We finally arrived here in Yangon last night for what is surely shaping up to be a whirlwind trip of Myanmar. Right now we’re killing time at The Strand, one of the best hotels in the world apparently, after our most expensive meal on this trip.

Yangon is unexpected. Andy and I were walking on the streets downtown just earlier. I felt like I was thrown into a time machine as I gazed up on gorgeous colonial buildings and old, crumbling edifices (that housed inns, bookshops and law offices!) while the Myanmar people around us chewed betel nut and walked about in their traditional longyis. We bought fruits on the sidewalks and even had our palms read. They’ve been so nice and charming; somehow it felt like home. With a bit of spice and language barrier. In some ways it’s a lot like what those old Lonely Planet guides said.

And yet: last night we were in Shwedagon Paya, a gigantic, golden marvel inlaid with diamonds and other precious stones. We were exploring barefoot, but I was nevertheless able to send the pic below on Twitter. Yes, the place had WiFi. There was even an ATM tucked near one of the entrances.

I’m so excited to see more of this country!

Chasing the sunrise in Bagan, Myanmar

I stayed in Myanmar for only eight days, but I think that’s enough time for me to say with confidence that your copy of Lonely Planet is already outdated. That’s how fast progress appears to have been accelerating in the last two years since the military has relaxed its stronghold on the country and slowly relinquished the reins to a civilian government.

We traveled to Myanmar during their low season (May), when the weather is at its hottest and guesthouses were almost empty. Temperatures in Bagan could reach 40 degrees! Peak season, the one which I think requires more planning, is from December to February.

Our Itinerary

Shwedagon Paya. Even more magnificent at night.

*Sule Paya is very underwhelming once you’ve seen Shwedagon Paya (what Joey calls the Mother of all pagodas), so switch your activities accordingly.

**This was a gamble. Our flight the next day was at 8:35 AM, so if we’d arrived late, we might have missed our flight! Thankfully, our bus delivered. Alternatively, you could opt to fly out of Myanmar from Mandalay, also via AirAsia. This is a new route that I’d missed when I was booking our tickets.

Getting There and Away

We took the plan to get to Myanmar and back, so here’s what I feel comfortable about telling you.

The cheapest way to Myanmar is from Bangkok via AirAsia. AirAsia flies both to Yangon and Mandalay.

The arrival card they ask you to fill in would ask you to declare jewelry you’re bringing in, but you don’t have to declare your engagement ring.

Be careful about bringing jade and other artifacts out of Myanmar as they may get held up at the airport. Just check out the policies once you arrive at the airport.

Money

It’s still true; US dollars in their newest and most immaculate are still required for exchange here.

I’d exchanged my pesos to dollars at BPI (begging the cashier to give me the choicest dollars) but I hadn’t counted on the fact that the tiny purple stamp she put on every bill would not be accepted in banks or money changers in Myanmar. So yes—keep your dollars crisp and clean.

Yangon International Airport is said to have the best rates (887 kyats to a dollar when I went there), but KBZ on Mandalay’s 26th street gave 900 Ks to $1. Also, on Sule Paya Road in Yangon, there’d be locals telling you, “Exchange dollar? I give you 90000 kyats to 100 dollar!” But we’d been cautioned by the owners of our hotel in Yangon that they’d probably shortchange you by giving way less than 90000 kyats, so don’t bother, or at least have them count the money before you.

Most travel blogs and guides I’d read gave rates in dollars, so I’d thought that I didn’t have to exchange more than a hundred dollars. We quickly found out that only the hotels and guesthouses (and restaurants like the one at The Strand) accept dollars these days. Even girls selling you necklaces would refuse to accept dollars—they seem to know the exchange rate very well. This much confidence in their kyats seems to be a sign of an improved economy.

I saw very few ATMs (one was in Shwedagon Pagoda) and I’m not even sure if they were working at the time. Few shops and only the five-star hotels (e.g. The Strand) accept credit cards. Cash still is best.

Transportation

Taxis in Yangon appear to have very arbitrary rates and will probably rip you off at some point—but not by much, especially as compared to taxi drivers in (ahem) nearby countries.

Cars are right-hand drives, but they’re driven on the right side of the road. Compound that with the fact that a lot of streets in both Yangon and Mandalay are not lit. I saw two (thankfully minor) accidents when I was there. And yes, there are a lot of cars in Yangon and Mandalay now; traffic was dreadful in Yangon. You’d notice that a lot of the cars are new—this is because prices have gone down since a couple of years back.

In the travel blogs I’ve read, Myanmar buses are notorious for being mind-numbingly cold and late (and since I’ve been on buses plying the Manila-Bicol and Manila-Ilocos routes, I hadn’t really been worried about this). But we rode the JJ Express bus line from Yangon to Bagan, and I have to say that it was the most pleasant bus trip I’ve had. Ever. I’d never expected that experience to take place in Myanmar, of all places! We liked it so much that we booked the same company for our trip from Mandalay to Yangon.

JJ Express is a Chinese-owned company (like a lot of industries in Myanmar…and also in the Philippines, come to that). JJ stands for Joyous Journeys and its slogan is the no-nonsense “The Way The Truth The Life”.

Yes, really.

Our host at Father Land Hotel suggested it, saying that travelers actually prefer it. Now I can see why. It has 2×1 La-Z-Boy seats, and a cabin crew (they have a cabin crew!) gave us a bottle of water and a blanket before we took off. We had a couple of rest stops, each for ten minutes only, and after the first stop we were pleasantly surprised to receive a box containing pastries for snacks. These were given by a young man, and a pretty stewardess whose perfectly coiffed hair even at 4 AM put our bleary eyes and mussed-up hair to shame.

Moreover, the bus was on time—even ahead of schedule. From Yangon to Bagan, it leaves at 8 PM; from Mandalay to Yangon, two buses leave at 9 and 9:30 PM respectively. On the dot. And they arrive at their destinations on time and even earlier. In sum:

Our bus from Bagan to Mandalay, while a little more uncomfortable (2×2 seats, loud music, air-conditioning that kept me awake most of the night), also arrived way ahead of schedule. Travel from New Bagan to Mandalay took us about five hours. We’re thankful that Peacock Lodge admitted us at 3 AM.

Which brings me to…

Accommodations

I was a little surprised at how expensive “budget” accommodation can be in Myanmar. They don’t always appear to be of good value for your money, either. I’d have to say, though, that I had the most pleasant experiences in those guesthouses because their owners and staff are just so damn nice.

We stayed at Father Land Hotel in Yangon—not the more famous Mother Land Inn, which taxi drivers seemed to know better. Father Land Hotel is a little ways off the city center, east of Kandawgyi Lake and on the other side of Pazun Daung Creek. On its own, it leaves much to be desired—their plastic plants and overhead lamps need some dusting, and at night the halls just seem a little dark and weirdly quiet. But your twin room does have a balcony overlooking the street below (you even have a view of the Shwedagon Paya to the west), pretty strong wifi, hot water and air conditioning, and—best of all—very friendly and helpful hosts who’d tell you stories and give you travel tips. They arranged our bus tickets for us, and even called for taxi every time we needed to leave.

I could recommend two guesthouses in Bagan—Kyaw Hotel Bagan and Mya Thida Hotel. They’re both in New Bagan, which means that they’re a little far from the main temples—but knowing the history of the place, you’d want to stay in New Bagan. Long story short: Old Bagan used to be where the locals’ houses were until they were demolished and the people forcefully relocated to New Bagan to make way for the “luxury” hotels for tourists. Guesthouses in New Bagan are cheaper.

Kyaw Hotel is just a little more upscale; rooms are in bungalows and are air-conditioned, and their bathrooms have hot water and bathtubs. Mya Thida, on the other hand, is more budget-friendly; its bathrooms are spartan but it has working WiFi and clean air-conditioned rooms. We even had a good, illuminating chat with one of the owners about Myanmar and what has changed now that it has “opened up”, and it was one of the best conversations we’ve had in our trip.

We stayed in Peacock Lodge in Mandalay, a good hour’s walk from Mandalay Hill. As mentioned above, they let us in at 3 AM—and yes, they allowed us to go to their spare room and sleep there! We’d booked a standard room, but since it was occupied at that time, they asked us if we wanted to take the vacant deluxe room instead. They went out of their way to arrange the room and add a spare bed (for an additional price) at that hour, and it turned out to be the swankiest room we’ve ever had in our trip. Electricity was fluctuating in the block, though, and I’d suggest you bring a bug spray. WiFi wasn’t installed yet when we were there—which turned out to be a good thing as I finished reading a couple of books in our three-day stay. They also had a taxi service which took us to Amarapura and Sagaing, and eventually to the bus station going to Yangon.

