I’ve seen Baybay before the typhoon “Yolanda” marred its beauty.
My parents had to work there, and they brought me with them. For weeks, we stayed in some sort of a village near the sea. We had a hostel to inhabit – the one that was walking distance from the shore.
Every morning, I would bring my laptop to the porch and write. I’d stare at the sea, as if the muse would appear there. I’d listen to the waves, to the occasional chirping of birds, to the slapping branches of pine trees. The wind was always crazy strong there.
Some mornings, I’d walk by the shore. It had more rocks than sand – smooth lopsided rocks – and I would saunter over their varying sizes. Sometimes, I’d get near the water and let the sea wash my feet. It was refreshing to watch the sea breathe. And I’ve watched it all turn to gold during sunrise and sunset.
The water there isn’t as pristine, nor the shore there was as clean as those famous tourist spots. But it was peaceful in Baybay – such kind of peace that sits in your heart like a prayer. I’ve felt God there as easy as the wind blowing.
I wonder if I have to see Baybay again (or any place similar to it) to gain the same peace again. Is it really the place? Is it its sea? Is it its wind? Is it really Baybay?
Because if it is, then poor me, I won’t have that peace again.
They said the typhoon ruined it.