a viral hit as the only blogger Tito Sotto would be ashamed to plagiarize from. That’s smart but i’m on to you.

Lucky Color:
#EE6262

Lucky Destination:
Kabul, Afghanistan. Because i know you can do it!

Lucky Food:
Krispy Kreme Original Glaze. Have a dozen for extra luck!

*CAPRICORN*

You wouldn’t want to spend your cash buying that lottery ticket today, with the kind of luck you’re having recently i’m surprised you didn’t get robbed in between getting out of bed and going to the bathroom or finding out as you’re done soaping that your water pipe is clogged and will be unable to rinse. There’s a silver lining to this day, because later when you have your lunch you’ll have an extra chicken nugget in your Mcdonald’s meal.

Lucky Color:
W.A.S.P. Green, the kind of green that marketers use to make something look more expensive than it actually is

Lucky Destination:
BORACAY. Yes, Boracay. Just because you most likely haven’t been there yet.

Lucky Food:
Danggit and fried rice with eggplant and tomato ensalada. Yum!

*AQUARIUS*

It’s such a shame that you are either cripplingly shy or painfully apathetic to talk to strangers while traveling. Some of the best travel experiences involves human interaction, with strangers who you’ve never met before. Regardless try to enjoy the sunset at least once a day everyday of your life, it will help when the day comes you’ll finally succumb to the consequences of your cupcake addiction.

Lucky Color:
Whatever the dominant color is in Doc Wends’ latest abstract painting.

Lucky Destination:
Nova Scotia, Canada for the snow and fun Cabot Trail.

Lucky Food:
Trendy Mochiko balls from Mercato Centrale. Take me with you when you go for great luck throughout the next 10 years.

*PISCES*

Even for a well-educated Horoscope-r like me, not much is really known about your sign. You are like the weird kid in High-school that no one really thinks about, but since you aren’t standing out, you’re not a target for bullies, but then nor are you Prom Queen material or shoe-in as a Varsity Jock. Best advice the stars have for you is going into Marine Conservationism.

Lucky Color:
The soft gray of Ambergris, regurgitated or defecated by Sperm Whales.

Lucky Destination:
Talisay, Batangas you know what they say, love your own!

Lucky Food:
Tilapia Inasal. But that will be cannibalism.

This post wouldn’t be possible w/out the following sponsors:

Marie Biscuits
Dong Ho Eskapo
Gorgeous Possibly Pinay
Cedric SolidOn Copy
Nomadic Photographs
Crest Whitening Strips

There’s no sign on intelligent life form here. and that’s because i don’t consider myself as personifying the definition of that word.

{time}

2nd shift. Clocked in at 19.45.

{location log}

Ferris Wheel #3, FantasyLand, Gloria de Dapitan.
Zamboanga del Norte

{Identity Card}

Security Guard #1
W.

I reckon that i am not a very smart man, but if my Mother were to tell you, only stupid and arrogant people will assume that they know about everything. That don’t matter now much ain’t it, if my Ma knew any better she wouldn’t ‘ave let me waste my life with deadbeat jobs and no future to look forward to.

Since round the summer of ’09 i started working here, after getting laid off from being a bagger at this grocery store in town. Wasn’t really easy to get a job like this they say, but i gots an uncle who works here and he just kind of gave me the pass so i didn’t have to bother with no training or some b*llshit seminar.

It ain’t that hard anyways, a guard would only know one or two things, and he does it so well it’s as natural as breathing: Walk or stand, not sit, not run. Just keep on walking and stand tall when you have to.

Used to work round here during the day, like a normal person. It was the time where you should be on a park, when it’s sunny and bright, full of kids with delight excitedly dragging their parents to some ride or off to see the horror house.

But it was noisier too and God knows there’s much more work to be done, like some thieving rascal snatching purses of some unsuspecting lady or yer regular troublemakers even just picking up a lot of the errant trash you’d see lying about, company policy, you see. If there’s trash, well it ain’t gunna pick itself up so just throw it in the can.

So it ain’t really a bad deal, me working the Nightshift. For one thing i reckon no one ever really robbed a carnival. I’d like to see some robber try to run off with a bumpcar, that’ll be the day. And most of the robbing nowadays happens on the down low- with all that 1% crap i hear all around in the radio, some hotshot banker or venture capitalist runnning off with people’s money, foreclosing homes or putting up the shutters on someone’s honest business.

