waterfall enchantress

Finally, after many years, I returned to the waterfalls located high above Davao city's northern boundary. It was a fog draped, early morning as Yong and I dropped over after hitchhiking with Lloyd who was on his way to CDO with his pretty little daughters. Soothing silence and cool, refreshing air greeted us as we took out our bags from the car trunk as cloudy mists floated hazily with the mystifying background. What a cool welcome, and I'd like to think that the enchanting waterfalls serenely awaited us. Indeed, I am back.

There were changes too, a new sign referred to a new trail down towards our white haired enchantress. However, we opted for the usual route where we had trodded in the past. The hut that guarded the old trail was still there, with the roadside fronting it now profusely littered with colorful rows of blooming ornamental plants displaying their potent prowess for catching travelers' attention.

Down towards the limestone trail we proceeded, nostalgia reminiscing me of a lone beetle that once flew ahead of our excursion group that literally led us along the trail like a self-confessed tour guide. The wayside now teemed with yawning yellow flowerettes nudged by early morning coolness. I expected quaint miracles along the way.

Barbed wires jutted coldly ahead of us, slicing through some man-made boundary in the evergreen thicket where there once was none. Vines futilely attempted to grasp at these sharp metal strings, wanting to reclaim their now bounded territory. I took my attention away from the illusionary scenes that some people call 'reality', knowing that the place would rather remind me of more lasting memory imprints of this certain space-time dimension.

The forest was growing, on a trail that I faintly remembered with the clear sky exposed directly above, now shaded us with the soothing cover of a young rainforest. Shades of ochre greens, deep earth, damp barks and long entwining vines that dared you to mimic Tarzan (or Cheetah, whatever suits) swaying from tree to tree, at your own risk. A really weird looking insect, which I surmised looked like a crooked, yellow-striped hopping hook, landed on my arm and insisted that it gets my gasping attention. There's a brown butterfly fluttering, but it still looked weird, enchantingly weird.

And there's that candy wrapper, and another empty shampoo sachet. Those are not weird, those are contemptuous. Instinctively, Yong and I took the garbage away from view. I embedded mine under root crevices hidden as tangible evidence against loitering jerks for the 'judge and jurors' in here. Grin.

Like awed witnesses we proceeded further down the mystifying trail surrounded by lush deep colors of the forest, with air refreshed by morning dewdrops dangling among drowsy leaves. A large giant fern stood magnificently nearby. Its variety existed since millions of years ago and I could imagine a roaring dinosaur springing out from the dense forest to hug me.

The enchantress whispered into our ears. Her bells of rippling crystalline waters lingered in the cool air, lulling us to tread ever closer. She surprised us, the trail towards her throne was now littered with strings of sparkling brooks and miniature waterfalls; every little nook by the corners pose like picturesque postcards. These weren't here many years ago. Amazing, she could even paint bits of landscape masterpieces, and it's live!

Gradually, her rippling crystalline song reached crescendo as we approached nearer, heaving beyond the scant palmera covering as viewed from the vantage earthy balcony. There she was, eternally washing her crystal white hair in a now widened sparkling emerald pool, more beautiful than ever.

Except for those junk food foil packs and water bottles wildly scattered on the other bank irrevelently left behind by loiterers with ugly habits of disposing their garbage. If their kind multiply too rapidly, it will be tragedy for this planet.

Yong and I decided to tour the vicinity that we so missed before taking the dive for the emerald waters. We crossed a makeshift bridge built above the falls where a scenic landscape waited for us. I took just one strawberry from the nearby field as we proceeded towards the ditch dug by Japanese soldiers during WW2. The vantage view from the ditch was a paradox mixture of beauty and the ugliness of war. There were holes where the Japs drilled to place their rifle nozzles, waiting to ambush allied soldiers. One could imagine those brave liberators emerging from the enchanting waterfalls, only to be straffed by enemy bullets.

Having enough of imaginary war adventures, we had to forcibly proceed towards the cottages strewn with all kinds of garbage before returning to the other riverbank. Too late for the Japs, the new culprits, those garbage throwers already left before they could be punished by firing squad. To cross back to our cottage we tiptoed across the large logs bridging towards the other bank, which also worked as a makeshift dam to create an artificial pool.

Bathing at the pool literally had you swimming with mineral water, for the alluring shape of the waterfalls was sculpted by centuries of mineral deposits. Its cool, rejuvenating waters seep through the skin pores, and the ripple of the falling waters massage like nature's version of jacuzzi, replete with some ergonomic tubs if you're inquisitive enough to find it.

Previously Yong planned to tour the beckoning areas further down the river. Hey, that's a good idea, I could show to him a place that looked like a strange altar. It seemed like a grotto with a cavity by a small cliff, and at the center was a large rock slab with some strange greenish ooze dripping out from the soil around it, probably caused by some mineral deposits. Yeah, and I could even find for him that weird place down the river where I had a strange experience. I once heard someone said PSSSSTT! loud enough for me to get startled, as if the source was just some feet beside me. I surmised it was my other acquaintances who were following behind me. Not until I looked back and discovered they were too far to be heard as audibly. So, let's start the trek!

