Posted at 9:53 am by Gelene Celis, on March 17, 2024
My family immigrated to Toronto, Canada on March 9, 2001.
I remember looking at the weather report before our flight and seeing a negative sign (-) before the “1” on the Celsius. I processed that it was minus 1 but I didn’t believe my logic, thinking there must be another explanation. “No, it’s below 0°C. The temperature there right now is below 0,” said my mother as we watched from our television in Quezon City, Metro Manila.
“What the fuck? What does that even feel like?” I thought.
I wore jeans, a long-sleeved shirt and brought one of those puffy jackets that my aunt had sent in from New York (she’s already been living there for about 5 years or so by the time we got the papers to bounce). I wore it in the Philippines and immediately started sweating. I thought that must be more than enough because it was so thick and insulated. I was proven wrong when we landed.
Before we arrived, however, we were bombarded with in-flight ads for antidepressants and I remember thinking, “WTF? Is it that bad out here? I thought these people were living better lives and here we are getting away from a developing country. Aren’t these guys a major key player nation? I don’t get it.” I didn’t get it until I got depressed myself, for years. Right around the time I started healing, I realized that the problem wasn’t depression; it’s spiritual poverty.
But I didn’t know that yet when I tested the stinky, puffy jacket once we landed. As we waited for our ride, I decided to wear the jacket and momentarily step outside to get a feel of -1°C. Once I stepped out, I couldn’t move. I was so cold. I remember not wanting my skin to touch my clothes which turned ice cold. I counted down from 10 to -1 before I mustered the courage to run back to the airport.
I remember seeing the piles of snow, neatly tucked and mounded on the lawn areas in the suburbs. I knew snow didn’t fall like that but I couldn’t understand then how the city managed to “organize the snow.” The Philippines doesn’t nearly have the budget nor the kind of facilities and technology to be ready for such things. I’ve only ever lived in Southeast Asia before then so I couldn’t fathom these ideas at the time.
Fast forward 23 years later, I went back to the motherland a very different person and then went back to Toronto afterward, also a little different.
One of the first things I did when I arrived back in Toronto was dispose of about a third of my wardrobe and several other items. I’ve been holding on to them thinking that they might, eventually, be useful but it’s been years since I even bothered interacting with these things. It just didn’t make any sense anymore.
After living off a backpack and a personal bag item for a month, constantly on the road (or on a flight or on a boat), interacting with locals and indigenous tribes who live richer lives with much less, I realized how much bullshit, nonsense, and excess I have allowed to accumulate in my life.
I brought a 45-liter hiking backpack (any larger and I would’ve needed to check it in which I was avoiding), a small sling bag, and a foldable water-resistant bag that I packed in. I didn’t have room to bring my own wetsuit, unfortunately (it’s just more comfortable for me plus rental ones tend to be worn out like a 3mm wetsuit ends up feeling like a 1mm or less lol) but I did manage to pack a GoPro with an underwater housing with some accessories, a dive mask, and my dive watch.
I actually overpacked. Imagine that lol.
Here’s a good chunk of my luggage: – 5 tops (tank and shirts) – 4 bottoms (all shorts) – 4 pieces of bras (I used my bikini tops as bras sometimes) – 6 underwear – 7 pairs of socks (thinking that I’ll be sweating all the time but then I got there and I didn’t wanna wear closed shoes – I wore sandals the entire time and only used my sneakers in the plane to and from Canada). I got rid of 5 of them during the middle of the trip (donated to hotel staff) – 3 bikini tops, 3 bikini bottoms – sandals (order true to size as I ordered half a size larger and it was a little too big) – toiletry bag – money belt (the type you can hide under your clothing) – GoPro accessory bag with the camera and some of the accessories (half of which I didn’t use)
I wore a sweater and a t-shirt with capri pants for the flight to and from Toronto. I never used capri pants when I was in the country (too hot that I just wore shorts) and I only ever used the sweater when I was in the mountains. It took up so much space it was a hassle. I did laundry a total of about 3 times in a month… and no, I didn’t bring a towel. Never needed to until I got to Buscalan (Whang-Od, the old lady tattooist’s village). I bought a $5 CAD / 200 PHP microfibre towel at a local mall that I was going to use for just that night.
As for being a solo female traveller: I’ve just done it so many times at this point that it wasn’t even something that I was that worried about. It’s only the second time I backpacked though, like ever, and solo. I did bring a portable door lock and someone advised me about putting some hot sauce in a spray container (brilliant) because I can’t bring pepper spray on board. I never had to use it though I kept it in hand for times when I was freaking out since I was, statistically speaking, a perpetrator’s best bet. Other than that, I was actually walking in the dark, at night, during some points in the more rural areas where people are less corrupt. The rule of thumb is that the bigger the population, the more likely you are to get ripped off. I got ripped off a total of probably about $50 CAD (2,000 PHP). In the Philippines, that can get you about 5 decent meals, public transportation for getting around in a city for a day, possibly a souvenir or two, and a pack of cigarettes.
Yes, I was smoking (again) because scuba divers smoke like fucking chimneys. I know you would think otherwise because we need healthy lungs but I suppose some rules don’t apply like how the Badjaus (indigenous peoples in Southeast Asia, some of which reside in the Philippines) are sea gypsies who spearfish while freediving in the ocean, expertly so that they have actually developed larger spleens to hold more oxygen. They, too, smoke like fucking chimneys.
“Ay yan ho mga Badjau (Oh there are the Badjaus!)” said the cab driver from one of my trips to the airport. He was pointing out to beggars during traffic. “Badjaus? Hindi po ba sila sa dagat nakatira? Sikat ho yun dun sa North America kasi nandun sila sa National Geographic. People are in awe of their abilities. (Badjaus? Don’t they live near the oceans? They’re popular in North America because they’re in National Geographic and BBC. People are in awe of their abilities,” I said.
“Ah ‘pag wala silang kita sa pangingisda, nagpupunta ho sila dito sa Maynila para malimus. Wala kasi silang alam na gawin kundi yun at wala rin silang suporta sa gobyerno. Alam naming native sila tsaka minsan nakakaawa pero napeperwisyo rin ang mga tao dito kasi tayo nagtra-trabaho at sila malaking kita sa pagmamalimos (Ah when they don’t earn anything on fishing or spearfishing, they come here to Manila to be beggars. They don’t have any other skills but that and they don’t have support from the government. We know they’re indigenous and sometimes we pity them but sometimes they’re a hassle too because we work hard and meanwhile they earn decent money on begging alone).” the cab driver replied.
Developing larger spleens to hold more oxygen is essentially the closest thing to being a mutant like X-Men or something as far as advanced genetic mutations go… and somehow, they’re beggars.
I told one of my friends about this while we were out for drinks.
Lotsa real talk with friends I haven’t seen in over a decade!
“Parang hindi accurate yung pinapakita nila sa Nat Geo/BBC, (It seems that National Geographic/BBC doesn’t paint the whole picture),” Roger said. “Yeah,” I replied. “I’m gonna write about it. People need to know.” My friend nodded in agreement.
And so my physical, mental, and emotional journey began, uncovering truths along the way, some of which, to be honest, I was not ready for but grateful to have known nonetheless.
It has been a privilege just as much as I gained more awareness of how privileged I am.
I saw some family and some old friends whom I hadn’t seen in well over a decade, some I hadn’t seen in about 25 years. Those may not be necessarily in my entries as they are the learnings for me and may be too personal to share. If I mention them, it’s because I feel there might be some universal lessons that others may pick up.
If I mention friends whom I interacted with, it’s because they were part of conversations that had a broader topic that I’d like to share.
I contacted her anyway. She’s a distant cousin like my 3rd cousin or something. We all have extended family to some degree but Filipinos keep in touch with, like, everyone. I know it’s not only me that gets lost when I go to reunions, “Oh that’s your aunt from so and so grandfather and that one is this and your nephew blah blah blah.”
I can’t keep track of these things 😵💫
I met with my friends in Manila and then onto Andrea’s condo in Quezon City, Manila.
I didn’t really know what to expect but we ended up chatting for hours. Glad to say my cousin and I hit it off! 😊
It was kinda jokes because apparently my dad gave all my family members, that I might see, a heads up, “Yeah. I told my dad that I’ve seen all kinds of things and different kinds of people at UP (University of the Philippines). I don’t have problems with you being a lesbian,” Andrea said.
“Huh? I’m not a lesbian. I’m mostly straight. I’ve only really been with a couple of women but I’m mostly straight like I’m supposedly pansexual,” I said.
“Ay! Mali! Ang sabi ng Tatay ko kakaiba ka raw! Wala ng ibang sinabi basta yun lang and it’s up to me to interpret! Kakainis! (Ay! Wrong! My dad said you were different! He didn’t mention anything else and it was up to me to interpret! So annoying!)” she replied.
We had a laugh. I’m aware of how I look like and possibly even my demeanour. I shave my head and I have a head tattoo as well as tattoos all over my body and facial mods (spacers 38mm/1.5in diameter, septum ring).
It’s been quite an interesting, inadvertent social experiment walking around looking like the way I do.
A lot of people have impressions of me just on my style alone. It spans from intimidation to fear to hate to admiration and awe.
That’s why I always say, get to know yourself first and seek internal validation vs placing too much worth on external factors. If they’re inaccurate on how they read you: it’s really more of a reflection of who they are (or their reality) than who you are and your reality.
We’re not in control of how we’re received but we can manage ourselves and how we interact with others and our environment.
It’s important to get lost in life at some point or another because sometimes that’s how we find our own path… but try not to lose yourself in the noise.
Though I guess I can’t really blame people for my resting bitch face, my tattoos, my shaved head, my piercings etc you know.
My cousin and I packed up and got ready to go to bed. Her friend was picking us up early morning and onto a 4 hour ride to San Juan, La Union.
San Juan, La Union
We stayed at Shorebeach Hostel which I loved. They kept the walls and roofing bare like without the red brick things; it was just plain cement and they furnished it with wood and other ethnic things. It gave the whole minimalist + wooden and tribal sort of furniture. I loved it. I can’t say that enough. If I had all the budget in the world, that’s how I would want my place to look like.
courtesy of Booking.com
courtesy of Booking.com
courtesy of Booking.com
courtesy of Booking.com
courtesy of Booking.com
courtesy of Booking.com
I didn’t take any good photos unfortunately so here are some from various sources (mentioned in the captions). We stayed in a double bed + single bedroom as there were three of us (first two above).