Here’s some information on the hotels we booked.

Father Land Hotel
No. 232-A, Yamonna Street
Waso Quarter, Dawpon Township
Yangon
Email: fatherlandhotel[at]gmail[dot]com
Website: http://www.fatherlandhotel.com

Kyaw Hotel Bagan
Nwe Ni Street
New Bagan
Email: ayelion[at]gmail[dot]com
Website: http://www.kyawhotelbagan.com

Mya Thida Hotel
FF-55, School Street
New Bagan Email: myathidahotel[at]gmail[dot]com
Website: https://www.facebook.com/MyaThidaHotel

Peacock Lodge
5, 61st Street
Mandalay
Email: peacocklodge[at]gmail[dot]com
Website: http://www.peacocklodge.com/

Halfway to the top of Mandalay Hill

Communications

Internet and WiFi is available in computer shops and many guesthouses in Yangon, Bagan and Mandalay. There’s WiFi even in the Shwedagon Pagoda, which was a lovely surprise and caused me to Tweet a quick HI MA I’M HERE NOW photo.

The usual websites I go to (Yahoo Mail, Gmail, Twitter, Facebook, WordPress) weren’t blocked, though I might have encountered a news site that I couldn’t access.

Cellphones appear to be widely used. SIM cards used to cost more than $200, but now they cost 1500 Ks (less than $2)—if you’re a lucky Burmese. SIM cards are sold by lottery as the country is still in the process of putting up more transmission towers to cope with the demands of the rapidly progressing nation.

Fees

As of May 2013, Yangon International Airport does not charge a departure tax for tourists.

Below is a breakdown of entrance and tourist fees in major tourist sites in Yangon, Bagan, and Mandalay:

*Certainly not optional, but there’s a way around it if you’re willing not to enter certain temples…and if you ask around

U Bein Bridge in Amarapura. No fees here.

Current Events

In spite of the horrifying recent unrest between Buddhist and Muslim communities, Yangon, Mandalay and Bagan felt safe. Muslims walked around Yangon in peace, it seemed.

No one is afraid of declaring their love for Aung San Suu Kyi or the National League for Democracy any longer.

Books sold on the sidewalks of Yangon

People

I have to admit that beyond the golden payas and Buddhas and the temple ruins, it’s the people of Myanmar that will always stay with me.

Most of them would be seen in their longyi (the Myanmar version of a malong) whether for formal or casual use. Myanmar men who go to their offices wear it with long-sleeved shirts, and they look quite good in it. The ladies’ longyis are, or course, more richly decorated with prints or embroideries.

The men especially chew betel nut and it’s a bit of a shock at first when you see them suddenly spitting red juice on the sidewalk. Indeed, what looks like drops of blood on the sidewalks are just betel nut juice. (Some time in the past, though, there were probably actual drops of blood there.)

I felt safe all throughout my stay, even when I was walking in downtown Yangon with my camera visibly slung over my shoulder. It was all right to ask around for directions; there’d always be someone around who can speak a little English, and even if not, you can understand them through sign language or even by their smiles.

Young monks lining up for noontime meals at the Mahagandhayon Monastic Institution in Amarapura

When I remember the people we met there, I feel a little choked up because they were some of the nicest people we’ve ever met. It was humbling, in a way, to realize that your government can screw you over many times, but you can choose to remain optimistic and passionate towards your nation.

I loved Myanmar and its people. You should go.

Wat Phra Si Sanphet, inside the Grand Palace grounds of Ayutthaya

The stones here speak to me, and I know their mute language. Also, they seem deeply to feel what I think…. But I am a ruin myself, wandering among ruins.

Heinrich Heine

We spent our third day in Thailand exploring the ruins of Ayutthaya, the old Siamese capital. It used to be one of the biggest cities in East Asia; European chroniclers in the 1600s talked of its power and prosperity. It was strategically located as it sat on an island surrounded by three rivers.

In 1767, Ayutthaya was ransacked and burned down by the Burmese. Survivors went south to Thonburi (now west of Bangkok) to regroup and build a new capital under a new leader. Nowadays, you can see only the most massive vestiges of the grand kingdom that it used to be. A small town has grown around it, and the ruins have been listed as a World Heritage Site by the UNESCO.

I’ll be the first to admit that it’s been difficult to appreciate old temples since I went to Angkor last year. I had to think of Angkor and Ayutthaya as two separate things altogether, both with different histories of power and ruin. Angkor, it seemed, declined slowly, as its people abandoned it for unclear reasons; Ayutthaya, meanwhile, was destroyed almost overnight, though it was already under threat of invaders for years. During its final hours, Ayutthaya was sacked and razed to the ground as its starving inhabitants were slaughtered by the Burmese army. Many temples were destroyed. In this website, you could see that there are no traces of where many certain temples used to stand, according to historical records.

We started our tour via songthaew (a sort of small minivan) at around 11:30am after long train delays. It was a little crazy taking the tour at high noon — I spent too much on beverage that day. And it’s really difficult to imagine that I could still get darker after Palawan and Ilocos, but here I am.

I always try to imagine what a certain ruin must have looked like at the height of its use. (I sometimes close my eyes and touch the stones while doing so, as if my fingers could soak up their history, as if my vision could allow me to see the royal people of old.) In Ayutthaya, though, it was difficult. Even at first glance, the story of its destruction is more palpable than the glories of its heyday. Nonetheless, you can find traces of how grand it used to be.

Wat Thammikarat

Wat Na Phramain, one of the “active” temples in Ayutthaya

The next wat we went to was a little farther off. Wat Phu Khao Thong (“Golden Mountain Temple”) is located outside the city island. There is a monastery nearby, but of course it’s the chedi that amazed us. We climbed the base of the chedi and enjoyed the view and what little breeze was there.

Going to the wat meant that we had to pass a long boulevard. Near the wat stood a monument to King Naresuan, a king who was considered a hero for liberating the Ayutthaya kingdom from the Burmese (more than a century before its eventual, final fall from the Burmese, of course).

The chedi of Wat Phu Khao Thong

Monument to King Naresuan the Great

Going back to Ayutthaya proper, we visited Wat Wora Chet Tha Ram. It used to be a massive crematorium built by the younger brother of King Naresuan. This was an ideal place to stop and cool down because of the wide open space around it.

Wat Wora Chet Tha Ram

Next, we went to Wat Lokayasutha (“Temple of the Reclining Buddha”) where there was this fantastic wat with a weathered reclining Buddha next to it. Since we’d gone to Wat Pho the day before, this was a stark reminder of the old and new Thai kingdoms.

Wat Phra Ram (entrance: 50 baht) was next. This was just outside the Grand Palace, and it used to be a crematorium for a king. Apparently its construction shows Khmer (Cambodian) influence.

And perhaps the most photographed wat in Ayutthaya is Wat Phra Si Sanphet (entrance: 50 baht), located within the Grand Palace grounds. This was the most important temple in Ayutthaya.

There was massive restoration ongoing when I visited. I eavesdropped on a tour guide, who told his group that owing to the 2011 flooding….. of Ayutthaya, the city is undergoing recovery not only of the temples but also of the centuries-old drainage and waterways system built by the founders of the city (see article here).

Temple fatigue was beginning to settle in by the time we finished our three-hour Ayutthaya tour. We went back to the mainland and had snacks — and here I had the best pad thai in my entire stay in Thailand. I’m ashamed to say, though, that I’ve forgotten the name of the restaurant! I just know it’s on a small street which takes you from the ferry terminal to the the main road next to the train station.

The guesthouse across the restaurant allowed us to use their bathroom and shower for 30 baht each, so at least we took the night train to Chiang Mai feeling refreshed.

How to get to Ayutthaya from Bangkok

1. Take a taxi or tuk-tuk to the Hualamphong Train Station. Be persistent and bargain hard. It took us three tries on Tani Road (near Khao San Road) to hire a taxi willing to take us with a meter. One asked us to pay 100 baht — but with a meter, we got there for only 56 baht.
2. Buy a ticket for an express or rapid train for 20 baht. 
3. Get on the express train. It’s a third-class cabin, so there’s no AC, and if the train is slow and there’s no breeze, you’re going to really sweat. So don’t take the seat facing backward.
4. Get off at the Ayutthaya station after about 2 to 2.5 hours, depending on how long the train stalled or stopped in stations.
5. Cross the road, then ask for directions to the small pier. Pay 4 baht and ride the boat. (If you hire a bike near the station, you need to pay an additional 2 baht.) It’s a two-minute ride.
6. Hire a songthaew to get around. We got ours for 200 baht per hour, for three hours. Split between three people, we paid 200 baht each.
7. Take the express train back to Bangkok toward the evening. Or, you could do it the way we did: we headed straight to Chiang Mai, taking the overnight train.

