Rubber Plantation in Basilan

On our third day in Zamboanga, we woke up with anticipation to finally soak our tired selves in the inviting shores of Dakak.  However, the cheapest round trip shuttle service amounted to at least P10,000 and the road trip would consume about 9 hours, if I remember it right.  Taking the bus would cost waaay cheaper but the bus stops and waiting time would take longer, making it not advisable for tourists who have a return flight from Zamboanga City the following day. We can’t afford it, money- and time-wise.

So Kuya Mars, our tour guide, brought up Basilan. Again.  So our party of five had to choose between our own safety (the province of Basilan is known for atrocities and all) and an itinerary that calls for a ferry ride that runs for 1.5 hours and amounts to P150 (one-way). Where to go in Basilan? The tourism officers there will take care of us. I think we reached our unanimous decision in about 5 minutes.

In the tourism office in Isabela City, we were told that the news about cold-blooded killings in Basilan were mostly untrue. Yes, they happen, just like the bombing of the town plaza years ago, but such occurs only in crowded places. The town proper would still be safer, compared to the remote areas. During our walking tour in the town proper, everything looked like a typical small town. Except for the ubiquity of uniformed men with rifles. Their sight made me swallow hard and start a short prayer each time.

Welcome to Isabela City, Basilan!

Our newfound friends from the tourism office were not prepared for us, but they managed to give us a half-day tour. Basilan is where Americans first planted rubber and it holds the distinction as the top producer of rubber in the country. They said rubber is one of the island’s top exports, aside from lobsters and others. The 20-minute ride (possibly) to the plantation was smooth; there were no heavy traffic nor muddy roads to dampen our mood.

What a sight for a tree hugger like me!

Beyond beautiful!

Beautiful line-up!

The parade of bending trees reminded me of the man-made mahogany forest in BIlar, Bohol. Beautiful and calming! When you get there, I bet you’ll also get impressed how the rubber trees were neatly lined up! The trunk of the trees get cut diagonally to produce the sap (they looked like glue) which drips to the plastic cup positioned below the cut.  Apparently these cups are being monitored regularly to ensure each drop doesn’t go to waste. Also, the workers must shield these collected rubber from rain.

Rubber dripping from the tree

As a kid, I imagined tires as something people can easily pluck from rubber trees. Now I know better. Hahaha!

Photos from Phyllis Miram and Abegael Mayuga.

Sole Searching in Liliw

In April 2007, Joyce, my classmate in graduate school, invited our all-girl group to a quick sembreak getaway in her hometown in Pagsanjan. This weekend trip involves shooting the rapids en route to Pagsanjan Falls, enjoying a festive lunch in their farm in Cavinti, touring Caliraya and sole searching in Liliw.

Guess which one excites me the most? Of course, it’s the encounter with the wild water to Pagsanjan Falls! Were you thinking the shoe shopping segment? Well, it ranks second. I guess I’m not imeldific or kikay enough. And I can already imagine you arguing “There’s Imelda in everyone!” I guess that’s true if I could afford to spoil my flat feet and give in to every craving for shoes. In this side trip to Liliw, I realized it’s possible.

Let the sole searching begin!

The Liliw Festival was ongoing during our visit so we can’t haggle much. But then again, they were selling their beautiful footwear for incredibly low amount already. It would probably be too much to ask for discounts!

Size 10, please!

Which color looks better? Or should I get both?

With so many options to choose from, we had trouble deciding which color to get. In my case, I had to ask everyone if I should go for kick-ass mahogany or classic black pumps (upper left photo) and which pair of swirly sandals compliment my morena skin (middle left photo). I was even supposed to get the wedges with floral design in Steprite (lower right photo) but I eventually changed my mind.

We were a team…until Chiqui’s Amazing Race mindset kicked in!

As if indecision were not torture enough, Chiqui suddenly thought we should crown the one who takes home the most number of shoes! I can’t remember if everyone agreed, but a part of me wanted to win.

Unfortunately, I didn’t. Chiqui bagged home 7 pairs for less than phP1,000! Can you believe it? Some girls really find it effortless to shop away. I think her shoe size is a good factor, too. I remember clamoring for Ayi’s cute wedges, but they don’t have size 10. How heartbreaking, right?

And I took home black pumps, swirly sandals & green wedges!

Call me nuts, but I went for the ever safe and boring black pumps over adventurous mahogany pumps (PhP570). I also took home the orange-yellow-brown sandals (PhP230) and light green wedges (PhP220). Not bad, right?

I just re-read the past paragraphs and I can’t help but look down pitifully at my abused purple flats. This probably means I must retrace my steps back to Liliw soon.

Postal Heritage & Nature Trail Walking Tour

Thanks to Couchsurfing Manila, I get to hear about interesting events like the Silent Film Festival, Meditation Session in Fo Guang Shan Mabuhay Temple and the FREE Postal Heritage & Nature Trail Walking Tour.

