Traveling Solo: Sawad-dee-kaa, Thailand

Solo flight. That was me, some days back. I had to fly to Bangkok alone to be with hubby in the next couple of weeks.  It's not my first time to fly solo, but hey, it's my first time to fly solo out of the country. And having been used to traveling this far only when hubby takes me along with him, oh, boy, was I so scared. Scared to be alone in the crowd. Scared of making mistakes and making a fool of myself big time.  

But, y' know, once you've put your one foot forward, there's no backing out.  Your next steps are easy. Of course, the jitters are there, but they do fade away.  Your nerves calm down. You learn to just go with the flow. Because that's exactly what you do. Follow the crowd, go with the flow. Just make sure that it's the right queue you're getting into.  And don't be afraid to inquire from the right people (people with airline IDs) if you get confused with the signs.

It was actually exciting, trudging along inside the airport, looking for the right counter to check into.  I arrived too early, was among the first few to check in, and so had the privilege to be asked if I would like a window seat. Yeah, sure, I'd like one.  Clouds are a great sight to behold when you're up there. Great distraction, if you couldn't sleep.  Well, I did fall asleep. I had to close the window as the sun was streaming in too brightly for comfort. I woke up when food came. Yummy PAL food.  Yey, there was ube ice cream!

When the plane hovered low over Suvarnabhumi Airport, I peered through the small window and marveled at how organized the landscape looked, and wondered why back home it's way different.  And how beautiful the airport structure is. Once inside the airport I was again impressed at the immensity that greeted me.   The immensity that again awakened the jitters in my stomach. 

I made sure I didn't  lose sight of the passengers who were in my plane.  Where they go, I go, and I'm sure to get out of the airport smoothly.  But at one point I lost them. I followed the arrows that led to the Immigration.  Got distracted by the sign that said something about visa upon arrival.  Should I proceed to that area? I continued to walk along, then realized, hey, I'm here on temporary visit, have a passport, and  I wasn't told about securing any visa.  

So I turned around and realized I lost those familiar faces!  They went the other way! Have to find them, nooooo!  Tracing my way back, I was kicking myself in the butt for being so stupid! Oh, dear, there are so many gates to choose from, now which one is the right one?  I came to a familiar vast hall where there are lots of beelines. Now which line should I choose? Hey, there they are, the Pinoy group! Haha, you could tell because they are a bit noisy, giggly, and of course, the language! Rushed up to join the queue, and was greeted by smiling faces. I smiled back. Feeling relieved, thank God for friendly people!

Pinoy will always be Pinoy. Everytime a new line is announced open, they would  rush to it excitedly to be the first in the line. I followed them three times and decided to stay put. My shoulder was aching from the heavy bag I had with me. Goodness, why did I have to bring my whole dresser with me?!? Next time I'll bring with me a smaller, lighter bag bearing just my purse, passport, airline tickets, and some gum! (Crossing my fingers on that!)

At the immigration counter, I had this silly thought of what ifs, like what if this guy inside the booth decides that there is something wrong with my passport, and calls security and they throw me in jail? Silly thoughts, didn't I just say so? It's just my wild imagination.  After going through my passport, the guy in his late fifties,  (I assumed his age basing on how gray his mop of hair was and how plenty his wrinkles were. :-P )...throws me a cursory glance, stamps away at my passport, and sends me off with a wave of his hand.  

At the baggage carousel 9, spotted my luggage immediately. It was the only one there with a pink ribbon tied around the handle.  Grabbed it and headed to the gate where I'm supposed to meet my hubby.  Saw Cel's smiling face first, then hubby follows.  Oh, familiar faces, now am afraid  no more.  Sawad-dee-kaa, Thailand! :-)

Coron, you're the man!

SIX DAYS is not enough to explore and enjoy Coron.  The place is replete with adventures with nature.  This place is for the toughies, for those who do not mind getting  dark and dry skin and matted hair after so much exposure to the sun and the saltwater.  Oh, not to mention that it's inevitable to get some bruises and scrapes, too.  But it's all worth it.


