Hidden Stories of Siquijor – (SIQUIJOR, The Mystic Island, Philippines ) by: rhum sellers, thehutownerblog
Land of witchcraft, sorcery, occultism, vodooism, exorcism, etc. are just some of the words that used to describe Siquijor island. True or not, these unfavorable representation of this place makes it more challenging than threatening to pay a visit to this amazing island in Central Visayas.
From Dumaguete City a ferry awaits visitors bound for the island known to most people as a mystic island. Thoughts of morbid stories about witches, sorcerers, people vomiting worms, cockroaches, and lizards, defecations of tree barks nails, and other inexplicable, mysterious and mystifying folklore came into my mind while I was on the ferry.
Disembarking from the ferry was a hodgepodge of emotions as I felt the rush of excitement and apprehension all over me. Believe me or not, a man with eyes so big and bulging as if jumping out of its sockets, walked me out from the premises of the port up to his tricycle and made an arrangement to drive me to a motel or a cheap lodging house where I could stay for the duration of my visit. He was forcing a setup not acceptable to me. Besides, I was scared by his looks. When he took his focus away from me I hurriedly departed and got away in another tricycle and sped off.
Acting like a straggler more than a tourist, we ( my guide/driver and me ) priced hop for a room to stay. Having chosen one near the beachfront for a modest price was a citation well deserved. And the prize…I was always the first human to make a stroll, run, and sight see the beach’s early morning golden sun rise. The first one to play hide and seek with an army of purple crustaceans and the first one to be barked by some unfriendly dogs that strayed along the shoreline for their morning excretion of the day’s accumulation of whatever they have eaten and digested which they considered as food.
Those black sea orchins didn’t have the opportunity to hide themselves from my preying eyes. Owning blue tips on their spines and moving back and fort, they looked like legged Christmas lanterns on parade. I had some speculative thoughts if the orchin population area was considered as a marine sanctuary because not far away was a signboard that says that it is so. Furthermore, it said that fishermen were forbidden to catch fish in the said area and a penalty was imposed on whoever is caught not following the order. This was to revive marine lives which had been depleted due to over fishing.
I had one observation that drew me a conclusive support of my findings that Siquijor’s white sands are finer than that of Boracay, Samal, and Panglao islands. Siquijor’s sands turn to dusts when it dries up. It’s just a little bit coarser than a baby powder but almost feel like milk powder.
Town hopping by motorcycle was an exciting experience. To be immersed into the Spanish style of church building was an architecture worth seeing and feeling the olden churches’ fashion. These aged structures transported me back in time. The churches of Siquijor, Lazi, Larena and Maria were build between the years 1700 – 1850. They were made of limestone rocks and fashioned like garrisons as protection from pirates who attacked the towns. Some have wooden floors, wooden roof supports and rusty roofings that needs immediate rehabilitation.
San Isidro Labrador church. Lazi, Siquijor
San Isidro Labrador Convent, Lazi, Siquijor
Wooden floor of San Isidro Labrador church, Lazi, Siquijor
Interior of San Isidro Labrador church, Lazi, Siquijor
Nuestra Sra. de Providencia, Maria, Siquijor
Interior of of Nuestra Sra. de Providencia church, Maria, Siquijor
St. Francis of Assisi church, Siquijor, Siquijor
Interior of St. Francis of Assisi church, Siquijor, Siquijor
Bell Tower of St. Francis of Assisi church, Siquijor, Siquijor
A two-tiered Cambugahay Falls was a sight worth your effort. Salagdoong, Dondeezco, and Marmarine white sands beach resorts, caves and mangroves will add to your excitement while here in the island. You could dine at Triad restaurant on top of a hill in Larena and view the town proper.
Cambugahay Falls
Salagdoong beach resort
Salagdoong beach resort
Triad Restaurant, Siquijor
Triad Restaurant
Century old Balete tree
Dondeezco beach resort
As the folklore began to creep into my mind, an inclusion of something weird to complete my itinerary and visit was obviously brewing. What if I’ll see a “mangbabarang”. I was thinking that would be fun if I did. So, off we sped for some devillish idea.
