I Can Hear the Dew Drop

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

That's what Aying said this morning as we listened to the sounds in the midst of this wonderful tropical forest where our friend Emmie's property is. It rained last night and I woke up around 2 am. I listened to the pitter-patter of the gentle rain that lulled me back to sleep until I awoke to Aying's rustling as she went to the verandah on the other side of the room. It was still dark and I got up, washed my face and then joined her so that we could wait for the sun to rise. Even in the dark, we were mesmerized by the beauty before us. With the light from the waning moon, we could trace the mountains, the trees and the white clouds that enveloped them. We took pictures, hoping to capture the moment.

We are lodged in a beautiful cottage she (Emmie) had built for family and friends who come to Puerto Princesa and visit with her. We marvel at the majesty of the mountains as they slowly show their glory at the first light of dawn. Ah, what a beautiful place this is, if only Aying would stop talking and let me listen to the cicadas and the crickets and the chorus of roosters heralding the start of a new day.

We arrived in Puerto Princesa last night – around 5:40 pm. Our flight was delayed and both Aying and I were quite tired. It was a short 56 minute trip from Manila and we were seated at the 3rd row of the plane. We had an extra space in our row and as soon as the plane's door closed, I moved to the last space so Aying and I had that extra space between us. It was a very pleasant and uneventful flight. All we wanted was to land and see our dear friend, Emmie.

Aying, Emmie and I met as youngsters – all members of the youth group APKA (Four Ks) of our respective towns, each chosen to represent the province of Rizal in the Canada World Youth Exchange Program. We were three of seven from our province and of the 35 from all over the Philippines who were teamed with a group of another 35 young Canadians in this enriching cultural exchange program. We all did a lot of growing up together as we experienced western ways and culture shock that went with it. Those times were both exhilarating and overwhelming, but educational and magical – and we savored every moment of it.

After the program, we all went our different ways and pursued different endeavors, but we kept in touch. I sang at both Emmie's and Aying's weddings. Emmie and I had worked in several Ystaphil (Youth and Student Travel Association of the Philippines)-sponsored YCAP (Youth Civic Action Program) programs that took a boatload and a trainful of university students to different provinces in the Philippines for cultural exposure and lessons on community development. I was also godmother to Aying's oldest child.

Despite the physical distance between us, our hearts, our memories, our thoughts and our affection for each other remained constant. When we got together, even after decades of separation, we would just take off from where we left, as if there were only a few days in between our rendezvous.

And so here we are today, in Emmie's house in Puerto Princesa – awed by the beauty of nature, of the thickness of the still virgin tropical forest teeming with life – of insects and reptiles and birds – those that we knew and grew up with long ago, and some others we read about and learned from school.

"This is paradise," I told Emmie – "and you live in it." And the three of us smiled and nodded our heads. Emmie is home.