My Art Studies class goes to Rizal-Laguna

5:45 am. Mark's cellphone sends out its alarm. I jump out of bed, scramble for my watch tucked below my pillow, and after reading the time, rush to the bathroom with my towel, soap, and shampoo.

6:00 am. I am half-way through the Freshie Walk, that long stretch of alley from Melchor Hall to AS, when I bump into Girlie, a classmate who's going on the same field trip.

"Late na tayo," I tell her.

"Oo nga eh. Pero di pa naman siguro aalis 'yan," she says--it's always Filipino time. And she's right: from afar, we see the entire class only beginning to board the small bus.

6:30 am. The bus leaves. We all doze off, until Kuya A begins his cacophonious chatter that would last for the entire trip.

7:30 am to 11:30. We visit the Blanco Family Museum. (The Blanco family members are all painters, trained by the patriarch, Jose Blanco. The youngest in the family, Peter Paul, has begun painting when he was only 11 months old.)

We then proceed to the Morong Church, take lots of pictures (some of them I will be posting here soon), then go to Taytay for lunch, where I finish my meal of caldereta, chopsuey, and two (or more) cups of rice.

12 noon to 4:00 pm. Demonstrations on paper-mache making. Visits to two more historical Catholic churches. Tours around the old town of Paete. Buko pie.

5:00 pm to 8:00 pm. Trip back home. While everyone sings with the videoke in the bus, I close my eyes in silent prayer, my heart full of awe and thanksgiving to the Lord. He has, after all, given me the rare chance of forgetting my other concerns even for a day.

And yes, I am still craving for my dose of hot chicken soup.