The wind wasn’t just blowing on the evening of July 14, it was HOWLING!  i had to charge the re-chargeable lamp, raise the tolda on my veranda and assemble my emergency bag in less than an hour after i realized that the storm had hit Metro Manila too instead of just the nearby areas.  And then, before 10pm, the lights went off, and stayed off for the next 30 hours.  Time to ditch the house and “slum it out” with friends who had water and electricity.  (Thank God i have an ample supply of such good friends.)

But i must confess, in the middle of this all, my thoughts went to my recently visited, and now beloved, Batanes.

Ah, Batanes… i think of you and my heart aches to return.  Such beauty.  Such rawness of nature.  Such a kind and gracious people.  How can you be so far from me?

My mind could not escape the thought of what Basyang’s winds would be like from the Batanes group of islands.  Would i shudder in fear or would i roar back and say, “Bring it on!”  Would my heart be able to stand the screaming winds and pitch-black darkness over there?  Would the roof have come off of the place where i was staying?  Part of me wanted to know the answer.  Maybe someday i will.

It took me five years to get to Batanes.  But when i finally did, i was able to take with me memories that (barring Alzheimer’s) will last me for a lifetime.

i will remember the rocks and churning waters of Chapidan Beach.  i will remember the cloud-covered lighthouse on Basco island.  i will remember sunsets right outside Bunker Cafe.  i will remember the rolling hills of (well, what else?) Rolling Hills.  i will remember the Abad’s personal chapel on top of a hill.  i will remember the simplicity of Sabtang island where their national highway was just about three meters wide.  i will remember the sheer rock face of the entire Itbayat Island.  i will remember my death-defying spelunking into Turungan Cave.  i will remember watching the boatmen catch the big Arayo fish.  i will remember eating pako salad, tipoho and fresh lobster for the very first time.  i will remember thinking to myself, “i want to come back again and again to this place where i see God almost everywhere i go.”

Basyang, you did us wrong.  You turned a kind old lady telling childrens stories into a vicious super lola.  But you somehow reminded me of the rushing winds on Basco’s Marlboro Country and i guess, just for that, i am grateful.

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