It has been raining the past few nights. A nice soft rain trickling off the corrugated roofing and splattering on the pebble covered earth below. If the rain increases, puddles form within those infant stones and the soothing sound of droplets breaking the water’s surface can be heard as a rain cleansed breeze lightly filters its way into your drowsy senses. On the main island of Luzon, the dry season has begun; but in the Visayas, the showers never seem to disappear. It is not that we endure a monsoon season all year, but we don’t lack precipitation either. Most times, it will be a cleansing shower in the afternoon, followed by a spectacular sunset. The day ends in a very pleasant evening with star filled skies and sleep inducing air wafting its way through open bedroom window.
Since returning home, it has been quiet. I went to Bacolod yesterday, ate at KFC
(saved $1.50 with my senior discount), went to the movie (The Grey), and bought
some groceries at the supermarket. I
have a pair of athletic shoes which I named my “water shoes”; that was due to
the fact whenever I wore them, it rained.
True to their name, I was precipitated upon on the way up as well as on
the way back yesterday. I spent time
under canopies on the way up in an attempt to keep myself relatively dry, but
on the way home, I let nature take its course and ended up being saturated from
head to toe.
On the way up to Bacolod, there had been a detour at Bago
City, but the northbound traffic could now go on the dirt portion of the main
road. Right next to that puddle pocked passage
was the new concrete replacement AND upon that pavement were motorbikes going
the opposite direction. On my return
south I decided to skirt around the detour signs and take advantage of the new
road. The pavement was about twelve
inches above the dirt and somebody had piled old pieces of asphalt there to
help the bikers to get up and onto the smooth surface. Unfortunately, as I tried to power my way up
onto the road, the bike got stuck. It
was too heavy to make the last leap up and onto the new lane. I backed down the pile of rubble and tried
twice more, but the underpowered baby of a motorbike couldn’t do it. I was sure it was the wet surface, or the
bike was too heavy or the strapped down groceries on back was the cause…..never
once did I consider the fact that my physical enormity might be the reason All that time during my struggles, there
 |
| The hump after dirt was laid |
was
a Videoke stand nearby with a group of women talking. Of course, they saw me
struggling to get my motorbike onto the new pavement and started pointing and
laughing. In the meantime, I stood up and as Ipopped the clutch I lifted up on
the handlebars. The extra Oomph from my
arms and legs (not to mention getting my acre sized arse off the seat) enabled
the two wheeled cycle to clamber up the unstable asphalt pile and onto steady
ground once again. Now, the construction
company had put sizeable rocks upon the pavement to dissuade people from
driving on it, but so many motorbikes had traversed its stone strewn surface
you only had to follow the tire tracks to be able to wend your way through the labyrinth.
AND, as I passed that store, the women
continued to laugh at my poor “motorbikes” expense.
 |
| Umbrellas - Every Filipina must have one for sun and rain |
I have to stress that when driving any form of vehicles in
the Philippines, it does not allow for sightseeing of any kind, but over the
many trips around the countryside, there were certain things that never
changed. Workers tended to their rice
fields as well as laborers continued to chop down sugarcane in the rain. Umbrellas were everywhere and used in the
rain as well as during sunny days. You even saw them being used on slowing
moving motorbikes. I was given one for
Christmas by the owner of the compound, but it was still sitting in a corner
within its plastic wrapper. Real men
don’t use umbrellas....
Every morning at 5:10 am, Our Lady of the Snow Catholic
Church would play recorded music on its loud speakers. I realized it was to get the parishioners up
for the 6:00 am mass. The music would
play for about twenty minutes and then quit.
On Sunday mornings, it played a lot longer. The speakers were loud and even though I
lived over a half kilometer from the church, those metallic chimes were quite
clear. One morning as I lay in bed
listening to the hymns, the arrangements changed and suddenly I was listening
to “Silent Night”. It was followed by
“Oh Holy Night”. That continued on for
three more festive tunes until someone shut off the system in mid song. No more music was played that day. 
I have discovered the Filipinos will grow wherever there is
land available. Case in point, there was
a narrow stretch of ground between a roadway and rice field just north of my
compound and some people had decided to tear out the Carabao grass and replace
it with Alogbate (Malabar Spinach) and Tinangkong (Swamp Cabbage) plants. At first I was surprised, but then was
intrigued. In other parts of the
Philippines, there would’ve been those who would have illegally picked the
vegetables in the dark of night, but not in this part of Negros. I have
constantly been astounded by the honesty exhibited here. People may still have high walls and lock
their doors, but then you see vehicles left out overnight with their windows
open or gardens, such as that, unprotected in the darkness and you somehow feel
safer. In parts of the Philippines to
feel safe at all is something of a miracle at times.
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