The hardest part is doing it twice

Some might think that 6 days is an eternity when spending it in a country where modern conveniences are at a minimum, but like with any great thing, it was over sooner than we would have liked. Those 6 days went by like a passing thought; we were so busy enjoying ourselves that we had forgotten than one day, it would all have to end. I thought that having to say goodbye to them for the first time in SFO on that fateful December evening was a trying experience and there in Baybay, I found myself having to do it again for the second time. There are people out there who do this on a regular basis and I couldn’t help but wonder how they manage to do it time after time? I thought about OFWs who leave their loved ones behind while they search for a livelihood in foreign places, away from the familiar faces and comforts of home. I tried to find some momentary solace in the fact that unlike OFWs, I was going back to a place that is familiar to me and a place that millions of Filipinos could only dream of reaching. However, the thought was of very little consolation; as nothing could erase the feeling that I was leaving a part of myself behind. As much as we all would have liked for things to return as they were, this was the reality we had to face.

As luck would have it, my departure happened to be on a rainy day; befitting of the mood, but a little inconvenient. I got up early so I could spend as much of my remaining time with the Siosons, so I picked up all of my luggage, surrendered my key to the front desk and bid adieu to Asia Novotel. I stopped by Julie’s Bakeshop hoping to taste their wonderful spanish bread for one last time, but they happened to be fresh out so I had to settle for cheesy ensaymada. I made my way to the pastoral house and there we relaxed until it was time to go. I had a few hours before my ride was scheduled to depart for Tacloban and it went by surprisingly quickly. As the hour drew closer, we had a family prayer for my safe journey back to the States and that’s when it really hit me. I don’t know if it was the possible dangers that could befall me, the fact that I was leaving them all behind, or wondering when I will be able to see them again, but I found it impossible to hold the tears back. Luckily everyone had their eyes closed so I had a chance to compose myself before we were done praying; I’ve yet to acquire the comfort to freely display my emotions. Afterwards, we had enough time to take some last minute pictures of the chapel and then we headed off to the bus terminal.

We arrived with a few minutes to spare so we took that time to say our goodbyes to one another. Before I hopped into the van, Lormi and I shared one last embrace. Looking back on it now, I wish I had something inspiring and encouraging to say to her, but I couldn’t. I felt numb; I’m not an emotional person by nature so maybe a part of me tried to dull the pain and block it out because I just stood there unable to do anything except hold her tight.

Baybay’s bus terminal

As I hopped into the van, I felt calm and composed despite knowing that I may not see them again for who knows how long. But as the driver began to pull away from the makeshift van terminal, I saw Lormi waving as we drove past and my facade of toughness began to break down. This was really the last time I would see them and the city of Baybay. No more Julie’s, no more Prince jingle, no more Dunkin Donuts, no more white sand beaches. It took all of my fortitude to keep myself from bawling in front of all the strangers in the van, but I can honestly say that was absolutely the most difficult part of the entire trip.

Soon after we left Baybay city limits, the rain began to pour as if to do its best to keep us from reaching our destination. This was further driven home as we were about to travel through the most treacherous part of the trip, the winding roads leading up to Mahaplag Crossing, when our van’s wipers decided to conk out. Here we were, driving through a wildly unpredictable stretch of road, in a van with no wipers. I sat in the middle seat of the second row and I could see that the driver had maybe 2-3 feet of visibility ahead of him. The sheets of rain made it nearly impossible to make out anything that wasn’t the size of a vehicle so I feared that we might run someone down or worse, plunge down a cliff into the unforgiving jungle below. I began to feel a sense of relief that a minister prayed for me before I left, as if it would be more effective than a prayer from a laymember, but at that point I had to do anything to keep my mind off of the harrowing ride. The rain refused to let up, but at times it would take a short break and that’s when the driver punched the gas pedal to take advantage of a few minutes of clarity. It proved to be effective, as not only did it help us make up time but also to clear up the windshield of any water.

