Author: Kupitero2

During our short trip to Siem Reap to marvel at the spectacular temples in the Angkor complex – Angkor Wat is just the centerpiece in this massive Khmer kingdom- we learned not only about the ancient past but also how young Cambodians look up to the future.  Thanks to our young ‘tuk-tuk‘ driver, Lam Lot, and the universality of the English language.

Aboard his black-colored cart with that distinctive purple seat covers and pulled by a 125 cc. motorcycle, he informed us that he had invested about US$1450 ($550 for the cart & $900 for a popular Japanese-brand motorcycle) for his contraption after he left his all-around job at a hotel that paid him US$ 100 per month.

Taxis are very rare, especially in the outskirts of downtown Siem Reap which made the tuk-tuks the most convenient way to get around the city.   Although shops are abundant that rent out motorcycles, scooters, ATVs, and bikes but you’re on your own to figure out your way around.

Educated by Buddhist monks, Lam Lot is the epitome of the new breed of young Cambodians who are determined to not only forget the grim, yet not-so-distant past and focus on the now but are also willing to embrace new technologies.

During the Pol Pot regime, simply being an intellectual was already a death sentence.  These days, thanks to the Internet and the tourism boom, young Cambodians are much more aware of what’s going on in and outside of their country and are also willing to step up to the plate to propel their country forward.

Lot -he preferred to be called by that name -is employed by the hotel (Sekla Villa Angkor) where we stayed that has a stable of about 4 or 5 tuk-tuk drivers to transport guests around for free as a marketing ploy.

We got endeared to him by his persistence to converse with us in English although we have to stick our ears to his mouth for us to comprehend what he meant.

Accompanied by hand gestures, we were able to relay most of what we wanted to accomplish while we toured the city.  He also refused to take our tips (but we persisted) for the trip from the airport to our hotel and informed  (yes, almost scolded) us that everything was part of the hotel deal.

Before we headed to our room, we paid for the “grand circle tour” ($5) as well as for the “sunset viewing” ($10) in one of the temples along the way but made us wonder why the former didn’t already cover the latter.  We also reminded the young lady receptionist that we wanted the same tuk-tuk driver that brought us in.

The next morning, immediately after we had our breakfasts, Lot greeted us with his sheepish smile and provided us an overview of the grand circle tour of the Angkor complex using a map that he pulled out from the canopy of his tuk-tuk.  He had also brought a cooler that he filled up with ice and several bottled water.

Except for our lodging, we had done almost no research about the Angkor complex and we all thought that going to Angkor Wat was simply a matter of visiting another UNESCO World Heritage site in maybe a couple of hours, taking a few pictures, heading back to our hotel to rest and then pick another interesting spot to visit in the city.  How wrong we were.

Siem Reap, despite its eclectic blend of the old and new, its provincial and small city charm, had already instilled a mixed feeling of excitement and sadness inside me yesterday after I saw piles of garbage strewn all over the place just a few miles from the airport and inside the city proper.

A small creek floating with food take-out boxes and an assortment of plastic debris nearby our hotel didn’t help to contradict that sadness–that, sometimes, borders on outright disgust.

Soon, the narrow inner roads gave way to much wider, cemented roads where, from a distance, we could see a cluster of tall, white-colored structures with bright red roofing — the Angkor Complex Visitors Center.

Lot told us to get our tickets inside and pointed to a spot where he’ll meet us amidst the pandemonium of people — tourists that poured out from numerous tour buses, cars, tuk-tuks, scooters, bicycles, peddlers, tour guides, etc.– in the parking lot.

He had also explained to us along the way that ticket prices were increased from US$37 for a single day entry (usually $20) and the special “‘buy 2 days & get the 3rd day free” to $62 (usually $40) to take advantage of the influx of Chinese tourists visiting Cambodia for their holidays since it’s their Lunar New Year.

The US dollar is the unofficial and widely accepted currency in the country although locals will still gladly take Cambodian riels.  Most shops will either give your change in riel or dollars depending on what’s available.

Now armed with our 3-day passes, we drove for another mile or so until we reached a checkpoint manned by two uniformed personnel who verified our faces with the pictures on the passes and punched the date we entered located at the back of our tickets.

It was after we made a short right turn towards our first stop in our grand circle tour that we all realized how massive the Angkor complex was. This is going to be a very long day.

The temples in the almost 16-mile long ‘grand circle tour’  not only mesmerized, tantalized, and dazzled our eyes but also made our feet very sore.  Unfortunately,  I had lost my custom-made foot orthosis on the flight to Manila (we traveled to Siem Reap via Hanoi from Manila) and the off-the-shelf foot support that I used did not help much either.

There were several occasions during our 3-day sorties inside the Angkor complex that I just preferred to stay in the tuk-tuk with Lot because of the constant pain on my left ankle while my wife and her sister, Rosana, excitedly clambered up the steps of the taller stone towers.