Yong decreed that the plan will no longer proceed. Wha...

Anyway, there's a cave underneath the caretakers' hut. Shucks, I forgot to bring a flashlight. But not to worry, I inquired with the caretaker's boy if we could borrow flashlight from them, and he replied it was perfectly alright. I remembered that other cave some hundreds of meters from our location. Many years ago Yong and I entered that cave, and he kept ridiculing me for being jittery when a bat chased us away. I defended that unlike me, he did not see those horridly large spiders living along the crevices of the cave's very narrow and dark passageway. From its blackish, hairy tentacles jutting out of the rocks, I estimated the body of the critters could be more than 3 inches long. But this cave, I assured was different, although the last time I went there I had no flashlight. So I just randomly took pictures from a chamber that spouted some strange gurgling noise, with the camera flash. When it was developed, an image of a crystal clear spring spewing out from the stalactites appeared in the pictures. I assured Yong there weren't any spiders lurking in that cave as far as my short stint was concerned. But if there were any, I'd be glad to show it to him so he could understand why I reacted that way. So, let's go spelunkering!

Yong replied with a flat face that read: No Way.
Geez...

I guess it was time to go back to the highway. By now we went to the other trail. It was artificially manicured compared to the previous one, but the benefit was that along the way, one sees massive stonehenge-like limestone boulders that kept jutting the landscape. Then I saw a weird ladybug. Picture it like your ordinary specie (but much larger and yellow in color), except that it seemed to be wearing some kind of plastic raincoat extending over its body. I followed the creature in an attempt to take pictures with my mobile phone. With the way the lilliputan scampered, the bug was obviously irritated and tried to hide among the leaves away from its admiring intruder. That led me to its ridiculous looking neighbor, a very large but fragile looking longleg spider, which I suspect stared at me with a quizzical look.

I will have to leave them, but a dark brown, tiny juvenile snake stoically poised on a large rock by the trail interrupted our hike. Its immobile posture was deceptive, for it was posed to strike at any trekker who dared come too close for its comfort. I threw some pebbles just enough to startle it and go scamper somewhere else, but the creature remained adamant, not moving even a single beat. I had to leave that snake too, but it should be smart enough not to hurt anybody even while protecting its territory. If it really had to, at least may it choose to kiss those garbage throwers.

We're now back at the highway. Fortunately there weren't any buses around yet, so I challenged Yong that we go hike further down, who grudgingly obliged. Only the cool air and soothing silence of the hills played like music to my ears. I tried to look for the exact place where I once witnessed the skeletal remains of a salvage victim. But it seemed vague now, overcome by the insistence that life goes on in this beautiful place. It was that experience that led me to discover the enchanting waterfalls.

The awesome landscape of the wide Arakan Valley ethereally remained with the distinct character of the soothing place. Above it, a magnificent brahminy kite soared over its kingdom. I told Yong I'll make it come nearer, jokingly. Or was I?

Minutes later the magnificent bird hovered very near for our amazement. I could see its healthy brown plumage spread proudly and nobly with the background of sun rays. It looked at me, and our eyes met.

speaking of barbarians...

Speaking of barbarians...hmm...I did some research, and chances are if you're Pinoy na Spanish tisoy, your great great grandfather (makes you "apo below sa tuhod") may be a terrible invader of, what else but the magnificent, mighty, ancient city of Rome. They were known as the Visigoths.

This dreadful, hideous, wandering tribe entered the formidable walls of the great city between the years 408-410 AD. The horrible "barbarians" pillaged and looted the once mighty capital of its wealth and splendour. According to ancient Roman historians, that was. But heck, the credibility of some of the paid hacks may as well be compared to the puppet corporate media of today that duped you to non-existent WMD's for the oil blessings war. At least though, they didn't mention much about raping and grudgingly admitted that the 'barbarians' murdered just a little bit.

Obviously, history classes at school didn't mention everything either. The root of the historical conflict may be probed due to the corrupt and unreliable Roman leaders of that time. For many years the Visigoths waited for the promise of Rome to give them land in exchange for the service of fighting against a common barbaric enemy, the Huns. But corruption, prejudice and the unfulfilled promise caused much resentment among the Visigoths who finally threatened to lay siege to Rome. The Visigoth king, Alaric I, an admirer of the city's magnificence, made ways to avoid destroying it by agreeing to withdraw upon payments of gold and silver. When the exiled emperor, Honorius, refused to sign the treaty, Alaric I demanded the surrender of Rome and the terrified inhabitants opened its gates (courtesy of Visigoth 'slaves'). He then appointed another emperor for Rome, but the bloke ruled so badly. Amazingly, Alaric I decided to restore Honorius, but the emperor's barbarian chief treacherously attacked Alaric, which proved unsuccesful. The angered Visigoth King finally laid siege to Rome, and, after the previously botched attempt at appointing another individual, crowned himself and sat at the emperor's throne (parang si Bonifacio).

