sa dagat: patungo

Sometime during our orientation seminar, I discovered Calapan, Oriental Mindoro was a measly four hours away from home. FOUR friggin’ HOURS. Other Manila people were assigned three days away by boat. “Four hours?”, I thought to myself, “so not fair. It’s too near Manila.”

But when I was interviewed I did say that I was willing to be assigned wherever they feel I would be able to serve best. And you have to hand it serendipity, I was the only communications major and CEDC was the only area that needed one. You can’t get any more MFEO (made for each other) than that.

Anyway…
May 25, 1998.
The day after our Mission Mass.
My departure from Manila to Calapan.

I was to meet up with Tatine Faylona, a former volunteer from Mindoro, at 5 AM (*grunt*) in the JVP house. This day was a rare moment because my dad actually brought me farther than Makati. During my entire four years of boarding in college, I could count on my hand the number of times he brought me to the QC area. So it was a touching moment. I could feel their apprehension about seeing me boldly go where no Resurreccion has gone before. Despite putting on a brave front, I could sense they were worried about me. And I loved them for that. For being worried and for being brave.

Tatine and I took an air-con bus to Batangas pier. A trip I just slept through. Having woken up early, my consciousness was barely alive.

We finally got to the pier after a little over three hours. The salty smell of the sea welcomed me as the waves bobbed up and down in greeting. It was the first time I have been to a pier in fifteen years. The terminal looked nothing more than a warehouse with chairs. But it was an entirely new world to me.

It buzzed with people. People and bags of all sizes littered the entire area. I held on to my things as I have heard a lot of pier horror stories. But mostly Manila-based thieves. Still I didn’t want to end up like those first time probinsyanos in the movies, except it was reverse. A city girl thrown at the mercy of the country folk.

The excitement was building up in my stomach. I felt a little better realizing that I was still separated from Manila by an expanse of ocean and that was good enough for me.

The PA called for the passengers of the Supercat from Batangas to Calapan. To my surprise, we were riding an giant air-conditioned catamaran. I’ve never ridden in one before so I was quite in awe when I went in seeing large seats, nicely-dressed stewards and a snack bar.

“Nge. Akala ko ba cheapest route?” Volunteers, as part of the JVP experience, are asked to take the cheapest route to their areas, though with a fine print of comfortable travel. I seem to have had the comfortable part at pat. Cheapest, I’m not sure.

But hey… I’m not complaining.

So I sat by the window seat. Batangas whizzed by. The water was glistening in the sun. I could hear the Supercat’s engine humming steadily, accompanied by the splish-splash of the Batangas Channel.

In 45 minutes I will be having a new home, a new life. My mind drifted with the ocean wondering what that will be like.