Past noon saw us sleeping in a row of hammocks beside a roadside eatery near Neak Pean which is an artificial island with a Buddhist temple as its centerpiece.  Most eateries inside the complex -as well as the tuk-tuks– have hammocks that provide a quick way to take a nap.

We were so tired after we emerged from the west gate of the next temple, Preah Khan, that we had the comforts of the hotel bed in the back of our heads as soon as we boarded Lot’s tuk-tuk once again.

The Bayon was so big that we all decided to just take a few photos aboard the tuk-tuk, revisit the place the following day and head back to the hotel instead.  Not after we passed by a memorial for people who died in the ‘killing fields’ during the Pol Pot regime.

Before we headed to our room, Lot informed us that he would take us to a massage parlor – they’re all over the city – to soothe our tired legs and bodies as well as a night tour of downtown Siam Reap.  We had to do this impromptu trip in a jiffy as we still had the “sunrise viewing” of Angkor Wat that required us to be up by 4:30 AM the next day.

If there’s a compelling reason to return to Siam Reap, it would be those massage parlors.  Not only were the massages ridiculously cheap -as low as $1.50 for an hour-long foot massage- but they also served as the perfect way to end your very, very tiring day inside the ancient complex.

You would do your conscience a big favor when you tip well those masseuses and masseurs as we all agreed that those low rates straddle the thin line between slave labor and gainful employment.

Very early the following morning, after we picked up our breakfasts in paper bags from the receptionist, Lot motored us to a different route for our dawn viewing of the magnificent Angkor Wat — the main reason for our Cambodian trip.

We eventually spent almost half a day inside the splendid Angkor Wat whose walls, lintels, nooks, and crevices were adorned by some of the most fascinating carvings and inscriptions the human race had ever seen.  We also managed to venture as far as the outer, eastern portion of the complex.

For the Khmers, life simply goes on; content with the knowledge that the temples will remain with them for as long as they live.  For us visitors, we can only enjoy every moment of this special opportunity to marvel at one of mankind’s greatest creations.

Later on, he showed us another part of downtown that’s popular among ex-pats and had lunch at a fast-food joint that featured an eclectic mix of just about everything on their menu.

Afterward, Lot recommended that we visit the fishing village of Kompong Phluk, which took the better of 1.5 hours for the one-way, back-breaking trip on mostly unsealed roads.

It was almost like a scene from a “Mad Max” movie as our boat meandered along the murky Tonlé Sap river whose stench competed with our curiosity for any marine or human activities on this surreal backdrop.

The Tonlé Sap river ends on a lake with the same name and connects it with the 7th longest river in Asia — the Mekong.  Just like the river, this huge lake had suffered great sedimentation due to the exploitation of its resources.  A patina of brown seemingly tints the water as the sun’s reflection bounces from the bottom towards the surface.

On the way back to our hotel, Lot would point to us the dusty road that leads to his parent’s house where he and his young wife stays.  He pays for the family’s food and utility expenses.  A few more miles on the same highway, he would point to a grocery store owned by a relative of his wife where she helps out.

On our last day in Siem Reap, Lot would take us again to the old market early in the morning where we bought a suitcase for all our extra stuff since we arrived in Hanoi exactly a week ago.  He also helped us get discounts for all our souvenirs in the tourists’ market nearby the very popular night attraction in downtown —‘Pub Street’.

After we packed all our bags and turned them over to the front desk for custody, we checked out of our hotel and allowed Lot to decide for us how to spend the remaining 8 or so hours we had to spare before our late evening flight to Puerto Princesa in the Philippines.

Without wasting any time, he drove us to the temples in Ta Phrom which is a much smaller complex east of the Bayon.  Because of the humidity, I decided just to stay aboard his tuk-tuk while I peruse my newly-purchased guide book, “Ancient Angkor” by Michael Freeman and Claude Jacques.

While we waited for the sisters, we had our late lunch at a spot where locals and tuk-tuk drivers eat -there was a pair of tourists on backpacks- and had fried chicken wings and fish and sautéed mustard greens that went along with a heap of steamed rice.

After we had picked up the sisters, we passed by the Bayon again with the hopes of just relaxing in one of its many open spaces near the water since the noonday heat had jacked up the humidity scale much higher.

He suggested that we buy some snacks and drinks once outside the Angkor complex and suggested that we proceed to a “picnic spot where he often goes when he and his wife were still sweethearts“.

The place turned out to be West Baray, a man-made lake or reservoir that was constructed in the 11th century and was a crucial component of the Angkor complex during the heydays of the Khmer empire.

Some construction is going on on the artificial island – the West Mebon, where a magnificent bronze Vishnu still stands- located in the middle of this huge reservoir that covers an area of about 1,760 hectares (4,349 acres).