Curiously, Alaric I made clear his command to spare the Christian churches. Modern historians theorize that the Visigoths may not necessarily be 'barbarians' as the olden Roman historians wanted people to believe, but rather that they may be a Christianized tribe that had to deal with the decaying and corrupt Roman Empire.

Eventually, the Visigoths proceeded westwards and created a powerful Kingdom with boundaries that stretched into what are now the modern regions of France, and, the home of the country's colonizers, Spain.

that reminds me of...

Now, the 'entrenchment' reminds me of another ridiculous scenario that occured some years back with the commemoration of a National Artist through a sculpture. He was an excellent writer, his works immortalized the classic facets of Filipino soul. As prolific as he was in writing, so did he at drinking. None of those who witnessed a drizzle of his brilliance could ever immortalize the figure without him holding that Beer, which, undisputably, also established itself as an institution to this country's identity as the writer himself had in the literary field. It seemed, that Beer brewed itself with a weird concoction hidden somewhere in the molecules of its imported malts and hops that brought his passionate, creative genius frothing to the brim.

So, another writer-friend of his, from Davao, equally eloquent in her prowess with written words like 'waling-waling' spoken in English, decided to immortalize him by having a sculptor mold a figure of the man, surely holding that patronized Beer. It shall be unveiled to coincide with the oath taking of our group's new batch of officers. I remembered when she brought the preliminary sketches of the sculpture with her during the meeting for us to probe upon (don't you think the arm was a bit eskewed?...agh, no, don't make him step on a book). It would be the country's first sculpture of him, and it will be erected in her resort compound in Davao City. She said she will be going with this noble purpose, where else but of course, to the office of that beer company to request for sponsorship or even for a little bit of donation from the super-rich multinational giant with subsidiaries and branches in China, Australia, etcetera that anybody in this archipelago could be proud of. We warmly anticipated the fulfilment of her project, a sculpture of the National Artist holding the 'national beer', sponsored, what else, by that company. Gwapo.

Finally, the anticipated time came the next meeting as she announced the result of her long travel south to the city outskirts, where the company's office was. So? The person in charge turned down the request. What? They turned down the offer. Unsa?? They're 'broke', they guzzled out much funding for the Oktoberfest (and dancing sexy ladies, I noticed).

Anybody could bet the guy sitting behind that desk had no iota about who the National Artist was, nor heard about the well admired female, young-at-heart writer in front of him, and that 'anybody' could even win! Where did the likes of these individuals place a portion of their critical gray matter that should otherwise enable them to discern such nobility? Inside their belly? We in this country must be warned, the next time we sit on the water closet, some might flush out that priceless portion of their brain, forever. Pangit!

Please, tell the news that might spare the utter destruction of this culturally clueless, soulfully malnourished, art unappreciative, barbaric capitalist colony by the hands of more civilized invaders like the fate of ancient Carthage, quick. Fortunately the rival beer company saved the day and offered sponsorship. Just as that Beer was renowned in itself, so is this beer renowned for imitating it. Intawon, maayo na lang.

It is election season in this country, and since the place I'm in did not proceed in seceding into a separate republic, one will have to put up with the election circus and some clowns, Wowowee, Michael Meiring, entrenched idiots, and, not to be outdone, entrenched barbarians.

"entrenched idiots"

Yesterday, while riding on a ubiquitous public utility jeepney, I heard the conversation among its passengers, between mothers cuddling their kids. The topic centered about a certain school along the Matina area in Davao City. It used to specialize on gifted students; A painter I once knew actually graduated there. It had been closed now, rumors say that the school was unable to pay the land rent.

That was not the main shocker. A mother further lamented about the experience her acquaintance had of her poor kid with that institution. The child, along with many others, took the examination that will decide the coveted entrance to the (once) prestigious school. Unfortunately, the child did not pass. To the mother's disbelief, another pupil, a child of her acquaintance, did pass the supposed exam. The gross issue was, her child did not even take the test! When the mother inquired about the sacrilegeous 'miracle', her alecky acquaintance merely hinted about her influential connection from inside the school staff. Argh.

If the unforunate child had been victimized by such adults with the gallbladder to be entrenched on those seats of authority, far more unfortunate will be a culturally deprived nation infiltrated, as aptly described by a website I once read, with such "entrenched idiots."

Must Blog

I must do this. The ideas, the pent-ups, the angst, the marvel at observing what surrounds me, the visions keep zinging on my head and throbbing in my heart and I must seek the hazy crevice that will spew forth these bits from the inside. Then I will create a tangible piece, contribute a parcel to the outside dimension and patch out the illusions that we sometimes deplorably call as 'reality'.

From my vision, I must create 'reality', and I will.

Now I have my blog with me (thanks to the computer geeks who invented it).