We just chilled on our arrival day and made arrangements for surfing the next day. We had to get up around 5am because we were instructed to be there at 5:30.
The beach was about a 5-minute walk from the hostel. We had some late lunch along the way at Herbs n Spice before calling it a night.
Therese and Andrea
all of us!
Surfing
Day 1
So we’re on Day 2 of being in La Union but Day 1 of surfing. We didn’t get the chance to surf the day before as there weren’t any slots on the previous day (plus we were tired from long driving).
I didn’t really know what to expect. I’ve never gone surfing before, like ever, in my life. When we got there though, we essentially just signed up and let them know our “level” which was, for me, zero.
After which, the instructors decided that the waves on the beach we were in were too big for beginners like us so they took us to another spot.
In the middle of the session (2 hours total), I started feeling my stomach sting. “Rashes! Soft board kasi kaya ka nagkaganyan (Rashes! It’s ’cause you’re riding a soft board – with texture – which is why you’re getting it),” said the instructor. He recommended rash guards… and I realized why they’re called “rash guards.” I’ve always thought it was something random 🤷🏽♀️
In any case, many falls, minor foot injuries, stomach and arms rashes, burps (I legit tasted my breakfast as I was out in the water that day), wedgies, sunburns, a few cusses, and frustrations later…
I don’t have the surf mount, unfortunately, and there wasn’t anyone who was taking our photos either so I don’t have media of the actual surfing. I can tell you that I fell plenty though. However, I did manage to get up the board and balance for about 10 seconds at the longest. I heard that’s a pretty big deal because people usually can’t even stand on the board during the first lesson so even though I failed plenty, I’m still pretty proud of myself 😎
Apparently, I was walling too? I didn’t even know what that meant but my instructor (left-most) told me I did well on the first time I managed to get up (5 seconds). I was supposedly riding to the left, avoiding the crash of the waves. I was just feeling it out and rolling my balance with it… now I know why they say “ride the waves.”
We wrapped it up and went back to the hostel. We planned on doing another session that afternoon but I passed out and Therese and Andrea just started working smh.
We ended the day by chillin’ at the beach before finding a spot to have dinner… and I found Taho! 😊
That night, we walked around the area to find something to eat. I forgot where we ended up but I defo remember the convos.
I Love You Long Time
“In 1987, the same year that the Philippines ratified its constitution and allowed the United States to retain military bases within its archipelago, the Stanley Kubrick film, ‘Full Metal Jacket’ was released. It was a critically acclaimed adaptation of a semi-autobiographical novel about an American soldier during the Vietnam war. The iconic scene features a Vietnamese sex worker saying, ‘Me so horny! Me love you long time!’ She is obviously not horny. She is poor, brown, and exotic. Holly wood really said, ‘Nevermind that brown women are caricatured, as long as the white soldier is humanized!’ In the years since, pop culture has clouded the racist roots of this phrase, where imperialism is hidden in catchy lyrics and comedic microaggressions. Along the shores of La Union, traces of an American air base linger as bars line the streets of a freeport zone. The story repeats itself wherever US troops decide to enter visa-free with impunity. Up the coast, in a small municipality heaving with local tourists, the phrase has evolved. Soon after foreign surfers retired in San Juan but before the white van joiners rolled along, Urbiztondo became the off melting pot of hardy Ilocanos, bohemian city kids, sexpats, and the occasional backpacker. I LU Long Time, now worn as a badge of honour, reframes the tourist town as a beloved neighbourhood of residents first, drawing the line between transplant and transient. It’s a lowkey flex: I eat breakfast at the sari-sari store, I don’t leave trash on the beach, I watch the sunset from my favourite board rack This is home, not a transaction. This is Love. Hindi ako pang short time (I’m not for a ‘short time’).”
for reference:
If you know me at all then you would know that I have a lot of… umm… passion, in me?
My cousin picked it up right away. I have a tendency to get fired up over social issues most likely because of my own immersive history with oppression. Don’t get me wrong: we all experience this to some degree most especially on a social level. I catch my own mental, emotional, and physical barriers being affected by these things myself.
I told them everything I knew and had come to witness: race is a big thing everywhere even when you’re living in a country inhabited by mostly its locals. I’m not going into detail on my blog though if you’re curious just reach out. You can either message me here via my Contact page or if you know me in person, I’d be down to grab some coffee or drinks and just chat.
If you have any sense of social awareness and an inkling of recent history (and what’s going on in the world today), the things you’ll hear me say shouldn’t come as too much of a shock.
Day 2
Surfing Day 2 = Day 3 (last day)
We went out to the beach that we took a trike from that morning to see if we could surf there. The instructors initially thought that we should be able to do the waves there but…
Thankfully, we didn’t end up doing it there. I was honestly a little freaked out with the waves on that beach. We went ahead and took another trike to the nearby beach with smaller waves.
“Sige. Balance ka lang. Taasan mo yung squat mo. (OK. Just balance. Squat a little higher),” said my instructor.
“Oho. Matutumba, malalaglag ako. Natututo pako. It’s part of it. Mangyayari talaga yun (Yes, sir. I’m gonna lose my balance, fall. I’m still learning. It’s part of it. It’ll happen),” I replied.
I didn’t break my astonishing 10-second record lol ’cause the waves that I was able to fully ride were short. I’m also tired AF. I forgot to eat that morning so I inhaled my siopao that I bought from 7/11 earlier that day. I also had another swim top but it had texture on it so my rashes were actually worse. I got a little complacent with sunscreen too like I didn’t bother applying it so I ended up burning my face…
It was a workout for sure; paddling, pushing yourself up, balancing, squatting, and such. DOMS kicked in within 2 hours like wtf. It was cray cray.
We still had some time before we needed to leave so we met up with some of my cousin’s friends for lunch. The couple was headed somewhere north of where we were. I thought to highlight the buko (coconut) and buko pandan ice cream 😁
We just kinda chilled before we wrapped it up.
On our way home, Therese’s HR-V (big car) GPS somehow led us to a fucking alleyway that was filled with trikes, pedestrians, stray dogs and cats, and motorbikes. I was losing my shit… but they were chillin’. Manila driving freaks me out. I don’t even use Angkas which is like Uber for motorbikes; you ride at the back with no harness or anything. You just hold on to the driver… yeah… in Manila where drivers play Tetris with space and speed on the road? Fuck that shit.
We had some lunch before we left. It was a little sad at the end. I mean, I won’t get to hang with them until at least another couple of years. Gonna miss these girls.
Therese dropped us off Andrea’s place. Andrea and I met with our other cousins later that night (they haven’t met my first cousins!) before we parted ways. Andrea was headed back to her hometown and I was headed to another town for more scuba diving.
Posted at 12:00 pm by Gelene Celis, on March 12, 2024
I originally was checking out Tubbataha Reef but it was going to be closed for when I was going to be there. A friend then told me about another UNESCO World Heritage Site (protected areas), Apo Reef, that was going to be open.
courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Yeah, so, it’s one of those things like in Malapascua where it was going to be an epic pain in the ass to get to. It’s an island kinda life and, in a sense, it’s a good thing it’s that way because otherwise, it means that it’s become so touristy and industrialized that it would lose value in its serenity.
Sablayan
A quick Google search would bring up Sablayan Divers which were one of the few dive shops that I was able locate with a set schedule. There were liveaboards but liveaboards are expensive (averaging at $4k USD/week) + liveaboards are too much: 3-4 diving/day for 5-7 days straight. I know I kinda did that in Thailand because I hadn’t gone diving in like 5 years at that point so I got a little too excited but I mean I couldn’t even get out of bed by the end of it.
Just to give you an idea of how much diving takes away from your body:
An hour of martial arts burns about 400-600 calories
A tank of diving (this can last you from 20-45 minutes depending on depth and your air consumption; the deeper you go, the more air you consume, and the more pressure it is on your body) burns about 300-500 calories. Imagine doing that 3-4x/day for consecutive days.
It’s one of those things too where you don’t feel your body is working it up until you get out of the water like why am I so tired and why am I so hungry?
Sablayan Divers were great by the way. I would highly recommend them as they really cared about the divers, were very good-natured, and they made excellent feasts!
But first, let me tell you how to get there.
I woke up at 4am and took a cab to the Manila airport to catch my flight. All I knew at that point was that I needed to get to the bus or van terminal to get to Sablayan from the airport. Online research can really only get you so far with these things as you’re going to have to rely on blogs (like mine!) or some other articles that tell you how to get there. So everything is all in theory because nothing is officially registered or set in stone. I thought I’d land there and figure it out. The first thing I did was open my Grab app which was no dice…
“Magkano? (How much?)” I asked the trike driver as I got off.
“Bahala ka na ho ma’am (It’s up to you, ma’am),” he replied. I frowned. “Huh? Di pwede yun! (Huh? We can’t do that!),” I told him.
“Isang daan ho (₱100 – about $2.50 CAD, $2 USD, €1.60).”
I happily paid him ₱100 thinking the price was more than fair… it wasn’t until later that I found out that I got super ripped off.
Once I got to the “terminal,” it didn’t really look like much of a terminal at all. I didn’t get the chance to take photos unfortunately as I was too caught up in making my way. There are no set schedules. The van or bus eventually leaves when it’s full. It was chaos; they were filling everything up including the middle aisle with makeshift and foldable seats so people who sat at the back, like myself, wouldn’t be able to get out unless everyone in front would go as well. I didn’t really have an issue with that except for two things: 1) I forgot to empty my bladder 2) The lady beside me decided to argue with the operators about the price and throw up in a fricking plastic bag while she was seated amidst all the people in the van.
Fantastic. 😒
The ride was beautiful though. It was all farmlands. Just take my word for it because I wasn’t able to comfortably take out my phone amidst the throwing up in a bag, the noise, and the funny smells… still, I have no regrets.
After 2-3 hours, I finally arrived at the terminal at Sablayan. From there, I also had no clue as to how to get to the hotel but I did see a line of trikes. Thankfully, there was phone reception here so I was able to look up where the hotel is and it was close enough to be trike-able. I shared the trike with another lady. The driver said it’s cheaper for us that way and it’s good for him too for profit.
