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 places. Show all posts
Showing posts with label places. Show all posts

Friday, April 1, 2011

Boracay to Manila (Part 4 of 4)


Last shot before walking away

Morning: Prayer, “jogging”, lots and lots of photos
I started the day right. Woke up at 4:30 to pray. Somehow, the effect of the wind blowing against my face (I was asked to pray at the veranda for noise elimination reasons) made me feel closer to God (of course, it’s an exaggeration), but the fact that I was enjoying my nth hour in Boracay made me fill 10 minutes of my prayer with thanksgiving.

Ch and I wanted to jog early. I told her I’d wake her up at 6. I finished prayer a little before that, went back to my side of the bed and slept. We woke up at around 7. We did not jog.

No decent breakfast for us.

“We should eat brunch. It’s cost-effective,” I suggested, mentally accounting the remaining money I had in my wallet.

We took early morning photos and enjoyed it until the rest of the gang caught up with us. We made a dash back to the hotel and took a swim. GnA and Pau borrowed a bench somewhere so we didn’t have to rent one.

I couldn’t leave Boracay without any activity. I had to at least try something. I wanted to try them thrilling ones, where I could fly, be flung above air or be thrown off deep waters.

Apparently, the group had the same thought in mind. Their ideal Nki activity: sailing.
Ch shopping


I expressed my appreciation for it, but had inner reluctance. If you have been reading my Boracay series, you would know I did sailing before and being being Jeo’s daughter, I did quite some sailing. But being with friends would be different. Plus it would cost me P120. I would feel its importance in my life.

We sailed for an hour. Ch, GnA and I jumped into the water. The waves were becoming more and more enormous, so we decided to climb up the boat. By then, I was tired.
Andok's!

The group broke into smaller groups. We took a hearty meal in Andok’s, which offered cheap but decent meals. Edl and the rest ate somewhere else. The couple, Rlf and Mnq went with Ch and I. After that, another decision to split was reached. Some wanted to get a massage, some wanted to walk around (I think), and we wanted to swim some more. Mnq, Ch and I took the plunge and swam for around 30 minutes when GnA was making hand signals to us from the shore.

He was dying to ride the Jet Ski (not his first time) ever since he got there, but it was too expensive and he had no one to split it with.

“If, really, I have enough budget for that, I would go with you,” I apologetically shouted back from where we were swimming.

 Apparently, he had planned everything and negotiating with me and Ch, we went with him. The entire Jet Ski thing is written here.

2:30 pm and we were inching towards our final moments in Boracay. Ch and I went together to shop pasalubong. I don’t mind buying people souvenirs of the place they didn’t go to, but I tried withdrawing from my bank and couldn’t get any money out. So I had to choose carefully the people to give anything to. I only chose five, myself included.

Ch and Mrv on our way home
I need moneeeeeey
Final moments: Wrong ticket info, flying shuttle, back in Manila alone
Edl was strictly adhering to the schedule. Being an FA herself, she knew how to estimate time. I obviously don’t have that. She insisted we leave at 3 pm to get to Kalibo Airport on time. I declared myself free from that hassle since I was flying back alone, approx. 45 minutes later than them.

God knocked me in the head and instructed me to check my ticket again.

They were all scheduled to leave 7:00. I knew my flight was at 7:35.

Wrong. I checked the ticket – thank God I did – and saw the time to be 18:35.

“Mrv, 18 minus 12?”

“16?”

I shivered. Suddenly, it was SG all over again. I whispered my time to be earlier than expected.

“You said you’ll leave later than us!”

“I know, I know. I thought as well.”

Getting my Bible to pray
I prayed to God. Spoke in tongues as discreet as possible. It was 3 pm and time for my afternoon prayer. I prayed hard. I was setting the right atmosphere even while we were in the tricycle.

I only exposed it when they overheard me talking to the shuttle driver to let the van fly as high as he could because my flight was at 6:30. Pau didn’t like it, but we had no choice.

Montenegro boat
I was last to check in. I got in the boarding area ahead of everyone and settled my emotions down. I was confident I was going to make it anyway, but I vowed to myself never to miss details of my flights ever again.

I commuted home. I was broke already, and had no budget for a taxi ride. I texted Ch I arrived in Manila, told my folks I was coming home, and took a longed for sleep on my ever beloved bed.

We flooded the news feed in FB the next day.