The Ayutthaya train station

I’ve waxed poetic about Chiang Mai, but I haven’t told you yet about my favorite experience there: spending a day feeding, bathing, and mostly hanging around watching a herd of gentle giants at the Elephant Nature Park.

Getting ready for a bath!

Elephant Nature Park is a rescue and rehabilitation center about an hour’s drive north of Chiang Mai. Our guide, Beebee, told us upfront in the van going to ENP Chiang Mai: “We don’t have beautiful elephants here.” The elephants had been used for illegal logging, trekking, or begging in city streets. You’d see the scars of maltreatment on them — bent backs, limping legs, blind eyes, a foot torn off by a land mine — and your heart will break. Each of them has a sad story. Yet ENP found a way to rescue them, usually by buying them, and here they found healing and sanctuary. They roam around freely here (except at night, when they are caged or chained to prevent them from wandering out to other farms) and are dearly loved.

We were picked up at our guesthouse at past 8am. We drove around Chiang Mai to pick up other guests, and then we rode up north to the park. Here we watched a short documentary about elephants in Thailand and how they’ve been exploited by the tourism industry. It also told of this amazing woman, Lek Chailert, who founded the Elephant Nature Foundation. She’s a Time Hero of Asia in 2005 for her efforts in the conservation of Asian elephants. Later in the day, we had a chat with her. I was a little starstruck. She’s small, and yet she’s bounding with energy. (And she knows about the sad-looking elephant in Manila Zoo, I’m ashamed to say.)

I was lucky enough to capture this shot of Lek toward the afternoon. The elephants obviously love her!

We seemed to be headed up the mountains as we neared the park. It was beside other elephant farms and shared a river with them. When we arrived, we were told that the first order of the day was to feed them. Then we were shown the elephants’ meal: lots and lots of bananas, watermelons, squash, cucumbers, and tamarind squished to conceal medicine.

Since we were only getting acquainted with the elephants, we fed them from a platform to avoid any accidents. Joey, Vince, and I fed one female.

I’ll never forget the first time I gave a fruit to an elephant, the first time I touched an elephant trunk — mostly because I realized then and there how strong its trunk is as it put its trunk around my outstretched hand. Call it a gentle giant, but it’s strong! I never fully appreciated how it could carry logs till then.

Eyeing us and our bucket of goodies.

We eventually got the hang of it. We gave the fruits first, giving them the vegetables last (it let go of the first cucumber we gave it; it hates veggies like you as a kid). It even tried to see whether we were keeping more in our basket.

A staff member feeding a male elephant

After feeding, we walked around a bit to meet other elephants. They’re a lot like people, really; they’d have a best friend of sorts, or they’d become motherly toward a younger elephant of no relation. They’d also form groups, like peer groups.

Here’s an elephant next to an elephant grave. Really, they’re like humans.

We also got to meet month-old Dok Mai, a gorgeous female. She was a tad playful to us when we said hello to her. For a while, she kept reaching at our legs with her trunk. I stroked her back, thinking that baby elephant hair would feel like my dog’s fur, but it actually felt bristly, like toothbrush! She played with until her mom, Dok Ngern, waddled nearby and Dok Mai hid between her mom’s legs.

Dok Mai with her mahout

There was a point when Dok Ngern peed, and it was like a gushing forth of a bucketful of water. “Chang beer!” Beebee quipped. (“Chang” means elephant in Thai, and Chang beer is like that brand of beer you’d rather not buy if you had San Miguel on the menu.)  This was followed by her very fibrous poop. But then, Dok Mai followed suit. And then we were told that elephant calves eat their moms’ droppings. Hey, I have an awesome picture of that.

Still so cute.

Owing to that event, we decided to move on.

We learned more about the stories of each elephant we came across. (You can read them here.) We learned about their past and what they’re like now that they’re in ENP. In essence: each is a harrowing story with a happy ending.

Our guide, Beebee, introducing us to the herd. It was quite amazing how she knew all the elephants’ names!

I fed one of these elephants by sticking a banana into her mouth. It was like…sticking a hand into a huge mouth. It was awesome.

For lunch, we had a sumptuous buffet. I piled my plate with noodles and what looked like meat till I was told that they were all vegetarian food. I didn’t even notice. (I was never the type to; I just eat.)

By the way, ENP is also home to more than 200 dogs that were rescued as strays, especially after the flooding in Thailand in 2011. They could be found roaming around with the people, even following them as they go off to see the elephants. They have amazing stories, too. They’re all spayed and neutered, and just like the elephants are given care. (I would’ve brought one home with me, but you know.)

After lunch came my favorite part: bathing the elephants! We didn’t scrub them or ride on their backs so that we could fall together to the water. We mostly just tossed water to them in buckets and stayed on their sides in case they attacked us from the front or pooped at us from the back. But I suppose they warmed up to us eventually and let us wash them even as we were staring right into their eyes.

Joey, Vince and I washing our elephant.

And this is my awesome photo with Mintra (I think?). She got her sloping back from a childhood accident. Also, she got hit by a car at four years old while begging in Bangkok’s streets. She’s better now.

Man and elephant playing. This was rather cute to watch.

Afternoon snacks!

Now I know what their soles look like

Later in the afternoon, we watched a video of how elephants are trained to become tourist attractions. It’s not a pretty video. You could see parts of it here. Elephants are intelligent, independent creatures and would protect its own, so taming it is not easy — and traditionally, phajaan, a form of negative reinforcement, is used. A small cage is used to contain the elephant while “trainers” hit the elephant or poke it with spiked sticks. It is also starved and deprived of sleep. This goes on until it bleeds and its spirit breaks so that it has no other choice but to follow what its master wills it to do. Apparently, if you have given an elephant and its owner money to feed it bananas as it roamed around the city, if you have watched an elephant paint, or if you have ridden on an elephant’s back on a wooden bench, then you have possibly contributed to this cycle of abuse — all in the name of tourism.

There are a few other elephant camps that advocate training using humane methods. ENP uses positive reinforcement, and that’s how Lek and her staff managed to tame even the most broken among the ENP elephants.

There’s an irony I still can’t comprehend up to now, as a non-Thai. Elephants are supposed to be revered creatures; white elephants are sacred and given to kings. And yet these abusive practices are also rooted in tradition. It’s difficult to understand, really.

But I could understand only one thing as I looked at the elephants there at ENP: they’re better here.

I had the most fantastic time here. It’s a must-do trip if you ever decide to go to Chiang Mai.

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Inform yourself before going to an elephant camp in Thailand — or in any other tourist spot you plan on going, for that matter. Be an intelligent traveler! (Admittedly, I’m still in the process of learning how to be one. But this is a start.)

Read about sustainable travel in Thailand here, and here’s an article on why elephant riding should be taken off your bucket list.

You can book a day trip or overnight trip (or even a week-long immersion) at the Elephant Nature Park through their website, or the website of the Elephant Nature Foundation. The price is steep, but haven’t I convinced you yet?

Windmills on the coast of Bangui, Ilocos Norte

It was only some twelve hours after I arrived home from Palawan, and I was already at the domestic terminal of NAIA for my next summer trip. It also meant seeing the same barkada of colleagues/friends only a few hours after we’d parted ways. It felt like a school day, almost.

We were on our way to Ilocos Norte, where we were going to spend some four days sightseeing. We’d been invited by Sir Rolly to stay in Villa Ambrosia, a resort in Bangui right along the Pan-Philippine Highway. Bangui, of course, is home of the famed wind farm. I’d thought we wouldn’t go beyond Ilocos Norte in those four days, but we were all adamant about seeing Vigan —  so somehow it turned out to be a whirlwind tour of the Ilocos provinces.

(Segue: I’d been so amazed by those huge windmills from the moment I saw them in a Wow Philippines ad starring Regine Velasquez, and right then and there I’d always wanted to do the thing she did with the breeze and the white cloth. I’m sure a lot of you have felt that way!)

The day after we arrived, we woke up early to see the Bangui windmills at sunrise. We rode the resort’s van (driven by none other than the owner himself!). We actually got to the coast a little after sunrise, but we were the only sightseers then.

