September 25, 2015

Colors of Bali

Color.

It’s what sets the sky apart from the clouds; the determinant of which clip a little girl will pick to doll up for a birthday party; a pertinent facet in weddings; a chief element that defies Sameness according to Jonas in “The Giver.”

It also happens to be a key ingredient that Bali embodies and is abundant in.

I visited the island last year with my family and found myself proclaiming that I would willingly go back every year. Primarily, it was because I realized I was smitten by the tints of the place and I wanted to see more.

I went back last month and indeed saw almost a kaleidoscopic multitude of hues.

The colors of Bali aren’t limited to the usual shades of the tropics as the place is categorically known for. Beyond the greens of the coconut trees is the verdant emerald spread of rice paddies in the Tegallalang Rice Terraces in Ubud and the yellows that are nearly fading to brown in parts that farmers have not cultivated.

The seas lure depilating pupils with maverick blues that mesh with colossal foamy white waves in Dreamland Beach while the waters in the vaster shore of Jimbaran Bay rotate with the gray sand beneath it to procure an almost ash-navy color.

And then of course, there’s Sulawesi – a street that doesn’t scream glamour at first glance. It is a relatively short lane with unmaintained buildings with stores that keep the area alive and interesting. Each shop has a chockfull of fabrics in hundreds of variants. For someone who went to Bali in pursuit of distinctive prints, I had a difficult time fixating my eyes on a single roll of cloth. There were way more patterns and so much more colors than I had imagined. It was enough cause for frustration for not knowing which ones to pick, and a whole lot of hoping that I had more money to hoard a bunch of textile I’m not sure what to use for. In the end, I settled for prints on canvas we found in a little store at the very end of Jalan Sulawesi.

It was very hard to miss the obvious that Indo natives have excellent craftsmanship. That reflected everywhere – capiz and glass lamps in playful tones being sold in lots of humble shops along highways; miniature and medium-sized wood carvings in auburn, cream and brown; intricately embellished stone pagodas in temples; and stunning geometric fixtures in various furniture shops in neons and pastels, among a mob of others. Looking back, I wish we had taken more photographs of the unique furnishings we saw. I’m leaving it to your imagination for now.

Beachfront bars in Seminyak had distinctly-colored bean bags and umbrellas; restaurants screamed machuka and caramba; merchandise in the Legian and Ubud markets were comprised of patterned clothing, hand-painted paperweights, and a carnival of bags.

And of course, it was pretty easy to notice the varying nationalities of the island’s tourists. Apart from the red and white of Indonesia; greens, blues, blacks and yellows from various travelers from Europe amassed the place. The blue, white and red of Australia however, particularly stood out in the busier areas.

Bali was a feast to the eyes, heart and palette. I have gained a distinct liking for its procession of hues that says a lot about its people and culture.

I look forward to once again stepping foot in Bali at an indefinite time, to see more unthinkable fruits of creativity, fuelled by passion for beauty, and ultimately, to revel in all of the glorious island’s splendid colors.

*Photos by Dijo Songco

November 2, 2014

Starting with Something

I have not chronicled most of my travels this year and it daunts me to think of all the places I’ve gone to and all the adventures and misadventures that I haven’t written about.

I distinctly remember wanting to start writing about my trips to relive my magical moments, and even the not-so-glamorous parts of traveling. But then, kaput. It’s so easy to pick an excuse between being busy and claiming to be tired. But then I browse through my phone photos and see Instagram and Facebook screen caps of nonsensical funny posts, mostly from people I don’t personally know, and I think to myself how much down time I’ve actually had.

So I guess I have to start again with something.

Perhaps if I put it into writing and publish it somewhere, I would have more motivation to stick to my word.

Posting something once a week couldn’t possibly be time-consuming. So I’ll begin there. I would have to do a lot of browsing through the messy scribbles in my journal and notes in my phone to backtrack from February though. But it’s a start. And new beginnings are, more often than not, promising.

For now, I leave you with a photo from a recent trip to Cagayan.

Till next week! 🙂

July 25, 2014

The Enchanted River of Hinatuan

I think I just saw heaven.

I’m not sure how it’s supposed to look like or how other people imagine it to be. My mere inference is that it probably looks perfect and unreal. And those are the two words that could possibly come close to my perception of the Enchanted River of Hinatuan.

The river was easily labelled enchanted due to the legends spoken about it. That illusion of an ivory-skinned lady appearing when the sky loses its glimmer is a perpetual image that gives an eerie feeling when faced with this sanctuary.