It’s very popular with locals who go there to picnic, take naps, or a quick dip in its murky, brown water.  There are no gates either where you pay a fee upfront to enter.  A lot simply spoke to an elderly woman who proceeded to find a spot for the 4 of us amongst the numerous huts that were on stilts.

Each hut seems to have a few hammocks randomly strung on it but we found it more refreshing to lay on the mats strewn on the bamboo floor.

It was in this rustic setting, after we had some snacks, that I pondered long and hard on the calm waters of the West Baray.  My thoughts drifted to the days when I was still a young kid growing up in a sleepy town called Baclaran.

Manila Bay was my West Baray and the nearby Redemptorist (Our Lady of Perpetual Help) Church, although not afloat in a body of water, could have been the West Mebon.  The noonday heat had reached its peak and a slight breeze from the north lulled the three of us into a slumber while Lam Lot borrowed a piece of cloth from the same elderly woman as he prepared to take a swim.

In my short dream, various nostalgic moments rumbled through my head but they were not too vivid enough for me to recollect when I woke up smiling afterward – except for one: that I was walking along the grass-lined walkways inside the Angkor complex where the Khmer people were all smiling at me on a quiet day sometimes in those ancient days.

Day 1 – Jan. 31, 2016 – (Sunday): Nueva Ecija here we come

Rey, who would be driving, arrived at my aunt’s house at about 3:45 AM that balmy Sunday morning.  January usually is the height of the dry season in the archipelago.  Still, the calm westerly winds also gave that early part of the day a relaxed and almost comforting atmosphere.

I hardly slept that night as I still suffered from the late effects of jet lag and the non-stop noise from the tricycles and scooters.  My aunt’s house straddled the main road in that part of Imus that had become a veritable commercial area — a far cry from the rural appeal the place had for me where I finished my high school years in the mid-70s.

We wasted no time and left for Mandaluyong – where we picked up Rona, her mother, Nita (my mother-in-law), and Ronald’s family (his wife Winnie and twin sons Dominic and Benedict) – as we were running late.  But not after stopping by a drug store where Rey bought some medicine for his stomach ulcer and at a gas station where we inflated the tires to their correct pressure.  After all, the trip to Nueva Ecija would be about 5-6 hours, despite our very early start.

Ronald married a coworker while he was a teacher in a private school near San Juan, Metro Manila.  Winnie‘s parents hail from Santo Domingo, Nueva Ecija, where both had been tilling a sizeable piece of farmland entrusted to them.

They don’t own the title to the land but only get a portion of the rice harvest.  Nueva Ecija owns the title of being the ‘rice granary of the Philippines’.

It was almost 6 AM when we left Manila and its outskirt cities as we entered the first three expressways to our destination.

We used a connecting road along Mindanao Avenue in Quezon City to enter NLEX (North Luzon Expressway).  This two-lane expressway (the equivalent of a secondary highway in advanced countries) would go all the way to Santa Ines in Pampanga until we utilized another connector road somewhere in Tarlac to another expressway called SCTEX (Subic-Clark-Tarlac Expressway).  We traversed only a short portion of this newly built two-lane highway until it dead-ends in the city of Tarlac as we veered east to the final expressway, TPLEX (Tarlac-Pangasinan-La Union Expressway).

The road narrowed after we utilized the Aliaga exit along TPLEX and found ourselves along the old MacArthur Highway that was once the main artery if you’re going north of these islands.

You’re already in Nueva Ecija when you see ‘palay‘ (unmilled rice) on the roadside and passenger tricycles plying the main roads.

We finally arrived in the town of Santo Domingo five (5) hours after we left Mandaluyong.  The trip covered about 250 kilometers (155 miles), yet it felt like one of the longest days I was on the road because of the numerous turnouts we took after we got out of the expressways.

Winnie’s parent (Willie and Gloria) house is a low-slung, single-story concrete structure located about a few hundred meters from the feeder road, surrounded by rice fields.

I was immediately attracted to a set of varnished bamboo chairs two of which are longer than the others – on the small veranda of the house that overlooked the rice fields.  What perfect spots to take a quick nap!

After the formal introductions,  I used my bag as a pillow and stretched my tired body on one of the long chairs that faced the rice fields.  At the same time, Ronald and his wife went to the nearest public market using the family-owned tricycle to buy all the ingredients for lunch.

Lunch was almost ready when I woke up an hour later.  Winnie had been busy grilling the large yet fresh ‘pusit‘ (squid), several pieces of fish locally called ‘dalag‘ (mudfish), and ‘pork liempo‘ (grilled pork spare ribs marinated in ‘calamansi‘ (miniature lime) and soy sauce).

Using freshly harvested vegetables from a nearby plot, Winnie’s mother prepared an Ilocano version of ‘pinakbet.‘   She also made a side dish of green mango salad.  On a long table set up outside, heaps of newly-cooked rice lie in wait.

