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| Ready for a full meal |
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| Food stall |
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| Lotus with egg |
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| Vegetables come aplenty |
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| Dragon fruit |
El Nido
El Nido Revisited
El Nido Series
El Nido Tour A: There and Back Again
Saturday, March 08, 2014Ryan Mach
El Nido is love at first sight. After seeing and experiencing
some of its islands, I fell irrevocably in love with it. It's one of
those places that I'd gladly come back time and time again. The fact
that I went there twice within a relatively short interval speaks volume
of how much I love it. You see, I spent my birthday in El Nido in
January of 2013. Three and a half months later, I once again found
myself traversing the long road north of Puerto Princesa aboard an
air-conditioned bus, my heart throbbing with excitement. To put it
romantically, I was back in the arms of love. And oh, I was happy!
The trip was a little different the second time around but
it was sweeter nonetheless especially that I was with friends, who added a new
dimension and layer to the experience. When we planned our Palawan
getaway back in
January, I made it straight and clear to them that I'd be spending 3
whole days in El Nido which means I'd be skipping the Underground River
Tour. They were cool about it, although I sensed some disagreement that
stemmed from the fact that the trip was supposed to be group getaway -
and there I was doing my own thing.
On Day 1, I was practically alone in El Nido.
My friends arrived at 3 in the morning the next day, tired and already
sun-tanned. They complained rather enthusiastically about the awfully
long trip from Puerto Princesa. We'd wake up from time to time, only to find out that we're still on the road,
they told me. Spooked out after hearing a story from fellow
passengers about mishaps on the road, i.e, bus windows getting busted
from stones hurled by unknown perpetrators. "We were asked if we were
carrying illegal mangoes!" one of them blurted out,
eliciting laughter from everyone. I advised them to catch up on
their sleep. Room was rather small for five people but it had a working
A/C. We all conked out and got up at seven in the morning. There was
ample time to take shower and apply sunblock. By eight, we were ready to
head down to the beach for the day's tour but not after taking a
breakfast.
They were keen about spending less while in
El Nido so they only had home-made sandwich for breakfast. I couldn't
even coerce them to eat with me at Art Cafe.
Instead, they watched me eat as they applied
sunblock deliberately. I turned a deaf ear when they made a comment
about my being a spendthrift. It hurt a little but the bacon tasted
great. I argued by telling
them I had a tummy issue and that I needed to eat well. Offered them
some bacon, they refused.
It was already a quarter past 8 when we left Art Cafe
and walked along the narrow pathway leading to the Northern Inn office
where we're gently whisked off to the front beach to wait until the boat
was
ready for boarding.
Island hopping tours in El Nido can sometimes be a
waiting game. Some start at exactly 9AM, others leave a little late.
Like ours. Well, the delay was mainly due to our tour mates who came a few
minutes past nine.
The boat weaseled its way out amidst a
tangle of boats parked closely to one another. A crew of four introduced
themselves, and Dude, our guide started the tour by giving us a little history on El Nido.
featured
Mountain Climbing
Mt. Batulao
Playing Catcher in the Rye in Mt. Batulao
Saturday, March 01, 2014Ryan Mach
"COME ON, MACH, YOU CAN DO IT!" They cheered, all nine of them, my friends and camp mates - my companions on this fun weekend climb. They were encouraging me to go on. I was sitting on a rather comfortable rock jutting conveniently beside the trail (a deus ex machina!), eyeing the summit from afar, silently cursing myself for being a wimp.
"We're almost there!" They shouted back again, their voices sounded shrill amidst the strong gusts of wind that teased, flapped and threatened to uproot me from my spot. I watched Jhyng, Kathy, Kat,
Nitch, Ton and the three guys whose names have now escaped me as they slowly but surely crawled up the aggressively uphill trail. I heard one of them ask if something's wrong with me. I flashed them an OK sign and a fake smile, which I was sure they didn't buy. I knew I was going to be labelled with a thousand different names, all because I was too coward to climb the summit. But what could I do? The peak looked daunting from where I was sitting. I'm afraid of heights. My nerves got the better of me. I was a hopeless case.