But linger and you’ll see the golden outline from the crystalline brook flowing and wading through the clearly visible gliding fish. Dive as deep as you can and know that isn’t the deepest it can get. Hear the echoing screeches of the kids who’ve become so accustomed to the cold, they don’t bother testing it anymore. Lie still on your back and let the stream slowly caress you as it thrusts you from your starting point to the rope that you can later cling onto in case you get tired from paddling your legs to keep your head on the surface.

Having your ear submerged in the water will give you goose bumps because of the sound of what may be swerving fish. But once you open your eyes, you see the bent over towering trees with crisscrossed branches that peep through the sky above it. It seems like seeing through an embroidered piece of clothing, facing west, dangling on a clothesline, right before the magic hour. Uncanny, alluring, dumbfounding.

The descriptive sights stop there and you realize no words will ever be enough to bring out a close-to-accurate depiction of the place. And then you simply resort to claiming you’ve seen heaven.

*Photos by Dijo Songco

May 4, 2014

Why Batanes Is Beautiful

I shut my eyes for a few seconds to take everything in and somehow commune with the lurking good energy that’s been a constant since our first day in Batanes. As my lids come to a full open, I realize that this sight is beginning to look like the last one I saw. Breathtaking still and easy on the eyes but not a whole lot different from the mishmash of hills, glimmering water and the seemingly unending horizon we’ve been seeing for days now. But somehow, I can pinpoint why this place continues to entrance me.

I’ve always been told that Batanes is beautiful. And I presently bang my head in exaggerated agreement with a mental amen. Yet I find it distressing to narrate how beautiful it is for fear of falling short in encapsulating the magic I see in the place.

Batanes is way beyond a postcard-worthy scene or an inspiration for a canvas. It isn’t merely the Switzerland of the Philippines or the place upon where Marlboro country stands. It’s definitely more than a far flung group of islands with a dormant volcano that erupted to procure a beach so uniquely striking due to the tons of boulders amassing its shoreline. It surpasses its charm of housing some of the most unique local artworks and masterpieces I’ve seen, be it in the form of towering lighthouses or a simple rice dealer’s storage space. And it’s more than a series of spots tourists amass for jump shots by an arresting sun down or daunting selfies while inside an elusive Japanese hideout.

I find Batanes rather beautiful for its honesty stores. And the people buying from honesty stores. Because these are the very people who made one wake up one day thinking that a shack of a livelihood will thrive in this kind of place.

Batanes is beautiful for its stone houses not only due to their story book-esque facade. What makes an Ivatan house beautiful is the numerous months spent building it. And the willingness of Ivatans to put hard labor into their neighbor’s house because they know that the cogon will serve as shelter that would house them both on stormy and blazing days for the next 30 years. And the evident protruding veins of aged Ivatans from stacking a limestone block on top of another to house their families and have something to call home. They help build other people’s houses without expecting anything at all. Perhaps a warm Ivatan beam and a gratified heart will always suffice for them.

The fact that there are not enough rooms to house a massive herd of tourists is peculiarly worthy of a firm salute. There’s nothing more enticing than a place shrouded with oxygen shared with more cattle than people. And the Vayang Rolling Hills will always be better off looking dapper in its green cloak with minimal trails from wandering feet.

What makes Batanes beautiful is the constant warmth I’ve been feeling from the time we were picked up from the airport. The place is so unpretending and it need not be because its true form is what makes it astonishing. Batanes feels like home. And by home, I literally mean our house – the one I live in with my mom and brother. Only this is a gargantuan playing field with way more people than my clan from both sides combined. I say this because home will always be my safety net. It’s a place where I can harmonize with people I trust and at the same time a shelter where I can choose to be alone and still be at peace.

What makes Batanes captivating is its people and their stories. I met Aling Matel and Tatay Francisco and I will always remember the conversations I shared with them. This is what I can truly take with me wherever I go: a small part of each person I cross paths with.

Life is not always about rainbows and butterflies and fluff. As much as I constantly work my way toward that which makes me happy, numerous moments of being stuck in a rut or feeling lonely and angry are inevitable. After all, I’ve never believed utopia to be attainable.

But somehow, Batanes makes me trust in the innate goodness of people. It’s an indication that a life of revelry is still out there somewhere; that our faith in humanity can be restored. That happiness will never be entirely achieved with a materialistic mind. Batanes has instilled in me that there will always be a ton of reasons to visit a place beyond its sights.

Batanes will always be beautiful and it’s not very difficult to see why.