My guide told me that he knew someone who does that kind of acts. Passing thru kilometers of rickety paths, downhill and uphill, zigzagging our way to a semi concrete house was something scary as we arrived on the twilight hours of the day. The dark was fast wrapping the golden rays of the setting sun. In a few hours darkness will rule our way back. I was expecting that the place where we were was some kind of witchy, but it was not. Although that was the only house I saw standing on a high ground, there was a piggery nearby with a sow and some piglets that continued to make sounds that further made some palpitation and “heartquake” in me. My guide called her name and she went out just a feet from the door. I was a little bit surprised that she knew my purpose of coming to her place. She called me into the house and straight into her room I slowly tiptoed for a sneak. “Come in”, the voice said. “Don’t be afraid”, the voice continued as my head was already halfway inside the room. I turned my head left and right just to be sure she was there. Really, I was scared. If I heared only her voice and she wasn’t there, I would run outside and together with my guide, we’ll return back. But I saw the Sto. Nino image with unlighted candles so, I was a little bit relieved. She lighted the candles as she instructed me to take my shirt off. “Oh my God”, I said to myself. “She’s going to rape me”, my mind continued scaring me. As soon as I put my shirt on my lap she began to say some prayers and some “oracion” while putting her palm on my head. That might be in Latin language. I didn’t understand a word. Then she asked when was the last time I saw my doctor. “What was his advice?”. Before I could deliver an answer to her inquisitive approach she replied with certainty, saying, “So, it was an artery blockage of the heart”. I was surprisingly perturbed by what she said. It puzzled me no end.
She recommended some heated “buyo” leaves to be patched on the chest for a week and some “calachuchi” flower soak in a glass of water for six hours in an open air overnight. The solution of which should be taken three times a day also for a week. The “calachuchi” solution will expand the veins of the heart while the “buyo” leaves would act as pain reliever. That was her explanation. I’ve done it for two days but I’ve stop doing it for there was scarcity of “buyo” when I got back to Manila. So, we ended with an herbalist not a “mangbabarang”.
The Herbalist, mistakenly tag as “mangbabarang”.
Do I still looked scared?
My last day was a “reveal” day. A “despidida” was celebrated in my honor by the owner of the place I was staying. Over some bottles of beer, our conversation went onto how mystic Siquijor was or is it? He has his own hair raising story about the Acacia tree in their backyard that refuses to die. The tree was cut at the trunk to make sure of its death. They discontinued chopping the tree down for they heard cries. Every time they cut it, cries reverberated from sources they don’t know where. Every time an axe was dug at its trunk a baby’s cry was heard. They repeated and repeated the cutting on different occasions but the same thing happened. A baby’s cry in pain was always heard. For fear that some spirits or other supernatural beings would retaliate for their action, they dismissed downing the Acacia tree.
This is the Acacia tree that refused to die. Take note of the “axed” trunk.
He continued telling unbelievable stories but this one was a set back for Siquijor. Years back, there was a plan to build an airport on the island. Tractors and other big machineries needed for the project were shipped in preparation for the project to start. Leveling the place was a machines’ job. They were the front liners of every first stage leveling tasks. The project was ready for a jump off. Laborers were ready. Machines started to grind when suddenly all of them just stopped for no reasons. Laborers and drivers of the machines could not tell what caused the breakdown. They simply just malfunctioned for unknown reasons even how hard they tried to fix them. Mechanics were brought in to fix them but failed. Every time a malfunctioned machine was exchanged with a newly repaired one it got damaged. A cycle was formed in the process. Due to this unexplainable occurrence, the plan was shelved and discontinued.
Appreciating the natural beauty of Siquijor and mingling with its gentle people would negate what believers and performers of black magic, witcheries and other acts of enticement, allurement, enchantment, or bewitchment have implanted to people’s minds. True or not, it’s yours to discover. Visit Siquijor and be immersed in the youthfulness of the natural beauty of the island and swim in the richness of the old day’s folklore.
