4/10/2005

Off to the races

I typed this six hours before deporting for Zamboanga along with fellow HF staff Paul, JC, and Jay to cover the PRISAA-Nationals. This year’s Nationals is unprecedented since this would be the first time in three years (that’s how far my history with this annual sports spectacle goes) that there would be an extensive number of events to be held, not counting last summer’s CHEd National Palaro.

I slept at about 1:30am. It’s not that I’m restless, just had a pre-departure conversation with a friend over the phone. Serious but nothing to lose sleep over.

Apparently, the adrenaline was the only thing that kept me awake because I fell unconscious on the sofa while watching America’s Funniest Videos in the Disney Channel with the lights on. Still had the presence of mind to press the sleep button on the remote before I went to Neverneverland (no, it’s not the Michael Jackson kiddie mansion).

Was woken up by my mom for some last minute reminders at about 5am. Did my last minute packing. SMSed some last minute instructions and typed an intensive step-by-step guide for Viva to follow for the layout of our sports magazine. Then did this.

Last night, I told my companions while buying for tickets, “I may not get sleep later.” Don’t know why I said that. I mean, the last time I rode an airplane, it was bound for Manila from Bacolod after a week’s worth of Unigames. And I ride a de-hila banka every time I go to school from my Sta. Mesa residence. So, what I should be experiencing is nothing new.

My fear or apprehension, most likely comes from the fact that this is the first time any of us would be going to that part of Mindanao (I’ve been to Davao, and that’s on the other side), none of us in the group could speak the local vernacular, and we are this ( ) close to Basilan.

Not to persecute our Muslim brethren as war freaks or something, but you’ll never know what to expect when you are at the tip of mainland Mindanao and in a small island just a boat ride away, unrest still occurs.

As early as now I feel lost. I mean, at least people still speak Tagalog in Laguna and Quezon, we had one Kapampangan writer with us when we travelled to Pampanga to cover the 2003 National PRISAA, and I know some Illonggo to keep me alive in Bacolod.

I feel like an Amazing Race contestant trapped in a Roadblock task. Eeek…

Looking at the bright side though, I know of some people willing to trade places with me right now. Tara na, biyahe tayo!


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