I patrol the park’s perimeter about 5 times a whole night, takes me bout about an hour and a half to walk the entire grounds and then i get kind of zoned out cause i’m just something mundane like walking putting on one foot over the other on familiar ground that i’ve memorized so much i can go over it even while blindfolded

Then i get to use what’s left of my noggin’ for some thinking, there’s really not much to do but shoot the shit in my head. Some nights i think i turned crazy, not bat-shit insane, or like that wop-eyed junkie you see on the street, or even the crackpot theorizing kinda crazy. But the kind of crazy that makes you think that there are better days up ahead and that life with all its shits and shingles is somewhere along the lines of good.

Boy, i really should air myself out during the day more before i start thinking too wildly.

I like to think that i’m a patient sort of guy. Had a girlfriend once, she was all kinds of awesome except that she wouldn’t be on time even if her life depended on it, so to kill the time waiting for her to show up i had to think up ways to entertain myself.

If we’d be meeting in a diner i’d get on this act of being all mysterious and then when some waitress comes along i’d ask her the date and when she answers i’ll gasp and say it’s 2011 already, are you sure? Then when she exasperatedly says yes again i nod my head and silently say i believe you. ‘Course i don’t do it when the waitress is pretty, she’ll most likely think i’m making a pathetic pass on her.

If we’d be meeting in the park and i’m too lazy to sketch or hunt down hobos for an interesting conversation i’ll just lie down on a bench and randomly cough. That stunt got me a few bucks one time, when some suit-wearing guy dropped a few on me while sitting down, wasn’t really sure how i’d feel after that, or if i’ll thank the guy or punch the hell outta him.

If we’d be meeting in a bookstore, where i used to work, she could be late for the whole day and i wouldn’t care. I’d just read and time’ll pass by so smoothly i don’t even notice that she’s finally there already.

Sometimes i wish that was the one part of my life i didn’t screw up so badly.

There was one time that i could remember, i was walking home from a shift that evening when i noticed something green on the pavement. I picked it up, and saw that it was a cellphone. The street was empty so i decided to hang back and check if someone would look, i read the messages to check how the owner was like.

Message 1:

[Dr. Wendz]
“Thank you for letting me Couchsurf Sir, it was fun. Regards to Bigbug”

–

Message 2:

[Marky]
“I’m as broke as an Irish potato farmer on the 5th plague of the decade, have to eat noodles for the rest of the trip but i can’t even pay for hot water. Oh by the way i’m typing this on the back of a motorcycle as rain pummels down on me.”

Suddenly a girl barely out of her teenage years came round looking for something on the ground, i hollered at her and said “Hey”, might’ve freaked her out for a minute there but then she came by near me and i gave her the phone. She was very relieved and i felt like a real kind guy after that.

Walking around with not much to do and i get real bored then i try to pretend that i’m in some shoot-’em-up kinda movie, where you just gun down the bad guys. I like to think that at night Gloria de Dapitan houses Zombies and i’m the bad-ass who goes all out with the guns and headshots all those basterds.

I really like that idea, cause zombies don’t care who you are, whether you’ve got your MBA from some fancy university or if you’re wearing some tie that costs more than a frigging car. They just sort of fumble around as this magnanimous crowd and unmindful of any social strata. And i really wouldn’t like to kill ‘em if they weren’t after my brains.

I’ve an ex colleague who worked his arse off doing double shifts for 9 years saving up for a motorcycle. He wanted to go places he said, was his dream to be in Cebu and be a photographer. Never heard from him again but Christ knows i wish the guy well.

I wonder when my time to leave will come, to walk away from this place and never come back, but that’s a crazy man’s dream, everyone knows if you keep walking on the same direction for years, eventually you’ll circle the globe and come back to the same place you’ve started from. Full circle and that’s how it goes for all things i guess.

******************************************

Written from the perspective of the guy who returned my phone to me while lost and walking around famished in Dapitan.

I named him W. or Walter, if you hate codenames. The guy with the motorcycle is my habal-habal driver who took me from walking round Rizal Shrine to Dakak. He dreamt of being a photographer in Cebu.

Sometimes walks are not measured in miles, kilometers, or mASL.
Maybe it’s a new perspective when walking in someone else’s shoes for a bit and looking at the view by the height of their heel.

*******************************************

Hello, this is Lauren of EpicPotato and this is my entry to the
24th PTB Blog Carnival, Hosted by Glenn Martinez: The Traveler on Foot
with the theme: “Most Memorable Walking Tour”

And i’m broke.

It’s the premise of a Comedy movie, going against the grain in the most awkward moment possible. Unplanned and no holds barred.
Like the day i went to Basilan.

I had a depressing Jollibee breakfast in Zamboanga, and called Dong Ho to report my status. If only i knew then that he had to convince his brother to take me out on a tour that day. I’d probably get shy. Or maybe– most likely not really.