           Boracay: Then and Now

Thursday, March 31, 2011

KALIBO: Sleeping in a shuttle (Part 2 of 4)

KALIBO: Memories, shuttles and strangers
I arrived in Kalibo around 2:40 pm. I wrote the details down and even if this serves at posterity et journal, I will keep those notes to myself.

I rode the tricycle to the jeepney terminal to Caticlan. After haggling about the fare, I managed to get one who lowered the fare down to P20 less. He suggested I take the shuttle instead of the jeepney. I felt he was lying, but I was in such a hurry I didn’t mind. The shuttle cost P20 more, but faster. Time was my only treasure. Arriving two days later than my friends, I could not afford to lose more time for this trip.

I was third to fill the van. They needed 11 or 12, so I knew I was to wait a bit longer. So much for that P20. A guy sat at the far corner of our row. He looked decent and posed no threat.

“Kuya, anong oras na?” (“Big brother, what time is it?”)

He must be deaf. He didn’t reply. He just felt his puruntong and said a curse word in English before muttering to himself that he left his cellphone. He alighted the van and took a tricycle. I think he went back home. Good for him I asked for the time. Bad for us, we had to wait for another passenger.

10 minutes passed and the same kuya came back. He sat at his side of our row again and smiled. “You were asking for the time? It’s 2:45 (not the exact time I forget kasi).” I said thanks.

The van was slowly filled and he had to move beside me. My bag was taking up space so he put half of it on his lap. Then it was time for me to pray. He didn’t mind. We chatted for a while, with me slightly letting off the fact that I had been visiting Kalibo and Boracay before. I slept during most of the trip. I only woke up whenever I felt the vibrations of my cellphones to receive Ch’s texts or my mom’s calls. I would also wake up whenever we would pass by areas where my dad blasted the rocky mountainsides.

First sight of water
With the first sight of water around 4:32 pm, vacation mode kicked in. I was giddy already. I never slept again. Kuya was in his deep slumber and a few minutes more, we were in the Caticlan port.

The girls I saw during my check-in back in Manila were also there. I wondered if they took a shuttle somewhere else. I looked for traces of the Britons. Zero. The girls were lining up for the ticket. Kuya was gone. The lady guard politely told me to buy my tickets (yes, tickets) when I tried entering the post without one. I had to buy at windows 1, 2 and 3. Yes, windows 1, 2 and 3. I saw kuya again. He was queuing on window 1. I asked him where the windows were. He made a gesture that he was lining up to it. I cannot write here the favor I received, but I really thanked kuya because I only paid a small amount for the boat ride. More than half actually. He, apparently, was going to Boracay as well. I followed him to the pump boat. Crossing the small makeshift bridge to the boat, I handed him my luggage. “Parang close na tayo ah,” (“You act as if we’ve known each other for ages!”) he commented but he had no choice but to take my bag. I sat in the second row and kuya went to the back row. I think he got mad at me. I didn’t care. I was getting closer to Boracay.
From Cra's FB

Boracay: Flying Fish, Slammer’s Burger and sand
Earlier, Ch texted me that they’d do the Flying Fish ride. I said I was expected to arrive around 5:30 anyway so they could go ahead. I didn’t know what that was. If I did, I would have begged them to wait for me.

Everyone alighted at Station 1. There was only one station now, unlike before. I waited for everyone to go down before seeing kuya approaching me to get my bag (up to this moment, I still didn’t know his name). “Let’s go.” He wasn’t mad at me after all.

I was supposed to go to Station 2, D*Mall, where everyone was already waiting for me. Kuya and I walked towards the gate of the port.

“Aren’t we supposed to take a tricycle?” Kuya was going to this Holiday Hotel, a few minutes away from D*Mall.

“Yes, but I prefer that.” He motioned for one of the single motorcycles to come.

OK. I know what you’re thinking. Why should I ride that when I could get a tricycle? Well, a tricycle has to have 5 people in it before it can go. If you’re in a hurry, you will have to pay for every vacant seat. That’s P20/seat. Times 5. You do the math. I didn’t have P20 for inexistent passengers.

There was no helmet, so I hesitated, but for the sheer feeling of travelling frugally, I managed to conquer any fear and hopped on.

“Kuya, this is illegal in Manila!” I screamed at the driver as he sped through the road.

“Well, you’re not in Manila!”

My kuya friend got down to his hotel, and I almost got hit by an incoming bike. I continued my journey to D*Mall. I didn’t catch kuya’s name. I am so good at connecting to people. I don’t even know his face. He was wearing shades most of the trip. I think I can recognize him if he wears the same shirt. But I forget that as well.