—o0o—
“TO TRIUMPH” by : rhum sellers
We come to You after a mile walk
We didn’t ask for words but You talk
We didn’t have to think but You read the thought
We didn’t even raised our voice but You fought
We come to You for You could make a stand
To bless us and all Men in this Holy land
We didn’t even tell we’ve sinned but You forgave
We ask You Lord, for us to be saved
We didn’t even wish for gold but You shared
Now we come to thank You ’cause You cared
We come to You and together we prayed
For the earthly sins that we have made
We didn’t even hope for some eternal graces
But You bestowed on us those tender aces
As we come to You nearer and holier
Our lives’ then, befits a sinner
Have Mercy on us Your children, we ask
Please don’t give us another dying task
We are not sure of what the future would do
To follow the distorted way, and make a rescue
Please don’t let our spirit hopelessly tear us apart
To tread the mutilated, warped and twisted thorny path
But we know you’ll light the candles and walk with us
To brave the storms and lightning, uncertain of the tasks
So we’re here in search for quick and easy solutions
To untangle the knot and straighten unfit dispositions
Expansion of vision didn’t bring us to right conclusions
So give strength in us, we’ll fight with Your given solutions
So now we come to You and beg
For our strength in faith and strength in our legs
To carry on with noble toughness and holy might
And bring victory and honor with a gallant fight
Now bless us, our fight to carry on
To show to the devil we could fight on and on
‘Till darkness will vanish and disappear all along
We will not fear to triumph against an evil throne.
Amen.
—o0o—
“Visiting Guimaras for the Third Time” – The Germans and the Monkeys of Nagarao
The view from the restaurant of Villa Igang Resort…
I could not have stayed in this place if not for the fully booked status of the nearby resorts, Raymen and Alubihod. “This is it, this is the place I’ve been wanting to stay”, I said to myself as I entered the area. An expanse of nature carefully being developed, was an experience to be followed how the development goes enhancing the place without destroying the habitat of every living animals that thrive in the area.
Mangroves are still young as it was planted on the sides of the rock enforced roadway. White painted railings and bridges strike the eyes firsthand when your sight is focused on the green rocky hills that sprouted from the sprawling ponds. They are actually islets on shallow waters not deep enough to be called as sea or ocean. They are wide stretches of shallow portions of waters with muddy bed and divided into ponds with a combination of rocks, mud, sand and gravel that serve as an amalgam dividers. Small fishes abound as the mangroves serve as its nesting place with sea water coming in and meets other water resources. The hill’s bases are built with roads lined with railings. It is further enhanced by the addition of dove population making it more lively.
Uphill rocky portions were built with cottages and rooms for visitors to stay overnight and those who want longer visits. There are camp sites for group tours. A new swimming pool is being built to compliment the existing one at the top of a hill.
This bamboo bridge cuts thru mangroves population in Villa Igang
Resort’s property.
The beach’s length is rather small and can handle only small batches of swimmers at the same time. At the right side of Villa Igang arch’s entrance, there’s a road leading to Villa Corazon resort which is larger than Villa Igang’s beach front and more picturesque. It faces an unobtrusive horizon of the sea. Big rocks protruding into the waters were built with concrete railings that add beauty and class to the scene. Villa Corazon looks private due to its lonely ambiance but serenity is the price for not attracting a multitude of beach combers. This is an alluring setting for “honey-mooners” who seek charming and tranquil places to spend their after-church extravaganza. At the left side of the entrance arch, the Bamboo Bridge extends deep into the mangrove’s territory not knowing its boundary limits which extends where your eyes set the horizon.
Villa Corazon Beach Resort…
Negligible changes were seen as I travelled on a motorcycle on a sunny day. Two years is a short span of time to really spot great and imposing changes of sceneries. There were a few structures built, new road networks, and other noticeable improvements.
What is worth mentioning is the sweetness of Guimaras mangoes which was off season. I can handle three whole pieces of ripened mangoes then. But this season, I can’t believe it, I’ve eaten six. That means twelve halves of sliced ripe sweet mangoes eaten after lunch.
Before I headed for home, there was still plenty of time to spend for an island hop. My guide took me to Nagarao island. I was bitten by his sweet talk about it. What he was saying was way, way back. Years and years way back then when it was still booming with German visitors. What he told me: Nagarao island was bought at a very low price by a German national. After several years of staying in the island, he decided to sell it to a fellow German at triple the original price. This German, Martin, married an Ilonga and bore three handsome sons and are now in Germany. Martin invited fellow German friends to invest in the island encouraging them to send money for the construction of individual homes so that when they come to visit the island they have their own homes to stay in. When his German friends arrived in droves they stayed in their individually built homes and stayed long in Nagarao. They always enjoyed sun bathing naked. And the longer they stayed, the wider the personal gap Martin was creating between them. He was finding unreasonable faults against his friends that drove them away and leave the island for home. Leaving their houses in disgust meant they ceased ownership and eventually made Martin to own the units illegally. His German friends did not return up to this day. But there was one German who didn’t leave the island. He became sick and his parents sent money for his hospitalization thru Martin. He pulled him out from the hospital and brought him back to Nagarao. The German’s parents continued sending money thru Martin thinking their son was still in the hospital. The truth was Martin acted as the doctor without any knowledge of the field and his friend’s sickness. The German became very ill and, as stories circulated, amputated the legs, died, and was buried in the island. Martin became rich, developed the island extensively and became famous as a tourist destination. Mismanagement brought the resort down. Martin and wife separated and the resort was divided among his three children. He left the island and got another wife in Negros and had three children studying in his homeland.