It was 10 or 11am when i said Hasta La Vista to Zamboanga and boarded a Weesam Express boat to Isabela City. The trip is less than an hour and the ride was bumpy– i like it that way anyway so no complaints there.

Approaching the Island, you can notice Mangroves enclosing the perimeter, they say it helps with the fish cultivation and when you can make out the stilt houses near the bridge, you’ll know you’re only minutes away from getting offboard.

I wouldn’t have passed up the chance to visit Basilan, whether alone or with the help of a trusted friend. It’s just that, if i was alone, i’d probably have a different IT and would be staying at this wonderful 5 star hotel just smack in the middle of the city.

If you stay within the confines of the city and go around in a mad dash, it’s possible to see all there is to see in about half a day’s tour. The unmissable destination for me would be the canopy of rubber trees just half an hour’s drive from the port. It’s a huge picturesque plantation and with the proper “pretty please and googley eyes combo” you can even visit the factory to see how condoms are made, oh did i say that? i meant rubber products.

Now it eludes me whether this is a good thing. the CARP Law that enabled the farmers to get their land after going through 10 or-so years of feudalism. Ludwig told me that the factories were owned and managed by American companies before and now the entirety of the operation has since been handed down to the honest-to-goodness people of Isabela. He also told me about how they can afford to make their houses from stone now, and how each and everyday the workers would wake up at 5am to collect the rubber sap of the trees to be sent to the factories for processing.

My googley-eyes had to go on a hyperdrive when i almost didn’t get inside the factory due to security reasons. yes, i looked like a bandit that day, and my DSlr wasn’t allowed to take pics of the machinery due to proprietary secrets. Not that i would’ve taken a lot. It was very…. fragrant inside that factory. A feast for your olfactory sense.

Glad the owner eventually succumbed, and he even gave me a teeny bit of the Grade A rubber product to be kept as a souvenir. I still have no idea whatever happened to that bit of rubber, and it has since clogged up our washing machine when i tipped off my entire lot of trip-abused dirty clothes when i went home.

Afterwards our stint in the plantations, Ludwig invited me over to his house to meet his lovely Ilongga wife and for some Oishi snacks and coke. Or was it before, i’m not sure if this post is chronologically accurate anymore. But anyway, if you can guess who is the notoriously famous guy pictured above, you will win a prize from the EpicPotato.

Dong told me you’d want to avoid building a grandiose house in Basilan, lest you’d like to receive a love letter from insurgents. But the Jollibee branch i saw was quite pretty, so i guess, it’s a good sign that business will be booming in these parts after about a few years. I’m willing to bet on that, oh, and Palabok is conspicuously missing from their menu, as a courtesy to the Muslims who can’t eat pork.

Of course, you should still operate with caution around these parts since ummm, part of my tour had Ludwig pointing out recent bombing sites, these aren’t tourist deterrents, i think. You’ll be safe even if you are a Catholic, oh, what? That Church was bombed? Ummm okay– but at least their Seminary is safe. Oh, there’s an Italian priest who was abducted? Oh…. But keep an open mind, a lot people chose Basilan as their home, Muslims, Catholics, Christians (Born-Again/Methodists) and even Jehovah’s Witness. It ain’t such a bad place, i think.

A little bit of political gossip that Ludwig shared to me was how the current Isabela City Mayor, used to be the secretary of the ARMM Governor who she eventually married and that is why Basilan now has a pink and green city Capitol.

The park in the city center is aesthetically pleasing, albeit a bit baffling with the huge bowling ball statue encased within a mini bonsai garden. Mysterious choice of centerpieces aside, we still a few more things to do, like the cemetery. Please don’t ask why i am interested with that, or maybe we simply passed by it and i mistook it as something noteworthy, but Muslim cemeteries- or was this one Chinese? are a novelty to me, in terms of design and cultural significance.

A few days ago, Dong Ho told me an interesting story about a species of ghost endemic to our Muslim friends, they call them “Lantaw”, a perpetually stiff-necked apparition that floats and has its head positioned sideways, so if you were in front of it, you’d be safe but no such luck when it’s beside you. Dong told me these are made when there’s air that comes out of a deceased Muslim’s grave, so apart from them being buried vertically, extra care is given that no gaps in the earth will let any “Lantaws” apparate into our world.

And since the natural flow of life would call for food, or maybe creepy eerie things just wakens my appetite everytime, we went to the local market where i had a really good surprise. I saw men hauling mini-jackfruits all around and if i understood it right, they’re being sold at 10pesos per piece. No, these aren’t jackfruits, it’s Marang– one of my most favorite fruits now, it’s like eating a sweet and creamy egg, soft in consistency and pleasant in smell, not like the heady durian that i never got the palate for.

