We were fortunate the minibus bound for Moalboal was about to leave. Virhenia secured a good seat in front while I was stuck in the inconvenient middle. Yes, window seats are the best. It gives me the feeling of being confined yet continually moving. The life outside the window only lives for a split second. It makes me think that moving—to move on—is not for the self to decide; rather the place dictates oneself to move on. The bus conductor handed the ticket.
On our way to Mantalongon, the habal-habal (motorbike) suddenly wobbled. We stopped. A flat tire. “Asa ang pinakaduol na vulcanizing shop, dire, bay?” the driver asked the guy idling in the waiting shed. “Sa unahan, bay.” In Cebu, around the bend takes thirty minutes or so. It unexpectedly rained, so we sought shelter at the nearby store while waiting for the driver to return. Two old men advised us to wait til the rain ebbed since they could tell it was raining hard in Barili by just looking at the mist-covered mountains. While we were waiting, an outraged old woman arrived […]