Imagine this:
12 young adults lugging packs 1/3 their weight, half-groggy; most of them rubbing their eyes from the sleep that’s threatening to overtake them completely; all of them yearning for a sense of adventure that one does not normally come across with sitting behind tables or hiding behind textbooks.
12 strangers-turned-friends scurrying to find their seats in the bus 12 minutes shy of 1 as they gear up to celebrate the Valentine’s weekend the best way they know how: going far, far away.
Imagine this:
Waking up to the harsh downpour: on the bus, after a nap, the next day. Two days of gloominess and warring elements. The wind strong enough to cut, the rain hard enough to drench even the most waterproofed of stuff.
The weather cold enough to create a cacophony of chattering teeth, the waves loud enough that only the sharpest ear can hear the whispers of “Closer!” as people huddle together in hopes to share the heat.
Imagine this:
Trails that go for hours on end, and mossy rocks complimenting steep assaults. Thorny branches with thorny leaves that appear as though they exist solely to leave their marks on you — your face, your palms, your feet.
Imagine this:
Arriving on an island and seeing the shore as it is met with 6 foot waves. White foam on the edges, aqua-coloured magic on the corners. Waves big enough to engulf a person, waves big enough to create rock formations.
Imagine being told that the only way to get out of the water is to go through it.
Imagine this:
A flat tire in the edge of the woods, amongst hastily built homes and budding papaya trees.
Imagine this:
A boat ride of epic weather proportions. Goosebumps lining your skin for hours on end as you sit on the edge of the boat, your feet dangling in the sea, the waves rocking you not-so-gently, your hair never getting the chance to dry because of the continuous rain, your knuckles white from gripping the bamboo lining the boat, your lips blue from the cold, your skin a shade darker, your behind numb from the sitting, your eyes focusing on the view, your stomach stopping itself from churning, your brain telling your heart to calm down.
Imagine riding through wave after wave, 12 (and more) of you, roughing the seas like pirates, only unlike pirates, your vessel is a fisherman’s boat with only enough space for reclining.
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But also, imagine this:
Buffets in the middle of the pouring rain — of ratatouille and roasted chicken, of sandwiches and eggs benedicts. Buffets prepared by shaking hands, over laughter, and music, and a general sense of tiredness.
A game of two truths and a lie, and two lies and a truth, and hysterical conversations about childhoods, escapades, fears, romances, life.
Imagine passing along a bottle of rum as you witness the fireflies — the only creatures braving the cold. Maybe they don’t feel the cold the same way we do. Imagine having the rum fill you up and inflame your cheeks, the fiery drink giving you liquid courage both to talk about outrageous “Would you rathers” and serious politics.
Imagine rock climbing and cliff diving, and cliff climbing and rock diving, and precariously hanging off of rocks with the waves threatening to devour you. Imagine being scared. Imagine being excited. Imagine being alive.
Imagine coming up for air. Imagine having to do it many, many times. While swimming, while laughing, as you scramble to the surface of the water after jumping, as you clamber up the boat that will bring you home, as you breathlessly gaze at the beauty of it all — the rivers, the rainforests, the waterfalls, the islands, the people, the beach.
Imagine the spontaneity that comes with having no plans, and thinking about no deadlines. Of knocking on the door of Caucasian surfers for the privilege to shower after two full days of hiking and swimming. Of arriving at your doorstep at 3 in the morning, knowing fully well that you’d have to be up again (to work, or study, or both) in a couple hours.
Imagine yourself wet to the core, your pack heavier than usual because of the rain.
And then imagine yourself realizing that with all the cold, and the wet, and the general gloomy weather, your spirits weren’t dampened.
In fact, your spirits have just been raised.
Imagine all that, and you’ve imagined my weekend.
*Very few photos, both from me and John Sanchez, mostly because it was raining, but also because there’s a lot of effort keeping the place away from commercialization, and so the fewer photos posted, the better. Haha. Hope you all had a Happy Valentine’s!
Of perpetual finds 