Every third Sunday of the month, the Filipinas Stamp Collectors’ Club holds a walking tour within Manila area to rediscover most of the city’s well-loved establishments. To my surprise, it’s been happening for more than a decade now. At the same time, their club holds meetings and auctions for stamps at this time of the month.

During our tour in September 2010, Lawrence Chan took us inside the Metropolitan Theatre (a dream come true for me!), Arroceros Forest Park and the Manila Post Office. We’re supposed to cover the Intramuros area but our group (comprised of Architecture, Tourism & HRM students, photographers, etc) probably lost momentum or got pooped after the much-awaited merienda time and short talk about philately. After this tour, Kat and I expressed our desire for time travel back to Manila. Our ancestors must be very lucky.

The exteriors of Metropolitan Theatre (also known as Met)

Since I laid my eyes on this abandoned building in college, I felt the urge to come inside and surprise myself with proof of restoration efforts. Lawrence Chan says there’s an ongoing attempt to do so but, as usual, arts & culture always take the back seat. I doubt it’s the administration’s priority either.

The creepy interiors of Met.

I was disappointed to see modern-type seats with cup holders instead of the wooden-type ones the prior generations were accustomed to. According to Lawrence Chan, restoration in the Philippines does NOT involve finding the original materials to attain the old look. Methinks it’s about bending to the meager budget alloted by the government and/or acquired from donations. Speaking of, the donors’ name appeared at the back of each seat. It was pretty dark to check each one of them but I noticed Rep. Manny Pacquiao was very generous and possibly serious in keeping this old theatre alive.

There was one painting from a local artist that, upon closer scrutiny, proves to be a tarpaulin that made use of low-resolution image. The old dressing room with its cluttered costumes and props  and the hallway never failed to give me the chills; I was truly relieved I have no developed third eye.

Shattered stained glass and the view outside

In spite of the moldings, dust and broken stained glass, among others, it does not take an architect to appreciate the building. It was a showcase of European, Asian and even local materials like bamboo and capiz. We ascended to the top of the building for that rare view of the apathetic world outside and  the much-deserved fresh air that humid afternoon. If you’d get the same opportunity, you’d linger, too, for the colorful design on tiles.

Ascending the building…

L-R: The colorful tiles, myself and Kat

Needless to say, I felt depressed afterwards. How did Asia’s erstwhile cradle of arts and monument of the Filipino talent die like this? If it were true that there’s a little Imelda in all of us, what is our action plan to revive this building?

A walk along the Arroceros Forest Park leads to this view of the Pasig River

After the forest park, our group retraced our steps back to the Post Office. It served as our refuge after a long walk under the punishing heat. For a frequent letter and postcard sender, it was my first time to appreciate Architect Juan Arellano’s ionic pillars, door details and the building’s neoclassical entirety up close.

Manila Central Post Office in Lawton

Up close

There was an ongoing exhibit of Jose Rizal’s letters and poetry inside. I also took my time to read some of the students’ writings posted on the board.

Exhibit of Jose Rizal’s letters and poetry

The emptiness of its interiors (it was a Sunday afternoon) made me imagine the unresting souls of World War II casualties who hid in this building. Turns out there are walking tours for paranormal experts to communicate with them or simply to pray for them. It’s NOT for the faint-hearted like me, obviously.

We attended an informal talk about stamp collecting. Sadly, it’s a dying art as most people would prefer to take advantage of the technology than line up in queue in front of the post office. What’s worse: the passionate philatelists are…well…dying, too. They’re looking for younger people to continue the appreciation and investment of these miniature artworks.

Silencio! Auction of stamps ongoing!

Upon learning that rare collections, especially erroneous ones, can equate to huge bucks, I nearly went on purchasing spree of the new Philippine stamp with wrong scientific name for beetle (the same stamp a huge number of Japanese stamp collectors went gaga over recently) and inspect all the stamps on my postcard collection.

It was great to hear that this walking tour rekindled Kat‘s interest in stamp collecting. As for me, I’d continue supporting the local post offices by sending numerous posctards to different local and international towns and/or cities. Which reminds me, I need to get busy on Postcrossing again!

It’s been almost 3 years since we went on this tour and I imagine Lawrence Chan and the rest of their organization are still passionately spread the love of stamps. I can’t believe  we still haven’t made our comeback to this area for more learnings.  If you’d like to join us, here are the contact details:

Ms. Josie Tiongson – Cura ( 0917-9800708 ) Landline 735-5001 / 881-1432 Monday to Saturday 1pm to 5pm only!
Ms. Nena De Guzman ( 527-00 -96) Postal Museum and Library. Call her between 8AM to 5PM ( Monday to Friday) for parking instruction
Lawrence Chan ( 0919-3901671)
Email: L_rence_2003@yahoo.com

Lawrence Chan, our tour guide

All photos were taken by Kat Sales.

This is an updated version of this entry on ScorpionSyrup.

Talaandig Wedding

As the world celebrates Valentine’s Day today, I would like to recall a very romantic gathering I was truly blessed to witness. Back in October 2011, my friends and I were invited to attend the Talaandig Festival in Songco, Bukidnon. Talaandigs are one of the indigenous groups in the mentioned province.

