..which brings me to this very unlikely but perfect choice of spending the previous christmas season away from home to compensate for the lack of that right time I have been insofar, waiting for. December 24, 2015 was the fateful date, just a few days after a hell of a sem. From the restful foot of Mt. Makiling where I’ve been thriving for a good eight years now, I opted to go southward and explore the other far end of the island of Luzon rather than directing northward and spend the holidays abode, like I’ve been doing for the last seven years.
As liberating as this may sound, the challenge is very much real from finding a seat off a bus (read: christmas) to enduring the ride itself with an inconsiderate seatmate on a nonstop puff throughout the ride. Then there was that almost tragic crash against a reckless trailer truck somewhere in Quezon’s forested roads. But the entire bus ride wasn’t bad that much; the ratio of pleasure to misery was still greater than one. I remember waking up at twelve midnight off a deep nap then greeting my other seatmate a merry christmas; and then falling asleep again before waking just in time to have a glimpse of the famed Mt. Mayon in orange outlines; before finally taking that long rural stretch to the first stop: Sorsogon.