'Love You, Mom'

Along the boatride to the islands, our boatman stopped and nonchalantly said we were low on fuel. We were in the middle of nowhere, and waking up from my trance (the sea does that to me), I panicked. For one thing, I do not know how to swim. My two kids do, though, so it was safe to assume they will rescue me if I drown. Turns out it is a normal occurence among the boats as the trip took quite long. After a few minutes of my heart pounding, the sound of the boat's engine restarting, I welcomed. 

Not long after the 'middle-of-nowhere' panic, the dolphins were in sight. Goodness seeing them in their habitat, swimming up and down the waters, was pure joy. I squealed in delight. Took a video. Then squealed again. There was something about seeing the dolphins in their natural habitat. I recalled a visit to a park where they were enclosed in glass. I flinched. Kuya Boatman brought us to a site where we can watch turtles from the boat. He suggested the kids take a dive to see the creatures clearly, and offered the gear. Of course I said no. We could see them from right we were, thank you. The kids rolled their eyes. 

We could not find a docking space (or whatever they call parking for boats) as there were many tourists in the island, mostly Koreans. The kids swam to shore, while I had to be assisted like an old woman walk through another boat in front of ours. Finding our place to sit and put our stuff was easy. Huts and sheds were scattered along the island edges. The fee asked for was expensive, though. But I needed a place to sit, smoke, and write while I wait for the kids to snorkel. The basics in the island cost an arm and a leg: bottled water and soda priced three times as regular prices. There are restrooms for which ten pesos is paid, so one can pee. Some other person thought she could do more than that, and digusted my daughter that she did not change to dry clothes anymore after their swim. The boat rental itself was expensive enough. These are such turn-offs. Local tourism will not flourish as it should if others take advantage of the beauty of these places that way. But that is another story altogether.

I sat  on this uncomfortable wooden bench, writing, while waiting for the kids. Some local women were selling the usual pearls, and trinkets to foreigners. I concluded that the foreign toursists are really shrewd. More than Filipinos. They haggled for lower prices, better than I do, actually. I usually say ok  to a fairly reasonable price for a bracelet made of cultured pearls, for example, even if I know I can get a better deal. I tell myself I am giving the locals the opportunity to earn decently. 

 The kids came to shore less than an hour after, which surprised me. They can barely be called to shore when they are swimming. It was the intense heat from above, and the cold water below, combined. It stressed them. My son also became itchy, his face and other parts of his upper body had rashes. We got ready to leave, as Kuya Boatman said the waters will be rough midday. (We set out about 6am.) We were helped board by Kuya Boatman's son, Olloy, who did not say a word during the entire trip. He just went along, did his job and assisted his father. He is about the same age as my son. His skin darkened by the constant exposure to the sun and the sea. His hair is light brown, typical of residents along shorelines. He had his father's eyes. I whispered to Aidan, 'do you have an extra tshirt you can gift him with?', to which he replied, 'all shirts I brought to the trip are gifts, Mom, sorry.' I just felt I needed to give the boy something to remember us by. Sentimental me. 

To the Balicasag Island, my daughter, Ana, was so thrilled to take in each moment that she sat by the boat's bough (?, the pointed edge), looked at the seas, then at me, and said, 'Love you, Mom.' She was so giddy and ecstatic that maybe she could not help but say the words. As for my son, well, he tells me he loves me in his own ways, in some other instances. Like touching my toes for no apparent reason. 

On the boat again on the way back to Panglao, I could taste the salt in my mouth, perhaps where my lips met the seabreeze. I poured cold water over my head, very expensive water, and put on my shawl over it to make me at less risk for heatstroke. I have heard too many horror stories about that. We alighted, thanked the father and son who helped us experience the most exciting, at the same time, poignant moments we ever had as 'kaming tatlo'. 

I looked back at the sea, in blue green waters, the sun meeting its surface, creating this glimmer so lovely. We took another 'selfie' with the sea, with its ebb and flow, cloud hovering, hanging from clear blue skies, as if saying goodbye to it for the last time.  My leg muscles ached, there was the throbbing of a migraine coming, while we walked back to the little hotel we stayed. Another major one, off the bucket list. Grateful, Lord. Truly grateful.