I loved summers in the Philippines. Tourists usually complain about the humidity and the mosquitoes because they're as big as my head (an exaggeration) and who wouldn't get annoyed getting constantly bit by those things, but I never minded all that.
One of my most vivid memories was growing up in a chocolate-painted bungalow house in my hometown San Roque.
My older sister, Dorie, made an indelible mark in my young heart one hot summer day. She was home from college and I remember she woke up vibrantly that day - her eyes gleaming with amusement and I knew right away that she was concocting something that my mother wouldn't approve of.
I remember it like it was just yesterday.
Dorie, soft-spoken as always and very articulate beguiled me into going with her to rent bicycles (we didn't own any). We rode out of town so we could get a tan. Imagine that! Back then, I didn't want to get dark so bike riding at noon was utterly insane, but older siblings are usually very compelling. And so was she! To make it short I got conned into going.
Without our parents knowing, we sneaked out of the house. Pedaling around town we were screaming with sheer joy sans worries. We pedaled for over three hours. We felt free as birds.
Our mother, on the other hand, unbeknownst to us, was worried to death that we were going to get hit by jeepney drivers or that we would get too dark from the scorching sun as it was beating down our skins. Neither of our mother's worries bothered our young spirits. We pedaled and had the best time. We guffawed and hollered and never looked back.
Without our parents knowing, we sneaked out of the house. Pedaling around town we were screaming with sheer joy sans worries. We pedaled for over three hours. We felt free as birds.
Our mother, on the other hand, unbeknownst to us, was worried to death that we were going to get hit by jeepney drivers or that we would get too dark from the scorching sun as it was beating down our skins. Neither of our mother's worries bothered our young spirits. We pedaled and had the best time. We guffawed and hollered and never looked back.
We rode back home at dusk. We were covered in sweat
and we smelled of fumes and wild flowers. In one of our rides, we discovered a field of flowers and we always
made sure we rode our bikes through that route.
As we rode back to San Roque, we used to stop
by a little shack store
along the road.
The Filipino lady who
owned it was always generous to us. She would offer
us cold beverage
to quench our thirst. My sister, having
saved up her allowance for the week,
used to buy
us this sweet delicacy wrapped in banana
leaves. It was
scrumptious and it melted in our mouths
while we
kept pedaling home – our bellies and hearts were full of contentment.
Those were memories I treasure in my heart.
