LINCOLN BREWSTER

Makes you want to re-learn guitar all over again

BORACAY

More than a commercialized island getaway

BOOKS

Since I got converted, I've developed the caution on reading books already. So the selection I have was trimmed down to safer genres and those that I can use for God's Kingdom Advancement.

HEALING AND MIRACLE FESTIVAL

Listen and be healed.

Apostolic Concepts: On Ash Wednesdays

How our lives should always be centered on God and God alone.

Showing posts with label walks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label walks. Show all posts

Friday, April 15, 2011

When Something Moves Us All

Jeep from mutyang.deviantart.com


I am sitting at the edge of a midsized jeepney. On my way to EDSA MRT, I am secluded from the traffic noise through the ear plugs that deliver me Matisyahu. On my hand is a book I’ve been reading for days for my 70-book challenge. I am more than ever keen on finishing it this weekend to the point of blindness. A woman sits across me, eyeing me for some strange reason and I eye her back. A couple more of insecure stares and I lose her completely between the prose of my favorite author.

The jeepney stops its nth stop from the corner of Heritage Hotel to the station. We impatiently wait for the next acceleration when a kid enters the jeepney and hands out small white envelopes for the passengers. A soiled envelope lands on top of my book and I hide it between the pages so I can continue reading. He’s one of those Badjao beggars who sing songs in an unknown language and get donation via those white – or brown, I can’t tell – envelopes.

Call me heartless, but faced with these circumstances, I do not easily oblige a moment of charity unless I am lead to. There is a clear argument here though, and I am not about to embark on a lengthy litany on charity and poverty. What I want to talk about is the Orwell-ish event that took place after the envelopes were given to us.

He sits on the entrance facing the oncoming traffic behind us. This is common. Badjao children normally sit there, but this child is different because he has no musical instrument with him. Typically, these kids bring makeshift drums and other percussion instruments that are beyond naming. Though not looking, I am actually very interested in what the child will be doing next. They commonly have good voices. Perhaps an oceanic serenade is about to be performed. 

He claps his hands. Reminds me of an episode in Party Pilipinas while I wait for possible scripts written by my friend, Rsh – if not for her, I would never have known such a show really exists. The child mutters a couple of random oh, oh, yeah, yeah.

OK. It’s becoming more and more interesting. I still bore my eyes into the book pages, but I am not reading anymore.

More oh’s and woah’s, and the rhythm of the clap is suddenly becoming more and more familiar.

I’ve heard it somewhere. I scan my brain for possible ethnic songs I can still remember. Pinikpikan, Kadangyan, even those I’ve heard from my Igorot and Kalinga friends, I try to hum.

The child ends my stupor and utters the very words my past-evoking methods fail to provide.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. I know you love me, I know you care…”

If I could fall off my secured seat, I would have. The other passengers seem to secretly be bothered by it. Maybe in our collective desire to play normal, we really couldn’t do it. The child continues his song. I am laughing so hard, my smile leaks off my hanky. The girl I earlier had an eye war with plays dead. She doesn’t move an inch. The rest of the passengers shift their position, in an attempt to stay comfortable during such trying circumstances. Justin Bieber rings in our ears like a soundtrack of a movie I cannot recall. There’s more traffic outside, more people carrying morning burdens on their way to work. More and more people trying to get by their day, and in a world full of earthquakes and tsunami, we are enslaved by a Justin Bieber magnum opus rendered by an innocent Badjao kid. He finishes the song in less than two minutes, probably skipping the bridge if there’s a bridge. He stands up, collects his envelope – all of which are empty.

He alights, unmoved.

Perhaps he knows. Wrong song.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Cheap Transpo to Boracay

Boracay Frisbee
For those trying to get the cheapest way to go to Boracay, please note that it is not impossible with gifts of patience, wit and internet connection speed.

I booked my flight during the peak of a seat sale in Cebu Pacific. That’s an advantage in planning all your trips. Normally, they have seat sales during holidays like Xmas, New  Year, Chinese New Year, etc. For promos, like their page on Facebook and follow them on Twitter to get updates. Last December, they had this crazy Piso Sale for domestic flights. I was so overwhelmed I couldn’t make up my mind on what seats to buy and to where. The moment I got in, all the seats I wanted were gone. So you better have dates in mind and places to go as early as now. The next Piso Sale could be anytime soon.

