Just Thinking: Then and Now, and Thirty Minutes in Tagaytay

This is how you do it: on top of a jeep, heading towards paradise

I was in Tagaytay in the past two days for work.  During the time we were finally given the pre-dinner break --- and people started drifting off to their rooms or to the smoking area --- I was suddenly itching to take a walk.  It was a moment you can actually define as tinopak.  So walk, I did.  On the dirt sidewalk along Calamba Road.

To be honest it was, in a way, an important highlight for me.  It was not because I "needed to get away".  It was just exhilarating to walk on this rugged path which can be quite dangerous: vehicles zipped past, and I was walking on the side of the road that was terribly lit.  But it was a cool evening, there was a hint of a chilly breeze, and it was --- occasionally --- quiet.  The sky was clear Thursday night, the stars were out, and a sliver of the moon was the lone hole in the sky.  It reminded me of the time I was traveling my kind of traveling, if you know what I mean.

I brought up these past travels with Liz who was with me in these many misadventures, one rainy Monday night over risotto and chicken.  I had to remind her of our Palawan trip, particularly this leg from El Nido to Sabang (where the Underground River is).  As we took the last trip from the junction and the jeep was already full, we had no choice but to ride on the roof... along with sacks of food, equipment, and other interesting stuff you don't normally share space with while on the road.  I was positioned right on the front end of the roof which means should the driver make a sudden stop I would definitely fly off the roof and crash, like those cartoon sketches that are (supposed to be) funny.  Liz, who was squealing sort of behind me, was sitting on a plastic bag filled with... fresh meat.  It was such a treat, believe me.

Anyways, as Liz has been held hostage in the hospital for, oh, years, we haven't done any Palawan Part Two or Phuket Part Two or even Batanes Part Two.  So on that particular rainy Monday night, as Liz was (as usual) complaining about her schedule (and asking herself why she's taking up surgery for the trillionth time), I told her I was looking forward to the day she could finally get away so we could do another set of misadventures along the same tune of riding on the roof of a jeepney or flying via an airplane taxi stocked with live chickens and --- believe it or not --- a small drum of fuel.

But Liz said something like, "Can't we stay in a decent hotel next time?"  Yes, as we are older and, yes, in our current state we can afford a decent hotel instead of some hut in some back alley miles away from the center of the action, maybe it's about time to hire a van and arrive at our intended destination in, say, second-class style.

Breakfast at the (Starbucks) Universal Sheraton, Los Angeles

In the past year my adventures have been along the lines of these "decent hotels".  I was truly disorientated when I had to travel with a suitcase and not with the usual backpack.  It has been about traveling for business and traveling for the purpose of representing something.  Believe me, I was disorientated but hey, I am not complaining!

I was reminded of these things during that brief walk in Tagaytay, which, if only I wasn't conscious of the time, I'd probably end up at the edge of Taal Lake.  It was just so nice to wander off, with your consciousness bare to the bones, unminding of the supposed consequences as your being is just about the moment: the road, the sky, the dirt, the smoke belched by belchers, the reality that I was doing this, alone, away, flawed and fated.