Islands that look like sleeping animals or gigantic rocks? Giant clams with blue or lavender lips?  Sea creatures of various kinds and colors?  Wow, it's all too magical!  Indeed, under the sea there's a fantastic world too beautiful to ever imagine.  Words cannot capture the exhilaration I feel about the place. If Coron were a human being, I'd say: Coron, you're the man!


If you wanna satisfy your curiosity about this wonderful place, then come, but  be ready  physically, and financially, of course. Emotionally? Don't worry, Coron will take care of that!

Where to stay in Coron.  We stayed in GMG hotel. It's fairly new, or newly renovated, and offers bed and breakfast accommodation.  There are many other places to stay: Seadive, Kokus Nuss, Asian View Hotel, EcoLodge, and Crystal Lodge, among others.


New places spring up, old places close down. So it's best to check recent information in the internet.  There's a BPI  ATM near GMG, and most hotels accept major credit cards.



What to do in Coron.   Don't miss the 700 plus steps up Mt. Tapyas.  There's  a view deck up in the hill with a giant cross as landmark.  We missed Mt. Tandalara; they say it's higher by 200 steps.

Left: The giant cross on top of Mt. Tapyas.
Right: The wharf, as seen from the top.

The Calauit Island boasts of a safari built during the Marcos regime.  You can spend an hour or so, or even the whole the night here.  Overnight accommodations are available.You get to  meet up-close and feed those adorable doe-eyed giraffes.  There are zebras and deer as well. Caged animals include porcupines, a Malayan civet cat, a monkey, an eagle.  These are for tourist viewing only.  The rest of the animals are in in the wild.

Bottom right: Why are they called "umbrella trees" again?

Call me Durian.

Keep off.  No ifs and butts.

Island hopping is the main activity in Coron.  You must try  Banana Island; that's where the giant clams are, and it's a very good place for swimming.  You can also stay overnight here, arrangements can be made.

Banana Island

Malcapuya Island:  White sand, pristine waters!

Day tours will take  you to Kayangan Lake, Malcapuya Islands, Cuyo Island, Banol Beach, CYC Beach (under reform, currently) Twin Lagoons, Barracuda Lake, Siete Pecados, and many more.

Some beach resorts are in small pockets, some are partly hidden in coves.

Interesting rock formations can be seen along the way.

And you also meet people traveling between islands either from home or from work.

Aside from sightseeing and island hopping, you can do hiking, swimming, kayaking, fishing and scuba diving.   The WW2 shipwreck sites are a must, especially for divers!

You can also spend quiet time sitting in a pool in Maquinit Hot Springs. Hot, as in hot!

Or you can take a walk in the park, sit back and relax on one of these benches. 

Or watch the sunset and contemplate.

Although there are night spots and videoke houses, too, don't expect to party in Coron because this place is quite timid.  It's purely for nature tripping.  A real getaway from the chaotic city life. Most tourists stay up for quiet beers and languid chats. After that they retire and get up early for the next day trip.


Day tours are organized, and different operators offer comparable prices.  It's okay to give small tips to tour guides and boatmen after the tour.  They'll easily win your hearts because they're helpful, courteous and kind.


What to bring in Coron.   Since most tour packages require you to get wet, put on your swimwear under something light, like dri-fit shirts and shorts, tanks and tubes.   It's okay to wear these the whole day, people don't mind.  But for ladies, if you aren't  too comfortable with just the said get-ups,  then you may bring along some wrap-arounds. Those colorful sarongs are good protection against the sun, the cool winds or the admiring stares.  Board shorts are popular, too, for men. (PS: Hey, I didn't mean it's ok to go around town in flimsy swimwear, keep them under covers! I meant shorts and sexy tops are okay, nothing vulgar... :-))


Next, comfortable footwear.  Aqua shoes are good.  Flipflops are okay,  but some steps to climb may be slippery.


Snorkels are available for rent, but bring along your own pair of goggles for swimming because, of course, the salty water will surely get into your eyes. And snorkels aren't great for swimming, but without them you will never get to enjoy the corals and everything in its habitat.


