SABBATICAL NOTES. 4 FEB 2014 PHLT N3
ONE OF THE DELIGHTS of travel is that after one has foot on the old earth of 'country home,' the body claims its quota of regeneration, reinvigoration, reenergizing.
You have to give in to the call of dreamland.
So you sleep in a different time zone, and you wake up in a different time zone too, and you feel, deep in your gallivanting bones, that you have come back to life after that catatonic experience of hours and hours of being tied to an airplane's seat.
You check the time, and it is evening where you came from.
You try to listen, and silence fills your heart, the silence of the wee hours of morning, dogs from neighbors homes probably still dreaming of bones from crispy pata.
You wake up at 3 AM, and like a monastic person, you utter something called prayer of thanks.
You start to make noise by hitting those buttons representing the letters of your vagabond thoughts, the delight of one like you who likes to go away and hit the road less traveled, and seducing the road to rise up and meet you.
You dream of coffee's aroma, the brrrr of the coffee grinder, and the slow, slow, slow dripping of the coffee maker, one slow drip at a time until the expectant mug is filled to the brim.
And then of course the fancy hazelnut coffee mate, or the Irish cream, for that one fanciful effect for a good and seductive early morning brew.
But so few to that here.
The Philippine poor do not have the coffee maker but we have the 3-in-1 on the ready, that abominable fake coffee that promises some chemical manipulation resembling something better than the overpriced Starbucks.
Ah, your choice is one the writer and chemist Joven Ramirez has called NO-CHOICE CHOICE. Joven, of course, is a nomad like me.
Instant coffee, here you come!
PHL/4 Feb 2014