The Sentimental Tourist

By: Vanessa Velasco

 

Sunrise.

 

I have often watched its magnificence. The most memorable of sunrises I have ever experienced is in Dumaguete City. I would wake up before dawn to await its coming by the seashore, when the world is still dark and quiet, and when the only sounds you hear are the quiet beat of the ocean waves blending with the rhythm of the fishermen’s paddles on its waters.

 

 

Soon, the sky grows brighter. A soft golden glow emerges at the other end of the horizon. The melodies of birds start to accompany the rhythm of the waters. Then comes the sunrise.

 

As I behold its beauty, within me grows an expectant spirit of what the day will bring. The vivid color of the town as I walk its street. The music of the forests in the outskirts of the city. The taste of the native delicacies waiting to be discovered. The smiles and laughter I am about to share with the city’s people.

 

The sun is up. My journey has started.

 

 

 

Revisiting A Past

 

Dumaguete City seems to be like one large university campus. Walking down its streets, one can notice the tall acacia trees arching above the main roads, forming an umbrella-like canopy. The culture of Silliman and three other universities have spilled over the small city, giving it the academic atmosphere that would have earned its reputation as the Philippines’ University Town.

 

College students are everywhere — striding on the sidewalks in maong pants, carrying algebra and history books. Others engrossed in a group study in the many cafeterias that are sporadically scattered around the city.

 

 

It reminds me of my college days. The long walks I took along the Diliman campus after the rain, where the scent of freshly cut grass mingles with the dews on leaves of the trees. Reading my textbooks beneath acacia trees while watching a group of students play soccer on the sunken garden. Group studies at the main library in the middle of the campus, followed by heated debates over coffee and crackers. Singing and guitar music with my barkada late at night at the foot of the oblation. Late evening talks with my roommates. Star gazing at night.

 

These were some of the most memorable years of my life. When all I had to think about were my lessons in school. Reports. Projects. Term Papers. Life was so simple then. And in looking at the students who trudged the Silliman sidewalks, I feel I was transported back into the past I’ve always wanted to revisit.

 

 

 

Collecting Souvenirs

 

I used to have a hobby of collecting souvenirs. In my room, I have a collection of pine cones from Baguio, a bag of white sand from Boracay, a sea shell from Panglao, a rock from Ilocos Norte. Several of them have already gathered dust.

 

But more than the souvenirs are the memories they evoke as one gazes upon them. Moments cherished during a particular time at a particular place.

 

But during my trip to Dumaguete City, I did not take any souvenirs with me — but inadvertently did exactly the opposite: I left something precious to me, which may now be considered as a hidden treasure in the waters of Bais Bay.

 

 

It happened while we were out in the open water, “in the middle of nowhere” as we fondly called the experience — looking for whales and dolphins in the middle of Bais Bay. The waves were friendly to us adventurers that day, giving but a gentle rock to the pump boat we were on. Some meters away from the boat, we saw around thirty dolphins playfully displaying their water antics. 

 

As I tried taking their picture, through my Palm Zire 71, the waves gave the pump boat a very mild sway. It sent my Zire down into the ocean — my precious! There goes my schedule, my Documents-To-Go and my pictures! I guess my Zire found its place among the sunken treasures of Bais Bay. So, I bought myself a new and better digital camera to replace the sunken Zire.

 

And while I still collect stones and shells and sand from my travels, I have learned to preserve moments that cannot be aptly captured by tangible souvenirs. I have learned to capture the beauty of the sunrise. Or the sparkle of the waters at sea. The solitary silhouette of a fisherman at the break of dawn. The smiles of strangers. It was then that I have begun my collection of intangible souvenirs.

 

 

 

The Poetry and Adventure of Nature

 

The most memorable of my intangible souvenirs during my Dumaguete trip are images of the Twin Lakes. There on top of the mountains of Sibulan, after the long trip on rough roads, we found the lakes.

 

Their waters were emerald green, the surrounding forests, a deep jade. And the sky above, a light sapphire with brushstrokes of flowing white clouds. Boating across the first lake, Balinsasayao, we beheld every sight and sound that our senses could take. Upon reaching the other side of the lake, we had to climb up a steep hill to see its twin, Danao Lake.

 

That is when the adventure began. The uphill climb was relatively easy — that is, for the ones who do not lack enough exercise. It was the downhill trod that posed as the harder challenge. Most members of our group stopped upon reaching the pinnacle, but the more adventurous ones dared go down the other side of the ridge towards Danao. I was one of the adventurers who reached the second lake.

 

Thought it did not possess the enchantment and poetry of Balinsasayao, it offered the excitement and adventure that was not found in its larger twin. The feel of its refreshing waters on my feet was a sort of reward for braving the slippery slopes we conquered. 

 

Even when we were back in the city, the images of the lakes kept on haunting me. I knew in my heart that I will again find myself waking up at dawn, seeking both the poetry and adventure that I have experienced with the lakes.

 

 

 

The Real Journey

 

And so my real journey begins.

 

It is not the usual trip that satisfies most travelers, with their usual guide maps, travel brochures or “travel-light” bags. It is not just a tour of a place where I become part of a culture I have never experienced, when I feel an affinity with people whom I have seen for the first time, when I share the laughter with strangers, and feel homesick for a town that was never my home.

 

It is more than falling in love with a place and a culture. More than beholding the fog-covered caps of a dormant volcano, or enjoying the touches of the fine white sands of a tropical paradise. It is more of a journey that I embark on everyday — the search for meaning and significance in the places I visit, the people I see, the emotions I feel and the memories I take with me.

 

More than the physical travel, it is the journey of the heart that determines whether I share my experiences in a cardboard-cut travel guide or in moving palettes of natural wonder and the vibrant joie de vivre found in relationships.

 

So, whether I sail the waters of Bais Bay, or find myself trekking on the mountains of Talinis, or simply cruising through Metro Manila’s traffic, I find myself on a journey. One that fills my waking moments and my sleepless dreams. One that connects me to my past and, possibly, my future.

 

My journey doesn’t start with a plane ticket or a passport. It starts with every sunrise. Each time I see the first rays of sunlight breaking through the silent darkness that heralds the dawn of a new day — be it in the middle of the sea, or on top of a mountain, or in the middle of the city — I know that there is always poetic beauty waiting to be discovered, and an adventure waiting to happen.

 

That is when my real journey begins.