Conquering Mount Pinatubo, Among Other Things

Per the request of Brice -- a French friend whom I've met quite recently, but have grown to love immensely -- our friends and I booked ourselves a trip to Pinatubo as his last hurrah, as his three-month stay comes to an end. 

Of course, we oblige. After all, the guy has been nothing short of a sweetheart, and it was such a pleasure to have him. It was too short of a stay, but it's been a good run.

Pinatubros!

Other than that, I am often disappointed by how much of the Islands I haven't explored, despite being a homegrown Filipino. There was always some excuse not to do things -- brought about mostly by the people around me -- but now that I've pooled up resources and smarts, I see no excuse not to do it now.

And I'm afraid I've caught a bad bug, but I'll save that for another time.

===

We got in touch with RJTours.ph, as recommended by friends from Chalk Magazine, who gave RJ Tours rave reviews as a service. I am inclined to do the same, because they did make the trip so easy, and they did treat us very well. 

They picked us up at 5 AM, at our designated meet-up point. It was dark on the way out, but I did catch the sunrise. I missed out on everything else, as I was running on 2 hours of sleep from the night before.

By 7 AM, we had arrived at Base Camp -- Alvin's Homestay -- where we were greeted by Alvin, himself. Being a homestay, naturally, they would be accommodating, and have a warm, familial feel about the place. We were served breakfast, coffee, his dogs, his sleepy cat, and a couple of eagles. Yes, eagles. 

After breakfast and signing our lives away on waivers, we were off! 

Of course, I chose the red 4x4. It wasn't the most comfortable ride, but driving over all that volcanic rock, you really don't expect any other ride to be. I suppose our car's lack of suspension and jeepney-type parallel seating didn't help, but it is what it is. You'll only have to do it once... in your life. (There's still the trip back, so maybe twice today.) And if you've seen Mad Max Road Fury, I will say that it was exciting because it reminded me so much of the movie. "I live! I die! I live again!"

More than anything, I was surprised that the nausea that I normally get from bumpy rides did not act up. Like Penelope Cruz's character in Woman on Top, I have terrible motion sickness, unless I am in control (of the vehicle). But that is besides the point.

As you can imagine, the scenery of Crow Valley Canyon was dynamic in texture and color. There were wide planes of lahar, set against a background of green and ash mountains. Rocks came in varied colors, testament to the richness of minerals in the area. The rocks and the creeks that trickled through them were so ferrous, they looked like rivers of blood.

We arrived at the foot of the trek site, 28 kilometers away, about an hour and a half later. After settling our shaken heads, stomachs, and legs, we immediately began our trek. Apparently, there was a new trail that had opened up, which would take all of 30 minutes. This is the longest trail they offer now, and of course we took it; the Senior Citizen trail (this exists) was not an option. 

And then we arrived to this magnificent view:

I was awed by the view, obviously, but also by its significance. When Pinatubo erupted in 1990, I remember waking up in my house in Pasig City, and our floors were covered in volcanic ash. And now here I was, 25 years later, at the mouth of an historic volcanic eruption whose reach was so widespread and powerful that it helped patch up the ozone layer, and cooled global temperatures by 3 degrees. That's an amazing thought.

On another note, when I say that RJ Tours treated us well, I mean it. I was told that they would provide all of our food and refreshments, but coming from a Production background, I've always had low expectations of packed meals. But check this out: all that rice, 3 hearty pieces of super tender roast beef, veggies, and the best banana I've ever had. Plus, sturdy utensils. Nothing fancy or anything, but I am nothing but full of appreciation.

===

Perhaps it was because I was running on adrenaline to compensate for my lack of sleep, or caffein, or because I was surrounded by all that nature, or all those things combined, but I was so happy yesterday.

Of course, it brought up some points for reflection, as what I seem to be so keen on doing these days. Especially now, as I am at such a significant turning point in my life, I think of so many things, and try to dig up whatever truth I can from my experiences.

Being a speck in the vastness of Crow Valley Canyon, and looking out at its overwhelming size, it came upon me that you could be a free radical at the moment, but any direction you choose to go will take you somewhere, eventually. Hopefully, it will be where you need to be. I will be the first to admit that at this point, I am spinning around in circles, trying to figure out which way to go. Although I am narrowing down which directions seem viable, and looking at paths which might seem barren now, but show some semlance of promise for greener pastures. It doesn't make me any less nervous; in fact, it is giving me cold feet being so close to having to make a decision. But I'm going to have to move, and I'm going to have to do it soon.

