We got front seats in a non-airconditioned bus, and we had five-and-a-half hours more to go on the road. It was sweltering hot outside, and a throbbing pain in the head was threatening to ruin what remained of the afternoon and of our high spirits.
Before this, we had flown in from 300 kilometers away to Cebu, and prior to that, had frozen in another bus for another 400 kilometers. The day was waning fast, and, after more than a thousand kilometers, we still had an ocean to cross. Probably the most unnerving of all was that, tired as we already are, we had nowhere to sleep just yet. My head began to throb violently at that nagging thought as we stretched farther and farther along a seaside road, whisked past fields and mountains, and zipped steadily down to the northern sea.
The only thought that clung to me then? Malapascua, you had better be worth it.