After lunch, I couldn’t resist taking a few pictures of the rustic scenery and then headed back to my makeshift bed and took another nap.  The magnificent view of the verdant rice fields seems to have cast a hypnotic spell upon me that, in no time, I was in dreamland once again.

At about 3 PM, Rey reminded me that we should leave for Talavera before dark as we might not find it easy to look for my relatives’ place.

I had planned to visit my uncle, “Tata Amado”  (the only living brother of my late father) and cousins in the nearby town of Talavera, and it was one of the reasons I had agreed to join the trip.

We reached Calipahan Bridge – the only landmark I could still remember getting there- in about 40 minutes using the interior roads.

We had to ask for directions twice before we found my cousin Fidela’s house.  She was our dear  ‘Ate Dely‘ when she was still a teenager and stayed with us in Baclaran.  She’s the second to the eldest in the big family of my uncle — 8 daughters (Lucena†, Fidela, Ila, Vita, Teresa (Tate), Josefina (Fina), Divina, and Ata) and an only son, Ambrosio or “Ambo.”

Ambo is about my age and was my constant companion when I visited them.  It had been more than 30 years since my last visit to Talavera.  The last time was during the summer break before I entered my first year in college; I had brought along my bike on that trip, and I remember that I had ridden my bike as far as the province’s boundary with Nueva Viscaya.

While Ate Dely and I got reacquainted, Rey wandered around the surrounding areas.

Winnie and Ronald took this an opportune time to make a quick trip to nearby Cabanatuan City aboard a tricycle.  I moved on to visit the rest of my cousins whose houses were just next to each other — just a few meters away from Fidela’s.

Although most of the siblings built their houses on the ancestral lot, a portion of their old house where they grew up remained.

Upon seeing my Tata Amado in his wheelchair on the veranda of their old house, my mind raced back to when I was in my late teens, and everywhere I looked, it was fresh and expansive.  I still remember the infinite rice fields, the carabaos in the shed, the giant pomelo, and other fruit trees.  And, yes, the quiet, dusty road that led inwards to the town — the same dusty road where Ambo and I rode our bikes on our way to Pantabagan Dam.

The roads are now busy, and the incessant sound of the tricycles seems to drown whatever peace has remained.  Everything seems to have been taken over by a melange of concrete, steel, sheet metal, and other appurtenances that humans euphemistically term progress.

And I felt a deep sadness in my heart and that same question beckoned — “Why do we have to grow old?”

I took pictures, asked questions, and met some of my nephews and nieces whose names and faces I won’t probably remember the next time.  They would have all grown up and changed and will have their own families.

We headed back to Santo Domingo before sunset and stopped briefly at a  7-11 for three (3) bottles of San Miguel Grande.  We made another stop at a roadside “ihaw-ihaw” (barbeque) stall, where we got some grilled “pork liempo” and “lechon manok.”

Our companions were already on their sleeping attires when we arrived.  We had our beers and BBQs for dinner –along with a plateful of rice and a vegetable dish.

Winnie’s father and brother later joined at the table as we spent the rest of the evening listening to stories that primarily focused on how their family had settled on the place.

Day 2 – Feb. 01, 2016 – (Monday): The Road Back to Manila

A mosquito net plus an electric fan enabled me to get some deep sleep, so I grabbed my camera as I took nature’s call outside to take a few pictures of the surrounding areas at daybreak.  It was about 6 AM.

The narrow dirt road that leads to a cemented one that will take us to the main highway was still empty, and sunrise painted the horizon with varying shades of gray and yellow.

I staggered back inside the house to make myself a cup of coffee   Everyone roused up early except one of the twins, still deep in slumber on the sofa bed.

Someone had prepared the kitchen table for a quick breakfast — a Thermos bottle, packets of instant coffee and chocolate, and a blue plastic bag full of bite-sized hot “pan de sal” were already neatly laid out.

I grabbed a few pieces of the tiny buns as Ronald emerged from the door near a hand-driven water pump, held up two cans, and asked if I wanted corned beef hash or sardines for him to sauté.

“Both,” I replied and immediately headed to the veranda to enjoy the morning view of the rice fields with my impromptu breakfast.

After everybody had their breakfast, we took turns fetching water from the manual water pump using plastic pails for our showers.  I used the smaller outdoor toilet near some bamboo trees, and tidbits of memories streamed to my brain about how I used to go through all these morning rituals during my extended stays with my cousins in Talavera.

It was about 9 AM when we all got ready for the trip back to Manila, But not after passing by the small parcel of land centrally located among all the rice fields in the surrounding areas that Ronald had called “gubat” (forest).

We had to walk along very narrow footpaths to reach it, so we parked the van along the road where a treehouse was nearby.  Her wheeled walker prevented my mother-in-law from coming along.  Rona decided to stay with her in the truck.  She would join us in the ‘gubat’ a few minutes later.

The ‘gubat‘ serves as a perfect resting area and refuge for farmers after tilling the land for hours during the hot, dry months and during the typhoon season when sporadic rains and howling winds batter the rice fields.