Don't forget your sunblock. If you've just peeled your face, be very afraid of the sun. Told you, this place isn't cosmetic-friendly.


Bring a pair of good dark sunglasses. Your eyes will need protection while your boat is sailing, and from the glare of the sun.  A wide-brimmed hat will add style to your summer look but be sure you can secure it from the wind. Otherwise, forget it.  Some hotels will let you bring their towels to the tours for a fee.


Be ready with your antihistamines.  Just to quell any allergies, if you have.  You might not be able to resist seafoods, which are great, especially the crabs! And the fish, so fresh!  Meals are included in tour packages; of course, the operators will provide you with their specialty. Yes, you can choose dishes from the menu.


Prepare a mini-first aid kit in a small waterproof tote.  Throw in some motion sickness meds and pain killers, too.  The waves aren't really too strong, though. Just be ready for rough places.


Waterproof you camera; bring extra batteries.  If you can bring an underwater camera, that would be great.


Where to eat in Coron.  There are lots of places to dine in Coron.  Kokus Nuss looks so homey even from outside.  Seadive offers European dishes, among others.  Delectable, worth the price.  Everly Garden offers native dishes. Bistro Coron, Serenita,  Kokie....these are the ones near our hotel, and these are decent places offering yummies where you won't feel you've been ripped off.   Plus, you don't have to dress up for fine dining. Casual or sporty will do.  And, patience is a virtue. :-)


What to take home from Coron.    Souvenir shops  abound. They sell handicrafts with shell embellishments, wood crafts, and clothes.  Some shops sell packed cashew nuts and dried fish, too!


And of course, the memories.  Priceless.

RE-ZIPPING IT

I've written about my first ever experience to go ziplining in Lake Sebu, with colleagues and peers.  It was a BLAST in the very sense of the word.  Now my next entry, what do you say, is about my second time to go ziplining in Lake Sebu, again, this time with my students.  Guess what, the thrill was the same, but my behavior wasn't.

All set to fly!

For when during the first time I was with peers, I had the liberty to let it all out; this time that I was with the young ones, I had to feign control.  I had to show that I was brave so that I would infect them with courage...otherwise most of them would have all backed out, as I was again first to go.  In other words, no screaming!  Hah, that's what you think! I was screaming as loud as I could...inside.  Screaming silently...hah, such oxymoron.  Now I know it's for real.

Almost there!

Anyway, the experience was different this time, too, for I was able to look down and enjoy the view somehow.  (Another oxymoronic expression: I was looking down on  treetops.)  I reigned in my voice because I didn't wanna scare the kid I was zipping with.  Yeah, I didn't wanna give him a heart attack, haha!

But y'know what, in the next trip going back, I kinda screamed a bit because I got frightened by the jolting feel that wasn't there the first time.  I found out the guys operating the zipline were jerking the cable to give us a bit of a scare, just for kicks.  I told them when I got off not to do the same with the kids because I didn't want the young ones scared or worried.  Thankfully they heeded my request.

It was the same as when I was with my peers...the kids waited for the rest to arrive at the final landing and rejoiced at every "arrival"...tight hugs, congratulations, ecstatic smiles, wobbly knees but lifted spirits...I told you, everybody becomes fraternal after the hurdle.  I'm sure it was  an experience they'll never forget. :-)

VENI, VIDI, VI-ZIPPED!

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.--Helen Keller

Daring, indeed...for who would try to fly hill to hill with harness on your back instead of wings? It may be just a minute or less, but hey, it's gotta be the scariest minute of your lifetime.   

I'm ranting about the zipline experience I had in November, 2010 during the tour to Lake Sebu of the Faculty Union Congress  delegates.  Yeah, that was just late last year.  I never thought I would. What's an acrophobic like me doing up there in that platform getting harnessed and all and released without warning to the loooooooooooooooooooong cable like a superhero flying in the air? 

I refused to think.  I just went with the flow, with the prodding of my colleagues.  I had to tell myself, back out and this is gonna be your lifetime's one minute of shame.  How can I look them in  the eye ever again had I chickened out?  I'd hate myself  forever for being so jaundice.  So, okay...let the moment come.  It's only a minute, after all.  One minute of fame?  One minute of SCRREeeeEEAAAaaaAMMMmmm!!! 

