#gerbies

[queenie-of-misrule]

Play time

[sunshiny-aspirations]

I have the cutest gerbies 💜

[edjtravelogues-blog]

Baguio [Part 1 of 4].

It was all Jax’s idea.

I don’t even remember how or why he even broached the subject, but I do recall sharing his excitement. Baguio has always been special to me and my family, and a trip there has always been a welcome retreat, but I haven’t been there with just friends, much less for the Panagbenga Festival. So, I was sold the moment the idea was brought up.

Then the prospect of another trip caught the fancy of everyone at the office. It hadn’t been long since the last outing—it had only been just a month—but that one didn’t exactly live up to its promise. For all our excitement over Laiya last December, our weekend just got rained out, and we never really got to enjoy the beach like we wanted. So, office funds or not, Baguio was to be another shot at an epic getaway.

And epic it all was.

  Thursday | 24 February 2011

We were so excited that our weekend started two days early: Friday, the 25th, the anniversary of the first EDSA revolution, wasn’t even declared a non-working holiday this year and yet there we were, essentially taking the entire Friday off. (Of course we took care of all our dues first!) We’d like to think of it as our reward for being so industrious and productive that week.

And so we left the office for dinner even before the clock struck 5:30. THAT was how excited we were. Our bus wouldn’t even leave till 10!

The early birds: Killing time at Starbucks UP-Ayala Technohub (Clockwise, from top left: Laila, Maien, Me, Jax, Nix).

  The five of us met up with Tristan and Julius at the Victory Liner station in Cubao. It was just us seven traveling that night. It would’ve been an all-IDEA affair had Arjay joined us, but he sadly had to back out on account of personal reasons. We couldn’t just let the extra ticket go to waste, though, so we invited our friend Nix to come along (he had just gotten back from the US to take a break from his graduate studies). And, since we were in the habit anyway, we also invited KC, Chua, and Jong—so-called “friends of IDEA”. But they had other preoccupations and couldn’t leave just yet (the pitfalls of not being in IDEA, as I’d like to believe); hahabol na lang daw sila sa Saturday.

Our bus boarded right on time, and it wasn’t long till we were on our way.

  Friday | 25 February 2011

It was just past 3 in the morning when we got to the Victory Liner terminal in Baguio. That was probably the one time in this trip that I wouldn’t have minded being late; I wasn’t able to sleep all that well on the bus.

“P^t@*# I&@ ANG GINAW!!!” I exclaimed as I stepped out into the cold Baguio air. I’m not exaggerating when I say the cold sent chills to my bones. Nanunuot ang lamig!

  Victory Liner Terminal.

And so the first thing I did was buy a beanie for my head from one of the souvenir shops in the terminal (I, too, was surprised it was open at such an ungodly hour). I tried the first one I saw—a black one.

Lola Tindera immediately commented, “Bagay po, Sir.”

Of course she’d say that, so I checked my reflection in the mirror. I had been sporting a two-week-old moutee then, a radical departure from my almost-always clean-shaven look, and naturally I was concerned. “Kaya lang mukha po akong holdaper,” I mused.

“’Di bale po, Sir. Ang importante hindi niyo naman tototohanin,” came Lola Tindera’s reply.

Grabe si Lola, ni hindi man lang nakuhang mag-deny.

*****

We couldn’t proceed to the hotel just yet because our reservations weren’t for until noon, so we decided to wait it out at the terminal. We kept ourselves warm with mami and goto—and a pack of playing cards we bought from a nearby 7-Eleven. Nope, there wasn’t going to be any sleeping, at least not yet.

Breakfast is best served warm: my beef wanton mami.

  Sunrise. We took a jeep to Session Road, and from there we walked all the way down to Harrison Road and towards Burnham Park. We didn’t know exactly where Kisad Road and Venus Parkview Hotel were, so we asked some cops for some directions...turned out we had a lot more walking ahead of us, but that’s ok. We had all the time in the world.

  Venus Parkview Hotel.

The receptionist said she couldn’t check us in just yet because our rooms were still occupied. She said we could wait in the lobby in case the occupants decided to check out early, but it would be best to just come back before lunchtime. In other words, we could either rest in comfort or tour the city with all our heavy bags in tow.

We didn’t really intend to wait it out, but the choice was made rather by default. Within minutes, before we could even decide where to go next, people had fallen asleep on the couches. I myself must’ve dozed off, and when I woke up everyone else was fast asleep…!

It was my chance for revenge; somehow they—or at least the Gerbies here—could always manage to get a picture of me sleeping, but not today. Today, I collect. The sleeping IDEA people? Collateral damage. XD

Revenge is best served cold (yes, pun intended).

  It was around 8 AM when everyone woke up from his/her nap. It was such a gorgeous day, and the air was cool and crisp even in the morning sun. We all knew we had to get out of the hotel, and fast. But of course we didn’t want to carry our luggage all around town; that’s why we were there, taking a chance, in the first place.

The receptionist said that they didn’t have any rooms or lockers for our stuff, but that we could leave them all there in the lobby. We found a hidden corner by the mirrors and took out all our valuables; it was a risk we were all just going to have to take.

  Burnham Park.

We were there for only two things: to have strawberry taho, and to kill some more time.

We approached the first vendor we saw for the taho. I can’t believe I haven’t tried the stuff in all those times I’ve been to Baguio! It was good, especially because the strawberries were fresh (Manong put an extra berry in my cup, much to Maien’s chagrin/envy). The strawberry syrup, instead of the usual caramel-y arnibal, also put a nice, sweet twist to this childhood favorite. I wish the taho vendors in UP would pick this concept up, although I doubt it would be as good.

Strawberry taho. Sarap!

  And now, to kill some time, Jax treated all of us to a boat ride! I hadn’t done that in Baguio since I was a kid, so yeah, I was excited!

