Summer 2006 Escapades (Part 4 of 5)

Rainy days have come. What better time to let the summer sun shine once again, at least in our minds.

-oOo-

White Beach, Puerto Galera

I had gotten used to Mt. Taal's eccentric charm, just as I had gotten used to Mt. Mayon's symmetric beauty way back in Bicol. Repeated trips passing that location were the culprit. Still, it was a sign when a Tagaytay stopover seemed a welcome consolation from unfulfilled expectations of the beach resorts. There had to be deliverance from these sorry mishaps.

It took an officemate to organize my best trip of the summer. Using his memories and contacts of the previous summers, he scheduled our outing two weeks after the Holy Week in White Beach near Puerto Galera. We would spend the Sunday and Monday there, admittedly a quirky schedule but this enabled us to avoid the crowd as well as the heavy traffic to and from the place. White Beach is not actually inside the "Port of the Galleons" (Puerto Galera), that maze-like enclosure (lagoon?) that, for centuries, had protected ships from destructive typhoons. It is located about two hundred kilometers further to the west. Still, it seems to be included in the Puerto Galera group of beaches, if there ever is such a thing, judging from brochures and the souvenir being sold there.

I think I'm getting ahead, though; better start with the journey that Sunday morning. We would all park our vehicles overnight at the Batangas Port (and the schedule worked to our advantage in finding parking slots). We were expecting a fairly large ferry to bring us to White Beach, but we discovered that big ships go only to the port of the capital city, incurring an additional four hours of a trip on land. For direct transport to White Beach, we rode a big-enough outrigger boat to cross the strait between Batangas and Mindoro.

The first part of the one-hour crossing consisted of an uneventful treading of an all-blue expanse. Thankfully, it was sunny that day. There were constant waves, but not the towering ones. The wind blew just strong enough to keep us cool. The air wasn't really salty, and it was the cleanest I had inhaled for quite some time. Near Mindoro, we encountered about five islands not far from our boat. White sand adorned their edges and foliage crowned their center. We would quip that the boat may drop us there, in other words, "Para po, dyan na lang sa isla."

Finally, the boat throttled straight to a wide white strip of sand. White Beach slowly revealed its scintillating details. First to be discernible was the foliage behind the beach. The greenery covered the island's geography, which, like a natural wall, quickly climbed towards the clouds. Then there were the boats that were berthed on the white sand. Then the variety of beachside inns presented their facades. Then there were the people frolicking, swimming, idling by this marine wonder. The most pleasant of all, was the fact that the sea vessel we were riding was consistently surrounded by clear blue waters from a few kilometers away from the beach up to the few splashes on one's feet upon alighting. I'm gonna like this, I mumbled under my grin as I took in the scenery from the cloud-covered trees down to the sand that I could clearly see through the purest body of water I beheld in quite some time.

Indeed, there were pleasures big and small in White Beach. Some pleasures were obviously gastronomic. Numerous seaside restaurants serve generous amounts of grilled fresh seafood. Ah, nothing beats the rustic charm of simple provincial eateries and their home-cooked fare. The crowning glory of the food we ordered would be this seven-fruit shake consisting of mango, papaya, banana, cherry, melon and watermelon deliciously served with representative slices of the mentioned fruits adorning the rim of the tall glass. Ohhh yeahhh! Considering that fruit shakes had recently become my comfort food, consumption of this wonderful concoction left not just my stomach but more so my soul greatly fulfilled.

Another big thing was, of course, the boat ride to the snorkeling sites. In one site, the corals were farther out into the sea by about 20 meters from a remote beach. It was my first time to snorkel so I cannot do comparisons, but I sure heard myself say "whoa" underwater. It was a novel experience for me to see colorful and spiky fishes swimming in the wild. The other corals site was actually nearer to the beach. I mean, the corals were less than a couple of meters away from the shore! I never knew there could be coral reefs underneath waters so shallow. This second site had a larger area reef, where the senior ones among us gleefully explored. The others who dived vigorously in the first site were already tired. I wasn't so adventurous without the snorkel gear, so I just swam along the shore. Still, there were corals and exotic fishes along the fringes. When not swimming, I enjoyed the feel of large-grained sand between my feet. From 30 meters away, an excited yell startled everyone, "Dito! Maraming fish!" We never knew our boss, the soft-spoken leader of a soft-spoken team, can shout so loudly.