And with that amazing dessert you have to have Curacha crab as your main course, sold by Ludwig’s Lady, who is so warm and inviting, it’s such a shame that i couldn’t bring some home, because aside from the weight, it’ll probably go bad in a few days, and i have a long IT ahead of me taking me all the way up to Dipolog.

I kinda regret not staying in Basilan long enough for her to boil my crabs, prolonging their lifespan by a margin then maybe i can bring some home to Manila as a pasalubong for Dong Ho and for my family and close friends. It’s considerably cheaper there, since it goes for 600 a bunch in Zamboanga. But it’s okay, a hug from her sufficed any crustacean ravings i might’ve had.

Short story long, like how i’m having difficulty ending this blogpost and i’ve just been droning on and on, I felt like i left Basilan too soon, no regrets though. I’m not after Malamawi Beach, i was too lazy for Lamitan Falls, although going on a Kalesa ride would’ve been fun (but sadly, it’s a long-gone practice by the time i’ve arrived) just simply walking around the city was enough for me during that day.

I hugged Curacha Crab Lady, and my wonderful brother-in-another-Island, Ludwig, got my ticket for the last trip bound for Zamboanga and said good-bye to a day well spent in one of the most notoriously dangerous places in the Philippines, where i ironically got the friendliest smiles and warmest hugs.

I took a few last glances at Basilan, and then i found out that my adventure was far from over. I was actually sharing my boat ride with the new ARMM Governor, imagine that, being on a tin boat with red alert political bigshots with their cronies and bodyguards carrying more than my entire weight in gunpowder. So i bonded with my fellow passengers with this baffling commonality. Did i mention i was mistaken as a Press? Very fun boat ride indeed.

And after landing in Basilan, with a new friend in tow, who allowed me to hitchhike going to Alavar’s Restaurant in the Geewan District.

That next morning i was finally going to get my ass to the promised land.
Epic Potato meets Tawi-Tawi.

Sorry if i haven’t written to you in a while. I was busy, okay, i wasn’t i just didn’t really know what to say. Or maybe i did and i didn’t know whether saying it would be a good idea or not.

I just came back from an awesome trip recently, it’s in a place called Coron, in Northern Palawan a 55 minute propeller plane flight off Manila. I wasn’t very sure that this trip would happen and purchased my tickets just a few days before and my return flight on the same day as my departure at the airport, and even then sitting at the frighteningly unstable seat i didn’t really think i was there. After all i did have plans on doing Palawan on a different time.

A few aisles in front of me was Ron and Monette and beside me is, well, let’s call him, Mad, there was something weird that went on with this trip, particularly with Mad. I feel as if it might not be very smart to talk about it and i do admit i still feel a bit perplexed about what happened but i’ve always trusted you and i know you won’t judge me even if what i did was a hairline short of committing Kony-esque crimes.

It started with a rapid ascent, and i instinctively reached for Mad and shrieked. It was juvenile and embarrassing i know, but i think i couldn’t ever feel safe on a tiny plane after that experience. Maybe i associated the racing beat of my heart from fright to something else. Maybe not. I’m confused and i wish you could’ve talked to me right then and there. I’d be happy to know what you think. The funny thing is, maybe i was imagining it, but Mad held my hand right back.

Upon landing and after getting a van service on to Coron town, i can’t really help but just stare out the tinted windows, you know i do that a lot. This time though, unlike the others my head wasn’t wrapped in the cool serene views of Coron’s countryside, but i don’t know. I guess i knew i didn’t have to think about anything so i practiced the art of non-thinking. Quite weird i know, good thing we had a good soundtrack and our driver had a peculiar penchant for Katy Perry and Nikki Minaj, so for the duration of the drive, i zoned out and thought about “Let’s go to the beach, each, Let’s go get away, They say, what they gonna say”

Have you ever encountered the word “Covet?”, i think i have, for the first time that coveting ever really did matter. I knew that this trip wasn’t for me, but i went ahead with it anyway and i had a lot of fun. You might think it’s crazy of me to feel guilty, and you’re right. I didn’t even think of that when we all went to Maquinit Hot Spring, ditching the other stops like the Souvenir shops and what-nots. I didn’t need to buy a souvenir to make this trip memorable anyway.

I’m losing my train of thoughts now, and i’m sorry if you may not be following my story right, by this time you should be reading about our awesome dinner in the company of topless mermaids. It’s a dinner you’d probably like, if you’d been there, we had good food, nice drinks, awesome dinner topics and well it’s a great way to cap off a first night out on a trip. Ron taught me deeply entrenched Tagalog words very well, wish you could’ve been in on the lesson too.

