Best Month Ever!

***Posted by Alan, Part 5 of our 25th anniversary series.

Like everyone, I’ve enjoyed those days in my life that were just great days.  And they don’t have to be monumental days, like your wedding day or the birth of a child.  For example, a day-trip to the Mendocino coast last year as a family (plus dog) was just one of those simple but perfect days.  But defining an entire month that way has only happened once for me and that was, of course, February of 1985.  I still consider it to have been the best month of my life.

I didn’t have a job to go to, a lawn to mow, a church calling to fulfill or any other obligations.  I was in the Philippines but did not have strict missionary rules and a strict missionary schedule to keep.  I just set everything aside for a month, enjoyed being in the tropics while it was winter back home, and, of course, spent every minute I could with Marivic.

The guy from West Bountiful and the girl from Cebu hadn’t actually become “serious” about each other until after I returned from my mission.  However, the proverbial flood gates were opened by May of 1984 and by the fall I couldn’t stand the wait; I mean there were times I wanted to be with Marivic so bad it hurt.

So when we were finally together in February I wanted to do nothing but be with Marivic.  Honestly, I cannot detail the events of each day of that month.  I didn’t keep a journal.  But I remember the things we did together.  We saw movies (Dune, The Last Star Fighter, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom), we ate out, though not usually at any place fancy (Shakey’s Pizza, Sunburst Fried Chicken, Fairmart) although I do have a receipt showing that on February 14^th we went to a restaurant on Gorordo Avenue called Sizzler (not the American version).  On another night Dodong Nunez let me borrow his car and I drove Vicvic to the Cebu Plaza Hotel where we had an expensive steak dinner then rode the glass elevator to the top of the high-rise for a romantic view of the city lights.

One day, Marivic decided we should skip a day and not see each other because she was worried I’d grow tired of her if we spent too much time together.  That lasted for about three hours until I couldn’t stand being apart from her another minute and tracked her down, hanging out at the LDS Institute building with other young women.  I was relieved to learn that she didn’t think I was being a stalker but in fact was happy I showed up, and away we went.

More often than not we would just hang out at the Cuyos house like a couple of love-struck kids.  Our favorite spot was a hammock-style swing in which the two of us fit very nicely.  My future mother-in-law one day actually admonished us only half-joking “Alan… Vicvic… remember the Temple.”

Alan and Marivic at Pepito's Beach, Lilo-an, February 1985.
(The era when men wore short-shorts, and Alan was stylin'! :-P )

We also went to the beach several times, once with her entire family in her mother’s home town of Liloan, north of the City.  Later we returned to Pepito’s Beach Resort, just the two of us.  It was a fantastic day.  We swam, floated in an inner-tube and relaxed in the shade of the palm trees.  I apparently didn’t spend enough time in the shade, however, because I ended up with a pretty good sunburn.  That night I decided I would check into an air-conditioned hotel near the home of my hosts, the Nunez family.  I just wanted seclusion, peace and quite and cold air for that one night while I suffered through the pain.  I assured Sister Carmen Nunez that her home was very nice and comfortable but I just wanted to recuperate.

The next morning, almost at the crack of dawn, a young house guest/helper of the Nunez (Mario) was sent to the Cuyos home on an invented errand.  In reality, he was sent on a “mission” to make sure Marivic had been home with her family while Alan was spending a night in a hotel room.  Of course Marivic was home like a proper Filipina and returned missionaryJ.

It was during a day-trip to a place called Hadsan Beach on the adjacent island of Mactan that I actually proposed to Marivic.  I didn’t record the date but it was probably in the 2^nd week.  It’s kind of unusual proposing to someone when you know, and she knows, that a “fiancé” visa has already been applied for.  But it was a beautiful setting and happy moment even if a ring wouldn’t be on her finger until Bountiful.

Marivic encouraged me to speak with her father about our plans and to get his blessing.  Of course, it was all very obvious, but it was important to take this step.  With Marivic by my side I told him I loved his daughter and I wanted to take her to the States and marry her.   Brother Cuyos (who I later came to call Papa) was not a man of many words but he told me he approved and that he trusted me and softly asked me to take care of Marivic.

And so the wonderful month of February rolled on.  It was all very remarkable that we had gotten to this point.  In fact, some might call it crazy.  Two months earlier Marivic was on her mission in the Northern Philippines, I was working at Channel 4 in Salt Lake.  Now we were courting in Cebu and in another two months we would be kneeling across the altar from each other in the Salt Lake Temple.

We had actually considered being married in the Manila Temple.  But I had already submitted the application for a fiancé visa for Marivic to come to America, and a “wife” cannot immigrate on a “fiancé” visa.  Oh, the complicated red tape of U.S. Immigration. 

