Thank you, Iloilo

"You made everyone believe that they could climb." 

 These were Hanna's words as she and Bea drove me home last night. 

You made me realize that all the fears I've had growing up were learned. My paraphrase of what Alex told me as she recalled what I said in Bouldering 101: We only have two innate fears -- loud noises and the fear of falling. 

"You can be a food blogger." Thanks Matt. My taste buds know only salty, sour, and sweet. Thank you for believing in me. I never lost my faith that you could send the boulder problem you've worked on for weeks. Some days you made me question that faith. But you always kept your eyes to the skies. 

Some of us just stare at sky. One person seemingly has the ability to bring it down--Jamie with her power scream as she climbed. It was enough to drown all her demons and ours, too. But her eyes never showed fear. Scared but focused. I believe the term for it is concurrent processing. 

 I'm also processing the time I've spent in Iloilo. I've lived here for almost a year. I first visited Iloilo a couple of years ago. That's when Sophie taught me to never give up my Sicilian Bishop. 

I usually use words to remember things. My visual memory is not the finest. But I can still clearly recall Bea's face after I told her that I have been thinking about my father everyday since he passed many years ago. 

 Bea glanced at me sideways, casually, as she downed a round of beer: "He must have been a good dad." San Miguel Pilsen. Such a clean beer. 

It was a difficult relationship. But he was a good father.

Speaking of being a parent, I'm closer to being parents to some of our climbers than being their older brother. I gloried in the times I made them cringe when I said stuff like "bruh this foothold is so sus" or "how do you like my climbing rizz?"

My favorite thing to teach was finding joy. But I never said it out loud. It's the reason why I never pushed anyone to climb hard. "Good is good enough." 

I barely bothered anyone with how they choose to climb a route. It's better to execute the wrong beta correctly than to do the right beta poorly. 

My second favorite thing to do was asking people what mental illness they have. No, not really. My second favorite thing to do was getting to know everyone as people. 

[This is the part where I paused to test myself how many names I could write. I got to 20 relatively easily. I can still squeeze my brain and get to at least 30. It helps that there are at least three Kai's] 

So I need to stop right now because I realize I can go on talking about my personal experiences with the people I've met. 

It was a good run. We always leave a part of ourselves behind. The part of myself that will stay behind would like to say, "See you later, best belayer." 

(I just randomly recalled I still have a tab at Kalye Kahlo for a Spanish Latte. Sorry Jicel!)