koontz_circle

By no means in my childhood life would I imagine visiting a mystery-filled place. I hate to feel fear neither to endure a high-rate of fare for the travel. But believe me that I did, and that’s almost six years ago and it went in my mind still undead. Into a place of peculiar impression and wild-weird destination, please don’t guess, Siquijor.

During nine-day visit, we’ve attended fiesta activities from three different barrios for three sunny days. About five kilometers apart for each location, it was a ride of pleasure hunkering down the floor at the back of a cargo truck. We’re on our way to a local festival.

Feast meals were appetizing. Humba slices the size of a computer mouse, Dugo-dugo were more reddish than brown yet sticky-paste, Bam-e that appeared to have dog’s nose and ears on it, half-cooked on purpose Bola-bola with less-salt taste, Beef steak as thick as a rubber shoes sole, and Lumpia-shanghai as big as an oversized eggplant. All of those tasted good, at least on my tongue’s sensory fiber.

One night, we had this tapok-tapok talk with the natives out there. An old man stole the show, about 70 years of age with an untrimmed long beard and dirty gap-toothed, shared some stories about ghosts, spells, voodoos and some sort of horror-like claims like flying caskets in dark alleys. He seemed so serious and authentic, which, by the tone of his voice, worth believing as it trembled and full of realistic memories of what he’d been personally through, delivered right from his brain straight to his mouth. I had no reason to be skeptical about witches that night onwards. Moreover, I won’t forget the moment as spittle’s were popping out of his mouth every time he talked, with less effort. I’d laughed though I’m scared of his stories told.

The following morning, we drove by motorbike to secluded areas of the island. Narrow road towards forests, from village to village we passed two shallow rivers light vehicle can handle, including bicycle. Along the way, I’ve noticed exotic ornamental plants, herbs, trees and distinctive grasses. They’re all unfamiliar to me and made me feel I’m in Brazilian jungle (as what I’ve seen on National Geographic Channel), it became the icing of my uncultivated adventure. The place, the people and the atmosphere are so adaptive and worth living for the rest of my life. I met friends in just a short number of days; I forgot their names but not their faces. They might have those suspicious eyes only shown on Halloween primetime TV but they didn’t have those suspecting heart, they possessed, as what we ironically considered, gentle and accommodating.

I’m supposed to be trained as a clerk in a certain depot there but racked up being an easygoing tourist instead. Had I brought myself with visual devices like digital camera, could have captured the eye-catching details of everything aforementioned. I’d rather let your imagination work more this time.

If leaving hometown for school or career could break your heart to death, then leaving Larena could bring a feeling that would doubtlessly put death to your heart. My heart loves Siquijor and so do my mind.

My newly written blog is dedicated to Neil Tracy “islaw” Plando, who brings out the best in everyone.

Free your mind, write what you see and write what you feel visit us at PaYag.org - Index

For further inquiries kindly email the guilty party koontz@payag.org, koontz_circle@yahoo.com or lolek.montalbo@pmsc.com.ph

Note:
this is just an excerpt of the writer’s mind, who had an uncontrollable desire to write what’s on his mind, some are fiction and some are real. a copyrighted material, you need author’s permission before you
copy and paste this lexis. otherwise i’ll hit you down like a bug! i’m
just kidding though.. thank you.