For months after my departure from the gates of San Jose Parish I did not feel the urge to write down thoughts. Emotions could run high and make realities go out of bounds. I have learned in my years in this world and in the ministry that settling down a bit before one puts into legible form one’s thoughts is a laudable act.
Time which God made, and a bit of luck, presented me the chance to visit friends around the region at a very reasonable price, thanks to the budget airlines of the Philippines, Malaysia, and Singapore: Kota Kinabalu, Brunei, Kuching, Sibu, Singapore from June to August 2008, The first two weeks of September brought me back to Kota Kinabalu and Kuching; to Kota Kinabalu on the occasion of the elevation of the diocese to an archdiocese and to Kuching for the 80th birthday of the Archbishop Emeritus. I went back to Kuching mid December 2008 to fulfil a social obligation: the wedding of the son of a friend of mine. After that, on December 22, I flew down under to visit folks in New Zealand.
A SLICE OF PARADISE. I thought that I would be able to get a staggered arrival to New Zealand. I planned to move downwards to Singapore then onwards to Auckland where my cousin and family reside. But Singapore Airlines was fully booked. So I took the next best thing: fly north to Hong Kong and go south to Auckland. It was December, a time of uncertainty as to vehicular traffic and human traffic at the airport. I did not want to be in a harried mode so I went early, so early that I spent an hour and forty-five minutes waiting for the boarding to commence. But better to arrive early than to be left behind. It was a 10 hour non stop flight to Auckland from Hong Kong. I’m an obedient traveller. My cousin told me not to bother getting anything for them. They wanted me out of the airport area as soon as I could. I cleared Auckland Immigration and Customs in 45 minutes, fast for their standards, I heard. I was just asked a few questions by an Immigration Officer. I passed Customs with a breeze. Cathay Pacific arrived on time at 1pm. By 3pm I was partaking of blue cheese, brie, camembert, olives, sun dried tomatoes, and Riesling to flush them down. 730pm, after helping out in the grilling, we sat down to steak stuffed with fresh oysters, portabello mushrooms, capsicum, and courgettes. That was just the first few hours. With a full stomach, who could not sleep soundly, who could not say that down under is a slice of heaven.
My cousin’s husband took a vacation leave from December 22, 2008 to January 11, 2009. Those times I joined them in wherever and whatever activities they planned. But January 12 to 25 I was on my own. With a computer and a telephone line, and a credit card number we, my cousin’s husband and, I planned and booked my wanderings down under. New Zealand is such an organized place that I have more problems finding a street in Mandaluyong and Navotas than finding my backpackers place in Wellington, Picton, Kaikoura, Christchurch, and Greymouth. And the food and wine! Orgasmic!!!
Heaven is not that heavenly if there is no one to share it with. My New Zealand sojourn is one of the few times I experienced the downside of solo travel. The bush walks, the treks on the hillside, the walk on a beach with the roaring Pacific Ocean, the white wine and cheese, the fresh mussels cooked so very tastily, the botanical gardens with the blooms and the greens, the tours of churches, the evening at a musical – when you’re alone it gets so alone. No, I was not lonely. But somehow you need someone to share it with. And there was none. There were none because all of them had their someone. My words to people who ask me about New Zealand: as much as possible NEVER travel alone in a place where there is a slice of paradise.
THE NOW. As planned, I flew up north to go back south. January 31, 2009 I flew to Hong Kong to connect to a flight back to Manila. I passed Immigration and Customs passed midnight. February 1st I met with my folks for lunch. It was a reunion of sorts. In every place I’m assigned to I gain friends. Friends, not paramours. True friends not with strings attached. Strings are dangerous contraptions, I have learned – bikinis, aprons, laces, and lingeries. As I plan my future I’m staying with my friends. An octogenarian has offered a room with its amenities except that which induces you to sin. Another has made sure I have the nutrition for healthy living but not for sinful living. I was told in no uncertain terms that I’m allowed to enjoy a scene but never to partake in a sin. Sceneful, yes. Sinful, never. By God’s grace, and with the help of friends my board and lodging are presently provided for. My mental stimulation is also managed well, thanks to my stay in a parish in Greenmeadows, Quezon City many years back. Over lunch or coffee we exchange thoughts on relationships, celibacy, chastity, loving endurance, active silence, the joy and pain of living aging, paramours...
Ah, Navotas. Such a wonderful place. It so wonderful that I can’t afford to soil the pleasant memories I have with the events that could mar it. There is so much pleasant memories to remember. But unpleasant thoughts could bring out snippets that can smear the vista of a community eager to live their faith. Ah Navotas, the place where small acts are a source of great joy – where sacks of mussels could be delivered to the rectory, where puto pao could be shared, where squid and fish could be enjoyed in their freshness, where one’s abundance could be shared willingly and happily.
SOON. The mind is thinking, the thoughts are materializing, the hands are writing. Hopefully, the feet shall be treading another place of ministering.