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| The peak as seen from my post. |
I remained seated on the same spot for as long as I can remember, barely moving, both hands firmly planted on the rock. I watched my friends grow smaller and smaller until they disappeared from my sight. In between questioning my confidence and doubting my sense of adventure, a fog rolled in and an unwanted rain shower rendered everything in a panoramic haze. Whether the heaven was playing along with my melodramatic reflection or it was simply raining on my parade, I couldn't really tell for sure. Regardless, the raindrops seemed to have washed away the insistent feeling of insecurity albeit momentarily. That, and the stubborn dust caked all over my arms and legs. The trail in Mt. Batulao is a thin tongue of powder and dust which twirls and spins in the slightest wind blow or foot stamp.
Feeling displaced and embarrassed, I amused myself by playing Holden Caufield, a catcher in the rye. The setting couldn't be more perfect. There's a cliff and a precipice. But I was merely a sentinel silently watching trekkers go past my post, bearing witness to young men and women who almost backed out after seeing the intimidating way to the peak (I feel for you, people). None of them did though. Unlike me, they were gutsy enough to reach the top. I was willing to wait there till my friends had all come down but with every stranger passing by (some had bothered to ask what I was doing there), I finally came to a painful realization that made me crawl down: I was a namby-pamby who didn't have business there.
Thinking about it now, I don't really quite understand why I wimped out scaling the summit. It's not even difficult to begin with. At least when you ask the people who have gone to Batulao. Three of our companions were first-time hikers who breezed it. I kept thinking about the hapless girl who lost her life in the same mountain. Although the accident didn't exactly happen at the trail I was dreading, the mere thought that someone did actually fall scared the hell out of me.
That fear could have bottled up mid-way, when we passed by at some seriously narrow pathway with a vertigo-inducing view several feet below. One simple misstep and you could find yourself rolling down. I pathetically groped for every stronghold (mainly grass) I could grab on to, and walked sideways, like a crab. Clutching my chest while breathing heavily, I emerged at a safe intersection with a view that was excitingly uniform: oceanic fields of waving grass that cascaded down a deep ravine.
I glanced at my friends who were trailing behind me. They were sunstruck and chatty. Overhead, against the cerulean sky, an egret (or was it an eagle) soared gracefully, inviting me to drift into a pastoral trance. The failed assault will probably be the first thing that would come to mind when I'd think about Mt. Batulao, but I'd also remember it as a trek that was pleasant in a narcoleptic, summery kind of way.
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| Sagada, Mountain Province |
I'm not going back to Sagada again anytime soon, that's for sure.
Let me set the record straight though that I absolutely love Sagada - it's one of the best places I've been to. It's nothing short of awesome to say the least. It's got a perpetually cold weather, enchanting caves and stunning mountain panoramas. But getting there can be a painful ordeal especially for an acrophobic like me. If your fear of heights is as acute as mine, then there's absolutely no way you can sleep off the grueling road trip when you know you're rolling down and clambering up the highway with deep ravines left and right - not to mention the aggressive bends and twists, unless of course you pop a pill that will send you to oblivion for the entire journey.
Let me set the record straight though that I absolutely love Sagada - it's one of the best places I've been to. It's nothing short of awesome to say the least. It's got a perpetually cold weather, enchanting caves and stunning mountain panoramas. But getting there can be a painful ordeal especially for an acrophobic like me. If your fear of heights is as acute as mine, then there's absolutely no way you can sleep off the grueling road trip when you know you're rolling down and clambering up the highway with deep ravines left and right - not to mention the aggressive bends and twists, unless of course you pop a pill that will send you to oblivion for the entire journey.
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| Bound for Sagada |
That was my plan, sure. An antihistamine should do the trick. Take the pill before getting on the bus. Yeah, I do consider myself a big wuzz when it comes to heights, but I just couldn't afford missing the chance of seeing the breathtaking views along the way. So even if I was palpitating like mad, fidgeting in my seat as if suffering from a bad bout of diarrhea, I still had a swell time marvelling at the incredible scenery we passed by.
