EVANESCENCE

The room that was assigned to me was on the third floor where I was greeted by shades of green from the wilderness of Marlboro Hills, waving outside the window pane. The singing birds that I only hear in the movies were outside my window, serenading me. I have never been in a place as cold as Sagada. The doorknobs were misty from the humidity and even if it was far from raining, clouds of fog were coming out of our mouths as we talked about the things that we were excited about during our three-day trip. 

​

According to Miss Gee, our tour organizer, most tourists visit Sagada after discovering the place from the movie “That Thing Called Tadhana.” While I have heard about it before, setting foot on the damp roads of Mountain Province never crossed my mind until my former lover brought up the idea. She wanted to go to Sagada for her 30th birthday, and I wanted to go with her as my last attempt to save the relationship. Despite being my last resort, Sagada was the birthplace of my firsts. 

​

On our first night, we visited walking-distance restaurants and then bought two bottles of 1.5L Coca-Cola and two liters of Alfonso I Light. Tatay Ben warned us not to drink too much, as we were set to leave for the trailhead of Marlboro Hills by 3:30 in the morning. The next day, he told us that we would be able to reach the peak by 6 o’clock where the sea of clouds of Sagada would greet us. But Tatay Ben began guiding us to the trail with a warning, “Kapag di nagpakita si Haring Araw, walang sisimangot ha?”

​

The peak didn’t matter much to me as it was four o’clock in the morning and I was in the middle of the woods, somewhere very very far from my home in Davao City. It was my first time being that far from my hometown and all I could think of was going home in one piece. I shivered seeing the darkness of the sky cradling the woods of Marlboro Hills. The sound of small rocks falling, hikers panting, and birds chirping were taking turns along the trail. Sometimes, they sang simultaneously. When we reached the peak, instead of soaking myself with the rays of the sun, a thick cluster of clouds kissed my green hoodie. The humidity pierced my skin and caressed my back with its very low temperature. 

​

“Walang sisimangot ha?” Tatay Ben reminded us once again. I didn’t frown or smile at the sight of gray clouds entangling with the branches of the trees. I sighed as I sat on the ground, little grass poking my black leggings as I settled and stared at the absence of the sun. It wasn’t dark either. At that point, it didn’t matter that I was miles away from Davao City. I was at the peak, with or without the sunrise to greet me. 

​

It was already 2 p.m. when we left for our second destination for the day. Sumaguing Cave was almost thirty minutes away from our cabin. It was the home to ancient stalagmites and a thousand bats who heartlessly showered us with their poop—little did I know that the sticky substance would help me survive my first caving experience. Our tour guide for Sumaguing Cave, Kuya Ezra, Tatay Ben’s son, emphasized one thing before we began exploring the cave. He repeatedly told us, “Magtiwala lang kayo sa sasabihin namin, hindi namin kayo ipapahamak.” 

​

And that was what I did. When we reached the bottom of the cave, no one from our team wanted to take the first steps and climb the wet limestones to get to the other side. What could get worse if I had already sat and held tons of bat poop on the way there? What looked like shining and slippery stones ended up being one of the roughest surfaces that I have ever set foot on. I was walking on a giant sandpaper in the form of a stone. I crossed to the other side and even did a Spiderman pose for a picture. Kuya Ezra smiled at me as he stood on one of the stones, wiggled his eyebrows, and said, “Di ba?” Not only did I learn to trust the wonders of Mother Nature, but I also discovered that I was capable of taking the first steps going somewhere else—even if it meant that I had to do it by myself. 

​

On our third day, I woke up with a mild fever after I endured the coldness of the water at the cave. We were bound to visit the Hanging Coffins and Bommod-ok Falls before going back to Quezon City. Nanay Inan, the wife of Tatay Ben, was our assigned tour guide for that day. After a one-kilometer hike going down, I sat beside the railing that creates a boundary between the tourists and the coffins. Nanay requested that we talk as softly as we can to show respect to those who were laid to rest at the place. The 30-minute silence that we had at that place screamed the loudest enlightenment as Nanay Inan corrected the misconceptions about Hanging Coffins and introduced us to new information that could not be found on the internet. 

​

After meditating in the silence of the forest beside the coffins, we were set to visit Bommod-ok Falls where I did not dare to soak my body in the water for more than five minutes. Aside from the fear of getting varicose veins on my legs from the two-kilometer hike, the coldness of the water can refrigerate a canned drink. The base of the waterfall was smoking from the very low temperature. I occasionally stared at my toes under the clear water as I took photos of my ex-girlfriend. She stood near the plunge pool and I took a few steps back when the fog began consuming my eyeglasses. I sat at the stones beside the falls and fixated on the fog. If uncertainty was tangible and visible, then it would be smoke. It is deceitful from a distance. One can never know how hot or cold the smoke is unless it touches one's skin. I was glad that I touched the cold one at that time.

 

I was at the back of the Grandia van visualizing my burial while we were on our way back to Quezon City. I had a 4 a.m. flight to catch in Pasay City, but all I could think of was possibly falling off of the cliff because of the heavy rain, the serpentine road, and the absence of light posts. Why was I even in Sagada in the first place? It was my last resort for saving my relationship, but instead, it showed me who I should save first. There was so much to worry about with so little energy to think of solutions. So I just smiled and closed my eyes as the darkness reigned over the road. I sighed as I felt the driver suddenly stepping on the brakes. I dozed off not knowing whether I could go back to Davao in one piece, or I would wake up with God offering me to eat breakfast beside him.