The music of the northeasterly winds over Siquijor

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Four years ago, I came to Siquijor on the occasion of the International Year of Mountains to give Mt. Bandilaan a check, that is said to be the highest peak of the Malabahog mountain range rising at 557 feet above sea level. Then, I entered into the Mt. Bandilaan Nature Park at 8:30 pm on June 15, 2002, almost reliving scenes of the film Blairwitch Project, and pitched tent at the camping area.

Hours back, I had a dip at a pool created by gushing waters of Cambugahay Falls, and visited one of the ancient churches dating back 1886, and the largest convent in the Philippines in Lazi town.

The other weekend, I was back in Siquijor. Whiff of the mystic winds is still there dominating the air. Siquijor continues to enthrall visitors with its bewitching beauty and spellbinding charm. A load of stories on its mysticism was the driving force why in 2002, I set out on a journey along with two companions, and trooped to Siquijor, spent three and a half hours touring around the island (thanks to our driver, Mr. Al Pagente of the Department of Health), dropping by scenic spots once seen only on brochures.

The other Saturday, I smelled again that air of mystic, touched in my heart again that firefly-lit sky where rain clouds stormed the celestial horizon. Amid its ever-rocky seas made even more turbulent by the northeasterly winds still gaining these months a momentum, my companions and I of the 6-man The FREEMAN Foundation team took to Bitaug Elementary School, barangay Bitaug, Enrique Villanueva town the "Dream Satellite Project".

As I watched schoolchildren huddle around the antenna specialist who installed the Dream satellite dish and tested the reception of the 25-inch Kolin color TV set with the Integrated Receiver/Decoder equipment donated by Operation Damayan of the Star Group of Publications on the occasion of its 20th year in public service, I began getting a feel again of that enthrallment, of the memories of literally a thousand fireflies lighting up trees that looked more like scarecrows in the dark at the Bandilaan Nature Park.

In the afternoon, we were received at the Casa de la Playa owned and managed by the tandem of Sangguniang Panlalawigan member Emily Gom-os and German national Ilse "Terry" Schwaha, a beach resort perfect for the hideaway located in barangay Sandugan, Larena town. For those who would want to check that "enchanting beach resort" according to Manay Emily, check www.siquijorcasa.com. You are guaranteed of a very warm host - Manay Emily herself - who knows Siquijor like the back of her hand and is not afraid to babble about healers and magic, and potions and voodoo dolls. And is very much willing to share a piece of her estate for a temporary campsite. Tinood gyud ni, forty square meters daw nga tent iyang ma-accommodate kon na-a mo ana kadako nga tent! (A tent designed with vestibules just like those four-season tents you saw blown by the spindrift on Base Camp of Everest).

Also Manay Emily is there to act as weather forecaster, up with an advisory on where and when to take a boat home. We went against her advice and so we suffered the wrath of the sea in the most uncomfortable ride ever aboard a catamaran bound for Dumaguete City, Oriental Negros. We rose with the crest and dipped with the troughs of the big waves and swung from side to side for over an hour, went against the northeasterly winds, then survived it with a prayer that if we couldn't make it alive, at least we wouldn't leave the world with a vomit from that jiggly ride.

And now we live to tell! That night before setting back home, we combed the beachfront of Casa de la Playa admiring one gorgeous sunset and the music of the surf's spews and sloshes, as well as the murmuring of the wind caught entangled in a web of mangroves.

The lovely moon was out, yet pale and unable to achieve a perfect rotund, but it set the seas alive as it etched gracefully its way onto the waters' surface. Ben Marcojos, our company driver who also dabbled as videographer in covering the turnover ceremony for the Dream Satellite Project, was wading through the waters collecting starfish (I got the urge to give him a piece of my bloody mind for his not observing a protocol towards nature - touch nothing - but I also considered that maybe he has the fetish for such).

I focused on tinkering the video camera to check on the footage while enjoying the song of the sea at the lanai of the Millennia, where we were billeted. Our general manager, Melandro "Sir Boy" Mendoza decided to hit the sack ahead of us. My two girlfriends-officemates, Faith Maroto and Jocelyn Ulla, had also dozed off after him, while my best buddy Dick Batucan of the Circulation department was in the shower room after a chit-chat with Ben and the president of the Bitaug Elementary School Parents Teachers Community Association, Gilbert Sumalpong who drove us around the island with his multicab.

I was left all alone to myself counting stars on their lethargic hiccups, planting my feet on damp yet warm sand, I was imploring again the wind to direct perfectly the roll and pull of the mast and the sail of that journey.

Again, the music of so much realizations came drum-beating in on me: forces of darkness do not thrive after all in Siquijor, but in the minds of those who refuse to come, to see, to conquer and listen to the notes of the northeasterly winds over Siquijor's seas that sing hymns of rural charm, of a laidback lifestyle, of serenity, of communion with the elements - of the need to fill in the missing riffs of the purpose of our existence.