Peter's Buen Camino: A Long Sleep, A Long Walk, A Long Wait

After near 22 hours of sleepless and uncomfortable travel, the plane bumped down too sharply onto the Cebu tarmac, bounced heart stoppingly to the right, screeched back on course, and stopped too quickly, squealing brakes and all: "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Mactan International Airport in Cebu. The local time is 21:05 for an on-time arrival. The temperature is 27C." By then our squeals had subsided but we continued to exchange wide-eyed glances.
The vets knew the real race started now. I, the Cebu rook, just shook my head as the shoving started. Passport control was ahead. Little did I know there were 4 lines for Philippinos and one line for all others. This is a time of moderate rains and temperature in the Philippines. Chinese, Koreans, and Taiwanese come here like New Yorkers head for Florida in February. An hour and a half later, through customs, and out the terminal, I see the guy holding my name on a sign. I head over, and off we go. Check-in was a breeze and within 20 minutes my head hit the pillow, not to rise for over 10 hours!
The very late morning was just made for a luke warm shower, washing swampy clothes, and heading down for some coffee. Out my window I spied a fish joint in the street behind the hotel. At the front desk, I got directions for my amble and a sort of map, a warning that 3k was too far to walk and set out for stop number 1: fish lunch.
By daylight my hotel is perfectly nice. Every thing around it looks to be subject to individually initiated urban renewal. Mounds of debris are everywhere ( it is expensive to get rid of 'stuff') and each mound seems zealously guarded by a street dog who has no problem telling you, 'This my mound so just move the heck along or we'll have trouble.'
The fish joint was great. Lunch was long over and dinner wasn't for hours. I sat outside and yukked it up with the staff who congregated around the 55 gallon drum grill scarfing up tasty bits of chicken and beef the grill guy doled out as he prepped dinner (yeah the par cooked food was going to sit in ambiguous refrigeration for a few hours--thus fish). I have been told to be leery of the water, so beer it was. I am not a day drinker so I got tipsy just sipping and waiting for my fish and rice lunch. I got to watch the young construction workers across the street josh with the girls working the restaurant they were repairing. Motorbikes delivered pipe, concrete, and wire up and down the street in a never ending flow. I loved every minute of it: warm, tipsy, good humor with gentle folk, and smiles all around.
The 3k walk was a bit more than I expected. Either the hard prior day or chemo fatigue came over me. I sat twice. I drank a coke. I drank two waters. I love bustling Asian cities--the smells, the crowds, the exotic to me normal to residents mind shift, but my weary legs made this a bit of a slog. Yet the end paid in dividends large. I was headed to Santo Nino basillica. Supposedly somebody 'found' an image of the Holy Infant in 1565 and a church was founded there in one of the early Spanish settlements in the Philippines. Outside the church the lame in body and mind gather, sit, and shuffle to sell candles. Maybe they hope to get to the water when the angel disturbs it like in the story. If not they are busy reminding us to look close without smug pity and give because Jesus is before our eyes. I got there just as Mass in English and, I suspect, Cebuano started. There were so many folk the officiant was outside. Inside there were video screens beside the altar. I took my place and was transported. Catholics know a thing ot two about joining mind and body in worship to puncuate praise: stand for the gospel, kneel before the bread and wine, sit for the homily, sing aloud, and join hands with neighbors in peace. All they need is a loud shout of praise when the bread cracks broken, but then I guess they been proclaiming the Gospel for 2000 years without my help. Guess what--weepy me, wept. Tired, missing my wife, thankful, so very thankful to be with the faithful calling for mercy and proclaiming grace. Thankful so very thankful to be alive, simply alive in a world so full of wonder.
I left for dinner already full--- and now, I wait for what seems to be endless hours for Rachel to arrive and more adventure to unfold.
Buen Camino