I got off at the hotel and he charged me ₱20 for a little over a kilometre/half a mile ride. I paused. I couldn’t believe it; remember that their gas prices are the same as ours over here in North America, converted. “Bente lang (Only ₱20)?” I asked.
“Oho bente lang (Yes, just ₱20),” he replied.
I handed him ₱50 and told him to keep the change.
“Naks naman! Pamasko! (Nice! For Christmas! – it was December 21st)” he happily exclaimed.
Dear ladies, gentlemen, non-binary, and whathaveyou: if you’re going to travel around these parts, please tip service workers generously. Their minimum wage is nowhere near ours yet the cost of living is close to ours.
I checked in Sablayan Seasons Hotel which was not bad though it didn’t look nearly as luxurious as its photos. I didn’t take any photos just out of being tired and wanting to get shit done.
I was tired AF. I had to get up at 4 to take the cab to my flight, fly for an hour and a half, go on a trike ride to the bus/van terminal, go on a 2-3 hour van ride, and then trike to the hotel. When I settled my stuff in the hotel, I contacted the diveshop right away. They wanted me to come in for a fitting of the equipment and wetsuit so when I got to the hotel, I still had to go find out how to get to the shop. I was getting quotes from ₱500 (about $12 CAD, $10USD, €8) which was exorbitant because I was under the impression that it was close. As it turns out there was a misunderstanding because the vicinity where the shop was had the same name as another pier far out.
I was exhausted… but one of the things I was after in this whole trip are parol, which are Fillipino Christmas lanterns that I miss so much as they gave me much comfort as a child. I have a painting print of it back home in Toronto.
I actually have another destination specifically for these things but that one turned out to be a little more industrial.
Imagine my excitement when I saw parols right in front of my hotel.
“Sinisindihan ho ba yung mga parol (Do they light up the parol)?” I asked the security guard.
“Oho mamaya pa ho ng konti kasi umulan (Yes though it will be a little later today because it rained).” he replied.
I didn’t think I was going to make it because I was just so tired but it was too early to sleep so I walked around the plaza which, to my delight, turned out to be a cultural centre 😊
I heard some commotion at the gym and found out that there was a basketball game happening. I decided to check it out to pass the time, in hopes that my energy could make it to when they light the lanterns.
“Magkano ho entrance (How much is the entrance)?” I asked the lady who was sitting by the ticket area.
“Bente po (₱20 – about ¢.50 CAD, ¢.40 USD, ¢.30 Euro),” she replied. I handed her my payment and made my way in.
I got pretty hungry after some time so I decided to go out and get something to eat. The lanterns still weren’t lit at the time but they did have an area with street food!
At some point, the basketball court was getting filled up (good for them). It was then I decided to check out if they’d turned on the lights yet… and they did!
I wasn’t even planning on posting or saying anything about Sablayan but the sense of community really touched me 🥰
Later on, I had a conversation with Endoy, who was one of the divemasters and also a co-owner of Sablayan Divers, about it. He informed me that the parol bit of the festivities is actually a competition amongst the barangay/bario (the smallest vicinity sort of division in the Philippines, roughly translated “village”). I asked him if it was institutionally sanctioned at all and he said “Hindi. Sila sila lang dun sa Sablayan ang nag-o-organize nun (No. It’s the people in Sablayan who organize it),” he replied.
“I hope corporations don’t fucking go in there and meddle because they’re gonna ruin it,” I bitterly said. Endoy nodded his head.
They know.
I was wondering when I would feel this sense of peace in simplicity. The hotel I stayed in wasn’t luxurious at all. The hallway looked creepy as some of the lights didn’t work. It looked like it would’ve made a good location shoot for one of those subtly scary horror films like The Grudge or something as it was also quite rundown. The upper lock on my door didn’t work either as they gave me two keys but one was useless. I just didn’t bring it to the staff’s attention because it was only going to be one night and I couldn’t be bothered with the hassle. Plus, it was fine by me. I brought one of those safety lock things anyway so I used it later that night. Either way, I felt safe there. The people are even-tempered, sensible, honest, and overall chill.
I can’t tell you how much this place touched my heart. I wanted to stay a couple more nights to immerse myself more in the festivities but I was on a tight schedule. Had I known this was going to come, I would’ve planned to stay at Sablayan for at least 2-3 nights. I really wanted to stay… I mean, I wept in my room that night because I was brought back to places in my childhood when I felt like everything was going to be alright and everyone and everything was safe. Of course, as adults, we all know that’s not true even though we were all born with a clean slate. Somehow our slates get tainted along the way and before we know it, we’re essentially doing all this internal work to undo the damages we incur.
Life is hard for everyone and sometimes therapy can take on the form of being in a completely different state of mind, with modern machines as extensions of ourselves, within an environment that’s not intrinsic to us as human beings.
Sometimes that’s what it takes to revive and celebrate our inner child.
Apo Reef
I was in the shop by 6:30 the next day. I met the people who were doing the 3-day dive trip with me.
The original itinerary is as follows:
Day 1 (December 22nd): 3 dives
Day 2 (December 23rd): 3 dives
Day 3 (December 24th): 3 dives
It was 9 dives total including the tent, food, water, equipment, and everything. It was a great deal and they were an amazing crew. They were chill, and very pleasant to be around (super important you develop a working rapport with people you dive with). If you’re headed this way, I highly recommend Sablayan Divers.
7 divers (2 not in the picture including myself) + one of the local divemasters
There were 7 of us diving: myself, a French guy, a Filipino-Australian couple, a Korean guy, a Colombian guy who moved to Australia, and his Aussie girlfriend.
“You looking forward to it? I’m just wondering if there’s fresh water like how the setup would be living on an island,” I said to the Filipina-Aussie woman.
“Yes! I’m just worried about where to poo and stuff!” she replied.
I didn’t want to admit it but I thought that too.
We went on our merry way, all excited and getting comfortable in the boat, napping in random spots (the best part).
On our way to the island, we learned that we were going to do one dive before getting on the island so we started prepping.
Since I have so many videos from the dives, I just went ahead and turned it into one long edit.
Here are some highlights:
– so many sharks! We saw grey tip, white tip, and black tip. They’re actually quite timid of us and funny enough, we were the ones chasing them. They were just so elusive.
– a school of eagle rays! It was amazing! They were about 10 metres deeper than the depth we were trying to keep so I was only able to shoot it from a distance but some coordinating happened underwater as some of my mates went a bit deep to get a good shot. The Korean dude had some serious equipment. I just have a lowly starter Cressi Leonardo whereas he had this watch that he can just hook up to his divelog and it populates all the details automatically. He also had this underwater horn that was pretty loud (efficient!) and a mirror lens on his wrist (to view his mates behind him, he explained). He was really sweet; he was looking out for everyone like a divemaster would. He’s had like over 1000+ dives (we asked and he said after 1000, he stopped counting).
– giant lobsters hiding in coral holes
– turtles!
– cuttlefish
– Nemo
– Dory
– Flounder
they were all wall dives
the guy with the serious equipment and 1000+ dives
shark
It was amazing though we had a last-minute change of plans to the number of dives per day. We did 4 dives on Day 2 so we can go home early on Day 3. On the final dive, there was a strong current. I fucking hated it. We were swimming so hard to get to the wall of corals like I saw one of my mates swimming really hard but staying in one place. After 8 dives within 2 and a half days, I was done.
Diving takes a lot out of your body, “Scuba diving exposes you to many effects, including immersion, cold, hyperbaric gases, elevated breathing pressure, exercise and stress, as well as a postdive risk of gas bubbles circulating in your blood. Your heart’s capacity to support an elevated blood output decreases with age and with disease.” – Divers Alert Network
I decided to call it quits and cancel my dive. I have my own dive computer so I managed to ascend alone and we have just been in the water for about 10 minutes at that point. I kept signaling to my mates that I was okay and gesturing that I was tired. I was using up so much air and we haven’t even gone on the wall yet. I was just done. Tired. Exhausted.
Image courtesy of Dressel Divers
The divemaster gave me his diver’s buoy. I signaled “What about you?” then he pointed at the Korean guy (serious equipment dude) and signaled okay because he had a buoy that they could use. My mates then went ahead while I did my pit stop (3 minutes). It was kinda creepy because the visibility was bad on shallow areas so I was in the middle of the ocean with a blurry view of the ocean floor and nothing to see on all sides. I thought to take a video but I was too busy trying to ascend safely.
I didn’t have a horn or a whistle or anything so when I got to the surface, I had to keep waving the buoy until the boat crew saw me and sailed towards me.
When my mates finally ascended, I asked them if they saw anything special. Apparently, just one tuna fish, and I’m like… cool. I wouldn’t have wanted to work for that. The dude with the serious equipment was telling me that I needed to descend further down, like on the floor, for when the current was strong so we could swim under it. I kinda knew that but I was just done.
Living on an island for 3 days and 2 nights is a whole experience in itself. Like my mate, I was a little concerned over the washrooms but I surprisingly was able to do my business every day. Two of our mates though didn’t poo the entire time. I don’t know how they did that, drinking coffee each morning and diving, compressing our bodies. 😂
“‘Pag inulan tayo, tatakbo na lang tayo ‘dun (If it rains, we’ll just run over there),” he said pointing to the building. The building was something the government was working on because they wanted to make a bustling spot out of the island but it never happened so now it’s just an abandoned place. It’s where the washrooms are.
I just kinda shrugged off his comment, thinking it won’t rain. That night, however, I started feeling some drizzle and then the winds got strong. I had to get up and hold the tent and I thought it would only last for 15 minutes. When it didn’t, I finally looked out and saw the staff helping out one of the other divers and that’s when I knew it was serious and that we were going to make a run for it.
It was stressful AF. I mean, I had my stuff laid out in the tent and everything plus I was half asleep. When the crew finally came around to my tent, I hastily grabbed my stuff and shoved it in my backpack. They took the tent and I carried my stuff along with some of the bedding. It was so dark especially since it was raining pretty hard. We were all discombobulated though we managed to settle in our respective “rooms.”