Everyone wanted an early night. Everyone had work that week, except for me. I’m afflicted with a bad case of Insomnia, and i think you remember that i always blame my sedentary lifestyle for it. I thought that night i’d just while away time watching TV until dawn and i’d be off to our scheduled boat tour, but Mad was there to keep me from getting bored. Please say that was a nice thing to do, because i really thought it was kind of him. I don’t even remember the stuff that we talked about then, and you might think that it doesn’t really matter that much anyway.

The next day was sunny and bright. You like beautiful days like that, with blue skies and a bright sun, perfect for going on an epic island hopping tour. Anyway, i have a confession to make, please don’t laugh. I thought we’d be spending the tour with 5 waifish Chinese looking girls, you know the type, skinny with porcelain skin. I got a bit jealous and wondered whether Mad would try to befriend them and i was pleasantly surprised that instead of them, we got a lone American guy named Richard to share the tour with. Mad didn’t do much to befriend him, but Ron did, and so Richard served as our entertainment fodder for the day.

You’re probably wondering why i call him Mad, even if the answer seems glaringly obvious. It’s because we are surrounded by a lot of people who may not always understand us, who thinks they know us but really don’t. So sometimes if we are lucky, we come across someone who’s just as undefinable, and then you’re pleasantly surprised to find out that he’s just as Mad as you, mad about life, love and everything that you thought ever mattered.

Thank you for listening,
It feels so much better now that i finally told this to you.

Like a lover chasing for her last chance at love I chased my plane like a madman dashing through airport and zipping past the security officers but to no avail. I heard those words as a broke traveling student who was 781 miles away from home. It was the last thing i needed and the scariest thing that could happen. My legs felt soft and i was so angry at myself for being late. Sick or not, i had a flight.

Saying shit on my mind i asked for the next flight out on this same day.
She quoted: P4,900. Shit, shit, shit.

I thought i left my ability to think when i rushed to check-out from my hostel this morning. No i still am okay. I was able to purchase a next day flight at the airport. My pocket felt significantly lighter, my itinerary changed like lightning and i willed myself into a good mood, meanwhile the word shit is still resonating in my head.

The thing with Zamboanga happened, went to Basilan for a day trip around the rubber plantations. Learned how to make gloves, met very good people and had a great time.
But what if that never happened?
What if i was 40 minutes earlier.

…………………………………………………………..

“Last call for check-in, Calling all Cebu Pacific 5J-678 Zamboanga to Tawi-tawi passengers, last call for check-in”

I came right at the nick of time. Uneventful. A due process done with mild annoyance. Blurred bag checks. Sat down at the airport while people are busy mingling, talking or the few like who are just staring and waiting for the big white bird off to take me to my new adventure.

I arranged a tour from the local government unit. I don’t know if i was supposed to pay them, a woman coordinated with me, when a phone call the week before confirmed that i was indeed a solo female traveler. The mayor’s wife must be curious to meet me, She was there in her Hajib, she recommended me beach resorts where i could spend the night Dan Mar, Sand Bar, when i mentioned i wanted to climb Bongao Peak, it had to be arranged, i needed a guide for that, she said.

…………………………………………………………..

I had to place an urgent call to my bestfriend. I missed my flight but there’s no frozen chance in hell that i’ll miss out on my intended destination, Tawi-tawi will have to happen, cockroach infested hostel or not.

Marky said “Ok”.

I arrived well before my flight schedule.
People seemed calm, i was not in a rush, i breathed in the chilly Zamboanga air.
I could chalk it up to the phenomena where at 5am all my polite sensibilities just went flying out the window and I felt like a little kid who can’t help but talk to stranger danger. Was he dangerous? He had a string dangled on the pocket of his bag. A school ID, he looks to be about my age and doesn’t appear to be exceptionally strong or muscular. Perhaps I could Muay Thai him off if the situation calls for it.

*I poked the back of the person in front of me and asked him where he was going*

Waiting for my disappointing Airbus A360, I had hoped for a tiny turbo propelled carrier.The terminal seemed like a scene from my last family reunion, with invisible me detached from the hullabaloo of greetings, hugs and gossip. Sitting beside me suddenly is the local student who was probably infected by my initial curiosity and asked me who I was going to visit.

“No one, i don’t know anyone there.”
And suddenly transported into a scene from the Spanish Inquisition. I had to answer a smattering of questions. Finally as if receiving a 3 from a stern professor i got an invite from Wong See Jaafar, a 2nd year Political Science student from Mindanao State University- Tawi tawi for a special one-time-only tour of the century.

*If this was a movie, there will be a quick scene depicting my empty wallet, and unanimously, the audience will cheer, “Go for it!”.