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| Photo credit: Lira de la Cruz |
But hey, don't let my personal issues with traveling on high roads ruin your plans of going to Sagada. It's an incredible destination, that I can tell you for sure. And so here's a long overdue travel-guide-cum-travel-experience that will hopefully help you plan your trip to this laid-back town.
Getting There
There are no trips that will directly take you to Sagada but there are three available routes you can choose from if you're coming from Manila - these are bus lines that ply via Bontoc, Banaue or Baguio. Bontoc is a 13-hour ride from Manila give or take (including a 1-hour jeepney ride to Sagada); Banaue is roughly 9 hours (3-4 hours of travel via vans or jeepneys) and Baguio, approximately 6 hours (and another 6 to Sagada). See what I did there? Giving you estimates because transportation system in the Philippines is a bit flaky and inconsistent.
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| Photo credit: Lira de la Cruz |
We opted for the Manila>Baguio>Sagada route because it sounded more comfortable. My travel buddy was not a fan of long bus rides so I reckoned it would be a great idea to do a stop-over in Baguio. Cut the travel time in chunks, it felt relatively much shorter. And the upside? We got to spend a night in the summer capital of the Philippines, stroll along the crowded Session Road and bring home a slice of strawberry shortcake from Vizco. (Although, by taking the Manila>Banaue>Sagada route, you're also in for a visual treat as you'll pass by the magnificent rice terraces that Banaue is known for.)
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| We arrived at the terminal quite early. |
After taking breakfast at some eatery near the terminal (oh they serve great tapa!), we embarked on a 6-hour journey aboard a non-airconditioned bus that zigzagged in a long winding road, passed by at Halsema Highway, the highest highway system in the country, and finally arrived in Sagada at mid-day just in time for lunch. I practically heaved a sigh of relief right after stepping out of the bus.
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| Sagada, finally! |
Here are the things I love about Sagada..
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| 1. Cold weather. The morning fog rolling in the mountain down to the villages is something you don't see every day |
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| 2. People clad in winter clothes. |
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| 3. The good-warmheartedness of the locals |
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| 4. The simplicity of life. |
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| 5. The bashfulness of kids. |
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| 6. Bomod-ok Falls |
I imagined Caleruega to be completely serene and peaceful - a haven of sorts for people looking for quiet. The blogs I read about the place never failed to talk about how subdued and enchanting the whole surrounding is. Although I always take everything with a grain of salt, I was simply sold hook line and sinker with the idea that it could possibly be the best place for soul searching. Besides, I was longing for a place that promises tranquility and Caleruega seemed to be the most feasible option. So I invited a few friends for a day trip in Caleruega and possibly a hot bulalo in Tagaytay on our way back. That weekend, I had a bruised ego to say the least and I was hoping that a place like Caleruega would heal whatever emotional crap I was having.
That's the problem with expectations. They inevitably burst your bubbles. I had this grand assumption that Caleruega, with its supposed lush environment replete with handsome gardens, was a perfect venue for soul searching. Unfortunately for me however, I left the place more disconnected than ever. I couldn't tell exactly why - I just didn't feel any emotional connection with Caleruega.
Even the pictures I took were uninspired. If not for the company of good friends, I would easily consider the experience borderline lame. On the other hand, it would have been a completely different experience altogether if I went there alone.
I was on my way to Central Station, where my friend and I planned to meet, when he asked me what kind of afternoon it was. He was running late, perhaps on the fence what attire would suit best. Looking at the Manila skyline, I responded that it wasn't very gloomy - hot but not scorching (apparently not the best time to wear tyvek suits). The subtext of my response was - it's a beautiful day for a leisurely walk.
We began the walk from SM Manila down to eastern gate of Intramuros where the newly erected Bayleaf Hotel stood haughty, proud and handsome.