Since there were no fans or AC, we were relying on the breeze to help us sleep… but the rooms had walls that blocked the wind so it was pretty hot. I used a handheld fan that my friend gave me but my hand stops working when I fall asleep so it was a bit of a funny little problem. The bed was also semi wet and there was sand all over the tent. It was very uncomfortable.
All throughout this journey, I cherished every moment, including the difficult ones and I never daydreamed nor missed home… except for this time. That night, I longed for my memory foam bed and my duvet. If I want maximum comfort, I tend to leave my window ajar to let some cold wind in. This way, I tuck myself in my sheets and bury myself in the comfort. This was the only time I missed Toronto.
“Last night was an adventure eh?” I said to one of our mates the morning after.
“Oh, it was a movie.” he replied.
So true.
Everything else went well after that though. So many insightful conversations; from one of our mates and me admitting that we’re gluttonous Westerners (one of the staff members doesn’t eat at night and then we mentioned how we can’t do that) to numerous dive stories.
We asked our divemaster for shitty occurrences in his career span. “Oh my God. Too many to count.” 😂 Poor guy. Life is hard enough as it is. Imagine problems underwater?
We pressed him for the worst story which he indulged us with.
Apparently, the guy straight up stood on the corals to take photos, which destroyed the corals. Endoy, the divemaster, gestured 🤷🏽♀️ and to come up. The guy wasn’t ascending from the coral floor. On the next dive, the divemaster went close to him to encourage him to stay off the corals but the diver grabbed his arm and pushed him away. The divemaster told the owner of the shop (he was working for another shop at the time) and so they kicked the turd out and never went diving with him again.
Endoy and I chatted a few times. I told him about the movie, “The Triangle of Sadness.” It stars a Filipina woman as a protagonist, which was a nice surprise for me. I only watched the film on Prime because it looked interesting. It’s about a boat crew for a rich people’s cruise and it makes a mockery of the social disparities that different human beings, from different walks of life, experience along with the ridiculous demands. When I told him I was 38 years old (now 39), he was surprised. I said, “You know the saying, ‘Asian don’t raisin?'” He looked puzzled. I looked to his wife (she was the cook), “Anong Tagalog ng raisin? (What’s Tagalog for raisin),” I asked.
“Pasas,” she replied. Endoy’s face lit up, “Ah! Like your face and wrinkles.”
“Yes!” I replied.
Duyan (swing) which I was tempted to sleep on the nights (good thing I didn’t because it rained)
Water Pump – half freshwater and half saltwater
The Korean guy, who has 1000+ dives, on the other hand, was telling us about the Maldives. Apparently, over there, there is a good chance of you coming across a school of sharks that will swim around you (harmless). He was very funny and actually quite sweet though things got lost in translation.
We didn’t decide to do 4 dives on Day 2 until after Dive 3. I guess he didn’t get the memo because he took his bag from the boat. He did this by jumping into shallow water and getting a staff member to hand it over to him. He crossed the waters holding his bag over his head and when it got to dinner, he ate quite a bit because he thought we were done. When he found out, he was shocked and gestured how much he ate and that he might throw up. “Good for the fish,” replied the divemaster.
He was fine though. He didn’t throw up. You’re usually advised not to eat too much food because of the compression in deeper waters. It could cause you to throw up and I have seen a diver throw up underwater. It doesn’t look fun so in as much as diving is a fun and relaxing sport, it’s always important to take precautions because you are putting yourself at risk.
That night, a group of freedivers came to the island. We didn’t party with them or anything (they blasted the music for a few hours and were drinking Tanduay which is half gin and half rum- they were hardcore) but a few of my mates spoke to them and I heard something ridiculous like one of them can freedive for 2 minutes down to 40 metres (130 ft) and one of them can freedive for 2 minutes down to 20 metres (65 ft).
We were like, “WTF?!?”
We learned that they were seasoned scuba divers looking for the next challenge… my mates and were like, “Yeah, we’ll stick to diving. Thanks.” We were totally put to shame. The thing is with freediving, you mostly concentrate on your thing. They’re not like divers; once we get comfortable down there, we just kinda play around, look at the fish, swim after sharks and turtles you know. We’re chillin’; can’t do that with freediving.
Posted at 10:30 am by Gelene Celis, on March 10, 2024
Pampanga
I flew back to Manila on Christmas Day. I wasted no time and headed straight to the bus station upon landing.
Pampanga is about an hour and a half away from Manila. It’s dubbed the next capital of the country because it’s bustling.
I went there specifically for the Giant Lantern Festival which I missed.
“Ah wala na ho yun. Yung festival isang gabi lang at natapos na (Oh that’s done. The festival is for one night only and it’s finished),” said the receptionist at the AirBnB condo I booked.
The lanterns were still there though so I went.
I gotta say, I’m not quite as impressed as the lanterns I saw in Sablayan. The one in Sablayan was more grassroots whereas this was quite commercialized. What became the highlight of this trip was my fancy pants AirBnB at AzureNorth.
AzureNorth, Pampanga – image courtesy of AirBnB
AzureNorth, Pampanga – image courtesy of AirBnB
AzureNorth, Pampanga – image courtesy of AirBnB
It was actually my first time renting a place with Netflix on the telly so I was pretty excited as I’ve only been watching Netflix on my phone. Netflix in every country varies so I was pretty stoked to have different types of selections, including more Asian films. I seek indie and international films out on purpose to begin with and having it right on my fingertips in a convenient place after roughing it up in the island was a nice breather.
I was so happy to have freshwater coming from the tap and the shower. I was also super comfortable on the bed and the place was cozy to begin with. I ordered in quite a bit and besides the lantern festival and some errands at the mall, I didn’t go out. After roughing it up for 3 days and continuously scuba diving for several days, which is very taxing on your body, I welcomed the chill for several days.
Plus, it was so fucking crowded that I didn’t want to be out because of it. When I got off the bus I thought, “Oh it’s not as crowded as Manila!”
I swallowed those words pretty fast.
On my last day, I headed back to Manila for a few days and hung out with some friends before I headed out to the Mountain Province region.
Mountain Province
Kalinga (Buscalan, Tinglayan)
This was defo the most challenging part of the journey. Panicking during your refresher course due to trauma was challenging because it had to do with self-regulation. This, however, was very physically taxing and no amount of self-regulation would’ve alleviated it.
I left this part last because I was going to get tattoos and you can’t bathe nor get in the water when you have fresh tattoos. I did bring my own second skin but I just didn’t want to dive for 45-55 minutes at a time, multiple times within consecutive days, soaking my fresh tattoo in saltwater.
After my last dive trip, I put myself in a headspace where the water part of my trip is done (was tempted to budge in 1 more dive day but no time).
I love mountains… and the views during the ride to get there was nothing short of breathtaking.
When we got to the other point of the mountain, I knew there was some trekking involved. I didn’t expect there to be a luggage tram so that was nice because we arrived around 9 or 10 in the morning and the sun was scorching… little did I know that the tram wasn’t going to help with the challenge which I nothinged.
I looked it up on all trails which told me that it was going to be about a 98 metre / 130 ft incline.
The Path to Whang-Od
I’ve hiked and climbed bigger elevations before. What I failed to take into account is that the incline is only half the trail because we descend on the first half. So we’re looking at 98 metres / 130 ft within half a km.
They have built steps it felt like it didn’t make a difference especially under the scorching sun. The steps were essentially on my face during most of the incline and if the steps weren’t there, I estimate the incline to be about 60-80° degrees like you can almost climb it.
It was brutal.
Granted, there were some blessings that came with it.
One of our mates almost passed out. I don’t think they take into account altitude sickness because I think his issue was a mix of that and the challenge of the hike so we took many breaks. I needed the breaks too. During which, I decided to chat up Rebecca, who was our local tour guide.
Rebecca, a Butbut tribe member
I did some previous research but it was really spotty as there are no official information and they were all just blogs. As I sat there, panting my life away, I asked her, “Bakit kung saan saan pwede kayong mapunta dito kayo sa bundok napadpad? (Your tribe could’ve lived everywhere. How did you end up here?)” I asked.
She laughed because of the context of the situation.
I asked if I can take a video of her while she narrated the story. She smiled and looked away, “‘Wag na lang (No, don’t),” she timidly said. They’re very humble and unassuming people.
“Kasi ho yung mga ninuno namin, dati sa kapatagan nakatira. Pero naghanap ng ibang babahayan kasi naghahanap ng bagong lupa. Napili nung mga matatanda sa bundok. Yung mga kabataan gusto sana sa kapatagan pero hindi sila pinayagan kasi pag naghiwa-hiwalay sila, mahihinaan yung grupo nila kasi minsan nag-aaway ang mga tribo. Nagkakagera. (Our ancestors used to live in the plains. But they looked for a different home around better lands – for farming. They chose the mountains. The younger ones wanted to stay in the plains but the elders didn’t allow it because the tribe would get weak for when wars happen),” she replied.
“Ano hong pinag-aawayan ng mga tribo (What do the tribes fight over)?” I asked.
“Lupa at teritoryo (Land and territory),” she replied.
Interesting. It’s like modern day wars. Upon hearing this, I realized that wars are a necessary part of Life just as sometimes we, unfortunately, go into wars with ourselves. More on this later.
Despite the gruelling hike, everything felt like it happened so fast. We reached the village around noon and by then all we wanted to do was rest and eat. We were directed to our homestay and my mates and I settled in.
Tattoo Designs to choose from
Dining area
After eating lunch, I asked around as to where Whang-Od might be.
Whang-Od
“Hindi mo nakita? Dinaanan nyo na kanina yung lugar (You didn’t see it? You passed by the area where she’s tattooing),” a local replied.
We had one of the local guides lead us to where she was tattooing. I anticipated to be starstruck as in I would want to shriek with excitement but that wasn’t the feeling at all. When I got there, everything just felt… normal.
I waved at Whang-Od as she turned her head my way. She just looked back at the tattoo she was in the process of finishing.
“Pa-tattoo na kayo (Are you getting tattooed now)?” asked a local.
“Ah mamaya na lang ho. Kararating lang namin (In a bit. We just arrived),” I said.