Every single person I was going with in this flight already had their tickets booked and was waiting for my final decision on my itinerary.  My friend, Edl is a flight attendant in CebuPac and was calling me frantically about their flight schedule and was asking me if I could join. She called me during the final hours of the seat sale. It was cheap and logically, she wanted me to make up my mind fast because the seats were being taken and the prices surging. It was during the CebuPac seat sale that I bought my tickets in PAL.

I prepared P2300 for my tickets. I failed to pay on my first month so I had to pay the surcharge of the credit card company for another few pesos. My friends paid almost P3500 for their airfare. Teehee. My best friend hated it. I told you, patience is a virtue. If it doesn’t get you CebuPac seats, it gets you Philippine Airlines. For the rest of the transpo allowance you need to know, I made a rundown of all the expenses you might incur. This is if you are:
  • Travelling alone
  • Landing in Kalibo
  • In a hurry but wants to travel cheap

Airfare
       P2500 – P3500
Taxi to the airport
       P120 – P200
Tricycle from Kalibo to jeepney/shuttle terminal
       P80 – P100
Shuttle from Kalibo to Caticlan
       P100
Boat from Caticlan to Boracay
       P120 (unless you’re a 
       local – and I am! I mean, I  
       was…)
Tricycle/Single motorcycle to your station of choice
       P20 (single) / P20 per seat 
       for tricycle
Total (one way)
       P2940 – P4040

Going back? I don’t know. Just pray. I said going to Boracay, not going to Manila.

My friends took a special shuttle from Kalibo to Caticlan. Like I told you, if you are travelling alone (frugally) you cannot rent one whole shuttle to yourself, unless you’re uber rich, at which case, you’d have bought an earlier flight straight to Caticlan instead of Kalibo.

CebuPac also offers flights to Caticlan, just look for them in their website.

           Boracay: Then and Now

Friday, March 25, 2011

Boracay: Then and Now

Boracay frisbee
Unless you just want to relax, don’t go to Boracay. It is not a place to do that. There are plenty of other beaches in the Philippines for that. I am not ruling it out for lazy sunbathing though. If you are for the appreciation of nature, Boracay is a perfect contender. But you shouldn’t miss out on the things you can do there as well.


I went there alone. Just like most of my trips, I took a flight alone. To review Boracay, I had to jump in a group of friends who already planned their four-day vacation there.

For a couple of summers, my parents had made it a habit to bring me to Kalibo every vacation. It dates back to the time my father had a huge blasting project for the road construction from Kalibo to Caticlan. It was also my first time to hear the blasts from the rocky mountains. Our house was not in Boracay itself. It was in Habana, a couple of hours away from Caticlan, the port for the boats going to Boracay. My first encounter of Boracay is mired by immaturity. All I remember of it is that one picture of two foreign girls walking near the beach topless. My dad posed and my mom took a picture of it. It hangs in one of my parents’ collection of photos of old projects for the company. Until now, I wonder why Boracay had its reputation for such liberty. Did they think (looking back) that we (Filipinos) were of such innocence that we do not formulate evil thoughts in our heads upon seeing their, well, exposed upper bodies.

Then and now
I had a couple of other trips to the island with the latest one in 2000. A decade ago. Imagine my shock to know so much has changed. From the early 90s Boracay I knew, to the one I met in 2000 to this one. I will try with my utmost vigor, to present a picture of how Boracay has transformed.

One can easily sink into relaxation mode anytime
90s: Simple Getaway
My dad told me yesterday that he didn’t want to go back. He had grown so sick of it already. He had a house there. I can only imagine him waking up every morning seeing the pristine colors of the beach. I get him. Must be truly sickening.

There were not many resorts during my dad's reign. You can go there, set up a picnic mat and have a family lunch by the beach. The tourists were nonchalant of Filipinos’ existence. Like I mentioned earlier, anyone can freely walk topless anytime. People didn’t bother. No one took videos (except us who did take a photo). No one cared. It was like a famous secluded beach. You can enjoy its sanctity. It was basic, pure and simple. It was a perfect getaway, the word, being true to its purest sense.

Early 2000: Booming Tourism
We went back in a more luxurious stance, so the experience was tainted with money. We checked in an expensive hotel by Station 3. The hotel, though expensive, was a minute walk from the beach itself. It was mid April, the height of the summer. We booked late. Every hotel one could see in Yellow Pages was fully booked. We tried to get in another 5-star hotel (one of the only few then) that stood right in front of the beach, but the rooms were ugly. And we needed three. They only had one free for the remaining days.
Since I was with older people (family, friends, our beloved Jeo, etc) we only did island hopping (P1000 per boat) and sailing (P1000 per hour I think). Jeo knew how to sail so he took over a few minutes after we left the shore.

