Davao and Divinations

I. Paradise

In Davao I can wake up at 7 AM, eat breakfast, walk for 15 minutes to the main road, flag a jeep or if I am not too lazy, walk another 20 minutes to the resort’s marina, pay the 15 pesos ferry ride and I’m there, Paradise Island Resort, the less expensive gateway to Samal Island, with its no frills but good enough facilities. The sand is as white as the other side of the island. And because the amenities here are pretty basic, most of those who come are Dabawenos, Thus there’s no need to dress up, and there are no pearl vendors to pester you on the way to the pier. Shorts, a shirt or two, flipflops, a towel and one good book. That’s all I need to relax in Paradise.

The water level dips the closer it gets to noon, so for swimming, one must time his visits either in the early morning or late afternoons. In my case, since I don’t know how to swim, I am content to just dawdle and walk to the water, savoring the warm wet sensation, face the limitless horizon. When I get tired, I lounge into one of the shaded beach chairs and read one of my father’s pocketbooks. To just let the time pass, feet dangling, occasionally touching the warm sand, and looking up from time to time to beauty at its most primitive thus purest. How the liquid sea, the sun and the view of a vastness so blue, so seemingly placid forces one into a sense of peace, this sea of serenity on a typical day in Davao.

II. At home

Maybe it is because whenever I go to my father’s house in Davao it is mostly for vacation, staying for only a week as a respite, a reward before going back to the hustle and bustle of being an OFW. Maybe it is this that has given me a biased view of life in this city. I am twenty minutes away by car from the sea, an hour away from a wild water adventure in the Davao River, A few hours away from the challenge of conquering Mt. Apo. And still there is the convenience of cityhood all around me—the malls, a myriad of restaurants, the numerous coffee shops selling Durian coffee and offering free wifis, and the abundance of my favorite fruits—Mangosteen and Durian. And because Davao is known for being the safest city in the country despite it’s proximity to Cotabato, one could roam around at night knowing that the chance of being mugged is practically nil.

Last month when I went home to Davao, even as I was all alone in the house with no one but the helper to help me guide and tour our two bisitas from Manila, I realized, listening to the surprised appreciation of the two tourists, how truly Davao is a haven.

The last time I went there, I went to reflect and rid myself of sadness, but I came back to Manila with a renewed yearning, the hope to visit Davao again before I leave for some foreign land. To have that mix of languid pleasure (from the sea), adrenaline rush from the water rafting, and a sense of domesticity, cooking meals for my father, to have that sense of unhurriedness one last time before rushing to other shores. And so next week I’ll be off again to my second hometown—to the sea, and hopefully to serenity. And hopefully by November, I’d be back again, this time to fulfill my one last goal before turning a year older-- to climb Mt. Apo. And maybe in a few years time, I would have saved enough to live in Davao for a while, root myself, open a small business, and live simply but close to sea.