The first time my brothers and I travelled abroad together
For my four brothers and me, our recent trip to Taiwan was like a trip around the world. It gave us a kind of high that we only thought would only be experienced vicariously. It was our first time to be together in a foreign land; for most, their first time to be overseas.
The experience was something we did not see on our vison board—simply because we live a modest life in Gulod. Who would have thought that one fine day, at the tail end of winter in Taiwan, five brothers would don their colorful bubble jackets and strut their way through the streets of Taipei and Taichung—with the memories of their childhood on their mind.
When we were kids, we prayed for good health and three meals a day. God was good, we never missed a meal even if we lived in our cramped abode with just makeshift kerosene lamps. If we got sick, there were herbal plants for a quick fix. If we wanted to watch Voltes 5 or Gulong ng Palad, we had to watch it outside the house of a neighbor, peeping from the jalousie windows that got shut when the other kids got unruly.
Our parents, both farmers, introduced us to a life that was austere but was blessed with abundant lessons that would become our matriculation in life. We never complained. We were taught to be grateful for every day—whether that day had plenty or none to celebrate. More than that, we were taught to be authentic—with our thoughts and our ways in life. A life of pretense was frowned upon, never encouraged to grow and thrive inside our lawanit house.
If Candida and Cresencio Sr. were still alive, as Kuya Ronnie, Kuya Gaddie, Odick, Rod, and I agreed, they would be part of the excursion and we would have feted them with all the tenderness that love could afford. But we settled with the thought that they were cheering us on in heaven as we almost missed our high-speed rail to Taichung or as everybody beheld the spectacular view of Taipei from the 89th floor of Taipei 101.
It was raining outside when we reached the viewing deck of Taipei 101. Rod was excited to count the seconds to reach the 89th floor from the fifth floor of the skyscraper: “Thirty-five seconds going up and 38 seconds going down,” he said, in disbelief of the speed of the elevator. The view outside was misty and shadowy but to the hearts that only knew joy and gratitude that moment, the vista was sparkling, glistening, beautiful. Awesome! The Little Prince was correct: we saw something that only our hearts could see. The gloom of the outside world was nothing to the appreciative hearts of my brothers.
Our Taiwan trip was meaningful because it was a victory trip. It was a colorful Post-it note for us that brotherhood is an important pact between us and God. And though we are not perfect—five boys with strong yet funny personalities each going on a trip—we still uphold that family time is family love. And family love is something that is passed on. It’s not learned overnight. It’s a process of sharing failures and celebrating successes together, from the time we were born to the present. The Taiwan trip was a success trip—because we chose to make it happen.
If the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall, perhaps the most visited national monument in Taipei, was a normal sight for many a traveler, for us, it was a monumental testament to our high. The memorial hall was a sight to behold for my mother when she celebrated her 75th birthday in Taiwan. We posed on the same spot where Candida had her photo op—we celebrated her, we feted her with love. I blew kisses to heaven hoping that the warmth of our brotherhood would reach her and Papang.
Because of our Taiwan trip, we all agreed to celebrate hallmark moments of our individual lives in foreign countries—all together to the affordable destinations. The Taiwan trip came to being when Kuya Ronnie’s daughters Nikki Tenorio-Lucy, a chemical engineer, and Paula, a registered nurse, decided to treat their father to a trip abroad for his 60th birthday. When I learned that Nikki’s husband Howell Lucy and Paula’s longtime boyfriend Erick Fernandez were joining the trip, I volunteered that Kuya Gaddie, Odick, Rod and I tag along.
Nikki made the arrangements swiftly and breezily. (Nikki should have a travel agency because of her delightful excellence in booking flights and accommodations—plus DIY land tours!)
On the day of her father’s birthday, Nikki booked a yacht that we shared with other passengers to Sun Moon Lake. Kuya was candid in his reminisces. He was now on a stylized boat for his 60th birthday. It could have been a simple outrigger when he was 15, the time when he would wake up before the crack of dawn, half-asleep as he rode a carabao that pulled a cart that would be the container for the suso(small shells for ducks). The suso was the neighborhood fishermen’s haul for the day and a mound of it was in the banca. Kuya would jump to the banca, having a field day choosing shrimps and other varieties of fish that would be our food for the day. He did that job for years.
Our ascent on the bus to Qing Jing Farm, a high-altitude (2,000 meters above sea level) tourist attraction in Nantou County known for its European-style landscapes, death-defying mountain views, and sheep grazing, was symbolic in a sense that the trip laid it out before us that the Tenorio brothers were literally going up in the world. Once settled at the farm, we watched a horse show and a sheep show under wild cherry blossom trees abloom with fuchsia pink flowers. The cold mountain breeze kissed us. It was chilly but we were insulated by the brotherhood we kept.
The almost labyrinthine eskinitas of Jiufen, where restaurants, cafes and thrift shops elbow each other, was no match to us as we stuck to each other. We did not get lost. When one brother went to the toilet, the others followed. Our colorful bubble jackets helped in locating one another. The food order of one was the same order of the others. Though shopping was an inviting site every day for five days that we were in the city, we only bought our pasalubong on our last night at Ximending, a bustling shopping and entertainment area in Wanhua district, where our three-star hotel was located.
But the happiness that we had was five-star, no doubt.
I enjoyed looking at the joy on my brothers’ faces; it was electrifying. We were overjoyed as the opportunity to travel abroad together, for the very first time, was both novel and magical.
Taiwan treated the Tenorio brothers to that kind of high.
