Lake Sebu: An Enchanting Place

Lake Sebu is a must-see place here in South Cotabato...Most of the land here are part of ancestral domains of the T'boli's, and with foreign and government aids, concrete roads were paved to make the area accessible to locals and especially to tourists. Travel has been very comfortable hence. There was a time when it was dirt-road all the way and when it rained, mudslides stranded the travelers. Now, one could enjoy the scenery sans humps and bumps. Well, that's not counting the dirt-road which diverts from the main road and leads to the private resorts . It's a short trip from there that's bearable anyway. This place, Lake Sebu, is so simple and rustic, although one will see  modern houses sprouting here and there. The general attractions here, aside from the two lakes (Lake Lahit and Lake Sebu) and the lush greenery all around, are the waterfalls which are accessible by hiking a few kilometers into the forest.  Lest we forget, there's the zipline purportedly the highest in Asia.

People living here are quite sociable when among themselves, as they gather in groups for chats at a neighbor's verandah, or outdoor bamboo benches built under shady trees. The people are generally timid, but very helpful when asked for directions. The kids are more amicable, waving hello or goodbye at strangers, flashing their toothy/toothless grins.

There is a museum that showcases T'boli craft, especially the loom and its products.  It's a low  house made of bamboo and wood.  Another house sells local crafts made by T'boli women, and the industry is supported by a Japanese institution.

Similar crafts sold at stores along the way are mostly made by the T'bolis themselves...from the bead accessories to the ethnic blouses to the famous T'nalak cloth which elder women weave in traditional looms. I surmise that it's the men who make the small bronze figures of bells and gongs which, I was told by a native, are moulded into shapes by burying them in the ground. How it is done, only the T'boli smiths could explain. The end-product looks very antique, as well as ethnic. If you are an expert at haggling, then good for you, and good luck, because these people know how to fix a good price for each item.

Traveling Back In P.E. Time, Part 2: Mountain Trekking in Laguna

"Leave nothing but footprints. Take nothing but pictures. Keep nothing but memories.  Kill nothing but time."--This was what our PE Prof kept reiterating to his PE class that decided to embark on a mountain trekking as a second outdoor activity for the semester.  It was a low-impact camping class, so we were to do trekking instead of climbing.  Again Professor Ronnie Dizer received help from his fellow Mountaineers who escorted us all the way.

The whole group took a bus going to Famy, Laguna. I remember we got off, not at a proper terminal, but in front of a small sari-sari store.  From there we abandoned the main road and moved deep into a coconut plantation (well, more like green pastureland sheltered by towering coconut trees).  I could say this was a normal route trekkers always took.  Our Mountaineers knew the trail by heart.
Well, remember, this happened over a decade ago, so things would certainly have changed between then and now.  So keep on reading, I cannot write this any other way but  flashback.

The Mountaineers escorted us head and tail, meaning some of them led, and some of them fell behind.  We went  past some grazing animals, past some farmhouses made of bamboo and other light materials.  After more than a hundred meters or so, we were moving into  the woods, with no dwellings in sight, although sporadically there would appear  an abandoned ramshackle shanty that looked so melancholic as it stood under some clumps of  trees.

We waded through  ankle-deep, knee-deep and waist-deep rivers.  Then we were moving uphill but we hardly noticed it.  The conversations and the laughters of the fellow trekkers kept our minds off the trail.

We realized the uphill trail only when we had to climb a steep part, holding on to the rope that  one of the Mountaineers ahead tied to a tree.  I thought it was going to be difficult given the fact that we'd come a long way from the drop-off point and our legs were already so tired .  But I managed to go up without a whine.  This was the time my prof said he was beginning to worry about me, but he was surprised that I held up so well.  I just smiled but deep inside of me I was wishing I could turn back and go home.  But that was just a thought, really. I was enjoying the trek, because everyone was chirpy.  We were all doing fine and ecstatic, especially when we got to the highest point and we had a vantage view of how far we had come.  We have reached Siniloan.

We've come from way down there, beyond the second hump.    By the time we reached this point it was already  mid-day We had to hurry so we could reach our campsite before dark.

We had to be very careful because the trail was slippery.  Throw in the fact that we had no guide ropes to hold on to this time.  The Mountaineers decided not to make our life too easy lest we not savor the experience after this trip. 

