Somewhere to Go on a Day Off

It's true, almost all malls here close at 5pm except on late night trading days and aren't even open on Sundays. If you don't like the scene at your local pub, you have to drive a good bit to get to where the real night life is (a bummer because it puts a crimp on your drinking). The central business district is literally a ghost town by 6 pm. I've been here almost a year, and some of my friends still can't fathom how I can survive in a place totally devoid of the buzz and bustle that is Manila without going out of my mind with boredom.

But what do I need all of the above for, when I can get to my own patch of paradise in less than an hour whenever I feel like it?



Due to the vastness of the WA coastline relative to the number of people living in it, you can pretty much drive anywhere along the coast, pick your patch of sand, and stake your claim on it for the day. It's almost as good as having your own private beach. And because Perth often gets picture-perfect, clear-blue-sky weather for most of the year, blowing a day off on the beach is just too hard to resist.

No wonder living here has totally fed my addiction.



This particular piece of paradise is on Safety Bay in the city of Rockingham, about a 60 minute drive from the Perth CBD but just a little under 40 minutes via freeway from where I live - and obviously one of my most frequent stops.

Creamy sand, clean blue-green waters, and a gently sloping shoreline with no dangerous undertow and no surf - yes, reminiscent of Boracay. It's perfect for forsworn water babies who aren't very strong swimmers like me. And because it's a fair distance from the Rockingham cafe strip, even on perfect summer day, I hardly have to share the beach with anyone.



Less than a ten minute drive up the road takes you to Shoalwater Marine Park, where scuba divers and snorklers can have a field day among shipwrecks and cavernous reefs surrounding the islands. I've never done it myself - but give me time, I'll get around to brushing up on my swimming skills and getting down there eventually.



In the meantime, I get my eye candy even on land as the scenic drive itself packs a wallop. The following shots (including the one above) were taken off the lookout on Cape Peron, which is also part of the Shoalwater Marine Park and a popular snorkeling spot. Even then, there aren't too many people - and it's so easy to get lost in the feeling that there's no one here but you and nature.



Back home, to get to somewhere similar to this, you'd have to travel at least as far out as Batangas - which means two to three hours of aggravation on the South Expressway.



And to think that this is just one of the stretches of coastline I frequent when I find myself staring a beautiful day in the face with no definite plans. I know, I know, I'm biased, being such a self-proclaimed beach freak living in a place where I can choose a beach to suit my mood. And once I've found my spot, it's mine, all mine!

Yes, I'm spoiled. Is it any wonder why I am absolutely in love?
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Disaster Queen Strikes Again

It's the last day of my long weekend, but, despite not having gone off somewhere far away as originally planned, I've had a fairly good one. Apart from the fact that I almost got hopelessly stuck in a beachside city of Rockingham last Friday with only twenty cents to my name after my car keys disappeared.

How could she be so stupid?, you must be asking yourself with a shake of your head. Believe me, I asked the same of myself several times the next few hours that followed.

The day started out pretty great - I'd managed to drive all the way to Freo to have lunch with a friend of mine who works there (her treat, which is always a good thing) and, as part of my resolution to use my long weekend right, I decided to go further afield to somewhere I'd never been before, let alone driven to. As I drove along Stock Road, veering towards the southern beaches, I even flirted with the idea of going as far as Mandurah - which is almost 80 kilometers out of Perth - but settled for Rockingham, which is just around 50 kilometers out.

As soon as I saw the almost swimming pool calmness of the turquoise waters and the golden sands from the foreshore, I was in love.

Much as I love the beautiful Aussie beaches, this was the first one I'd seen that had absolutely no surf. Which is a god-send for me because, while I know how to swim, I don't consider myself a strong enough swimmer to really spend too much time in the rough and ready waters of the beaches to the north. So, understandably, I completely abandoned my plans for sight-seeing and photo-ops for a chance to hit the beach instead.

I had a fun couple of hours just floundering alone around in the clear, calm water and doing a bit of baking in the sun (what's summer without a bathing suit tanline?). I had decided on a run along the foreshore to top off my idyllic summer day, having brought both my beach gear and running gear (one of the best things about having a car is that you can bring EVERYTHING with you), so I got out of the water with just enough time to spare for a shower, a run, and still be on my way home before dark. After walking in ignorant bliss to my car to get my running gear, I was completely shell-shocked to find that MY CAR KEY WAS NOT ON ME AT ALL.

So there I was, the solo traveler wannabe, staring helplessly at my locked car - where my handbag and wallet and all my money were - dripping with sea water from my afternoon frolic in the sun and close to tears. I could have sworn I had taken my car key with me when I changed into my bathing suit. But after having gone through each item inside my beach tote and laying them on the hood of my car one by one, I had to face the fact that IT WAS GONE.

In a stunned daze, I went to the shower rooms to change back into my street clothes to give myself time to regroup and figure out what to do. All my money was in the car, so I couldn't take public transport to the house (a two hour trip one way at least!) to get my spare key. There was only one way to get out of the scrape - call for help. Thankfully, I had the foresight to have my mobile phone with me, and promptly rang one of my co-residents the only person with a car who lives in my suburb.

