SIQUIJOR

Once upon a time, an army of fireflies protected the Kingdom of Katugasan from intruders.

The fireflies were conjured from the depths of the sea by Lucia, the most powerful of the mambabarangs and spiritual adviser to Datu Kihod.

Thus was how it became known as Isla del Fuego.

In 1783, the Augustinian Recollects came back and laid claim to the island by building the Church of St. Francis of Assisi from 1795 until 1831.

Lucia is long gone, presumably beaten to death by her own grandchild, but the church remained standing to greet me as I finally set foot in Siquijor.

The missionaries could have landed at Paliton Beach in a white boat and welcomed with a heart-shaped arch.

I did but through an ancient multicab with a defective battery and was welcomed with a snack of vinegar-laced fresh sea urchin.  

Lucia could be all of the tiny fishes at the spring that flows from the roots of a 400-year old enchanted balete tree so out of respect, I did not dip for a foot spa and offered an offering of special balbacua instead. 

In appreciation, her spirit ignited the dead battery of our rickety multicab. 

I came mainly for the San Isidro Labrador Church (circa 1884) and Convent (circa 1887-1891) that have been both declared as National Cultural Treasures and nominated as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

There, Lucia greeted me as the pink lady walking through the church aisle who I later saw gazing from the window of the convent. 

Lucia was the young lady with a floral top taking a photo at Level 3 of the Cambugahay Falls, the woman in all white (cap, shirt, cut off jeans) crossing from Level 2, and the girlfriend in a modest black two-piece bathing suit who was checking her phone in Level 3.

I can feel her pushing me as I made my way up the steep 135 steps where my driver/guide, under her spell, waited to take me to a lunch of kilawen at tolang malasugue that she caught herself for Jacs Kitchenette.

11.3 kilometers away is the Church of Our Lady of Divine Providence that was built in mid-1800s and it is there that I understood her presence and intention.

She is the Black Maria and she wanted me to bring home Lilibeth's pan de bisaya and to pay homage to the spirits of the Cang-Isok House, the oldest surviving house in Siquijor currently under renovation, that was built on the same years as the church where she is now enshrined.

I was supposed to have lunch at the Larena Triad Coffee Shop but my driver/guide told me the price is treefold there and took me somewhere else cheaper and better.

Still, we were led there while looking for the site of Siquijor Masonic Lodge No. 418, the islands of Bohol and Cebu visible from its view deck, and it was there where Gmail informed me of my flight being rescheduled from May 1 to May 5.

Lucia has left us but I was finally able to buy a pack of Marlboro lights.

I betted on the lotto in Siquijor and with her blessing, I might finally be able to win the grand prize and buy myself a plane.