“Ah kung gusto mong mag pa tattoo kay Whang-Od kelangan ngayon na. Kasi mamaya aakyat pa yan sa bundok para sa To-or (Oh if you want to get tattooed by Whang-Od, you have to do it now. She’s going further up the mountain for To-or (farming ritual),” the lady said.
Whang-Od is 107 years old. I like how they’re casually going up and down the mountains whereas we almost died, literally for my mate too. Damn.
There was another group before us. The lineup wasn’t so bad because it was New Year’s Eve.
We waited patiently for our turn and during which, Whang-Od made a mistake. She doesn’t tattoo full on designs anymore. She just does the 3-dot signature but I guess she missed an aim at one point because it turned out to be 4 dots on one lady. Whang-Od gladly corrected it by offering a design.
Everyone was in anticipation; she doesn’t do designs anymore. This is, as I would find out later on, the first rarity of this occasion.
The lady who was getting it though doesn’t have any tattoos so she was apprehensive and stressed out. Whang-Od asked her (with the local translator) if she can take the pain.
Whang-Od’s “studio” area
Whang-Od doing her thing
After their group was done, it was our turn. I wanted the dots to be at the back of my neck below the Filipino-Canadian tattoo I have. Little did I know that I was to be surprised…
Once I was done, I had one of my mates take a photo of the tattoo. This was when I found out that she modified the 3 dot placement. It’s usually lined straight but she customized it to have a better layout with my existing tattoos.
Hah! I was so stoked! I felt so special! 😁
But that wasn’t it.
After everyone in our group got tattooed, we did another photo session with Whang-Od. The other tribe members who were around for translations and to supervise told us that it’s okay to hug her.
One of my mates went first and did the finger pointing thing at the camera and to our surprise and amusement, Whang-Od followed suit! Haha! Then one of my other mates went in and did the shaka sign, which Whang-Od also did. I was kinda bummed about because I was thinking of doing the same thing.
When it came to my turn, I sat beside her and put my arm around her. I was slowly doing the shaka sign when this happened…
Whang-Od initially played with my spacers and then touched my septum ring as she jokingly said, “Kalabaw.”
Carabao in the Philippines – image courtesy of Wikipedia
Carabaos are water buffaloes that rice farmers plow their field. The Butbut tribe are mainly rice farmers.
They would pierce the carabaos’ septum to put a ring on it or to put ropes in it so that farmers can train young ones and it helps them navigate the buffaloes to the right path.
It’s kinda like horses with ropes I suppose, except this one is harnessed on their noses.
I was honestly kinda ready for Whang-Od to grab my crotch lol. I’ve seen videos of her grabbing people’s crotches, for women, to verify their gender when she’s not sure. With my shaved head, I thought she might get confused but I guess that’s not what she saw in me.
Facial mods are actually an indigenous thing. My spacers and my septum rings are more derived from African tribes more than anything. It’s not really a Filipino thing. A divemaster actually brought up some tribes that put multiple necklace chokers to lengthen the women’s necks as it’s their definition of beauty.
courtesy of twofeatherplugs.com
courtesy of Medium.com
courtesy of Tribalik.co.uk
I was unbelievably stoked. It’s rare she interacts with people like she did with me.
“Kalabaw”
After the session, Whang-Od went up further in the mountain and I went back to our homestay.
Karen and Toto
I kept asking about the people who were doing tattoos since Whang-Od doesn’t do designs anymore. She can only pass down the skill to bloodline so the younger ones are her great-great-great-something-nephew and nieces.
The ink is essentially charcoal they had used for cooking mixed with water. Just a heads up, the ink that Whang-Od uses is communal, meaning, she uses the same bowl of ink for everyone. You have your own thorn though. The stick that holds the thorn is made of bamboo and the “needle” itself are thorns from plants.
I selected the Serpent Eagle (heavenly guidance and protection) and Traveller (to help guide us on our paths) for my left forearm and the Ladder pattern (reach heavens & achievement) as well as the Snake pattern (safety, protection, health, shield) for my right wrist. I was going to have it as an armband instead but I didn’t bring enough cash and there are no phone receptions, no internet, and no ATMs.
Honestly, I was glad it turned out to be a wristband because it hurt like a bitch.
It started out with just Karen tattooing me the patterns on my wrist. When Toto was done with the other guy, Karen asked me if I’m okay with two people tattooing me at the same time.
I said okay… which I regretted within 5 minutes of Toto tattooing me at the same time as Karen but I didn’t back out because if I did, we would’ve reached nightfall before the other tattoo was done and I was just so damn tired. I wanted to get it over with.
Bamboo Sticks
Charcoal + Water = Butbut Tattoo Ink
I brought my own second skin to help with the healing. After the tattoos were done, I went back to the homestay and asked a couple of my mates for help in putting it on.
“Ang lamig ng kamay mo (Your hands are so cold)!” one of them said.
“Siguro kasi ang daming sakit ngayong araw at grabe din ang sakit nito. Dalawa pang sabay (Maybe it’s because I’m experiencing a lot of pain today and the pain from these tattoos are pretty bad. Two of them were tattooing me at the same time),” I replied.
From the brutal climb to the village to the pain of the tattoos; I was ready to call it a night. I was done.
This was definitely the most challenging part of the trip. It was so much pain and I was not prepared for the literal and metaphorical terrains. It was so painful and I was so tired that I forgot to take a photo of the final products so here they are when I got home (about a week later).
I needed to break my cash so I went around the village for souvenir things. I ended up getting a necklace and a few other items that I was gonna give to friends and family when I got back. I also got a small Buscalan coffee pack because I needed to further break my bills. It turned out to be great coffee! I wish I had gotten more but luckily, some family is coming to New York at the end of March so I asked them to get it for me.
It’s the type of coffee that really wakes you up but lets you sleep at night and I’m sensitive to caffeine so that was a big deal for me.
Buscalan Coffee, grown in their own fields
That night, the city tour guide announced that we would need to wake up at 3:30am because we need to descend the mountain at 4am, which is not 6am (when there’s some sunlight). I was pretty miffed. It’s a steep incline and descent is more challenging with regard to balance plus it was raining that night so it would be slippery.
It was New Year’s Eve but we didn’t stay up until midnight because of this. We didn’t really party or anything but we did smoke weed.
Fun fact: indigenous tribes have been using herbs since the dawn of time for spiritual purposes. A friend of mine used to study these things and apparently hallucinogens like ayahuasca is somewhere in the Northeast of the compass as it’s for purging or something. There are different herbs for each direction and right in the middle of it is weed.
Weed, in indigenous tribes, are considered a catalyst herb so when you’re starting a new chapter in your life or something of the sort, this would be the herb to go. Evidently, I catalyze my life several times in a week.
You’re not allowed to bring weed in just as you’re not allowed to bring weed out. It’s still very illegal in the Philippines but there are loopholes like these because to these people, weed is holy.
And I really respect that.
I hung out with some of my mates during which. One of them has never smoked weed before so I started up the pipe to show him how it’s done.
The city tour guide was talking to us about his experiences there. He was telling us about how he’s spent so many days there and have spent his birthday several times. “Minsan lahat tulog na and madilim na at kami na lang maingay (Sometimes everyone is sleeping and it’s dark and we’re the only ones who are loud),” he bragged.
It rang a bell inside of me. I thought it was a bit disrespectful, “Hindi kayo pinapaalis (Don’t they kick you out)?” I asked.
“Hindi. Nagdadala kami ng pera dito. Hindi kami nyan gagalawin (No. We bring money in. They’re not going to touch us,” he kept bragging.
Yeah, I hated him. I made a mental note to blacklist those guys and if I ever come back, it won’t be with them.
I had a shower, ate my dinner, and called it a night.
Around midnight (New Year), my mates and I intermittently woke up to the sounds of fireworks and, as we found out later, gunshots.
The next day, some of our mates woke us up around 4am. We had breakfast and got ready to leave.
The descent sucked. It was pitch black darkness and all we had were our flashlights and we had to bring our bags with us because the luggage tram wasn’t operating yet. I took it very slowly especially since the sandals I had were shit for slippery rocks. The local tour guides held me by the hand at some points which was very kind of them. They kept trying to ask me to take out the second skin too because they thought it was ordinary plastic so I kept refusing.
When we finally got to the other side, we still had to wait a bit for the van as we woke up the driver because it was still dark.
As we rode the van on our way back, we started gaining back phone reception. I messaged the other city tour guide (they were partners) asking them if they can just pick me up on their way back to Manila too because I didn’t have reason to go back to Buscalan. If I had more time, I would’ve stayed a week or so because tourists are actually allowed to participate in their farming ritual and I wanted to get to know the people more… but I didn’t have time.
The city tour guide then replied to me that they’re not passing by the town I’m going to on their way back. I had reserved for two slots so I’m technically was going on two trips to Buscalan. I already don’t like them because of the aforementioned reasons. They also made me show up early to the meeting point only to be 2 hours late with no apologies nor sensitivity towards the matter.
When I got off the van, I explained the situation to the other city guide and was only going to pay the balance for one trip. I guess they didn’t communicate because he wasn’t aware of the situation and made me pay for the deposit for the second trip as well as the balance for the first. It was 7 in the morning: I was in no mood to argue so I just gave him the extra ₱500 (about $13 CAD, $10 USD, €8). I was pissed but I also asked to just be dropped off in a town where I’ve never been before, where I don’t know anyone, I don’t speak the local dialect, and have nothing – no lodging nor transportation to get back to Manila – booked.
I had them drop me off at the ticket station for the buses and I was just to knock on doors and figure it out. It was New Year’s Day and very early in the morning so it was very quiet. It took me about an hour of walking around before I found a place which had staff readily available for me to be able to book a place.
Sagada
Sagada is a town about 3 hours away from Buscalan.
I found Sagada Guesthouse and checked in there. Rooms with shared bathroom were ₱500/night which was the only thing I could afford because I was running out of cash. The town had ATMs but it was constantly out of cash or wouldn’t take my card and all places I went to were only accepting cash. I was conserving what little I had left.
Sagada Guesthouse – image courtesy of TripAdvisor
how my room was – image courtesy of TripAdvisor
I inquired about the Sea of Clouds and Hanging Coffins as these are things people mainly come to the city for. My friend also recommended to go check it out (he’s been here a few times).