So I chose to go first, so that everybody's eyes are on me...so that I wouldn't have the guts to back out.  Mayong wanted to go first because he had to attend to other delegates, so okay, I'd go with him. 

First in line, after the photographer went ahead 

as advance party

  

Masking apprehension with smiles.

On the platform, I felt like I was being prepped for the guillotine.  My legs were going queasy.  I was getting cold and scared, onset to hypertensive attack.  

  

I put on  a smile, gave a nervous laugh, practiced my screaming pitch... should I go alto, soprano, or bajo?   
As it turned out, I went suuper-duuper shrill and high... and...oh, there's just no name for it.  Mayong said later, earwax-shattering! 

I barely took in the beauty of nature spread before me as I zipped through the air.  I did look, but not long enough to really take in details.  I was busy getting scared.  Mayong tried so hard to divert my attention from screaming, but  to no avail.  I did look when he said look, but I was still screaming.


How high was high?  Lake Sebu's zipline is said to be the highest in the country.  Oh, God be with me, Mayong was not enough to give me courage.  But his presence was more than I needed to keep my wits intact while we traversed the line from point A to point B.  He didn't know, maybe, but I was praying as I was screaming.  I didn't know multi-tasking could ever be possible under  such circumstances when you'd rather have your mind go blank and your feelings numb just so you won't feel so terrified/petrifed/horrified and all the other -fied the great Thesaurus could ever provide.  And, oh, mind you, point B was more horrifying than point A. Read my lips: MORE...than.





Well, Mayong was Clark Kent and I was Lois Lane, judging from the picture taken of us as we were nearing the other side. I was screaming still even when we've  reached the end (it wasn't a peaceful ending, you'd better believe me!)...and we weren't zipping anymore but were just hanging there cooling down. Well, TRYING to cool down.   Tsk, tsk, the breaks just won't bite; I kept screeeeeeeching like mad.  

Okay, so there was a second cable to ride going back, and it's the same old story...only shorter. You really have no choice, if you wanna go back.  Take it, or roll down the slopes to get down to the falls and climb 700 steps up back to your other colleagues who said no to zipline.  

When we reached the finish line, been unharnessed and were back on our feet, I felt my knees wobble like tectonic earthquake, and I felt faint.  Probably Mayong was, too. With jelly legs we hobbled on to the little shops a few meters away from the landing, and sought for water. Aaah, ice cold!  Good enough to soothe our windblown nerves. After rehydrating we went back to the landing area to welcome the zipliners who dared after us.  The good thing about this experience is you feel like embracing every stranger who had been there, done that.  You all feel so fraternal all of a sudden. 

It takes a long time to get over the euphoria you feel after this experience.  I felt like I deserved a pat in the back from everybody for having been so brave.  I felt like, okay, I could do it better the next time around. I won't be as much afraid as I had been the first time. But...I really dunno.  Let time be the judge of that.  All I can say is, at one point in my life, I have dared to do something unthinkable, and I feel so proud of myself. OwSowprawdd.. No more what-ifs.  Veni, vidi, vi-zipped!!!!

MT. APO: Veni, Vidi, Vici

Mt Apo, 
Photo by Bong Maliwat

Four years ago, in April 2007, I climbed Mt. Apo with my hubby.  It was a very memorable climb for me because of two reasons:  first, it was my first time to go on a serious mountain climbing, not that I'd been on any  non-serious climb; second, I witnessed a young man drown to death in Lake Venado.