‘Manong’ Willie had erected a small hut with elevated flooring made of bamboo and nipa.  Bamboo and palm – came from the trees that grew abundantly on the fringes of the same tract of land.  The underside of the hut served as a temporary coop for native chickens and their young broods until he decided where to put up a permanent and bigger one on the land.

Except for electricity and a permanent water source, the ‘gubat‘ could be an excellent place to be in case of a calamity since it’s not only elevated, but also self-sufficient   Fruit trees were abundant, and Manong Willie planted vegetables almost everywhere.  There were also several pigs as well as ducks that roamed freely in the open spaces.

We lingered for over an hour, and my mind tried vainly to connect the present with my long-gone youth.  Time indeed has ways to temper even the most outrageous dreams of humankind.

And so, during this brief summer interlude in Nueva Ecija, I realized that although my idealism may have long been gone, my appreciation for life and all its blessings will always remain.

Day 1 – Feb. 15, 2016 – (Monday): Gone to Cagbalete Island

I wiped away the sleep from my eyes at about 3:30 AM, only to find Rona, my sister-in-law, already busy in the kitchen.  The night before, we had bought some “pan de sal” at a store adjacent to the place where we had intended to eat a version of the famous “Ilocos empanada” at the “Fariñas Ilocos Empanada“ located across the Mandaluyong city hall complex along Maysilo Street.

However, they had closed earlier than usual that day for general cleaning, so to appease my empanada craving, we bought instead “lechon manok” and “inihaw na liempo” (grilled chicken and pork belly, respectively) from a small stall called “Mang Boks.”

Rona’s youngest son, Matthew – fondly called ‘Balong‘ and who suggested the place – and his wife, Johan (just two months married), with one of my wife’s first cousins, Lelen, would be my companions to Cagbalete Island.

We hailed a taxicab that took us to the JAC Liner bus terminal in Kamias, Quezon City.  The bus fare was PHP 270 (USD 5.70), and this was the first of only two daily direct trips to Mauban, Quezon, which would supposedly take about 4 hours.  It arrived more than an hour late after making numerous stops – loading and unloading passengers – after it exited the South Luzon expressway in Sto. Tomas, Batangas, and meandered around the cities and towns – San Pablo, Tiaong, Candelaria, Sariaya, Lucena – surrounding mystical Mount Banahaw.

Tricycles awaited passengers after they alighted from the bus.  We informed one of the tricycle drivers that we were headed to the pier – to Cagbalete Island – so we chose his ride as it was next on the queue anyway.  The young driver suggested we pass by the public market to buy supplies we may need on the island.

We needed much more time in the market after realizing how unprepared we were for the trip and being very hungry after the long bus ride that included an extended rest stop in Lucena City‘s grand central bus terminal.

We offered the driver extra money if he would wait for us.  He agreed but reminded us again that there were only two daily ferry trips to the island, and the first would leave in about an hour or so. I immediately looked for a place to eat while the rest shopped.

I found a restaurant that advertised “tapsilog” (beef “tapa” –  beef marinated in vinegar, spices, and garlic, then dried and fried – with a serving of fried rice (“sinangag”) plus a fried egg (“itlog“)) and placed two orders along with a serving of “bulaló” (beef soup). Balong and Johan arrived a few minutes later with two big jugs of water and cookies. They placed their orders while I bought a package of fish-flavored “kropek” (flour cracklings) from an elderly lady selling an assortment of snacks.

I looked up the menu board again and noticed that the place also served a version of the province’s famous “pancit habhab.”  Also known as “pancit lukban” in honor of the town where it originated, the very distinct taste of the noodles is what it’s all about.  As soon as we cleaned up our plates, I placed three (3) more orders of the noodle dish for our dinner in case we could not easily find a place to eat on the island.   Meanwhile, Lelen looked for beer and some bread to go with the delectable ‘pancit.’

We loaded our goodies into the waiting tricycle. The driver took us first to a nondescript office of the local port authority, where we registered our names and paid the island’s environmental protection fee of PHP 50 (USD 1.05).  Several PHP 10 paper tickets served as the receipt with the name of the place we intended to stay on the island scribbled on them.

The oversized “banca“ (canoe) with a double bamboo outrigger was still busy loading some of its cargoes and passengers when we arrived at the port of Mauban at about 10:50 AM.

We registered our names again on a ledger passed around and paid another PHP 50 (USD 1.05) per ferry fee.  The boat did not leave until about 11:30.  I snapped away on my small Canon camera as the “M/B Neneng” slowly pulled away from the port of Mauban.

We got seated in pairs with a woman in her mid-fifties and a small girl sandwiched between us in the midsection of the boat.  I could immediately tell that they were locals returning to the island. As with the rest of the passengers, you could also easily tell who the residents of Cagbalete Island are.  Their sun-bronzed skin and low-key demeanor evoked a muted understanding of how life must be on the island.