We were truly fortunate to have met datus and baylans who helped us understand and appreciate their heritage (blogged about it here). Aside from that, we got to witness a tribal wedding. Our hosts Datu Anilaw and his wife Lorie tied the knot during last year’s Talaandig Festival. This time, we got to witness Datu Anilaw’s nephew marry his girlfriend who happens to be from a different tribe in Bukidnon. And the hopeless romantic in me clasps my hands together and sigh.

Red and ready for the festivities!

We were told that being garbed in red and/or ethnic accessories is a great demonstration of partaking in the Talaandig festivities. And you know how much I love red and how I’m easily drawn to ethnic designs. Outfit back story here.

Our hosts Datu Muilaw-ilaw (aka Datu Anilaw) and Senyora Magawgaw Bai Manduhin-e (aka Lorie)

The hosts and the guests

Handa…awit! *

The wedding march! ~

I found it really amusing to see this parade of loved ones kick-off the wedding. (I assume it was the start of the wedding rites even if the bride did not appear at the end). Their  costumes seemed to be painstakingly designed and their auras display great joy and love for the couple.

Upon entrance to the Hall of Peace, the groom’s family faced the bride’s to initiate the negotiation for dowry. I assumed this typically takes place before the bride’s parents agreed to give her hand. I noticed the bride was not present while this was going on.

While the negotiation for dowry is ongoing, the bride is hidden from public view

And then the groom sees his bride for the first time…*

Prayers for the newlyweds*

Happy witnesses surrounded the couple*

Enjoying their first meal as extended family

Although I could not comprehend the exchanges among the elders, the couple and their families, I could feel how joyful everyone was. Especially when it was time for reception. We always have to conclude such gathering, dialogue about great beginnings and make new friends in the presence of food. How Pinoy! My best friend Lakapati was still on her 30-day juice feast at the time, her husband Alvin and I no longer consume red meat. The sight of lechon may not be appealing to us, but we enjoyed the fruits one of the guests brought and the vegetables they prepared specially for us. We were so thankful.

In the reception area

Getting media attention ~

The tribal wedding cake!

Fifth wheel? With the newlyweds Sagyawan and Charlyn Saway and recently married Mikey Bustos este Alvin and Lakapati Basa ~

The best part? The party extended until the wee hours! Bukidnon is home to great musicians like Waway Saway, his son RJ Saway (he plays the guitar as if he were playing the piano) and – my favorite discovery – the reggae band The Mo (I have a copy of their CD).

 

The newlyweds get the party started!

Now that I’ve mentioned this reggae band, I recall how Datu Anilaw played Cupid that evening. The things in-a-relationship people do to single people! Haha! I’m tempted to tell you how his attempt went, but you’ll just have to wait…until it’s my turn to deliver a bride’s speech.

Acknowledgements:

* – photos by Gerald Rago

~ – photos by Lakapati

Burning Wish Papers & Chasing Dragons in Binondo

For some unknown reason, my at-work-and-play friends always find our way to Binondo during Chinese New Years. When we parted ways in 2005, we made it a point to reunite every Chinese New Year to catch up on each other’s eventful lives. In 2007, we decided to break our “tradition” and welcome the arrival of the new year and spend the wee hours all together instead. Luckily, Shiela’s former employer, Hubert, and his mother were happy to take us to their temples and experience this festive event, the Chinese way.

Hubert took us to three temples (whose names I can’t sadly recall). We can’t help but marvel at the astonishing artworks that surround the deities. I took too many photos from many vantage points, hoping I can somehow give you a glimpse of those beautiful artifacts.

Kneeling before the deities

A closer look

L-R: Ama, Hubert, my friends Shiela & Cleo

Offers

Another closer look

Top view of the throng of people waiting for their turn to get closer

Abundant offers for the deities

More deities

Candles that can light for 4 months

Ceiling art

Another beautiful altar

Elaborate door art

When we got our chance to be near the altar, we noticed the Chinese were burning incense. I love how incense easily masks unpleasant odors and how it makes me feel more relaxed. I typically use it in the privacy of my own bedroom as my own brand of lullaby.

Incense as sacrificial offerings

Burning joss sticks

Shiela and Cleo give it a try

That’s me in action

All of a sudden, Hubert approached me to correct my gestures. Turned out I was bowing my head and my joss sticks in a hurried fashion. Worse, the sticks were not planted firmly into the sand and the burning end of the sticks were not of the same height with the rest. I apologized and quickly adjusted everything, hoping I didn’t offend them for my mishaps.

Take 2!

Aside from this, we had a chance to meet a monk. He laid his hand on our heads to bless us. After his prayer, he painted a red dot in the center of our forehead. It reminded me of bindi, the Indian forehead decoration that signify marital status. In my research here, the area between the eyebrows is where sixth chakra can be found. This mark was for protection against demons and for concentration.

The red dot on our foreheads

If I remember it right, the monk asked us to write down our prayers or wishes in a wish paper that we burned inside the temple. Unfortunately, I can hardly recall what my intentions were at the time. But I imagine asking for wisdom and strength to finish my graduate studies and prosperity, among others. And world peace.