…………………………………………………………..

I settled for a “hotel” in the city center. Hotel Juana, just near everything i can consider as creature comforts. There’s a TV, a bed with white sheets and an aging but still functional shower head. Simple, non-descript and it’s as if i was in millions of other hostels in the country.

I had a Satti lunch, as recommended by my guide. My, was my day lagging. I felt like i should be giddy, i was at the last frontier of the Philippines, even if when i booked my tickets months before i had no idea where Tawi-tawi is exactly. What i was doing felt so routine-ary, i asked her if i can go to Simunul, Sitangkai or the Snake House, an infamous abandoned stilt house within the beach inhabited by nothing but sea snakes. She said a permit from the Mayor would be best, i didn’t have time for no permits though. So too bad about that.

I’m thankful i was looked after, but i get enough of that at home.

…………………………………………………………..

“I thought you were the Chancellor’s daughter, I was wondering why she gained so much weight.”
- Leia, Wong’s Aunt.

I sniffed back my petty tears of insecurity and said Hello.

Wong, explained everything to his bewildered Mother, and i had a glimpse of her face that was alternating between concern, worry and finally settled on amusement. Perhaps she was relieved her son wasn’t about to elope.

Back at our 40 minute plane ride, Wong kindly briefed me about his life, family and customs that may avoid the likely scenario of me offending someone and getting my just desserts. Basic Arabic, “Assalahmalaikum” calling his Mom and Aunt as “Abong”, for they are the daughters of a Dato, tribe lessons, from the enterprising Yakans, to the fierce warriors of the Tausugs, to them the “Jama Mapuns”.
Obviously, only a few things stuck, because i called his Mother, “Tita Abong”.

They prepared breakfast, my favorite dried fish, eggs, bread and a curious novelty, Malaysian Maggi noodles. It was red, spicy and very tasty. I took a picture of it and they said, “Don’t, you should take pictures of seafood or special dishes”.
“Tita Abong, this is quite special for me.”

…………………………………………………………..

There’s very good reception in the Alien land of Tawi-tawi. I saw ads for Sun Cellular, there’s a Mercury drug store. An al fresco two story mall and the tricycles are just like at home.

Familiar, everything i saw and felt gave me social relevance.
We’re not very different, these people and us.

Overlooking the town hall that’s set atop a high hill overlooking the rest of Bongao, i saw the Governor’s pretty home. It’s nice here.

Peaceful. Quiet and very much as still at the sea of Sulu.

…………………………………………………………..

That heavy breakfast turned out to be in preparation for my grueling hike. I asked the “Abongs” if i was allowed to wear shorts, they said of course, there’s no stigma because it’s painfully obvious that it’s not an easy hike. I thanked her for her practical understanding and quietly thanked God i didn’t have to trek in my blue pyjamas.

We rode Wong’s motorcycle up to the base of Bongao Peak, i naively asked why are we getting off so early, the tippy top looks so far away and it looks impossible from my worm’s eye view. He said yup, this is it- about 3 hours and we left his red motorcycle with a friendly store vendor.

Now i’ll spare you the details of the climb and will just show snippets. Midway i realized that i forgot to bring bananas, a must for the Macaque monkeys that act as guardians for the mountain. I didn’t want to get a disfiguring curse so when we saw two men climbing the mountain i asked them whether they had any. They opened their knapsack and gave me half of their bunch, i wanted to pay for it and insisted, but they didn’t want my 50pesos. Wong later told me those nice men were Criminology students from his school.

…………………………………………………………..

With a very nice male guide i climbed the famous Bud Bongao.

Here’s a little bit of a cultural lesson i learned in between panting breaths and tired legs.

You will see strings of plastic, tied lovingly on branches, whatever you do, do not attempt to remove it. You’ll wake up with a huge pimple on your left eyelid or some other deformity.

And remember that not everyone has enough of what they need, even for important matters like medical needs, and if you needed me to tell you that you are either seriously kidding yourself or a politician.

So up in that mountain you will find people from desperate states negotiating the mountain’s tough terrains. Pregnant women at about 8-9 months along who are there to pray for a normal delivery because they can’t afford a c-section. Babies in a bundle brought by their parents to pray for their good health and fortune. Sick people being carried by their loved ones to asking fervently for a miracle.

Then you’ll hear the stories of how the mountain listened to their pure wish.

…………………………………………………………..

I’m sorry, i just wanted to see how deep it goes— a stupid, stupid mistake was what happened when i dipped my foot at the mystical fountain where Wong said we had to clean ourselves with.