this is what’s left of Nagarao…. empty German houses…
…empty unkept beach…
…even its wharf had left
a sad story of the years that had become the jump off point of the island’s forgotten memories…
During Nagarao’s heydays, it was populated by monkeys that were hard to domesticate. They bite people and even Martin didn’t escape the wild nature of monkeys that he decided to catch all of them and transferred to a nearby island. Those monkeys behaved like harvesters of coconut that the entire island lost a considerable harvest intended for sale. The monkey population didn’t elude the anger of coconut farmers so they finalized a decision to shoot and kill all the monkeys in the island leaving behind a zero count of the tree climbing animals.
A portion of the island is up for sale at Php 2.8M with an area of 4,000 sq. m. Nagarao island is 20 – 30 minutes away from mainland Guimaras by motorized banca.
We headed for Buenavista wharf for my departure for Iloilo. I stayed for awhile outside to look for a long lost friend I’ve met two years ago. Just making use of the chance if I could find him. The combing was in vain.
Spending New Year’s eve in a resort was a favorable and quiet experience away from the deafening sounds of firecrackers and lung-wrecker gun powder smoke.
–0o0–
rhum sellers
“The Lonely Seat”
the seat was bare and empty
no busy souls dared to occupy
the row was a little far and lonely
“I don’t want it”, said the little guy
the hours, minutes, and the seconds keep
beating and ticking, I came from a shallow sleep
hurry, if nobody wanted that lone little seat
reserve, for me, hoping there’s no lice beneath
that vacant seat no one had it so envious
now, there was one, the value was so precious
then, nobody wanted it for comfort
now, everyone needed it for sort
no one appreciated the value it’s worth
’till the need was up, the little use was work
no use in one’s little eyes, consider it gaudy
’till I sit my tired and frail human body
regained, a little strength, after I rested
time to stand, say goodbye for having me seated
now I’ll leave you and again you’ll be lonely
serve anybody, a hero in your humble capacity.
“the lonely ugly seat”
-rhumsellers-
“I Spent My Holy Week in Abu Infested Basilan”
https://thehutownerblog.wordpress.com/2015/04/28/they-stopped-us-they-thought-i-was-a-spy/
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Disembarking from the ship from Bongao, Tawi-Tawi I happened to pass by the ticket office of ferries going to Basilan, a terrorist’s lair. It was a Holy Thursday so ferries were few with a handful of passengers making a short queue to buy tickets for the island. A bit nervous to scour and sail the sea, I have to be stouthearted just to be there and spend a week to observe how it was like in Abu Sayyaf infested Basilan during the Holy Week.
It was already 11 a.m. when passengers and I boarded the large wooden motorized boat. The aerodynamically designed boat was long but without a balance on both sides. We were already in the middle of the sea when I saw two speeding gray gunboats approaching at our direction. I was not sure if they were Philippine boats because the flag looked like Malaysian. I estimated the distance of the first one to be a kilometer away from us and the second was just about a hundred meters. They were travelling so fast parallel to our route. The gunboat’s speed accumulated a big mass of water ready to hammer our boat. True enough, the silent, swelling and bulging waves surged to our path and rammed its force directly on the right side of our boat which shook heavily. The shaking didn’t stop immediately. Passengers were shouting as they fell out from their seats leaving me alone seated for I held tightly on the window pane. “This is the end of my trip”, I quipped. Children were crying while holding unto their parent’s hands.
I thought the boat would capsize and eventually sink. But our navigator was alert enough to put off the engine. After a few minutes of floating and drifting aimlessly, the boat gained balance again as we made way to the island.
This is the gun boat that caused our wooden motor boat to nearly sink in the middle of the sea off Zamboanga and Basilan..