I've written about this in my Multiply, and I am re-posting the whole article here, with some revisions: 

Ian Caasi, that's the name of the boy who drowned, according to our porter, have come down from the peak and went straight to the cold lake with his friends, probably to cool down and get cleaned up.  (We ourselves had just arrived at the camp site from the seven-hour arduous walk from Lake Agco, the jump-off point where we stayed overnight. ) We saw them in the lake; they appeared to be having a great time.  I saw some figures swimming to and fro, and it even seemed like they were racing.  Then while we were pitching our tent we heard a commotion: people were shouting and running toward the lake.  One figure in the lake was waving his hands frantically, then disappeared.  The other was swimming toward him but returned to the bank for safety: he was starting to have cramps.  Another one jumped into the water to rescue the drowning person, but he surfaced not long after, empty-handed.  The water was too murky and too cold. And it was getting dark.  They could no longer find the man who sank at the bottom of the lake.  That man was still young, the son of the head of the mountaineering group that arrived at Lake Venado ahead of us.   Thirty minutes after all rescue attempts had failed and the boy's body didn't re-surface, he was declared dead.  Nobody could have survived under the freezing water that long.

The area where those mountaineers had pitched their tents was too quiet. Too grim.    The members of the group looked despondent.  Oh, who wouldn't be.  The death of the young lad seemed to have blanketed the area with darkness and have snuffed off  the enthusiasm that most of us brought to the climb.

 I felt a chill run down my spine.  The spirits in the lake had been disturbed, they said.  I looked at the peak.  It looked very foreboding--mighty, powerful, mysterious.  Why would people risk limbs and lives just to get there?  What's up there? After the seven hour trek from Lake Agco in Kidapawan, I now ask myself, why on earth am I here at almost ten thousand feet above sea level?

I didn't think I'd get through the night.  It was freezing despite an overlayer of wintercoat and  thick gloves we brought from our Beijing trip, as well as the double pairs of socks I had on.  I kept thinking what hypothermia was like.  Maybe it was like this.  

Morning Mist 
(Photo by Bong Maliwat)

When I got out of the tent the next morning, white  mist hovered over the lake, eerie, like ghost.  I overheard a local tell her companion that she thought she heard footsteps all over the place last night. I laughed in silence: of course there will be footsteps all over the place in the night, andami kayang tao ang nandito ngayon. May military pang dumating. 

After breakfast we secured our belongings and started our climb.  We had to reach the peak by lunch time so we could get back to the campsite before dark.  At first it was good, but after an hour I felt like giving up already.  I was having a hard time breathing.  My porter was just a few meters ahead of me.  A little girl never left my side.  I marveled at her stamina, despite the bottle of Royal Litro she was carrying, and a bag of goodies.  She didn't really ask me to buy from her, but after some time I bought two pieces of hard-boiled eggs from her, ate one and gave the other to my porter.  I would lie down on the grass or crouch under tall weeds and trees to hide from the sun, then struggle onward again.  From time to time I would look back down Lake Venado to see how the retrieval down there was progressing.  Two helicopters had arrived with scuba divers, and more military men.  People coming down would ask people going up about the incident.  Obviously, the grim story had been spread. 

The climb was getting tougher and tougher every minute.  I was feeling some heaviness on my chest, like something was weighing it down.  It was becoming difficult to breathe. At one point when we were resting I told my hubby to just go on and get to the top without me because I was slowing him down. At least one of us could get to the top.  So he went.  I still continued climbing but in my mind I said I'd stop once I meet my hubby on his way down from the peak.  But every person I met along the way who had been there would say, go on, it's not too far now, ten minutes more and you're there.  For every ten minutes that I'd progress up another happy face would be trotting along downhill and tell me, only ten minutes more, keep on, keep on.  So up I went, most of the time on all my fours, until I reached a clearing. It was just five more minutes away from the peak via a steep ascent.   

Then I saw my hubby coming down.  He was happy I made it afterall, so he climbed back to the top with me.  Our porters were grinning widely. Like my triumph was theirs as well.  We took pictures for our memoirs and took in all the sights our eyes could reach from up there. 

My hubby decided to 
conquer another peak, as there were three (?), while I stayed behind, chatting with a young fellow who  plopped beside me like a worn-out flat tire. 

