I woke up with a runny nose and a slight chill brought upon by a night lacking in oxygen, reduced to inhaling the cold fake vapor of the air conditioner inside the small room I rented. I thought about sleeping till early afternoon; I felt weakened by a virus I caught somewhere. Yet, the urge to cross San Juanico Bridge into the province of Samar was a decision that felt as if it had already been written in stone. For good or for ill, I had to make the crossing, as I have planned it many times—walking back along the whole 2-kilometer stretch of the bridge from Samar and back again to Leyte.

I dragged my butt out of bed and into the hot shower. Dizzy spells and all, I grabbed my backpack, headed to the main terminal, and boarded a van going to Basey, Samar. I sat beside a young woman with a boyish haircut; she seemed new to the place like me. She spoke in Tagalog when she asked the driver certain directions. A few minutes later, the van was filled with passengers. I sat at the back with just enough leg space for me to feel a protruding piece of metal pointing sharply at my knee. 

As the van rolled along, I could see the imposing steel structure of San Juanico Bridge from a distance. My jaw dropped as I stared at the impressive structure which was then above us, as the van stopped near a checkpoint outpost manned by members of the Philippine National Police. The young woman with the boyish haircut got off the van and, knowing I am a traveler passing by, told me to "enjoy your trip." (You can find out what she did next on this post). The trip lasted at least half an hour, and soon we were driving along a sleepy town with old houses on both sides, entering the van terminal at Basey, Samar.

I was starving, so I decided to look for a cheap carinderia when a group of tourists asked me if I wanted to be a part of their group going to Sohotan Cave, located inside the Sohotan National Park. They offered me to pitch in for the total cost of the motorboat rental, guide, and entrance fees. I would have loved to go with them because it was an opportunity to visit the place at a lower cost, but I was feeling too sick at that moment, so I politely said no.

After I ate a small serving of pancit, I dragged my feet around the town. I saw the old church of Basey (Saint Michael Church), which was locked from the inside that morning, so I just circled it and proceeded to walk the side streets. Passing by rows of old houses, I found out that Basey is popular for its exquisitely handwoven mats. I stopped by a random bench and sat beside an old man facing a community health center. There was a long line of people by the entrance; most of them were young mothers carrying their babies, and an old woman, stone-faced with watery eyes staring blankly into the distance, caught my eye. 

Just like on cue, the old man smiled at me. I told him I'm Tagalog and was just passing through. Pointing at the queue of people, I asked him, "Libreng pagamot?" (Free medicine?) He nodded and said, "Sa tanda kong ito, ngayon lang kami nagka-ganyan dito. Programa ni Pangulong Noynoy." (At my age, we have only experienced free healthcare like this just now, because of this program by the Aquino administration).

We talked for a few minutes before the old woman from the line called his name. He excused himself, leaving me to ponder how critical I often am of the administration. For all its structural shortcomings, I realized that in a random, quiet municipality like Basey, its presence was genuinely being felt. The health workers who are volunteering for the government's health programs are truly helping this nation move forward. Sadly, these grassroots government programs and heroic efforts by volunteers often go completely unnoticed by mainstream media. In a landscape frequently filled with stories of misused funds and bogus operations, the quiet reality I witnessed in Basey serves as a vivid example of exactly how taxpayer money ought to be spent.