Burning our wish papers

Leaving the temple

Hubert happens to celebrate his birthday every Chinese New Year (no fixed date) so he gifted us with citrus fruits and tikoy before we went our separate ways in the early morning. And as if our miswa marathons in each temple were not enough, our party of three had a hearty brunch (read: clam soup, king fish, buttered fried chicken, among others).

For me, the dragon or lion dance would probably be the most exciting treat. It’s not everyday that we see this kind of performance, after all. We were fortunate to have seen a couple of dragon dances before we left Chinatown. I find it appealing that the people behind these performances were actually Pinoys.

Here we go!

Dances outside an establishment

Fearless dancing with the firecrackers!

Firecrackers are believed to ward off evil spirits

Check this out!

And somewhere in Binondo, I spotted young kids re-enacting the lion dance. It was like a promise that they will study martial arts soon and train and prepare harder for their turn to do the impressive lion or dragon dance.

The next generation of dragon dancers!

Needless to say, it was the most memorable Chinese New Year to date. The company of my friends was already more than enough to celebrate. This chance to know more about the Chinese culture was such an unexpected reward. Truly, I feel blessed. With or without lucky charms.

It was also this year when I learned from this blog entry that “Kung Hei Fat Choi” is the Cantonese version of that greeting, but almost all Chinese residing here in the Philippines are Fujianese. Hence, the proper way to say it is “Kiong Hee Huat Chai!”. Thank you, Ivan Henares.

Welcome to the Enchanted Farm! / Unilab Ideas Positive’s Social Marketing Bootcamp: Day 2 of 3

Imagine my delight upon hearing about Unilab Ideas Positive‘s generous offer to include 5 Facebook fans in their 3-day social marketing bootcamp that includes an immersion in a Gawad Kalinga farm. I was initially hesitant, knowing I can’t go on leaves in the office during the typically toxic quarter-end and I already said yes to attend the sportsfest aftermath in our Church’s youth ministry that Saturday evening. In spite of this resignation that I won’t make it anyway, I still posted a comment. Guess what I found out during Day 1 of this bootcamp while I’m slaving away in the office?

Who’s that lucky girl?

Kuya Billy of GK’s Center for Social Innovation explains what GK is all about

The following day happens to be the immersion day in Enchanted Farm in Bulacan. As a Human Heart Nature dealer myself who’s always unavailable when they offer visits to the farm, I was immensely grateful for this chance. It happens to be the first, soon there’ll be Enchanted Farms in Bacolod, Palawan, Camarines Sur, Samar and Butuan.

Kuya Billy (I know I’m older than him, but everyone’s calling him Kuya eh!) from GK’s Center for Social Innovation (CSI) told us that they envision to make poverty in the Philippines end in 2024. To be specific, this involves businesses with strong ethics (fair to the employees, suppliers and customers). GK is renowned for building homes for our less fortunate fellowmen. Now that their beneficiaries had earned their dignity, GK is currently on phase 2 of their vision: providing them sources of income by farming and other forms of involvement in the social enterprises they support. After all, it’s never enough to supply a man with fish; they have to teach them how to fish. GK is all about sustainable living.

The most disturbing part of his talk? When he divulged that we have 12 million hectares of unproductive land. “Kalokohan lang na mahirap ang Pilipinas!” he added. It’s sad that most of our farmers are tired of tilling our land, that they dream of white-collar jobs. What will happen to us in the near future?

Also, I learned that they host GK CSI Nights where aspiring social entrepreneurs may meet up and discuss their plans weekly. They are very eager to hear our thoughts. You may follow @GKcsiNight for announcements. Perhaps sitting in with the most brilliant young minds in the nation can light up my own bulb.

Meet Kuya Miggy!

Kuya Miggy (again, younger than I am) gave up the corporate world after a year of satisfactory salary yet disheartening role of breaking the bad news to employees (lay-offs, reduced benefits and compensation, etc). With his talent in training people, he created modules for GK and never looked back eversince. He was our group’s tour guide.

Meet Cherrie Atilano who postponed her Fulbright scholarship for GK

When Kuya Miggy took us to the organic and astoundingly silent piggery, we got to meet Cherrie Atilano, an agriculturist and one of the Ten Oustanding Students of the Philippines 2007 awardee. She was a portrait of pride for how behaved her vegetarian pigs were, then a portrait of sadness in recounting that morning’s slaughtering episode. She can get too attached, she disclosed. That possibly explains why she had no second thoughts in postponing her Fulbright scholarship for the sake of the people in the farm. Converting former construction workers, former NPA and other residents and their children in GK into farmers, according to her, is already the hands-on education that she needed, something worthy of postgraduate studies in itself.

Enchanted Farm’s elaborate plan includes vegetable farm, goat and duck farms, cabanas, bed and breakfast (renting a 2-floor, airconditioned hut amounts to P4,000/per night for 16 people), softball field, floating restaurant, lemongrass maze for kids and others. I’m truly grateful to set my foot in this promising earth even before it all comes into fruition. Let me show you how green, lovely and amazing this place is!

