The Spam Machine

PROLOGUE

I eagerly ended my Chinese classes with a smile so wide like an upside-down rainbow. I rushed through the human-traffic along the corridors; I pushed, I bumped, and I clashed like a soft-boiled egg on a cooking bowl. Excitement kicked in and I felt like our 100kph car was running slow, I nearly pushed aside our driver so I could drive the car myself. But that’s just desperate and unethical.

It was six in the evening when we got home. With adrenaline still rushing through my veins, I roared for the gates to be opened. I jumped off the car like a track and field player. I barged in our room and nearly unscrewed the door. I pushed the computer button and turned it on, clicked on my Yahoo Messenger, typed my username and password, clicked on Log In, and changed my status message to:

“ice, softdrinks, chicken, shanghai rolls, chicken pop, baked mac, spaghetti, canned goods, cookies, ham, c2, ensaymada, water, candies, chips, paper plates, utensils, donuts, did i miss anything?”

That was my status message in my Yahoo Messenger last Friday night. I was indeed very excited throughout the whole night that I didn’t catch a minute to think that it was already twelve midnight when I signed off.

THE DAY

I woke up in delusion because I only had three hours of sleep that night. Still, I jammed enthusiasm in my system and greeted the surprising day with a grin. I took a bath and shampooed my hair thrice unnoticed until I got out of the bathroom. On the dining table was served a dozen hotdogs, I ate four as far as I can remember. I didn’t eat rice, because I know I’m going to have a heavy lunch that day; A heavy lunch. So I hurried towards our L300, and set off for school.

We arrived at five o’clock in the morning, the sun was still down and the skies were painted black. I slept for thirty minutes in our car and waited for 5:30. Just as when my phone was about to wake me up with its whisper-like alarm tone, chit-chats and murmurs were already present in the school campus. So I hopped off the L300, fixed my hair a bit, and joined the clattering sounds of conversations.

Six o’clock came and our head count was still thirty-five. We were thirty-eight supposedly, since only two failed to join the trip. Anyhow, the clock ticked unstoppably ‘til 6:15, and we are asked to head for the bus. We were only thirty-six that time, two more were missing. We were worried.

So, we walked out of the school campus through the main gate, passed by Sizzling Pares, crossed the road, and headed for bus A. Well, upon sight of our day’s vehicle, this was accompanied by the hideous sight of a cluster of dog poop. Luckily, we managed to salvage our noses and we rode on the bus. It was the start of the trip.

We still hadn’t lost hope and we waited for our two classmates to go onboard. But after some slick time of waiting, only one came. So we ditched the other. No, more like, we marked him absent. The first twenty minutes of the bus trip was taken by our very thoughtful tour guide, her name was Ate Marie. Coincidentally, we had a classmate named Marie too. She was very informative and very sure of the details she gives us. Plus, she laughs loud. After some introduction to the day’s trip, we were given the rest of the time to chitchat with our friends. It was the fun part, seriously.

Two hours had gone by and we were on our first destination---THE destination---Biak-na-Bato. It rained a bit so we expected the route through the trek to be muddy and murky. Still, we were excited.

We got off the bus, and the rain still hadn’t stopped its career, that is, to spoil the day. We lined in front of our Biak-na-Bato guides, who were Kuya Joey and Ate Lordis (Lourdes, I guess.). We entered the “park” through the big eye-catching signpost “Do not litter.”

Few stairs up, and few stairs down, yes, down. We incidentally ended up before a hanging bridge. For the record, I am acrophobic, or in non-scientific slash psychological words, am afraid of heights (but Justin says it’s afraid of falling, who cares?). The bridge can only capacitate ten people, so we were divided into groups. As we finished crossing the bridge, there were sighs of relief since the bridge looked untrustworthy. And so the real no-turning-back voyage started.

After some quite unlovely sight of River Kupal, that’s what I coined it, we saw a public restroom. Yes, it was public, and it was in the forests. Weird. So, aside from the toilet room being ironically located, it has ancient scriptures vandalized on it. These read to my eyes the words “F*** OF B****”. The grammar was excruciatingly painful to the eyes of a grammar-obsessed. I actually felt the urge to correct the grammar with a spray paint, sadly, there was none present around the area. We were in a forest, duh. And so, we trekked along River Kupal, which why I named it Kupal is later explained. The river never escaped our sight since it was present throughout the whole journey.

And past some more stairs, we ended up under the heat of the sun, with murky shoe laces, before another untrustworthy hanging bridge. This time, you can clearly see its unfinished (or ruined) architecture. Only five people were allowed to aboard the bridge. When I was on the hole-filled bridge, thirty seconds seemed an entire butterfly’s lifespan (which was one week, according to Ate Marie). Finally, I still managed to contain my inner-self, which no one has dared to see.

Our classmate asked if the road was still long, the guide said 200 more freaking steps. I was actually about to hang myself upside-down with the vines that dropped down in front of our faces occasionally, we were all exhausted. So, Fleur, my classmate who asked, counted the steps. 1, 2, 3, …200. After 200 steps, the exit was still invisible to our eyes. Such great deception, our hopes were slaved in dishonesty. I was about to call a rescue chopper to land on our tour guides’ heads since I was really pissed off and tired. But in non-KJs’ words, the show must go on! So I trailed along the mud-covered stairs.

Stairs and river,
Stairs and leaves,
Stairs and mud,
Stairs and rocks,
Stairs and more mud,
Stairs and exhausted classmates,
Stairs and ma’am Llenado’s sandals,
Stairs and Camille’s occasional shrieks,
Stairs and raindrops on my head,
Stairs and centipedes,
Stairs and earthworms,
Stairs and SHIT?!?!

