The 49th Log

I stepped out of the arrival area of the airport and was immediately face to face with an area that looks somewhat like a park. I smiled inwardly and was ready to exclaim how nice it is in the countryside when it hit me that I've been awake for 8 hours and haven't eaten anything decent except for a packet of crackers.

While I scoured the row of stores selling souvenirs for a cheap diner, I thought again of the not-so-good factors stacked against me in this trip. You see, I haven't been in that province before, I don't speak the local dialect and I have a not-so-comprehensive map of my destination with me. To top it all, I only had 600 pesos. No other cash. And definitely no plastic. For a split second, it even occurred to me that I didn't have to be there. But there's something in those kind of situations that challenges me so I went anyway -- after all, adventures are remembered better that way.

Well, riding a cab is no fun (and much more expensive to boot) so I got on the jeepney with my luggage. At first, I was cringing as I was seated in the midst of a group who were noisily talking to each other. At some point they asked me where I was going and I told them I need to go to Calaanan. To my surprise, they insisted I could get off by the shopping mall where there are motorcycles bound for Calaanan charging only 30 pesos.

I decided to follow their suggestion and rode a motorcycle, which they call "Habal-habal". Apparently, that's what they use when going to out-of-the-way places like Calaanan -- I would later understand why. We whizzed past farmlands then came to a winding path which made me realize we're actually in the mountains. Thirty turns after, I reached the house of the volunteer organization I would be joining.

The next 14 days would be spent deep in wet mud, shoveling debris, tearing off wood panels, scrubbing walls and receiving snacks from kind locals. I did not, for one minute, regret my decision that time to push through despite the odds.