*Some photos by Dijo Songco

January 28, 2014

Discovering Seoul

We flew to Seoul without a definite plan and having nil expectation of the city, minus the cold weather. While I somewhat felt like we wasted a reasonable amount of time that could have been spent seeing other parts of it, I quite abnormally delighted at times in not knowing the precise direction from point A to point B or what we were supposed to do after we’ve maxed out what had to be done in point B. Of course, it induced a certain level of stress plus a bonus dead toe nail that resulted from all the incessant strutting in my boots that I only broke into on our first day in Korea. But I’m a fan of mini surprises, and I was reminded that the trail to point B presented endless versions of those. Don’t get me wrong. The spots we intended to go to still stand to be the highlights of our trip. I would tell every South-Korea-vacationing friend to spend a whole day in Nami Island for its scenic spots (no matter what season, I can imagine) and fun activities that suit pretty much any type of traveling group. The Changdeokgung and Changgyeonggung Palaces are also worth a visit for viewing of intricate Korean architecture. On a side note, I regret not having been able to proceed to the Secret Garden due to schedule constraints.

Surely, Bukchon offers a mix of rich history that would make one appreciate the limitless stories of Seoul.

And even if the love locks in the N Seoul Tower were a tad bit too cheesy for my liking, Dij and I got a lock anyway and fastened it in a spot I still vividly remember.

Dij wanted to check out a particular restaurant called Brooklyn: The Burger Joint and maaaaan was it a haven of all things unbelievably glorious. My Cheese Skirt Burger and glass of Burnt Marshmallow Nutella Milkshake pictured below should be enough proof of a disastrous party in my mouth.

To cap it off, a last-minute stop at Gangnam to trace the roots of the infamous song’s mocking nature was not bad either. An area within it called Garosu-gil somewhat reminded me of Oxford Street in London, although I’d still go for Myeongdong for shopping.

But in between these marvelous sightings, unexpected things arose and they possibly more than made up for my dismay of not having been able to have my first shot at skiing. A first case in point would be chancing upon a Hello Kitty Cafe and a Trick Eye Museum in our attempt to find this other burger joint that turned out to be under renovation. We spent a considerable period of time in both, bemusing ourselves with the overwhelming number of things where a famous cat’s face could be plastered and committing to certain poses for a picture in the museum, no matter how idiotic we looked in front of a crowd lined up to get a similar-looking photograph as ours.

Also, imagine my delight in seeing a little corner on top of Ssamziegil in Insadong, populated with hanging tags with random notes, most of which I did not understand. And my excitement in chancing upon random restaurants that served really good samgyeopsal. I wish I knew how to read or at least imitate how they would pronounce the restaurants’ names so I could give them due credit. But all I got to bring home with me were lamely taken photos of the places’ names to be seen in the facade.

Notable scenes were likewise sighted at random times when we didn’t really expect it. Picture my enthralment in spontaneously dining on a level of N Seoul Tower, facing a vast view of city lights while feasting on good Italian food and wine as a treat for my approaching birthday.

While it really would have been nice if we had seen Samcheong Park before dusk, seeing it in a mixture of a dark blue and purple backdrop was stunning in its own right (and color).

And again, while we tried to figure out which bus we should ride going to the tower, we got to take a seat on a pavement by the Lotte Department Store in Myeongdong and watch the day end as the sun dramatically crept down. It was the moment I thought to myself that Seoul just might be the most captivating city I’ve gone to thus far in Asia. And that’s why I say getting lost and begrudgingly trying to find our way around it was not so bad after all.

It is the in-betweens that ultimately fill my story with much rhythm. Seoul is a melting pot of interesting finds, amiable locals and rich heritage with thousands of historic years behind it. I did not get to see most parts of the city but the little surprises here and there essentially exceeded my expectations of it. It made me realize that it’s a place worth coming back to and I won’t really mind finding my way out of an almost empty alley if it would mean stumbling upon an awesome chicken and beer place, or a cool basement bookstore, or maybe even Psy… Okay, the last one may be pushing it a bit too far but you get my point. 😀

*Most photos by Dijo Songco

December 20, 2013

Turning 24 in Seoul

3… 2… 1… “Happy birthday!!!” yells Dij in his excited tone that I hear every so often. It’s 12 midnight in Seoul and I’m caught in an internal debate of whether I should throw my hands in the air and hug him tight, the tightness being indicative of my thanks and acceptance that I’ve really turned 24, or forcefully say that it’s only 11pm in a more familiar place called Manila and I have an hour more to relish this age of my alleged early 20s (and yes, my thoughts really are long enough to turn into run-on sentences and be followed by a parenthetical remark when translated into writing). I wrap my arms around him anyway and say thanks.