Greens here, there and everywhere!

More greens!

Chillaxing inside the cabana*

Class picture ouside the bed and breakfast*

Bamboo Palace!

On top of the Bamboo Palace!

You guessed it right. This future event venue is made of multitude of mighty bamboos! Being on second floor provided us 360 degree view of the 14-hectare “dreamland”. The wind was so soothing that all insomniacs like me need is a hammock to call it siesta time. Kuya Miggy kept on asking who has plans to tie the knot this year as the Bamboo Place is expected to be completed by fourth quarter. Since most bootcampers are college students, the organizers themselves threw one another a knowing look. I got my fair share of “Uuuy, AteLorna!” from a fellow Facebook winner and, well, I must admit that this looks a romantic place to unite lovers and introduce families and friends.

With the other Facebook winners: Jamie, Argee, Earl and Jaypee

Heart-shaped pool for the kids

Proud dealer of Human Heart Nature

Aaaand speaking of heart, I’ve been a believer of their all-natural products since 2009. Aside from getting my money’s worth for their high-quality products, I know that I’m helping our own farmers prosper. For their huge heart for nature, for our poor fellowmen and our loved ones, Human Heart Nature has my support and loyalty for the years to come.

By the way, HHN’s main office in Commonwealth stands next to the Enchanted Farm Cafe that carries other all-natural goodies like Golden Eggs (salted duck eggs dyed with turmeric instead of the carcinogenic red paint we’re accustomed to), Enchantea (my favorite lemongrass-based brewed drink that was initially available in HHN-Cavite only), Cafe de Sug, Theo and Philo artisan chocolates (try the dark chocolate with siling labuyo!), among others.  GK’s restaurant, where we all huddled to listen to  our hosts and speakers, also served as a showroom for their chemical-free products.

Fresh lettuce kayo dyan!

Papaya kayo dyan!

Golden Eggs. Not from golden ducks (Jamie’s joke)

Cafe de Sug

And the main event (at least for me) was the very inspiring message from the passionate founder himself, Tito Tony Meloto. According to Kuya Miggy earlier that day, Tito Tony immersed himself in the poor, notorious communities in Manila to dialogue with them about his vision for our rich country. He never faltered until he managed to convert them into God-fearing, patriotic citizens. Now he’s been catching flights to accept accolades left and right and I felt – and I still feel – so blessed to be sharing the oxygen with him that afternoon.

Pinoys are mere jobseekers abroad but not wealth-makers back home, he started. So who else can create wealth for this nation? He pointed out that, according to recent researches, we’ve obtained highest economic growth in Asia, next to China. The entire world is aware of the West’s downfall and, yes, we ARE one of the tiger economies in the near future. The problem is, while these foreigners are going HERE to anticipate the economic turnaround, we Pinoys are still dreaming of greener pastures ELSEWHERE. Let’s not be the last to realize we can augment our lives. Any excuses won’t do because TitoTony himself came from a poverty-stricken past. According to him, we must take advantage of the honest government that we currently have. The entire world is aware of it and they’e willing to join us because of it.

Tito Tony Meloto: “If you are true leaders, ‘wag utak alipin!” *

It didn’t take the entire speech for me to realize that he was speaking to me. I know I’ve mentioned in so many old blog entries before that I have no plans of leaving but the recent family issues had been making me rethink. That probably deserves a separate blog entry.

Sometimes, it really takes a complete stranger and/or new scenery for us to realize where we’re supposed to be headed. Thank you, Unilab, for this unbelievable chance to experience all this.

Kodak moment with Tito Tony Meloto

Before I conclude this entry, allow me to share this Enchanted Farm map lifted from this article so you could imagine how this 14-hectare haven will look like in the future. I know I’m too scatterbrained to describe it all. Sorry naman.

Ta-da!

Photos from Jamie Ann del Mundo.

* photos lifted from Anne Apostol.

Congratulations! photo lifted from Ideas Positive’s fanpage, highlight effect by Winifred Layug.

This entry was originally posted here. Also, you can read Day 3 of 3 here.

How To Panic During Your Banana Boat Ride and How To Break A Snorkeling Mask

Looking back, this trip to Puerto Galera, Mindoro in February 2005 was the beginning of my commitment to see the big world out there. I am scared of open water and unknown sea creatures that could harm me, but this sheltered soul only welcomed happy thoughts during the trip. I heard it’s the nearest sanctuary for desk jockeys like myself and I should let the beautiful backdrop do its magic on me.

A place for lovers

Sun, sand and strings!

Of course, the plan to enjoy the island is not limited to sight-seeing. With my friends’ encouragement, I said yes to banana boat and snorkeling. That time,. the banana boat rental was for P200/head for 20 minutes. Jet ski is for P2,500 per hour.

Ready for the adventure that lies ahead!

