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 as one of my favorite (and a bit scary) landing spot. As I looked out the window and saw the dark blue waters almost a spitting distance away, the plane makes a hard turn in the air at a very low altitude. I felt throbbings inside my chest. As the wheels touches the ground and I hear the brakes grinding the plane slowly, I heave a sigh of relief and started imagining myself drowning in fresh seafoods again. 

After covering the Sinadya sa Hilaran festival in Roxas City from morning until the nighttime fluvial parade, I crashed on my bed with an almost sapped energy. The next morning I woke up same time as sunrise. My plan was to walk around, eat breakfast, go back to the hotel, freshen up and check out. I haven't gone too far when I noticed this oval track stadium just a stone throw away from Nesta's Hill Top Hotel. The sun has just risen enough to expose the white clouds against the blue skies. The scene inside was enticing, the greens of the center field encircled by the red rubbery terrain of the oval track has 'running' written all over it. "I must run here" I told myself. A few people where already inside, some were fast amassing laps under their belts while others were walking, stretching or doing arnis exercises.

When I was a kid a spontaneous trip to the beach means going to Matabungkay or Punta Baluarte in Batangas, when I reached puberty it became Puerto Galera until it became Pundaquit, Zambales and more recently Baler became a popular endpoint for that spur of the moment "are you bored? let's go to the beach" kind of sprees. I've almost next to nothing memories of Punta Baluarte anymore and images of a still un-crowded and resort-free Talipanan beach in Puerto Galera remains in my head, same with Pundaquit in Zambales when my older brother first took me there back in high school, I can still vividly remember its long stretch of white sands with only a few huts scattering far out from each other. Places have a way of converting itself, until you realize the one in your head is more preferable than the present state.

The first time I was here the weather was taking a full swing at us. We've waited for a chance to learn surfing, after we finished inspecting the library we sought to fill with books. The cloud turned darker and the wind whistles from our spot to yonder, we thought the chance of hooking up with a surf board has gone to dust. Then came the green light - from the local surfers who've seen swells forming a half a kilometer away. like caged animals now out on a prowl we headed towards their direction. The rain though didn't just showered us, it stabbed us through our skin. Needling out of the sky at around 20-30 degree angle, it hit us like tiny darts, doubling its intensity and 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 reprieve until we reached the small nipa hut where the surfboards lay aground.