A soothing scene at dusk.
Puraran is a paradise well-hidden by the mountains. It took me almost 2 hours to get there by tricycle. The road leading to the place was rough. The only jeep that goes through it, plying the Virac-Gigmoto route, has only one trip a day. I was at the mercy and the kindness of the locals. The way they treated me only reaffirmed my faith in the Filipino people. Yes, there is hope for this country.
After the long journey to Puraran, I was not surprised when I was greeted by an almost deserted place. There were only two other guests in that rustic resort: a foreigner who never spoke a word and a poet invoking his muses. The poet I was able to have a great conversation with. Looking back, I realize finding Puraran on my own was a great adventure. Getting a glimpse of a poet's solitude was another.
As always, being in a strange place renews me. It heals me in a way that I cannot define. What is it about the strangeness? Why do I have this urge to get away from it all, to momentarily disappear from the rest of the world as I know it? Why am I so drawn to being alone? What is it about new faces in new places? Why do I yearn for new things so much?
I love my solitude. Yet I keep on praying for that day when I can finally share it.
The time I spent journeying to Catanduanes was much longer than my actual stay in the island. But as the cliche goes, it's the journey, not the destination. My few hours in that place prepared me for yet more arduous battles in the city. The soldier has rested well.
Next destinations: Masbate, Siquijor, Palawan. And then... Batanes. Sigh...