But, what we did was more floating than boating or rowing; no one really knew how to. We were all embarrassed that we couldn’t steer our boat and stop it from just spinning out there on the water, but we ended up just laughing it all off and chalking it up to “epic fail”.

Julius said it was soooo embarrassing.

  (Up next: Bell Church, Camp John Hay, and “the best tequila sunrise everrrrr”.)

[edjtravelogues-blog]

Bicol [Part 5 of 5].

[Originally posted on 14 June 2008, 8:57 AM]

  “I’ll go ahead.”

We went out the same way we came in; the old man was truly God-sent. It was just half past 9 in the morning when we started down the path; it was already almost 1 in the afternoon when we started making our way out. Mukhang inabot nga ng tatlong oras yung isang oras namin. Buti na lang hindi kami inulan.

The hike back was a bit easier but no less dangerous. We had just enough energy to endure the hike; but, alas, we now would have to endure each other. People insisted on stopping to rest, and I just couldn’t sympathize. The old man was our only chance out of there, and no matter how much I wanted to give up or rest, I just couldn’t, because he waited for no one—or maybe it only seemed that way, because I found myself at the back of the pack again. I desperately wanted to just keep him in sight, but, of course, I just couldn’t leave my other friends behind. Oh, the endless frustration!

I had earlier scolded Lyndree—rather harshly, I might add—for taking pictures at inopportune moments. “‘Wag muna ngayon, please,” I snarled. We had no time to stop for more pictures; God knows we didn’t need any more of those. What we needed was to just keep on going. So I gave up on the laggards and just moved ahead, before I could yell another invective at them. I emerged from the forest and into concrete steps we shouldn’t have taken. Some of my other friends were already waiting there, and although I was grateful to see the lake again, I was in no mood to celebrate. I took a quick look at the path we should’ve followed…still a virtual dead-end. This time, neither vendor nor her fish were there. Something about the scene was creeping me out, and I felt uneasy just standing there.

Finally I couldn’t take a minute more of the forest, of the trail, and of all the waiting. I said a curt “I’ll go ahead” to my friends, then I just ran.

  Rizal Beach.

It was past 3 in the afternoon when we met up with Tita Ditas at Rizal Beach. I don’t know if the food Tita Ditas prepared was just that good (because it really was), or if we were just too hungry, or if we were still spooked by the events of that morning, but no one talked about the Bulusan Incident over lunch.

***** 

Everyone’s spirits, including mine, slowly picked up, the traumatic hike momentarily forgotten as we hit the beach.

Pictures lang pala makakapagpaligaya ulit sa amin. One day we’ll look back at the Bulusan Incident, and should we decide to turn all that drama into a soap/movie, we can take any one of these for the posters we’ll put up all over EDSA—maybe even for a huge billboard in Guadalupe.

And the pictures become more mature and less wholesome.

Clockwise, from top left: [1] “Muling Ibalik”, the teleserye; [2] “Ang Mga Lihim Ni Niccolo”, the fantaserye; [3] The Leading Ladies: Mga Bidang Kontrabida; [4] “Love Will Conquer All”, starring Dette and Nikki.

  It was fast growing dark, and soon we had to pack up. We wouldn’t have enough time in the morning to buy pili nuts and other pasalubong, so we had to rush before the stores in the market closed. Not that we were in any hurry for the day to end, but we really wanted to put the drama behind us. Mostly we just wanted to rest.

  Lessons Learned.

Later that night, we were all huddled in the “azotea” just talking about that morning’s weirdness. Someone mentioned first how weird it was that we forgot to bring with us the hiking guide we printed out from the net, which almost everyone took turns reading just the night before. Over dinner we checked the guide again, and it clearly stated (even highlighted, I think) that the path just went around the lake. How we managed to forget that crucial detail was beyond us.

It was also weird that no one in the group thought twice about going up the steps and following the trail—plus, when it was already obvious to everyone that we were lost, no one thought about just heading back the way we came. And, apparently, it wasn’t just me who noticed the disappearance of the fish vendor (some didn’t even notice her at all). “She could be an engkanto,” someone proposed. Others admitted to also feeling a bit uneasy.

Come to think of it, it was just a series of strange coincidences. At one point during the hike we heard a strange sound—more like a call—echoing in the distance; we all debated if it was human or animal, but we’d never know for sure. Also, there were always a lot of brightly colored bugs in our trail. Some would just buzz in our ears and then fly off, as if taunting us. Then, Nix said that after he silently prayed for help or a sign or whatever, the bugs suddenly just stayed away. And then people didn’t want to look at their pictures anymore, for fear of seeing things that were not supposed to be in the frames.

It was clear to us what happened. Everyone pretty much agreed with the “na-engkanto” theory.

*****

We thought that maybe it was just a test of our friendship, and maybe even of our character. Looking back, I learned a couple more things about my friends:

·         I saw a different side to Lyndree, Laila, and Diane. Although I know them to be mataray (NOT antipatika; there is a difference), they kept cool and composed throughout the ordeal. Not once did I hear any of them whine, especially Diane, who had the most trouble out of the three. I could tell they were also not having the best time, but they just took everything in stride.

·         Toti. I didn’t realize he could be so helpful and attentive. I still haven’t thanked him for taking my place in helping Diane. If he hadn’t, I would’ve totally snapped, and I wouldn’t have them all as friends anymore.

·         Dette and Nikki. I felt bad for Nikki, because this was the first time she went with us on a trip. These two had the most difficult time out there—and I sure got an earful of it—but it’s probably only because one didn’t want to see the other get hurt in any way. In the end they drew strength from their genuine concern for each other.

·         Prince and Carol. The newlyweds. I found it amusing when, at one point during the hike, they “quarreled” about what to purchase first. Carol wanted a new digital camera, which she insisted on getting the moment they got back to Manila, while Prince wanted a new TV (I think). What sticks with me, though, is how they looked after each other and everyone in the group. From the looks of things, these two are gonna make for good parents.