This is a similar wooden boat I boarded in going to Basilan from Zamboanga… (This is at the Port Of Maluso, Basilan)
Houses on stilts were visible as we approached the waterway of Isabela, Basilan’s capital city where an unfinished lighthouse stands as if greeting its visitors from other places. At that time, the ebb tide made it hard for the passengers to disembark and unload the boat.
Houses on stilts at the waterway’s entrance…
The unfinished lighthouse…
Catching sight of a famous fast-food chain was a relief for my protesting stomach. The strain in following it became a pressure embraced by nervousness due to the presence of so many Marine soldiers at the plaza. Police were at every corner of the streets. The whole scene looked like there was a military uprising where the plaza became a war zone of sort. I didn’t know that Marines were on high alert status in this area.
The cathedral nearby was also watched by Marines and truckloads of soldiers were dropped at strategic city streets. They were heavily armed and ready to fire their weapons whenever an Abu Sayyaf group attacks the city any time of the day.
Sta. Isabel Cathedral in Isabela, Basilan…
In the morning of Good Friday, I visited the Sta. Isabel Cathedral right across the plaza, two blocks away from Sofia Hotel where I stayed. A lot of Catholics in the capital braved the rebels’ threat of aggression as evidently shown by the overflowing presence of devotees at the side entrance. Marine soldiers’ visibility near the altar was a manifestation of how dangerous it was even in the house of God. Even ATM machines have Marines on guard.
After my Visita Iglesia at the cathedral, I hanged out at the plaza and happened to know a Muslim woman who works at the Provincial Capitol of Basilan. She told me that a 10 o’ clock curfew was imposed in the city because of threats coming from the rebels. In fact, a human head on a bamboo pole was displayed at the plaza the morning after a grenade exploded one night.
For an hour, our conversation flowed smoothly and ended offering her trike that I could use to go around the city and the outlying areas. Without hesitation, I grabbed the offer with her two sons as my guide and driver. The next day we left Isabela city and headed to Lamitan District Hospital in Lamitan city, the place that once shared the headlines because it was used as a hiding place of the kidnappers. With their victims in their hands they were pursued by the military and slipped from the pursuit operation. A nurse showed me the room the rebels occupied. I also visited the Lamitan Catholic Church which was bombed by soldiers because the rebels hid inside. Now it has a beautiful interior after it was rebuilt and refurbished. Lamitan is also proud of its beautiful city hall building.
Lamitan City District Hospital
Knights of Columbus, Lamitan city, Basilan
Lamitan City Hall
Several checkpoints spaced every three or more kilometers dotted the road. As we came nearer to the town of Maluso, the place where Ces Drilon and other reporters were abducted years ago, sand bunkers by the roadside were strategically erected with government soldiers positioned.
Every minute was a heart-stopping suspenseful journey like a post-war Iraq. I was always waiting to be kidnapped on the road.
At the checkpoint in front of a Marine’s barracks, I took some photos of the building where the soldiers stay not knowing that they would suspect me as a spy for the Abu Sayyaf. My driver told me to delete what I have just photographed while he drove past the two manning soldiers. We were stopped at the other end of the checkpoint fifty meters away. The soldier let me scanned my digital camera. Failing to see any suspicious shots that would endanger their safety, they let us go.
I heeded my guide’s request to backout from proceeding to Tipo-Tipo and Sumisip towns as there were groups of rebels roaming around those areas.
On the way back to my hotel, we passed on lonely roads and bridges. Not a single human being was seen walking on the road. It looked deserted. We stopped at a ravine where victims of ambuscades where thrown into just like dead animals.
Perhaps, hundreds of dead bodies have been hurled into the ravine and souls were searching for earthly figures to reincarnate and continue their interrupted lives.
Before I returned to my hotel, I passed by the market and I’ve finally concluded that Isabela is a progressive city. Judging from the marketplace, it was very clean and orderly and sells almost everything from clothes to construction materials, from kitchen wares to food products, from fish to detergents, etc. Passing by the Basilan Provincial Capitol Building was a pride every Basilanon felt as it is Muslim inspired. Just nearby is the Sta. Isabel Cathedral and adjacent to it is a Jollibee branch. See, business thrive in this diverse meeting of cultures. Before, my idea of Basilan was a land of war where Catholics and Muslims fight. But after the visit I discovered some tourist attractions where, sad to say, I felt I was the lone tourist in this island. But after awhile these discoveries of waterfalls, white sand beaches, rubber plantations, beautiful resorts, etc. changed my perception. It has its own share of greens making it a precious gem to be owned by anyone who wishes to unmask Basilan and experience what it has to offer. Asala malay cum!
