This blog entry should have been written last June if not for the takeover of my teacher life…and perhaps, even though the narrative was already running in my head as I was experiencing it, I still needed to digest what the whole experience meant. Or maybe I just got really lazy. :)

In any case, the year is about to end and I’ve realized that I haven’t written about my favourite trip this year—the five days I spent alone in Dumaguete and in nearby Siquijor and Apo Island—and that I should do something about it before I start forgetting even more faces and moments.

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Five days in Dumaguete: My itinerary as it happened

1. Day 1: Flew to Dumaguete via Cebu Pacific
2. Checked in at Harolds Mansion
3. Went to the Twin Lakes in Sibulan
4. Visited the Anthropology Museum of Silliman University
5. Went downtown (Dumaguete Cathedral, plaza, Sans Rival, Rizal Boulevard)
6. Day 2: Took a ferry to Siquijor
7. Checked in at Villa Marmarine
8. Took a whole-day tour around Siquijor
9. Day 3: Took a ferry back to Dumaguete
10. Took a jeep to Zamboanguinita and a boat to Apo Island
11. Checked in at Mario’s Scuba Diving and Homestay
12. Dived at Chapel Reef
13. Day 4: Walked around Apo Island
14. Snorkeled around Chapel Reef
15. Went back to Dumaguete, checked back in at Harolds
16. Ate at Cafe Antonio
17. Hung out at Rizal Boulevard
18. Day 5: Flew back to Manila

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I bought my plane tickets to Dumaguete on a whim when a co-teacher told me that class resumption was going to be later than expected. That meant I had two more weeks between my Southeast Asia tour and the faculty in-service training. Even then I was already feeling that I needed to squeeze every bit of time I have left in my youth.

After Southeast Asia, I almost didn’t want to go; I started to get cold feet about traveling alone, and I probably had travel fatigue by that point. But I’d already booked my flights and lodgings and decided to go ahead.

I arrived early in the morning, and after walking a little ways from the Dumaguete airport, I got myself dropped off to Harolds Mansion Hostel. I found out later that this was an ideal place: it was near Silliman University and a few minutes’ walk to Rizal Boulevard, which faced the sea. Upon dropping off my bags, I went to the reception and asked about how to go to the twin lakes of Balinsasayao and Danao in Sibulan, and to Casaroro Falls in Valencia. I found out that Valencia was west of Dumaguete and Sibulan, north, and couldn’t possibly visit both on one day, so I decided on a whim to go to the lakes in Sibulan instead.

I had to go to the plaza and take a jeepney there to the town of Sibulan. From there, I had to take a habal-habal for a steep price of P300. I was to find out that it was for good reason, as the trip was 45 minutes long. I was holding on for dear life as the motorcycle traversed alternating paved and stony roads that wound left, right, up, down the mountains—and neither kuya nor I had a helmet. The trip seemed endless! I chatted with kuya to distract myself, but mostly I allowed myself to look at my lovely surroundings (except when there was a ravine beside us!).

Yet I felt my being alive on my very skin, knowing that this was a dangerous thing I was doing and I could fall off the motorcycle and, I don’t know, die. And yet I was doing it, really going through it, to see beauty that’s so hard to find nowadays.  I remember having an epiphany here: I really am a Sagittarian.

When we neared our destination, I breathed in the dewy scent of the forest—one of my favorite smells in the world. I paid the fees and finally got to the visitors’ area of the Balinsasayao Twin Lakes Natural Park. I was one of the three visitors that morning; a couple from Switzerland came moments after I did.

I had a quick brunch and chatted with the caretaker, Kuya Mark, before I went to walk the paved walkway to a view deck to see Lake Danao. When Kuya Mark said “paved”, I was relieved as I was wearing only slingback flip-flops and a dress. Surprise, surprise: owing to the rain the previous day, the ground was difficult to walk on, and I was so worried about slipping as I was alone. I was muttering words of encouragement to myself all the way.

About half an hour later, I made it to the viewing deck where I could see both Balinsasayao and Danao Lakes. I rested here, almost in disbelief at the blueness of the lakes.

As I headed back, I went closer to the shore a few times, washing my now-sweaty face and admiring the clear waters. Closer to the visitors’ center, locals washed their clothes. I, being geographically challenged, managed to lose the path and had to climb some rocks before I got back. It was good for photo opportunities though.

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I headed back to Dumaguete and spent a fair bit of time in Silliman University. It was a strange feeling, having been let in by the guard in a university without him asking me for my ID. I almost felt like a fugitive. I really wasn’t in Manila anymore.

There were students playing Frisbee on the field by the amphitheatre. I sat there to rest, gaze at the university chapel, and read a bit of Rosario Cruz-Lucero’s amazing La India, or Island of the Disappeared—aptly set in Negros. I also headed to the museum—the exhibit on the tools of the mambabarang was the one I found most interesting.

I then walked to the Church of St. Catherine of Alexandria, better known as the Dumaguete Cathedral, which of course was right across the town plaza.

Next was the famous Sans Rival (as recommended by a former student), where I had a plate of spaghetti and a sans rival. It was so good.

Then I went to Rizal Boulevard and people-watched as I took photos. I was rather late for sundown, but the evening breeze was refreshing enough.

After sunset, I went back to Harolds. I put in a bit of school-related work before I went to sleep.

Related articles

• Traveling solo in Dumaguete: a late blog post
• A long day tour of Siquijor (part one), Cantabon Cave, and on traveling solo
• A long day tour of Siquijor (part two), and more musings on solo travel
• Diving in Apo Island

Traveling alone, albeit only for five days, meant that I had people asking me—why? Why alone, especially as a single woman? My mother asked me if I was going through a crisis. (This, coming from an OFW in the Middle East.) My boyfriend wanted to tag along, to which I vehemently said no, I wanted to meet hot, tanned foreigners in board shorts (ha!). My friends were incredulous: “Wouldn’t that be lonely? Who’s going to take your pictures?!” When I was conversing with locals, it was always the follow-up question after “Who are you with?” It doesn’t help that the lonely Filipina traveler is few and far between. We’re a culture that puts premium on relationships with our families and barkadas, I think, and going to an unfamiliar place with no support is quite unheard of in many circles.

Well, there was no crisis, I certainly didn’t go looking for fellow lonely travelers, and yeah, I did feel lonely, but only for short bursts of time. I did it anyway—for experience, for all those years I squandered staying put in Manila because I didn’t have anyone to travel with, for a break after weeks of traveling with a group. But looking back, I think I was mostly testing my strength. Others are doing it for months at a time; why not I for only five days, and with internet access to boot?

Oh, and I didn’t tell my parents that I was also going to Siquijor, land of magic and sorcery and the mambabarangs and whatnot. I was sure this was going to get disapproved. (Sorry, Ma, if you’re reading this.) From friends I got admonitions that I shouldn’t pick up a rock and bring it home and that I should be extra nice to the people there. Okay, I’d said; anyway, I’m nice.

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These were in my thoughts as I waited for the ferry that would take me to Siquijor on my second day in Dumaguete. I’d had a quick carbo-loaded breakfast in Harolds Mansion before heading to the ferry terminal. I must have been feeling sleepy still as I misunderstood the directions of the ticket seller. If I had a friend with me, I thought, he’d probably laugh at me.

In any case, I boarded the rather empty ferry and was on my way to Siquijor by 9am on the Delta Fast craft (P125, plus P15 for the terminal fee). Over an hour later, I was in Siquijor, marveling at the clear waters and the wide, white sand beach of the port.

Someone from the local Department of Tourism noticed me (looking very much like a tourist acting nonchalantly, I bet), and I found myself asking him how to get to Villa Marmarine, where I’d booked a room. He then directed me to the office, immediately telling me that I could also avail of the various land tours via tricycle with the published rates posted outside.

There were three choices for me: I could take a coastal land tour on the Siquijor Circumferential Road for P1000, or a mountain tour, with the tricycle climbing Mt. Bandilaan in the center of the island for P1200. Or I could take a mountain tour and a land tour in one for P2000, which meant cutting across Siquijor island from north to south, and then going eastward on the coast, back to Villa Marmarine. Of course I chose the third option, which included my ride from the port to Villa Marmarine and back. (One downside of traveling alone: you don’t have anyone to split the fees with.)

