Vacation

Netnet Camomot

IT was after 12 midnight and we were at Avenue Grill having a drink or two.

I, apparently the only female “drinker” in the group, was the one having “a drink.” The guys were the ones moving forward to the “or two,” three, four, and more drinks.

The pulutan: peanuts, kilawin na kambing with peanuts, and tuna “billy” as in Billy the Goat. The last two are not the real names of these dishes–the guys were the ones who christened them with new titles.

This could have been another night in Cagayan de Oro for our group of Cagayanons. But this was not in CDO. This was in Cotabato City.

Upon learning that I had been there, Gold Star Daily Associate Editor Cong Corrales commented on Facebook: Pasalubong! And when I asked him what I could possibly bring home from there, he said, Bala.

It didn’t help that on the day of our arrival, a news-worthy incident happened at the South Seas Mall starring a security guard and a customer who wanted to enter the place with a gun which the latter eventually fired. Well, this was secondhand info coming from our welcome committee. By then, we were already inside the Estosan Garden Hotel where we would stay for five days and four nights. It was too late to decide whether it was safe to go to Cotabato or not. We were already there. Better make the most out of it.

But to be welcomed with news on a shooting incident was like making our worst Cotabato nightmares come true: Oh, no! Guns!

A few days before that, there was the rice issue in Kidapawan which happens to always have Cotabato attached to it, thus, the more the Cagayanon cowered in fear, determined to never visit Cotabato forever and ever.

We were the enlightened group–two of us grew up in Cotabato, our driver-friend constantly traveled to Cotabato and insisted we would be safe even if we travelled at night, and another friend kept telling us there was no need to request for an escort from Cotabato. With them in our group, there was no time to be afraid.

And how would I notice the danger if I was asleep most of the time, thanks to Bonamine. I didn’t even mind the 170 and more kph that our driver-friend preferred to cruise with. Another friend called this kind of driving as fast and furious–yes, like the movie.

There is no nightlife in Cotabato City. Good thing a friend called up someone who suggested Avenue Grill and that’s how we ended up there. Otherwise, we would have bought soda, fruit juices, nuts and chips at a convenience store at Alnor, and feasted on that while seated outside a coffee shop nearby. That cafe was about to close when we arrived there at, what, was that 11pm? We were rolling our eyes like, What the…?

Jollibee and McDo were not open 24/7, so, yes, we could have kissed the ground that Avenue Grill sat on.

If only the tuna belly were less salty and the kilawin less crunchy. But downed with drinks, both seemed fine as they all sated our thirst for any kind of nightlife in Cotabato.

I wanted to ask about the city’s history–where one particular bomb exploded, the location of that other bomb, and if the bombers were caught afterwards–but I didn’t want to attract bad vibes.

Instead, we went to the Grand Mosque, which prompted us to ask about their other tourist spots. But I didn’t hear our tour guide’s reply, for I was busy taking photos of Timaco Hill.