The huge windmills were arranged in a neat row facing the sea. They were so picturesque. I also felt a little disjointed because I was reminded both of Regine Velasquez and Don Quixote.

Obligatory jump shot from the gentlemen

The wind farm in Bangui consists of 20 windmills, each about 70 meters high, with 41-meter-long blades (!).  It provides sustainable energy to Ilocos Norte, making the province less dependent on NPC and non-renewable energy sources.

We decided, then, to head south to the town of Burgos to see a couple more tourist attractions: the Kapurpurawan Rock Formations and the Burgos Lighthouse.

Kapurpurawan Rock Formations

“Kapurpurawan” means white in Ilocano, which is exactly what the rock formations are: chalky white limestone carved by forces of water and wind. Touch them and notice the fine, crystal-like powder on your fingers.

They are situated on rocky grounds which are also picturesque on their own:

My Ilocos travel companions

A sculpture of Lam-Ang battling a crocodile. A very-real tourist strikes a pose.

Next was the age-old Burgos lighthouse on Cape Bojeador, the highest-elevated lighthouse in the Philippines.

Cape Bojeador Lighthouse

It was back to Villa Ambrosia in Bangui for brunch after an eventful morning. There wasn’t time for a shower, though, for we soon got back into the van and headed up to Pagudpud.

We stopped for a while at the Patapat Viaduct, a bridge constructed during the Marcos era. It’s a thing of beauty weaving between mountains and the sea. (For a while I wondered if Ilocos has a thing for putting grand man-made monuments next to its shores.) We spent a fair bit of time taking pictures here while cars and buses drove past us on the highway.

Patapat viaduct

Soon, we were in Pagudpud. We went to Pannzian Beach Resort first — it’s further north of the town proper.

The shore fronting Pannzian Beach. A resort with character. Serene surroundings. Great food.

Now I’d been to Pagudpud, so I knew what to expect: huge waves I really have no power against. Thus we hung out on the shore, getting out legs wet. The boys played volleyball (I had to quit after injuring my thumb) while Sir Rolly read a book and Grace and I took pictures around.

Playing volleyball in a place nestled between sea and mountains

We headed to Maira-ira Beach afterward — the famed white beach of Pagudpud. It stood on a cove so the waves here weren’t as large. There’s a huge hotel on the shore now, complete with Hollywood-esque sign on the mountainside and a zipline, and there were a lot of people already there. It was like a smaller Boracay. I enjoyed the serenity of Pannzian’s beach better, but at least here, we could swim in calm, clean waters.

Agua Grande, on the way south

Maira-Ira Beach

I walked a little ways off the crowd. Just a few minutes’ walk from them and the current quite suddenly got stronger. I sat on the sand, taking pictures, watching as the waves slowly climbed up to my feet, and mostly thinking.

We were back in Bangui before nightfall. We continued our swim in the pool in our resort as we serenaded (?!) the group in turn with the videoke machine. Happily for the residents, we stopped by dinnertime.

After what’s probably the most eventful summer of my life — so eventful I haven’t had the time to blog everything! — I’m back doing work, preparing for the next school year. I’m reading some ancient Greek literature. All this is making me want to travel to Greece.

We begin with mythology, of course, and we’re taking up Oedipus Rex and some epic and lyric poetry as well. Now to teach lyric poems, I go back to the best lyrist/lyricist of the age: Sappho. Yesterday I got myself a copy of If Not, Winter, Anne Carson’s translations of Sappho’s poems — or what’s left of them.

I actually found the fragments so haunting that I had that rare physical, almost visceral reaction to poetry while reading them. I was haunted by what is now gone, what is unsaid, what is un-said — I am left filling in the blanks, or realizing that the white space is akin to words unformed because no words are enough to explain an emotion.

Here is an incomplete poem, Fragment 31. The last line especially haunts me: what was it that Sappho “dared” to do?

Fragment 31 (He seems to me equal to gods that man)
Sappho

He seems to me equal to gods that man
whoever he is who opposite you
sits and listens close
to your sweet speaking

and lovely laughing—oh it
puts the heart in my chest on wings
for when I look at you, even a moment, no speaking
is left in me

no: tongue breaks and thin
fire is racing under skin
and in eyes no sight and drumming
fills ears

and cold sweat holds me and shaking
grips me all, greener than grass
I am and dead—or almost
I seem to me.

But all is to be dared, because even a person of poverty

This is a long-overdue post — two months, overdue, in fact.

We’d long wondered if it was possible to tour the southern part of Ilocos Norte and Vigan in one day. We found out that with a car, it was possible. Here’s the rundown of our tour:

We woke up early to get to the Paoay Sand Dunes before it got too hot. a good thing, too, because by 7 AM the heat was assuming desert-like levels. The sand dunes, of course, are only like a really huge beach by the West Philippine Sea. It was quite impressive and delightful, and we spent a bit of time by this structure from the Pedro Penduko film.

That’s actually a dummy up there.

Reliving Panday

Here’s a picture of me enjoying my summer vacation.

Next, we went to Fort Ilocandia. I think the original idea was to go to the casino, but it was too early. (A good thing for this cash-strapped traveler, too.) We just stayed for a bit here to take pictures, rest, and gaze at its polished interior.

Fort Ilocandia

We headed to the Malacañang of the North next. Also in Paoay, this used to be the residence of the Marcoses. It has since been converted to a museum. We adored the airiness of the rooms and the Filipiniana designs.

Malacañang ti Amianan (Malacañang of the North)

One word, one number: Proclamation 1081.

Dining Hall

Facing the placid Paoay Lake

We ate empanadas here — it was really delicious with longganisa and sukang Iloko.

It was nearing noontime when we headed to the UNESCO World Heritage site of the St. Augustine Church in Paoay (and Cafe Herencia, made famous by the movie Suddenly, It’s Magic). The church is made of coral stones in a fusion of Baroque and Oriental architecture.

Paoay Church

Paoay Church interior

Massive stone buttresses on the sides of Paoay Church.

Going westward, we went to Batac for the Marcos Museum and Mausoleum. It was crowded when we got there, with people ambling around for photos of the late president’s many, many memorabilia.

Marcos, a reader of English literature.

Three of Imelda Marcos’ many dresses.

The mausoleum is right beside the museum. No photographs were allowed inside. The walls inside were painted black, and Marcos’ body was surrounded by white daisies. As for the body itself — it was a surreal experience, being there. I had a difficult time trying to connect the body with the man because the body looked unreal, as though the whole was made of wax and merely dressed in the requisite barong tagalog. I spent what few seconds we had there staring, trying to convince myself that the hands were actual human hands.

Then we had to leave. Such is time; we have so little, and trying to make it stop, no matter how powerful one is, is mere delusion.

*

We spent about three hot hours in Vigan, most of it aboard a kalesa.

We parked near Plaza Salcedo — the site of Gabriela Silang’s public hanging — and the Vigan Cathedral. We had lunch in the quaint Cafe Leona, formerly the house of Ilocana poetess Leona Florentino. Cafe Leona still retained its old architecture — plus the food, though quite steep in price, is good.

St. Paul’s Cathedral in Vigan

Tahong, pinakbet, and bagnet in Cafe Leona. My students should recognize the tablecloth anywhere…

Then, it was time for our obligatory kalesa ride. It was my first time on a kalesa and I was giddy with delight! Marian, our horse, and our kalesa driver took us to nearby barangays for sightseeing.

The church in Bantay

The bell tower beside the Bantay church

We also went to Pagburnayan, where potterers made these jars using foot-powered wheels. We also went to the massive kiln where the jars are baked.

We went to two museums — the Crisologo Museum and the Burgos Museum. The former belongs to the Crisologos, an old family in the area. The museum was built in Floro Crisologo’s memory; the congressman was shot in the Vigan Cathedral by a still unknown gunman. The museum now houses his and the family’s memorabilia. The Burgos Museum, of course, is owned by the family of Fr. Jose Burgos, one of the martyred priests. It holds Ilocano artifacts.

We ended our tour by passing through Calle Crisologo. It was quite busy as the people were preparing for a fiesta that week. We went back there to buy souvenirs. (I bought sukang Iloko — which was rejected at the airport! I had to ask my friends who were traveling by bus to bring them to Manila for me.)

My fellow lakwatsero teachers

Souvenir stalls lining up the street

Calle Crisologo. I love the cobblestone paths!

It was a long day, as you can see. We got back to Bangui at nightfall.