After taking pictures of the Church of St. Francis of Assisi, just across the port, I had lunch in Villa Marmarine before heading for the tour. Admittedly, Villa Marmarine was my most expensive accommodation to date (P800 for a double room and P190 for meals), but I did like the ambiance. It’s in Brgy. Candanay Sur in Siquijor town, which means it’s near the port and is right in front of a gorgeous, powdery white beach (though strewn with leaves when I got there). The beach here remains shallow even if you’re meters away from the shore.

After lunch, I got back on the tricycle. We headed first to Cantabon Cave, where I was to go spelunking (guide fee: P500, entrance: P20). After several silent questions of “Why the hell am I doing this again?” I went ahead, armed with a helmet and helped by two guides.

After some minutes of slow, careful treading, bumping my (mercifully helmeted) head on the stalactites, and admiring the rocks illuminated by my guides’ flashlight, we came across a sign saying “Mini Swimming Pool”. My guides encouraged me to take a dip. It was very refreshing—and cold!

About an hour later, we got back aboveground. I’d done so many things in two days, alone, and I was looking forward for more.

Part One of my day tour of Siquijor can be found here.

My next pit stop after Cantabon Cave was a viewdeck on Mt. Bandilaan, where I had an expansive view of Siquijor.

Afterwards, we went south to the town of Lazi, where we first went to Cambugahay Falls. It has three tiers and light-blue waters, and to get there, I had to go down several stone steps. (Going back up the road was obviously a chore!) I was alone among locals and a family of foreigners, but I couldn’t resist a swim!

I asked to be dropped off to the San Isidro Labrador Parish in Lazi. I snapped a few pictures of it and the convent across—the whole complex is part of a tentative list to be included in the Baroque churches of the Philippines, an entry to the UNESCO World Heritage Sites.

The church was empty save for some kids practicing a song and dance number. Afternoon light spilled through the windows. I took a moment to thank God I was there safe.

Next stop was the century-old balete tree. It would’ve been slightly creepy if not for the people who sold snacks around (and asked me the now-usual questions of why I was alone). I gave a donation here for its upkeep.

I asked the driver to stop at Sta. Maria Church, or the Church of the Divine Providence. Compared to the church in Lazi, this one looked modest, though it’s also more than a century old. One can find here a statue of Santa Rita de Cascia  holding a skull. I missed it by a few minutes, though, because it was taken for a procession. Local folklore states that the statue herself goes around town on her own and would return to the church with feet stained with grass and dirt.

Next was a public beach: the Salagdoong Beach Resort (entrance fee: P30). Pretty, although it could do away with the trash littered by the visitors.

There were families and barkadas who were there already, swimming, barbecuing and drinking. I was met with stares—some of the men were staring too long, and I resisted the urge to stare back as per warnings of my friends from Manila. And suddenly, I was hit with a wave of loneliness. I remember thinking that if my barkada were with me, we’d be the funniest bunch there, and there’d be someone taking account of our expenses, keeping our money, chatting amiably with the locals, planning the next impromptu stop, taking pictures and videos, dancing for everyone’s entertainment, and singing with me in the tricycle.

I was really tired by this time that I didn’t even bother to get out of the tricycle to take pictures of the Cang-Isok House, the oldest standing house in Siquijor (still standing in spite of the recent typhoon), and the mangroves in the Tulapos Marine Sanctuary. Anyway, it was getting dark.

I got back to Villa Marmarine with a little daylight left for a quick dip. Then, I lay in a hammock by the sea while I read my book until it got too dark. I was tired, but my head was abuzz. I was wondering how I could still enjoy my little trip — and I did enjoy it, immensely — even though I missed my friends badly.

Here’s what I thought then and could better articulate now:

1. When I traveled alone, I was the master of my own time and itinerary. If I wanted to go spelunking, I would, without anyone hanging back due to worries regarding safety and expenses.
2. That said, every mistake was blamable only on myself.
3. When I traveled alone, I realized things about myself. I realized that I was, after all, shy (!!!); and I had to overcome my shyness to be able to talk to strangers instead of letting someone do it.
4. When I traveled alone, I learned trust. I put my life in the hands of total strangers and came out alive and exhilarated.
5. When I traveled alone, I had moments of total peace on a wide white beach, lying in a hammock, book in hand, the lazy sea waves the only sound I could hear.

Apo Island is a 30- to 45-minute boat ride from mainland Negros. It’s tiny, just about 12 hectares in area. Everyday there’s about three hours of electricity, from 6 to 9 in the evening. Rainwater is collected for everyday use, so sometimes, in the summer months, the homestays would have no water for you to use for bathing, and you’d have to go back to a hostel in Dumaguete to wash off the salt your body has accumulated.

Apo Island is also one of my favorite places in the Philippines. Surrounding it is a world-class coral reef with 400 coral species and 700 fish species. On the eastern side is a renowned community-managed marine sanctuary, which was unfortunately heavily damaged by the storm surges of Pablo and Sendong. However, the reefs on the western side of the island remain intact.

The friendly, accommodating people here make a living out of tourism and fishing. There’s no electricity, but there’s the sea breeze. And it’s so quiet. When you sleep in the dark at night, alone in your dorm room, with your mosquito net the only possible defense you could have against the tuko that seems so close it’s giving you goosebumps, you suddenly realize that there is no sound of motor vehicle or electrical appliance you’ve been desensitized to back in the city. The only sound you can hear is your breathing and the singing cicadas. And, of course, the tuko.

I’m in love with this place mainly because here’s where I went scuba diving for the first time.

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How to get to Apo Island from Dumaguete

1. Take a jeep (P20) or bus (Ceres, non aircon, P25) south to Zamboanguita
2. Ask the driver to drop you off at the Malatapay market
3. Walk for about five minutes to the beach
4. You can charter a boat (P2000 for a small boat) or wait for the public boat at around 1 PM (P300 per passenger)
5. Ride the boat for about 45 minutes
6. Once at the shore, pay the P100 visitor’s fee

Suggested Accommodation and Diving in Apo Island

Mario Scuba Diving and Homestay
Apo Island, Dauin
Negros Oriental 6217
09063617254 / 09196223671
marspascobello[at]hotmail[dot]com

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Coming from an early morning trip from Siquijor to Dumaguete, I asked around for a jeep to Zamboanguita. I asked the driver to drop me off at Malatapay. This effectively made other passengers ask me where I was going, what I was doing alone, etc. It was all good.

I made the stop at the Malatapay market. The stalls were closed as it wasn’t a Wednesday. Once I got near the shore, though, I found an eatery and the small tourism office, where I took a deep breath of courage and woke up a napping man to ask him about the public boat to Apo Island.

Since I arrived an hour and a half early for the next public boat, I went back to the eatery where I had my lunch of sinigang na bangus. I also chatted with a woman from whom I bought kakanin. It was a strangely nice conversation because I was speaking in Tagalog and she in Cebuano, and we could still understand each other.

Soon enough, by 1PM, I boarded the public boat with three other passengers and lots of vegetables. As it turned out, one of the passengers was actually a niece of Mario Pascobello, the proprietor of Mario’s Scuba Diving and Homestay — where I’d earlier booked a P300 bed in their dorm — so she helped me on my way.

It was a 45-minute trip, and when I got to the island, I paid the requisite P100 visitor’s fee and went to Mario’s. I was the only visitor then. I was shown to my room and was introduced to my diving instructors.

I’d booked an Introductory Diving lesson for P2500 — a very low rate comparative to others — which would teach me the basics of diving on shallow waters and would take me to nearby Chapel Point at a maximum depth of 12 meters.  As it turned out, there was still time in the afternoon to do this little activity.

I got into rented gear and was taught some exercises and hand signals on shallow waters before my diving instructors and I headed out to the sea. I saw a row of sea urchins that seemed to stand sentinel against us invaders of the reef. And as we swam onward, I saw the seabed transform from mere rocks and sand to a glorious, colorful world of corals and sea creatures.

I’d snorkeled in other reefs before, such as in San Juan, Batangas and in Boracay, but Chapel Reef was so vast and colorful. We went around walls of corals and I saw some tube and branching corals, and fishes like lionfish and sweetlips. I’d never been so close to the corals and fish before, and being right by them, instead of above them, was a wondrous and humbling perspective to be in.

