Sweat trailed downward like small translucent rivers on the dancer’s darkened face, his eyes reddish, his face painted gray, his lips black, his breath ragged. His brows furrowing, he eyed the contingent in front of them. He touched the corner of his right eye lightly. By the look of it, he stopped himself from ardently rubbing it. Curiosity got the better of me, I stopped framing him in my camera, crossed the short distance, and asked “What’s the matter?” “Ang pintal man gyod,” he paused, his brows furrowing again, “di body paint. Baratuhon ni. Hapdos sa mata,” he supplied. So […]
It is six in the morning, and the siloys and tamsis are as chirpy as ever. Surprisingly, I was able to sleep soundly right before the clock reached midnight. From Traveller’s veranda, I could not hear the lapping of the waves. The water must be calm enough for a dip—a deep dip—later. Yesterday, it was my first time to meet Cebu-based travel bloggers/freedivers—Doi, Dylan, and Johnn. While I found the deep blue sea mysterious and threatening at the onset, they looked at home in it already with their fins and snorkeling gear.
“Piyesta ron sa among parokya, day! Naay daghang kaon! Pwede mo maimbitar?” said a man in his early 50s drinking on the shore with younger men. I knew they were curious about my companion, a beautiful Japanese maiden. “Libre, K’ya?” I smirked. It is hard to say no to food. “O, oy! Dali! Adto ta ninyo!” I told Midori about it. She was game for it. The then-chapel by the road leading to Kawasan is now a church. And most of its surroundings are cemented.