The next day was spent for a short while in Laoag, where we went to the public market for longganisa and bagnet as pasalubong. Then we had lunch at the food court in Robinson’s. Now I think it was only fitting that we saw Imelda Marcos there, walking around with about half a dozen bodyguards around her, presumably as part of her electoral campaign. It was really strange and surreal, being on land that used to be theirs — and in many ways, is still theirs…

On May 6, Joey, Vince, Andy and I arrived in Yangon from Bangkok toward sundown. We headed to our Father Land Hotel to drop off our bags, and quickly headed back out to go to the Shwedagon Paya, which we heard was best seen at night — and was still open until 9PM.

We took a cab going there. At the entrance we paid 15000 kyats to a couple of betel nut-chewing young men, who gave each of us a ticket and a sticker. We removed our shoes and left them with others’ on a shoe rack. Then we took an elevator up.

The moment you behold the Shwedagon Pagoda up close would take your breath away.

The huge golden chedi is one thing.  A former guide later on told us that the crown actually holds some gems, diamonds included. Indeed, at certain angles you’d see one winking.

Then there are the many buildings housing several images of the Buddha in different positions. Practically everything is in gold, and it was rather easy to overlook the many intricate details around us.

And then there are the images of the Buddha, some of which had blinking multicolored LED lights forming a sort of halo behind his head. It was kind of jarring as they foregrounded the ancient chedi and the monuments in a display of modern tackiness.

So I tried to avoid them as much as possible in my pictures. And there was so much else to see.

Those pillars are made of broken mirrors.

We went around the chedi counterclockwise (which is wrong; one should walk around any Buddhist monument clockwise for greater luck, but we were new to the place and pretty ignorant). I got to people-watch a bit, which was my sort of way of getting my bearings in a new country. Some were praying to the many Buddha images; many were walking around or simply sitting on the floor, probably marveling as we were at the chedi.

The former guide showed us around, taking our pictures and showing us some good places to take pictures from.

Details on a pillar.

A jade Buddha with a coronet made of gold and rubies.

Taken by the guide from under a bodhi tree

This was our introduction to the Golden Land. I might have needed to pick up my jaw from the ground a few times.

Leaving the Shwedagon Pagoda and entering a marketplace.

Leaving the Pagoda and entering a marketplace as we looked for a place to eat was like entering the belly of the city (though we were to find out the next day that it was nothing compared to downtown Yangon). It was a scene reminiscent of many countries in southeast Asia — poverty beside a monument to opulence. Granted, this sort of opulence has religious roots, unlike the monuments to the gods of capitalism in my country.

Still, Myanmar already felt like home, for reasons that unfolded themselves to us in the coming days.

This poem brings back memories of a secret that’s happily kept as one, even though everybody else is on it anyway.

Ode to a Secret Love
Pablo Neruda

They’ve guessed
our secret,
you know.
They see me,
they see us,
and nothing
has been said—
neither your eyes
nor your voice, neither your hair
not your love have said a word—
but suddenly
they know,
they know without even knowing
they know.
I wave goodbye and set off
in another direction,
and they know
you’re waiting for me.

Joyfully
I live
and sing
and dream,
sure
of myself.

They are aware,
somehow,
that you are my joy.
They see
through my heavy trousers
the keys
to your door,
the keys
to writing paper, to moonlight
among jasmines,
to the song that sings in the waterfall.
And you without opening your mouth
speaking,
you crystal-clear
closing your eyes
or nursing
a red dove
nestled in black leaves,
the flight
of a hidden heart
and then
a syllable,
a drop
from heaven,
in one’s ear
the soft
sound of shade and pollen
and everybody
knows it,
my love:
it makes the rounds
of men
in bookstores
and women
as well,
and close by
the marketplace,
whirling,
the ring
of our
secret
secret
love.

Let it
go
rolling
through the streets,
let it take
portraits
and walls by surprise,
let it come and go
and pop up
with fresh
greens in the market.
It has
soil
and roots
and a poppy
on top,
your mouth
a poppy.
Our entire secret,
our key,
our hidden
word,
our shadow or
whisper,
comments
someone
made
when we weren’t around—
it’s just a poppy,
a poppy.

Love
love
love—
O secret flower,
invisible
flame,
bright scar
from the burning brand!

What did he do during this journey? Of what was he thinking? As in the morning, he watched the trees, the thatched roofs, the tilled fields pass by, and the way in which the landscape, broken at every turn of the road, vanished; this is a sort of contemplation which sometimes suffices to the soul, and almost relieves it from thought. What is more melancholy and more profound than to see a thousand objects for the first and the last time? To travel is to be born and to die at every instant…

Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

The thing is, I think I may be a little depressed.

This morning, I finally got out of bed after having pressed Snooze on my phone twice. Then I think I got my towel and headed downstairs for a bath. It was when I got to the bottom step that it dawned on me: I’d done the exact same thing for about a month now — and for many, many months before.

This is after having woken up in different hotels and hostels, an hour before my alarm buzzed, with the sudden jerk of realization that I had somewhere to go to that day, and getting up anyway because my head was already buzzing even though I needed the sleep. This is after having been to too many new places for only six weeks, hopping from one province, one country to another. This is after being alert and wide-eyed all the time because I was suddenly fully aware of my own mortality, so aware that it shaped every thought, so aware that I could feel it in my skin — that this could be the last time I’d see Chiang Mai or Yangon, that I could meet an accident while riding a habal-habal in Dumaguete, that I might not be able to go back home in Manila. And yet I went looking for adventure anyway.

And now that I’m back home…

I take a bath and eat breakfast, leave the house with my brother, and navigate the city among jeepneys that belch smoke at hardworking people who, like us, are on their way to work. I go to my desk and open my laptop, and I see that my wallpaper is a shot I took of a temple in Bagan while we were chasing the sunrise in a horsecart. And I realize that I’ve forgotten the name of our horsecart driver, and that I’d have to go over my notes of the time to remember. This brings sudden, unbidden tears to my eyes; I stop them from falling because I’m wearing my requisite daily makeup.

It must be wrong, I think, that I covet so much. That I’d rather laze around in a land far away instead of working for whatever future I’d eventually have. That I work for (mainly) selfish reasons, unlike my friends who work because they have mouths to feed, and yet I’m the one who is dissatisfied.

So aside from my daily trip to work and my weekly commute to the so-called Gates of Hell, the traveling I do now is vicarious. I bring my students with me (a few of whom have actually gone to Europe) to ancient Greece and Rome. I try to derive metaphors from scuba diving and riding a train. I look at pictures, plan itineraries as though I had just a bit more money. I attempt to write my master’s thesis so that I could think about the next professional step forward, even though I am uninspired. I write less nonfiction and more lesson plans and tests. I think that maybe I’m just battling hormones right now. And I teach, still, knowing that it’s a sin to allow this feeling of dissatisfaction creep into my classroom.

And I look forward to the semestral break.

Sule Pagoda

It’s hard to believe Yangon till you’re in it. For me, it was like a small Philippine city, with its roads and pedestrians who cross said roads with quick fatalistic steps. However, its people — blue-collared workers and office workers alike — are in colorful longyis which they adjust and retie around their waists while walking. The smell of betel nut permeates the air, and the sidewalks are stained with rust-red juice spat out by the passersby. (The first time a Myanmar spits out what looks like blood is always shocking. Then you, the traveler, starts getting used to it.)

It was our second day in Yangon. We took a taxi from our hotel to the Sule Paya. Unfortunately we’d gone to the Shwedagon Pagoda the night before, so everything else, even if they are inlaid with gold, seemed a little anticlimactic.

Sule Paya

Sule Paya. Notice the small transport for gold leaf.

Independence Monument near Sule Paya.

Andy and I went to downtown Yangon on our own. It was a hot summer day in peninsular southeast Asia, but there was always something that held our attention: formerly banned (and illegally copied) books being sold on the streets, palm readers, and the rare fruit vendor.

Books on Aung San Suu Kyi in downtown Yangon

This fortune teller told me that I’m good-natured, that I was going to have many lovers this year, and that I’m going to win the lottery soon. Hmmm.

My good-natured smile.

Navigating Yangon was a different adventure altogether, as we had to strain through the language barrier. Buying mangoes involved a great deal of pointing, bowing, and smiling. Getting a palm reading involved speaking and writing, and so much laughter. However, there are Myanmar people who speak conversational English well enough, even though the sidewalk vendor would have to call him from a few meters away, and many could give you the price of a fruit in kyats in English.

