"Guys, this is Pau, my... girl."
"Hey, do you surf too?"
"No."
Weak smile as a response, and they go about talking how glassy the waves are earlier that day and how good the waves are going to be tomorrow according to the forecast at another spot.
No one even bothers to ask what I do for fun. Heck, I've been to a lot of adventures than a normal person and I thought my life has been pretty interesting because of my travels until I got to know him. Then I realized how boring, comfortable, and normal my life is. Also, how antisocial, old-fashioned, uncool and unstylish I am.
He never looked nice. He looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something.
He is not a standout. His beaches are not as pristine as Palawan and Boracay. His sceneries are not as picturesque as the Cordilleras. But she found herself back to him a month after her last visit.
I had planned to be somewhere extra special in celebration of that day when my parents screwed up their lives. I was thinking Batanes or Bali in Indonesia just so I could have bragging rights of being somewhere significant on my day. But just like most of my travels, out of no cognitive reason I ended up in a place east of Nueva Ecija.
If you do not already know, Baler is best known for surfing. I am no surfer nor am I a swimmer, and my surfing stint in La Union was probably out of pure luck or weak waves so there is no real reason why I choose to be here for my birthday. But I guess it is the mindless decisions that always lead me to the most blissful moments.
I want something else, something more. I want to go and never go back. Because bite size travels don't suffice my hunger anymore. Because I know I should be somewhere else but here.
