2. Tsunami

I left the office about 5 PM and planned on stopping at Dolphin's on the way home for some necessaries. But when I got there, the store was closed, with typhoon shutters over the front window and the lights off inside. Strange for a Saturday afternoon.

I headed up the road and stopped at Joeten Dandan instead. The store was a hive of activity and I had to wait in line behind 4 people. While I waited another 5 or 6 people lined up behind me. A man in front of me joked how they were all buying beer and water. Obviously down to his last spare change, he had 4 beers and 2 small bottles of water. The woman directly in front of me had similar items. I was too tired to give it any thought.

I took my bag of purchases out to my pick-up truck and saw two lanes of traffic, bumper to bumper lined up from the light at the Shell station westward past the Joeten parking lot. What was going on?

I chatted briefly with Presc Tenorio, who'd been shopping in her family's store and learned there was a tsunami warning. Okay. Now it made sense.

It was almost 6 PM by the time I drove past San Vicente Church. The parking lot was jammed. And next door, the land fronting the Kumoi family house had been turned into a free-for-all parking/camping/picnicking area. Cars were parked at angles and trunks were opened, people were hanging out, eating their dinners and chatting.

The road was still crowded with cars as people looked for anywhere to pull over, now that they had reached higher ground.

And for a moment I had a twinge of fear, hoping my daughter would be home safe and sound, feeling the separation as if a tsunami was crashing into me at that very moment.

Darling daughter sat at her computer, not a worry.

I telephoned a friend living in the Golfcourse area (Chalan Laulau). She knew about the tsunami warning, laughed at the hysteria, said an EMO guy had his government car parked next door doing nothing-no warnings, nothing. If the tsunami was going to hit, it would arrive between 6 and 7 PM. Meaning right then. She laughed again.

Later, I dropped my daughter for plans with a friend, back down near the beach, in San Antonio. The radio stations all played music and there was no more information about the warning. I headed a little north and went walking along the beach path, watching the ocean for any signs of tsunami. The lights on the path were not turned on. In an hour of walking, I saw only two bicyclists and one jogger on the path. Along the way, all but one of the pala-palas were empty and dark, and the one with lights had only a few guys hanging out drinking.

Along the horizon five big ships lurked, silent and unmoving. About a half dozen fishermen swam inside the reef in the lagoon and some near the shore, their dangke flashing on and off as they signaled each other or speared fish.

No rush of water. Only a steady cool breeze from the East.

Pacific.