The water was white-ish and opaque but when we use the dipper to get the water it turns clear. It smelled slightly of the earth, it tasted faintly of alkaline and it made me very curious. This was special, because according to Wong, your wishes will not be granted unless you are “clean” in the eyes of the mountain. It makes sense, there’s faucets and a place to clean yourself in every Mosque you will encounter.

And Bud Bongao has one, a makeshift mosque made with white tiles and wrought iron, about 6 meters in width, and 2 meters long. Just enough room for a few people to pray.

Good thing no one knew my faux pas except us, oh now and my 20 readers.

…………………………………………………………..

I met a people on the top. They were friendly, and they requested i take a photo of them. My guide urged me to do it, because it will be impolite to refuse. I took their picture and showed it to them, then they went back to taking pictures of themselves with their cameras

They are Tausugs from Jolo, who made a pilgrimage to Tawi-tawi. And they knew i wasn’t a Muslim, but that didn’t matter anyway,
#Whydidievenbringitup #lol

Stories are said about people getting robbed here. Some watches, a few pesos taken away by groups of men who sometimes wait for victims behind the thick foliage.

I hope that never happens again.

…………………………………………………………..

A scene from both settings:

The view is exhilirating and Bud Bongao is nothing short of breathtaking.
By the warm sun i played I-Spy, the Malaysian illegal fishing boats, the Navy detachment perched up high above to my left, there’s that blue, blue sky mirrored by the blue, blue sea.

My splintered time had a collision at that very moment.
And i wanted to pause it and play it every chance i get.

…………………………………………………………..

I left Wong my 4gig memory card crammed full of my favorite music and my black Sony headset. From that moment on, i’m at the mercy of the musical tastes of bus conductors, and boy, did i regret that decision when i spent 7 hours in a frigid bus to Pagadian from Zamboanga and had a driver with a penchant for Whitney Houston.
But that’s a story for another day.

…………………………………………………………..

Epilogue.

There was no plane crash those neither days, nothing so significant i’ll spend the rest of my life regretting it. Both events are just another page of a traveler’s diary, and save for a few words there really isn’t much of a difference. But words turn into ideas, ideas become our mindset and they dictate the direction in which we base our lives.

If what happened to me didn’t include the words adventure, trust, independence. How differently would life be for me? If i didn’t take a leap of faith and went with my gut feel, trusted myself to make the right kind of mistakes and felt free enough to act and make them right.

I probably wouldn’t be the same person right now.

A long and winding road serves as the major transport artery of the third largest island of the Philippines. A few hours would suffice to take you from Tacloban to Northern Samar, provided that the van schedules would cooperate. For us it didn’t, so we spent a night in Catarman and rode a van to Gandara the next day, we expected to alight in a town but instead we got dropped off in a Wild West montage of half open stores, a few people staring and wondering “what business you have in these parts” and a desolate street.

Not pictured: The rolling haystacks by the wind.

According to a recent census data, Matuginao is a 5th class municipality and is in fact one of the poorest places in the country. Most of the information found are nil at best so it wouldn’t come off as a surprise why this place has a priority ticket #595 for an urgent exploration mission.

I don’t know what you would mean by “off the beaten path” and if this type of road condition would qualify. We rented a couple of Habal-habals for 800P 2-way along the way rains would shower us periodically thus softening the chocolate-y roads we passed. It’s a parade of green fields, a few far-off mountains and an absence of civilization.

Military presence in these parts are normal. Oh don’t mistake the kid working. That’s NOT child labor….

I would say hello to fellow Military comrades but i forgot that we were on an undercover mission. Upon the assistance of our Habal-habal drivers we spoke briefly with their kind SK chairman who was more than willing to guide us to an eerie river and cave

Bob the Bee who likes going Buzz, buzz buzzity-buzz is a wee lil’ bee -residing in the idle beach of Bantayan, located in the tippity-top of pretty Cebu. He works day in and out at the honey factory for his sweets to be sold by the locals to rowdy cheapskate tourist that visit his hometown. Bob the Bumblebee isn’t like all the other bees in his factory though, he’s got a dream, and a big one at that.

Saccharine Sweet Sugar Beach in Bantayan

Bob the Bumblebee wants to get on the Bus to the Buzzing city to get a Busy job as a Copywriter. But a city isn’t the place for a Bee, and Bob knows it. Yet he still dreams about it day in day out.

Bob starts his day with a heavy breakfast in Le Petit Bonheur, because the french is fancy and their food is pretty.

He spied on two humans eating breakfast, they were too cheap to buy his Honey. Bob the Bumblebee thought they were missing out, for that honey is the best honey in all of the whole wide world. But Bob wasn’t so sure of that because for all his life Bantayan beach has been the entirety of his world.