The sticky feeling one gets in Manila dissipated as the overcast weather and cool northeast winds that locals call the “amihan” smacked our faces as the boat progressed east toward its destination.

We had to shout in each other’s faces to communicate as the boat’s diesel engine purred loudly behind us, and the skimpy vinyl covering held up by bamboo poles did not help the cause.

“I hope all our gadgets and devices can hold their charge while we’re on the island,” I yelled to Matthew.

“You will be able to charge your devices on the island,” the woman beside the little girl butted in her low voice.

I smiled to acknowledge her response and asked if she knew where we could stay on the island, as we hadn’t made any reservations yet.

Aling Baby offered her place for PHP 200 (USD 4.25) a night.  I agreed but thought it was too low, so I asked her again if that was really the price she wanted and that we wanted to check out the house first, and she just nodded.

We talked more about the details of her house and how life was on the island, but our conversation was cut short when we noticed that the boat’s engine had stopped.  It was almost noon when she reminded me to remove my socks and foot orthosis before we disembarked.

The water at the tiny port of Sabang on Cagbalete Island was very shallow, so we transferred to a smaller ‘banca’ (dinghy boat) that brought us to the white sand-lined banks of the island.  People milled around the port, but Aling Baby whisked us to a small alley that led to a series of narrow but cemented passageways.  We passed several stores, a ‘barangay’ (village) hall, a billiard parlor, a small chapel, and a tiny stall selling pan-grilled hamburgers.

A satellite dish protruded in front of the wood and bamboo house with a thatched roof that sat right across an old, manual water pump locally called a ‘poso.’  Adjacent to it was an elementary school whose far end would be another narrow passageway leading you to the other side of Cagbalete Island.

We checked the second level of the house where we were supposed to spend two nights on the island and found the two rooms more than sufficient, so we told her that we all agreed to her offer.  She informed us that she has another house – without a bathroom – near the island’s other and less populated side.

Although all of us were so tired, having started the day very early, adrenaline kicked into gear, and we all got so excited to explore the island and tagged along with her.

The ‘other’ house was a nicer-looking and more spacious bamboo hut.  However, we passed on it after learning that we had to get our water from an old well.  And, no TV.

We met a couple of tourists going the other way along the ‘cogon’ (wild grass) lined path and followed their tracks as we sidestepped a few puddles and muddied sections.  Except for a badly maintained vegetable field operated by the municipal government in a cordoned-off area, there were hardly any other signs of agricultural activity in this part of the island.

The passageway ended at the back of one of the island’s many resorts, Villa Noe, where I eyed another visitor about to take her late lunch in the open restaurant. We marveled at the spectacular beauty and tranquility of the entire place and agreed that ‘this,’ indeed, is the Cagbalete Island we saw in all those beautiful pictures on the web.

We took many pictures, waded in the warm water, and leisurely walked along the white sand coastline headed north as Aling Baby narrated facts and tales about Cagbalete island.

It could have taken us about an hour to walk back to the main port, so we agreed to take another boat ride when we chanced upon one immediately after we passed by a private resort.  Although fatigue had finally set upon all of us, we still immensely enjoyed the brief ride as not only did it begin to rain very hard, but also the waves kept splashing water on us aboard the small banca.

We never realized how soaked we were until after we gave the boatman a token of PHP 100 (USD 2) – he did not ask us for money- and retraced our steps back to Aling Baby’s first house on our dripping wet clothes.

Back at the house, we took turns fetching water from the ‘poso‘ to shower.  We saw a series of clotheslines immediately before the front door, so we hung all our wet belongings and tried our best to make ourselves feel at home in the cramped confines of the lower portion of the house.

The rain had turned into a drizzle by 2 in the afternoon when Balong and Johan decided to nap upstairs.  They would not come down until about 5:00 to eat some bread and the last of the ‘pancit habhab‘ neatly stored inside a plastic container.  The restaurant in Mauban had placed them in three containers, one of which I had given to Aling Baby before she left for her other house to give us some private time.  I had also given her PHP 200 (USD 4.25) so that she could “load up” on the satellite dish subscription – PHP 120 (USD 2.50) per month – for us to use the TV upstairs.

She left her two granddaughters in our care when the smaller one did not like to come to the other house with her.  The mother of the small girl, Natasha, had just left a month ago for Kuwait to work as a domestic help, while the parents of the bigger girl both worked in Manila.

Both girls were easy to babysit as they played together until the bigger one got tired and decided to nap upstairs.  So we kept little Natasha preoccupied with her toys by giving her ‘kropek‘  pieces – which she had particularly loved – whenever she got bored.

So Lelen and I spent that rainy Monday afternoon in Cagbalete island drinking one of the two 1-liter San Miguel beer bottles that blended perfectly with the ‘pancit Lukban,’ the bread, and three pieces of ‘longaniza‘ (local sausages).