We managed the steep by clinging on to shrubs, leaves and roots of trees.  We were thick with mud all over.  Once we were all down at a clearing we were led to a curve and were overwhelmed by the sight that greeted us--the majestic Buruwisan Falls.  It was indeed jaw-dropping as we gushed with oohs and aaahs!

THE Buruwisan Falls.
 It falls powerfully into a wide catch basin and the water  magically turns emerald green

That challenging descent that we took was actually the altitude of the waterfall!  Some daredevil trekkers could have rappelled their way down. 
Or could have jumped from the top?  
I didn't know if the last option was possible or safe.

Tired bodies embraced the cool and refreshing water with great gusto, frolicked like little kids.  We stayed their for an hour, relaxing. Some opted to stay at the rim of the basin, sitting on rocks and logs; some braved the currents and swam up to the drop.  Everybody was having fun.

It was getting dark so we left the enchanting place hesitantly.  All wet but refreshed, we followed the shallow stream that led to our campsite.  There were a few houses there, and some sari-sari stores.  The Mountaineers chose our area, a rocky part of land beside the stream, quite far from the houses.  There we pitched our tents and waited till dinner time.  Our fees included a simple dinner, which they prepared for us.  After dinner we gathered for some socials--just talks, jokes, anecdotes. Everybody was relaxed and just enjoying the company.

Huddled around our single source of light, a Petromax, we were like little children listening to some bedtime stories that our 'kuyas' shared from their experiences as Mountaineers.  

They even taught us a chant that allegedly would lead us to self-realization.  Recite the chant and it will dawn on you. Once it happened, fall out of the circle and be very quiet, until everybody has fallen out and the circle is empty. 

 So we  mustered concentration, followed after Prof Dizer as the somber musical chant escaped from his mouth syllabically, and fell out of the circle one by one.  We sat in the  back quietly, avoiding each other's eyes lest the others see the emotions being held back by every individual.

Unfortunately, there was one single soul who took a very long time to achieve his self-realization that it was the chanter, Prof Dizer, who finally gave up.  

When he threw his arms up in the air  in  concession, we all broke into guffaws, literally rolling on the ground holding our tummies and tears streaming from our eyes.

The chant?  Now concentrate, try this slowly, somberly, seriously,  and achieve your own self-realization: aaah---bbbhaygaaahh---goophalaaaaa--kooooow.....

Look closely at what we were having to combat the cold of the night.  Most of us decided not to change into our dry clothes.  We were taught to travel very very light.  And the next day was going to be super-wet anyway.

Super-wet, because we had to cross streams and rivers to get to the next site: the Tatlong Palanggana Falls.  This is a set of waterfalls that looked like small basins in gradual sizes. That's the origin of the name.  The smaller waterfall at the top is called Tabu-tabo Falls, which collects into the smallest catch basin that drains out into the Palanggana Falls, the catch basin of which  is slightly larger than the first and drains out into the Batya-batya Falls which in turn drains out into a much bigger pool of green water.  Their names are derived from Tagalog terms all referring to water tubs in different sizes: "tabo, palanggana, and batya."

This is on the second level. You can cross the deep going to the highest level, the Tabu-tabo, by grabbing the guide rope and pulling yourself  up. To get down from there, you'll have to jump to the water, grabbing the guide rope and pulling yourself again back to the rocks.

That's me, being pushed to jump, because I was such a coward. I wasn't a confident swimmer. (I did get a 'kalabasa' award in Red Cross from way back in high school because I was such a slow learner)

Traveling Back In P.E. Time, Part 1: Overnight at Pico de Loro

It can't be helped, old pictures will surely get dug out from deep under their hiding places. Reminiscence will take over.  Just like now.

This afternoon I embarked on a memory-preservation project. Mission: save old pictures from further dilapidation by preserving them in digital mode.  Scan and save.

