The runway of Roxas City airport almost leads out to the waters of Sibuyan Sea. The way the plane maneuvers in preparation for its landing makes this one of my favorite (and a bit scary) landing spots. As I looked out the window and saw the dark blue waters almost a spitting distance away, the plane made a hard turn in the air at a very low altitude. I felt throbbings inside my chest. As the wheels touched the ground and I heard the brakes grinding the plane slowly, I heaved a sigh of relief and started imagining myself drowning in fresh seafood again.

The first time I was here, the weather was aggressively taking a full swing at us. We've patiently waited for a chance to learn surfing after we finished actively inspecting the library we sought to fill with books. The cloud quickly turned darker, and the wind fiercely whistled from our spot to yonder; we thought the slim chance of hooking up with a surfboard had completely gone to dust.

Then came the green light—from the local surfers who've seen swells forming half a kilometer away. Like caged animals now out on a prowl, we excitedly headed towards their direction. The heavy rain, though, didn't just shower us; it practically stabbed us through our skin. Needling out of the sky at around a 20-30 degree angle, it hit us like tiny darts, rapidly doubling its intensity. With no shelter nearby, we had no choice but to proceed. We ran forward and backward just to give each side of our body a temporary reprieve until we successfully reached the small nipa hut where the surfboards safely lay aground.