Mothers, of all creeping creatures of the earth, should know all about their territory.
My mother? No thanks.
Travel guide is not popular in our little town called Allen (named after American General Robert Allen). Mainly because the town has no tourist spot, you know, the kind of place you see in TV or in magazines.
By the way, Allen stands at the right middle of the Philippines. It was named after an American because he was the military governor in this place when Americans defeated Spaniards (don't worry, the place is safe now).
Instead of a travel guide, every-time I don't know what to do I ask my mother where to have an adventure. And because she hates when I destroy things in the house when bored, she will suggest a place she is not familiar with, just to get rid of the noisy little man for a while.
Back when I was seven or eight or nine (I have a roughly constructed childhood memory), my mother said I should try Guava Hunting beyond Sagorong (a place where locals get water from a small cave). So I invited my two neighbors-enemies. I hate them. But they're big and strong, and they knew the way to my mother's suggested destination. I didn't have a choice (at least at that time).
Their names are Eddie and Lito (I'm not sure). As I said, they're big. And when I say big, I mean having a body that is not normal for a twelve-year-old boy. I thought it's a great idea to have them so that when a predator comes out of nowhere, they would fight it and be eaten alive. I was sure I would escape death, because by the time they were fighting, I would be running home fast.
(Part 1 of 2)