But if you were as cunning as Vannie, you’d get the banana boat and jetski at the price and duration of the former. She hopped off to the jetski before our 20 minutes were up. Scratch that, she ‘accidentally’ slipped off from the rear, boarded the front seat of the banana boat before we went for the third round then hopped off to the jetski before our 20 minutes were up. With my squinting eyes battling the sun and seawater, it was easy to imagine the jet skier (?)’s devilish grin as he splits off the rope connecting the jet ski and the banana boat and take her home. Luckily, he didn’t. With Vannie as the pilot, the final glide across the azure waters was as fast and smooth as a kalesa. How climactic.

Anyway, since it was my first time to try banana boat, let me assume you don’t know it either. Banana boat works this way: the man behind the jet ski (or boat) pulls the five-seater inflated boat to random points of the sea at a top speed until the passengers cry their go signal to be tossed out to the water. Unfortunately, the jet skier (Uhm, let’s call him Manong, shall we?) is not trained to decipher a yell of enjoyment from a shriek of self-made dread for sharks. When the boat tips over, the passengers should mount back to the boat on their own for another tour. Of course, it didn’t work that way for me. 1.) It took me 5 seconds to let go from the handle on round 1 out of panic; and 2.) Mitch, Maxi and Manong joined forces to tug me aboard on round 2.

Let me explain. My promising ascend for round 2 was cut short when Vannie made a bionic leap from my behind. It turns out we were pining for the same spot. The impact pushed me afar from the boat. I swear I struggled to reunite with that plastic perch. The next thing I knew, Mitch and Maxi were pulling me until my bossoms were pressed against the boat in a manner that no owner of XX chromosome would allow. No ouch escaped. I self-indignantly maneuvered for a climb but halted midway. With all respect for rhetoric, I announced, “Ang sakit ng ano ko, ng toes kooooooooo!”

***

On to the next water adventure! Snorkeling rates amount to P750 for 3 hours then P50/head for the equipment. If they offer it for P500, it’s likely they won’t take you to the Long Beach. Again, this rate is as of February 2005.

Due to some conflicts I do not wish to elaborate, snorkeling was reduced to cool down. Fewer slices, bigger sum. So Mitch, Maxi, Cleo and I took the P500-package. As soon as the boat engine stopped, I realized three hours of snorkeling are way too long. Or to be more accurate, 2 hours and 58 minutes. I might get bored stiff. This usually happens when one’s mind is hyped to something tremendously ecstatic. Based on Maxi’s calculation, it would take us 25 minutes to get to the Long Beach. I swallowed, thinking how that P250 would have extended the cinematic sensation of the sea breeze making my black mane soar away from my pallor.

Brushing bitterness aside, I geared up for the ultimate plunge. Life vest. Check. Snorkeling mask. Check. Flippers. Forget it. Cleo supplied me the details I need to know. How to breathe, how to wear the mask, the works. “Kagatin mo ‘to,” she instructed, pointing to the protruding pair from the mouthpiece.

The first fifty minutes, I guess, were awkward. I re-adjusted my mask for umpteen times, looked after my comrades but they’re too submerged to model for me, then realized the bread I was supposed to feed the fish were ten times enjoying the swim than I do. Subsequently, I feigned disturbance from the passing motorboats. If only they could see my eyes turning into tiny slits, they would definitely eat a humble pie. I attempted to appreciate what’s beneath, holding my breath. 1, 2, 3. My head would rise. Heavy panting ensued. Then I’d duck again, come up coughing since I let the air in through my nose. I suddenly missed yoga.

Cleo’s concerned voice interrupted my thoughts. I haven’t missed anyone in my life like that before! Inching closer in a speed you’d consider a breakthrough for the first time that afternoon, I admitted in a decibel equivalent to a negative integer that my mask has turned into a pacifier. I opened my palm for her to see the right pair is already detached. The other one is still holding on. I could only explain, “Sabi mo kagatin ko eh,”

Snorkeling with Mitch, Maxi and Cleo

Maxi was the first to go back. His alcohol exposure made him forgivable. Cleo decided to head back, too; she can no longer tolerate the shivers and the poor lighting down under. I panicked: what’s my excuse? There’s no way I can outlast someone in Marina complex. I joined Cleo, hoping a sea urchin bite would have made my snorkeling experience more eventful. Next to worrying if Manong would discover the damaged snorkeling mask during the boat ride back to White Island, of course.

Water(loo)

This is an amended version of this entry.

Jamming at Azotea Greens

Waldo and I took a quick breather in Baguio City last weekend. Our itinerary involves gabfest with my college best friend-turned-kumare and godmother duties to her newborn angel, unofficial baby shower with my expectant friend-slash-kumare-to-be and tourist guide duties to my boyfriend. It’s his first time to reach the highlands.

That’s the challenge. I’ve been to Baguio countless times and the last time I took the tourist route was in freshman year in college (read: photo opp with the lion’s head along Kennon Road, Saturday morning in Philippine Military Academy (PMA) to watch the drill and swoon over the cadets, the works!). It’s always an affair with the locals each time I visit this cold city, except for that time I helped produce Saleng: Bonfires for Peace in Oh My Gulay for Traveling Bonfires in summer 2010.

