Osmeña Peak has become Mainstream

In 2001, we had a disco at Osmeña Peak, powered by a generator. Young people from all the barangays of Dalaguete answered the call to celebrate an electoral victory. All disco equipment were tied and hung in bamboo poles, laid on shoulders of excited men, and carried through the dangerous trek. We were guarded by armed police that night. Fog descended early, and the party lasted until dawn. Shaggy's hits, "Angel" and "It Wasn't Me", kept on playing as we danced with friends and familiar Dalaguetnon faces. It was a night to remember.

I went to the Peak this afternoon and saw a great number of unfamiliar faces; cars were lined up in Lapa at the foot of the peak; Habal2s were everywere; and stores have mushroomed. The omnipresence of visitors have rendered the stones smooth and weathered. With all the activity, inch by inch, the Peak's height is reduced; taken away by shoes which trample the loosened soil and stones.

In 2001, going to the Peak would earn you extra bragging rights. The Peak was so mysterious, captivating, and deadly then. Only very few come there. During that time, it was real communion with nature. You have to walk on a dirt road from the market to the peak. Some would opt for the shortcut where there's that spring to refill water. Going up there was really an adventure, and the arrival at the summit, is the compensation for all the hard work.

Now, people just ride to the drop off point at the foot of the peak. The road is paved today. A tourist info center has been constructed, and the path of rough-edged boulders have been hammered and chiseled smooth. Then there are these handful of self-proclaimed guides and handymen to pester you upon ascent. The variety of garbage too have significantly increased. Truly, it has evolved into a true definition of a tourist spot. Hayyyyy.... And those shirts are ought to be banned.

It is very different now.

Sea Urchins and friends

Out of boredom, my friends and I decided to spend the afternoon trying to get tuyom or sea urchins. I don't know if they know that the edible parts of sea urchins are actually their reproductive organs. I often tell people this fact, but instead of grossing them with the idea of eating those parts, it makes them even more excited as I am.

And so we brought a knife, a bowl, vinegar, a liter of freshwater, some lunch leftovers, and four cups of cooked rice... We grabbed (stole) some sili and lemonsito from neighbors' frontyards on our way to the sea. Along with a sako, we brought this powerful tool, a branch with a Y-shape end.

The mission was a failure. The water is still deep. Even so, the scene gave me a deep reminder of the past. I often go to the sea before, but not anymore. The last time I went near our sea was when I visited a few house campaiging for the elections.

Y-shaped end for getting the sea urchin

When I was young, I was like the others who look at the sea for amusement. We scout for balani and use it as raft; fight with mud; steal coconuts; watch circumcision rites; and wash clothes in the guiwanon spring.

The old ones taught us how to spot hagiis, tampayak, salawaki, aninikad, bangkawil, buta2, and ganga. We dig for ipan, and we harvest lusay fruits. We were not ignorant of the poisonous ones; that the bahag2 and bakay2 may look nasty but are harmless... We step on donsol for it to release purple ink... and of course squeese balat and wait for the sticky liquid to ooze making us laugh.

Sometimes we join in the frenzy when the older guys use tuble vine whose juice released when crushed make the Ito fish dizzy.

We know the plants near the sea, the oon and nigad on the palanas, and the pagatpat and bakhaw in the water.

I felt nostalgic as I waded in the water to go to the next cove. I recalled the spots we used for picnics. Ka Mattias, Ka Talina, Ka David--these are the beach fronts frequented by our community folks before. We do not go far when we celebrate Easter or San Juan. We just go to our sea.

Today, much has changed. Dakay owns most of the land going to the sea. The boulders we use to jump to the water are gone. It felt strange.

Yesterday, for the first time in a long time, my friends and I waded in the waist-deep water. Bringing sako and Y-shaped tuyom tool, we waded with excitement and disappointment.

We waded until we reached Obong Spring, realized entrance is free if you come from the sea, took a dip in its cool waters, ate our balon, and walked home in the highway laughing and feeling foolish.

This is my summer. And summer, indeed, is a mixture of varied emotions. We're just glad that happiness is greater than the other ones.