I did unearth some college photos taken in 1990 when my PE class went camping on two occasions: one in a beach, and another up the mountains.  Both times brought  much-needed breaks in the humdrum of my college life.  Both times, too, tested my stamina for long treks and bus rides.  I'd say I did well, which surprised my PE professor. I didn't know he was keeping his eyes on me until he told me he was impressed that I could carry on without much trouble.  Did I really look that softie? :-)

My classmates and I, on a 30-minute boat-ride to Pico de Loro in Nasugbu, Batangas, to camp for two days in a beach cove that looked like one of the virgin beaches in Palawan.   Before we took this ride, we had lunch at a barangay captain's house where we stayed for a couple of hours to rest after hours of sitting on  a bus from Manila.  The boatride was fun, fun, fun because my classmates were full of humor.  I can't remember their names now, except of that girl on the left...her name is Baby.  She was my camp buddy.

Pico de Loro is just one of the  coves off Nasugbu.  There are a dozen others.  Back then, it was a rustic, very remote getaway sans amenities.   There were the lush trees, the fine sand, and the clear waters.  Guests had to bring tents for shelter.  Now the area is a prime development that boasts of modern facilities and recreational activities.

Breakfast by the sea.  

We were accompanied by members of the UP Mountaineers who were there to assist our PE Prof who himself was a member as well.  The guy in black on the right, we called him Peewee.  He wasn't a classmate, so he must have been a Mountaineer.  There were other groups, by the way, which are not shown in the pictures. There were four or five  boats that carried us all to the cove.

Our Day 2.  Baby and I were ready to go, but the boys weren't.  For them, the water was just too irresistible.  The evening before was filled with games and stories, and some drinking. Nobody was spared.  I literally crawled back to the tent because a capful of gin tonic hit me in the knees.  I'm pretty sure the boys had gone creative and mixed something more into the bottle which got passed around on the beach.

The new Pico de Loro is well-equipped, hence there are some world-class restaurants with great food to fill hungry stomachs.  Weekend vacations will always be very convenient, fun-filled and leisure is maximized. Arrangements can be made over the internet, which makes it all the more convenient.

 Despite the "high-rises" in the area, the contemporary architectural designs conform with nature and do not violate the serenity that people expect to find far away from the noisy urban life. Although for how long, we can't really tell. Commercialization always seem to devour naiveté.

Rainbow Connection

I remember when I was a  child I'd literally jump with naive joy whenever I'd  see a rainbow. I'd even call the attention of my siblings and friends, and together we would marvel happily at the fascinating vision of it.  We'd jump with joy, we'd dance and sing its name.  And then we'd try to imagine what it's like at the end of the rainbow. Is there really a pot of gold down there?  Our joy is greater when the rainbow is one full arc, greatest when there are two.  I couldn't really explain the happiness it brings, but a rainbow is always a magical thing.  Even now, I still find pleasure in seeing a rainbow.  It  brings back joyful childhood memories.  But not only that...the strip of colors splashed across the sky momentarily obscures the cares I have in  my mind and in my heart.

Highway scenery, after the rain.

Fleeting though it may be, a rainbow is always exhilarating, intoxicating, enchanting.   It is a symbol of happiness, of hope, because after the somber rain somewhere, the rainbow appears mysteriously to brighten up the sky.  Whoever sees it, his spirit is uplifted.  A tinge of cheerfulness begins to form in his bosom and extends into a smile in his face. It  must be the colors. Or the thought that beautiful things happen when they are least expected.  Or the thought that God is smiling, hence, we should smile, too.  That's the effect of the rainbow, the mystical connection between the heaven and the earth.

SUNSETS ARE ELUSIVE POEMS

 I love sunsets, who doesn't?  Poets use it to symbolize a going-over-to-the-verge, like aging, or death.  But as beautiful as sunsets are, so are aging and death.  Though as yet, of course, I still wanna be where I am today, gathering rosebuds while I may.

It's true one may experience a sinking feeling looking at the sunset as it transforms  from soft pastel to raging brilliant to dark.  But it also gives a feeling of serenity, of home.

I am so fortunate to be living where I have lived in the past ten years because I see sunsets from my windows.  The sky gradually turns orange just beyond, behind the thick leaves of the Norfolk trees, or on  top of the mountains. 


 I love it so when the orange and the purple interplay with the clouds.  Just because of this scenery I resolve that the world is a beautiful place to live in, and I don't wanna leave just yet.  I wanna witness a million more sunsets, anywhere.

Sunsets are elusive poems, they are never the same each time I look at the western skies.  How do you preserve the memory of a sunset when it changes everyday?  ##