On another note, it was at this very moment during the trek, when I took this photo was when it also dawned on me that the whole time I was hopping from rock to rock with my head downcast, my eyes sharply watching out for any loose ones that might cause me to lose my footing. Although I was agile with my footwork, all I could really see were my feet, which is not exactly what I came to enjoy the great outdoors for. We are often caught up with looking out for rocks to either skip, to avoid a problematic slip; or rocks that are stable enough to step on. So much thought goes on into what it takes to move forward. So much so, that we forget to look up and appreciate the bigger picture -- where you are, where you came from, what you are working towards. There is life all around you, and it flows freely, while you stand there whether, holding out, watching out or stepping out for your next move. You've already elevated yourself from the foot of the mountain. It will only be a matter of time until you get to the top. Just keep going. But remember to look up.

The end of our trip brought us back to Alvin's, where I was told the story of Fultro. He is a wild eagle, which an Aeta brought to Alvin for some care after he was left bloodied, with a broken wing. Because of this, Fultro has been grounded, and unable to fly. But has that robbed him of his true nature, his wilderness? No. Here he is, devouring what's left of the serpent he caught earlier in the day.

And that is Invictus, William Ernest Henley's words brought to life:

Out of the night that covers me,

      Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

      For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

      I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

      My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

      Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

      Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

      How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

      I am the captain of my soul.

===

At this point, I will continue to explore different directions. Some may seem barren for now; others might seem to flourish from the onset. Either way, I wouldn't really be able to tell until I explore them further. But what can I offer? How do I go about it? Can I endure the journey?

But I suppose you never really know your power until you are put to the test. Pinatubo is not my first mountain, nor will it be my last. However, it is the one that has taught me the truth of being so good at being who and what you are, that your fire, greatness, and beauty will be spewing out from the deepest of your cores, and the world cannot help but stop, stand back and behold it. 

Reflections: The Mirrors of Myanmar

Normally, I have to think long and hard, and consider too many factors before I can commit to a travel invitation. But I was presented with the opportunity to go to Myanmar, and I could not pass up the chance. I believe my exact words were, "Fuck it, let's go."

I suppose I was so ready to go on this trip because, more than the thrill and the wanderlust, I have been yearning for that overwhelming feeling of something greater than myself, which, I've realized on the different degrees of my solo excursions, I get from traveling.

First, the journey. If you've never been there, here is an idea: A shoestring budget, limited time and unpredictable airline circumstances will create you a monster of an Amazing Race experience, if you'd like to imagine being on the show.

We flew from Manila at 7 AM, stopped with a 5 hours layover at Kuala Lumpur, and then landed at Yangon at around 7 PM (Myanmar time). Air Asia had rescheduled our flights to a later time than we had anticipated, so we had no choice but to deal with very little wiggle room. It took us literally 10 minutes to zip through all the other tired passengers on our flight, charm our way through Immigration, and have money changed to Kyat (the local currency). Why the rush? Well, we had to catch a sleeper bus, which was leaving at 8 PM, which was at a bus station not so far away, but with Yangon rush hour traffic, we were kind of pushing it. I may have bitten off a quarter of a nail from panic. We made no arrangements to lodge in Yangon.

After wading through all foliage of cars, people, puddles, and mud, clearly the bus hadn't left us. We sat ourselves in our surprisingly comfortable, fully-reclining seats, and woke up in Bagan at 5 AM, the next morning. If you've kept up, and are doing the math, that was 24 hours of being en route, alone.

Two full days of temple running in Bagan, and put the whole process in reverse (and barely 45 minutes, amidst a very complicated system of connecting flights at the KL airport), and that was the whole, arduous, exhausting, heart-pounding, trip.

No kidding, I lost 3 lbs. 

Clearly, Myanmar was beautiful. I loved it all -- 

its flavors, odors, and colors; 

the heat of its air, and the chill of its people; 

Its abundance of culture, and its absence of noise;

the humility of its monks, and the pride of its pagodas.

But of the many things that this trip was to me, it was mostly --

An Exercise in Detachment

For the cosmopolitan Manileña, it is difficult to comprehend having to go 24 hours without showering, or brushing your teeth (which should be simple and quick enough to do). But we really just did not have enough time to get any of these done. A superficial concern, I know. But consider the very image-conscious/-driven industry which sustains my livelihood, where I drown in messages of vanity and gloss. I've been a slave to it long enough to say that "looking cute" is an imposed priority.

But we were running through airports, unbrushed, unshowered, uncombed. And it was great.

Firstly, I like not having to put make-up on -- big words for someone who used to be a makeup artist. I no longer want to care about who cuts my hair -- big words for someone who has spent over 10 years with the same hairstylist, and whose mane is indicator by which she is spotted in a crowd. There is not another party that I feel the need to go to where I have to dress up to impress anyone -- big words for an events planner.

