Wednesday, April 11, 2012

A WALK IN THE PLAZA AND RAIN RULES ON THE ISLAND OF NEGROS


This was written prior to the kids arriving and although not very current, I still thought it worthy of posting.  Daryl…



It has been raining for the past three days here on Negros Island. The mornings will start out partly to mostly cloudy and if you have errands to run, that is the time to do them, but by noon, the clouds darken and the rain returns.  Yesterday, it rained throughout the night and this afternoon, it was raining elephants and giraffes.  I actually had to shut the windows to protect my television and computer from getting bathed in the sheets of rain that was determined to cleanse anything exposed to its windswept deluge.  It is usually dry this time of year and the rainy (wet) season doesn’t begin until late May, but what we are being blessed with is a very slow moving tropical disturbance to our south.  What makes this weather more exciting is that there is another tropical disturbance to the east just waiting to take disturbance number one’s place.  Such is life in the Philippines.  A few days ago, the nights were quiet (if you discounted the dogs and roosters), but last night the air was filled with the croaking of THOUSANDS of frogs, all eager and ready to procreate. 

I know it has been awhile since I have posted anything.  It’s not that I haven’t had anything to submit, it is just the fact that I have been procrastinating.  The adopted kids are coming here in a few days and I have been busy preparing for their arrival.  I have purchased a huge bunk bed, a cabinet for clothes, storage containers for more clothes to shove under the bed, pillows and fabric for the cushions for the couch and chair being made.   Still, I need to purchase a few more pots and pans, more dinnerware (two plates won’t work with six people), and bowls.  In some ways I am very nervous.  It has been approximately nine months of solitude in my two bedroom sanctuary, but in a few short days, it will be overcrowded with a handful of kids running around…not to mention eating me out of house and home.  There are moments when I ponder the noise and needed attention they will require, yet I also know their quality of life will vastly improve from now on.   I have been waiting months for this to transpire and, in a way, I am very excited. Clarisse (the oldest one) texts me every day to tell me how many days remain until they come here and was overjoyed to read I was going to meet them at the ferry in San Carlos.  When that day comes, I will put pictures in the blog for everyone to see. 
 
There is a festival starting in Himamaylan.  I don’t know the name of it yet as it really doesn’t start for another two weeks, but the plaza has been busy with games of chance, food concessions, and vendors along the street selling assorted items. Each evening there are basketball tournaments and it is interesting to see how many men in their 40’s and 50’s were out there bouncing the ball across the court.  


I have to the festival three times since it began taking pictures, then sitting back and watching the activity.  I get quite a few stares from the many browsers or spectators.  Even had one lady in her thirties stop (with young child in hand) to ask if I was married and gave me a disappointed expression when I told her I was.   


It was too dark my first night visiting, so a couple of nights later I decided to attempt pictures before it got too dark. On my way there, I passed a couple elementary school children.  The girl called me “Lolo”, which meant Grandpa.  I took their picture, waved, then moved on toward my photo assignment.   I walked past the vending stands, taking pics as I strolled, then it was into the plaza itself.  It was still rather early and the gaming activity was very light, but still I got some photos of them and also the several food stands that lined the walkways.  A basketball game was in progress and I got a few photos of them as well as some of the spectators at courtside.  I purchased a hotcake (nothing remotely similar to the states) and finding a bench, I sat and again watched the people pass or visit as the youngsters ran between feet and around the plaza enjoying the festive freedom of the evening.  

As the twilight was transformed into darkness, I finished my “snack” and decided to head home. I walked up the steps out of the plaza and started walking past the vendors when I heard a little voice call out, “Daddy Cano!  Daddy Cano!”  along with the pitter patter of running feet.  Suddenly a tiny pair of arms wrapped themselves tightly around my legs as an excited girl thought she had found her papa.  I laughed, bent over and gave her a little hug back as mama grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away.  I got out my camera and took a picture of her.  She had a toy camera and took a pretend picture of me too.   I waved good-bye to the little preschooler as her mama walked her up the street.  It’s funny how a little episode such as that can melt your heart. I never did find out her name.  But that wasn’t the end.  As I walked down a quiet side street, I passed a group watching their father or brother or someone working on a trike when again, a four year old girl called me “Tatay” (papa in Illongo).  I smiled, took her picture, and moved quickly on.  I was now getting gun shy with all those “fatherly” names.  I would like to make it clear that I had never met any of those kids or parent (s) before that evening.   Except for a week’s visit to Negros in February 2011, I had never been to Negros before and Donarae will attest to the fact that I am incapable of bearing children anymore. 



The other morning I was heading to Bacolod on the motorbike to get groceries.  The air was refreshingly cool, albeit humid and that tepid chill as well as muggy conditions, combined with diesel exhaust hanging in the air triggered memories of my childhood and one occasion as a young adult.  As a youngster, in the early spring mornings the aroma would assault my nostrils.  It wasn’t unpleasant, but noticeable all the same.  On another occasion along the coastline of Virginia in early spring (as a young adult), I breathed in that unique air once again.  Years ago I couldn’t pinpoint the source of the odor, but now in Philippines, I concluded it had to do with the temperature, humidity, and amount of diesel exhaust in the air.  It was a mixture of sweet and yet sour fragrances.  To think it took over forty years to experience that smell again just went to show at how something that may have been insignificant to me at the time, was noted and filed in my brain.  There was nothing particularly memorable about those sniffings decades ago, but the aroma memory still lingered.  Let’s face it, the human brain is a fascinating computer.



The next blog will be about the kids coming and then how it has changed my life….and it has.  By the way, for the better.

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