·         Jax. He played his “funny guy” role to the hilt, cracking jokes even as people were slipping (and crying). He’s such a positive person, always seeing the humor in even the most trying/traumatic experiences. Kahit corny minsan. Heheh.

·         Nix was the youngest in the group. Immature individuals probably would’ve gone crazy in our situation, but Nix kept his fears to himself, and he acted decisively when he needed to. In short he acted more maturely than most of us in the group; if he’d panicked baka nawawala pa rin kami sa gubat hanggang ngayon. We assured him that we don’t blame him for leading us up the steps, and we thanked him for leading us safely.

As for me. Syempre kailangan may pikon sa grupo—and to think I’m the second oldest in the bunch! Like I said, I only explode when things have gone way too wrong to fix—which had been happening quite a lot recently, actually. My YM status message just a few days before the trip even read: “Marunong din akong mapikon.” I guess the forest spirits just wanted to test that assertion. Still, it’s no excuse for the way I behaved. Therein lies a lesson I’d take away from all this: I need to learn how to handle my temper better when things don’t go as planned or as expected.

And we also learned a few practical lessons:

1.        Comment on the itinerary when asked; otherwise, you forfeit your right to complain. (Thanks for the lesson, Prince. It hit me squarely, and I apologize.)

2.        Buddy systems need to be planned more conscientiously: e.g., people who couldn’t swim shouldn’t go together; two strong individuals shouldn’t pair up; etc.

3.        Wear footwear and other clothing appropriate for the scheduled activity; that is, flip flops are not meant for hiking, so bring mojos.

4.        “Nakakatakot si Edj kapag pikon.” (Ever-funny Jax contributed this one, and I take no offense.)

*****

We said a prayer before going to bed that night. We thanked the Lord for keeping us safe. And we thanked Him nonetheless for the experience, because all in all it made us realize what we’re made of.

    Sunday | May 04, 2008

We woke up early to see Toti off. Just like in Palawan last year, he had an earlier return flight than the rest of us. Unlike last year, he didn’t blink back some tears. Hahaha! Other than our return flights to Manila, though, Sunday was also reserved for pasalubong shopping. What’s a trip to Bicol without buying any of their abaca products?  But that would have to wait till we get back to Legazpi. (And, lo and behold, I still couldn’t haggle!)

Over breakfast, Tita Ditas mentioned how it was such a waste that we didn’t have more time to explore Sorsogon. We hadn’t even been to Subic Beach (or was it Island?) yet, which is famous for its pink sands. We gladly said we’d like to go there in the future, too.

“Sige po. Pero pwede po ba kaming mag-stay ulit dito, kahit nasa US na si Nix?” we invited ourselves. That’s one other thing about me and my friends: medyo makapal din kami, ‘no? Hahaha!

Thanks, Tita Ditas!

*****

On the whole, Bicol was a bittersweet experience. It made me realize just how fast time has gone. More important, no matter how old I’ve grown, there’s still so much room left to grow.

Now maybe I can tell what it is about Bicol that will make it stand out in my memory. To date, it has been the only one where the good and the bad come in equal measure, and in equal measure I must take them. Mayon, the fireflies, and the whale sharks…all that will have to be tempered with the ugly memory of Bulusan, as well as the sad thought that yet another one of us is leaving.

As we rode in the van from Sorsogon to Legazpi, and in sharp contrast to the bright blue weather we had at the start of the trip, the rains that had been threatening to pour the entire weekend finally came down, perfectly punctuating the end of our story.

[End.]

[edjtravelogues-blog]

Bicol [Part 4 of 5].

[Originally posted on 03 June 2008, 9:15 PM]

  Home Sweet Home.

After a rather late lunch at Kuya Ato’s in Donsol, we drove to Nix’s house in Sorsogon City. He and his mom, Tita Ditas, were gracious enough to let our big group crash their humble place for the weekend. We’ll always be grateful for their warm and homey reception.

That’s one of the good things with our barkada. Everyone comes from or has a relative somewhere, which assures us of free/low-cost accommodations (and, at times, even meals) nearly wherever we go. We stayed at Jax’s aunt’s place in Ilocos in 2004; Lyndree played host to us in Pampanga when we watched the giant Christmas lantern competition in 2006; and, most recently, Diane’s familial connections in Palawan afforded us a free night at a beach house. I would love for my friends to come drop by Nueva Ecija sometime, but there’s not much to see in our landlocked province, save for acres and acres of flat and boring rice fields. (Maybe as a stopover on the way to somewhere?)

(clockwise from left) [1] At the “azotea”; [2] Happy Halloween! [3] Dining Room lights.

  Saturday | May 03, 2008

Despite having camped out at the “azotea” for the night, we all slept rather well. No wonder everyone was in such high spirits when we woke up. We had another long day ahead of us: a trip to the Bulusan Nature Park in the morning and a stop at Rizal Beach in the afternoon.

The stops at Bulusan and Rizal Beach were sorta last-minute additions to the itinerary. We were already drafting our plans about a month before our scheduled flights, consulting each other via email like we always did for these trips. Caramoan came up as an option for Saturday, but it was almost immediately ruled out because it was too far from Sorsogon and Albay. So Prinz suggested going to Mt. Bulusan for a bit of hiking and asked if it’d be okay. No one replied to the request for comments, so it was taken as a given that we’d be going there.

We’d learn our lessons later.

  Ominous.

It was a cloudy Saturday morning, very much unlike the clear and bright weather we had just the day before. The drive was smooth for the most part, but the road just deteriorated more and more the closer we got to the Park. There’s still a lot to be done to make the Park a full-fledged tourist attraction. (There wasn’t a tourist/information center of any sort, and the toilets could make you sick.)