As for small pleasures, one of them happened after I chickened out of a banana boat ride since the tale of the Deadly Banana Boat Ride was fresh in my mind. I just swam around the crowded beach instead. Lo and behold! A submerged piece of paper that looked like money floated in front of my goggled eyes. I grabbed and inspected it and indeed it was a hundred peso bill! To be fair, I asked those swimming nearby if they had happened to lose 100 pesos to the sea. When they said no, well, this sea treasure financed my snack of isaw and my officemate's bottle of beer. Perhaps if I swam near the foreigners, I might snag a floating $100 bill, which was more than enough to pay for my total expenses in this trip.

Of the few things that I take issue from, one was the commercialization of this strip of white sand. Even with clear waters and white sand, serious nature trekkers would find it hard to take solace and commune with nature; since, it was as if a commercial district in Metro Manila was transported to the main beach. That was one more reason why the boat rides to the snorkel sites were more enjoyable: no crowds, no blaring music, no torturous videoke singers, and no smoke from dozens of barbecue grills from the numerous restaurants that line the beach. Speaking of restaurants, it would be wise to order even before the onset of hunger; because, the restaurants, or at most those we've tried out take a notoriously long time to cook those orders. Speaking also of crowds, it was not just people and establishments that crowd the main beach. Along the shores were docked boats awaiting snorkelers, and, even more irksome, were the outrigger ferries that regularly arrive and depart to load and unload passengers right on the beach. The swimmers would have to give way to these vessels: there was never a good time for an idyllic swim on the main beach.

Moving on, the important thing was that White Beach delivered on what I was expecting--clean and clear waters--and more. With nearby less crowded alternative swimming sites reachable by boat or by traversing rocks, the shortcomings are more than compensated. I'll be back, definitely.

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Photo Credits: The high-quality ones I got from what my boss shared in our internal website.

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Summer 2006 Escapades (Part 3 of 5)

Rainy days have come. What better time to let the summer sun shine once again, at least in our minds.

-oOo-

A live band would be playing in the resort restaurant later that night, so we three single men went to check it out. At the very least we'll get to enjoy a few bottles of beer. We ordered Red Horse while one had Coke as chaser, for faster alcohol absorption, he claims. The band opened up its act with Evanescence covers, which suits them nicely since they had three vocalists, one guy and two girls. For instruments, they had a lead guitar, keyboards, base guitar and drums. One thing I found strange was that while they were playing rock the band wore hip-hop get-up. (The two singing ladies were the exception since they sported a cowgirl look with their sleeved top, denim short shorts and knee-high boots.) The fashion anomaly was explained during the second set, when they chilled out with hip-hop, perhaps to showcase their versatility not just in singing but also in terms of genres.

Our guy with the Coke chaser was smitten by one of the vocalists. He'd been gulping down a few more bottles while raving about the mestiza beauty he imagined to be actually singing to him (memories of his ex who was also a band vocalist back in their province). She looked older than me, though. I preferred the other girl vocalist whose mestiza features were gentler (maamo ang mukha). She looked younger too, perhaps still in college. Actually, I wasn't too keen on enjoying beauty at that time; I was diggin’ their music, so sometimes I tapped to the beat or sang along.

Perhaps it was that appreciation they were looking for, aside from the fact that I must have been the youngest in the audience, that when they played upbeat music, and Coke chaser guy's favorite singer was searching for someone to dance to their groove, she approached our table, not for him, but for me. I decided to oblige her for a few seconds only, since I wasn't in the mood to dance. It was enough, though, to start the ball rolling for the rest of the audience. By the end of the set, the stage was filled with moving bodies. I kidded our smitten drinking companion for not joining the people on stage and dance with her, asking him how many more bottles of beer he would need. (He'd been pouring beer to my glass. It was a futile attempt to make me drunk since I just returned it to his glass whenever he leaves to take a leak.)

The third and last set started off with the band finally playing requests for the latest OPM hits. Audience participation was impressive as some volunteered to sing or even play the drums. After another prodding from the lady vocalist (this time I directed her to her big fan in our group), all three of us, along with almost all of the audience, were dancing away at the stage. I was amazed at how my tipsiness could make me simply flow with the music. I was just the back-up dancer, though; the guy with the chaser-induced tipsiness was the one dancing with his star. Too bad for him, as I noticed within the few seconds I danced during the previous set, the girls, although they could engage an audience, didn't engage on a personal level (no eye contact, not even the appearance of connecting). I guess it was their way of being professional. Our fan was not unfazed. When the show ended after a little while, he engaged his star for some small talk. He learned that she was actually just a freshie in a Laguna college. Well, whaddya know!