Now, where should I take him? In my mind, Baguio is an endless stage that welcomes both experienced and budding artists and encourages expression for her diverse residents and visitors alike. Baguio is the birthplace of one of my favorite bands, Kalayo (formerly known as Pinikpikan), home to filmmaker Kidlat Tahimik and his artistic family, solar painter Jordan Mang-osan and destinations like Tam-Awan Village,  BenCab Museum and many others. When my friend Yvie informed me that vegetarian restaurant Azotea Greens is holding their first art exhibit + jamming the same weekend I’ll be in town, I was ecstatic! I love greens, percussions and creative energies happening all at the same time, but I’m not sure if my beau would be crazy about it. Well, there’s only way to find out.

Signage design by Kabunyan de Guia

The jamming had began when we arrived

Where’s Waldo?

The photo exhibit

The restaurant was packed with warm people! Waldo and I were very fortunate to find a vacant table for two when we got there. Inasmuch as I would like to explore the menu, we were unfortunately still quite full from that day’s feast at my friend’s place. Waldo, on the other hand, claimed to be still satiated even after the horseback riding episode in Camp John Hay and the long walk along Session Road earlier that evening. Either that’s true or his meat-loving tastebuds got a hint he won’t appreciate the veggie meat there. So I asked for something light instead.

Hot lemongrass tea for my sore throat (it comes with honey)

Me and my spicy kangkong

Delicious, yes, but it wasn’t as spicy as I hoped it to be

Everything got even more enjoyable when I noticed Waldo swaying and clapping along to the live music. I wanted to dance along then float away in glee. Then, something miraculous took place. He fished for kangkong…and fished for some more!

The carnivore is now a herbivore. At least, that evening.

The jamming went on!

It was absolutely a fun gig! The artists and organizers were beaming with hope that that evening’s gathering will be the first of many, and I share that prayer.

But, hey, no art event concludes until the open mic segment. That evening, I thought I was just being comical when I divulged a fact against the loud music. Looking back, my “open mic” moment was too mushy to share but, in the spirit of our first anniversary happening today, please hear me out. Or should I say, read on? Please keep it under your hat.

From me to you…

Nakakaumay ba? My apologies. I shall then leave you with this clip. It’s my favorite bit of the jamming simply because it was interactive and so much fun!

Padayon Jamming

More Padayon photos here. Enjoy!

The Badjaos’ Final Resting Place

Now that everybody is most likely paying respects to their departed loved ones in observance of All Soul’s Day, I can’t help but recall about the burial site of our Badjao brothers and sisters during my recent visit in Zamboanga. Badjaos are one of our many ethnolinguistic groups in the country; better known as the sea-dwelling people. They used to have the coasts of Sulu, Tawi-Tawi and Zamboanga as their home but, thanks to the threats they faced, they left their floating homes to find solace elsewhere.

After this short stay in the lagoon, Kuya Richard told us we can also visit the Badjao cemetery before we head off to Sta. Cruz Island and its pinkish white sand. As you would expect from people with eternal bond with seas, their graveyard served as an exhibition of wooden boats and possibly carefully-designed toldas that served as shields against the elements. I find it poetic how the kalachuchi trees seemed to bow down all together to protect the resting – or probably traveling – spirits of the tribe’s elders.  Its presence provide them with ceaseless supply of flowers in the afterlife – a promise that they will never be forgotten.

Also, it was heartwarming to see there were no division between the royals and the ordinary. If there’s any, it’s the fabric above the grave  that directs us to the people of importance (colorful ones) and the ordinary ones (white).

Badjaos only go ashore after death

Epitaphs show possible influence of other cultures

Above the grave: wooden representation of the deceaseds aboard a vessel

White “tolda” denotes the deceased was an ordinary Badjao

Colored “tolda” means the deceased was of high impotance in the community

Beautiful boat

Family and friends leave the deceased’s favorite things in the grave

Appropriately dressed for this stopover

When we were done taking photographs, Claire approached me to say she felt some energies in the cemetery. She didn’t describe if the elders were welcoming or otherwise, but she was determined to offer the resting souls with mandala. While we were gathering tiny stones to form a design, Kuya Richard advised us not to continue. One of our boatsmen happened to be a Badjao and has deceased family members in the area. Turns out we need to seek permission from the family members before we could bring any presents.

***

In college, I had this opportunity to visit a Badjao community in Batangas. My groupmates and I discovered that they opted to turn their back from their ancestral seas due to the unpleasant conflicts in the area.  With the help of the pastor they met during their exodus, they put up their own cemented homes, embraced the Christian faith and started a new life. The tribe leader told us they were always on the lookout for fellow Badjaos whom they will dissuade from begging for alms and sleeping in streets. Homeless Badjaos are always welcome in their new turf.

Badjaos are now everywhere. I’ve seen them beg in Makati, Baclaran and in my hometown in Bacoor, Cavite. It was truly a sad sight. Are they still on their own? Or are they already members of syndicates? Will this episode ever end?