We put on two more layers of clothing as we prepare to head out of our hostel. With wobbly legs and shaking voices, we brace the cold to find a place to drink. I honestly just really want to enter a random bar and cozy up in the warm indoors. It’s my first time to experience winter and the coldness really is numbing. My fingers feel like they were dipped in a stainless steel bucket that’s supposedly for chilling wine. It’s not such a nice sensation when you don’t have a towel to cover it after.

We once again end up in Wabar, a pub we chanced upon yesterday on our way home. Only one other table is occupied by a group of men, proposing cheers on a Saturday night. This really is a nice place, mostly furnished with wood and raggedly designed as if to say they don’t really care about how the bar looks like. But really, it looks like they’ve given it much thought.

Dij booked us tickets to Korea when I was 22 and a half. It was one of his gifts for my 23rd birthday. It’s almost surreal that I’m here, one and a half years later, sipping on my bottle of Cass thinking in general about the years behind me and the years ahead of me. Contrary to popular belief, I’m far from being an expert at living in the present. The past enthrals me. It’s my comfort zone – a place I love talking about, even the bad parts of it, because I’ve surpassed it. The future scares me. And it’s difficult to let go of a thought that scares you. It’s indefinite, something to be cautious of, a zone of the unknown. And yet, here I am, struggling to live in the present since I know it’ll comprise my done thats and outline a silhouette of what’s to come.

Maybe a way of living in the present is accepting that I’m already 24 because right now, I’m in Seoul. And the small hand on the clock has been pointing at a line passed 12 since some 50 minutes ago. I now think about how my 23rd year went and I realize it was about a series of nows. I allowed myself to live in the now that time I set a meeting with my former boss to tell him I was leaving. Have I been happy? Of course, I have. But maybe now is not a time for assessment because then, I’d be contradicting myself.

Seoul has been a charming city so far and I’m sure tomorrow will yet again bring us a good dose of fascination. But for now, I clink my bottle to Dij’s glass to being 24 and having been 23, if that even makes any sense.

We head out of Wabar and endure this negative something temperature, or something that feels like it. I realize that I don’t feel any much older than I have earlier. Maybe I really should look at age as just a haunting figure. Anyway 24 feels much like 23, just maybe a lot colder.

*Photos by Dijo Songco

October 29, 2013

Scabs from Siquijor

I stare at the three small scabs on my right leg that I currently want to scrape off. But as I gently touch one of them, I notice a wound on my left knuckle – an unnoticeable one that instigates a kind of twitching sensation every time it rubs against something. And as I narrate the insignificant goings-on on my skin, I suddenly wish I could claim that I still have a little scratch on my nose just to add a little more pizzazz to my story. (Un)fortunately, the graze healed and faded several days ago.

I recount these tiny abrasions on my pelt as they remain testaments to what part of Siquijor I still have with me. The scabs and wound acquired from daring moments allow me to stay in the recent past – one that I very much want to dwell on and keep at present.

Siquijor is magical. It is a place of wonder and adventure, an asylum of lushness and serenity, a territory that shrouded our profuse laughter and singing screeches. I went there with my high school best friends and Dij without really knowing what to expect. We booked flights almost a year ago and didn’t know anything much about the place, save for an infamous picture of a body of water shot from elevated terrain, and eerie tales about faith healers. But of course, it was way more than that.

I vividly recall making a sign of the cross before hastily bending and throwing myself into the ocean by the shore of Salagdoong, apparently the one in the infamous picture I was talking about. The splash was painful but the flight down was glorious. My brief second of descent from a height of 20 feet felt more like five seconds of prancing in the air and anticipating the immersion of my pointed toes in the water. With my eyes wide open as gravity pulled me down, I lost all feelings of anxiousness as I saw the turquoise water gently swaying with the soft whistles of the wind and the clear blue sky that patiently awaited dusk. Trish hence followed, then Pat, then Dij.

It was in Cambugahay Falls that we exhausted most of our energy, this time, with Missy, also a ball of happiness and Trish’s best friend. The sight of the wading aqua green was calming and taking a dip in it was refreshing. We all watched in awe at the little boys freely doing the Tarzan with big grins on their innocent faces. Sans inhibition, I got off the water, sheepishly reached for the wooden handle hanging on the rope, bent my knees until I dangled freely then swung and let go to be enveloped by the coldness of the stream. We all swung several times, with each one seemingly the first. And as if this wasn’t enough to quench our self-proclaimed young and adventurous feet, we also jumped from above the falls. We looked like fools having a whole lot of fun. For us though, it’s always the ‘having a whole lot of fun’ part that only matters.