Then, my diving instructors gave me the hand signal for “turtle”. I looked around and gave the littlest underwater scream: there was a sea turtle perched on a coral, with three cleaner wrasses on its back. Just a few moments later, they signaled to me again, and I had to look behind and above me to see a turtle swimming to the surface. It looked as if it were slowly flying to the sun above us all. I stared in awe. It was all so beautiful.

Time flew so fast and before I knew it, we were swimming back to the shore. Standing up again on solid ground reminded me of how heavy my oxygen tank and weights were. I dragged myself back to the world of humans. It was as though the sea had invisible hands pulling me back.

Back in Mario’s, I took a bath (mercifully, we had water — I was to find out later that another resort didn’t). Toward sundown, I took pictures of the rocky coast and watched as boats docked and a solitary dog went swimming. I’d spent two quiet sunsets by the beach by then.

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Dinner was spent with my diving instructors and an American who arrived later in the afternoon. I had tinolang manok. Brian, being vegetarian, had squash, and I felt bad about my carnivorous self.

Among others, we talked about traveling. He’s middle-aged and well-traveled, while I said I still had so many countries to go to.

“Fil, you’re young,” he said. “Just go and travel while you can!”

I wanted to point out the obvious disadvantage of us middle-class earners in a third-world country who want to go to, say, the US or Europe, as opposed to Americans and Europeans who come to very cheap Southeast Asia. But instead I said, chuckling, “I’d have to save up for a long time!”

“Here’s the thing, Fil,” Brian replied. “Don’t even think that you can’t do it. Just go there and everything will fall into place.”

I totally believed it then. Seven months later, I still want to believe it.

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The evening, as I’d said, had electricity from 6 to 9, and guess what I heard from the dorm room? Videoke. But of course. Badly-sung power ballads were my background music as I put in a bit of work before the power was shut off again and the world was plunged to darkness and quiet. As for me, I had an uneasy sleep. The gecko worried me.

I woke up early the next day to go around the village and look for breakfast, which took the form of a couple of bread (P20), coffee, and my leftover mineral water. I also asked around how to go to the lighthouse.

As I climbed, paved stones gave way to a dirt track along a field where a couple of cows grazed lazily.

I wanted to climb the old lighthouse so that I could get a view of Apo Island, but I was alone and was afraid I’d fall with no one knowing. I decided that I had one too many adventures already.

Afterward, I had a long chat with a woman who sold sarongs as souvenirs in the village. I’d bought one and she told me to sit for a while to talk. We talked about our youth; she talked about settling in Apo Island with her husband who lived there.

I went snorkeling afterward, alone, at a depth farther than when I’d dived the day before (we had to take a boat to the place), while the dive instructors took Brian diving. I spent much of my time chasing a nonchalant sea turtle and picking up plastic litter.

Later, toward noontime, I bid my goodbyes — to the people at Mario’s, the lady who sold sarongs, the woman who manned the tourism office. I took a very small motorboat that could take only one person other than the boatman.

I felt like I’d made so many friends already. I wondered when I was going to see them again.

Back to Malatapay, where I bought a banana cue from the woman who spoke to me in Cebuano. Back to Dumaguete via a non-aircon Ceres bus. Back to Mario’s, where I spent half of the afternoon sleeping.

Related articles

• Traveling solo in Dumaguete: a late blog post
• Diving in Apo Island

There’s only so much you can eat in an afternoon when you’re alone in a new city, so here I’m going to talk about just a couple of restaurants in Dumaguete.

I was immediately attracted to the quaint Spanish-style architecture of the  the Spanish Heritage Building, where Cafe Antonio’s is tucked away on its second floor. It may seem dark inside, but I thought it was pretty, with enough Old Filipino design and retro posters to keep me interested.

I tried their hickory glazed BBQ pork ribs and their cookies and cream “frothiccino”. The cold coffee you can do away with, but their ribs is quite divine.

After this already filling dinner, I went back to Sans Rival, where I had (you guessed it) sans rival that is totally sans rival, plus their famous silvanas. I reserved three boxes for me to bring home the next day, right before my flight back to Manila early in the morning.

Then it was time for sunset again on Rizal Boulevard, where I not-so-discreetly (and not-so-successfully) took pictures of people walking their dogs and buying balloons from vendors. Stalls selling kikiam and fishballs had started bringing out monobloc tables and chairs as a crew was setting up a stage for what seemed like a night of concert sponsored by a local beer.

As for me, it was one of the moments when I felt introverted; I went back to Harold’s Inn as soon as it got too dark, and started writing. And who knew? I finished writing my tale seven months later. :P

Related articles

• Traveling solo in Dumaguete: a late blog post
• A long day tour of Siquijor (part one), Cantabon Cave, and on traveling solo
• A long day tour of Siquijor (part two), and more musings on solo travel
• Diving in Apo Island

If 2012 was the year when I rediscovered this repressed wanderlust, then 2013 was when I pursued it.

I went to more places in a year than I did for a whole decade prior. I went on a road trip with my family and passed through Maguindanao, Cotabato, and Sultan Kudarat, eventually ending up in Lake Sebu. I went swimming with whale sharks in Donsol.

I went to Palawan and finally saw ethereal El Nido and the wonder that is the Underground River. I saw fireflies and bioluminescent plankton on Iwahig River. Not a week later, I finally went to Ilocos Norte and Vigan.

I went straight to Thailand. I went to crazy Bangkok and saw the ruins of Ayutthaya. Then I rode on an overnight train to Chiang Mai, perhaps my favorite city of the lot, and bathed some elephants there.

Then I went to Myanmar, a place with the nicest people and the most golden of all pagodas, and finally fulfilled my dream of seeing the sunrise in Bagan. I went to Malaysia afterward and hopped from Kuala Lumpur, to Melaka, to Penang, and back again to KL.

A week before work for the new school year started, I went touring Dumaguete, Siquijor, and Apo Island alone. I also went scuba diving for the first time, and I still feel that it was such a life-changing trip.

In August, I went to trek with my friends in Daraitan, Taytay, Rizal. I conquered my first mountain — Mt. Samit — here, in the middle of monsoon rains! It was the most challenging trip I’ve ever done, and this is going to sound cliched, but I couldn’t have done it without my friends.

In October, I went to see my first “legit” festival — the MassKara Festival in Bacolod. A week later, during the semestral break, I went to Surigao del Norte and Siargao and saw the beautiful Sohoton Cove. And I learned how to surf!

Sadly, a trip to Camiguin was dropped at the last minute (no thanks to PAL Express, but that’s another story), so there were no trips for me this Christmas break, aside from a day in Enchanted Kingdom. But considering the fact that I’m smack dab in the middle of the Filipino middle class, that I have a permanent job that requires me to be energetic (read: busy) for the most part of the year, and that I had a thesis proposal to present (and I passed!), I sure did go places.

So what did I learn in 2013?

I learned independent travel. It sounds too late to say this as I turned 29 in 2013, but I only recently learned how to interact with strangers in a strange place when I’m alone. I learned how to trust them with my life, while at the same time keeping my wits about me. As a daily commuter in Metro Manila, I had learned to always be on the safe side of things; as an independent traveler, I learned to be open to experiences, even when alone.

I learned about money. I learned how much a thousand pesos is worth in other parts of the country and of Southeast Asia. I learned that I can steel myself from buying a piece of clothing because it could translate to two days in Chiang Mai (though to be sure, I did buy a lot of clothes this year…during sales). I got myself a credit card, and I learned how to use it wisely.

I learned that I can make my dreams come true. I wish I could say that all I needed was to take a deep breath and go, but it did take some planning and a lot of guts. And yes, a bit of money didn’t go amiss. But mostly, I just needed the guts.

I don’t think I’ll travel as much in 2014, especially in the summer months, as I have some things I have to take care of as an “adult”. However, I consider this as a year of saving up for grander travels to come. ;)

Related articles

• Surfing lessons in Siargao’s Cloud 9
• Diving in Apo Island
• A long day tour of Siquijor (part two), and more musings on solo travel
• A long day tour of Siquijor (part one), Cantabon Cave, and on traveling solo

The Ati-Atihan of Kalibo, Aklan advertises itself as the “mother of all Philippine festivals”. The name means “to be like the Ati”, the original settlers of Panay Island and much of the Philippines. Originally, it’s a festival that celebrates the cultures of the Ati and the eventual Malay lowland settlers. The Spaniards came, and somehow, the celebration came to be dedicated to Santo Niño, the child Jesus.