There were more resorts by then compared to the early years. But you could still see some vacant lots. Shangri-La wasn’t constructed yet. The tourist number has increased though. But not too significant to the point of choking anyone. We enjoyed hanging out in this simple shakes bar called Jonah’s Fruitshake. It was near Coco Mangas. It was made of nipa. It had an enclosed space where anyone can enjoy their drinks without being burned by the sun’s rays. One also had the choice to put a mat or towel outside, where you can relax and they can serve your drinks there. To the right was the shady part, with a coconut tree providing its shadow to anyone who would gladly relax underneath it. To the right were some wooden reclining chairs. We liked it there. We would sit there from lunch ‘til late afternoon.

Boats could also be seen everywhere. They were parked in every possible space. The view would even be blocked by the annoying boats. My friend and I used to hide behind these boats whenever we would change into our bathing suits before we ran to the water.

The station names (Stations 1, 2 & 3) originated from the fact that the pump boats would arrive at three different spots. Arriving at any station, the porters will either carry your things or carry you if you don’t like to be wet at an early part of your arrival.

There was a place for yachts. Jeo parked his yacht there one time, when he sailed to Boracay (not with us). It was near a restaurant that I forget the name.

Boracay also had a booming food industry. There was this really cool Indian restaurant that we particularly enjoyed. It was genuine. I don’t know what I mean by that. We had to sit on big sandy pillows. It was my first exposure to the pita bread. The ceiling had colorful Indian sarongs that served as decoration. It was beautiful, the very reason why I started dreaming of going to India someday.

Boracay Shirt

2011: Commercialization
I’ve heard of rumors. "Boracay is different. Boracay’s not the one you knew. Boracay’s not the same." I had to find out myself. Boracay is Boracay.

I suddenly felt the longevity of the trip from Kalibo to Caticlan. I realized that it was faaaar. I never noticed before. Now, since I am paying for my own fare, I felt that it was expensive. The trip took 1 hour 45 minutes. I slept through most of it, except during the times when I would wake up to see the highway my dad made.
Arriving at the island, I was greeted by only one boat station. That was my first shock. I asked someone if I was to alight there, the kuya said yes. “Are there no other stations?” The answer was no.

I took a single motorcycle to D*Mall. I arrived there 5 minutes later. Never taking off my sunglasses, I walked into what appeared to me a different Boracay. There were shops everywhere. I never really entered the mall proper, but the D*Mall Plaza was already a feat to the eyes. Groups huddled together. I was alone. I immediately looked for the burger chain Ch texted me to meet them in.

The shades provided protection. Not from the sun, but from anyone seeing me peeking at them. Everything felt otherworldly. The people were not Filipinos anymore. There were Caucasians, lots and lots of Asians and Middle Eastern people, and other Latinos and Latinas. The plaza reminded me of a scene in a movie, a Latin American movie. I just don’t know what.

I arrived at the beach, because I was lost. Another shock came. The beach had no boats! Everyone was free to walk around a spacious shore line. The sun was setting already. Benches were set out to accommodate sleeping people (not really). People with DSLRs walked around like ants. So many people! So many! Seriously!

I met the group somewhere completely different from the burger house Ch told me. After meeting, saying hellos and expressing surprises, we went to the beach and I immediately shifted to the photographer mode. They begged me to change and we went to the hotel so I could put my things in our room. The hotel was another surprise. Before, I never noticed “cheaper” hotels near the beach. Our previous hotel was around a minute walk from the beach. Ours now was near the beach! And it was cheap! It was perpendicular to the beach and was fronting another hotel. There were no vacant lots anymore, and the place was filled with so many shops offering anything from scuba equipment to boiled corn.

There was an increase in restaurants and bars. They are everywhere. There were sari-sari stores as well.
On my first (and last night), Ch and I walked along the beach. I wanted to reach Station 1 and she acquiesced. Since every possible space was filled with hotels and resorts, if not stores and souvenir shops, we had to cross the waters to reach it, but it was low tide already so we didn’t get wet.

The new Jonah's
Seeing my favorite Jonah’s almost made me cry. I gasped at its concrete façade and increased space. It was elevated and had a fast food feel. It was well-lit and the wooden chairs were replaced with modern ones. It was night already so I don’t know if one could still set up a mat outside to sunbathe and drink a shake. I suppose yes, but it was so modern, I didn’t know what to feel.