Earlier that evening, our fellow trip mates booked for the next day an early-morning boat ride to an island(?) nearby. This would have allowed us the opportunity to bask in un-crowded white sand glory and swim in clear waters. Unfortunately, the three of us clambered back to our rooms at around three in the morning, a mere couple of hours before the boatmen came to fetch us. They did come, but we were all deep in our sleep. We had alcohol as an excuse, I don't know about the others. When we woke up, a few hours were left before we head back to Manila, concluding the most jologs -- worse, the tackiest excursion I ever had.


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Summer 2006 Escapades (Part 2 of 5)

Rainy days have come. What better time to let the summer sun shine once again, at least in our minds.

-oOo-

Nasugbu, Batangas

So much for "private seaside houses," my brother’s in-laws decided they'd have to enjoy the summer on a real beach. Their wide search had considered high-end ones with the works on water as well as on land. I learned the summer version of the word "opportunistic": in those high-end resorts, everything, and I mean everything that you might need and want while there, from bed sheets to badminton rackets, was for rent. Thus apart from the ten thousand-plus peso main fee, the resorts were raking in additional income per night or per hour. Oh well, I guess that's how it would have to be to survive in the tourism industry. Besides, we could take care of our logistical needs to avoid the additional fees.

In the end, our beach experience was banal as banal can be. We settled for one of those resorts that dot the beach-side boulevard along Nasugbu, Batangas. The resort was obviously not high-end, but at least it won't charge additional fees. We were booked for the Holy Week(end).

Now, this four-day weekend is the longest respite from work in this country, and, since it coincides with the summer season when everyone is in vacation mode, most people, or at least the Metro Manila working class families would spend this God-given free time at the beach or in Bagiuo City. Personally, I would prefer that people would return to their home province, and practice their respective traditional Holy Week rituals. In that way, I think the reconnection to one's own roots, one's own community, would make reflection and repentance more heartfelt. What choice did I have, however, last Holy Week? I was unable to secure a ticket to Naga City. The buses were now fully booked, and I didn't want to idle around Cubao bus station as a chance passenger. Besides, I was now one of those working class Manileños, so for once, I shall go with the flow of the unrepentant sinners out to have some hedonistic fun (relax folks, that was just an exaggeration).

Once again, we passed by Tagaytay, then onwards to Batangas. With a little help from the locals ("Ganire, gan-on," an old woman muttered while her arms' gesticulation hinted left turns; as to which street, and how far that was, we had to ask others along the way), we were at the boulevard, looking for our resort.

After settling down from unpacking food and utensils, we decided to check the beach out. The strip of sand was more than two kilometers wide, I suppose, but it was crowded by beachgoers, this weekend being the peak of tourist influx. The sand was black like in the “private seaside house”, but what disappointed me, though, was the murky water, which they say was due to its proximity to Manila Bay. I wasn't going to swim in this liquid where I couldn't see anything a few feet underneath. Instead, I contented myself with a very long stroll along the coast as the sun was setting into the waters (the beach was situated at the west of Luzon; thus, watching sunsets were as simple as looking straight out to the sea).

People-watching during the stroll had left me doubly disappointed with the dearth of human beauty. Sure there may be one eye-catching group or family after some ten meters or so, but I would prefer seeing one wherever I turn my gaze (the two places where that happens are at the Powerplant Mall and the Ateneo Loyola Schools). I might as well have gone to Boracay (and see the same people frequenting Powerplant and studying at the Ateneo). There was not even a single familiar face in here. It seemed my friends knew better than to get stuck in some beach that had seen better times.

The one reward I had for my kilometers-long stroll was stumbling upon the mouth of the river, the source of all that black sand. Its water was just as dirtied, carrying the waste coming from some Batangas town(s). Nevertheless, the geek in me enjoyed standing at the point where fresh water met salt water, their currents countering each other. I wished I had brought my camera-phone to capture this moment, grainy photo or not. I wished for the camera-phone again to capture the moment the jet skier passed right beside a reddish sun hanging low on the horizon. When the sun's disc touched the horizon, it took less than a minute for it to be completely under the blue expanse of the sea.

I did my swimming in the pool of our resort. Thank goodness for their providing a clean body of water albeit man-made. Just that I had to watch out for the transvestite with fake(?) boobs who'd been soaking in the pool for hours, like an alligator waiting for its prey.