The events are held on the third week of January which coincides with the more popular Sinulog of Cebu. Of course, this doesn’t mean that the Ati-Atihan is less fun.

My colleague-friends and I went to Kalibo one weekend to experience a “legit” Philippine festival. This one is my second after MassKara last October. We were hosted by a co-teacher whose hometown is near Kalibo. This meant free accommodations — and the best home-cooked meals! Our city palates couldn’t get enough of fresh crab, oysters, and their specialty, hinubarang manok.

We were able to catch the street dancing on Saturday and Sunday. Some things of note: anybody in costume could be asked for a photo (we saw a little Captain America and an elder Darth Vader), there’s San Mig and Red Horse being sold everywhere alongside softdrinks and bottled water, and everyone just seemed happy to watch and even join in the parade — especially with the overcast sky and the slightly chilly weather even at high noon.

Now I realize that this festival would seem very offensive and racist to foreign eyes, and we also wondered whether the atis (who were also present) were offended by the depiction of their primitiveness. But talks of hybridity and syncreticism notwithstanding, it was really quite fun to watch.

The costumes were not as elaborate as the ones in the MassKara festival, and neither was the dancing as grand, but I found the Ati-Atihan to be quite more fun because the audience was actually participating. Yes, there were marshals who tried to keep us on the side, but eventually, no one cared if we went to the middle of the dancers for photo opportunities.

I also loved the fact that the drumbeats didn’t come out of sound systems but from the drums of the parade contestants themselves! It made the whole experience more authentic, I think.

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.

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. :)

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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.

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.

For a quick lesson on Sappho and lyric poetry, I asked my World Literature (third year high school) students to continue writing what may have been lost in the fragments of Sappho’s poetry. I chose four fragments for them to choose from, and from them my students created their own poems.

Below are some of the poems my students came up with. They’re really impressive, I must say! The original fragments are the wonderful translations of Anne Carson in If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho (Vintage, 2003).

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Fragment 24C

]
]we live
]
the opposite
]
daring
]
]
]

we live
in fear
the
opposite
of
daring
we cannot
truly be
alive
—John Cruz, JH

You and I
we live
in the opposite
ends of the
earth
daring to
defy all
who stood in
our way.
—Camila Sta. Ana, JI

We live
in a life
where
the opposite
can be as beautiful
and as daring
as the ones
that lived
in another.
—Sandra Sisik, JH

Now we live, but on the opposite
side, risky and daring, aiming
to find happiness.
—Bernice Santiago, JH

We live in colors bright and gray
in the opposite ways
both daring to share a lover’s gaze
—Emmanuel del Rosario, JI

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Fragment 147

someone will remember us
I say
even in another time

someone will remember us
I say
even in another time
our footsteps embedded on this land
our words written on paper
immortalized
          —Thea David, JI

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Fragment 38

you burn me

you burn me
heat tickles my skin
for a flame that burns this bright
is not meant to last
—Sofia Sabularse, JI

you burn me
oh dearly beloved
with your heated gaze
I must look away
—Camila Sta. Ana, JH

You burn me
Yet I still stay cold
To all the hell you’ve caused
For the heart you have burnt
Still longs for you with every ash
—Raine Buenvenida, JH

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Fragment 138

stand to face me beloved
and open out the grace of your eyes

stand to face me beloved and open
out the grace of your eyes, let loose
the lock on your lips, and let
the voice that the angels
themselves envy flow out to
soothe my restless soul.
—Paulo Hechanova, JH

This blog entry should have been written last June if not for the takeover of my teacher life…and perhaps, even though the narrative was already running in my head as I was experiencing it, I still needed to digest what the whole experience meant. Or maybe I just got really lazy. :)

In any case, the year is about to end and I’ve realized that I haven’t written about my favourite trip this year—the five days I spent alone in Dumaguete and in nearby Siquijor and Apo Island—and that I should do something about it before I start forgetting even more faces and moments.

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Five days in Dumaguete: My itinerary as it happened

1. Day 1: Flew to Dumaguete via Cebu Pacific
2. Checked in at Harolds Mansion
3. Went to the Twin Lakes in Sibulan
4. Visited the Anthropology Museum of Silliman University
5. Went downtown (Dumaguete Cathedral, plaza, Sans Rival, Rizal Boulevard)
6. Day 2: Took a ferry to Siquijor
7. Checked in at Villa Marmarine
8. Took a whole-day tour around Siquijor
9. Day 3: Took a ferry back to Dumaguete
10. Took a jeep to Zamboanguinita and a boat to Apo Island
11. Checked in at Mario’s Scuba Diving and Homestay
12. Dived at Chapel Reef
13. Day 4: Walked around Apo Island
14. Snorkeled around Chapel Reef
15. Went back to Dumaguete, checked back in at Harolds
16. Ate at Cafe Antonio
17. Hung out at Rizal Boulevard
18. Day 5: Flew back to Manila

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I bought my plane tickets to Dumaguete on a whim when a co-teacher told me that class resumption was going to be later than expected. That meant I had two more weeks between my Southeast Asia tour and the faculty in-service training. Even then I was already feeling that I needed to squeeze every bit of time I have left in my youth.

After Southeast Asia, I almost didn’t want to go; I started to get cold feet about traveling alone, and I probably had travel fatigue by that point. But I’d already booked my flights and lodgings and decided to go ahead.

I arrived early in the morning, and after walking a little ways from the Dumaguete airport, I got myself dropped off to Harolds Mansion Hostel. I found out later that this was an ideal place: it was near Silliman University and a few minutes’ walk to Rizal Boulevard, which faced the sea. Upon dropping off my bags, I went to the reception and asked about how to go to the twin lakes of Balinsasayao and Danao in Sibulan, and to Casaroro Falls in Valencia. I found out that Valencia was west of Dumaguete and Sibulan, north, and couldn’t possibly visit both on one day, so I decided on a whim to go to the lakes in Sibulan instead.

I had to go to the plaza and take a jeepney there to the town of Sibulan. From there, I had to take a habal-habal for a steep price of P300. I was to find out that it was for good reason, as the trip was 45 minutes long. I was holding on for dear life as the motorcycle traversed alternating paved and stony roads that wound left, right, up, down the mountains—and neither kuya nor I had a helmet. The trip seemed endless! I chatted with kuya to distract myself, but mostly I allowed myself to look at my lovely surroundings (except when there was a ravine beside us!).

Yet I felt my being alive on my very skin, knowing that this was a dangerous thing I was doing and I could fall off the motorcycle and, I don’t know, die. And yet I was doing it, really going through it, to see beauty that’s so hard to find nowadays.  I remember having an epiphany here: I really am a Sagittarian.

When we neared our destination, I breathed in the dewy scent of the forest—one of my favorite smells in the world. I paid the fees and finally got to the visitors’ area of the Balinsasayao Twin Lakes Natural Park. I was one of the three visitors that morning; a couple from Switzerland came moments after I did.

I had a quick brunch and chatted with the caretaker, Kuya Mark, before I went to walk the paved walkway to a view deck to see Lake Danao. When Kuya Mark said “paved”, I was relieved as I was wearing only slingback flip-flops and a dress. Surprise, surprise: owing to the rain the previous day, the ground was difficult to walk on, and I was so worried about slipping as I was alone. I was muttering words of encouragement to myself all the way.

About half an hour later, I made it to the viewing deck where I could see both Balinsasayao and Danao Lakes. I rested here, almost in disbelief at the blueness of the lakes.

As I headed back, I went closer to the shore a few times, washing my now-sweaty face and admiring the clear waters. Closer to the visitors’ center, locals washed their clothes. I, being geographically challenged, managed to lose the path and had to climb some rocks before I got back. It was good for photo opportunities though.

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I headed back to Dumaguete and spent a fair bit of time in Silliman University. It was a strange feeling, having been let in by the guard in a university without him asking me for my ID. I almost felt like a fugitive. I really wasn’t in Manila anymore.

There were students playing Frisbee on the field by the amphitheatre. I sat there to rest, gaze at the university chapel, and read a bit of Rosario Cruz-Lucero’s amazing La India, or Island of the Disappeared—aptly set in Negros. I also headed to the museum—the exhibit on the tools of the mambabarang was the one I found most interesting.