Yangon is filled with beautiful, crumbling colonial buildings…and cars.

We finally arrived at our destination: The Strand hotel. We had snacks here — for a steep price, admittedly, but the air conditioning was a blessed respite. It still retains (or remade) some of its colonial-era interiors, I think, so it was easy to imagine Rudyard Kipling eating a meal not far from us.

At The Strand, Yangon

We stayed in the lobby for a while longer until Joey and Vince rejoined us. Then we headed back out, walking along the narrow streets of the city, among decaying buildings and men conversing during afternoon teatime under colorful umbrellas. We dropped by a bookstore and bought what seemed to reflect our varied interests: VInce bought a book on Burmese temple designs, Joey bought a novel and a book of folklore, and I bought a travel narrative.

Yangon streets

A pretty red-brick colonial-era building that none of us can identify

We headed to the Bogyoke Aung San Market north of downtown. The area was more organized, though traffic slowed down near the market.

More Aung San Suu Kyi merchandise

We took a taxi back to our hotel from here. After a nice chat with our hotel hosts, we headed to the bus station — more than an hour away by taxi! — where we took a night bus to Bagan.

The temples of Bagan at sunrise as seen from Shwesendaw Paya

My whole Southeast Asia tour sort of expanded itself from one simple plan: to see the temple-strewn land of Bagan in Myanmar. I’d read all about how one could climb up a temple at sunrise or sundown and see many, many temples as far as the eye could see while waiting for the sun to peek out of the horizon. The very thought excited me, and one day last year I decided that I should go to Myanmar.

We arrived in Nyaung U at 4 AM on May 8th, still sleepy from a very comfortable ride, so we weren’t prepared for the barrage of horsecart drivers jostling for passengers. It took us a while to gather our wits and accept a ride to Bagan, which was a few kilometers away, for 12000 kyats. We probably got ripped off, but as it turned out, it was a rather long ride.

The sky started turning purple as we bounced about in the horsecart. I was just wondering if we could start our tour already then and there when our driver pointed to a nearby temple. “Would you like to see the sunrise?” he asked.

“Is there a fee?” I asked by way of answer.

“No, it’s okay.”

I was mystified. We agreed, and we got to the temple to find that we’d arrived after visitors who’d gone on bikes and tourist buses. I went up the temple (which I later learned was Shwesendaw Paya) and saw the travelers already facing the twilight. It was bright enough such that I could already take pictures.

A few minutes more and a hush fell upon everyone when the sun started to peek out of the horizon.

It was just marvelous — there were just so many of them! They were none as grand as Angkor, it’s true, but there’s a different sort of sacredness in the sheer number of temples that we saw that morning.

And yes, that morning I was more than ever convinced than I can make my dreams of travel come true.

Brgy. 16, winner of the MassKara Festival Streetdance – Barangay Category Competition

I spent one weekend in Bacolod City gorging on chicken inasal, seeing the old houses in Talisay and Silay, and (of course) watching the Street Competition of the MassKara Festival. It was the first world-renowned Philippine festival that I’ve ever seen. I must admit I wasn’t prepared for the colors and spectacle!

My stakeout was the corner of San Sebastian St. and Araneta Ave., where the streetdance passes through. There was such a huge crowd even with the sun so high up the sky, and with my 18-55mm zoom lens, I really had to jostle among the crowd to get good close-ups. At some point I found myself running to get a good shot of the dancers right before their marshals, pulling ropes, came to rein the crowd away from the dancers. Oh, and I had to contend with the right-after-noontime sun, which made it a little difficult to capture bright photos of the dancers as well.

Nonetheless, it was such a spectacular parade to watch. I was wondering the whole time who designed and created the performers’ costumes, and how the performers themselves were able to dance in such heat. They were probably sweltering inside — but the smiling masks, well, masked whatever they were feeling then. And they looked so amazing, really.

Brgy. 16 also won best in costume

I liked this barangay’s performance quite a lot!

Right after the barangay streetdance came these huge model figures of popular culture icons. They had already been paraded along Lacson St. the night before, during the Electric MassKara parade. Here are a couple I found interesting:

Nicki Minaj

Vice Ganda, a centaur

Souvenirs from the Bacolod City plaza

I was in Bacolod City for the MassKara weekend this year. It was just a couple of days — the teacher in me could not even bring myself to take a day off on a Friday! Nonetheless, I was able to jam-pack one Saturday with several activities, so that the next day could be devoted to watching the streetdance competition.

Here are the things you could do in Bacolod and its surrounding towns, all in one day:

Walk around Silay City

We arrived early in the morning on a Saturday, so we had some time to walk around Silay City. One good thing was that it was not even 7am and there was a slight cooling breeze. However, this also meant that we could not go into any museum.

San Diego Pro-Cathedral in Silay

You could just walk around the area around the plaza and cathedral and see the ancestral homes of sugar barons here and there. I chanced upon the Balay Negrense without having to consult Google maps.

Victor Fernandez Gaston Ancestral House, also known as Balay Negrense

A monument to a pharmacy on Cinco de Noviembre street. This is where revolutionaries held their meetings to overthrow the Spanish colonial forces

One of the heritage houses, the Cesar Lacson Locsin Ancestral House, is now also known as the El Ideal Bakery. We had breakfast here. I ordered arroz caldo and coffee and helped myself with generous helpings of muscovado sugar. Yum.

El Ideal Bakery

Visit San Sebastian Cathedral in Bacolod

After Silay, we headed to Bacolod. The first thing to see was the Bacolod cathedral. Lately it became (in)famous for its huge poster denouncing pro-RH bill senators and calling them “Team Patay”. Ah, well.

San Sebastian Cathedral in Bacolod City

I always love photographing church interiors, especially from the back. And this cathedral is so grand and gorgeous.

Interior of San Sebastian Cathedral

Eat chicken inasal at Manokan Country

Manokan Country is a series of seemingly old and dusty restaurants on a street near SM Bacolod. There were so many choices, so I decided to go in where there were a lot of people: Aida’s.

We had to wait for 30 minutes for our order and we were getting grumpier by the minute, so there was really no time to take fancy pictures of the chicken once our order arrived. I gobbled up the food (we had to use our bare hands for everything); then, about five minutes later, I realized how good the food was.

It was so good we didn’t care about the long wait. We went back the next day and I finally had an Instagram photo of my very flavorful chicken breast and artery-clogging fried rice:

So damn good. I’d go back to Bacolod just for this.

See The Ruins in Talisay City

Toward sundown, we went to Talisay, which is just north of Bacolod, to see the famous Ruins. It’s an old house which got burned decades back, and all that’s left is its stone pillars and arches. It’s beautiful especially at sundown.

The Ruins

There were so many people, though. I’d assumed there would only be a few since all of the pictures I’d seen of it showed empty lawns.

Eat dessert at Calea

For dinner, since we were still full of chicken inasal, we went to Lacson Street where the Electric MassKara parade was going to be held. I took the chance to go through the partygoers there and find this famous bakeshop called Calea. People from Bacolod I’ve met were always raving about it, so I decided to pay a visit.

Calea cakes

I tried the Oreo cheesecake, which was baked (and not frozen, so plus points for that) and was not too sweet (which I also loved). I wasn’t able to try the other flavors, though.

See the Lagoon

One bad thing about being there in Bacolod on a MassKara weekend is that there just are so many people — I think I nearly fainted while being squeezed from all sides by the Lacson Street crowd — and so much trash. The Lagoon may have been pretty, with the new City Hall as its backdrop, but that weekend wasn’t the case.

We waited there for the Electric MassKara parade, but it rained hard for about an hour. I got to see the parade only from afar.

There were no regrets waiting for that parade, though. Seriously, if there’s anything I regret about Bacolod, it’s that I didn’t eat enough.

The Boardwalk at Cloud 9 in Siargao

Fellow teachers Edison, Angel, Czhar, Weng, DJ, and I took advantage of our school’s sembreak to set our students’ test papers aside — but just for five days — and go explore more beautiful places here in the Philippines. We also went to cross out some items in our bucket lists: Czhar wanted to surf, and Edison wanted to see the stingless jellyfish of Sohoton Cove. I initially wanted to see the Enchanted River of Surigao del Sur, but given our lack of time, we decided to put that off for later. Our trip then consisted of going around Surigao City and the nearby town of Mabua, surfing and island hopping in Siargao, and visiting the gorgeous Sohoton Cove in Bucas Grande.