The next challenge, the descent.  Because you're now so tired, you'd rather roll down or fling yourself into the air to get to the bottom, back to the campsite in no time at all.  But it was during the  downhill walk that I got to notice the flora of the mountain.  There were all sorts of ferns.  I wanted to take some with me but I knew they wouldn't make it. They'd die before I could even get back to Lake Agco.  I noticed, too, that there were very few trees around.  I saw several stumps that looked burnt.  I learned  from the porter that those were indeed burnt stumps as a result of a recent fire.  So that was why there were few trees around.   I also learned that some mountaineers who were with us at that time were there to do clean-up and tree-planting.

When we got back to the camp, as we emerged from behind tall green grasses, we were met by a loud applause from people who were already in the clearing.  A great welcome from those who themselves had conquered.  It was a moment of affirmation.  So everytime somebody would emerge from behind the tall weeds and  giant fern fronds, I would also welcome them with a clap, like everyone else was doing.  It was a very sincere moment of appreciation from people you didn't even know.  Everybody shared the same feeling of triumph: Veni, vidi, vici.


Caasi's body had not been found yet.  The rescuers said the water was too cold and murky, and they lacked certain equipment.  The helicopter had left and would be coming back the next day.  

The next day was our schedule to leave Lake Venado and head back for home.  It was like a great exodus.  So many people trailing one another, some silent, some chirpy. I found particular trails extremely difficult, like that part they call  80 degrees, or something.  I have fear of height, somehow, so to look down was a great source of terror for me.  There were also some kiss-the-wall trails. You have to hug the cliff as you trudge along narrow ledge made of bamboo: one slip and you fall down a bed of boulders some ten meters below. But despite all these difficulties, which was actually deja vu on the reverse (I'd been through the same trail going up), the thought of getting back to Lake Agco gave me so much to look forward to and be happy about.  Lake Agco meant only a few hours away from home.

On our way down we met reporters from GMA-7 going up to get a scoop on Caasi's death.  My hubby teased them for going to such great length as trekking seven long hours just to get a story.  It was indeed what you call legwork!

Along the way we passed by some pipes spewing fumes, obviously some geothermal activity by the PNOC which was operating in the area.  Likewise there were some very shallow brooks bubbling with hot water that emitted an unpleasant sulfuric stench.
Soon we were seeing the bend leading to a clearing that led to the main road. Some teenagers who had started to trek  back ahead of us were already converging in the bukana, resting or waiting for transport.  We passed them by and walked straight on to Lake Agco, which was a few meters farther away.  That was where we left our car a few days ago, and we hoped it was still there waiting for us faithfully.

When we got there in Lake Agco, a lot of people who were non-climbers filled up the two pools: the cold pool (a naturally- flowing cold spring which was turned into a tiled swimming pool) and the hot pool (dark murky  hot water which they said was good for the body).  We didn't go into any of the pool; instead, we headed for the cold showers, but since there were too many people using the showers I decided to wait till I got home to clean up. 


Anyway, I was too, too, too tired to even bother how I looked or smelled.  But amazingly, we didn't smell of sweat.  Our clothes were heavily soiled, though.  After a round of beer for the boys (hubby and the two porter-guides), we drove back home.  Along the stretch of highway in Kidapawan, there were lots of eateries that sold goat dishes.  We stopped at one such place to eat.  As we ate, we heard the news on TV: the body of Ian had been recovered. 

One of our porters, himself son of a veteran porter  and climber of Mt. Apo. 
 A talkative young man who told of jokes to keep us cheerful along the way.

Mt. Apo Joke

 -----as told by our porter-guide: 
An American asked his porter  how long it will take to get to Mt. Apo's peak.  The porter was a native of the place, and he didn't have a wide English vocabulary.  But somehow they two understood each other.  Here's how their conversation went:

American: What time should we start our trek?

Porter: Sir, good morning, sir!

American:  So what time are we going to reach the peak if we go straight on?

Porter: Sir, good evening, sir!

This one I got from here: 
  http://www.dyoks.com/jokes/joke.cfm?jokeid=18330

Mt. Apo Jokes

Guro: Juan, saan makikita ang Mt. Apo?

Juan: Aba, ewan ko sa inyo sir! Kung saan-saan nyo pinaglalalagay, tapos ako tatanungin nyo! Umayos nga kayo sir!  ####