And the clouds still hadn’t parted when we got to the Park, and we could barely see the volcano across the lake. Meanwhile, a group of older, grandfather-type tourists were just making their way out of the trail that supposedly just went around the lake.

“Madali lang, sundan niyo lang yung path,” some of them shared. “Mga isang oras na lakad lang, pero dahil mga bata pa kayo mas mabilis niyo ‘yun makukuha.” Then they hopped into the kayaks they rented and paddled off across the lake.

I personally would’ve wanted to go kayaking as well, but the price was rather steep and no one else seemed interested. So off to the trail we went. Just then it started to drizzle; strange, it went just as soon as it came.

It really was rather ominous.

   It really wasn’t supposed to be a difficult hike. The concrete path was wet, probably from the previous night’s rains, but it was clear and well laid out ahead of us, and all we had to do was just follow it. There were no steep slopes to scale, whether up or down; our biggest worries were stepping over tree roots, or getting our sandals muddied. We were so confident and relaxed we’d stop and take some pictures after every few minutes.

“Mukhang aabutin ng tatlong oras ‘yung isang oras natin,” I joked.

A few more minutes into the hike, we came across a fish vendor near one of the unfinished structures that lined the lake’s banks. She had all her fish just laid out on the table, with no bilao whatsoever. We politely declined to buy fish and paid no more mind to her as we posed for more pictures. By the time we were done and started on our way again, she had already disappeared from sight. The funny thing was that the fish she was selling were still on the table. I remember thinking, “Why would she leave them there just like that?”

All the weirdness started from there.

  See that leftmost photo? We should’ve just gone straight down our original path, so that the lake would always be to our left. At that time, however, the path just seemed to have disappeared.  But we were told to just follow the concrete path, and when Nix found the steps to our right, we all just went and followed him up without hesitation.

The path seemed right at first. It was concrete, after all. So we went about our hike just enjoying the view and the company: pictures here and there, our loud voices echoing through the forest. Then things started to get more messy and difficult. We suddenly ran out of concrete, and we found ourselves hiking through slippery mud and rocks. That should’ve been the first indication that something was amiss.

Still we went on. We probably figured that, since there was an evident trail, a lot of other people must’ve gone through it. We could even trace out where people before us placed their steps. But as we went deeper into the trees, and higher up the mountain, it didn’t even occur to us that we couldn’t see the lake anymore—which was supposed to be the point of the entire sightseeing path.

The hike became increasingly more difficult. People started needing help scaling slopes. People began barking orders: "Dito ka umapak!" or "'Matinik 'yang mga halaman!" or "Ba't mo naman pinabayaan si Laila, Jax?!" Wisely we decided to implement a buddy system, and I paired up with Diane (her partner by default would’ve been Lloyd, her boyfriend, but he was in the US). Our mistake was that the more physically-able in the group all paired up with each other, leaving the ones needing the most help trailing behind them. Still, we figured it was nothing we couldn’t do; we already hiked through Echo Valley in Sagada, and except for the fact that we had no guide this time, this hike was probably no different. No more pictures from me from then on, though; my camera would stay in my pocket for the rest of the hike, because I needed both my hands to help Diane.

At one point, however, Diane stepped into a puddle, and for the rest of the way her muddied slippers would considerably slow us down. We fell to the back of the pack with Toti, Dette, and Nikki. Dette, I remember, was also having trouble with her footing because of her slippers, so she picked up a large stick and used it as her crutch. Meanwhile, Nix confidently led everyone else down the trail, saying in between stretches how it looked familiar from when he went hiking as a boy scout before. Later on he’d tell us that, inside him, he was desperately trying to hold on to his wits as he tried to figure out a way to deliver us from this mess.

Nix: He was the youngest in the group, yet in the end it was his maturity that pulled us through.

  Lost.

It finally dawned on everyone that we had gotten ourselves lost. I guess everyone suspected just as much when people started slipping here and there and dirtying up their shorts and their legs: the old gentlemen we talked to earlier all came out of the path with not a drop of sweat or a speck of dirt in their clothes.

I started to lose my cool much earlier than that. The trail had led us to a narrow log—a slippery bridge of sorts. Below it was a steep drop to only Lord knows where. Carol had a little bit of trouble with her balance, so she had to crouch low and crawl across the log. Some people found it amusing—Jax, for one, just had to take this picture—but I seriously didn’t see the humor. Here we were, hopelessly lost, and all people could think about was taking pictures?! I was growing sore by the minute.

At least she could still smile.

  “Mali nga yatang inakyat natin ‘yung steps,” I sighed. Behind me, Dette and Nikki echoed my sentiments and had a few choice words of their own.

It was just one obstacle after another after that. Bringing up the rear didn’t help at all. Everyone in front crossed each obstacle with relative ease, but with each one we fell further and further behind. At several points we couldn’t even see their backs anymore, and, as the one in front of the laggards, I constantly had to yell in frustration for people to wait up. A chill ran down my spine—and rage coursed through my veins—each time they didn’t reply.

Now, I may be a bit irritable, and very few things could really, really piss me off, but this just broke me. I grew grumpier as we continued, and whenever we’d catch up with the guys in front I’d just keep silent. I wouldn’t look at people for fear I might say something I’d really regret, and they, in turn, wouldn’t look at me; with such an obvious scowl on my face, who would? Toti must’ve even sensed my foul disposition, because he volunteered to take Diane off my hands and just let me go solo.

I clearly heard one of them say, “Tama na, pikon na si Edj.”

And that was the truth. It wasn’t just Diane and her slippers, or even other people’s incessant complaining, or what I perceived as the lack of consideration from the others out in front. It had been roughly two hours since we took that turn, and the end was nowhere in sight. I was thirsty. I had small stinging cuts all over my legs and arms. I felt helpless. I was scared. All I thought about was getting out of there, as I’m sure everyone did. But then no one ever thought about turning back around, either. Not that it would matter: we had already followed the trail for far too long.

