February 22, 2008:
The late evening in Quezon City ended when I was rushed to the taxi which drove me to the bus station. I was to spend the weekend with (welcoming) strangers and hitch a bus with them to Baguio’s annual flower festival several hours north of Manila’s metropolis. The bus station was chaotic, erratic and crowded because of the mass departure for the festival. Just as I was about to give up, I was spotted by Krystal’s friend, and hastily met the rest of the party. They had already decided to drop all plans of heading to Baguio. We hopped onto an available bus to the shore, which obviously didn’t meet our original expectations as we were dressed and ready for chilly Baguio. Nonetheless, I was (and always will be) prepared for spontaneous adventure. Even though it was late in the evening, we hopped onto a crowded bus at 11 pm and drove north west for approximately four, five hours. The four of us eventually walked out of the bus, and as I recall, I remember fresh air exhaled by greens lining the road and cool salt air. Adrenaline rose from exhaustion during the odd hour in the night/morning as I followed in tired awe along the edge of a dark road. One of us was already familiar with the area, so we checked out several hotels where nobody was around. Three of us eventually dropped ourselves onto an empty stage set up on the beach, facing the ocean, as the fourth one walked around the area to see if anyone was awake. With not knowing what was happening while walking through a quiet beach late at night, and sleeping out in the open, that blurred evening gave the highest high I’d ever felt.
Just visiting? start from the beginning.