We further explored the town, attempted to dry our clothes by hanging them in our moving easy ride, dipped our feet in the pool by the Balete tree, marveled at the sight of Cang-Isok, the oldest surviving house in Siquijor, said our prayers outside Lazi Church, met up with our friend, Dans, ate in a carinderia that served possibly the best value meals we had in Siquijor, and watched in silence at the mangroves in Guiwanon.

We began heading back to our resort in Sandugan Beach just as the sun’s harsh rays alleviated to a subtler enlivening hue. Dans swung on the hammock, Missy, Pat and I keenly observed the starfishes, while Dij and Trish took multiple shots of our dramatic backdrop. The sunset didn’t fail to highlight the splendor of the moment, as it always does. And with that, we called it a beautiful day.

We spent our two remaining days in Dumaguete, a charming city I’d love to go back to. We ate excellent food, stopped at the stunning attractions such as the Belfry and Silliman University, and savored the breeze as we strolled along the Baywalk. As Dans put it, Dumaguete is a place where she’d willingly raise her future kids. The city is worth a story of its own and I’d happily tell it when I get the chance to stay there longer.

As I examine my scabs, I realize I don’t know exactly when I got them. It was most likely acquired after jumping off the cliff or falls, or perhaps sometime in between doing the Tarzan. Travel scabs are what I call them – reminders of the slight mishaps acquired from taking risks and saying yes to great adventures. And as they gradually dry up completely, I try to hold on dearly to the enchantment that was Siquijor so it won’t merely be a fleeting memory, but a lingering euphoric emotion.

*Some photos by Dijo Songco

September 29, 2013

Filling in the Blank

A few months ago, I proclaimed a certain steadfastness in my wanting to quench my curiosity for great unknowns. On the onset of it though, I’ve decided to reap something out of it. A part of me has always jokingly questioned whether I’ve been doing something that would stir change in the world, or wherever there may be to add some sort of color to. I wanted to do something that would fill in the blank in the statement “Changing the world, one ____ at a time.”

In the past five months, I’ve traveled. I saw wonders that were beyond the seams of my imagination and wonders that I’ve long been familiar with but only recently developed an appreciation for. I worked on a certain project that entailed going to off-beaten paths and talking to farmers. I made a dream come true in Spain and made friends in a ginormous ship. I marveled at the sight of the impending crash of the ocean waves at night, gently caressing the gritty shoreline. I tried to catch several sunsets from different faces of the planet and was delighted to welcome the light of day while watching one particular sunrise.

In the past five months, I’ve eaten good food. Lots of it. In a beach and a farm and a random pavement of a street I can’t recall the name of.

In the past five months, I basked in whatever situation I was in. I sweated out of my clothes and wreaked the stink of horses in Masbate. I celebrated an anniversary in Palawan and a birthday in Boracay. I sulked over two cancelled Asian trips, but bounced back and booked more plane tickets with every scurrying chance of a seat sale (and I promise to catch up and put musings about those experiences into writing really soon). I drenched myself under the harsh heat of the sun, most of the time sans my SPF 100. Needless to say, over the past five months, my skin tone gradually turned into a kind of tan that I exaggeratedly perturb as color black.

In the past five months, I’ve had a very sunny disposition. I’ve imbibed a kind of contentment that I somehow want to share with other people.

In my attempt to fill in the blank above, I thought I had to do what would mesh my having something to do with the rest of the world and the happiness that I wish to contribute to it.

And so Bookie was born. Bookie is something Dij and I have been talking about since last year – something that we, as frequent travelers have been wanting to start. In a nutshell, Bookie is an unconventional booking platform (as I’d like to call it due to the traditional connotation that’s tied to a travel agency) that caters to different types of travelers. Right now, we’re focused on offering trips to different local destinations.

In the past five months, Dij and I, together with a close and dear friend, Trish have gone to Davao, Ilocos and Boracay to further explore the destinations and see everything each one has to offer. Dij and I checked out different lodging options, tried out looooots of restaurants and visited various places while Trish patiently took photos for us. We particularly wanted to see the hotels, taste the food and do the activities ourselves so we could very well guide our fellow travelers in designing their own trips. Of course, none of it came easy. It wasn’t comprised of all things nice and glamorous. We had to cut down on our personal costs and struggled to research on a whole lot of things. To a certain extent, we gave up certain facets of the lifestyle we’ve become accustomed to.

But we stand by something. We wish for others to make the most out of their travels, whatever budget or interests they have. We make sure that we see each hotel, dine in each restaurant and do each activity we feature and recommend.

