To Ai, copy-furnished those who might be interested, here’s the rest of the story. Sorry for the delay in chika, but here:
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Ai had a change in work sched and couldn’t make it, some people were interested but learned about it too late, while others just weren’t cut out for the adventure. So there I was, getting ready with the final preparations and last-minute calls to ensure a safe travel alone, knowing that my being single is not a reason to limit my activities.
The last Manila-Baler bus leaves at 6 a.m., and since I had to attend to something and consequently missed that bus, took the other option where I had to go to Cabanatuan by bus and then from there, board a van to Baler. I left Manila at 11 a.m. and reached Bay’s Inn at 7 p.m. Marlon joined me at dinner to orient me about surfing. He was one of the officials in the next day’s competition so he couldn’t teach me, but he introduced Sandy who’ll take his place. A lot of people have asked me if they were good “prospects”. I’d say they could be, if I were a college girl. And if I were, I’d probably be too shy and self-conscious to even sit at a dinner with them. But at my age I couldn’t think of them in that way. It felt more like they’re my assistants and I’m their “boss”, because in a way I was in charge of how things would turn out to be for me. Besides, even before I went there it was clear to me that my purpose was to try and get a feel of surfing, or, if I’m really bad at it, just relax on the beach while watching the competition. Hunting for “prospects” was simply not in my agenda. I must admit, the view there was good, though.
I told Ai that I wouldn’t even dare to say that I’ve surfed. I’ve just tried to surf, and would probably be swallowing gallons, no, barrels more of sea water before I could even claim to be a surfer. But the experience was very memorable; it was both fun and funny. Especially since it happened right after a very grueling period at work and right before my birthday; convincing me that I really needed and deserved that break.
The first thing I had to do was climb and lie flat on top of the floating board as a wave approaches, but the first time I tried to do that I landed into the water on the other side of the board, eliciting suppressed giggles from my very supportive assistants, Sandy and Wowie-look-alike. When I was already able to do that, Sandy then proceeded to give instructions – I couldn’t imagine how I’d manage to follow while trying to balance on the board, but with the waves pushing me I didn’t have time to question the effectiveness of his teaching style. There was also a time when, thinking that Sandy was holding the board, I surfaced out of the water only to find out, upon hearing a muffled “Thud!” against my cheek, that I thought wrong. It hurt a little but only for a while. I remembered Marlon’s story about how embarrassed he felt when something like that happened to someone he was teaching before, so I assured my tutors that it was “Matunog lang, hindi naman masakit. (huhu!)”. To my delight, after a while I was able to ride a wave, kneeling! I know, I should have been standing, but kneel was all I could bring myself to do, and I was already happy with that.
After some time a strong wave threw me into the water. I felt that one of my top’s padding was missing. The water was above my chest so I tried to adjust the remaining one while scanning the water around me for a floating round “sponge” (do you know what I’m talking about here, girls?), but I couldn’t see any. I tried to ride another wave, this time while trying to conceal my chest with my arms as I try to stand up on the board (yes, ate mad, you may call it multi-tasking!). I was again thrown into the water and when I surfaced, I had to adjust my top’s strap. By then it has become clear to me that my swimsuit was made for calmer waters. So a rash guard IS an essential gear! It dawned on me that pictures of lady surfers wearing two-piece swimsuits must be like a picture of Angelica Panganiban’s (has the email with before-and-after pictures reached you?) flawless sexy body in a Tanduay pin-up: not real. Or maybe, they were really good lady surfers, Goddesses of the sea. While I, I am nothing but a sirena wannabe. It was then that I decided to stop, before my areola gets the chance to say, “Hello, Aurora!”
I immediately went out of the water and wrapped my sarong around me. They couldn’t understand why I had to quit after only about 15 minutes of trying, so I told them what happened and had a good laugh. They promised to borrow a rash guard for me (there’s no surf shop there yet), but since anyone who could surf would definitely do so, I don’t think they found someone who was willing to part with her rash guard. Anyway, I was happy to just watch the competition after that, lounging around with fresh calamansi juice and orders after orders of food, enjoying those rare “tunganga” moments. I believe I accomplished what I went there for, and probably even more than that.
Did I like surfing, from what I experienced and from what I saw in the competition? I think it would be fun to drink sea water, one glass at a time.
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The people I met in Aurora were all very kind and accommodating, just like in any other place I’d been to alone, that’s why I was a bit put off when one guy who came from another place (La Union if I heard it right) commented, within my hearing range, that he pitied me because I was alone in the cottage. Oh, I’m sorry, did my being alone rubbed wrongly against someone’s machismo here? How could he have come up with the assumption that I wasn’t enjoying my stay, I wonder? Was he, in psycho language, “projecting”? Probably. I was tempted to ask him who he thinks is more pitiful: someone who is comfortable being with himself alone (me) or someone who is not (him)? Does he think if I were given a choice, I would actually choose to be with a guy like him (no offense to the girlfriend, but we probably have different life ideals)? And why is it that lone lady foreigners (yes, I’ve met a lot of them in different islands in the Philippines) do not get that kind of attention, is it a cultural thing, a cultural expectation, then?
But then, I thought, would it be worth it to spend some of my precious “tunganga” moments talking to him? I remember Marlon (an engineer, btw) telling me that most of those who are good at surfing devoted their whole lives to it and did not go to school so maybe that’s why this guy had a very limited, uhm (no offense to the rest of the surfers who may not have degrees but are full of wisdom, nonetheless). So I just shrugged it off with the thought that maybe that was why his girlfriend called him “baby”.
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P.S. Being the good girl that I am, I decided to just pray for him. Now that results of the competition are out, it seems that I have prayed well. He did not win any slot. What a fine, fine day!
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