This is one of those stories I wrote about a while back but never ended up publishing. This one is from around early to mid-October 2016, right at the start of my life at site in the Philippines.
When I lived with my host family, I discovered a spot that still remains my favorite spot in my entire municipality. The end of the sea wall in my home situ Storom. The situ is named ‘Storom’ because it started out, quite literally as a storage room when the national highway was being built. But now, it’s a cute little concrete and dirt pathway snugly tucked between houses of all different sizes, materials, and colors. My host family lived almost at the very end of this little pathway.
My occasional walk home, when Kuya Bilyo didn’t take me home in his tryke, was down the sharp downhill turn from the highway, around the a few bends waving to my friends posted on their porches, working at the sari-saris, and in the woodworking shop. I’d walk past a few small rice fields, across the basketball court (even the tiniest of situs has a basketball court!) and down the straight path filled with friendly faces and tiny kids yelling ‘hello! I love you!’. When I arrived home, I would quickly throw my things down, change out of my work clothes, grab my tsinelas, and walk to the seawall.
The sea wall bordered the entire situ, keeping the river from putting the whole place underwater during the rainy season. I’d walk down towards the only house further than my host family’s and climb up the concrete stairs to the sea wall. The sea wall was flat on top with a raised portion in the middle making it so 3 people could walk side by side. Usually Bochoy, the family dog, would jump up onto the highest tier and accompany me on my walks. I’d walk down the meandering sea wall, the river on one side, and a sea of rice fields on the other. My favorite part of the sea wall was, aside from Bochoy and I, there were barely any people on it. Just he occasional fisherfolk returning from the sea. Here, my neurons could take a break.
At the point where the river opened up to the sea, the sea wall ended. I would sit and hang my legs off the end, and process what was almost always a hectic day. On the days when the tide was low, I could walk out through the grazing cattle and carabao, to a few mangroves and a sandy tidal flat. I would wander around that area, try to get some steps in from my mostly sedentary days, and watch the beautiful sunsets.
One day I was wandering close to the few mangroves that were growing on the riverbed, the ground was sandy so I thought nothing of it. My feet sank slightly into the sand and I stepped a bit quicker to prevent myself from sinking deeper. Big mistake. Instead of landing on firmer ground, I continued on to spots that were sinking faster and faster. All of sudden one of my legs was sucked up by the earth to above my knee. I tried to use my other leg to leverage myself out of the mud, but it too was sucked up!
I did a quick survey of the area, the LAST thing I wanted was for some horrified Ate or Kuya to find me stuck in the mud in my favorite wandering spot! My host family would never let me come back! There was no one, only the carabao who lazily looked at me. The carabao, if they were thinking about my situation at all, were probably jealous that I found such a good mud hole, not the slightest bit concerned that I was Indiana Jones style stuck in the mud. I struggled a little and began to sink deeper. I sat for a moment and laughed at the situation I appeared to be in. Sucked up in the mud, on an abandoned beach, in the middle of the provincial Philippines, what a sight, what an experience, what a life.
Too cozy to come to your rescue
Composed once again, I surrendered my tsinela and used my arms to pull hard on the left leg, my right one sank deeper, but my left leg began to pull free! Once at the surface I found a stable spot to pull my right leg out. With my legs no longer holding the mud apart, it sank into the holes I had created beginning to take my tsinelas with them! I quickly reached in and pulled them free as well. I looked around again, legs covered in mud, still no audience, thank goodness. I quickly darted out of the quicksand area, and to the sea to wash my legs, arms, and hands. I sat back on the beach and laughed. I think back to all my past selves. The one who applied for Peace Corps, the anxious high schooler who packed her bags for university, the little 5th grader who dreamed of being a marine biologist, the kindergartener who wanted to be an astronaut. I think of them, and I think of what they would think if they saw me now. Muddy, wet, laughing, by myself, on a beach in the Philippines. As an avid overthinker I really love the moments I can’t predict, the ones that really surprise me, the ones that I sit back and think about, and say ‘wow, I really didn’t see that coming’. Probably my favorite part of living in the Philippines is saying those words so very often.