I forgot the actual figures but I was really running low on cash so I decided to pass up on the full trail for Sea of Clouds. The lodging staff hooked me up with a local tour guide.
“5:45 bukas (5:45 am tomorrow),” said the staff.
“Ganung oras ang sundo (They pick us up at that time)?” I asked.
“Oho (Yes),” he replied.
Ah! When you’re on vacation and you’re doing activities, you don’t really get to sleep in. That’s okay I suppose, I wake up around that time already anyway without an alarm, unfortunately.
I still had the rest of the New Year’s Day so I decided to check out Gaia Cafe, which a friend had recommended. I checked it out on the map and it was going to be a 20 minute walk and I couldn’t find any trikes around. I just started walking to the spot when I flagged a trike. I asked him how much it was going to cost and he said ₱25 so I rode on the fancy trike.
When I got off, I asked the driver (Andrew was his name) if he could come back when I’m ready. He agreed to do so and we exchanged numbers.
Gaia Cafe
The place was gorgeous.
I had a chat with the owner (the lady sitting down, reading a book, in the video) who then told me that the creations in the cafe, including the mosaic floors, were all made by local artists. They had connections in Chicago too as they immigrated there and would travel back and forth between the US and the Philippines.
Once I was done my meal, I text messaged Andrew, the trike driver, to come pick me up. He informed me that it will take about half an hour as he will be coming from a little farther from the city centre. I told him that I’ll cover the cost for his trip to get me too. It only seemed fair.
By the time I got back to the inn, it was already dusk. I just kinda chilled, organized my stuff, prepped for the hike the next day, and called it a night.
Sea of Clouds and Blue Soil
At about 5:45am the next day, I was in the van headed to the start of the trail. It was only about a 15 minute ride away.
It was still dark when we started.
Start of Sea of Clouds
The hike itself was about 6 km / 3.7 miles with an elevation of 471 metres / 1500 ft.
The official name of the trail is Marlboro County via Payag-eo
There was a rest stop too on the Sea of Clouds viewpoint where I ate some Arroz Caldo as I was starving. My local guide and I chilled there for a bit before heading to the other main viewpoints; Blue Salt and Echo Valley.
It rained the night before too so it was quite muddy and my sandals had excellent traction for mud plus the elevation is much higher than in Whang-Od’s village but it was divvied by 6km so I didn’t struggle which was nice.
I got a little confused once we were done with the Sea of Clouds bit. I told the staff at the inn that I’m opting for the turning back choice (after Sea of Clouds) because going further would cost more money that I didn’t have (they only accepted cash). I told the tour guide but he insisted that it was part of the package and it was okay. I just kinda went along and thought that it would be alright and that I would figure it out somehow.
During our hike, we got to chatting. He spoke about agriculture in the Philippines and how it’s not supported. I told him that I kinda had an idea of it because I am originally from the country though I’ve seen another reality where people actually want to live in a farm. I told him that when Covid hit, a lot of office workers who work remote started moving out into the country and started farming. The community, from my perspective (I say that because I haven’t been immersed in the reality so all I have are objective insights), farmers are well supported much more in the Philippines like if you want to have a farm, the government will actually help you out.
my local tour guide
“Maganda yan (That’s good!),” he said. “Kasi dito sa Pilipinas, minamaliit and mga magsasaka. Hindi naiintindihan ng mga tao at gobyerno na kapag walang magsasaka at nagtatanim, walang makakain (Because here in the Philippines, they belittle farmers. People don’t understand that if there are no farmers and other agricultural workers then there will be food),” he addded.
“Oo nga. Dun naiintindihan ng mga tao. Kaya ini-encourage nilang suportahan and lokal. Tsaka naiintindihan ng mga tao na ‘pag magsuporta ka ng lokal (Yeah, I know. In Canada, people understand that which is why they encourage and advertise to support local),” I said.
“Maganda yan. Dapat ganyan. Dati ako rin nagsasaka; mga tatlong taon pero tinigil ko na kasi halos walang nakikita (That’s good. That’s how it should be. I used to farm too for about three years but I stopped because I was barely making anything),” he said.
“Mga ano hong kita ninyo (Around how much were you earning)?” I asked.
He gestures with his hands, “Tinatanim ko noon mga gulay. Pero mga isang kumpol ng gulay mga apat o limang piso lang ang binibigay samin. Pati bigas halos ganun ang isang kilo (I used to plant vegetables. I would only get about ₱4 to ₱5 – about ¢.10 CAD, ¢.08 USD, ¢.06 Euros. For grains of rice, they give us about the same for a kilo),” he informed me.
I was shocked. ₱4 to ₱5 per fucking kilogram? They sell those for 10-20 times more in Manila!
image courtesy of Philstar
“Saan napupunta yung iba? Alam kung may mga kailngan ding kumita pero medyo abuso yata yun (Where does the other part of the profit go? I know there are people in the chain who need to make money out of it but that sounds like abuse),” I said.
He nodded, “Kaya nga tinigil ko na (It’s why I stopped).”
“Ano na hong pinagkikitaan nyo (What do you do for a living now)?” I asked.
“Eto. Nag to-tour guide. Malaking tulong din ‘to. ‘Pag maraming dumadayo, disente ang pagkikitaan. Tapos minsan kung ano ano; nag da -drive ng bus, tricycle. Kung anong makitaan (This. I’m a tour guide. It’s a big help. When there’s a lot of tourists, the earnings are decent. Sometimes I do odd jobs like driving a bus or a tricycle… whatever I can get my hands on,” he said.
It was heartbreaking to say the least. In the beginning of my trip, I came across locals who were skilled freedivers, featured in Western magazines and specialty channels (Nat Geo, Discovery) yet struggles to make a living. And now, I come across a former farmer in a country that is has natural riches with very fertile soil and mostly ideal weather to grow crops yet he’s also struggling.
It’s usually about politics, as I found out more later via another source.
The Butbut and Igorot (Kalinga) Tribes
We rode back to the inn from the meeting point at the end of the hike. We went for a several hour lunch break. During which, I walked around and checked out the ATMs. They were all out of order and I was in a bit of panic mode because I still needed the cash to go back to Manila (the bus station wasn’t accepting cards either), pay for the tour, and eat.
As I walked around, a random girl approached me, “Hi!” she said.
“I’m sorry if this is weird but I thought you look really cool. I saw you the other day and I wanted to talk to you. It took some guts and I was like, you know what? If she’s unfriendly at least I tried,” she added.
“Aaw! Thanks! I’m just looking around for a spot to eat lunch. Do you want to come join me?” I asked her.
“Yeah, I would love to!” she replied.
I don’t remember the name of the restaurant we ended up in, unfortunately. It was owned by locals though who we ended up chatting with.
I told them about my trip to Buscalan and how I did some research over tribal wars as well as about beheadings that they used to do.
“Nagpupugot pa rin sila ng ulo (They still behead people),” she said.
😵💫
image courtesy of igorotage.com
“Teka. Kagagaling ko lang dun. Nag ge-gera pa rin sila at nagpupugot ng ulo?!? (Wait. I was just there. They still have tribal wars and they still behead people?!?),” I asked.
“Oo. Pero nire-reserba nila yung pagpupugot sa mga grabe ang nagawa. Kahit nung high school kami, kaklase namin yung mga taga tribo nila at pag merong away, wala sila talaga sa klase (Yes. But they reserve the beheadings to ones who have committed atrocious acts. Even when I was in high school, some of their tribe members were in my class and when there’s a war, they wouldn’t attend class),” she said.
“Ano ho yung grabe (Can you give me an example of ‘atrocious’)?” I asked, a little uneasy.
“Dati may taga dooon na bumaba dito. Nag-asawa ng taga dito pero Igorot din kasi mga descendant kami ng Igorot. Nagka anak sila ng babae at pinatay. Bumaba yung mga pinuno ng tribo nila. Nag meeting sila sa council dito at pagkatapos, kinuha nila yung pumatay sa anak na babae. ‘Pag ganun walang magagawa ang pulis at militar (There was a guy from their tribe who moved to this city. He married a local though she was also an Igorot as we are all descendants of Igorot tribe – family tribe of Whang-Od’s tribe. They had a daughter who was murdered. Due to this, the leaders of their tribe descended from their mountains and came here to talk to the council. After which, they took the murderer with them. When things like that happen, there’s nothing that the cops nor the military can do),” she explains.
“Pa’no ho kung may mga turista at nag-gera (What if there’s tourists and they have a war)?” I asked.
“Ay hindi naman. Sinasarado nila lahat ng daan. Sinisiguro nilang walang tagalabas pag nangyayari yun (Oh no that won’t happen. They close all the roads and trails to their village when they have wars. They make sure that no civilians are involved),” she said.
Damn. It’s fascinating and intimidating at the same time knowing how simple they live their lives. Compared to us, Westerners, they’re essentially in poverty and very neglected by the government. They rely on farming and tourism for their income. Whang-Od looks like she makes a lot of money but, as a friend educated me, she actually helps out her village so what she earns goes to their people.
Those guys are solid.
image courtesy of larskruak.com
They’re a tight-knit community and really look out for each other to the point that if you mess with them, you’re just fucked.
It’s amazing really given what little they have. They were humble, good natured, and unassuming people. Whang-Od herself was not fazed at all by her popularity.
I couldn’t help but think of Western institutions that are very low in morale and dignity. Civilization was made to expand a human being’s capacity. The fact that there’s so much mediocrity out there goes to show how much of our humanity and ourselves we’ve forgotten because of the stigmatization that came with colonization.
As for the history of tattoos: it started out with indigenous tribes which then became stigmatized when colonialism happened and then people in jail started doing it with makeshift equipment. This is when much of the social stigma began.
As far as patriarchy goes: traditional indigenous garment sometimes would have no tops for women and as the story of my Indian friend goes (bear with me I have a point), women used to not have any undergarments with their sarees. It wasn’t until the British came that they sexualized it and they were required to wear something underneath. It’s the same story with the tribes; once colonialism came, they required women to wear tops because they sexualized nudity instead of seeing it as something innocent and perfectly natural… Fail.
Once my new friend, who’s from Manila visiting the city like me, and I finished our convo, we headed back to the inn. She asked to be part of the Hanging Coffins tour and the staff as well as the tour guide were both okay with it. I found out that the fee would be the same regardless of how many people were joining the tour which was nice for me as I only had to pay half then since I had a new mate. The only other additional fee that we would incur is the park fee which is an individual charge.