Tacloban Airport’s departure “lounge”

Miraculously, we made it to the van terminal in Tacloban in one piece and in less than 3 hours; pretty impressive even though we were put in obvious danger. I also found it a little strange when the van company’s motto is “Your safety on the road is our primary concern” and there we were driving blind waiting to make the evening news. While all of the passengers made it out safe, the danger wasn’t quite over for kuya driver. The van terminal was full when we arrived so the van had to park on the driveway, unfortunately, this pissed off another driver that was trying to park his van inside the terminal. The angry driver was probably upset that his passengers had to unload on the street so he promptly stepped out of the van to confront our driver about his less than satisfactory parking job. He began to curse his mother and as they came face to face, the angry driver looked like he was fixing to serve up a few knuckle sandwiches. He pulled back at the last minute, but the entire confrontation was incredibly heated despite our driver’s attempts to appease the hotheaded driver. Despite the excitement, I decided not to stick around to see if any blows would be exchanged so I hired a tricycle to take me to the airport. I have to admit, it’s nicer taking the tricycle despite the noise and the fact that it’s slower than most vehicles; there’s nothing quite like feeling the gentle ocean breeze brush your face as you soak in your surroundings.

I made it to Tacloban Airport with plenty of time to spare so I had to wait outside the terminal until it was closer to the time of departure. Suddenly, I didn’t feel like such an outsider anymore, as I was able to see the variety of people visiting Leyte; from aid workers from the States, Europe, and Asia to a friar of the order, complete with brown robes and all! Despite the disorganized and unruly appearance of the airport; the place is actually quite efficient. My flight was re-scheduled for an early departure and the guards asked everyone waiting outside for their flight information and had all of those affected by the change to make their way into the check-in counters. The X-Ray machines and metal detectors have yet to be replaced, so all of the security checks are done manually; the searches aren’t particularly thorough so the line moves at a respectable rate. The check-in counters were also just as quick and I was able to make my way to the waiting room fairly quickly. All in all, my arrival and departure experience in Tacloban Airport has been all aces; not bad for an airport that was under water less than six months ago.

With nothing but waiting ahead of me, I began to reflect on this entire trip. I still find it hard to believe that there I was, sitting at the very airport that I had only seen in pictures just days before. I didn’t let the fear of the unknown deter me from making my way here and it has resulted in what will likely be one of the most rewarding experiences of my entire life. In retrospect, it doesn’t seem like such a big deal now, but as many others will attest, the first step is always the hardest part and I’m glad that I took the plunge. I am very thankful for the Sioson family for making me feel like I was back home and making my stay in Leyte a memorable one. Nanay took care of me like I was one of her kids; making sure that I always had something to eat, always accompanying me to the worship service and giving me a place to hang out. I also want to thank daddy for letting me hang out in his house and spend time with his daughter. Can’t forget to thank the brothers Sioson, Romielou and Christian for providing hours of entertainment by causing random chaos in GTA V, imitating the ‘unique’ laugh of a mutual friend, and for driving us where we needed to go. And lastly, I want to thank Lormi; for making my stay memorable and giving me a reason to smile; but perhaps most importantly, for giving me the motivation and the courage needed to make this trip. It’s not every day you get the inspiration to venture deep outside of your comfort zone and into uncharted territory so when you feel your sense of adventure calling you, answer with confidence because it might be your one and only chance.

When the Siosons for Leyte back in December, they were heading off to an uncertain future; many wept for their plight as no one had any idea what to expect. This time, while the pain of saying goodbye is as unbearable as before, at least I was able to walk away knowing that they’re in good hands. God always watches out for His own and of all the places that they could have ended up in, I’m glad they were sent to this part of Leyte. It’s a quiet and peaceful land far removed from the hustle, distractions and danger of the big cities; the kind of place that American expatriates would pay to visit and to eventually retire in. This is the one thought that I carried as I made my way back to the States and it’s the place that I dream of returning to every time I close my eyes. In the words of General Douglas MacArthur, Leyte’s most honored and celebrated hero, “I came through and I shall return.”