A Rush of Blood to the Head

It’s easy to be a tourist in one’s hometown. You live in a city for most of your life and you tend to take its beauty for granted. Beauty that people from the other side of the world only dream of beholding. 

Yesterday, I had a rare chance to explore a side of Cebu (the city where I was born and raised) that I never had the time nor the inclination to. The 12-hour drive through unpaved narrow roads, hairpin turns, and unremarkable highways was oddly memorable.

Our ride. Thanks to my sister.

Sleepy municipalities sandwich bustling town centers populated by locals, out-of-town dwellers, and foreign visitors. The density of people in those parts is quite surprising, especially when you factor in their remoteness (at least 3-4 hours away) from the big metropolis. But it’s a welcome surprise nonetheless. 

Pinamungajan Public Market

Stunning mountain vistas, old church buildings that survived years of neglect lending them an air of strength and a nuanced existence, unhindered views of the ocean, and streets lined with huge trees whose branches reach out as if to embrace all those who pass through. Needless to say, I used up my camera’s battery in no time. 

Church in Pinamungajan

The languid trip, however, turned into an adventure when night fell. Street lights were few and far between, the pedestrians had no qualms about walking off the sidewalks, the construction installations in the middle of the road had no signs, and the motorists were not too careful, often stopping by the wayside to load/unload cargo or to fix something broken without so much as an early warning device or the use of hazard lights or any kind of light for that matter. If not for divine protection and my friend’s quick reflexes in driving around obstacles that came out of nowhere, I can’t really tell you how we lived through the several close calls. It was straight out of a horror movie that never seemed to end.

Construction sites like this that have no signs to warn you. Imagine the danger it poses at night!

Note the pedestrians on the left side. They walk on these highways like its the safest thing they could do at night.

I thought I’d rather edit out the moments when our hearts jumped out of our chests, the utterances that were peppered with prayers, and the gasps elicited by scenes that unfolded before our eyes that could have gone horribly wrong. But all these gave that trip character. So, no. I’ll leave the editing for another day several years from now when my heart is too weak to handle the pulse-quickening rush of pure aderenaline. 

Did I say it was a memorable trip? It was definitely worth blogging about. 

Barefoot on the sand (Pebble Beach, Santander). Photo by Mike.

Blog title credit: Coldplay