“How very yummy this breakfast is”, Bob heard the human girl say.
“Yes, it is. very much like those that you can find in S&R”, the human boy replied.

Bob didn’t know what S&R is, nor did he pay much mind to it. He just remembered Copywriting 101 that should you want to entice someone with a certain product, make it uniquely desirable in a conscious and subconscious level.

It is undeniably unbelievable why the lil’ Bumblebee Bob would ever want to leave Bantayan. But Bees do what Bees wanna do so if we don’t agree then it’s a shame.

Bob had a problem though, he had no way of ever doing the most important thing ever in the history of ever applying for a Copywriting gig.
For Bob the little Bumblebee had no hands to construct his CV.
So stuck, he was in beautiful paradise to contemplate.

Bob the Bumblebee is suffering from a severe identity crisis, no longer a spring chicken at 1 week old, he wondered whether making honey is all there ever will be for him. For one thing, he knew Bumblebees aren’t honeybees and this story is flawed right from the very beginning but let’s not blame the Narrator, shall we?

Handless existence aside, Bob the Bumblebee is a Buddhist, which is as far as Bees with religion goes and that he might be undertaking an impasse in his life, so with balancing wants, needs and quiet dreams Bob buzz buzz buzzes away, leading him to his most favorite place in the whole entire Bantayan.

Why a Buddhist lil’ Bumblebee went to the 15th century old Sts. Peter and Paul Parish Church in Sta. fe Bantayan is a context glitch that the Narrator is too lazy to clear out, Bob the lil’ Bumblebee is a brave creature who said. “Damned bee all, chase my dreams i shall for the winners don’t wait for no one.” If a human were to hear his inspiring declaration it will be roughly translated to
“Brr. Bzz Br-zzzz.Zztt”

So off he went to the deep blue sea towards the mainland island of Cebu. Onwards he will go to chase his beautiful dreams of computer typing, cubicle jobs, a steady paycheck at the end of the month and the stability that his wee lil’ quaint honey factory in the middle of a beach paradise just couldn’t give.

For if there is one thing that bees and big humans have in common, it’s that desire to do good and be better. Well, for most Bees anyway.

But Bees do get tired of flying. And our sad little Bob was doomed to sink through the middle of the cold and unforgiving seas. Unable to swim because his teeny tiny lil’ Bee wings can’t support his weight, if you remember your science book, them being able to fly in the first place is nature’s anomaly. Much so is a Bee who can swim the salty sea spittoon.

So why Bob, why? Who’ll give us honey now? – The naive traveler humans might ask, should they find out what happened to Bob.

But care, they won’t for the honey factory has millions of other bees and Bob was a mere dot in the Jackson Pollock painting of his Bantayan island life.

The next morning, now that this story is bereft of its protagonist, we follow the Human Boy and Girl that we briefly saw yesterday, both of them are nondescript regular humans about to satiate their bellies, in Le Petit Bonheur again, no less.

“Mmmmm. Pancakes, but where’s the Honey?”, said so by the Girl.
“Try sikwate or the tablea, like Hershey’s but more native-y” replied the Human Boy. And ate it, they did. Not minding that yesterday a Bee that they didn’t notice the day before is morbidly floating in the seas but yum.yum.yummy was the breakfast so there’s where you should go, travelers.

And going back to Budyong Beach resort, the Humans failed to discreetly borrow the lone surfboard. Which will be useless too, knowing that there’s no waves in Bantayan to ride.

But it’s still got the brightest whitest sand one can imagine, the blue-est blue waters that an artist can render and it all combines to be the most beautiful beach ever in existence.

The Narrator is finding it hard to keep on following Humans, endemic to the planet Earth. And for one thing, they don’t really do much.

So we try to see what’s left of Bob as an honorary tribute to the Bee that thought he could be– a Copywriter., who the Narrator has been fond of, for he is indeed very likable. Bob isn’t the type who uses Yoda-language too, like how some Humans would be to sound smarter than they are. It’s just taking advantage of creative license.

Bye-bye Humans, thought the Narrator as they both boarded the Sta. Fe barge at the same afternoon. It was great telling your non-story.

Bob, who would be floating along as a decaying Bee-corpse if it wasn’t for a white boat that passed by his exact coordinates. Bob could’ve saved himself a near death experience if he just hitched on a boat in the first place, but Bob was good, safe and closer to Cebu now more than ever.

It may not be a secure thing, for Bob the lil’ Bumblebee who took a tumble of faith away from Bantayan. But for now it was good enough to know that if you work hard and keep your chinny chin up, maybe someday the Universe will get the message and send you a boat that can take you where you want to go.

* insert coin to continue with the story *