Nothing could have been a more fitting end to our vacation.
Norie, Kang, Aleihs, her uncle, Mang Ben and I stood there by the brick ruins of the still functioning Cape Boujeador Lighthouse in Burgos, Ilocos Norte. All of us were staring at the sun setting at the South China Sea. Each face was marked with awe, rapture and amazement at how beautiful a good-bye can be.
Everyone was silent, keeping to their thoughts. Except for Mang Ben, the caretaker of the lighthouse, who must have seen sunsets more spectacular than what we were seeing. Yet his words must have captured what was in our hearts then.
“This day will never come back. Tomorrow is another day.”
“Only God can make a sunset. Man can never do that.”
Cliché it may be, yet each sentence rang true and cut deep. Especially for that day where everything we experienced, as Kang appropriately summarized, was “better that what I expected, imagined or hoped for.”
* * * *
Everytime we went to a place, the three of us vacationers would go, “wow! Wow! Ang ganda. We’re here. Picture!” It may seem to be just a photo-ops for us (especially for me, where I used up two rolls of film in three days), but everything was absorbed fully and appreciated truly.
The only thing that was for sure in our itinerary that day was Pagudpod. We had to see the place that seemed to be the favorite location of Siguon-Reyna films (Selya, Ligaya at Hihintayin kita sa Langit). Pagudpod was beautiful, not as spectacular as Boracay or as alive as Puerto Galera, but it had a certain unexplainable beauty especially with the absence of tourists (it was a Monday) and we had it to ourselves.
Before we had lunch, I scoured the beach for shells. Collecting shells is a ritual I have every time I am in a beach and much to my delight, the shore was littered with them. But it was a test of patience since they were so small you might mistake them for sand. If you look much closer, you would realize that Pagudpod sand were actually miniscule shells!
The beach itself is not friendly to those who are not capable of swimming since it was already shoulder-deep just a meter away from the tide line. But the water was of comfortable temperature, making it a pleasurable dip. And the shelly sand was a welcome (and cheap) substitute for a foot scrub.
It was just a 30-minute dip for me, as I had to dry off half an hour before departure because I did not bring any change of clothes. A pretty smart move (hah!). But it was enough to say that “I have swam in Pagudpod!”
* * * *
Aleihs wanted us to see Agua Grande or Dakel a Danum in Ilocano. It was after the seven (?) kilometer Patapatan Bridge. From the bridge, we would be able to see the tip of the Philippines (or one of them, at least). We were more than happy to take a look at the place.
When we got there, we just had to ask Uncle Marlon to stop and allow us to take a picture of the bridge, the sea and the man-made waterfalls. The bridge snaked its way by the side of the mountain, with some parts of it destroyed by the “Jolina” storm, which made bridge look all the more interesting and historical.
Finally, at the end of the bridge was Agua Grande. Dakel a Danum was where the waterfalls met with the raging sea, with tiny pebbles to gigantic boulders scattered all over. The waves crashed against the rocks… dancing their never-ending violent, passionate dance. It would have been great to just have claimed a boulder and sit there the whole day and watch that furious love-making go on and on.
But we were pressed for time. It was already past 4PM. Laoag was still two hours away, and we had an 830PM bus to catch.
As we passed by the bridge once more, I looked out into the ocean.
How many stories were drowned and buried in there? How many storms has it seen? How much secrets did it contain? Those were my last thoughts before I fell into travel slumber.
* * * *
I awoke with a start. “Nasa lighthouse na tayo!”
In my mind, “we were going here? I didn’t know that.” Still I jumped to my feet, grabbed my cam and had our picture taken with the lighthouse for the background. And up-up-up we went to the lighthouse.
There was a caretaker, and we asked permission if we could go up. Thankfully, he let us. But the door to the lighthouse was closed, so we satisfied ourselves with the perimeter area. Still, the main “house" had a more magnificent view of the sea and the sun, so we went back down. We lingered for a while, shooting pictures of the scenes and of each other. The caretaker was kind enough to open a door leading to the museum. It contained a model of the lighthouse, pictures of the parts of the lighthouse and a picture of the caretaker. He was Mang Ben. There was a description of what he did for the lighthouse. And of 365 days a year, he could only go home for seven days. Cooped up, all alone in that tower. It must be such joy for him to have visitors like us arrive.
While waiting for the sunset, he engaged us with conversation. Many famous people have had photo shoots in that tower. Assunta, Rosanna, Alex Bovick, models… He even showed us a Polaroid of him and Assunta just to prove to us he was telling the truth.
Fifteen minutes before complete descent of the sun, we sat there by the balcony. All five of us, waiting for a magnificent day to end in magnificence. Mang Ben continued with his stories… how lonely it could get being alone there… how he wished they would send him company just to have someone to talk to… how some visitors are friendly and some aren’t… how All Saint’s Day was so lonely that he finished a liter of gin on his own… how we would be welcome to come back and stay overnight there to share stories… how there are days he would just like to shout just to be heard…
Sentiments that some of us probably feel even if we aren’t stuck in a tower.
And as those stories continued, the sun was ready to set. Cameras ready, and our own hearts aflame… we awaited for the perfect moment. But then the perfect moment couldn’t have been captured by the camera.
The perfect moment was when everyone was silent with reverence and admiration of God’s handiwork. What proved to be an exciting and exhilarating vacation ended with a silent bang. Wherein we recognize in our souls that in the end, the experience of Ilocos was beautiful because of Him.
True enough, that day will never come back. Tomorrow is another day.
And that sunset seemed to be a visual of those prophetic words. A sunset that was both the joy of having been there and the sorrow of having to say goodbye. A sunset that was despair from a scarred yesterday and hope for a better tomorrow.
But today is all we have.
And we have that sunset to remember Ilocos and Mang Ben by.
Or we have Ilocos and Mang Ben to remember that sunset by.
Postscript:
The silence lingered in the car on the way home. As the flaming red of the sky lingered for as long as it could. Rage, Rage against the dying of the light.
As we passed one beach after another, the water was calm. Calm and red like the heavens. As if they both knew we were leaving and they wanted to be remembered in their exquisiteness and magnificence. As I would love to remember them.
But there is a time for day. And a time for night. The last wisp of red has been blown by the wind and the blue-black night finally lays claim to Ilocos.
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