We observed the Buddhist monks. They live on nothing much but their robes and prayers. While they roam the city for food, I live a life of numbing excess -- I have more of everything than I know what to do with. Has it made me happy? Is there joy in suffocation?

When traveling, you are afforded the very special privilege of being self-reflective without looking at a mirror. You are alone with yourself, at your own devices, to face your own demons. You have not the time nor the facilities to care about appearances. And running through airports, riding through dust, falling from a bike on a dirt road -- It was such a welcome change, and for someone who is commencing the next chapter of her journey towards self-discovery, this concern in valid. I can drop the facade; strip off the masks of makeup, gloss, smoke, mirrors, and all my guards.

That brings me to a question of authenticity. Who am I, underneath it all? My passions (or are they past times?) dwell relatively on the surface. But, what drives me? What do I live for? When all the noise shuts off, what does my heart ache for? What's it going to take for me to fight for it? What is my truth? I am determined and excited to find out who I will discover within myself after I've rid myself of all my forged, but ultimately unnecessary attachments. 

An Exercise in Patience
One of the most notable things that I took away from Myanmar is: as beautiful as it is, it is HOT. It is sweltering. We went to tour Bagan on bicycles, and the wind blowing against our faces felt like we were standing in front of a fire. We also noticed that the cars that drove past us, all had their windows rolled down. Outside of the hotels, there is no air conditioning. And there were no electric fans anywhere in the middle of the desert. I asked our cab driver, Theung, why this was so. All he did was shrug and say, "There is no need for it," which was both much less and much more of a response than I expected. It was such a simple, ready answer, but it bore the full weight of all the "problems" that really don't need to be.

Not that I had any right to complain; I come from the tropics. I learned a long time ago that complaining will get you nowhere. Especially if it is the heat that you're complaining about. You will never hear me complain about the heat. In some ways, Myanmar has it better than Manila, because at least over there, it isn't humid. But that's besides the point. What good is complaining going to do?

I will be the first to admit that I am quite impatient. Being that my world is frenetic, I sometimes have no choice but to rush. Alas, instant gratification is an addiction.

In the same vein of Detachment, and having not wont for material possessions, is the value of Patience -- accepting situations as they are, and allowing them the time and the space to unfold. So what if it is a little hot? Not everybody has the privilege of adjusting their indoor climate.

Don't get me wrong: I don't denounce pro-activity. I do take pride in being able to take the reigns of situations and adjusting them according to my liking and comfort. The point that I mean to drive at is that when situations are uncomfortable, instead of fighting it, take reign over the factors that you do have some control over, let the rest happen naturally, and take a learning away from the experience.


===

Admittedly, these are difficult pills for me to swallow. Only because it will require such a drastic shift away from who I believe I used to be -- my priorities, my beliefs, my daily habits, my world views. Being at a personal crossroad, the constant battle these days is between fighting and free-falling -- Which battles will you fight, and which do you walk away from? Which leaps will you jump, and which falls will you take?

The irony is that the absence of literal and figurative mirrors is possibly the most effective catalyst to self-discovery. That begs the question of whether or not who you seem is, in fact, who you are. Is it? The resolution is to perhaps cultivate a mindset that is less concerned about how things seem, and leave room to just let them be. Put the mirror down. Let nature run the show.

Solo in Siquijor

Note that the environment that I call home is relatively restrictive. Manila is, for the most part, gray with concrete and smog, and offers little easy respite for the weary. True, a lot goes on, but this jaded Manileña can only make her rounds so many times. Compounded with parents who over-worry, I think it it was only a matter of time that my enclosures start to feel like cages, and I know why the caged bird sings.

As a small act of rebellion, I booked myself a roundtrip ticket to Siquijor. Technically, I'd fly to and from Dumaguete, but the destination was Siquijor. By myself.

Don't get me wrong: I've traveled alone before, but to places where I would have a relative's house as home base, and into territory that my parents are familiar with. This is my first "out of nowhere" trip (i.e random, baseless, without agenda), which I've done absolutely on my own -- that I financed, researched, planned, fulfilled, and completed with my own money, courage, and wit.

I had gotten to the point where there was an unbearable feeling of inadequacy that I have from not being free to test my mettle. And how unfair, because most of these factors are merely circumstantial. Hence, an overwhelming pressure to do things that inspire me, and to be more amazing; obviously, lately, I feel as though I am not. I could use more of an education on the ways of the world, more so than what I have under my belt today.