"ARE WE THERE YET? AREN'T WE GETTING OFF?" P asked impatiently as the bus gently swerved to the left and made a graceful halt in the middle of a small terminal in Maria Aurora, a town in Aurora province, a few miles north of Manila. A couple of passengers hurriedly got off the bus, carrying their stuff - big boxes and sacks of goods, probably pasalubong for their loved ones who were happily expecting for their arrival.
It's almost five in the afternoon. We had been traveling for ten hours. The aggressive twists and bends on the road from Nueva Vizcaya to Aurora had taken its toll on us. We were already feeling queasy, not to mention tired and hungry.
"Nope, one more town to go before the final homestretch," I told P as if I knew this part of Aurora like the back of my hand. I too was dying to get off the bus. Truth was, I was merely guessing. An educated guess which turned out to be correct because the next town was indeed Baler.
It's almost five in the afternoon. We had been traveling for ten hours. The aggressive twists and bends on the road from Nueva Vizcaya to Aurora had taken its toll on us. We were already feeling queasy, not to mention tired and hungry.
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| Almost there... |
"Nope, one more town to go before the final homestretch," I told P as if I knew this part of Aurora like the back of my hand. I too was dying to get off the bus. Truth was, I was merely guessing. An educated guess which turned out to be correct because the next town was indeed Baler.
1. Into the Wild [2007]
Right after graduating from college, a young man (Emile Hirsch) decides to leave everything behind and heads to Alaska where he lives in isolation.
Source: Google Images
Favorite scene:
2. Motorcycle Diaries [2004]
3. On the Road [2012]
Adapted from the novel of the same name by Jack Kerouac, On the Road is more than just a road trip - ultimately, it's a tale about youthful searching, yearning and striving for experience.
El Nido Revisited
Tour C
El Nido Revisited: Memories of Blue Summer (Tour C)
Friday, July 12, 2013Ryan Mach
With arms and legs flapping against the sand, an act reminiscent of that peculiar scene in Stephen Chbosky's film adaptation of "The Perks of Being a Wallflower" which involved Charlie getting high while helplessly lying on the ground covered with snow, M blurted out a quintessential question I've been meaning to ask - "Have you ever dreamed about doing this everyday? This, spending all day and night on the beach, practically doing nothing but getting paid?"
M wasn't high. A bit delirious maybe, but definitely not drugged. He's a quirky human being, a modern day Alexander Supertramp whose spontaneity can knock the wind out of you. "Let's go to Batangas," he said over a text message on a Sunday morning. "I've no phone. Let's meet at Metro Point in Rotonda."
On a Sunday morning with an overcast sky, our Calatagan adventure began.
Yeah, I dream about doing nothing like lounging on the beach but getting paid. I told M. Please let me do this everyday, I said to a falling star, which streaked across a cloudless sky. The sky over Burot was blanketed by millions of stars - flickering and glimmering - perpetual canvass of wonder. They stayed with us the whole night. Them stars - important reminders of life's simple pleasures, having a quiet time like this, among other things. On a beach like Burot.
Noah and the Whale's "Shape of my Heart" was playing on M's tablet
carelessly placed over a Bruno Mars' hat. The waves gently lapped on
the shore, the sea breeze kissing our skin. A random idea crossed my mind - I'd like to save on music man guitar.
"At some point, all this traveling can get pointless so you tend to stop and focus on more important things - like building a house or something," M said a few hours back when we were busy building a bonfire at some rocky beach, which was still part of Burot but hidden by a small cove. Our campfire was composed poorly of random woods and dry thorny vines we had gathered from a thin thicket of shrubs nearby. I almost had my eyes poked by those thorny, pesky plants.
"Why would you be scared of something that's completely safe?" I challenged a colleague who was shrieking with excitement when we were discussing about possible activities we'd be doing in Boracay. Parasailing was one of the top choices. The conversation happened in January, back when we were planning a summer getaway.