I then walked to the Church of St. Catherine of Alexandria, better known as the Dumaguete Cathedral, which of course was right across the town plaza.

Next was the famous Sans Rival (as recommended by a former student), where I had a plate of spaghetti and a sans rival. It was so good.

Then I went to Rizal Boulevard and people-watched as I took photos. I was rather late for sundown, but the evening breeze was refreshing enough.

After sunset, I went back to Harolds. I put in a bit of school-related work before I went to sleep.

Related articles

• Traveling solo in Dumaguete: a late blog post
• A long day tour of Siquijor (part one), Cantabon Cave, and on traveling solo
• A long day tour of Siquijor (part two), and more musings on solo travel
• Diving in Apo Island

Traveling alone, albeit only for five days, meant that I had people asking me—why? Why alone, especially as a single woman? My mother asked me if I was going through a crisis. (This, coming from an OFW in the Middle East.) My boyfriend wanted to tag along, to which I vehemently said no, I wanted to meet hot, tanned foreigners in board shorts (ha!). My friends were incredulous: “Wouldn’t that be lonely? Who’s going to take your pictures?!” When I was conversing with locals, it was always the follow-up question after “Who are you with?” It doesn’t help that the lonely Filipina traveler is few and far between. We’re a culture that puts premium on relationships with our families and barkadas, I think, and going to an unfamiliar place with no support is quite unheard of in many circles.

Well, there was no crisis, I certainly didn’t go looking for fellow lonely travelers, and yeah, I did feel lonely, but only for short bursts of time. I did it anyway—for experience, for all those years I squandered staying put in Manila because I didn’t have anyone to travel with, for a break after weeks of traveling with a group. But looking back, I think I was mostly testing my strength. Others are doing it for months at a time; why not I for only five days, and with internet access to boot?

Oh, and I didn’t tell my parents that I was also going to Siquijor, land of magic and sorcery and the mambabarangs and whatnot. I was sure this was going to get disapproved. (Sorry, Ma, if you’re reading this.) From friends I got admonitions that I shouldn’t pick up a rock and bring it home and that I should be extra nice to the people there. Okay, I’d said; anyway, I’m nice.

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These were in my thoughts as I waited for the ferry that would take me to Siquijor on my second day in Dumaguete. I’d had a quick carbo-loaded breakfast in Harolds Mansion before heading to the ferry terminal. I must have been feeling sleepy still as I misunderstood the directions of the ticket seller. If I had a friend with me, I thought, he’d probably laugh at me.

In any case, I boarded the rather empty ferry and was on my way to Siquijor by 9am on the Delta Fast craft (P125, plus P15 for the terminal fee). Over an hour later, I was in Siquijor, marveling at the clear waters and the wide, white sand beach of the port.

Someone from the local Department of Tourism noticed me (looking very much like a tourist acting nonchalantly, I bet), and I found myself asking him how to get to Villa Marmarine, where I’d booked a room. He then directed me to the office, immediately telling me that I could also avail of the various land tours via tricycle with the published rates posted outside.

There were three choices for me: I could take a coastal land tour on the Siquijor Circumferential Road for P1000, or a mountain tour, with the tricycle climbing Mt. Bandilaan in the center of the island for P1200. Or I could take a mountain tour and a land tour in one for P2000, which meant cutting across Siquijor island from north to south, and then going eastward on the coast, back to Villa Marmarine. Of course I chose the third option, which included my ride from the port to Villa Marmarine and back. (One downside of traveling alone: you don’t have anyone to split the fees with.)

After taking pictures of the Church of St. Francis of Assisi, just across the port, I had lunch in Villa Marmarine before heading for the tour. Admittedly, Villa Marmarine was my most expensive accommodation to date (P800 for a double room and P190 for meals), but I did like the ambiance. It’s in Brgy. Candanay Sur in Siquijor town, which means it’s near the port and is right in front of a gorgeous, powdery white beach (though strewn with leaves when I got there). The beach here remains shallow even if you’re meters away from the shore.

After lunch, I got back on the tricycle. We headed first to Cantabon Cave, where I was to go spelunking (guide fee: P500, entrance: P20). After several silent questions of “Why the hell am I doing this again?” I went ahead, armed with a helmet and helped by two guides.

After some minutes of slow, careful treading, bumping my (mercifully helmeted) head on the stalactites, and admiring the rocks illuminated by my guides’ flashlight, we came across a sign saying “Mini Swimming Pool”. My guides encouraged me to take a dip. It was very refreshing—and cold!

About an hour later, we got back aboveground. I’d done so many things in two days, alone, and I was looking forward for more.

Part One of my day tour of Siquijor can be found here.

My next pit stop after Cantabon Cave was a viewdeck on Mt. Bandilaan, where I had an expansive view of Siquijor.

Afterwards, we went south to the town of Lazi, where we first went to Cambugahay Falls. It has three tiers and light-blue waters, and to get there, I had to go down several stone steps. (Going back up the road was obviously a chore!) I was alone among locals and a family of foreigners, but I couldn’t resist a swim!

I asked to be dropped off to the San Isidro Labrador Parish in Lazi. I snapped a few pictures of it and the convent across—the whole complex is part of a tentative list to be included in the Baroque churches of the Philippines, an entry to the UNESCO World Heritage Sites.

The church was empty save for some kids practicing a song and dance number. Afternoon light spilled through the windows. I took a moment to thank God I was there safe.

Next stop was the century-old balete tree. It would’ve been slightly creepy if not for the people who sold snacks around (and asked me the now-usual questions of why I was alone). I gave a donation here for its upkeep.

I asked the driver to stop at Sta. Maria Church, or the Church of the Divine Providence. Compared to the church in Lazi, this one looked modest, though it’s also more than a century old. One can find here a statue of Santa Rita de Cascia  holding a skull. I missed it by a few minutes, though, because it was taken for a procession. Local folklore states that the statue herself goes around town on her own and would return to the church with feet stained with grass and dirt.

Next was a public beach: the Salagdoong Beach Resort (entrance fee: P30). Pretty, although it could do away with the trash littered by the visitors.

There were families and barkadas who were there already, swimming, barbecuing and drinking. I was met with stares—some of the men were staring too long, and I resisted the urge to stare back as per warnings of my friends from Manila. And suddenly, I was hit with a wave of loneliness. I remember thinking that if my barkada were with me, we’d be the funniest bunch there, and there’d be someone taking account of our expenses, keeping our money, chatting amiably with the locals, planning the next impromptu stop, taking pictures and videos, dancing for everyone’s entertainment, and singing with me in the tricycle.

I was really tired by this time that I didn’t even bother to get out of the tricycle to take pictures of the Cang-Isok House, the oldest standing house in Siquijor (still standing in spite of the recent typhoon), and the mangroves in the Tulapos Marine Sanctuary. Anyway, it was getting dark.

I got back to Villa Marmarine with a little daylight left for a quick dip. Then, I lay in a hammock by the sea while I read my book until it got too dark. I was tired, but my head was abuzz. I was wondering how I could still enjoy my little trip — and I did enjoy it, immensely — even though I missed my friends badly.

Here’s what I thought then and could better articulate now:

1. When I traveled alone, I was the master of my own time and itinerary. If I wanted to go spelunking, I would, without anyone hanging back due to worries regarding safety and expenses.
2. That said, every mistake was blamable only on myself.
3. When I traveled alone, I realized things about myself. I realized that I was, after all, shy (!!!); and I had to overcome my shyness to be able to talk to strangers instead of letting someone do it.
4. When I traveled alone, I learned trust. I put my life in the hands of total strangers and came out alive and exhilarated.
5. When I traveled alone, I had moments of total peace on a wide white beach, lying in a hammock, book in hand, the lazy sea waves the only sound I could hear.

Apo Island is a 30- to 45-minute boat ride from mainland Negros. It’s tiny, just about 12 hectares in area. Everyday there’s about three hours of electricity, from 6 to 9 in the evening. Rainwater is collected for everyday use, so sometimes, in the summer months, the homestays would have no water for you to use for bathing, and you’d have to go back to a hostel in Dumaguete to wash off the salt your body has accumulated.