And so, I did it!

Overall, it was a wonderful experience! I feel empowered by it, and encouraged to do it more, and often.

I got on my Cebu Pacific flight to Dumaguete at 6 AM, and arrived at approximately 7 AM. I took a 15 minute tricycle ride to Dumaguete's Sibulan port, and then got on the earliest available roro (barge) to Siquijor. There is an option to take a fast craft, but I don't do well on boats, so the slower, steadier, open-air roro was going to be less problematic for my sensitive stomach. The fast craft would have taken 45 min-1 hour; the roro took me an hour and a half. A small price to pay for the assurance of not vomiting.

By around 11 AM, I had made it to Tori's Backpackers Paradise in San Juan, where I roomed in a dorm, along with five other people. The couple who owns it -- Tomas (a Czech) and his wife, Ria (a Filipina) run a steady hostel, and make you feel right at home. And the food was great! I had some of Tomas' Czech Goulash with dumplings, which I thought was perfect comfort food after a long day of running about.

Tori's Backpackers Paradise

I had put together a detailed itinerary for my trip, but as soon as I got there, it was obvious that I wasn't going to follow it. I rented a scooter, for Php 350/day, (not a bad price, but if you ask the right people, you can get it down to Php 150) plus gas at Php 50/liter, and ticked off all my noted locations one by one. I even managed to add a couple more of side trips.

In one afternoon, I hit both the Old Enchanted Balete Tree, and Cambugahay Falls. The balete tree is about a half hour scooter ride to the east of San Juan. You can expect to pay a very small fee of Php 5, and a donation, if you like.

Old Enchanted Balete Tree, known in Filipino folklore to be the home of fairies and dwarves

A fish foot spa, at the Old Enchanted Balete Tree site

Another half hour away, eastward, are the three tiers of Cambugahay Falls. In October 2014, some locals volunteered to be guides, and unofficially act as watch guards over guests personal belongings. The amount of people that go there make it difficult to keep track of everyone, and everything, and things get stolen. It was apparently a good idea to go in the afternoon, because when I got there, there were only ten of us tourists, at most (not including the locals).

Cambugahay Falls

I assigned Day 2 to be exclusively for the beach. Again, I headed east of San Juan, and about 2 hours later, I arrived Salagdoong Beach. I had heard that this was a developed area, but I had imagined a longer stretch of swimmable beach, and less people. I suppose I would have enjoyed it more if I had gone during a low season.

Salagdoong Beach

I headed 45 minutes southeast, and found myself in the secluded Kagusuan Beach. I liked it here so much, I came back the day after. Some locals, who were there for a picnic, made friends with me. Even for a Filipino, I am amazed by how friendly the Siquijor locals are! Is it my cosmopolitan upbringing? I don't remember it being like this in the other parts of the Philippines that I've visited.

Locals that I made friends with at Kagusuan Beach

The day after, I thought I'd drive up to Mt. Bandilaan. Oh Lord, what was I thinking. It was manageable, but for most of the drive, I was alone on the road! It got pretty steep at times, and some segments of the road were either not yet paved, or under construction. One particular section closer to the foot of the mountain was both steep and unpaved, and I did have difficulty managing it on the way up. It had the potential to be problematic on the way down. 

Anyway, I went up there to check out a Healing Festival, which is an annual event, and held for 4 days during Holy Week. I found booths were different kinds of healers camped out to offer their services. Later during the day, I was told that these are "commercial" healers, and that the legitimate ones are found in the forrest. 

"Gayuma"

Later, I ran into a fellow dormer -- a Hungarian named Peter, and together, we managed to squeeze in another site. Lugnasan Falls is only 10 minutes away from Tori's, and is smaller in area than Cagbuhayan, but slightly higher and equally majestic.

Lugnasan Falls

Salamat lagi, Siquijor!

I could have stayed another day, just to get everything out of the way. Siquijor is a relatively small place; you can round out the island in a day, if you wanted to. And really cheap, too! For everything, including lodging and flights, I may have only spent less than Php 6,000.

Along the way, I picked up a couple of things:

1. I am completely capable of managing entirely on my own, despite others thinking otherwise.
   I live a life wherein everything is pretty much handed to me. Not that I am complaining, but I've always hungered for reality. A lot of my frustrations at this stage in my life have come from struggling to prove that I am smarter and more capable than what I've been given the chance to. For this, I am grateful, for it leads to more, and grander dreams that I am now sure that I can accomplish. I have barely scratched the surface of my capacities, but the jump is always the most daunting part of the dive. And I fully intend to dive blindly, and head-first from hereon out. Nothing can stop me now.
2. When traveling alone, you are at the mercy of yourself, and of others. 
   I had no one to baby me and give me anything and everything I either needed or wanted during this trip. I had to figure everything out for myself, and that included a LOT of planning, and convincing my parents to let me do it. There were times when even I was not sure about how I was going to manage. But, before anybody else can be convinced, I myself had to be. It requires mental resilience and determination on my part to even conceptualize the whole thing, let alone fulfil it successfully. I was at my own mercy, but I trusted myself despite my demons.
   