Our travels have been quite a handful and we haven’t even hurdled half of the legwork yet. But I continue to do this as I explore the Philippines in the hopes of eliciting a similar kind of emotion from family, friends and strangers, stemming from the natural high brought about by discovering a certain charm in different places.

I wish for people to chase after their own sunsets, get tangled in the motion of the dancing waves of the sea and look at a place with awe and greater appreciation. I wish to be part of out of town birthday celebrations and honeymoons and partake in a banquet in some hidden garden restaurant way up north. I wish to be part of memories worth uploading a whole album for on Facebook and moments worth telling ones best friend.

Megan Young was crowned Miss World 2013 last night and Filipino pride aside, I felt really fulfilled to have booked for her family’s Bali visit to witness her grace the stage and be hailed the first Filipina to bag that title. Seeing a photo of her mom shedding tears of joy made me feel like I did something right.

I also got a text message the other day from a customer who was in Davao at that time. She was basically thanking Bookie for, well, booking their trip. She said her mom was really happy with the trip and that they were looking forward to booking another one with us. That really made my heart smile.

I haven’t quite filled up the blank up there yet but today, ‘happy mom’ will do. 🙂

July 13, 2013

Annifoursary in Dos Palmas

When my boyfriend, Dijo and I were planning our fourth anniversary trip, I didn’t think twice when I found an opportunity for us to go to Dos Palmas in Puerto Princesa, Palawan. Although I’ve been blessed to have gone to what I call Palawan’s splendid three namely Puerto Princesa, Coron and El Nido, I never cease to want to see more of it.

Saying that Palawan is a gem would be an understatement because Palawan, in my book, is God’s presence before my eyes, however cliché or cheesy that may have sounded. What I’ve seen of it has always left me literally questioning how anything natural could look like a masterpiece. And Dos Palmas just stirred my probing even more.

We got to the island on a sunny Thursday noon and were each greeted by the staff with a glass of four seasons before being ushered to our room, which was actually big enough to house up to four people. The resort kind of reminded me of Miniloc in El Nido, only Dos Palmas was much bigger and Miniloc’s feel was a little more old-world.

After settling down, we had buffet barbecue lunch by the shore where bamboo tables and benches were set up to complete the ambiance. For the rest of the day, we practically just relaxed, took a nap, and lay down in one of their wooden cabanas fronting the beach. Dij biked a lot as there were bikes for guests’ use, and I had a good dose of sand-strolling because I’m kind of a loser who’s never learned how to ride a bike. I am shamelessly admitting though that I attempted for quite a long time to ride while we were there at the expense of Dij’s sweat and labor but to no avail. And so I left the learning for next time and just enjoyed the perfect sting of scorch while sipping on my not-so-yummy watermelon ginger refresher, until such time that the sun was almost setting and we decided to view it from one of the two long entrance bridges.

If you’ve read my cruise entry, you’d know my sentiment about sunsets. And it naturally applied in that moment. Only this time, it was special because I was home celebrating a milestone with Dij, and entrenching myself in a sentimental situation of observing a picturesque view of sundown and thinking about the dreamy side of it. I don’t know how it happened but at one point, the view of the sky and its reflection in the ocean was literally split vertically with one side being orange and the other, blue. “Leave Him with the crayons and let Him do His thang,” as Dij put it in his Instagram post. Well then I guess God spent a little more time shading with his Crayola that day and it really made my heart smile.

To our pleasant surprise, dinner tables were set up in the open pool garden with surrounding trees and a movie projector on the side. That night, we ordered Kare-kare and Grilled Pork Belly from the restaurant, which I highly commend. Coupling good food with the outdoor beach ambiance made the experience even better.

We woke up to a gloomy morning the next day that didn’t look at all like it planned to shove the clouds away. In between our meals comprised of Bacon and Pancakes during breakfast and Spare Ribs, Squid Adobado, and Chicken Inasal during lunch, we kayaked to the mangroves, which took, more or less, 15 minutes of paddling and taking pictures in between. The mangrove area evoked sort of an eerie aura because of the complete silence, except for the gurgling of the water stream and rustles of the leaves whenever we maneuvered the wrong way and hit the mangroves.

Come 4:30 in the afternoon, we decided to snorkel in a nearby spot where we were brought by a speedboat, and greeted the colorful marine fellas constantly vying to get more of the breadcrumbs we brought for them. It would’ve been better if the water were calmer. The winds caused stronger current, which made it difficult to move around, save for being swayed by the ocean’s motion. The swaying was worth it though since I saw a massive amount of fish that seemed like they wanted to give me a smack on the cheek.

