Maddulo kamu
April 8, 2005 | 12:00am
I’m sitting across a computer in Lyceum College Cagayan, a few hours after I had the honor of giving the commencement address to this year’s new batch of graduates. It’s nearing midnight, I’m stuffed full of almond de gas and I’m half-asleep. But duty calls, so here I am, pounding away using my brilliant two-finger-stare-at-the-keyboard typing technique. (I never really learned how to type – I had one eye open during my typing exams in first year high school).
My Dad spent the whole of last week warning me about the excruciating heat in Cagayan. "You think Manila’s hot?" he asked, shaking his head sadly. "Cagayan valley is much, much hotter." So the obedient daughter packs a duffel bag with short skirts, tubes and tank tops.
In Tuguegarao, Dad and I were greeted by a cold wind that whipped at my hair and dragged at my skirt. It wasn’t long before I was thinking wistfully of the thermal underwear and thick sweaters folded away in my cotton dresser drawer. "We’ve been getting some freak weather lately," our host said. I smiled, thanked him for taking us in, and proceeded to spend the next few hours shivering.
Our host, Dr. Shalom Abraham, lives in a beautiful home overlooking the Cagayan River. When he led us to his backyard, there were two things that caught my attention. The first was the incredible vista before us, with the blue, blue river cutting across green sunlit fields. The second sight was a little more bizarre. At first I thought it was a pillow someone left lying on the yard – a black-and-white, overstuffed ruffled pillow, but a pillow nonetheless. Then the pillow suddenly raised itself on a pair of skinny legs and walked – no, strutted – away from us. The turkey – it was a turkey – is a pet of our host’s son Suheil. It reminded me of those overdressed, over made-up matrons who teeter into weddings – the kind stuffed into shiny embroidered dresses that seem heavy enough to make them fall over. The turkey looked as if it would collapse under the weight of his feathers. It kept on, of course, with the bland dignity of the professional model. The backyard was its catwalk, and the darling was showing off for all it was worth.
Our host promised to take us spelunking (cave exploring) in the Callao caves. After I changed into capris and thong slippers (the closest to sporty I could get) our host loaded us into his van. We passed through roads that brought to mind the Roller-Skater in Enchanted Kingdom, for the road rose and fell every few meters. I resisted the urge to raise my arms and scream "wheeee!"
To reach the first cavern, a visitor has to climb a series of stone steps up the side of the mountain. We climbed a total of a hundred and eighty-eight steps. At the twentieth, I was taking pictures and bouncing from step to step. At number fifty, I was wheezing through my teeth and promising to increase my two-hundred-sit-ups-a-year-rule (I do all of them on New Year’s Day). At the hundredth step, I was quietly considering the probability of a Tarzan-type male swinging out of the trees and picking me up to deposit me at the top. By the time I was at the second to the last flight, my brain had shut down, and all that was left was a physical, primitive battle between the mountain and me.
I think the mountain won.
When we entered the mouth of the cavern, it was a scene straight out of The Lord of the Rings. I kept expecting Aragorn to come rushing out the mouth of the cave. Since my last association with stalactites was through a sixth grade geology book, I had to look it up just now to make sure. A stalactite is "an icicle-shaped mass of calcite attached to the roof of a limestone cavern," made from calcium carbonate formed by dripping groundwater. They pierced out of the roof and dived to the ground, like dragons about to grab for prey.
Those on the ground, the stalagmites, lay like sleeping monsters; others shaped like lovers in the grip of passion. I continually turned around to assure myself that the walls weren’t following me around. Everything felt so alive. I’m nineteen and supposedly an adult, but I cringed from touching some of the rocks, for fear that I would awaken some sleeping beast. If I were the type to pray any moment, I’d be praying there and then – it’s one of the places where you’re sure that God must be nearby.
We took a boat ride down the Pinacauan River, on what seemed like an old-fashioned wooden boat (it’s only later that you notice the motor attached to one end). The water was a deep green, meters high and and clear enough to see to the bottom. It was like a moment out of time, and it’s no surprise that the lives of Filipinos revolve around waters like this. The Tagalog take their name from ilog, the Maranao from ranao, and the Ibanag from the word bannag: all of them mean river. The Tausug are literally the "People of the Waves," for sug to them means waves. The Itawit are the "People of the Brook" (from tawi), the Malaueg "People of the Spring" (from ueg) and the Ilokano the "People of the Cove" (from rook).
It was at dinner when I asked if there was a store near where I could buy makeup. I’m inept when it comes to putting on makeup, but I’ve found that covering eyebags is the one thing I have to be competent in. My concealer, along with the rest of my kikay kit, is right now beside my bed in Talayan village, leaving me desperate and looking like I haven’t slept for days.
Dr. Abraham, however, said makeup was unnecessary. I thought he was about to pay me a compliment – apparently he was going to say that Father Joel, the priest running Lyceum, had arranged for a beauty parlor appointment for me before my speech. I’ve never thought a priest would be one of the few people who could answer the question: "What do women tant?"
Sure enough, a charming young gentleman named Gladys visited me in my dorm room, in huge silver hoop earrings and wearing a midriff printed blouse. I spent the first half of the time trying to figure out who he looked like. Then it hit me. "Do you know," I asked, "that you look like Cher?" He laughed, and proceeded to fix my face. *"In fairview!" he laughed delightedly.
Tomorrow, I’ll be exploring the very tip of Luzon (in a miniskirt, for once I dread the thought). If the rest of the Philippines is half as amazing as what I’ve seen in the last two days, then this city girl has found another reason to be proud of being Filipino.
It’s nearly one o’clock now, and I’m off to bed. As they say here, Dios ta gabi nikamu.
To the uninitiated, "in fairview" is a gay twist on "In fairness."
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