I called Ch to say I was in Boracay already. Basically, the conversation went on like this:

“I’m here. Where are you. Can you find me a place where I can watch the game?”

“(Gibberish). We’re here at (gibberish).”

“Where?”

“Here at (gibberish).”

“Where?”

“Slammer’s Burger.”

“Slammer’s Burger. OK.”

“No! Slammer’s Burger.”

“OK. Slammer’s Burger.”

“No! Slam-mer’s Burg-er.”

“OK! Slammer’s Burger!”

“No!”

I hung up. “Text me,” I texted her. It was driving me nuts.

I asked one guard, who was very friendly, where Slammer’s Burger was. He pointed me to a direction. No Slammer’s Burger. I asked another one. Pointed to another direction. I went there. No Slammer’s Burger. I approached a couple of tinderas (vendors).

“Jammer’s Burger?” they blindly asked me back.

“No, Slammer’s?”

“No Slammer’s. Only Jammers.”

It was fronting the beach. I got so tired that I threatened no one I’d just sit down there, put down my things and camp. No more hotels with friends. I was getting annoyed.

“We’re here at Bite Club,” Ch texted. I repeated the process, got lost a bit somewhere before GnA accidentally saw me and muttered a small curse.

I dropped my bag and ran to them. Seeing them after all the travelling alone was very much welcomed. I wanted to embrace them all!

“Hi, Ike! Can you fix this camera?”

They obviously missed me.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Jet Ski: More than a ride

It was not my idea, but it was my long-time dream. I have been salivating over it ever since I set foot on the island. Never tried it. Always wanted it. Thanks to GnA's passion, I only paid a small percentage of its already discounted price.

We were supposed to check out at 12, but the other room extended to 3 pm so we had three more hours to do anything. The idea was that GnA, Ch and I were to share the allotted time, with GnA taking 10 minutes alone. He paid for 3/4 of everything anyway so it was logical and fair.

Ch, Cra, Nki, GnA
We paid at their office the full amount. It was a few yards from our hotel. GnA and I went upstairs and chatted with one kuya there, while waiting for the next guide to pick us up. I asked kuya about kite surfing. I told him I want to learn and try it. Then GnA and I thought about surfing. I told him about Rsh' adventure in Ilocos but the waves are only good ‘til May. Then the conversation shifted back to kite surfing. All of our questions were answered by the casual kuya. He was good natured and was kind enough to tell us about the instructor who died last year because of an accident, which made GnA and I shrug and thought twice about trying any other water sport. Then we asked about the safety of the Jet Ski thing. OK, corny. It was just a Jet Ski, but we had to at least ask. We were assured by kuya. GnA has ridden a Jet Ski before and asked if the controls were the same. No they're not anymore.

"The former controls make things worse. In a case of a crash, the driver would accelerate instead of stopping right before the moment of impact. So they changed it." Good. At least we don't have to undergo their old ways. It’s easier to break before colliding against another Jet Ski. Perfect.

Speed boat to the floating dock
We had to take a multi-cab to Station 1 to meet-up with the speed boat that would take us to the Jet Ski area. Cra and Rx went with us to take pictures from the floating dock. All five of us sped through the clear waters of Boracay at the height of the sun's heat. We got there in less than 2 minutes and alighted in the floating bamboo dock where we were greeted by the kuyas operating the whole thing. We sat on one of the benches and watched as the rest of the "drivers" played on top of the water. I saw one kuya holding a Sony HD camera. "Huwaw, sosyal!" I muttered to Ch as she noticed the same thing as well. He was filming for a couple (a foreign guy with a Filipina-looking girl holding on to him). We got our floaters and one kuya particularly enjoyed strapping them on to me. I slightly pushed him away and did it myself.


Still hesitating at first
That kuya invited us to test our floaters by jumping to the water. I first hesitated, fearing I might get too tired to climb up again since the crazy waves during the sail took most of my energy. I could barely walk. I just wanted to sit. But I still jumped in, following GnA who was already floating away all the stresses of the remaining few hours in the island.