We headed off to the Hanging Coffins as soon as our local tour guide arrived.
Hanging Coffins
We didn’t need to take transportation to get there or anything as the park was only about 10-15 minute walk from the city centre.
Reese, my new friend, came with me. 😊
She’s already been to the Hanging Coffins apparently but she wanted to check it once more.
So as the story goes, the natives’ (Igorot tribe) tradition is to hang their dearly beloved when they pass away. It’s believed that hanging them will them closer to their ancestors. This tradition dates back 2000 years and some of them still follow it.
When the colonizers came, they introduced burying the dead on the ground.
Grave Site by The Hanging Coffins
Thankfully, the Americans didn’t reject nor tell the Igorots to stop their custom. They just gave them an alternative option.
Our tour guide is of Igorot descent. We asked him if he’s getting buried on the ground or the caves.
“Hindi ko pa sinasabi sa pamilya ko kung anong gusto. Kung mawala ako ng walang nasabi, bali sa kweba ako mapupunta (I haven’t told my family yet what I want to do with my body when I pass away. Should I go before we settle it, I’ll be in the caves),” he replied.
On our way to main area where the hanging coffins are, we pass by a nook within the caves (the place is full of it).
He further narrated the customs when we arrived in the main area. His grandmother is actually on the wall here.
Our local tour guide and his grandmother in one of the coffins
After which, we headed back to town and my new mate and I hung out.
When I got back to the inn, I asked the staff about my charges… and sure enough, we had a misunderstanding. Because I didn’t turn back from the Sea of Clouds hike, I was charged the full amount. I walked around to check out the only 3 ATM’s that the town had and they were all out of cash. Thankfully, Reese had cash and I PayPal-ed her the funds.
We said our goodbyes to each other that night as I was headed back to Manila the next day and she planned on going to Whang-Od. I told her that she might as well since she was already in Sagada.
Getting Back to Manila
The next day, I still didn’t have bus tickets. The reservation was full apparently and my best bet was to wait around for the other bus that goes to another town closer to Manila and take another bus from there. None of this was on the internet or official or anything. Everything was asking around people in town and word of mouth.
I ended up waiting around for about 4 hours in the middle of the day. I’m not complaining though. I mean, this is my view:
Around 1pm, the bus line and schedule that I couldn’t get a ticket for showed up. I kept asking the driver if he had extra room. I kept getting a “no” up until right before they left. That’s when assessed, I guess, that they did have extra room so I hopped in.
The ride itself was about 12 hours. It would’ve only been around 10 but we stopped by smaller towns to pick up more passengers.
Posted at 12:30 pm by Gelene Celis, on March 9, 2024
Back in Manila
I spent Christmas travelling (flying back to Manila from Sablayan/Apo Reef). I spent New Year’s also travelling (ride from Buscalan to Sagada). So it’s only natural that I spent my birthday on the road too (bus back to Manila).
There’s this superstitious belief that whatever you do in the New Year will set the tone for the rest of the year. Honestly, my 2023 was shit and it started with shit as well. I’m hoping 2024 will be better and my being constantly-on-the-road paves the way for positive energy.
I realized that I really like being on the road and I’m a goal-oriented person which doesn’t serve me well with many instances in Life where it’s really more about the process and the journey. This trip was a bit of both. I get bored once I’m done what I went there for and hidden gems are inadvertent finds like the grassroots Christmas thing in Sablayan.
Nothing ever really completely turns out the way we plan. In doing these things, the way I see it, I prepare myself for unexpected events in many other aspects in my Life. It’s not that I make things difficult on purpose; I just anticipate that things are going to get delayed, you’re going to find holes or mistakes within your planning etc which is why it’s always good to leave some padding on our schedules, budgets, and other factors within our planned routes.
I told my friends that I’m prepping for yet another jetlag. One of my good friends works night shift so it was perfect: he got off at 11pm so my other good friend and I waited for him (she didn’t have a set schedule).
I drank 2 espresso shots late in the day, to keep me up, before we headed out for some drinks and pool.
I noticed that my friend was pretty good at it.
“Yeah I used to cut classes in high school to go play billiards with a friend,” Roger said.
“Hindi na ako masyado magaling (I’m not that good anymore),” he adds.
“Well I guess now you need to cut work,” I jokingly replied.
I used to be somewhat decent at it in high school but I currently suck at it since I’ve had zero practice.
We compared tattoos afterwards as he went to go see Whang-Od as well. He was actually the one who gave me a heads up on what to expect and some rundown as well with regard to the tour guides.
Gelene and Roger’s Buscalan Tattoos
“Alanganin kasi yung dates mo (Your dates were weird),” he said in relation to my trip to Whang-Od. I went there on December 31st and left on January 1st so I didn’t have a lot of options.
“Mahirap maghanap ng joiner tour na maalaga talaga sa kliyente at para kang kaibigan at masaya kayong lahat. Karamihan kasi ang tingin sa’yo, pera lang (It’s difficult to find city tour guides who care about their clients, like you’re friends and the trips feel like a bunch of friends going. Most of them just look at you as money),” he explains.
I was ranting about the tour group I went with. I just thought they were so disrespectful and yes, while the Butbuts won’t do anything about his obnoxiousness because they bring in income, I think it’s awful that they’re taking advantage of it and inflating their worth to the tribe based on the tangible things they bring to the table. It’s like a paradigm for all things I hate about Western culture; materialism, greed, excess, deceit… games we play that create internal and external wars, greatly injurious to our well-being and our humanity.
Once we were done playing pool. We walked over to a bar and had a lot of real talk with our mutual friend, Kitsi.
I’m not going into detail with her personal troubles but when she told us, Roger asked me for a cigarette (he doesn’t smoke) because it stressed us both out. I got so pissed at one point that I told her to hold off on access on certain things when it came to the person in question.
However, I will narrate some things she told us during the drug wars when the former president straight up gave the cops license to kill when they catch drug users/sellers.
Apparently, they had a quota per day that they needed to fill so planting drugs on random people became a thing.
She told us about a pedal trike victim.
image courtesy of Gulf News
“Gabi na nun pero hindi pa masyadong late kaya marami pang tao. May pulis na isa at pinlantahan ng droga. Sumigaw yung driver, ‘Pinaplantahan ako! Pinaplantahan ako!’ Yung mga tao humiwalay. Walang gusto tumulong kasi ‘pag tinulunga mo, lagot ka rin. Sumisigaw sya ng ilang beses at dinadalian yung pag bisikleta nya. Tapos maya maya narinig na lang namin ang baril. Patay (It was nighttime but it wasn’t too late so there were still a lot of people; like a crowd. There was one cop who planted drugs in the trike. The driver started yelling, frantically, ‘They’re planting the drugs on me! They’re planting the drugs!’ The crowd parted. No one wanted to help because if you do, you’ll be in trouble too. He yelled a couple more times as he sped his cycling. Then we heard a gunshot and he was dead).”
So much heartbreak 💔
We all have a tendency to be petty, yeah, moreso than I would like to admit. But when you come across stories like these, that hits close to home since your friend experienced it just as you’ve witnessed similar things in the past, it changes something inside of you, I think.
It’s quite sad, really. My mother told me that her parents (my grandparents) never had plans to immigrate during their days because life was good. They were able to afford decent homes and such with a teacher’s salary and the cost of living was in good quality… and then fucking corrupt politicans came into power and stole $62 billion USD worth in Philippine Pesos, upheld the martial law (a lot of riots came with it), and ultimately fucked us.
After which, it just feels like there is no salvation in sight… it’s why my family left. Most, millions, of people in this country – and other countries for that matter – do not have the privileges that I have which I do not take for granted at all. I think it’s why I wept in Cebu; I already knew these things happen just as I’ve encountered similar things in the past but when it’s in your face, when you’ve been living in your sheltered life out in the West for so long, it’s a shock to the system. It hurts to not be able to do anything to help and I know even if I’m able to come up with something, it’s probably not going to be as measurable and will be more for myself to alleviate my own pain. It hurts… even as I type this, it hurts.
When my friend dropped me off my hotel, he asked, “Are you gonna be okay? You’re not gonna cry in the plane?”
I replied,”No. I’m gonna rethink my life.”
Toronto
I would usually feel a sense of sadness when I’m leaving in conclusion to a trip but I didn’t feel it here. When I got back home, actually, I felt my energy quite uplifted. I felt my perspective change with regard to how I see my life but the very first thing I did was get rid of about a third of my wardrobe and other stuff that I have no use for nor love.
But I did put up a wall dedicated to reminding me of this particular journey.
It’s composed of the fan that my friend gave me, the bamboo sticks that were used for my tribal tattoos, the mask I got in Malaspascua, and a wooden necklace right on top of my Buddhist scroll (not pictured) that reminds me of one of my values.
My home has been a constant work in progress as I change things around here and there especially around New Year’s because I feng shui’d my place. I don’t mind. They’re labours of love and sometimes, the things that are put up here are literally stemming from places with people whose blood, sweat, and tears – including my own.
Life is never easy just as I know that good things come with bad and vice versa because these things tend to come together to maintain some kind of existential equilibrium. This is why I don’t believe in just “thinking positive” without considerations for the negative because the negative teaches us lessons.
We never really get to know a culture until we feel the way they feel with their worldviews because the intellect can only go so far. Like I always say, emotions – along with the senses – have a direct line to the subconscious so significant lessons are always emotional.
It’s been about two months since I got back, as I type this, and I’m still processing some things.
“We tend to think of the rational as a higher order, but it is the emotional that marks our lives. One often learns more from ten days of agony than from ten years of contentment.” – Merle Shain
Keep treading your path, fellow traveller. It is only when embark on adventures that we get to experience various paradigms of Life.
By the time I hopped on the ferry from Koh Lanta back to Phuket, I was ready to go home. I felt like I’ve done and explored what I wanted. Throughout this entire trip (and pretty much for all of our lives, should we remain hungry forever), I interacted with people from different walks of life and found pieces of myself, some of which I had forgotten. In recounting my second set of dives in Phuket, I hope to share some insights along the way.
