How My Trip to Bukidnon Became a Journey of Faith

Below is the narration of my travel journey going from Manila to the Monastery of the Transfiguration in Bukidnon. The trip starts with a one and a half hour plane flight from Manila to Cagayan de Oro, followed by a 45-minute shuttle going to the city proper. Then, this is followed by a two-hour bus ride from Cagayan de Oro to Malaybalay, Bukidnon. A 15-minute short multi-cab or motorela ride completes the trip and brings you to the doorstep of the monastery. 

I had been writing about various places or destinations I've been to in this blog. This particular trip was not for leisure travel, but for a spiritual retreat. The post below is a letter I wrote to my friend because I wanted to share the details of the journey I went through just to get to the Monastery. Originally, I did not mean to post the letter here. But I thought that travel was not just about destinations, but also about the experiences that change us. The actual journey itself changed me and taught me to overcome my fears. I hope that one day, another female solo traveler would read this and be inspired to feel the fear but follow her heart anyway.   

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We were lucky to have this view on Day 2, where the fog covered up half the mountain, making it seem that the mountain was floating in the air. :) 

Dear P,

I'm finally home. My trip to Bukidnon was indeed life-changing and I have you to thank for it because you invited me to go there. As always, you are the Lord's instrument to me and for that, I am and will be always grateful. 

I know you laughed when I told you how scared I was to travel for this trip. But it's true. I was looking for peace and quiet, a time to get away from the noisy and busy Manila, when I thought of taking you up on your offer for a visit. I grew up, being taught and always hearing that Mindanao was a place of strife, a place where it was not peaceful or safe. But I was confident when I contacted you because I knew you'd fetch me from the airport and accompany me the whole way. 

When my visit to your mission was canceled, I thought of canceling the whole trip. In fact, on five different occasions, I almost did.  A Chinese-looking female traveling solo in Mindanao --- it sounded like a recipe for danger. My dad freaked out, as expected. My friends cautioned me against it. Why take the risk? It was just another place and I could seek my peace and quiet elsewhere. And I did think to myself many times, "It's just a trip. There are many other alternatives. Why stress yourself over this one? Why do you need to go there...and go there alone?"

The days before the trip were really stressful for me. It felt as if there was a battle within me. On one hand, I was consumed with so many fears and anxieties. I am normally a careful traveler, but never has my imagination run this wild. I had very visual images of being kidnapped, of riding a bus that would be hijacked by rebels, of being bombed by terrorists and dying a violent death. I dreaded being lost and feared being forced to walk along the highway, not knowing where to go. I could not argue with family and friends who were against my trip...because their fears were mine as well. 

But on the other hand, something deep, deep within me was gently nudging me to go. I couldn't explain why. It just felt like I was meant to go there. I wondered what surprises await me there...and whether these surprises would be good or bad. 

Four days before the supposed departure date and after countless flip-flopping of the mind, I decided to go. I booked my plane ticket. I tried to research a lot, but  not much was written about how to get to the monastery. And as you know, I even used Google Maps to check out the route. Oh the wonders of technology and how it helped me! Google Maps has a 3D feature which shows 360 degree views and I was able to see the public market and the highway as you described. Seeing the place and being able to take note of the landmarks ahead of time gave me some comfort. 

Sunday morning came. It was the day of my flight. I woke up to exploding sounds in our neighborhood which I thought were gunshots. Later on, I realized that they were firecrackers. Nevertheless, they spooked me out and again, I battled with the urge to cancel the trip. To make matters worse, a storm was coming in that day, ready to hit Mindanao. Sigh! 

Thankfully, I got to the airport on time. I said a prayer, asking for a safe trip and kind souls to help me on the way. Strangely, from that point on, I felt calm. It was as if I knew that I would be protected, even if so many external factors pointed otherwise. 

The flight was unexpectedly smooth, considering the threat of a typhoon. There was slight turbulence, but the captain often assured us that there was nothing to be concerned about. Upon landing, I found the airport shuttle right outside the gates, as a fellow travel reviewer told me. I settled into my seat and enjoyed the quiet ride to the city.

Our shuttle driver sang the operatic "The Prayer", complete with Italian lyrics! :)
I was too nervous to take any pictures, so I have to resort to my amateur drawings. :) 

Coincidentally, I learned that the thin middle-aged man who was taking the same shuttle was on his way to Malaybalay as well. He was getting off at the same drop-off point as I was. I asked him if I could just follow him to the right bus. He was slightly surprised at my request but promised that he would escort me to the entrance. I found his reply strange. Wasn't he going to take the bus as well?