Mabua Pebble Beach

I think that by now, we could also start crossing out the list of things to do in the Philippines according to the old “Pilipinas, Tara Na!” Department of Tourism music video. We could finally proudly say that we’ve done Jessa Zaragosa’s “Mag-surfing sa Siargao”. (We actually watched the video again the night after we surfed and cheered loudly during that part. That was priceless.)

Mga kapwa lakwatsero at lakwatserang guro

Our itinerary

(Traveling with this crowd always entails doing unplanned activities. Much of what follows happened out of the blue.)

1. Day 1: Fly from NAIA to Surigao via a Cebu Pacific ATR
2. Have lunch at Gaisano
3. Rent a jeep to Mabua
4. Check in at Mt. Bagarabon Mountain Resort
5. Climb the trail to the rock formations
6. Swim at dusk
7. Day 2: Catch the 5:45am ferry to Siargao (2 hours and 45 minutes)
8. Take a hired van to Wayfarers at Cloud 9
9. Have lunch at Laida’s
10. Hire a boat to go island-hopping in Guyam, Daco, and Naked Islands
11. Nap (which turned to a 14-hour sleep, gosh)
12. Day 3: Watch the sunrise at the Boardwalk
13. Hire a habal-habal to General Luna
14. Eat at Aventino’s
15. Walk to the cemetery, swim in the rain
16. Find a boatman who could take us to Bucas Grande
17. Take a habal-habal back to Cloud 9
18. Surf! In the rain!
19. Dinner, bonding, and sleep at Wayfarers
20. Day 4: Take a habal-habal to General Luna
21. Breakfast at Maridy L’s
22. Take the hired boat to Sohoton Cove in Bucas Grande Island at 7:00am (2 hours 30 minutes)
23. Tour Sohoton Cove
24. Take the hired boat to Hayanggabon Port in mainland Surigao
25. Have a late lunch at the eatery by the port
26. Take a public van to Surigao City
27. Get a tricycle
28. Check in at Travelers’ Inn
29. Dinner at Bebie’s Barbecue at the port
30. Coffee and bonding at True Brew (across Gaisano)
31. Back to Travelers’ Inn
32. Day 5: Take a hired tricycle to search for pasalubong (and the elusive sayuksok)
33. Check out; take tricycle to airport
34. Fly back to Manila

Jellyfish Lagoon in Sohoton, Bucas Grande

Our budget

Our limited budget meant that we had to sacrifice a few things, particularly a land tour around Siargao and a trip to the Magpupungko pool in Siargao (although the weather on our Day 3 was also at fault). But after a year of a lot of traveling, I’ve reached the conclusion that I don’t have to see and experience everything — except, perhaps, the best stuff. In this case, surfing and Sohoton were “non-negotiables”.

October 27, a quarter hour before ten in the morning, is memorable to me because it was the first time I experienced running across an airport terminal to catch our flight. My travel buddies and I did check in at the airport early, but we took our time eating our breakfast. We heard our names being paged while on our way to the boarding area. Later on we realized that we’d just re-enacted Home Alone and countless other movies.

A little more than two hours later, on the plane, the captain told us that landing was taking a while because of overcast skies and rains, and he said that there was a possibility of our flight being diverted to Mactan. I started to worry. We did land though, thankfully, at about half past noon.

The first order of the day was looking for “authentic” lunch. We asked around for a good place to eat. The guard at the airport and the tricycle driver pointed us to Gaisano, particularly at Mang Inasal. On the other hand, we decided to go to another local restaurant in Gaisano which sold P99 combo meals and P200 eat-all-you-can meals. It was the first (and perhaps only) wrong move of our trip as the restaurant was undermanned, service was slow, my fish fillet was cold, and my tartar sauce turned out to be mayo mixed with catsup. However, we did discover a yummy local dessert called sayongsong. This is important to note.

We decided to hire a jeep (P200) to Mabua, just a few kilometers from Gaisano, to see its famed pebble beach. It reminded me of the beach in Lobo in Batangas, but here in Mabua one could barely see a patch of sand or soil under the smooth pebbles. By this time the sun was blessedly peeking behind gray and white clouds.

We parked our stuff in Mt. Bagarabon Beach Resort and headed straight to the steps that led to the other side of the mountain. Climbing the steps let to some magnificent views of the beach.

Descending on the other side, we found a rock formation where we spent some time taking pictures and drinking in the sights and sea breeze. Just a few days before, we were steeped in work and stressed out from our classes; all that seemed so far away as we looked at our surroundings.

Mabua Pebble Beach in Surigao City. Suddenly, zen.

We went back to the resort, dropped our bags into our family room, and headed back out to bathe in the sea well after sundown.

Guyam Island, near Siargao

If we’d been running across the NAIA terminal 3 to catch our plane the day before, our hired jeepney was roaring at max speed across the Surigao countryside for us to make it to the first ferry to Siargao that day. Our driver had told us that the first trip was at 6am, so at 5 we were still taking our sweet time sipping coffee even though our driver was telling us to hurry. It turned out that the boat was almost full when we got there at 5:20am. At 5:30 a coast guard inspected the boat; by 5:45 we’d already left the port.

On the way to Siargao on a fine morning

The trip to Siargao via the LQP ferry took about two hours and 45 minutes. Edison, Angel and I spent some time on the roof of the cabin amid sacks of vegetables and other passengers’ cigarette smoke. What we saw: first there were pretty islands, then crashing waves, then Chinese vessels. Finally we got to the Dapa port in Siargao.

Mangroves near Cloud 9

We had hired a van (P1000) to take us to Cloud 9, particularly to Wayfarers, where we’d been booked for two nights. After dropping off our backs we immediately went looking for lunch—and lunch is steep in Cloud 9! At the same time, with the help of Ms. Jane (who runs Wayfarers with husband Martin), we were able to hire a boat to take us island hopping around Siargao.

At 10am, we were off; our first stop was Guyam Island. True to its name, it’s small, and I walked around it in less than 10 minutes. I marveled at the crystal clear waters around the island. Pretty soon we were the only ones left there. We took many pictures here, mostly of ourselves.

I’ve been to so many island hopping trips but this is probably the first time I’ve been on such a small island.

A cottage on Guyam Island.

Next stop was Daco Island. Upon stepping on it, our feet immediately sank under the fine white sand that could outrival Boracay’s. Also true to its name, Daco is the “big” island, with cottages and vendors of coconut.

DJ contemplating the sea

At Daco Island, near Siargao

Our final stop was Naked Island—“naked” because there was no vegetation here at all. It was just a mass of white sand in the middle of the sea, and it’s even smaller than Guyam Island. It was one of the most desolate places I’ve ever been.

Naked Island.

Edison walking along the shore of little Naked Island

Our trip back to Cloud 9 was eventful because the waves were so huge by then. It was enough to get scared about, but I was left marvelling at the wonders of the outrigger boat. Even though the waves were hitting us from the side, our boat didn’t tip over but simply wobbled around, the outrigger balancing us perfectly.

It was such a tiring day that when we got back to the resort, instead of taking a nap, Czhar and I slept until the morning after. That 14-hour sleep was awesome.

The Boardwalk at Cloud 9

The day after was rainy, drenching our plans of taking an island tour of Siargao. We simply decided to spend the morning in downtown General Luna after a short early morning visit to the Boardwalk.

The Boardwalk at Cloud 9 in Siargao

There was a black dog who followed us, or rather, led us to the Boardwalk, then followed us when we had coffee. We started calling him “Blackie”. Its actual name, as it turned out, is Taba, and is owned by the owner of Hippies Surf Shop, the local surf shop.

There on the Boardwalk, we saw the strong waves we were going to surf later in the day.

We took three habal-habals (P30/person) to GL and had brunch at Aventino’s, a well-known pizza place in Siargao. I had their bangsi-silog, sort of like a delicious crunchy tuyo, for P50.

Pizza at Aventino’s

Bangsi silog

The local public high school. I could teach here…

The church in front of Aventino’s

Walking around the seaside brought us to a store where Edison and Moore sang some videoke in the middle of the rain. Then we walked along the white and occasionally rocky shoreline amid the drizzle and rain, looking for the beach near the cemetery. Just a few meters away, we saw kids swimming and playing with makeshift surfboards. We spent some minutes here swimming and mainly getting carried away by the waves.

Soon, we had snacks, bought supplies, and went back to Cloud 9 for an afternoon of surfing.

This was WAY easier on land. Edison took this photo.