Apo Island is also one of my favorite places in the Philippines. Surrounding it is a world-class coral reef with 400 coral species and 700 fish species. On the eastern side is a renowned community-managed marine sanctuary, which was unfortunately heavily damaged by the storm surges of Pablo and Sendong. However, the reefs on the western side of the island remain intact.

The friendly, accommodating people here make a living out of tourism and fishing. There’s no electricity, but there’s the sea breeze. And it’s so quiet. When you sleep in the dark at night, alone in your dorm room, with your mosquito net the only possible defense you could have against the tuko that seems so close it’s giving you goosebumps, you suddenly realize that there is no sound of motor vehicle or electrical appliance you’ve been desensitized to back in the city. The only sound you can hear is your breathing and the singing cicadas. And, of course, the tuko.

I’m in love with this place mainly because here’s where I went scuba diving for the first time.

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How to get to Apo Island from Dumaguete

1. Take a jeep (P20) or bus (Ceres, non aircon, P25) south to Zamboanguita
2. Ask the driver to drop you off at the Malatapay market
3. Walk for about five minutes to the beach
4. You can charter a boat (P2000 for a small boat) or wait for the public boat at around 1 PM (P300 per passenger)
5. Ride the boat for about 45 minutes
6. Once at the shore, pay the P100 visitor’s fee

Suggested Accommodation and Diving in Apo Island

Mario Scuba Diving and Homestay
Apo Island, Dauin
Negros Oriental 6217
09063617254 / 09196223671
marspascobello[at]hotmail[dot]com

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Coming from an early morning trip from Siquijor to Dumaguete, I asked around for a jeep to Zamboanguita. I asked the driver to drop me off at Malatapay. This effectively made other passengers ask me where I was going, what I was doing alone, etc. It was all good.

I made the stop at the Malatapay market. The stalls were closed as it wasn’t a Wednesday. Once I got near the shore, though, I found an eatery and the small tourism office, where I took a deep breath of courage and woke up a napping man to ask him about the public boat to Apo Island.

Since I arrived an hour and a half early for the next public boat, I went back to the eatery where I had my lunch of sinigang na bangus. I also chatted with a woman from whom I bought kakanin. It was a strangely nice conversation because I was speaking in Tagalog and she in Cebuano, and we could still understand each other.

Soon enough, by 1PM, I boarded the public boat with three other passengers and lots of vegetables. As it turned out, one of the passengers was actually a niece of Mario Pascobello, the proprietor of Mario’s Scuba Diving and Homestay — where I’d earlier booked a P300 bed in their dorm — so she helped me on my way.

It was a 45-minute trip, and when I got to the island, I paid the requisite P100 visitor’s fee and went to Mario’s. I was the only visitor then. I was shown to my room and was introduced to my diving instructors.

I’d booked an Introductory Diving lesson for P2500 — a very low rate comparative to others — which would teach me the basics of diving on shallow waters and would take me to nearby Chapel Point at a maximum depth of 12 meters.  As it turned out, there was still time in the afternoon to do this little activity.

I got into rented gear and was taught some exercises and hand signals on shallow waters before my diving instructors and I headed out to the sea. I saw a row of sea urchins that seemed to stand sentinel against us invaders of the reef. And as we swam onward, I saw the seabed transform from mere rocks and sand to a glorious, colorful world of corals and sea creatures.

I’d snorkeled in other reefs before, such as in San Juan, Batangas and in Boracay, but Chapel Reef was so vast and colorful. We went around walls of corals and I saw some tube and branching corals, and fishes like lionfish and sweetlips. I’d never been so close to the corals and fish before, and being right by them, instead of above them, was a wondrous and humbling perspective to be in.

Then, my diving instructors gave me the hand signal for “turtle”. I looked around and gave the littlest underwater scream: there was a sea turtle perched on a coral, with three cleaner wrasses on its back. Just a few moments later, they signaled to me again, and I had to look behind and above me to see a turtle swimming to the surface. It looked as if it were slowly flying to the sun above us all. I stared in awe. It was all so beautiful.

Time flew so fast and before I knew it, we were swimming back to the shore. Standing up again on solid ground reminded me of how heavy my oxygen tank and weights were. I dragged myself back to the world of humans. It was as though the sea had invisible hands pulling me back.

Back in Mario’s, I took a bath (mercifully, we had water — I was to find out later that another resort didn’t). Toward sundown, I took pictures of the rocky coast and watched as boats docked and a solitary dog went swimming. I’d spent two quiet sunsets by the beach by then.

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Dinner was spent with my diving instructors and an American who arrived later in the afternoon. I had tinolang manok. Brian, being vegetarian, had squash, and I felt bad about my carnivorous self.

Among others, we talked about traveling. He’s middle-aged and well-traveled, while I said I still had so many countries to go to.

“Fil, you’re young,” he said. “Just go and travel while you can!”

I wanted to point out the obvious disadvantage of us middle-class earners in a third-world country who want to go to, say, the US or Europe, as opposed to Americans and Europeans who come to very cheap Southeast Asia. But instead I said, chuckling, “I’d have to save up for a long time!”

“Here’s the thing, Fil,” Brian replied. “Don’t even think that you can’t do it. Just go there and everything will fall into place.”

I totally believed it then. Seven months later, I still want to believe it.

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The evening, as I’d said, had electricity from 6 to 9, and guess what I heard from the dorm room? Videoke. But of course. Badly-sung power ballads were my background music as I put in a bit of work before the power was shut off again and the world was plunged to darkness and quiet. As for me, I had an uneasy sleep. The gecko worried me.

I woke up early the next day to go around the village and look for breakfast, which took the form of a couple of bread (P20), coffee, and my leftover mineral water. I also asked around how to go to the lighthouse.

As I climbed, paved stones gave way to a dirt track along a field where a couple of cows grazed lazily.

I wanted to climb the old lighthouse so that I could get a view of Apo Island, but I was alone and was afraid I’d fall with no one knowing. I decided that I had one too many adventures already.

Afterward, I had a long chat with a woman who sold sarongs as souvenirs in the village. I’d bought one and she told me to sit for a while to talk. We talked about our youth; she talked about settling in Apo Island with her husband who lived there.

I went snorkeling afterward, alone, at a depth farther than when I’d dived the day before (we had to take a boat to the place), while the dive instructors took Brian diving. I spent much of my time chasing a nonchalant sea turtle and picking up plastic litter.

Later, toward noontime, I bid my goodbyes — to the people at Mario’s, the lady who sold sarongs, the woman who manned the tourism office. I took a very small motorboat that could take only one person other than the boatman.

I felt like I’d made so many friends already. I wondered when I was going to see them again.

Back to Malatapay, where I bought a banana cue from the woman who spoke to me in Cebuano. Back to Dumaguete via a non-aircon Ceres bus. Back to Mario’s, where I spent half of the afternoon sleeping.

Related articles

• Traveling solo in Dumaguete: a late blog post
• Diving in Apo Island

There’s only so much you can eat in an afternoon when you’re alone in a new city, so here I’m going to talk about just a couple of restaurants in Dumaguete.

I was immediately attracted to the quaint Spanish-style architecture of the  the Spanish Heritage Building, where Cafe Antonio’s is tucked away on its second floor. It may seem dark inside, but I thought it was pretty, with enough Old Filipino design and retro posters to keep me interested.

I tried their hickory glazed BBQ pork ribs and their cookies and cream “frothiccino”. The cold coffee you can do away with, but their ribs is quite divine.

After this already filling dinner, I went back to Sans Rival, where I had (you guessed it) sans rival that is totally sans rival, plus their famous silvanas. I reserved three boxes for me to bring home the next day, right before my flight back to Manila early in the morning.

Then it was time for sunset again on Rizal Boulevard, where I not-so-discreetly (and not-so-successfully) took pictures of people walking their dogs and buying balloons from vendors. Stalls selling kikiam and fishballs had started bringing out monobloc tables and chairs as a crew was setting up a stage for what seemed like a night of concert sponsored by a local beer.

As for me, it was one of the moments when I felt introverted; I went back to Harold’s Inn as soon as it got too dark, and started writing. And who knew? I finished writing my tale seven months later. :P

Related articles

• Traveling solo in Dumaguete: a late blog post
• A long day tour of Siquijor (part one), Cantabon Cave, and on traveling solo
• A long day tour of Siquijor (part two), and more musings on solo travel
• Diving in Apo Island

If 2012 was the year when I rediscovered this repressed wanderlust, then 2013 was when I pursued it.