Their faces said it all.

  We were on a descent when Dette’s walking stick snapped in half, and she landed squarely on her hand. We thought she broke her wrist, but she insisted it was fine. (The others out in front had no idea, of course, just as we at the back had no idea what they were up to.) Diane and Toti kept their composure and just focused on not slipping. But Nikki slipped yet again, and she told Dette and everyone within earshot, “If I die here tell my parents I love them.” At times I swear I even saw her cry. But all that didn't stop me from barking at all of them: "Mas madaling bumaba 'pag paupo!" (Nag-comment pa nga ako na 'wag nang mag-inarte, na mabuti na'ng makababa na marumi, kesa naman sa mamatay na malinis.)

We caught up with the others in front, and they were just standing there in the middle of a clearing. There was a small hut in the distance, where Nix was talking to an old man. I marched past everyone and towards Nix, who could only muster a weak reply to my questioning eyes.

“Ibang bayan na raw ito. Sundan raw natin siya pabalik.”

I stormed off and back to my end of the line, which I thought would now be the front.

“Ano raw?” they all asked my back.

“We’re fucking lost!!!” I growled, as if it wasn’t obvious enough.

I would remain deadly silent the rest of the way.

  (Next: Lessons learned. More of Day 3 and all of Day 4, in what could possibly be the concluding chapter of this series.)

[edjtravelogues-blog]

Bicol [Part 3 of 5].

[Originally posted on 03 June 2008, 9:15 PM]

  Friday | May 02, 2008

4:30 AM, to be exact.

I woke up to a flurry of activity around me. People were weaving in and out of their rooms and the bathrooms with their clothes and their towels. Some were packing their bags, while others had already changed into their swimwear. It was strange seeing everyone up and about, because, in all of our trips so far, I’m usually among the first in the group to wake up (could it be the reason why they always want a picture of me sleeping?). I guess I must’ve been more tired than I thought. It’s either that or I’m just really growing old.

  Breakfast at Kuya Ato’s.

We left the rest house at around 6 AM and drove a short distance to Kuya Ato’s house for breakfast. Kuya Ato is a close friend of Nix’s mom. Nix told us Kuya Ato used to join gay beauty pageants in Bicol but that he’d never really won. He probably would have if cooking were considered a talent, though. He prepared our dinner the previous night, and it was a sumptuous seafood feast. I don’t remember what the dishes were called, but I do know there was a dish made of pating (shark) and something that tasted like sinigang (sinigang na panga ng tuna?). The tangigue in lemon-butter sauce was good.

Breakfast was a more traditional affair, though. Corned beef, fried eggs, galunggong, and suman—it was more than enough, really. The best part for me was the hot chocolate. I think it was made from fresh tableas; mejo mapait, kasi nga tablea, but it also had a kick, like it had a hint of wine.

And we ate al fresco, which made everything taste a little bit better.

  It was too bad we couldn’t stay long, though. We had to rush to the resort to book early for the butanding-watching cruise. It was the tail-end of the Butanding Festival, and we figured there’d be a lot of other people to beat at the queue.

  Early Birds.

The ride to Vitton Beach Resort didn’t take long. We got there shortly before 7 and promptly registered for the expedition. We missed getting on the first batch by mere minutes, so we had to settle for the next group. To our dismay, the boats wouldn’t return until around 10.

I have to hand it to the people at the tourist center. They had a nice, working system to accommodate tourists. You’d first fill out some forms, pay at the cashier, and then they’d assign you a number for the boats. It’s as simple as that. (Plus, the queues were orderly.) They also showed a promotional video at the lobby about Donsol and the whale sharks; it’s on constant loop, so you could choose to watch it anytime while waiting, although the lobby had a limited number of chairs. You could even choose to wait on the shore like we did, away from the noise and the waves of people coming in, and you wouldn’t even have to worry about missing your turn, because they had a PA system to page you when your number was up. Wow Philippines talaga.

We had a long wait ahead of us, so people chose to catch up on some sleep.

*****

   8:48 AM. People were awake again. Some of them had already taken a dip in the water to cool off, others had chosen to remain dry, jump, and take pictures. See samples below.

From L to R:

[top row] (1) Dette vs. Jax. (2) Edj. (3) Toti vs. Dree, a la Matrix.

[bottom row] (1) Nix: Cartwheel or tapilok? (2) Bio-man! (3) The Lyndree Jump (aka, Bading na Bading for the Butanding).

  Before going on this trip, around the time Lyndree and I got back from Zambales, we talked about how jumpshots have become passé. Almost everyone’s jumping in their photos these days, and it’s gotten to the point where our own jumpshots were beginning to lack variety. But I guess we’ll never really tire of taking them, as long as we’re having fun—and as long as we still have strength in our legs.

When our strength did run out, we headed back to the tourist center. We still had about an hour’s wait, and already we’d seen the butanding video twice (it took all of twenty minutes, max).  We also checked out the souvenir stores to while away the time. I found a butanding fridge magnet; I would’ve paid 60 bucks for it, but then Jax came up behind me and said he’d already bought one for 50. I told you I couldn’t haggle. (It was a good thing I bought it when I did, though, because we didn’t find any other place that sold butanding fridge magnets. Dette learned the hard way and went home without one.)

  Butanding! Butanding!

It was already half past 10 when we set sail. Our group had to split up again. Lyndree and Jackson would rather join my group, because they both wanted me to take pictures of them underwater with the butanding, but the others wouldn’t have it. They needed Dree in the other boat so that they’d have at least two people who knew how to swim, just in case. In the end we just followed our firefly-watching groupings.

About 15 minutes into the ride, our boat slowed down to a crawl.