The highlight of the entire trip happened later that night...


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Summer 2006 Escapades (Part 1 of 5)

Rainy days have come. What better time to let the summer sun shine once again, at least in our minds.

-oOo-

Earning their own salary enables people to splurge in their personal luxuries. The most common of these financial black holes would be clothes, shoes and accessories. Others reward themselves to a massage, as spa or perhaps a beauty treatment. The techies would gobble up the latest gadgets, while others still go for their comfort food, or any delicious food for that matter.

I don't know if I can consider myself lucky to not have the above types of luxuries that demand a regular share of the monthly income. My luxury is seasonal and highly dependent on my leaves and work schedule. There is also the high possibility that it can get cancelled, one reason being the other participants' inability to raise funds due to the demands of their regular indulgence. These factors allow me to save more money for my future stability and my future of more lavish luxuries (I wish!). Talk about delayed gratification! On the other hand, when all the factors like time, weather, logistics and funds are in cosmic balance, I then indulge in my personal luxury: the vacation trip.

The summer season from March to May (expanded to February-June) is the perfect opportunity for these trips. With newly available vacation leaves and last year’s savings at my disposal, I was all set to grab that opportunity last Summer 206 and lavish myself with a trip to the beach or any swim-able body of water for that matter...

-oOo-

"Private Seaside House" in Batangas

My brother's in-laws were invited to their friend's "seaside house" somewhere in Batangas. To go there, one passes through the same route as one would go to Nasugbu. The extended family, as well as family friends, answered the invitation. Nothing beats the lure of a "private seaside house"; we were imagining the freedom and the perks this house would provide to us. What surprises could be in store for us?

We started the excursion one February morning. In the South Expressway, we took the Sta. Rosa exit, allowing us to pass by Tagaytay. The morning air in this city is pleasantly aircon-cool. Going down from the Taal Caldera, the next part of the trip was a long uneventful drive.

In a Batangas highway, our host drove up with his pickup to meet us and to guide us to his place (we were starting to get lost). Along the way, we dropped by his friend's resort, which was more famous in the past as the location for a kenkoy movie. Sadly, the resort had lost whatever glory it had, for it now appeared as a mere run-of-the-mill resort. The owner conceded that a power plant nearby had affected beachgoers perceptions. Fortunately, we're not staying in a resort, but in a "private seaside house."

After the resort, we approached the colossal structures of the coal power plant the resort owner mentioned earlier. To our great surprise, our host turned to the entrance of that plant. We beheld up close how giant shovels would haul coal from a docked cargo ship, place it in giant conveyor belts, which in turn would dump their load beside the plant, creating mountains of coal. From these mountains, the coal would then be placed in another giant conveyor belt that would feed them into the plant itself, fuelling the giant generator that creates electricity. Man, everything was huge in here!

Our vehicle convoy stopped at a bungalow located just outside the plant complex. It turned out that our host is the contractor for the coal-mining and delivery to this power plant. Yup, his company owns the cargo ship docked nearby. The bungalow was the rest house for the crew while the coal was still being unloaded. Okay, so we would be staying here, fine, I guess the aircon would filter out the coal dust that was now sticking to my skin. If we'd still have to drive to the swimming area, that's fine by me, as long as it would be away from this place.

Unfortunately, this was actually the "seaside house," meaning, we'd be swimming nearby, right beside this coal power plant. Indeed, after a couple of minutes' walk, we encountered what appeared to be a miniscule "beach" with black sand and a floating hut. They said the sand was black not because of the coal, but because of volcanic deposits from a nearby river. I still took issue with the sand though; because, under water, it turned into something like coarse mud. The sanded area of the "beach" was a puny 20-meter stretch from side to side and a pathetic three-meter skip-and-hop towards the water. The water by the "beach" was enclosed like a tiny "bay". The water, though, was clear since I could still see the little fishes swimming below. It was actually a good sign that fauna thrives here, like the small crabs and snails crawling up the hut and the school of flying fish doing their aerial leaps a few meters away. The water itself wasn't too salty and didn't give me an itch.

The floating hut became our dining area. The seniors share their stories after some drinks. One couple had to take care of their toddler. The young couples, on the other hand, wandered away on a banca, sharing romantic moments while rowing around the enclosure. As for the singles like me, we contented ourselves with some swimming as well as with partaking of the abundant food.


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