That night, after our dinner snack of Cheese Sticks and BLT, coupled with a few rounds of beer, we took a dip in the pool and I prayed hard for good weather on our last day. My cousin, Jill once thought out loud about how she was wishing for good weather to the beach gods. And ever since, I’ve had this idea that there were lurking spirits surrounding islands I could safely call beach gods. So I pleaded to them for sunlight the next day.

Of course, they didn’t fail me. They never fail me. A smiling señor sol greeted me with burning rays come Saturday morning, and it was more than enough to round up our trip. Right after breakfast, we went to a nearby island called Isla Puting Buhangin, which was roughly seven minutes away by boat.

It’s a really small islet; so small that you can view the entire shoreline when you swim just a few meters away from it. It had nipa huts in the center, a hammock on the side, some towering trees, an extending strip of sandbar, and gritty sand that’s of the lightest shade of mocha. It’s no Entalula but it’s light enough to be called puting buhangin. Dij told me that it must’ve be one of the most beautiful islands he had been to. And I can see why.

I am happiest at the beach. Although I make it a point to be happy wherever I am, there’s something about the combination of sand, saltwater and sun that spells happiness amidst the nothingness. That’s why my psyche goes ballistic when I discover islands such as this, and assuming the life of a hermit is more than enough to make me forget all of the world’s different sorts of negative energy.

We left the islet and headed back to Dos Palmas at noon, and we kayaked once again before I drenched myself in the blazing sunrays, until I acquired the kind of tan-ness that almost looked funny. We then had a final satiating meal, before we departed the island at around four in the afternoon.

I’ve always had this viewpoint that the company comprises a large part of how ones travels turn out to be. Dij and I are both in love with beaches. I’m not one for mushiness and sap 90 percent of the time. But that 10 percent of cheese in me somehow emerged when I realized that being together in that island for three days reminded me of why we’re together at all.

*Some photos by Dijo Songco

June 21, 2013

My Very Own Titanic: The Liberty of the Seas

Before our vacation, the little knowledge I had about ships was merely derived from a three-hour movie we’ve all known as Titanic. I knew that I could possibly meet prospective Jacks. And that ships could look like hotels. And that I could maybe fly. And that there are fancy dinners. Lots of it. And that someone could draw me wearing a necklace and only a necklace. And that ice burgs are to be afraid of. And that the best thing to do when the ship sinks and you don’t get to ride on a boat is to ride on a floating door, if it’s one of the remnants of the wrecked ship. And it’s good to have a whistle in your pocket in case of emergency.

It was only when I went on a five-day cruise that I realized the true essence of cruising beyond a sob movie. It involved a lot of shivering and eating and themed dances and parties and the whole shebang. It involved birds and the captain and befriending and exploring each port. We were in a ship that carried 4,000 passengers and so much food and energy, and time was not enough for us to do what could be done in the 12-deck craft.

And so I came up with a list of my top 10 things to tell someone who has as limited knowledge of the ship as I had before my Western Mediterranean encounter in my very own Titanic, the Liberty of the Seas.

1. Eat each meal like it was your last. The food is already part of what you paid for. Meaning it practically feels like you’re having free breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks everyday. There’s an option to dine in the buffet area called Windjammer or the more formal dining area nicked as the Botticelli Restaurant. We preferred dining in Botticelli though since it was quieter and they served quality gourmet meals. But stuff yourself and eat to your heart’s (or your tummy’s) content. Order eggs ben for breakfast and eat all the burger that you can at lunch. Gladly accept the special adobo that Reuben, the head waiter prepared for dinner even if it’s of a different take from the adobo you’ve come to know and love. Eat ‘til you’re sleepy. Eat ‘til you have sufficient energy for the day.

2. Go down at every port. In our case, our stops were Cannes, France, and La Spezia and Rome, Italy. We maximized our time and did what we could in every stop, given that the ship only docked from 8am to 5pm in every place. We ate in a modern French restaurant called Mocca in Cannes, and roamed its streets and people-watched in a nude beach. From La Spezia, we went to Pisa to celebrate Mother’s Day by the famous Leaning Tower and the Duomo beside it. We lay down on the grass, and neared a state of slumber when we were jolted by giggles from a group of friends also seated near us. Finally, we revisited Vatican City and the romantic streets of Rome. We ate pizza and gelato and once again, made a wish at Fontana Di Trevi. It is said that making a wish in that fountain guarantees a next trip to Rome. And maybe this is true because my wish from two years back was granted. And with all this, I say you do the same. Explore and make the most out of your nine hours in each destination. Discover part of the city, ride their trains, find interesting wall signs and hurry back to your ship at the end of the day.