   Obviously, when you travel, you don't do it in a vacuum. On the one hand, you travel because you want to expand your knowledge of places and people. On the other hand, there are some real dangers (and there were), the chances of which are exacerbated because I am a girl.
   
   However, I honestly would not have been able to manage as well as I did without the help of strangers. I relied heavily on this, being forced to assume that they might be willing to help at the minimum, and trust that they are good people at best.
   
   Turns out, you can't trust everybody, but you can't not trust anybody. There are more good people than there are who will take advantage of your vulnerability.
3. Vulnerability invites the world.
   When traveling in a group, you get comfortable, and don't necessarily have the opportunity to lay your defenses down enough to meet new people. Even if you do, you could get lost in the shuffle and miss out on genuine connections.
   
   Going it alone afforded me the vulnerability to meet, and personally converse (often in depth) with so many people whom I would not be able to meet, otherwise.
   
   I'm generally a pretty friendly girl who does not have qualms about striking up a conversation with a stranger (depending on their demeanor). Holding one up is a different story. On the other hand, people don't normally initiate conversation with me because, so I have been told, that I am quite intimidating. But being by myself proved to be a different experience. I could be sitting by myself on a secluded beach, and little girl will come up to me to ask for my, name, and where I am from. She and her friends will gather around me, and as me genuinely inquisitive questions, born out of a sincere interest in the new and different.
   
   That being said --
4. Adopt a sincere interest.
   Being a citizen of Manila, I'll admit that I've developed a mindset of believing that everyone here as pretty much the same story. Obviously, this is far from correct, but it seemed that way for a very long time. And I got complacent.
   
   More than places and things, I need to develop a sincere interest in people again, and dig deep enough to recognize the delicate nuances among them.
   
   Often, what holds me back is fear -- to be rejected, or that I might be inadequate to continue what I've started (which seems to be a recurring pattern in my life story), but I must trust that I myself may be someone worth getting to know. Keeping that in mind, I must accompany that with the thought that these people might be vulnerable, too. And it really wouldn't hurt to be the first to extend a hand.
5. Be present.
   Being mindful of surroundings -- of people, and places, and the life that transpires between the two. Also, be actively participative in people's lives. Come out from the wings, and take the stage. Assuming a passive role does not make memories out of you. What is enthralling about being in the background? Contribute. Say something. Say yes! 

I had intended on writing separately about birthday resolutions, but they've all seemed to blend in together. Regardless, they all come from the same place -- the pieces of walls that I break down, which have barricaded this free spirit for much too long.

Tagaytay, April 18-20

I don't call myself a photographer, although I do enjoy taking pictures and "capturing moments" often. Especially on my travels. But what's new about that, right? What is the truth in a pretty flower, apart from its perfect face? 

So instead of just the pretty, I've been working on telling stories with the pictures I take. I am an admitted fledgling to the craft, but I've achieved at least the tip of my iceberg goal. 

In case you aren't familiar, here is a sneak preview to my country. A recent trip to Tagaytay, in particular, to celebrate my aunt's birthday. The moon was brilliant one night, and the market was ripe with fruit. Children will do what they need to survive, but not without affording an occasional smile.

Man-made Bitches at Man-made Beaches

For our 2nd annual summer trip, my girls Max, Meg and I hopped on a plane to wreak havoc on Cebu. And wreak havoc, we did with these two unrepentantly getting their freaks on! 

Manila at midnight

The Lords of Laguna

The family went to a festival in Santa Cruz, Laguna about a week ago to check out their local produce. There's some brilliant stuff over there, a favorite being the shoes from a few towns over; Liliw is the best place for cheap and trendy, but very well-made shoes. I'll take pictures of the pairs that I got in the new blog that I'm planning to birth. Watch out for it!

Sophia, my goddaughter, doing "The Mita," which means her imitating her grandmother. There is "The Abi" also, but that's for another photo.

Soshe, my cousin. He is set to be my godson on May 1st.

A fine Laguna product - University of the Philippines, Los Banos

Arabela's, a quaint cafe whose reputation is inverse in relation to their low ceilings.