When I arrived in Cebu on February 3^rd the plan was for me to stay for two months, wait until Marivic got her visa finalized and bring her home with me.  But by the third week, after learning the U.S. Consulate in Cebu does not process immigrant visas and that Marivic would have to go to Manila, we decided it would be best for me to return home at the end of the month, get a job and prepare for our wedding.

And so, 25 years ago this weekend, on February 27^th, 1985, I was back on that familiar BAC One-Eleven, Philippine Airlines Jet, bound for Manila; a one hour flight.  But this time Marivic was with me.  We would go to the U.S. Embassy to start the final visa process then head to the recently dedicated Manila Temple so that Marivic could take out her Endowment.

Four weeks earlier I had been greeted in Manila by the mother of our Friend Lynn Nielsen who had misunderstood my travel plans, thinking she was taking me that day to her home in Quezon City.  This time the very kind Sister Villadares was there once again and finally, along with Marivic, I made the 13 mile trip across EDSA (the biggest highway across Metro Manila) to her home.  On a side note, just 12 short months later EDSA would be the scene of the massive “People Power” revolution that toppled the Marcos Regime and thrust Corazon Aquino into the presidency.

After eating and freshening up at the Villadares home, Marivic and I rode a jeepney along the very busy Quezon Avenue all the way into Manila, about 10 miles.  As we approached the embassy I was now seeing for the first time the most famous and historic part of the Philippines including Rizal Park, site of the execution of national hero Jose Rizal at the hands of the Spanish; and the Manila Hotel where General Douglas MacArthur resided for years leading up to World War II.

At the embassy we quickly discovered that the romantic and urgent desires of our hearts were unremarkable and certainly not a priority; “Take a number.”  After waiting about an hour Marivic was able to schedule an appointment to return for an interview.  The fiancé visa application I submitted in Salt Lake City had been approved but she still needed to jump through a number of frustrating (and in one instance humiliating) hoops in Manila in order to actually receive that visa.  It turns out it would be weeks in coming.

We made our way back to the Villadares home to shower and change for the Temple which is a small, six-spired edifice in Quezon City, just off EDSA.  It had been dedicated exactly five months earlier while Marivic was on her mission.  This would be the first time she had ever seen an actual LDS temple, much less go inside of one.  A close friend and fellow Baguio missionary, Helen de la Cruz (now Helen Costales), accompanied us and served as Marivic’s escort. 

The Manila Temple

This day, Wednesday, February 27^th, 1985, was one of those memorable and remarkable days filled with new experiences to the point of overload.  Manila is no Cebu City.  It is a massive, bustling, crowded major Asian city.   And so the entrance to the Temple was like a portal into another world, a familiar world, a peaceful world.  The best part of the day was when Marivic and I sat together in the Celestial Room for the very first time.  In the Celestial Room I was not a tall, skinny American kid and she was not a small, brown Filipina.  We were just Alan and Vicvic.

Alan and Vicvic at the entrance of the Manila Temple 

The last day of the best month of my life was our last day together in the Philippines:  Thursday, February 28^th, 1985.  We went to a huge mall in Makati, ate at McDonalds (where the marvelous invention known as “extra-large fries” was not yet available) and visited the LDS Church offices where Marivic saw a number of people she knew and where I was to pick up an important document from Utah that Marivic would need for her visa application.  I was actually quite distressed about getting that crucial form until my mother informed me that she could send it to the Church offices instantaneously using a miraculous machine I had never heard of called a “facsimile” or “fax” machine. 

The document arrived and it was time to rush to Manila International Airport for my 4 p.m. flight on Philippine Airlines.  Joined by Helen de la Cruz, Marivic and I took a taxi to MIA where I had just minutes to check in, get through immigration and run to my gate.  After spending all day, every day together for the last four weeks it was time for Marivic and me to say goodbye.  She would remain in Manila, a guest of Helen, who generously hosted Marivic until her visa was approved which would hopefully be within a week (it wasn’t).

The long, lonely flight home to Salt Lake (via Tokyo and San Francisco) would be one of the longest days of my life, literally.  A month early, crossing westward over the International Dateline caused me to skip an entire day.  Heading home is the opposite.  The sun goes down on Thursday and when it rises again it’s still Thursday.  The exhausting effect of the air travel is the same, however.  My parents greeted me at gate B-9 that evening with the winter coat I had left with them at gate B-1 four weeks earlier.  And so ended the best month of my life.  Waking up the next morning would be the beginning of one of the worst.

*** We don't know exactly when the next parts will be published,  but we know there are at least a couple more before April 26 (our actual anniversary). We'll let you know via Facebook or e-mail, but also feel free to keep checking!

If you missed previous posts you can find them here: PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4