3. Watch shows. Remember Cirque du Soleil? The ship has a version of it. It’s called In the Air. And if you haven’t watched a show on ice, take a chance to watch the crew dance and glide on glassy frozen water.

4. Attend the Captain’s Night. You’ll be surprised at all the merry-making that happens in the ship. Consider the Captain’s Night an excuse to glam it up and see everyone garbed in decent clothing. It’s a chance for you to meet and greet the captain. It doesn’t matter if he speaks in garbled words or in hushed tones for no one to hear. It’s just nice to kind of feel that you belong in this swarm of passengers that the captain is welcoming aboard. And all these are happening while you’re sipping on a free glass or two of champagne.

5. Attend the White Party. Even if majority of the crowd is comprised of senior citizens. It’s always fun to watch choo-choo train dances going around the top deck of a moving ship at night. More so because it’s a packed crowd of literally all kinds of nationalities in white. It’s fun and you sort of forget about the rest of the world while ironically mingling with people of the world. All these folks are coming together for this kind of clowning around and merry-making so join them. Make fun of them and make fun of yourself. Most of the people there are retired and just want to have plain solid fun and don’t really care about what you think. So stop caring about what they think and be as awkward as you can be.

6. Make new friends. Out of the 4,000 passengers in the ship, make at least three friends. It doesn’t matter what age they are and where they’re from. The ship is as diverse as diverse gets. If anything, I was quite surprised to find more than five Filipino passengers there. I knew I was there to have quality time with my family but there were way too many people around me to resist not talking to them. I met Heftsiba, a middle-aged redhead flute diva from Israel who taught me how to say shalom and toda raba, whose of a very interesting mix, coming from Yemeni and South African descent. And Sergei, a nine-year-old boy from Santa Rita in Spain who is every bit of sophisticated, being suited up and being so polite while ordering his Sprite from the waiter while waiting for In the Air to start. And our cabin keeper, Norwin from Jamaica who makes birds and monkeys out of towels. And the friendly Filipino crew, some of whom were Maria, Fermolito and Harold, who were very cordial and accommodating. Talk to the guy on the roof deck or the kids in the elevator singing and dancing Gangnam Style. Talk to anyone who seems interested; not necessarily one who seems interesting.

7. Explore. Gamble in the casino. Check out the auction. Go to Starbucks or the cupcake store. Have a family photo shoot. Have a dip in the Jacuzzi. Play hide and seek and end up in the bunk bed of your cabin. Have a round of beer in Hoof & Claw Pub. Play arcade. Walk for wishes. Learn how to burn fat fast. Guess that Michael Jackson tune at The Sphinx. Join the soccer competition at the sports court. And at the end of the day, get a massage.

8. Walk along the top deck track. I typically rested on one of the beach beds and watched people, if there were any. There were occasionally smokers or joggers up there. But for most of it, I found myself wondering where everyone was, and ended up roaming around the track, taking photos of birds, the sea and the skyline. Walk along the track and do the flying pose in Titanic and reenact the scene where Rose saw a boat and let her coarse voice endure compulsory squealing. It’s fun up there and it’s what you’ll probably miss most after your trip.

9. Watch the sunset. Block off at least one afternoon and patiently watch it. I just recently realized something about sunsets. It’s this natural thing that occurs daily but means different things to different people at different times in different ends of the world. And yet, all these levels of difference all boil down to a unifying idea – that witnessing sunsets is special. It’s indicative of a day’s end yet still being alive and watching it. It’s the same sun that goes down wherever you are yet that ‘wherever you are’ determines how glorified the final orange burst of light looks like. It’s, in fact, your surroundings that determine the specialness of the moment. Others marvel at the picturesque Boracay sunset. A honeymoon couple may be witnessing their first sunset together at Benirras in Ibiza and it’s marvelous because of the romantic air. And perhaps for me, the sunset on our last day was wonderful because I didn’t know where I was. And this brings me to my last point.

10. Constantly remind yourself that you don’t know where you are. That special moment watching the sunset was the only time I’d have the chance of witnessing the last burst of orange rays in that particular spot of where-am-I-ness. All I saw was a massive blanket of water, the dark heavy clouds, and that final surge of fiery color that illuminated my face in a dramatic way. I guess, after this long-arse babble, it’s what the ship is supposed to be about. Exploring, eating, making friends, and doing all that jazz while in the middle of nowhere. The sense of not knowing will always keep you wondering and the inaccuracy of your knowledge of where you are makes things seem a bit simpler. When asked what you did, you say you met people and saw places and watched the sunset somewhere in the ocean. And it was damn splendid.

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