Hurry Up, Coron is Calling
We’re back in Canada. “Crap, it’s getting cold.” My body is protesting loudly with every snap, crackle and pop of an aching joint. It’s early October and the last three months have felt like being blitzed in a blender as we worked day and night to pretty up our house for its next potential inhabitants.
When we went back to Coron for the third time we had a goal to find property but we had no idea if we’d find what we were looking for. There were just too many unknowns. All we had was determination and hope. After about four crazy hot and humid weeks, ten adventurous trips to various properties, and the odd mishap, we found the land of our dreams at the end of a punishing dirt track and across a fish filled stream.
Under open skies, surrounded by hills, a refreshing breeze cut through the cruelty of a tropical heat wave. A carabao passed us on a trail hauling lumber for a bridge being built by hand. The farmer next door was fertilizing his rice fields. It was as if we went backwards in time. This was the rural Philippines of my past memories, this was life in the province. The air was clean, the land was green, and puffy, white clouds hung seductively in a bright blue sky. There was something honest about it.
The land had its shortcomings but we were willing to overlook them. We knew we had to make a deal and went back and forth to the Municipal Hall with its antiquated systems, an adventure in itself, gathering every document our lawyer wanted. Things take time in the Philippines, we knew it and yet it slipped away. We couldn’t secure the property the way we wanted. We reluctantly left Coron with a flimsy agreement and an awful lot of uncertainty.
We returned home with purpose. Years of living comfortably meant we let home projects go unfinished and maintenance put off. There were much more important and fun things to do than to repair some baseboard or paint the kitchen. Now all those seemingly unimportant things piled up into one gigantic heap of things to do. Normal life was put on hold. Instead of making me one of his tasty curry dishes ‘the Chef’ was mixing grout. I stopped icing cakes to patch walls.
We had a plan and a deadline. We thought we could do it on our own but a last-minute hernia surgery threw a wrench in our plans and we ended up recruiting our family. It didn’t help that out-of-town friends and family visited in the midst of all the chaos. We pushed ourselves from morning until night. I’m a perfectionist but also a realist so it wasn’t long before our motto became “Good Enough.”
Now our house sits in a state of perpetual perfectness – who lives like this? – I blame all the home improvement shows on TV. And so each day we rise, arrange the home stager’s cushions on the bed, wipe away all the spots on the mirrors, watch the autumn leaves turn colour and wait, wait for our house to sell. All we can do is wait. In the meantime our iPads keep dinging. Messages and emails keep coming in. Coron is calling.