As we observe the holiday, I appeal that we offer a prayer for our Badjao brothers and sisters who suffer from hunger, homelessness, hopelessness and other troubles that we may not be aware of.

And I shall leave you with this mesmerizing song that I can’t stop playing in my head upon seeing the photos of the dead elders’ favorite things and while I’m writing this.  I’m sure you’ll love this as much as I do.

Photos by Phyllis Miram and Abby Mayuga.

Not-so-Related Post: Suddenly Appropriately Dressed

Amazing Race in Corregidor

It’s been a year since my first time in Corregidor. Back then, I thought it was in Bataan. Imagine my shock when our tour guide divulged it’s part of Cavite. And I call myself Caviteña! Now allow me to reminisce about this short yet sweet stay in the island.

Our batch had long planned to visit an unexplored destination like Corregidor for some ghost-hunting madness but, fortunately for the panic-stricken killjoys like myself, we discovered about the adventure tour first before the overnight counterpart of the historical tour. How can you possibly say no? Admit it, there’s something beyond heart-pumping about the reality show Amazing Race that, given the chance, you will jump at the opportunity to be in the show or anything close.

Meet Lor(n)a the Explorer!

Could somebody remind Lora to zip her backpack? Please?

Off to the battlefield!

Our team gets briefed

I brought casual clothes to change into upon arrival in the island. I had to endure at least 6 hours of Rest Day Over Time (RDOT) before heading to the bay terminal to meet up with my batchmates. However, everything happened so rapidly that I set aside such plans after our group stretching and briefing. Forgive me for being in a skirt all throughout. It doesn’t look seriously sporty, right?

And we’re off to the first challenge!

Looking for clues

And we found ’em!

Outside the [mental] hospital!

Mind games dito…

…mind games doon!

Problem solved! Wee!

About to survive the long duckwalk in the tunnel + ladder climb

Leaving the lighthouse

I’d hate to break the ambiguity of the challenges in the succeeding photos and paragraphs. But this competitive fool needs to justify how our party of 10 lost our approximately 10-minute lead. The first ballgame required the participants to form a circle, throw the ball to the person across them one after another until the basketful of balls had gone around. Mind you, in such a windy day when typhoon Quiel decided to make a landfall!

My turn to catch the ball from Cayin, our leader. Next off is Carmela, the girl standing next to Cayin.

Ball game by the ruins!

The opposing team about to break our lead! Damn!

The second ballgame happened to be the last challenge. It reminded me of one of the games that we had during What is Your DNA? (Discover and Nurture your Abilities). Instead of PVC pipes and calamansi, we’re supposed to make a plastic ball reach the basket a few feet away by making it roll through pieces of bamboo. We were THIS close to regain our lead but the ball fell down about thrice. We’re left with no option but to swallow our frustration and go back to the starting line.

Exhibit A

Exhbit B

Exhibit C

Exhibit D

Exhibit E: Almost there! Let’s do this!

Aaaaand we did it!

Tell me, do we look like runners-up to you?

We refuse to sulk. It’s lunchtime at last!

Let’s vault in, dirrrty feet! Take us tamagochis to the diner!

 I forgot to mention that some of us missed to have proper breakfast and we found the junk food being sold in the ferry’s snack bar far from satisfying. In my case, my last meal was around 12 midnight when one of our team leaders treated us poor saps to let’s-pretend-we’re-not-working-on-a-weekend dinner followed by hot taho in CCP at 6:30 am. Shortly after I made my second ascend to the ladder, I recognized how dizziness slowly crept in and I pushed myself to lean in a nearby branch. Millie realized it’s not my usual way of hugging a tree and probed what’s wrong. “Gutom na ako,” I murmured and MJ rushed to offer the freebie granola bar. I imagine how pale I’ve become. In a few minutes, I felt better. Thank God!

As you can probably tell by facing this challenge with an empty stomach, I didn’t really make any elaborate preparations for this challenge. That’s when overconfidence gets problematic. It’s almost effortless to convince oneself that such time-pressured games do not really necessitate major workout sessions. Knee injury or knee injury, I’ll survive it with a huge smile in my face. No anti-climactic finish in the hospital like this.

Always the last to arrive?

Guess who’s lagging behind?

Yes, I was always the last to make it and it was my name that consistently went with “Double time!”. When I finally do, somebody or the entire group’s almost done sweeping the place for clues. I really felt like a dead weight.

There was this one moment when I’m panting away at the back of the race and started asking myself why did I even agree to join this adventure to begin with. We apparently underestimated the challenges! Then they laughingly boomeranged the questions: “Who tagged us on Facebook about this deal, huh?” and “Whose idea is this, anyway?”.

Gosh, it was my idea! It’s all my fault that we’re crying happy tears under the interchanging heavy rains and bright sunshine. It was the exact motivation that I needed to hear and I felt my spirits lift up. It felt as if I can do million jump shots as if I never ever broke my kneecap or something.

This is amended version of this entry. Photos grabbed from Abby, Tagz and Gary.