I went diving a couple more times in Phuket. One of the dive sites was actually a spot I already went to but I was all, “Eh, what else is there to do? Fuck it.” Yep, I was getting bored. Like I said, I was ready to go home.
Our divemaster was Scottish who had a super thick accent. I kept asking him to repeat some of the things he was saying until finally, he replied, “You just don’t understand me because of my Scottish accent!”
I nodded, “Yeah. That’s probably it.”
There were a couple other guys with me (come to think of it, most divers – masters and recreational – are men 🤔). One was this Brit who was working in the Middle East. He showed me a couple photos from when he went diving in the Red Sea, “I highly recommend it. The fish really come close to you,” he says as he showed me a close-up shot of a white-tip shark, “Sometimes, a little too close.”
I don’t remember the story of the other dude but he was on his refresher because he hasn’t gone in about a year. He had some trouble and we all helped and waited out for him. I suggested he sing, “Sink?” he asked.
“No. Sing.”
“Like, songs?”
“Yeah.” (I start humming some random tune. I’m a terrible singer but humming works wonders too)
He just laughed.
“I’m serious. It calms you down. Try it… not like heavy metal songs though.”
In between the dives, we hung our wetsuits out in the prep area, and I laid down at the beach beds and dried up.
When we got called out to prep for the next dive, I grabbed my wetsuit – still damp – was grossed out and it showed on my face. “Ah! Yes! That’s the best part about diving! Getting on something nice, damp, and cold on your warm, dry body!” joked the divemaster. Ugh
We found Nemo several times down there. One was swimming around, getting all cuddly (I don’t actually know what it’s doing) with anemone (those corals). The Brit told us about a documentary he watched about those guys. Apparently, they develop a relationship with particular anemones and if it’s not the same fish that goes to the coral, they get stung.
courtesy of asknature.org
The boat was a bit far when we ascended so we waited for some time on the surface. For the first time, after several dives, I look up on the limestones and it’s actually quite nice. We get so busy looking down and checking out the visibility and the conditions of the water that we forget to look up. It was nice being partially submerged in the ocean yet still be able to observe beauties of the solid earth.
“I keep forgetting to shave. It’s giving me problems,” said one of our mates while touching his mustache.
“Why?” I asked. They all looked at me, “Oh yeah I guess you don’t need to worry about that. But the mustache pushes the mask and water can get in.”
Sounds like a hassle like the annoying hair on my head that I have to constantly shave.
They started talking about the fish, which lead me to ask about the corals, “Which one?” asked the divemaster.
“The one that looked like mouths,” I replied.
He gives me a very “Wtf?” look. His face was priceless 🤣
See the mouths? They look like they’re wailing in a cartoon-y way. “Oh my God he farted again! Aaaaahhh! Get me out of here!”
I tried to explain to him what I meant but he seemed so clueless that I just gave up, “Eh nevermind. Silly things.”
I suppose I was telling the truth about silliness as this is the kind of shit that goes on in my head sometimes, in all honesty.
When we got back on the ship, we talked about our dive logs and such. I asked the divemaster a question, which he asked me to repeat several times. I forget what my words were, exactly, but on the third time I repeated myself, he finally understood it, “Oh! You mean (whatever it was)! See? I’m lost with your accent too!”
We all have an accent.
Technically, with English, it’s British people who “don’t have an accent” but even they have different accents depending on which part of the UK they’re coming from.
Sometimes when we go to strange places, we learn more about others and the world. Sometimes we learn more about ourselves. Although sometimes we remember because, amidst all this insanity that we all deal with (unless you live under a rock or in a small rural village untouched by industrialism), we all too often forget.
On the other hand, sometimes when we go to new places and do what we set out to do, there’s really nothing more… eh for some parts during this trip, I was very focused on diving and didn’t really care about much else.
There were some things that I came across that really broke my heart, which I’m not willing to discuss on my public blog. I wish I could do something about it but, given the position I’m in, there was nothing I could really do that wouldn’t compromise my own well-being… and I don’t believe anyone should have to do that nor have to be taken against anyone for doing so.
I know this sounds like a cliché of a fucking annoying quote from a coaster but… if you don’t have yourself then you won’t have much else nor would you have anything to give.
Self-care, not a disregard for the well-being of others (too often misconstrued), is a virtue.
Having met a lot of expats during this trip made me realize how difficult it was to grow up when your family is constantly moving around (my folks were expats). People who grow up with such realities are apparently called “third culture kids.” But by its definition, since we’re living in such a multi-socio and multi-cultural world, this is therefore applicable to people who aren’t just expats (or kids of) but pretty much almost everyone who grew up with kids from different kinds of households from locals to immigrants. So, if you’re living in urban areas, from what I gather, all over the world, then you’re looking at this reality.
I personally think it’s great but it is definitely not without its struggles, especially when you haven’t formed a good base or a foundation for your own individual values yet.
When I got back to my room, I messaged the girl I met at Koh Lanta. We kept each other company on the ferry on the way back to Phuket. She stayed in Pa Tong beach area whereas I was in Kata (different areas of the island). We talked about many things one of which was hanging out when I got back that night. Pa Tong was way too much of a party place for me and my grandma sleeping habits but I wouldn’t have minded checking it out for a night. I couldn’t make it though. I went diving three times that day and did multiple day dives, everyday, for about a week before then (haven’t gone in years… got a little too excited). I was pretty drained by the end of the day but still wanted to check out Pa Tong so I didn’t cross it off my list until I lied down, “I’m just gonna rest for a bit” but then I couldn’t bring myself to get up once I got there.
I messaged the girl, “I’m tired AF. I won’t make it out but we should hang when we get back in TO.”
“Yeah, I can only imagine how exhausting multiple dives can be. No worries and totally!” she replied.
Included in the many topics of our long conversation during the ferry ride were social insights.
I’m not mentioning specifics but I will say this: it’s still seemingly a popular notion that diversity is all about having all kinds of folk from so and so being a part of a group, which it partially is but when you get into a productivity context, that sort of mentality alone may only serve for good publicity. It’s not entirely a bad thing because it can help alleviate a lot of social issues with regards to mass perception but at the same time, it fails to employ substantial benefits towards thrivability.
There are countless studies with regards to this (look it up if you’re interested) but:
1. When you get different people from different walks of life, you also get different subjective perspectives. What happens in several contexts may only have one objective, tangible set of facts but it will be processed differently by different people based on our corresponding realities.
In a collective sort of setting, this could really work towards the goal(s) if utilized well. When you get different people seeing different pieces of the puzzle, you can fill the holes better. Imagine if everyone thought the same way and if everyone had the same interests? You’ll get all these gaps that aren’t filled or dots that aren’t connected because the selective thinking/confirmation bias/whatever it’s called is going to be the same.
2. While it’s great to have experts who have been doing it forever, realize the value of “fresh meat.” Just because they’re not completely aware of the pitfalls and they lack insight, it doesn’t mean that they won’t have anything to contribute. It is precisely because of the fact that they aren’t completely aware of the pitfalls that make them dare to think of or want to execute novel ideas. Finding the middle ground will entail working with the old-timers who will have a better idea of the reality of the situation. In order for this to work, old-timers would need to be open to new ideas and newbies need to be open to hearing out the potential bullshit that might come with their fresh idealism.
Regardless of whether your role is an old-timer or a newbie in any given context, we will all have something to learn.
We’re all learning and growing in this existentialist weirdness called Life.
“The subject of this book is not typographic solitude, but the old, well-traveled roads at the core of the tradition: paths that each of us is free to follow or not, and to enter and leave when we choose – if only we knew the paths are there and have a sense of where they lead. That freedom is denied to us if the tradition is concealed or left for dead. Originality is everywhere but much originality is blocked if the way back to earlier discoveries is cut or overgrown. If you use this book as a guide, by all means, leave the road when you wish. That is precisely the use of a road: to reach individually chosen points of departure. By all means, break the rules, and break them beautifully, deliberately, and well. That is for one of the ends for which they exist.”
Posted at 12:26 pm by Gelene Celis, on November 8, 2015
…is a photography book by Pierre de Vallombreuse (Bayonne, France)
…the title also roughly translates to “Sovereign: The Peoples Whose Women are Free”
Searching for an alternative to the patriarchal societies often found in Western countries, French photographer, Pierre de Vallombreuse journeyed to Southeast Asia to document the fascinating lives of indigenous people in cultures that place equal or even more value on women. Taking a humanistic approach to an anthropological question, de Vallombreuse used his camera to explore the progressive traditions of isolated communities that have remained untouched by globalization and technology.
“Most of the cultures in Southeast Asia are more based on equality than domination,” the photographer wrote to us in an email. For this series Souveraines, which was commissioned by Arthaud Publishing, de Vallombreuse selected four remote cultures where women play decisive and central roles in governance and spirituality—the Khasi, a matrilineal and matrilocal society in northeastern India; the Palawan, a non-hierarchical community in the Philippines; the Mosuo ethnic group in China; and the Badjao, a sea-dwelling group that prefers boats to houses.
De Vallombreuse told us that some of the most striking things he observed in these societies included “fluidity, simplicity, and normality” between men and women. “This should be normal everywhere,” he said.
“Equality, mutual respect between the sexes, freedom to all; some traditional societies grant women leading social and spiritual roles,” the series description reads on the website of Galerie Argentic, where Souveraines is currently on display in an exhibition. “Among these peoples, women, recognized for their uniqueness and skills, are masters of their destiny.”
As for being a solo female traveller: I’ve just done it so many times at this point that it wasn’t even something that I was that worried about. It’s only the second time I backpacked though, like ever, and solo. I did bring a portable door lock and someone advised me about putting some hot sauce in a spray container (brilliant) because I can’t bring pepper spray on board. I never had to use it though I kept it in hand for times when I was freaking out since I was, statistically speaking, a perpetrator’s best bet. Other than that, I was actually walking in the dark, at night, during some points in the more rural areas where people are less corrupt. The rule of thumb is that the bigger the population, the more likely you are to get ripped off. I got ripped off a total of probably about $50 CAD (2,000 PHP). In the Philippines, that can get you about 5 decent meals, public transportation for getting around in a city for a day, possibly a souvenir or two, and a pack of cigarettes.
Gelene 