Being a fanatic of any famous regional ‘longaniza‘ in the country, I had espied the sausages in one of the ‘carinderias‘ (small stalls that sell ready-to-eat, home-cooked foods) on our way back to Aling Baby’s house.  I had requested Lelen to get a few pieces while he also looked for some ice for our already warm beers.  All the while, I kept an eye on little Natasha while she played.

Throughout the time Balong and Johan had slept, there was no electricity.  Aling Baby had explained to us earlier that her house was hooked up to one of the generators operated by the municipality and that power would come up only from 6 to 10 in the evening.

Aling Baby would return a few times to the house to show us the huge squid (medium-sized by her standards) that she had bought for PHP 60 (USD 1.27)  and asked how we liked them cooked.  She then checked to make sure the TV now worked.  She also ensured we were hooked up with the boatman, Sergio, who would take us on a tour of Cagbalete island tomorrow.

Day 2 – Feb. 16, 2016 – (Tuesday): Going Around Cagbalete Island

The effects of the sleeping tablet wore off, and I was up at 4:30, only to find myself alone inside the mosquito net that Lelen and I shared. I strapped on my foot brace and gingerly scaled down the three steps of wood that made up the stairs and saw him already prepared for another day.

Power was still off inside the house, and it was partially dark outside, but the lights were still on in the alley next to the house, illuminating the house while I prepared a cup of instant coffee.  Last night, before we slept, Aling Baby’s youngest daughter had brought a Thermos jug with hot water and cups for the purpose.

After the caffeine took its effect on me, the two of us decided to see the beachfront at first light and did not bother to wake up the newlyweds.  Again, along the way, some of the stores were already selling bread and cooked food, and we found the ‘chicken adobo‘ inside a glass showcase simply too tempting.  It was PHP 30 (USD 1.76) per order and would go well with a few cups of hot rice at PHP 10 (USD 0.21) per. We noted the place and reminded each other to pick up a few orders on our way back from the beachfront.

We took many pictures of life on Cagbalete Island at early dawn: the fishermen tending their boats and fishing nets, an old lady propped on a concrete wall scanning the horizon, a few workers of the resort owned by the mayor of Mauban sprucing up their beachfront, a middle-aged person getting his therapy piling up white sand upon his legs and a few locals just walking along, preparing for the new day.

I wished I could have the best of both worlds as I admired and absorbed all the beautiful natural surroundings before me, and I almost cried.  I had seen more beautiful ocean views in the Americas but had never relished wading in their cold waters.  Here, it was just too perfect.

We headed back to the house at 6:45 and found Matthew already having coffee and the light inside the house back on.  Lenlen returned to the ‘carinderia’ for the rice and ‘adobo,’ which we all had for breakfast, along with the ‘adobong pusit‘ (stewed squid) that Aling Baby had prepared.

After breakfast, I informed Aling Baby that we would not spend the second night in the house because we wanted to experience the other side of the island but would still pay her our agreed-upon two-night fee. We also told her we might stay at Villa Cleofas as planned.  She offered to cook our meals for us, so she gave her cell phone number on a piece of paper that I hastily shoved in the back pocket of my swimming shorts.

While we waited for Sergio, a vendor dropped by to sell big clams inside two plastic bags for PHP 20 (USD 0.43), so we bought them and handed them over to Aling Baby.

Sergio, – whom locals called “Momo” – arrived before 8:00.  We walked a much shorter route to the port where his ‘banca‘ – “Choktaw” – was moored.  He and his apprentice guide toured us through the various points of interest on the island, namely:

• The “Sandbar”  – a narrow piece of land covered in white sand that jutted out even at high tide where mangroves abound.  We saw several huts for rent, but they were all empty that day.

The “Ilog” (River) – an area on the island where salt and fresh water meet. We counted eight (8) fiberglass fish pens in the area, which, according to Sergio, could hold up to 1000 ‘bangus‘ (milkfish) fry per breeding.  There would be three (3) breedings per season, and a good harvest in a season could well pay off the initial start-up costs.

• The Snorkel area – we swam and snorkeled in this deeper area where corals and colorful fishes could be found for almost an hour.

• “Bonsai Island” is not an island but simply a portion of a reef that shows up during low tide.  Two small mangrove patches are interspersed with a few dead ones on the reef, hence the name.  Situated directly across Villa Cleofas, it would not be presumptuous to assume that the owners could have given the spot the name to add a little mystique and attract patrons to Cagbalate.

Locals would always be delighted to tell you the story about the cargo ship, loaded with sacks of flour, that crashed into the reef and how the entire population of the island had fresh bread and pancakes for a very long period of time after the disaster.

It was almost 11:00 when Sergio dropped us off at Villa Cleofas so that we could check out the place.  We informed a woman inside the restaurant that we wanted to see the cottage we saw online that cost PHP 1500 (USD 32).  We passed by a group of tourists in two tents as she led us to the far end of the resort and showed us the 10 x 20-foot room with a single bed and a very thin mattress.

