It’s funny how things come full circle.

I am currently in Antique, a province in Panay, while I write this. I’m here for a week before I participate in my first 200km Audax in Iloilo, and so I’m doing last-minute rides to nearby municipalities to get my bearings and to see people who saw me grow up… or rather, helped me grow up.

One of them is my yaya (nanny in Tagalog) who took care of me from infancy until I turned thirteen. She’s in her hometown taking care of her mother, but when in Manila she takes care of another family’s children. I took this opportunity to bike from the house where I’m staying in Patnongon to visit her in Valderrama.

It was a surprise.

Going to Iglinab, Valderrama

The barangay of Iglinab, Valderamma is just over 20km away from Mabasa, Patnongon with an elevation of around 292masl. The route runs alongside the Carangaran River with beautiful mountain views, stretches of farmland, and several barangay.

Since I used my bike, it took me around an hour and fifteen minutes to get there; nearly two hours if you count my stops and asking for directions.

Patnongon is relatively flat with forgiving climbs, but as Valderrama is mountainous, there were some rolling hills to cover.

I set off at 8:30am with a motorcycle convoy behind me. That was a rookie mistake; we should have left earlier.

Thankfully, there were several sari-sari stores dotting the road, and several barangay were near to each other, so it was not hard to do wayfinding or look for Coke for a much-needed sugar rush, and I was not as drained as I expected to be. The heat was still bearable as a good chunk of the route was covered by trees.

What got to me was the amount of rolling hills I encountered. As someone who lives on flat terrain and bemoans any gradient above 4%, this roller coaster ride was not something I welcomed. Still, for the sake of training for Audax, I pushed through. At least I didn’t have to worry about cars and other bigger vehicles, as they were few and far between throughout my ride, and motorcycles kept a good distance away from me.

Somehow people are more considerate in the province. Manila drivers can learn something. But I digress.

The ride was, overall, smooth and pleasant. Had we started earlier though, we may have enjoyed cooler weather and more time to rest.

Cycling Through Childhood Memories

We reached my yaya‘s home just before 10:30am. I almost didn’t recognize her. In my memories, she had dark curly hair and had a fuller body. Now her hair is longer, salt and peppery, and tied up in a ponytail. She wears glasses now, too, and had shed some weight. Also, I’m taller than her now.

Well, it’s been more than two decades since we last saw each other, so things do change.

What didn’t change was her enthusiasm. She still had that high pitch voice when she gets excited, still had that same smile, still had that gusto for telling stories (and… uhm… pinching my flanks). All familiar qualities; I knew it was her.

We hugged, the years of each other’s absence seeped through my skin. We proceeded to set up chairs and tables outside her home.

Over lunch, I was listening to her talk about her memories of me. According to her, I was such a crybaby growing up. But I was diligent and brave… and extremely stubborn.

“Very determined to live,” she remarked.

Oh, how the severely depressed and undiagnosed-with-bipolar-disorder teenage version of me would have scoffed at that!

She told stories of me climbing the old duhat tree in our yard in my old house, and I’d pick ripe fruits while sitting on a girthy branch. She fondly recounted the time when I said I was finally old enough to sleep on my own (that was a few months before she decided it was time to go). She also mentioned that I once hated vegetables; upon seeing me chow down the veggies in front of me she knew I had indeed grown up a little.

I repressed so much of my childhood that I barely remember these small but seemingly happy recollections. I thought I had grown up too fast, too soon. Apparently my yaya gave me a chance to enjoy life as a kid.

Then something popped up.

“Ya,” I said, “hindi mo ba maalala na ikaw ang nagturo s’akin mag-bike?” (Ya, don’t you remember that you were the one who taught me how to bike?)

She was lost in thought for a moment, and then smiled.

“Oo nga no! Iniikot kita sa park at sa kalye natin,” she replied, “Tingnan mo ‘yan. Ito na pala ang bunga.” (Oh yes! I used to bring you around the park and our street. Look at you now. This is the result.)

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A post shared by Myta Santiago (@mytach0ndria)

You see, from seven to ten years old, I biked every day after school or after my tutoring session (because I was a dumb kid in elementary) because my yaya encouraged me to do so. The bike I had had training wheels, but eventually had them taken out because… well, I wanted to live life on Epic mode. She kept my balance while I was pedaling until eventually I could balance on my own.

She recounted that I looked so happy biking on the street. “Parang kahit saan ka pupunta, masaya ka nagbibisikleta.” (It’s like anywhere you go, you’re happy on a bike.)

I looked at my bike, leaning on the ledge of their porch. I looked at it with pride. From a kid’s bike with training wheels to an endurance bike (and a gravel/touring bike). From cycling the length of our street to going on quarterly Laguna Loops. From biking inside Bel-Air Village to claiming the bike lane along EDSA. From staying within the safe confines of a subdivision to biking to La Union from Makati.

And now, I biked to visit the person who taught me how to bike. Life had, indeed, gone full circle.

This realization made me feel like I’m grounding myself into the person the younger Myta might have loved hanging around with if we met each other today.

My only regret was not biking all throughout my life, as I traded my wheels for other interests like theater. Probably things would have been different.

But here I am.

My bike trip today has taught me that life has a way teaching us that, despite how we think about themselves now, there’s some good memories to look back to, no matter how small or insignificant they may seem. To us, they may be trivial, but to others, they shine like gold.

And in these moments we are reminded that, even if we see ourselves as broken and dull, we will always be golden to people who choose us.

Maybe it’s these memories, not just trauma, that shape us into who we are today. If we let them.

The conversations and memories continued and our hearts full of happiness and nostalgia, but it was time to head back. While I wanted to bike the way back to Patnongon, my legs were giving into fatigue from my 29-hour busy-ferry-bus-ferry-bus trip to the province, so I resorted to doing bimodal transport via tricycle from the main town of Valderrama to the highway along Ilaures, and then taking a jeepney from the stop to Mabasa.

I made it back to the house with new memories that made the older ones more meaningful. I’m looking forward to more reconnections like this, as I try to figure where I belong in this world.

Ending with the Beginning

I am aware that this first post isn’t really about cycling, but a reflection of how my cycling journey started. It took one person to push me on my bike, and now I’m pushing through the hills and mountains of the world… and my life.

Audax. Gran fondos. Bike tours. Even the everyday trip to my favorite cafes. It was all laid out in the past. All I had to do was bike my path.

And however you enjoy cycling, I hope you bike your path, too.

So… if you’ve reached the ending of this blog, welcome to my little nook on the Net!

And thank you for reading.