(Not) Off the Beaten Path

I'm trying to understand why traveling on off the beaten paths don't appeal to me. Hiking on mountains to get a decent view of the sunrise; riding buses, motorcycles, and boats then walking a thousand kilometers to get to a secluded, pristine lake. They say it's all about the journey, roughing it up to be rewarded with the beauty of nature, a silent sanctuary away from the bustling crowd of the city. But I'd take a room with a view where I can step out and get lost in the crowd and find a nook where I could have a decent local meal and a good cup of coffee. I'd take a city with trains and buses that could show me around, hop on and hop off from one stop to another until I've made full circle. And, of course, air-conditioning and a decent bathroom. With buffet breakfast, if possible.

I grew up in a barrio, one town away from the foot of Mt. Mayon. It was all trees, rice fields, and streams. On weekends and breaks from school, I'd be up on mango trees looking at the vastness of the place, a glimpse of Mayon on the horizon. I'd dare myself how high I could go, clinging to branches as thin as my arms, and sometimes jumping and breaking them. I'd have bruises all over me. I'd swim on streams with cousins and spot an occasional snake; play agawan base, shato, or those pili nuts that fell from our trees. On full moons, we'd go out and play hide-and-seek; on afternoons we'd play with toy guns snapped from twigs of trees and plants.

The road going to our barrio was paved up to the point where the politician lived and then it was all uneven black soil and stones. When I started commuting alone to school, I had to be home before 6PM because it became almost impossible to go home beyond that, unless I had to rent a tricycle which would eat up all my allowance for the day.

On summer mornings, we'd jog towards the sea to catch the sunrise. Some Christmases and summers were spent without electricity because a storm ravaged the region six months ago. When Mayon would erupt, we would be evacuated to an even more remote place on the mountains where electricity was foreign and a jeepney or a tricycle only traveled twice a day. We'd wake up every day with the face of nature. And it was not always pretty.

For most of my childhood, I was roughing it up. While we were not poor, the circumstances around us were. It was not a choice for me to travel on off the beaten path. I grew up experiencing nature, its beauty and its madness. I lived in an off the beaten path. Roughing it up was a way of life.

I've lived through storms, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, and flash floods. So when people would ask me if I'd like to hike a mountain or travel to a secluded lake, I'd balk. I know it's beautiful; I know there's an allure to it. Been there, been that. If you've been roughing it up growing up, you'd want an experience that doesn't remind you of how hard it used to be for you.

But who knows, when my second childhood hits, I'd find beauty in the off the beaten path. For now, I still have enough of it.