We decided to look for another place after she told us that we would also have to pay PHP 500 (USD 10.64) extra for the electricity -from 6 PM to 6  only- since we were the only guests that would occupy a cottage that night.  Mat and Johan volunteered to check out the other resorts north of the island, including Villa Noe.

An hour had passed, but the pair had not returned, so I asked Lelen to look after our things while I took a leisurely walk along the white sands, hoping to encounter them along the way.  I walked past a camping-only resort, then an empty but fenced area before Joven’s Blue Sea Beach Resort’s nice bamboo & nipa-made cottages and clean surroundings attracted my attention.

Although the resort was empty that day, I checked out the cottage that was being cleaned to see how it looked inside.  Impressed, I picked one –Sampaguita– beside the bathrooms.  I informed Mat and Johan, who saw me while I negotiated with one of the resort’s attendants on their way back, that I had already agreed to the same cost of PHP 1500 for a night’s stay here — electricity included.

We had a very late lunch of “pork liempo” with extra servings of rice (PHP 520 or USD 11) in the resort’s restaurant immediately after we had rested, showered, and settled down in our newly found home for the night.

Sergio and his apprentice showed up a few hours later and accompanied us to that much-hyped ‘Bonsai Island,’ which was very visible during low tide and which we found to be unimpressive at all.

They must have sensed our disappointment with ‘Bonsai Island,’ so Sergio promised they would pick us up again at 6:00 the next morning to show us another ‘ilog‘ as we returned to the resort.

It was already dark when we got back to Joven’s, but our spirits were all buoyed up not only because the entire resort was all lit up but also because Aling Baby had brought us some food for dinner!  In our absence, she had dropped off the dish of “sotanghon” (vermicelli mixed with the clams that we had bought in the morning and sautéed in onions and slivers of ginger), rice, plastic spoons, and the Thermos bottle.

After dinner, Mat and Johan put up the mosquito nets and were asleep by ten while Lelen and I ordered four San Miguels (PHP 45 or USD 0.96 per) from the restaurant.  I lit up a ‘katol‘ (mosquito repellent coil) and placed it under the bamboo table to fend off the buggers while we drank our beers until Len decided to call it a day after he had emptied his second bottle.

I did not sleep until 12:30 AM after I had written a few pages in my notebook about what had transpired on that wonderful day on Cagbalete Island.

Day 3 – Feb. 17, 2016 – (Wednesday): Leaving Cagbalete Island

Lelen was already out walking along the shore as I prepared my 3-in-1 coffee mix at 5:30. The electricity would be out in half an hour, but I wasn’t worried since I had charged all the batteries for the camera while I wrote in my notebook last night.

The newlywed woke up an hour later while Sergio and his buddy showed up at the resort after about another hour and brought along the 1.3 kilograms of ‘alimango’ (blue crab) as well as several pieces of smaller crabs local to the island that he had placed inside a big plastic water bottle.  I ordered them last night, and they cost PHP 400 (USD 8.50) per kilo for the blue crab and PHP 100 (USD 2.13) for the small ones.  I also handed over the PHP 1500 (USD 32) boat fee we owed him and his apprentice for yesterday’s island tour.

The morning was crisp, and while the sun had barely colored the horizon, there were a few wispy clouds as we headed south toward the ‘other blog.’  We all glanced at the resort manager as she sat on a chair, a cup of brew in hand, communing with nature as we passed.

Half a kilometer after we passed by Villa Cleofas, the shore inclined a bit, and we noticed more vegetation in the area. Immediately after Sergio showed us the ‘hidden’ swimming pool (actually a swamp) where a lonesome carabao sat nearby, we came to a stop at a gap where a passageway of freshwater funnels out to the bay that seemed to split Cagbalete island into two.

We explored the mangrove-lined banks for almost an hour. We concluded that the area must be very popular with campers as we saw a few items that only visitors of Cagbalete island could have brought: empty bottles, cookie and candy wrappers, some shoes and a sandal missing their pairs, and an assortment of various colored nylon ropes left hanging on the bushes.

It was 9:00 when we returned to Joven’s to prepare for our trip home.  We opted to take the last boat ride to Sabang to enjoy the lunch that Aling Baby had prepared for us.  Sergio had promised earlier to pick us up at exactly noon.

Just like last night, from her house near the well, Aling Baby brought everything we needed to ensure a memorable brunch before we left Cagbalete Island.

She laid out a modest feast for us that included a big pot of steamed rice, the day’s catch, ‘timbungan‘ (goatfish), fried and presented on banana leaves, and all ingredients to make a sumptuous dipping sauce.

Sergio arrived on time, and amidst the din of the banca‘s engine, all of us remained silent during the brief ride back to Sabang.

And back to where it all started.