I went to more places in a year than I did for a whole decade prior. I went on a road trip with my family and passed through Maguindanao, Cotabato, and Sultan Kudarat, eventually ending up in Lake Sebu. I went swimming with whale sharks in Donsol.

I went to Palawan and finally saw ethereal El Nido and the wonder that is the Underground River. I saw fireflies and bioluminescent plankton on Iwahig River. Not a week later, I finally went to Ilocos Norte and Vigan.

I went straight to Thailand. I went to crazy Bangkok and saw the ruins of Ayutthaya. Then I rode on an overnight train to Chiang Mai, perhaps my favorite city of the lot, and bathed some elephants there.

Then I went to Myanmar, a place with the nicest people and the most golden of all pagodas, and finally fulfilled my dream of seeing the sunrise in Bagan. I went to Malaysia afterward and hopped from Kuala Lumpur, to Melaka, to Penang, and back again to KL.

A week before work for the new school year started, I went touring Dumaguete, Siquijor, and Apo Island alone. I also went scuba diving for the first time, and I still feel that it was such a life-changing trip.

In August, I went to trek with my friends in Daraitan, Taytay, Rizal. I conquered my first mountain — Mt. Samit — here, in the middle of monsoon rains! It was the most challenging trip I’ve ever done, and this is going to sound cliched, but I couldn’t have done it without my friends.

In October, I went to see my first “legit” festival — the MassKara Festival in Bacolod. A week later, during the semestral break, I went to Surigao del Norte and Siargao and saw the beautiful Sohoton Cove. And I learned how to surf!

Sadly, a trip to Camiguin was dropped at the last minute (no thanks to PAL Express, but that’s another story), so there were no trips for me this Christmas break, aside from a day in Enchanted Kingdom. But considering the fact that I’m smack dab in the middle of the Filipino middle class, that I have a permanent job that requires me to be energetic (read: busy) for the most part of the year, and that I had a thesis proposal to present (and I passed!), I sure did go places.

So what did I learn in 2013?

I learned independent travel. It sounds too late to say this as I turned 29 in 2013, but I only recently learned how to interact with strangers in a strange place when I’m alone. I learned how to trust them with my life, while at the same time keeping my wits about me. As a daily commuter in Metro Manila, I had learned to always be on the safe side of things; as an independent traveler, I learned to be open to experiences, even when alone.

I learned about money. I learned how much a thousand pesos is worth in other parts of the country and of Southeast Asia. I learned that I can steel myself from buying a piece of clothing because it could translate to two days in Chiang Mai (though to be sure, I did buy a lot of clothes this year…during sales). I got myself a credit card, and I learned how to use it wisely.

I learned that I can make my dreams come true. I wish I could say that all I needed was to take a deep breath and go, but it did take some planning and a lot of guts. And yes, a bit of money didn’t go amiss. But mostly, I just needed the guts.

I don’t think I’ll travel as much in 2014, especially in the summer months, as I have some things I have to take care of as an “adult”. However, I consider this as a year of saving up for grander travels to come. ;)

Related articles

• Surfing lessons in Siargao’s Cloud 9
• Diving in Apo Island
• A long day tour of Siquijor (part two), and more musings on solo travel
• A long day tour of Siquijor (part one), Cantabon Cave, and on traveling solo

The Ati-Atihan of Kalibo, Aklan advertises itself as the “mother of all Philippine festivals”. The name means “to be like the Ati”, the original settlers of Panay Island and much of the Philippines. Originally, it’s a festival that celebrates the cultures of the Ati and the eventual Malay lowland settlers. The Spaniards came, and somehow, the celebration came to be dedicated to Santo Niño, the child Jesus.

The events are held on the third week of January which coincides with the more popular Sinulog of Cebu. Of course, this doesn’t mean that the Ati-Atihan is less fun.

My colleague-friends and I went to Kalibo one weekend to experience a “legit” Philippine festival. This one is my second after MassKara last October. We were hosted by a co-teacher whose hometown is near Kalibo. This meant free accommodations — and the best home-cooked meals! Our city palates couldn’t get enough of fresh crab, oysters, and their specialty, hinubarang manok.

We were able to catch the street dancing on Saturday and Sunday. Some things of note: anybody in costume could be asked for a photo (we saw a little Captain America and an elder Darth Vader), there’s San Mig and Red Horse being sold everywhere alongside softdrinks and bottled water, and everyone just seemed happy to watch and even join in the parade — especially with the overcast sky and the slightly chilly weather even at high noon.

Now I realize that this festival would seem very offensive and racist to foreign eyes, and we also wondered whether the atis (who were also present) were offended by the depiction of their primitiveness. But talks of hybridity and syncreticism notwithstanding, it was really quite fun to watch.

The costumes were not as elaborate as the ones in the MassKara festival, and neither was the dancing as grand, but I found the Ati-Atihan to be quite more fun because the audience was actually participating. Yes, there were marshals who tried to keep us on the side, but eventually, no one cared if we went to the middle of the dancers for photo opportunities.

I also loved the fact that the drumbeats didn’t come out of sound systems but from the drums of the parade contestants themselves! It made the whole experience more authentic, I think.

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.

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. :)

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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.

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.

For a quick lesson on Sappho and lyric poetry, I asked my World Literature (third year high school) students to continue writing what may have been lost in the fragments of Sappho’s poetry. I chose four fragments for them to choose from, and from them my students created their own poems.

Below are some of the poems my students came up with. They’re really impressive, I must say! The original fragments are the wonderful translations of Anne Carson in If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho (Vintage, 2003).

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Fragment 24C

]
]we live
]
the opposite
]
daring
]
]
]

we live
in fear
the
opposite
of
daring
we cannot
truly be
alive
—John Cruz, JH

You and I
we live
in the opposite
ends of the
earth
daring to
defy all
who stood in
our way.
—Camila Sta. Ana, JI

We live
in a life
where
the opposite
can be as beautiful
and as daring
as the ones
that lived
in another.
—Sandra Sisik, JH

Now we live, but on the opposite
side, risky and daring, aiming
to find happiness.
—Bernice Santiago, JH

We live in colors bright and gray
in the opposite ways
both daring to share a lover’s gaze
—Emmanuel del Rosario, JI

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Fragment 147

someone will remember us
I say
even in another time

someone will remember us
I say
even in another time
our footsteps embedded on this land
our words written on paper
immortalized
          —Thea David, JI

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Fragment 38

you burn me

you burn me
heat tickles my skin
for a flame that burns this bright
is not meant to last
—Sofia Sabularse, JI

you burn me
oh dearly beloved
with your heated gaze
I must look away
—Camila Sta. Ana, JH

You burn me
Yet I still stay cold
To all the hell you’ve caused
For the heart you have burnt
Still longs for you with every ash
—Raine Buenvenida, JH

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Fragment 138

stand to face me beloved
and open out the grace of your eyes

stand to face me beloved and open
out the grace of your eyes, let loose
the lock on your lips, and let
the voice that the angels
themselves envy flow out to
soothe my restless soul.
—Paulo Hechanova, JH

This blog entry should have been written last June if not for the takeover of my teacher life…and perhaps, even though the narrative was already running in my head as I was experiencing it, I still needed to digest what the whole experience meant. Or maybe I just got really lazy. :)

In any case, the year is about to end and I’ve realized that I haven’t written about my favourite trip this year—the five days I spent alone in Dumaguete and in nearby Siquijor and Apo Island—and that I should do something about it before I start forgetting even more faces and moments.

