My Iligan : The Water City

            I was born in Iligan City, not that we live there, my mother who grew up there, decided that she will deliver me in a hospital in the city. It was actually a birthing clinic which still exists up to this day despite its anonymity. I was raised in another province and as fate would have it, I was brought back to the city for my education for a good eight years of my life and which was one of my happiest.

            I was not a very dedicated student, although school was competitive with the bright kids from all over the province, I mess around with the cool guys. To me it was all about adventure. Sometimes we skip school even to the point of climbing the tall fence of the university, evading the watchful guards and escaping from our bitter confinement. We go out, for the sake of going out, gallivanting around town with our pink uniforms.

            NPC or National Power Corporation in Maria Cristina, Ditucalan is where one of my classmates live. Her family has two huge rambutan trees that bear the dark-red fruit with its sweet, fat and juicy meat. That was by far the best rambutan in my whole life. Their place was cooler probably because of the surrounding dams that store water for the hydroelectric plant or because it is situated on the hills. From her, place is Tinago falls which is just about 45-minute walking distance. If you were in our age you will not bother with the walking much less the time and the distance. If Maria Cristina has its rambutan, Tinago has its succulent marang. I come to deduce that the fruits growing in the area are suffering from obesity but in a good way because the pulp of the marang are so fat and thick and white and tender. It is so delicious I can eat it in two counts.  But the marang is not really our priority. It’s the falls. You can’t see the falls from the top of the cliff, because the mountain is so covered with dense foliage and the falls hidden in its own mystery. We climb down the 80 degrees slippery slope with wobbly knees, wet from the moisture of the forest and our own sweat. The falls is named Tinago, which means hidden in English. One can view it only after reaching the foot of the cliff. The adventure in climbing down unfolds like a stage’s curtain which is lifted slowly for the audience’s thrill and mystery. By the time you reach the foot of the cliff you will be too exhausted but as soon as you want to drop dead from exhaustion and from the bruises earned from the fall and the slips, the sight of the falls steal every pain and exhaustion. The huge amount of water drops from an obscure corner of the mountain which is why it is hidden from the view above. There are smaller falls, a cave, and natural springs where we drink water from and that juts out from the rocky cliff in every different directions. It makes the sight so happily engulfed with falling water, here and there and rainbows sometimes two or three of them form from the corners of the cliff cascading with the shower of waters. I love the sight of the rainbows better and of course the stupendous volume of water from the major falls and its trimmings of tiny falls and springs but I am scared of the depthless dark blue waters. There are boulders and rocks on the sides of the cliff that are so naturally arranged as if it were constructed for swimmers with a nasty sense of adventure. I never attempted to climb the heights much less dived into the pool. Old wives tales has it that while huge snakes ply the cliff and into the dark waters, the pool also claims life from time to time, most of them that drown were never to be seen again. Tinago falls is not advisable for people with heart and respiratory problems, because if climbing down was difficult, the going up is unimaginable, it challenges stamina, endurance, strength and flexibility – like a total body workout. Once you get to the top of the mountain you wished you had not come at all. Omega pain killer however will do the trick. And the next thing we know, a few months after that, we’re back in the same destination.

            Buhanginan Hills is that place where the City Hall is nested. It is a destination for tourists and locals at night for a view of the city lights. It is also our destination, for everything and nothing. It’s actually a far distance from our school but we walk all the way going there. I don’t think we ever love walking but we love the thought of walking together and telling dumb and not so-dumb stories and laughing. Come examination time, we make it as an excuse to stray away from school. Our schedule was arranged with free hours just like a college schedule which we use to go to beaches of our choice. This time we don’t chat so much. We take one comfortable corner each and take our study time from there.

            Iligan is a place where there is too much water at a stupendous volume. When I studied scientific swimming after high school, I frequented Timoga, a cold spring resort with swimming pools. I took the night schedule with an instructor who rarely dips himself in the waters, afraid of the cold. He conducts instruction beside the pool while we were submerged in the water shivering. There is no such thing as scarcity of water because the water in the pools flow continuously, which is a good thing because you are assured that dirt and germs have at least drained themselves into the outlet.

            I will forever be attached to Iligan City, the place where I first opened my lungs to breathe and with its flowing waters, I first learned to swim and breathe properly, half-submerged.