The first to ride were GnA and I. Ch was still conditioning herself, in a continuous trance of hesitation to ride it. I think I just pressured her into coming with me. I felt bad, but I knew she'd enjoy. I was ecstatic. One kuya rode with us first. He taught us how to operate it, telling us the dangers and the areas that we were allowed to drive in. GnA was sitting directly behind him and understood everything. I couldn't hear much because of the waves and my distance from kuya. I think he said something about falling off the water or crashing on to other drivers. Something about it being our fault if we die or something. I was hesitant to hold on to GnA at first, but my grip kind of increased. I muttered a small prayer and recalled Peter on top of the water. If he could do it without floaters, why couldn’t I. So I started to let loose. A bit.

Kuya left after a semi-circle trip within the allowed area. Clockwise. We were not allowed to do otherwise. GnA, the moment kuya stepped off and felt I was secured enough behind him, accelerated crazily within seconds. I screamed at him. He couldn't hear me, of course. I held on to him harder. He might have forgotten I was there. A big wave hit us. I hit him hard on his nape.

Enjoying it with GnA
"Are you doing that on purpose?"

"Just hold on!"

He was insane. Then I remembered I was supposed to not fear anything. I mean, I paid for it. The thrill of it was the main ingredient of the ride.

"This is buoyant anyway right?"

"Yes."
Floating until the next free Jet Ski was back

I thought hard at this.

"O well. Go on. Do as you wish."

He was slow on some parts but each time we passed by the floating dock, he would increase speed to "show them." I held on as he increased speed. Then as he was enjoying it, and I was relaxing a bit, he stopped and told me it was time to switch.

"Now?"

"Yes."

He stood up and sat behind me. I was kind of nervous at first. He taught me the accelerator and the break. The only two things I needed to know. I rest could be forgotten.
Kuya teaching us first

"OK. Here we go."

I think I spent 30 seconds trying to feel the thing until I felt what GnA felt when he was trying to fly me off earlier. I increased speed. Increased all the more and felt the liberating feeling of driving without speed limits and other vehicles on your way. The only thing that bothered us was the size of the waves. It was mid noon already and the large waves that hit us during our morning sail were nothing compared to the new ones coming in.

We almost overturned as I never took into account the waves when accelerating.

"Nice! Nice!" I heard GnA calling from behind me and it was a license to go faster. I finished a couple of rounds and thought of Ch.

"Don't be too fast on her please."

"Yes."

GnA showing off (haha)
Parking the Jet Ski was harder than I thought. I couldn't do it to the point that the kuyas were frantic at getting at us, and I slightly crashed into the speed boat nearby. A small whole was bored into our Jet SKi and everyone was furious. I got off and calmly sat down.

Ch replaced me and GnA repeated the process. I was scared for her first, but from what I saw, GnA was true to his word. They weren't challenging the waves that much.

My turn to try to kick GnA off the Jet Ski
When it was time for Ch to drive, we saw them switch. Then the kuyas with us became agitated and two of them jumped into the nearby speed boat. One Jet Ski seemed to have overturned. If we didn't see Ch and GnA switching places, we would have thought it was them. It was a Korean couple, I think. I wasn't thinking anymore. I lay down the bamboo floor and just relaxed. I knew Ch and GnA were safe.

After a couple of rounds, GnA brought Ch to the dock and had the vehicle on his own. He looked like he was enjoying and the kuyas signaled him that the time was up. We couldn't believe it. It felt too soon to be 30 minutes. But GnA was parking the Jet Ski already so I suppose he accepted the fact it was over.
Ch and I jumped to the water again. The water felt nice because it was cool to the body.

Notice the hole at the bottom left (hihi)
One kuya kept on bothering me. He said he saw me before. Clueless, I said maybe. I shouldn't have said that. I thought he really knew me since I lived in Kalibo for a couple of summers and have been to Boracay a couple of times. I asked him where he lived. He said in the island itself. False assumption. He wasn't from Kalibo. I shut up. He jumped into the speed boat with us and bothered me along the way. GnA teased me. I wanted to punch him in the face (kuya not GnA).

GnA teaching Ch
What a way to end the trip. I asked GnA and Ch if we could buy a Jet Ski. We could use it in Manila Bay. And, as expected, no one took me seriously.

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.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Harlequin Haunted Hall 2: More than Horrors and Ghouls and All That



We were the first to go in. Basically, because we knew we had it in us. Leaving my ability not to fear anything, I actually psyched myself to enjoy while being critical of the whole experience at the same time. And I was successful at it. So this review is bereft of me being a hater of dark forces and how they hate me as well. I went in there for the art side, pretty much how we still watch horror movies.

