It was a good first night. Cold and starry, but the company of fellow strangers kept the night warm. It was a party of a Spanish couple, a Jew, Alex - an American, and me – a Filipina. Random bits and stories about our lives, travels, and our countries – made fun of equally – were exchanged. The conversation flowed from bullshit to insightful as the night grew deeper: from Matisyahu to Asian population and Filipino English, which somehow ended up on shared bread dipped in strawberry jam. This is a fun part when traveling: meeting strangers, and connecting with them.
The kind of connection that makes you see the world through their eyes. The more interesting part of the night for me though is when I started seeing my country – as an extension of my identity – through their eyes. As the night grew deeper, the breeze too was getting colder. And somewhere in the conversation, I started feeling like a stranger - maybe more foreign than my company of foreigners. I thought it was odd feeling that way – in my own country, needless to say. I wallowed in a thought: “being a stranger is not always being in a new place. Sometimes, it’s the company you keep that makes you feel one.” Traveling somehow makes you widen your understanding of home.
In between the dead silences of the night, everybody felt the piercing cold. We had to say goodbye to each other. Another fun part when traveling: connecting with people through fleeting greetings and goodbyes.
The next afternoon, we hung out at the same bar for lunch. It was raining outside and we had nothing much to do, but wait 'til it stops. Luckily, we found some form of entertainment to pass the afternoon by: girl bonding a la manicure y pedicure style.
It was sometime late last year (2013) when a big PDEA raid shook the peace of this rustic little town, apparently. There were a lot of theories on why that happened, but the consensus of the town is that the whole “drug raid” was blown-up and unnecessary, as it was unfounded. It was then that Sagada started getting tight on the pot trade - whatever form it came and went - if there ever was one.
Interestingly, about the same time last year, there was big news circulating in the city circle about a raid in Sagada. The news came as a shock for an activist back in the university was rumored to have been killed during an air strike initiated by the Philippine Air Force after the alleged discovery of a Communist rebel camp. This news bit is shady in all sense, but firstly, because of one simple fact: Sagada is a peace zone since 1989. A lazy rainy afternoon turned out to be more interesting than I expected. That's another fun thing: how traveling connects the dots, as equally, as it creates more questions.
That night, I didn’t sleep well. I spent all night puking my brains out – on two orifices. I’ll spare the details, but let’s leave it at: getting sick while traveling makes you miss mama’s home-cooked care. That night, I missed home.