The child in me came out to play last Saturday. And, boy, did the little rascal have a blast! It didn’t matter that, the next day, he left in his tracks a blob of sore muscles and sun-burnt skin–all on a body about to hit thirty in a few days…
But that’s getting ahead of the story.
Yesterday some of my co-workers and I took Jelle, our Dutch guest, to the highlands of Tagaytay. We wanted him to see the famed Taal volcano—“the volcano within a lake within a volcano within a lake… within an island within a country within a continent within a planet.” (Okay, so I stretched the usual tourism spiel.)
On the grassy field of Picnic Grove, overlooking Taal volcano, all seven of us had a hearty lunch of salad, tofu with veggies, pork and chicken adobo, and mango float—gastronomic delights summoned to mouth-watering existence by Beng’s culinary magic!
From where we sat, we could see the Tagaytay sky dotted with all sorts of shapes, and on the ground, beneath the colorful specks, people craned their necks and tugged at strings. Old and young, they all looked so happy. I decided I wanted part of that action. So after lunch, I set out to do something I had never done since eight: Fly a kite!
(To be continued)