“Kita niyo ‘yon?” Kuya Alex, one of our spotters, yelled and pointed to a huge black shadow in the distance, lurking just beneath the water’s surface—our first butanding! Its spots became more discernible as we drew closer. Finally our boat was in position, just parallel to the butanding’s path. Kuya Alex instructed us to sit on the edge of the boat. We should jump into the water upon his signal.

I turned my camera on and adjusted the settings. Forget the life vest; I could swim just fine without it. But my goggles were fogging up, so I took it off again, reached down to the water to…

“Jump!”

And then I just froze. Before I knew it the butanding had already gone. Sayang!

What to do while waiting for a butanding? Why, take gratuitous pictures, of course.

  I was more prepared for the second one, though. I didn’t even turn my camera off anymore. About twenty minutes later, Kuya Alex again told us to stand by. Goggles and snorkel, check; fins, check. Kuya Alex said it was a young one, judging from its relative size and speed, so we had to move quickly.

This time I jumped into the water when told. Yet for all those preparations I still wasn’t able to take a decent picture of the thing! I saw it underwater, alright, but I just couldn’t keep up with it. The fins were weighing me down, and before I could even focus my camera, my legs were already giving up on me. I had to stop and gasp for air. So for the next dive I swore not to wear them anymore. (So much for renting them out, eh? That’s Php150 down the drain.) I just wished the people in the other boat were having better luck taking pictures of their butanding.

But, from the looks of these photos, it seems that wasn’t really their concern.

  ***** 

We’d already seen our third butanding and I still didn’t have a single picture.

It was getting tougher to spot the whale sharks. The boats tended to clump together in one spot; when one of them found a butanding, all the rest would follow the lead. Of course, that meant that all the eager tourists would crowd around one shark—despite the fact that the video at the tourist center specifically instructed people to limit the crowd to six per animal. It wasn’t very conducive for butanding-watching, really. Once or twice I was hit by some stranger’s foot or hand. I even spotted one diver (hey, you, in the blue boardshorts!) stupid enough to actually TOUCH the whale shark, prompting the animal to dive deeper to escape the attention. It seems all the people were scaring the butanding away.

Our boatmen wisely decided to pull away from the pack. And then we saw one whale shark after another. We even saw a pawikan peeking from the waves, and we asked our spotters if we could dive for a closer look, but they said it was forbidden. The pawikan dove right back down before we could take its picture.

For the fourth butanding, I asked Kuya Alex if he could pull me along with him in the water, the way he guided Nikki in the previous dives. That way I could just focus my camera and get a decent shot. I even wore a life vest so that I’d glide easily. Obviously it turned out to be a good idea—so good, in fact, that Kuya Alex obliged to pull me along again for the next one so I could also take a video.

The sixth butanding was the largest we saw; it was the size of a bus, maybe even two. And, like the cliché, the best was saved for last. Unlike the others, this one was literally just an arm’s length from me, so I couldn't really tell how large it was. And it swam oh so languidly that I didn’t even need to be towed along to get these awesome shots.

It was such a struggle to resist the urge to just reach out and feel its skin, its spots, its fins!

  On the boat, after relishing the giant butanding, Kuya Alex asked if we wanted to go look for some more. We said we were okay; that last one was more than par for the course.

*****

When we got back to the shore three hours later, the people at the tourist center asked us to answer their customer feedback forms, with questions such as (answers in parentheses):

How many butanding did you see?        (Six.)

Who was your spotter, and what boat did you use? (Alex; Aldred Joseph.)

How would you rate your spotters in terms of friendliness, knowledge of the butanding, etc.? (Excellent, in all respects.)

Not that they needed any more positive reinforcement, but the experience was truly one for the books. Never before had I felt prouder to be a tourist in my own country. Like I said, Wow Philippines talaga.

  (Next: But then things take a traumatic turn in Day 3.)

[edjtravelogues-blog]

Bicol [Part 2 of 5].

[Originally posted on 23 May 2008, 4:07 PM]

  Foreshadowing at Ligñon Hill.

We asked Mang Julius to drive us next to Ligñon Hill. It was no more than 10 minutes away from the airport, so we had enough time to make it back to the airport by 2PM to meet up with our friends. Mang Julius couldn’t take the van all the way to the top of the hill, though, so we had to walk. We promised we wouldn’t take long; Mang Julius also needed to be at the airport when the afternoon flight arrives so he could catch some other potential passengers.

We’d been walking up the concrete road for a good 15 minutes when we came across this small hut. Just then, a couple appeared from around the bend ahead of us. They were already on their way down the hill.

“Malayo pa po ba yung itaas?” we asked. We couldn’t exactly see where the road led because of the bend.

“Medyo,” the man replied.

“Pero may shortcut diyan sa may kubo,” the girl added. “Konting hike lang.”

I was wary of the shortcut because I wasn’t exactly prepared—or in the mood—for hiking. But before we could even pause for a break or to decide, Dree and Toti had already gone up and were fast disappearing through the path.

The hike wasn’t exactly difficult. The path was well laid out; there were clear steps, like stairs, so we were always sure of our footing. But it really was a steep climb, and if it weren’t for the occasional “handrails” (i.e., rope tied to tree branches) the hike would probably be risky. Plus, the fact that it was scorching hot made the hike even more unbearable.

“At least this is the only hike on the itinerary,” I consoled myself. I’d find out later how I couldn’t be more mistaken. 

A construction site greeted us when we finally emerged, sweaty and thirsty, from the bushes. It was probably being developed into a tourist center, but we couldn’t really tell for sure. If the sari-sari store booths were any indication (thank God they had Gatorade!), the site was definitely one of the main attractions of Legazpi. On one side you’d get an excellent panoramic view of the entire city; you could even trace out the airport runway, and in the distance you could see the mall standing out like a sore pink thumb. On the other side was an unobstructed view of Mayon. On a clear day such as this, the view was definitely worth the trouble after all.