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Five days in Dumaguete: My itinerary as it happened

1. Day 1: Flew to Dumaguete via Cebu Pacific
2. Checked in at Harolds Mansion
3. Went to the Twin Lakes in Sibulan
4. Visited the Anthropology Museum of Silliman University
5. Went downtown (Dumaguete Cathedral, plaza, Sans Rival, Rizal Boulevard)
6. Day 2: Took a ferry to Siquijor
7. Checked in at Villa Marmarine
8. Took a whole-day tour around Siquijor
9. Day 3: Took a ferry back to Dumaguete
10. Took a jeep to Zamboanguinita and a boat to Apo Island
11. Checked in at Mario’s Scuba Diving and Homestay
12. Dived at Chapel Reef
13. Day 4: Walked around Apo Island
14. Snorkeled around Chapel Reef
15. Went back to Dumaguete, checked back in at Harolds
16. Ate at Cafe Antonio
17. Hung out at Rizal Boulevard
18. Day 5: Flew back to Manila

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I bought my plane tickets to Dumaguete on a whim when a co-teacher told me that class resumption was going to be later than expected. That meant I had two more weeks between my Southeast Asia tour and the faculty in-service training. Even then I was already feeling that I needed to squeeze every bit of time I have left in my youth.

After Southeast Asia, I almost didn’t want to go; I started to get cold feet about traveling alone, and I probably had travel fatigue by that point. But I’d already booked my flights and lodgings and decided to go ahead.

I arrived early in the morning, and after walking a little ways from the Dumaguete airport, I got myself dropped off to Harolds Mansion Hostel. I found out later that this was an ideal place: it was near Silliman University and a few minutes’ walk to Rizal Boulevard, which faced the sea. Upon dropping off my bags, I went to the reception and asked about how to go to the twin lakes of Balinsasayao and Danao in Sibulan, and to Casaroro Falls in Valencia. I found out that Valencia was west of Dumaguete and Sibulan, north, and couldn’t possibly visit both on one day, so I decided on a whim to go to the lakes in Sibulan instead.

I had to go to the plaza and take a jeepney there to the town of Sibulan. From there, I had to take a habal-habal for a steep price of P300. I was to find out that it was for good reason, as the trip was 45 minutes long. I was holding on for dear life as the motorcycle traversed alternating paved and stony roads that wound left, right, up, down the mountains—and neither kuya nor I had a helmet. The trip seemed endless! I chatted with kuya to distract myself, but mostly I allowed myself to look at my lovely surroundings (except when there was a ravine beside us!).

Yet I felt my being alive on my very skin, knowing that this was a dangerous thing I was doing and I could fall off the motorcycle and, I don’t know, die. And yet I was doing it, really going through it, to see beauty that’s so hard to find nowadays.  I remember having an epiphany here: I really am a Sagittarian.

When we neared our destination, I breathed in the dewy scent of the forest—one of my favorite smells in the world. I paid the fees and finally got to the visitors’ area of the Balinsasayao Twin Lakes Natural Park. I was one of the three visitors that morning; a couple from Switzerland came moments after I did.

I had a quick brunch and chatted with the caretaker, Kuya Mark, before I went to walk the paved walkway to a view deck to see Lake Danao. When Kuya Mark said “paved”, I was relieved as I was wearing only slingback flip-flops and a dress. Surprise, surprise: owing to the rain the previous day, the ground was difficult to walk on, and I was so worried about slipping as I was alone. I was muttering words of encouragement to myself all the way.

About half an hour later, I made it to the viewing deck where I could see both Balinsasayao and Danao Lakes. I rested here, almost in disbelief at the blueness of the lakes.

As I headed back, I went closer to the shore a few times, washing my now-sweaty face and admiring the clear waters. Closer to the visitors’ center, locals washed their clothes. I, being geographically challenged, managed to lose the path and had to climb some rocks before I got back. It was good for photo opportunities though.

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I headed back to Dumaguete and spent a fair bit of time in Silliman University. It was a strange feeling, having been let in by the guard in a university without him asking me for my ID. I almost felt like a fugitive. I really wasn’t in Manila anymore.

There were students playing Frisbee on the field by the amphitheatre. I sat there to rest, gaze at the university chapel, and read a bit of Rosario Cruz-Lucero’s amazing La India, or Island of the Disappeared—aptly set in Negros. I also headed to the museum—the exhibit on the tools of the mambabarang was the one I found most interesting.

I then walked to the Church of St. Catherine of Alexandria, better known as the Dumaguete Cathedral, which of course was right across the town plaza.

Next was the famous Sans Rival (as recommended by a former student), where I had a plate of spaghetti and a sans rival. It was so good.

Then I went to Rizal Boulevard and people-watched as I took photos. I was rather late for sundown, but the evening breeze was refreshing enough.

After sunset, I went back to Harolds. I put in a bit of school-related work before I went to sleep.

Related articles

• Traveling solo in Dumaguete: a late blog post
• A long day tour of Siquijor (part one), Cantabon Cave, and on traveling solo
• A long day tour of Siquijor (part two), and more musings on solo travel
• Diving in Apo Island

Traveling alone, albeit only for five days, meant that I had people asking me—why? Why alone, especially as a single woman? My mother asked me if I was going through a crisis. (This, coming from an OFW in the Middle East.) My boyfriend wanted to tag along, to which I vehemently said no, I wanted to meet hot, tanned foreigners in board shorts (ha!). My friends were incredulous: “Wouldn’t that be lonely? Who’s going to take your pictures?!” When I was conversing with locals, it was always the follow-up question after “Who are you with?” It doesn’t help that the lonely Filipina traveler is few and far between. We’re a culture that puts premium on relationships with our families and barkadas, I think, and going to an unfamiliar place with no support is quite unheard of in many circles.

Well, there was no crisis, I certainly didn’t go looking for fellow lonely travelers, and yeah, I did feel lonely, but only for short bursts of time. I did it anyway—for experience, for all those years I squandered staying put in Manila because I didn’t have anyone to travel with, for a break after weeks of traveling with a group. But looking back, I think I was mostly testing my strength. Others are doing it for months at a time; why not I for only five days, and with internet access to boot?

Oh, and I didn’t tell my parents that I was also going to Siquijor, land of magic and sorcery and the mambabarangs and whatnot. I was sure this was going to get disapproved. (Sorry, Ma, if you’re reading this.) From friends I got admonitions that I shouldn’t pick up a rock and bring it home and that I should be extra nice to the people there. Okay, I’d said; anyway, I’m nice.

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These were in my thoughts as I waited for the ferry that would take me to Siquijor on my second day in Dumaguete. I’d had a quick carbo-loaded breakfast in Harolds Mansion before heading to the ferry terminal. I must have been feeling sleepy still as I misunderstood the directions of the ticket seller. If I had a friend with me, I thought, he’d probably laugh at me.

In any case, I boarded the rather empty ferry and was on my way to Siquijor by 9am on the Delta Fast craft (P125, plus P15 for the terminal fee). Over an hour later, I was in Siquijor, marveling at the clear waters and the wide, white sand beach of the port.

Someone from the local Department of Tourism noticed me (looking very much like a tourist acting nonchalantly, I bet), and I found myself asking him how to get to Villa Marmarine, where I’d booked a room. He then directed me to the office, immediately telling me that I could also avail of the various land tours via tricycle with the published rates posted outside.

There were three choices for me: I could take a coastal land tour on the Siquijor Circumferential Road for P1000, or a mountain tour, with the tricycle climbing Mt. Bandilaan in the center of the island for P1200. Or I could take a mountain tour and a land tour in one for P2000, which meant cutting across Siquijor island from north to south, and then going eastward on the coast, back to Villa Marmarine. Of course I chose the third option, which included my ride from the port to Villa Marmarine and back. (One downside of traveling alone: you don’t have anyone to split the fees with.)

After taking pictures of the Church of St. Francis of Assisi, just across the port, I had lunch in Villa Marmarine before heading for the tour. Admittedly, Villa Marmarine was my most expensive accommodation to date (P800 for a double room and P190 for meals), but I did like the ambiance. It’s in Brgy. Candanay Sur in Siquijor town, which means it’s near the port and is right in front of a gorgeous, powdery white beach (though strewn with leaves when I got there). The beach here remains shallow even if you’re meters away from the shore.

After lunch, I got back on the tricycle. We headed first to Cantabon Cave, where I was to go spelunking (guide fee: P500, entrance: P20). After several silent questions of “Why the hell am I doing this again?” I went ahead, armed with a helmet and helped by two guides.

After some minutes of slow, careful treading, bumping my (mercifully helmeted) head on the stalactites, and admiring the rocks illuminated by my guides’ flashlight, we came across a sign saying “Mini Swimming Pool”. My guides encouraged me to take a dip. It was very refreshing—and cold!

About an hour later, we got back aboveground. I’d done so many things in two days, alone, and I was looking forward for more.