OK. The Harlequin Haunted Hall 2 organizers had the protection of guests in mind. We were asked to leave our bags with the FOH people and ushers. We did. They thought we might end up too scared that we'd leave our bags in there somewhere. Where it's dark, where there were ghosts,where there might be hands that will grab you anytime, where it's scary.

Then they saw my necklace. "Take that off as well." Then my watch, then my ring, then my pearl earrings. "Guys, I get that you need funds and all, but this far?" They smiled and took my stuff from me. (OK, I wasn't wearing a ring or any earring. I just wanted to feel the feeling of having one.)

The group of the brave: Nki, Stn, Wwo, Ald and Mtn. Minimum of 4 max of 6, to which Ald hopelessly remarked, "Oh, no. 5 na kami!  Lilipat tuloy ako!" (Oh no. We're 5 already! I will have to transfer!)

Wwo was the leader. Followed by me and Stn and Ald and Mtn. The arrangement at the back of the line kept on changing because of the running we had to do every so often, but Wwo clearly remained the alpha of the group. I don't know how many hands I've held on to during those gruelling 5 minutes of our lives, but I definitely wanted to convince myself those were from a human being, alive and warm.

In one of the sections (which I cannot say explicitly to avoid spoilers), Wwo, our dear leader with the most courageous blood within him, jerked backward, hit my left eye with his right shoulder, and poof went my left contact lens. I managed to grab on to it, in pure disbelief that it was possible, and wanted to salvage it but it was too dark, the passage was too narrow, the position we had was too awkward and I knew it was the end of my clear left vision for the next remaining minutes.

I was thinking of my lens too much that I failed to enjoy the rest of the sections, but it added to the effect.


Finally, the exit that felt like it was no exit at all, because Mutien Marie is one big haunted building you don't necessarily need a horror booth to make it scary. We went down, I swear my curls went straight for a while, and I whined about my lost lens. The organizers took pity, and when I thought they were looking for it when incoming guests were stopped in queue, I found out it was because we destroyed one of their set. Hehe. Sorry about that.

I asked the organizers if I could go in. JnP went inside with me while I threatened the ghouls that I was there minutes ago, was only there to get my vision back and that in no manner should they, in any chance, try to frighten me. After that I said a mild hello  to JnP, who I haven't seen in ages, as I scampered through dark alleys and whoknowswhat shady areas. "This is how we say hello after a long time huh?" "Yeah." "I missed you.""Me too."

I got to go to the shortcuts. Never knew how complex-looking they made the entire second floor. I managed to find my lens, crumpled, soiled and pathetically disfigured. I went down the entrance and slightly raised the lens in a victorious manner. Everyone (well, not all) horrayed in an exasperated way as I have caused a major delay already.
The random brave: Nsh, Krl, Apr, Mrc, Stn, Nki, Eln

We went in again. This time, armed with more bravery than ever, we decided to face our fears again to make sure we see everything there was. Going in the second time made the experience better. They actually improved, like our comments on the comment board were radioed to the guys and they applied it immediately. We were scared to our guts and went out satisfied.

The HTG Haunted Hall/Horror Booth started years ago as a tradition, and with more and more people supporting it, it became a legend. Then it died. I don't know how, but it just did. It was pitched to me before while I was still running the Guild, but we never really worked a way to revive it. Thanks to Crl, it found its way back and is now becoming what it once were. Slowly, pretty much like any ghost stories passed on by word of mouth, the Harlequin Haunted Hall 2 is an experience, running through decades of Lasallian history and folklore, worth going back to over and over again.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Hot Air



How will I be able to manage my time on Saturday?

I'm supposed to take photos for the Hot Air Balloon festival in Clark (again??? Seriously, Clark is one of my most detested place right now) but we have a meeting on the same day, 3pm in Pque. I have forgotten the travel time to and fro Clark already. Argh. This doesn't help me at all. I should have a secretary taking down notes for me.

PLAN A
Go there early. Meet up with Ch's family, hopefully for free lunch or whatnot. Leave early and be back by 3 in Pque.

PLAN B
Go there Friday night, which will mean I will have to check in somewhere. Eureka Hotel perhaps? Haha. Blue Something Airport hotel? Haha. And go back a little earlier before lunch.

PLAN C
Don't go. Ditch the idea. Forget the coverage.

PLAN D
Live there.

PLAN E
There's no Plan E.

This is hard. Hot Air stuff.

X X << See, I'm kissing the blog post already. Haha!

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