After catching our breaths, we took the concrete road on our way down the hill. We were just piling into our parked van when we heard our friends’ plane touch down on the runway.

The hike wasn’t exactly difficult, and the view at the top was well worth it.

  Cagsawa Ruins, Part 2.

Nix’s mom chartered a GTExpress van for us for the weekend, and we asked to be taken back to the mall. Apparently, some people forgot to pack a couple of essentials for the weekend. Laila forgot to bring her cellphone charger and no one else’s was compatible with her phone; and, poor Jax, in his haste, forgot to pack underwear. (Seriously, who forgets about their underwear?! That ought to be the first thing you pack! Hahah!) While the two went shopping, the others had their much-delayed lunch/merienda. This time, McDonald’s won, hands down.

We then drove back to Cagsawa. The clouds had already parted, revealing Mayon in all its symmetric glory. The kids we met earlier recognized us (in hindsight, I realize we didn’t even ask for their names), but we declined their offer to take our pictures this time.

We could take pretty pictures (of) ourselves, thankyouverymuch.

  It was about half past 4 in the afternoon when Nix finally convinced everyone it was time to leave. Donsol, Sorsogon was around 2 hours away from Legazpi, and we had to make it to the rest house before it got too dark. We also didn’t want to miss our scheduled firefly-watching river cruise at 7.

  Fireflies!

The dock was a few minutes’ walk from the rest house. Our group couldn’t fit in one boat, so we had to split into two groups. There was a British tourist in our boat, too, and we let Nix do all the talking to him so he could practice his English before he left for the US. Hahah!

Left: Boat A had me, Nix, Nikki and Dette, Toti, and Mr. British Tourist.

Right: Boat B had newlyweds Prinz and Carol, Diane, Jax, Laila, and Lyndree.

  I imagined the Loboc River cruise in Bohol to be much like this, except that that would be done in daylight. The water was still, and the stars lit up the cloudless sky. If it weren’t for the occasional camera flashes from the other boat, it would be easy to think we were alone in the river.

To my disappointment, the fireflies just swarmed around particular spots in the trees that lined the riverbeds. From afar they looked like faint blue fireworks exploding over the coconut trees. I imagined them to be flying across the river, and flying out to us in huge numbers, casting their glowing reflections on the water, but I guess I couldn’t have it all. Still, it was a surreal experience. I’d never seen so many fireflies in my life.

  (Next: Butanding! Butanding! Day 2 starts really early.)

[edjtravelogues-blog]

Bicol [Part 1 of 5].

[Originally posted on 22 May 2008, 1:30 PM]

  You know you’re growing up when, one by one, the people you hold dear drift away.

It’s such a sad intro to an otherwise happy travelogue, but that’s the context behind the trip. Nix, my thesis partner in college, and the person who introduced me to this “wild” group of people I now call my friends, is going away in August to pursue graduate studies in the US. This trip was his pa-despedida of sorts; he took us to Sorsogon, his hometown. He follows Anne, who left a year ago, in seeking greener pastures abroad. Both have promised to return in due time, but until then our group’s travels will never really be as “full” as they were before.

That aside, this trip ranks as one of our best so far. Every one of our trips embodies something special that makes them stand out in my memory: Caliraya in 2005, for instance, stands out for this little “love scandal” and that precious life-saving moment (both of which involve me); and the shooting stars at last year’s Palawan remain as vivid as yesterday. It’s difficult to describe what it is for Bicol, though. Unlike any of our other adventures, this one was not all fun and laughter.

  Thursday | May 01, 2008

Lyndree and I got to the airport at around 6 AM for our 825 AM flight. By the time Toti arrived at past 7, the departure area of the Cebu Pacific terminal looked like Divisoria on a Christmas weekend. Blame it on the delayed Asian Spirit flights; passengers moaned collectively as one flight to Caticlan got delayed, first from 7 to 715, then to 730, then to 830, then to 845, then back to 830, then finally to 930. I wondered how the complimentary meal vouchers could appease the angry passengers.

As the three of us boarded our plane at 820, I couldn’t help but feel excited. This was the first time our group didn’t travel to our destination together in one big pack. The others would fly in at around 2 PM, giving us at least a four-hour window to explore Legaspi by ourselves. I’d always dreamt of traveling/backpacking alone, and this was the closest I could get to doing just that. I didn’t mind that we didn’t have a plan; the fact that we’d have to improvise was part of the thrill for me.

After an hour’s wait our plane finally took off for Legazpi, Albay. There still weren’t any Asian Spirit planes on the tarmac. I was glad I wasn’t going to Boracay like the rest of Manila probably was. The flight would take all of forty minutes.

Left: My first glimpse of Mt. Mayon. From where I sat on the plane, I could see the tracks left by the lava flows of previous eruptions. It’s hard to imagine that such destruction could be caused by something so magnificent.  

Right: The mandatory “sleeping Edj” shot. No trip of ours would be complete without it, it seems.

  Hello, Legazpi.

Unlike other domestic airports I’d been to, the Legazpi arrival area didn’t have a trolley for luggage. It really wasn’t a big deal, because none of us had to fight tooth-and-nail just to get to our bags, but it’s something to keep in mind all the same. In short: Pack light.

First thing’s first: We had to commission some form of transportation to take us around the city, so we approached one of the van drivers and asked if he could drive the three of us to the Cagsawa Ruins and possibly to anywhere else worth seeing around the city.

We found out that an airconditioned van could set us back by around Php800, which Toti and Dree thought too expensive. The trip wouldn’t take longer than three hours, and the Ruins weren’t too far off anyway. Still, I told everyone I was sold, just to get us off the airport parking lot and out from under the hot mid-morning sun. But the driver refused to drive us for Php500, and I was outnumbered, so off we went to consider the tricycles.