This is Basilan..
To prove that I’ve been to a “war zone” island..
Washing hands on a brook in Basilan…
At Farmland Resort, Basilan…
Inside one of the stilt houses…
Tree house, Farmland resort, Basilan
With Muslim students…I was advised not to pose very closely with females..
Busay Falls, Basilan … nearly dried out
The ravine where ambuscades victims were thrown into…
white sand beach in Basilan during low tide
Inside the Provincial Capitol…
At Menzi rubber plantation…
The muslim “Kumpit” as it overtakes us
“Chinese Filipino” cemetery, Basilan
https://thehutownerblog.wordpress.com/2015/04/28/they-stopped-us-they-thought-i-was-a-spy/
–oOo–
“Philippines’ Last Frontier”
PALAWAN, the country’s last frontier has earned a lot of acclamations for its next-to-paradise grandeur. Numerous write-ups and pictures about the province describe it as the “Eden of the New Age”. With these information at hand, I became enthusiastic discovering the truth myself.
An unplanned travel was realized despite the heavy rains. My interest and desire did not diminish as I form visions of picturesque Palawan while awaiting for my plane to land.
Being new in the place, I started to gather information that would make up my itinerary. Resort leaflets from the airport information center were voluminous. Words from tricycle drivers, front desk officers, waiters, waitresses, and security guards helped me sourced my sought after materials needed for the trek. Then I looked for a cheap place to fill-up my near-empty stomach which folded my wings a little. After consuming a hearty and delectable divine meal, my late dinner in Puerto Princesa gained me new strength.
It was still raining the next morning but I continued to follow my itinerary. I visited the Crocodile Farm which gave me a little learning about them. They are kept in their respective cages according to age.
Souvenir shops outside Crocodile Farm in Palawan
At Tagabinet, portions of Cleopatra’s Needle are amazingly stately and majestic.The clouds hovering near its peak create a portrait that can be compared to the famous and lovely Swiss Alps. I won’t get tired watching its breathtaking contours for hours, days or even weeks.
We headed off to my real destination, the Sabang Beach, which is a three to four hours drive from the city. It is the jump-off point to the underground River.
The weather must have really played against me. Rain kept on pouring and the sea was very rough for sailing. Small boat operators canceled the day’s tour. It’s a pity that I will not be able to visit the provisional winner of the New 7 Wonders of Nature, The Underground River. So I stayed in the resort and, suffice it to say, that Sabang beach is a galore of pleasure and recreation. The beach itself was a statement of tranquility and modernity. Street lights are powered by solar and wind energies.
I decided to go to Port Barton to further explore Palawan. On our way, we stopped at a roadside restaurant for a late lunch. I managed to fill up my stomach with dried squid, dried danggit and rice. My driver and guide had wild boar adobo, wild chicken tinola, grilled wild lizard and rice. What a wild choice of menu?
After our meals, we went westward passing through the 22 kilometer stretch of unpaved road which at times caught us plunging in deep mud causing delay in our movement. For several times, the whole tricycle was like a loose material that could easily fit in the crater-like size of potholes. And if we’re not lucky enough, we push the tricycle out of the knee-deep mud. After 3 hours of travelling and jostling out the trike from giant road cavities, there was total darkness in the mountain and amid the moonless night, I was able to conceal my trepidation. My fear was momentarily dismissed when fireflies came flying by doing their own circus show. “Wireless Christmas lights” at its best. But in that moment as well, with the help of the trike’s lights, I saw a snake with its teeth deeply dug on a rat. This scene made me more fearsome of the darkness in the wilderness. Finally, we arrived at Deep Gold Resort. Dead tired, I readily succumbed to the sounds of the rolling waves despite the cold evening sea breeze.
Deep Gold beach resort at Port Barton, the cleanest beach front I’ve seen so far…
Deep Gold beach resort, Port Barton
Sabang beach
Resized and elongated jeep that ply the Sabang – Puerto Princesa route
Motorized bancas wait for their turn for the Underground river cruise..