"Ehhhhh, we'll be extremely high up. Can you imagine looking down when you're several feet up? What if the line snaps? Those hungry sharks will be feasting on us!" she retorted, in a ridiculously exaggerated tone that got us all cracking up.
I told her Boracay's too mainstream so we went for El Nido instead. The plan to parasail never pushed through. Not with her anyway. I was able to do parasailing with a different set of friends last April on the last leg of our Romblon Backpacking Trip. Since Boracay lies very close to Tablas we reckoned it'd be a good idea to swing by at the island before going back to Manila.
The sea is heaving. The waves, restless and angry, threaten to upturn our outrigger boat manned by two young Hambil locals. The boat creaks as it bobs over a deep blue bayou that stretches out to the treacherous Tablas Strait in the west. For nearly about an hour, my heart is in my throat.
Sailing to Boracay from Tablas, Romblon when the waves are rough can be a scary ordeal. The sea that separates both islands tends to get tumultuous even during summer months. They say there's a powerful current that flows from Sibuyan in the east all the way to Palawan in the west. Even local fishermen who knew these waters like the back of their hands were not spared from its menace. I remember a friend who grew up in Carabao Island telling me stories about fishing boats being washed away by these tricky waves - the hapless fishermen were found miles away in the south, near the waters of Mindoro and even as far as Palawan.
Sailing to Boracay from Tablas, Romblon when the waves are rough can be a scary ordeal. The sea that separates both islands tends to get tumultuous even during summer months. They say there's a powerful current that flows from Sibuyan in the east all the way to Palawan in the west. Even local fishermen who knew these waters like the back of their hands were not spared from its menace. I remember a friend who grew up in Carabao Island telling me stories about fishing boats being washed away by these tricky waves - the hapless fishermen were found miles away in the south, near the waters of Mindoro and even as far as Palawan.
Traveling to Sibuyan, Romblon requires patience, time and long ferry ride. It's physically taxing but it's worth it.
1. They have an island called Cresta de Gallo that's uninhabited and beautiful, with white-sand beach and rich marine life.
1. They have an island called Cresta de Gallo that's uninhabited and beautiful, with white-sand beach and rich marine life.
When I think about Philippine geography - there are two things that come to mind. One is the unique map of our archipelago, and the other is Yoyoy Villame's Philippine Geography song. The melody is a little funny but its lyrics offer a primer on geography. It's probably too kitschy for your taste so you hardly recognize the song. Well, it goes something like this. From the north Batanes, Aparri, Ilocos Sur, Ilocos Norte, Isabela, Cagayan Valley, Mountain Province, La Union, Baguio City. Pretty straight-forward right? But even the composer got a few things wrong.
Then down to Visayan shore/ The most tamis sugar, coconut and corn/ Iloilo, Capiz, Aklan, Antique
Palawan, Negros, Bacolod City or Dumaguete.
Clearly, Palawan isn't in the Visayas region. Oh you thought all along that it's part of Visayas? Well, time to brush up your knowledge on Philippine geography, don't you think? But don't worry, you are not alone. Yoyoy Villame isn't the only one who's not perfect when it comes to Philippine geography. Unless you have studied and memorized each nook and crany of our country, you're forgiven if you don't have any idea where Romblon is or if you mistake Iloilo for Ilocos.
But you are not forgiven for judging people and stereotyping places to the quick.
Then down to Visayan shore/ The most tamis sugar, coconut and corn/ Iloilo, Capiz, Aklan, Antique
Palawan, Negros, Bacolod City or Dumaguete.
Clearly, Palawan isn't in the Visayas region. Oh you thought all along that it's part of Visayas? Well, time to brush up your knowledge on Philippine geography, don't you think? But don't worry, you are not alone. Yoyoy Villame isn't the only one who's not perfect when it comes to Philippine geography. Unless you have studied and memorized each nook and crany of our country, you're forgiven if you don't have any idea where Romblon is or if you mistake Iloilo for Ilocos.
But you are not forgiven for judging people and stereotyping places to the quick.
