It was a double edged-sword, actually. Imagine, it seemed forever to reach Dumaguete and Siquijor by way of land from Cebu. The whole stretch made me feel so tired. And it was a torture for anyone who, like me, was fasting.
My brother Muslim told me that travelling adults were exempted to fast but I tried my best to do mine and keep it intact until September 21. That was the torture part.
Food of every kind swamped me during the course of the travel. My friends insisted that I break my fast. Food suddenly appeared every now and then. Out of their bags. Out from hawkers. Out of everybody. You know Filipinos love to eat when they are tensed. I was alright.
We stayed at Rex's house in Dumaguete last Saturday. Dumaguete is in fact a good place to break fast. Food choices was not a problem.
Sunday came and we braced ourselves for another stretch. This time, to Siquijor. The mad sea made us groggy. I declared that the ferries going to Dumaguete and Siquijor are not real men. They swayed all thoughout the trip and back. Like some ladyboys we saw everywhere.
I succumbed to temptations when our gracious host in Siquijor offered us fresh buko. I texted my adviser if it was okay to eat fresh fruits and drink fresh juice. He told me that I am not a Muslim and I should not consider myself as one. At twelve noon, I thirstily grabbed the buko juice and had my fill. It was heaven. I broke my fast more later towards late afternoon. The invisible cloak was abandoned.
Despite the same torture on the way back to the route we travelled, I again took my fasting seriously, doning my invisibility cloak one more time.
I arrived home intact. A gift from Azary, waiting for me.