Single basketball court at the wharf off Sabang
On the next day as I prepared myself for the waterfalls trip, I was dismayed by the news that the trek was canceled due to heavy rains. Drooped in my room, I was hooked-up on a foot long lizard chased away by a squirrel. Running up and down the wooden plank, these two animals got lost from my sight. Not far away, a heron was being driven away by a dog under a torrential downpour. These two drama-filled episodes served as “fill-ins” in my quest for adventure in an aborted waterfalls trek.
—o0o—
https://thehutownerblog.wordpress.com/2015/05/07/iwahig-penal-colony-palawan-philippines/
“Camotes Revisited”
Visiting a place for the second time will hatch comparison of visits, my first against my second. If my first visit had sparked wows and oohhs, had tickled my enthusiasm and excitement, I thought my second visit would display a lesser degree of elation. But I was negated of what my sight would discover upon seeing Camotes the second time around. It surpassed my expectation as scenes laid before my eyes brought sparkle and inner happiness that glitters like gems of carat unmeasurable.
Mangodlong Rock Beach Resort
Typhoon Yolanda left Camotes with little damage to properties and nature. Several houses were destroyed totally while some just partially, particularly the roofs that were blown off. A number of fallen coconut trees blocked our path to Busay Falls.
Fallen trees left by Yolanda…
My second visit was a confirmation that people of Camotes are really kind, sincere, accommodating and friendly. That proved my first impression and observation right.
Here are other places of interests in Camotes :
“CAMOTES, I’LL KEEP COMING BACK ‘CAUSE YOU EXCITE ME WITH SCENES WORTH DYING FOR!”
“Mangroves of Villa Igang”
Villa Igang, in Nueva Valencia, Guimaras, hosts some of the endangered habitats of fishes and other marine wildlife. It makes use of mangroves to protect roads and pathways from soil erosion. It’s good to see that this area have not been cleared for shrimp farming, subdivision development and other tourist related facilities.
Villa Igang’s mangroves “community”.
Mangroves have the capacity to absorb CO2, storing carbon in the process in their sedimentary wastes. The plants’ numerous roots which arise from stems are aerial and submerged anchoring them in place. Since their roots inter-tangle one another, they filter water borne silts and debris, heavy metal pollutants and sewage and other toxic substances making them natural filters of catching sediments washed downstreams that facilitate soil accretion
underneath them. Other marine lives are sheltered and fed in their roots’ complex growth which served as their nesting place and survival. Mangroves Scyphiphora hydrophyllacea thrives in Villa Igang’s estuaries and lagoons making it a resort with green belts.
“Coin Divers”
After some successful coin diving attempts these Tausug children paused for me for a photo session unmindful of their being naked. These young divers dive for coins thrown by passengers aboard a ship at Bongao, Tawi-Tawi pier in southern Philippines.
Interior Of A Catholic Church in Lamitan City, Basilan
Lamitan city captured the headlines years back when this catholic church was made as a hiding place of Abbu Sayyaf rebels when they kidnapped a businessman and hid inside this church. It was destroyed when military bombed the Abbus inside. It was rebuilt and stood imposingly beautiful in a city frequented by troubles of fighting between the military and the Abbus.
Dark clouds over Mt. Tapias at Coron, Palawan
Reaching the top of Mt. Tapias was a rewarding feat. This photo was enhanced by the dark clouds just making a signal that rains will pour over this mount in minutes. And it came drenching visitors with cold droplets of rain.
“Are You Filipina?”
a little bit late to discover this post, but I feel what’s inside the hearts of Filipinos who became adults somewhere….
October is Filipino Heritage Month and the one month of the year when I reflect upon being part-Filipino. It’s not as if that’s lost on me during the rest of the year; I am reminded every time I look in the mirror, but since I have identified as Native Hawaiian for the better part of my life, the month of cultural introspection certainly allows for much-needed perspective.
When recently emigrated people ask if Iʻm Filipino, the conversation usually plays out like this:
Stranger: “Are you Filipina?”
Me: “Yes.”
Stranger: “Ahh! Where is your family from in the Phillippines?”
Me: “Ilocos.”
Stranger: “I know Ilocos!” then speaking in Tagalog or Ilocano
Me: “I’m sorry. I was born here, but my family is from Ilocos.”
Stranger: “So you aren’t from the Phillippines?”
Me: “No.”
Stranger: “And you don’t speak Filipino?”
Me: “No.”
Stranger: “Oh.”
They are disappointed. For me, I use the term…
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"Midnight Press" 