Just then, Mang Julius, who must’ve overheard our haggling, approached us. He told us a one-way tricycle ride to Cagsawa would cost around Php150, and that helped us do the math in our heads. The three of us would probably need two tricycles (because of our bags and all), so the damage would amount to roughly Php600—and that would only take us from and back to the airport; i.e., minus all the other detours we were planning. Mang Julius’ offer of Php600 was beginning to sound like a steal.

“Pwede rin po ba tayo umikot sa bayan? Mga tatlong oras din po kasi kami maghihintay,” Lyndree bargained. We were hoping we could drop by a mall or something so we could grab a quick, early lunch before the mini-tour.

“Sige, kung gusto niyo daan na rin tayo sa mall para makakain na rin kayo,” Mang Julius suggested, as if reading our heads.

Needless to say, we took Mang Julius’s offer. The only catch was that his van was not airconditioned, but it was still worth the expense. Compared to Manila, Legazpi was, quite literally, a breath of fresh air.

Later, Dree and Toti told me to let them do any of the haggling from then on. “Masyado ka kasing galante,” Dree laughed. They were right, of course; it was one skill I have yet to master.

*****

It was a quick ride to the Landco Pacific Mall—probably no more than 3 kilometers away from the airport. Before we could even savor the ride through the city, with the majestic Mayon beaming proudly at us in the distance, Mang Julius announced we were already there. It was just a few minutes past 11, but lunch would have to be quick if we were to maximize our side tour.

The mall was nothing like those SM supermalls, but it had your basic Manila comforts, so the choice for lunch was supposed to be easy. Having been forewarned by Nix that we’d probably be having typical “magata” and spicy Bicolano cuisine throughout the weekend—which I wasn’t really too thrilled about, to be honest—I wanted to have McDonald’s for what seemed like my last full meal that weekend. But then Dree and Toti were feeling a bit more adventurous, and they opted to try something different and fast, only more native, like Graceland.

Dree had the pinangat meal, while Toti had the Bicol Express. Toti said it was a bit too salty for his taste and that it needed more zing. I didn’t even ask Dree how hers tasted. As for me, I had the chicken-and-spaghetti combo (for Php95 only!), and the two would never let me hear the end of it. So I really am not that adventurous when it comes to my food. Big deal.

Toti’s Bicol Express, which looked like Binagoongan to me.

  Lola Fanny.

It was around noon when we got to St. Raphael’s Church. The gates were closed, so we went around the premises to look for a way in. We wanted to see the altar up close.

it was supposed to be made from volcanic material from one of Mayon’s eruptions.

  An old lady inside the church spotted us and signaled us to come over as she opened one of the side gates. She asked if we were from Manila, and when we answered in the affirmative, she introduced herself as a (distant) relative of Fanny Serrano. (Let’s call her Lola Fanny, then.)

“Napapanood niyo ba siya sa TV? Ininterview na ako minsan tungkol sa kanya,” she said. She was weirding me out, so I just nodded my head. She then rambled on about Fanny Serrano’s appearance on an episode of Maalaala Mo Kaya. I just walked on inside and sat on a pew, hoping that would get her off my back. That shut her up, but not before taking a seat beside me.

Just then I saw a couple of other old ladies at the side altar, and they appeared to be preparing the flowers and the lectern for a mass. “May misa po ba?” I asked Lola Fanny when the silence became too awkward to bear.

“Mga alas-dose kinse.” 

“Ay, sayang, wala po kaming oras.”

“Ah. Hijo?” she asked, oblivious to my dismissive tone. “Saan kayo sa Maynila? Malapit ba kayo sa Binondo?”

“Naku, lola, hindi po talaga kami taga-Maynila mismo. Mas malapit ho kami sa Quezon City.” (And that was not exactly a lie.)

“Gano’n ba? Nagpapadala kasi ako ng mga sulat kina Fanny. Matagal-tagal na rin nang huli kaming magkausap.” The sadness in her voice was unmistakable, but I didn’t like where the conversation was heading.

“Sandali lang po,” I excused myself to approach the altar for some pictures, but mostly it was just to get away from her. Toti and Dree seemed to be doing the same, and the two other ladies paid no mind to Lola Fanny either. As I took my shots, I could feel her eyes boring through my back.

I could still feel her gaze as we walked out of the church. I felt a bit guilty for leaving like that, so I dropped a couple of small bills in the donation box by the door. I hoped it was enough atonement for my rudeness.

  Cagsawa Ruins, Part 1.

If you’ve seen a postcard of Mayon, you’ve probably also seen the famous Cagsawa Ruins, which, unsurprisingly, is actually a park (there’s even a hot-spring swimming pool there for kids)—they charge an entrance fee of Php10 per head, plus an additional Php30 or so for parking. Two large crosses mark the site to remember those who perished in the great eruption that buried the church.

The moment we stepped out of the van, three locals dogged us to let them take our pictures.

“Sir, gusto niyo po kunyari nakasawsaw ‘yung daliri niyo sa crater?” one of the kids, a boy, asked.

“Sir, dito po tayo sa may bato para makita ‘yung tower at ‘yung Mayon,” the other kid said as she pulled on my sleeve.

I was hesitant, of course; they were probably no older than freshmen high school students, but they were still strangers. But then I saw Toti hand over Dree’s camera to one of the older kids. We looked at her initial shots, and in all fairness she knew all the great angles! I reluctantly gave my camera to the younger girl and just hoped for the best as we gamely posed against the lush backdrop.

“Ay, kuya, low-batt ka na po,” the girl said after our nth jump shot. I took my camera back and gave her Php20 in gratitude. Her pictures turned out great and funny—just the way I like them. The older girl with Dree’s camera didn’t do a bad job, either. They obviously had had a lot of practice. Yay for Philippine tourism!

The only downside is that a lot of other tourists probably have the same shots as we do.

  (Next: Foreshadowing and fireflies. More of Day 1.)