I admit that I was a little worried about learning how to surf because I don’t exactly have the best sense of balance in the world—but, really, one goes to Siargao to surf, right? Besides, I’m willing to try almost anything once. We first learned the basics on the shore—paddling, standing up, and the stance—and then we were off in the sea for an hour.

Angel and Edison learned the quickest. I tried to surf the wave once, twice, ten times…I really don’t know how many times I slipped and tumbled, but I do have a few bruises to show for it! At some point I was able to ride the wave for something like two minutes, but our instructors then told us that our hour was up. Rain was also starting to pour.

And then, one of the instructors (who also happens to be our habal-habal driver!) told me to take another shot at it. I transferred to another surfboard, a bigger one, and I paddled back to the sea.

“Para sa ‘yo ‘yan!” said the instructor as a wave approached. He pushed my surfboard, then I stood up…and before I knew it, I was actually riding the wave!

The instructor then said that I had to do it again. So I followed, him bringing me back to where the waves built up. The rain was getting stronger and the waves were slamming against my face already. I already wanted to go back to the shore with my friends—sure, I wanted to ride another wave, and the water was shallow, and I swim fairly well, but this was just ridiculous.

Still, I persisted, mainly because Kuya was insistent and I didn’t want to let him down as I’d already extended my hour-long lesson. One more push of the surfboard, and I was able to surf the wave again with my friends on the shore cheering me on. I finally got to yell “Cowabunga!” and remained standing even though I was dangerously close to the rocky shore.

Surfing in Siargao was fantastic. Already we’re making plans for another surfing expedition, this time in Baler.

In the meantime, though, we went back to Wayfarers to wash up and have dinner. We were going to eat our canned goods bought from General Luna, and Ms. Jane was gracious enough to heat our food for free. It was one of the best corned beef I’ve ever had! We spent the rest of the evening reliving the day by looking at pictures, drinking tablea chocolate and/or beer, watching Wow! Philippines videos on YouTube (Wayfarers has a strong Internet connection), and chatting aimlessly. We were finally so relaxed; we’d had months not feeling that way.

Sohoton Cove in Bucas Grande is…how to put it? Majestic. Enchanting. Quite unbelievable, really. It’s the true kind of beauty that cannot really be captured in photos or cameras; you’d have to see it to believe it. I’d thought I’d already seen some of the most beautiful places in the Philippines—and then there’s Sohoton.

We prayed for calm seas with no rain for our fourth day in Surigao del Norte. God must have thought we’d been good, for at 5am our boatman Kuya Dante called Edison, telling him that the seas were calm enough for us to go. So we packed our bags and said goodbye to Ms. Jane of Wayfarers – Cloud 9, headed to General Luna on habal-habals (backpacks balanced on our thighs), and at 7am headed out to Bucas Grande on a hired boat.

Bucas Grande Island is considered part of Siargao, though it’s a two-and-a-half-hour boat ride away. Throughout the boat ride we waved back at fishermen and had pretty views of the surrounding islands and islets and views of unbelievably turquoise waters.

Nearing Sohoton Cove was like entering an otherworldly place. We all gazed our surroundings in awe. Truly, it was as though Kuya Dante was aptly named as he and his fellow boatmen steered us to paradise.

Nearing Sohoton

Pretty soon, we saw the receiving area of Sohoton. After briefly being introduced to Sohoton and paying the requisite fees, we donned life vests and got on a small motor boat to the Sohoton Cove—hurriedly, because the high tide was going to prevent our entrance.

It was soon clear why: to get into the lagoon, the boat has to go through a cave half-submerged in water. On the other side is this lagoon of breathtaking beauty, with the clearest waters; apart from our voices and the motor of our boat, only the sounds of birds hiding in trees abound; I breathed in the scent of its lush, damp forest.

Fellow travelers

The famous horsehead-shaped rock in Sohoton Cove

Our first stop was the Hagukan Cave, so called because of the sound created when water rushes in during high tide. “Kung maputi ka, mas puputi ka pa dito!” said our guide. I’d wondered what that meant, until we entered the cave. The floor was limestone white that it glowed in the little light that entered the cave, and we ourselves looked as though we were glowing.

Outside Hagukan Cave

The next cave had us climbing a bit to get out, until we were some 30 feet higher than the opening we entered. We already knew what we were in for: we had to jump 15-20 feet to the water below to get back to our boat. The hint was to look at our surroundings. I looked beyond me (and not at the water below), and jumped. I screamed when I broke the surface. We even have a video:

We’re about to jump! Not seen: our shaking knees.

We went back out of the lagoon to the receiving area and transferred to smaller paddle boats. Smaller boats had only one passenger, while DJ and I shared a boat with a boatman. Then, we went to the Jellyfish Lagoon.

Entering the Jellyfish Lagoon

Jellyfish Lagoon in Sohoton, Bucas Grande

It’s not summertime so there were not too many stingless jellyfish in the lagoon, but we still found a few. We got to touch them, too.

Too soon, we went back to the receiving point, where Kuya Dante waited for us in his boat to take us back to mainland Surigao.

We were in Sohoton for a very short while, perhaps for only three hours or so, and yet it packs more memories than the previous months. This is one of the reasons why I travel.

It was disappointing to go back to mainland Surigao del Norte after Bucas Grande. We hadn’t even reached the shore when we felt that disappointment.

Hayanggabon Port in Surigao del Norte. Those boats are, yes, still at sea.

There seemed to be a clear demarcation where the blue waters met brown on Claver Bay.  This brown water apparently comes from the mining operations around the area. This bit of news from March 2012 states that Congressman Pichay have given “marching orders” to get the mining companies to clean the coastlines up. The picture above was taken in October 2013. What has happened?

We took a van — empty at Hayanggabon but eventually stuffed with passengers and cargo before we knew it — going back to Surigao City. The scenery around was not pretty. At all. It’s like there is brown sand everywhere — on the road, in the streams we passed through, in the air.

There was a talk to our students some months ago regarding mining in Palawan, and one of the arguments against mining put forward by the speaker was that the profit generated in mining covers less than 2% of the country’s GDP. To add to that, mining in Surigao destroys what profit could have been generated by, say, tourism or fishing. I also wonder what has happened to the land, especially now that Typhoon Haiyan/Yolanda has just battered it…

It was a depressing van ride, especially as we’d just been to something akin to paradise.

(Journeying James has written about the issue in 2012 and 2013. Nothing has changed. Except maybe the size of the bulge in the local government officials’ pockets?)

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Back in Surigao City. First we had to look for lodgings. Next, we had to look for souvenirs and sayongsong, the local delicacy — cone-shaped kakanin wrapped in banana leaf. Then, we had to have dinner.

We stayed in Travellers’ Inn somewhere farther from the airport than we’d have liked, but it brought us closer to the market and the port. Unfortunately we couldn’t find any fridge magnets in the market, and what’s stranger was that the locals we asked didn’t seem to know where to find sayongsong.

We headed to the port then to look for dinner. The road to the port is lined with barbecue houses. We decided to go to Bebie’s, which looked rather dubious since it was closed off and air-conditioned (for a barbecue place!), and it totally looked like a fire hazard. But it was recommended at the inn, so we went ahead and didn’t regret it.

What we ordered: rice wrapped in puso (coconut leaves), all sorts of barbecue (the best ones were the isaw and longganisa), and softdrinks. Since my birthday was nearing, it became a sort of celebration and libre.

Bebie’s barbecue. Picture courtesy of Edison.

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Some other adventures that night involved looking for a bar, which we found — appropriately, again — on Amat Street. The bar there was closed, however, so we went to the parlor beside it. Czhar and Weng had pedicures. When we went back outside, some men with bottles of gin and beer had already congregated on the sidewalk. Amat Street indeed.

So instead of drinking, we ended up doing something more teacher-like, which was to go to True Brew cafe in front of Gaisano. We went back to our lodgings right after, where Edison edited the video of our trip:

Really, I love how well-documented our trip is.

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Next morning was devoted to hunting for sayongsong. It had been a stroke of luck that our tricycle driver from Amat Street to True Brew found us again that same night as we went back to Travellers’ Inn. And he knew where to get us those elusive sayongsong: in Ipil.

Ipil, as it turned out, was a barangay near Mabua, which was where we’d gone on our Day One! We’d missed it. Regardless, we bought our pasalubong.

Sayongsong, finally! Picture by Edison.

As for souvenirs, it’s strange because the tourism office seemed to be the only place to get them, and there weren’t even enough. I reasoned that I could find that ref magnet in the airport. True enough, I was able to buy one there.