On Climbing Boulders, Swimming with Whale Sharks, and Forging new Friendships

A respected mentor once told me that if I have to choose between travelling and acquiring new things, I should choose travelling. For her, there is a number of learning one would get from travelling that it is just a waste to buy gadgets or clothes or, in my case, books. Being a nerd, I vehemently disagreed with her. I was the kind of person who wins the Certified Bookworm Award. (Mind you, such award exists in my previous job, given to the employee who has read the most number of required readings. So nerdy, isn’t it?) I argued that one must invest in oneself and reading is a proactive way of preparing oneself with enough ammunition to face the world. Literacy levels are declining and we must fight it with all our might! hehe!

My friends would come to me for advice, and like a doctor, I’d whip out my book inventory (in excel file complete with pivot tables, drop down lists, and ratio of read vs. unread) and select which book to recommend, as if reading the book would actually solve their problem.

Don’t get me wrong. I also love to travel - I even go on backpacking trips with my close friend but suffice to say that I have been to more places this last 2 months than in the past 2 years. And from what I have seen, it made me wonder if writers can inspire such awe in me if I were reading about it as opposed to experiencing it for myself. What words should a writer use to marvel at the beauty of the world and properly convey the brilliance of its Creator?

Like how would a writer describe in a book the experience of swimming with the whale sharks in Donsol? What would she write to conjure in the reader’s head the exact feeling of being near enough to touch the whale sharks but choosing not to because you wanted to respect their space and your presence might drive them away?


Or of seeing a whale shark’s eye move towards you as you swim beside him? It seemed as if for a brief moment you were eye to eye. You were so amazed that you gasped and quite naturally, water filled your mouth. You had to lift your head off the water and cough. When you dipped your head again, he was farther ahead – you weren’t able to catch up anymore.

Or the thrill of your first jump into the open sea without a life vest on? You were debating whether to go back up the boat or race after the whale shark. The fins felt so heavy that you wanted to kick them off but realized that if you relaxed, you could swim faster.

Or of swimming above the whale shark and slowing down so you would see his entire length? All the time you were thinking how suave he swims, how quietly he cuts through the water, how big his mouth is that you could almost fit! You are enticed with the prospect of quitting your job and devoting your life to keeping them safe, but for practicality reasons, you had to drag yourself back to work come Monday.

Or of the sound of the boat’s engine slicing through the silence of the night in Donsol river; the moon and the fireflies your only illumination? You wanted to cup a firefly in your hand but was afraid to kill it.

 Or of going to a cove in Zambales that doesn’t have the distractions of electricity and technology… and for which you would have to rely on the stars, the sand, the trees, the wind, the water on your feet, the mountain, the rocks to be entertained? With the night sky as your roof, you forged precious moments with new friends that less than a month later you were all off again on your next trip, as if you know each other for years.

Or of trekking up the mountain and grasping anything you can grasp to prevent skidding? You were trying very hard not to demand for more water breaks because doing so would prolong your wait to see the summit. Or of feeling the wind on your face when you finally reached the clearing, as if you too have wings? Or of climbing boulders to reach the Rockies knowing full well that one wrong step and you might end up swimming with the shrimps in Taal Lake? On your way up you readily gave your full confidence to the Lead Man. He knows where he’s going and if you’d only follow him, he’d lead you to a place where the view is more than enough to compensate for your aching muscles and your ripped pants that provided a different kind of view, much to your humiliation.

Yes, you fall down, you had scrapes on your knees and cuts all over your legs but you stand up determined to do better on your next climb because really, that’s what life is all about, right? You stumble and fall but you still get up and trust that your friends are there to cheer you on as you reach the top.

The point is we are racing against time. Things change. People grow up. Circumstance might force you to move abroad or have different priorities. My grandfather, my oldest and “bestest” friend ever, is battling with cancer and he made me realize that life is so volatile that I just can’t afford to spend every lazy weekend within my comfort zone. A day might come when the whale sharks would leave Donsol or the cove would have electricity making it impossible to see the stars at night and the only view you would see up Mt. Maculot are the vandals all over the rocks. Maybe by then, books and imagination would surpass the actual experience.

Sometimes where you are heading takes a backseat to the process of getting there. And when you come back, you are never the same person. The same can be said in reading a book. It can change you. But reading a book is a solitary activity; while travelling – well, isn’t more fun to find your mailbox flooded with silly, ordinary things from your new friends?

3/27/09

(post note: 2 days after writing this, my granddad passed away. Eternal rest be granted unto him, O Lord...)