Yes, there was shit. Not that of a bird’s, nor that of a dog’s, but that of a homo sapien’s. It was brown and it was camouflaged in mud. Yuck! Who would do that, especially in the forest? Especially he’s a homo sapien. The shit, which I suppose was still fresh, had pores all over its stiff body. It was still alive, it was breathing, and it was real. Good thing it didn’t have a smell, that’s just disgusting. But the sad part, and the worst part, the image of this real live breathing human shit is imprinted in my photographic memory. Pardon for my very precise description, the image of the shit is still fresh to me. And I am scared that it will haunt my dreams tonight.

Moving on with the shit (which I hope I can successfully fulfil, to move on), far from where our eyes can see, we heard the river’s rapid water. In situational concepts, rivers should actually direct you towards civilization in case you get lost in a forest. It was supposed to be the sound of relief, but nope, our ears cannot deceive our eyes. There were no signs of civilization, not even non-trekker people, present in our sights. We were forced to accept the reality that this was another factor to piss us all off; The Stream of Kupalness.

Upon the unwelcoming sight of the bronzed River Kupal came with it The Streams of Kupalness. The water was ankle-high, so we needed to take off our shoes so our feet wouldn’t smell bad after. It was not long when Abigail, Justin, George, and I were in front of the annoyed line. Luckily for them, a very kind Kuya carried them through the stream. Them, meaning not me, how I detest that moment, not that I hate kuya for being kind to them, but because I had to take off my shoes and cross the river barefoot, and the line across the river was full so I need to squeeze myself and my wet feet. But, since I am also kind, as all of you know (sarcastic?), I just crossed the stream even if it hurts my pride and it wets my feet. So from the shit island, I journeyed through the stream, and landed on the place of Painful Salvation (a.k.a. tissue-haven). I call it tissue-haven because it is where the whole class (except for Abby, Justin, George and Mollie) wiped the mud off our feet and finished up a whole pack of Sandra’s tissue. Thank you, Sandra! Anyhow, we travelled further, some wore their shoes, and some walked barefoot.

And after a googolplex of stairs, we saw civilization; a heaven of sophistication. And now, some of us bought a pair slippers for themselves (Kimberly Shane Tiu of 2-1 got herself a size 10, hahaha, wala kang takas!), but the unlucky ones like me just faced the reality of swollen feet.
So it was another bus trip to Pulilan, where the butterfly haven is located. We ate our way through, basically. But in more elaborated words, we consumed food the whole trip. Haha, seriously, all we did was to eat Cheetos (Flaming Hot flavour), Piattos, drink Pepsi Max, and eat the Otap Caryl bought when she was in Cebu. Since the Biak-na- Bato trek was tiring, some slept. But in my world, the noise never stops.

We arrived in the Pulilan Butterfly Haven with our shoe laces still wet with mud. It was time for us to pack our “portable fiesta kit” and move it to the picnic place to set up the buffet. I let Chang carry my cooler, evil! So we reserved three tables, and set up the supposedly public-buffet. I was happily munching my hunger away when Mr. Del Rosario came. He saw me chewing on spaghetti when he forced me to eat more. And me, the gullible me, willingly ate another plate of spaghetti. And then he asked me to get chicken, and I got chicken. And he asked me to get ham, and I got ham. So basically, I ate four lunches that day. And I was only expecting a heavy lunch. My stomach was bigger than my bag. After we ate, we cleaned the table together with Mrs. Llenado and then we hit the bus again. Dale scooted in a bag compartment in our bus and pulled a prank on everyone who entered. He tapped everyone on the shoulder---even the teachers---and quickly hid in the above compartment. The bus was laughing the whole time Ms. Lim tickled Dale in naughtiness. We were heading for Casa Real when we found out that it was closed for the public since a VIP visitor was there. We want refunds! Just kidding.

So in dismay, we headed for the historical Barosoain Church. I have been there already with my family, but the sight of a spectacular time-withstanding structure is a must-see-again for me. In the church, I kneeled and prayed for thanks for that day was really fun and harmless. It was really heart-warming when I got to share some of my religion’s culture and traditions to other religion members. Plus, I learned more concerning the church’s structure from Ate Marie. Thanks ate! After ten minutes or so in the basilica, we followed the Blue Flag (our group marker), and headed for the Lights and Sounds museum. There was nothing much to say except WOW. The lighting was exactly timed with the voice over, and the gloomy sound-effects really added to the hyped emotions in the room. The show was romantic to the love for our country, as it showed the life of our Inang Bayan through the Western colonization era. It was a noble act for the museum to establish such intellectual and mind-feeding informative performance. It was WOW.

And here comes the sad part, departure. The day was really hard to leave since it was generally the first time we got to really bond with each other. New characteristics and new values from everyone emerged. It was fun, of course. I don’t really want to use the word fun because it’ll sound cliché. So for this day, I redefined the word fun to “ecstatic”. Yup, the day was very ecstatic, and wet. But still, we chatted our way home, and this was when we got to know each other more. It was a tiring day (especially in Biak-na-Bato), physically and mentally, but I assure you we never got tired of smiling and laughing. September 1st of 2007; II-1’s achievements of class unison---of true friendship, ecstasy, care for one another, and of FOOD!

EPILOGUE

Reflection: That night, sadly, I got sick with fever. Yes, it must be with the food I overate. But my high temperature dilemma is complemented by the smiles and unforgettable memories that I have kept in my mind. And I will keep it safe, locked and sealed with loyalty, forever. (Except the shit part.)