We got off at the bus terminal and true enough, he accompanied me to the entrance and told me to pay three pesos for the entrance fee. Then he went on his way in the opposite direction, off to buy some items in the market nearby. I had thought that my tagging along would not be an inconvenience to him, since he was going in the same direction. All along, he had other plans and went out of his way to help me. I was touched and thought that my prayers were being answered. 

I found the right bus and was truly glad it was clean, new and air-conditioned. The young bus conductor couldn't speak Filipino well and kept talking to me in Bisaya. I found that amusing, but also realized that we could still communicate anyway, despite the language barrier. At that point, I had totally relaxed, or should I say, I had totally surrendered. I decided to trust that God would guide my path and that He would let angels come to help me at the right time. 

After the two-hour ride, I finally got to Malaybalay's bus terminal. This was the portion of the trip which scared me the most. Because the Monastery was still eight kilometers away up a hill, I was quite unsure how to get there. The guesthouse master, Dom C, had volunteered to fetch me from the bus terminal when I arrived. As luck would have it, I arrived on a Sunday when all their drivers were off-duty. Instead, Dom C told me to contract or hire a multi-cab to bring me there.

I know you told me to just take the public multi-cab and alight along the highway. The bus conductor told me the same thing. But I got confused when Dom C suddenly texted me to go to the NEW monastery, not to the OLD one. All my research flew out the door and I had no idea what he was talking about!

I approached a guard and someone who was wearing an ID. I asked them if they knew where I could contract a multi-cab. They seemed puzzled that I would get one entire multi-cab, considering that I was alone. They suggested I get a "single motor" instead, and of course, I said yes, thinking that they were referring to a motorela. The guy with the ID asked how much I was going to pay and I said P200, which was the amount Dom C advised. He volunteered to take me instead.

So out he comes, with his motorcycle bike! And no helmets! I have never been on a motorcycle before, much less ride on it along the highway. I took a step back and considered backing out. But then, I thought that maybe this was the answer to my prayer. Before I could hesitate any further, I jumped on and just requested kuya to please, please go slow.

The motorbike ride! 

He obliged me, driving at 40-50 kph. Along the highway, we encountered a lifeless man lying on the street, with his motorcycle on the opposite side. The policeman was rerouting the traffic, trying to secure the scene of the accident. Kuya said the man was probably driving too fast and slipped. I tried not to look at the victim and tried harder to refrain from telling Kuya to please go at 20 kph instead.

Finally, we reached the area where we were supposed to take a left turn. Kuya drove past it, but I recognized the landmark from Google Maps. Turns out that Kuya has never been to the Monastery! He was thinking of another place in San Jose! But he was a sport and quickly stopped and asked some locals for directions. They instructed us to make the same left turn I was referring to. See, so my Google Maps research had some value!

We followed the road, not knowing what was ahead. We strained our eyes for the iconic pyramid structure, but couldn't see any. The clouds were dark and light rain was starting to fall. At that point, I was resigned to my fate and was just glad not to be walking alone in the rain.

Finally, we see the monastery's gate at the end of the road. Yey! I told the guard that I was there for a retreat and he motioned us to proceed inside. What faced us inside was ... another long stretch of road going up a hill. It felt like we were crossing another mountain just to get to the new monastery. (The distance is actually 1.3 km. On a different day, I tried walking to the gate and it took me about 20 minutes.)

The long road up with no end in sight! 

When we finally saw the tip of the pyramid structure, we both rejoiced. Kuya drove a little faster, excited at the prospect of finally reaching our destination.

Dom C was waiting for me and saw me alight from the motorcycle from afar. He called my cellphone and asked incredulously, "Is that you on a motorbike?" He was aghast at the thought of me riding at the back of the motorcycle along the highway.

We entered the guest house and though it was already late, Dom C had lunch laid out for me. When we entered the refectory, I was immediately greeted by the image of the Divine Mercy, with the words "Jesus, I trust in You." My heart leaped at those words.

I suddenly realized that my retreat in Bukidnon begun long before I arrived there. The whole journey was not just a trip, but a constant invitation for me to surrender and trust.