I didn't expect to see her as soon as I slid into the water.
in fact, I didn't expect to see her at all -
​But there she was.

her ancient form floated through the coral metropolis, her mammoth shell speckled with barnacles and patterns which seemed to dance in the watery sun beams.

​a fractalline kaleidoscope.

a steady stream of bubbles burst
​from my mouth as I squealed in excitement
upon beholding this
living dinosaur.
​
a sense of calm quickly enveloped me in composure,
as it dawned on me that this moment

was a gift.

I centered myself
and tuned in
lightning-aware,
present.

the gentle sea turtle and I
glided gracefully alongside one another
she, absorbed in
plucking food from the coral with her beak-like jaw
and I,
absorbed in her.

I dove down and swam with this timeless being
peered into
​her eyes,
disproportionately large
they seemed
​almost cartoon-like.

she accepted my presence
and the dry world I generally inhabit faded from my
consciousness as ten, twenty or thirty minutes passed
dreamily by.

when she went up for air,
I went up for air.
our wet heads bobbing momentarily above our
secret underwater world
and back down we would glide
into the loud silence that is home for
as many fish as there are stars in the sky,
sea snakes and jellyfish and manta rays
octopus and prawn and 
a sea turtle
​and me.

my imagination revelled in fantasies of
the Places she has surely been,
the Wonders she has surely seen
that no human ever could.
beneath the watery cloak of blue I marvelled 
at her shell,
within my reach -
a mobile home for this ancient aquatic astronaut
as she traversed the endless labyrinthian ocean
for twenty-something years,
if not longer.

I looked into her eyes and
she looked
​into mine.

I accepted the glass of mysterious liquid from his outstretched hand and took a sip. It was sweeter than I'd expected, and carried the familiar flavour of rum. Grinning from ear to ear, the grey-haired man tilted his blue plastic pitcher and topped up my drink. His smile not only enveloped his mouth and eyes, but his entire being exuded this smile of such a caliber that the receiver is left no choice but to involuntarily reciprocate. My face hurt from the joy of it all. The best part is, if you had asked me this morning where I would spend the day I would have honestly replied, "I don't have a clue!"

And that was the whole idea behind renting a scooter in Asia. You pay ten bucks for the bike, bring some cash and a camera and you're off! Eyes wide like a kid on the Fourth of July, heart soaring, free to explore every road's curve and alley's secret with nowhere to be but anywhere.

Dom and I sliced through the morning sun and basked in her glory as I scanned the ever-evolving scene around us. We rode through towns which became villages which turned into untouched nature, save for the pavement beneath our tires that kept us grounded. Waving children, stray dogs and indifferent cows met my eyes while palm trees, tropical fruit stands and the occasional sound of groups of smiling villagers squealing "HELLO!" rose and fell in our wake.

Sunshine suddenly gave way to clouds and my glistening skin welcomed the unexpected temperature drop. A rain drop or two fell down my cheek, followed by a drizzle and quickly - am absolute downpour. When the road became a river we realized our scooters were no longer a safe means of transportation and were forced to pull over and duck for cover. Luckily, shelter was readily available in the form of a small makeshift bamboo hut with a hole-riddled tin roof, leaning precariously on the side of the road. We joined five or six locals here, caught together in a game of 'waiting for the rain to stop' (an unpredictable and slow-moving game at best). When Dom lit up a cigarette, the group erupted in a gleeful chorus of "Marlboro, Marlboro!" and the pack was doled out equally and promptly. Raindrops fell through holes in the roof, threatening our Marlboros as we laughed, smoked, and waited. I watched miniature rivers fly down the leaves of banana trees and revelled in this unplanned moment of silence and kinship.

The rivers from the sky eased their aggression and soon enough we were off again, chasing down spontaneous  adventures! While cruising along down the main road, I felt compelled to veer right, off the beaten path and up a steep and slender diversion. This brought us to a definitive fork - left or right? We were feelin' left.

​The pavement eventually subsided and put our scooter tires (and driving skills) to the test with dirt, holes, loose gravel, a steep grade and sharp turns. But with this rugged terrain, there came a peaceful ambiance. An easy pace, small huts, a slow river. Silence. We came to a vantage point and stopped to take photos of the jaw-dropping view we had stumbled upon: rolling, jungle-covered hills to our left. The endlessly vast ocean and distant islands to our right.

​What happened next is the type of thing that creates a distinction between memorable and remarkable.

​With five kids in tow, a man with an infectious smile approached us, a little timidly. He walked slowly up the hill as the children yelled excitedly,

"Hello! How are you! What is your name! How old are you!"

"I'm Sonja!" I replied, matching their enthusiasm. Dom introduced himself, smiling.

The man introduced himself as Ben, and after a very brief chat he insisted that we come see where he lives. Feelings of excitement rippled through my chest as we followed him to his home, where we immediately met his entire family. Ben, his dad, his daughter and sons and all of their children were there to greet us like long-lost friends. All the generations gathered here in one communal space, living together in a smattering of small houses and huts. We were invited to sit in a shaded bamboo gazebo where rum and ice tea mix was promptly forced upon us. We explained that we can't drink because we are driving, but their smiles held strong as the outstretched hand that offered the drink. I'd like to know if anyone has ever been able to resist a Filipino smile. 

We sat and talked for a while, Ben insisting that we help him eat his lunch - liver, of a pig they had raised, with vegetables unrecognizable to me and of course, rice.

"In Canada, we don't invite people we don't know into our homes," I shared with the family, their eyes so warm and curious.

Ben's nephew, about 20 years old, furrowed his brow in genuine confusion, processing my statement.
.. "Why?"

I didn't know the answer, but my best guess came to me on the spot - "I think we are fearful. And also too busy, perhaps. No time to open our door, or our hearts. We stay in our own walls."

My words made my heart ache as they fell from my lips. I would like to believe that these beautiful, kind people gathered around me would receive the same hospitality in my country as they were showing us in that moment, but I doubted that would be the case.

This family was so happy, welcoming, loving and abundant in not money but true wealth. The company of one another, pigs chickens and rice to eat, the biggest smiles I have ever seen, and of course their local Tanduay Rhum and ice tea. A peaceful world tucked away on a mountain, overlooking the ocean, suspended in time inside a country of islands.

It was time for us to go. Feeling elated beyond measure, we started up our engines. The entire family followed to see us off. All the generations before our eyes, their smiles penetrating our spirits. We had driven up this rocky dirt-holed path not long ago following curiosity as our compass, and drove back down now, changed in some way. Inside me, a piece of the pain that comes with living in a world that is often cruel, unjust and plain crazy - was healed here. And that is more valuable than anything.