Coco Mangas was different as well. It appeared smaller. Now I know I am unreliable with sizes. But it has changed. I just can’t describe how.

Before leaving for Boracay, I read an article about the dying traditions of sandcastles in Boracay. I felt bad, but had to know it myself. That night, I never saw one. Normally, they appear on weekends before, but there was none when I got there. The closest I saw was this sand art that looked unmanned and I took a picture of. Then a boy jumped out of nowhere and asked me for a donation. He appeared jolly, and I teased him.

The boy and his art: a few of the dying sand art in Boracay
“Do I have to donate?”

“Yes, ma’am, because you took a picture,” as if it donating was compulsory.

Ch gave him coins. I had nothing. We sat in the beach and chatted.

The next day, we did some water activities. I don’t know before, for I really did not notice, but there are more activities now. The group rode the Flying Fish ride before I got there. I’ve never heard of that before. Plenty other activities are new. I’ve never heard of a glass boat before. There’s also this head scuba diving thing. So many things to do. Made me want to stay longer, but of course, I had other priorities. One day was enough.

Flying fish ride (photo from Cra's FB)
I am not in the position to react negatively (or positively) to the changes I witnessed all these years. Boracay is a beautiful place, regardless if it be commercialized (which is good for the economy) or secluded, it has a lot to offer to different people who go there for different reasons. Pretty much like the currents surging in from an incoming tide, all I can do is be swept by it. It is a beautiful surge. Fighting it would be a waste of energy.


Part 1: Manila to Kalibo Flight
Part 2: Kalibo to Caticlan
Part 3: In and around Boracay
Part 4: Boracay to Manila
Extras: Jet Ski Experience
           Cheap Transportation to Boracay

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Blogging about this revisited paradise soon

Photo taken by Ch Gesalta.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

On Scripture Studies

 39 “You search the Scriptures because you think they give you eternal life. But the Scriptures point to me! 40 Yet you refuse to come to me to receive this life.” - John 5:39-40 (NLT)

Thursday, February 24, 2011

MRT Blues 2

In riding the MRT I choose to stand. Even in an empty coach, I would still choose my favorite spot – that corner nearest the last door from the driver in the women’s coach. There, I’m completely safe from being crushed to death every time MRT gets flooded by passengers. Standing there, I could read, look the salivating guys from the men’s coach, pretend I can’t move when being pushed over by space-hungry ladies who actually often forget they wear their companies on their ID laces or blouses. I will never forget an embarrassing situation when I almost kissed a woman in her mid thirties when the driver totally forgot he was driving a mass transpo and made an abrupt break to the end of a station. My face was already too close to the woman’s face in the first place because I could not find any more space to put my head in. Her face was the next possible option.

I never wanted to me an actual sample of Katy Perry (oh, Katy, what a shame you are to the Christian world) and like a possible kiss with a women I barely know. But that intimate moment made me think. If I were a terrorist… Never mind. Erase that.

The reasons I like that spot are simple.       
   
1.      Unobstructed view of the metro. Manila is beautiful city; with its sky always almost dim that you’d wonder if it’s always gonna rain. But it’s not the clouds that make it dark, as a city denizen, you should know by now that we are people of pollution and we simply cannot live without carbon emissions and smoke belching.

2.      I can go out the door anytime there need be and there are not much ladies to push. I just need to squeeze my fattening self to the side part and free myself from possible stampede.

3.      I can put my baunan bag at that-space-at-the-end-of-the-coach and actually act as if it contains explosive. I do this. I would put my bad there, text someone, look around, look at the bag, move away a little, and occasionally inspect it to add more suspicion. I particularly  like this when the men’s coach beside ours are the ones without the driver’s compartment, and the men – squeezed as they are leaving them no room to move their heads– have no choice but to see all my actions. One of these days, I may actually bring an extra bag and leave it there. For fun.

4.      I can read. Sitting down makes me look/notice at the crotch area of women at my book’s edge. Reading while standing in that corner makes me face the wall and have the world to myself again. Plus, I actually have an audience on the other side and I can act as an ambassador of reading to a typical MRT commuter.

5.      Sleep. I actually almost fell over the steel railing because of the lack of it.

Friday, January 28, 2011

TAHO: ON A METAPHORICAL SENSE (?)


I took the other route to the office once again, saying an indirect goodbye to the almost established relationship I had as frequent customer to Kuya Taho. My loyalty does not remain though. As I have been buying from another Kuya the past days. Something that reflects life in a deeper meaning. Labo.

Image source.

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