Just my luck - he was on duty until 11 pm. Of course it was out of the question for me to wait for him until 11pm - this being Perth, all establishments close at 9pm at the latest. So we hatched a plan for me to get a cab back to Armadale, which he would pay for when I got there since I had no money on me, then drive back to Rockingham after his shift with my spare key so I could take my car home.

When my other Pinoy friends caught wind of the trouble I was in, they vetoed the plan and proposed an alternative - for them to pick me up instead. They would go to my house (at least 18 kilometers from where they lived) to get my spare key then drive the rest of the way to Rockingham (another 30 to 40 kms away). And they wouldn't take no for an answer.

It was so embarrassing to have to be rescued. Nonetheless, I was just so glad that I was near enough for them to be able to rescue me!

As a mortifying postscript to an already mortifying travel disaster, I found my car keys the next day under the piles of stuff inside my trunk. It must have fallen from my pocket or I must have tossed it in withe rest of my stuff when I was so excitedly preparing for my swim. OH MY GOD.

Er... Is this someone who thinks she can actually go on a solo holiday somewhere in the woop-woops? Go ahead, you can say it. Claire is a disaster area. I must be out of my fricking mind to even consider it!

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Prices Based on Twin Share

a panorama of Busselton Beach (2 hours out of Perth) by Dave Curtis

My itchy feet have been acting up again, and they, along with the unexpected gift of 4 days off coming up on my roster, have turned my thoughts to travel dreaming once more. After all, while I was in residency I couldn't stop complaining about how I never had enough time from the hospital to travel - so what kind of crazy fool would I be to pass up this opportunity?

Along those lines, I've put my OC skills to researching flight costs, bus fares, and accommodation costs - a painful reminder of the harsh reality that going places costs a pretty penny. Struggling to keep my penny-pinching side from screaming me into abandoning the idea completely, I determinedly plodded on, only to run smack-dab into another frustrating stumbling block.

In my quest to plan my first-ever solo holiday, I have come to discover that the travel industry is not at all kind to single wanderers. All the bargain holiday packages come with the following clause attached, "Prices quoted based on twin sharing."

It's almost enough to tear a single girl's hair out in frustration.

I've been having an inner debate on whether or not it would be a good idea to fly over east to Melbourne (where I've been several times before) to spend a few days with the relatives, versus traveling by myself to somewhere in the vast and beautiful state of Western Australia which I've never seen before.

Option A would definitely cost me less and be the safer and wiser choice - but where would be the adventure in that? I don't deny I'd enjoy seeing family again after six months of being totally cut off. But taking a plane ride or a long-haul bus ride to visit relatives at some far-away destination is definitely not the same as planning on a whole vacation - even a short one - entirely on my own.

On the other hand, every single girl should have at least one solo holiday under her belt. Despite my best intentions, I've never actually gone on a holiday solo. After proving I can be independent after my life-altering move to Perth, I figure it's high time I smashed through my self-imposed limits of needing a travel companion to indulge my insatiable wanderlust. And I figure there's no better time to do it but now.

Now if only the logistics would fall into place.

I still haven't booked where to go - a must given that it's the height of summer here and school holidays are in full swing - because I haven't quite made up my mind where to take my itchy feet. I'd love to drive my car over because in Australia a car is an absolute necessity when exploring the overwhelmingly huge countryside, but I'm not sure I'm quite ready for that yet. I can always take a bus from here to the country towns, but I won't have wheels to get from one attraction to another when I get there.

Then there's that irritating, totally discriminatory twin-share rate.

Obviously, at this point, I'm still in the process of trying to figure things out. I just know that one those four days off, I will not be in Perth and be off having an adventure somewhere - on my first-ever solo travel holiday. I'm open to suggestions... does anyone have any? Click here to read the rest of this post.

Like Starting from Scratch

After months of vacillating, I finally went out and bought myself a cheap little run-around car last Friday. The crazy thing is, while I have had it for two days, it's just been sitting in my driveway and I have been making one excuse after another not to take it out.

Okay, I admit it. I am terrified of taking it out. I live less than 2 kilometers from work, a distance which I walk every day, but I have yet to find the courage in my lily-livered heart to finally drive it by myself.

Having been a proficient commuter all my life, I'd never felt particularly motivated to learn how to drive - which is why I didn't really start driving back home until I was in my mid-twenties. Once I'd gotten the hang of it, though, I quickly fell in love with being behind the wheel - traffic mishaps, meandering journeys, and all. Driving was just such a great way to tune out and enjoy my own company in the comfort of my own car, going to where I wanted to go at my own pace. But, of course, getting to that comfort level was a long time in coming.

Unfortunately for me, I happened to choose a country where people drive on the other side of the road and where they have some pretty definite speed limits. For someone who has, under normal circumstances, always had a case of slight right-left confusion and is used to taking her sweet time in everything, this is something out of a nightmare.

It hasn't helped that my friends from back home and family all have such a huge level of confidence about my driving that they never fail to warn me in dire tones that driving here is very different and much more difficult - and to ask me if I was absolutely sure I could handle it.

No wonder I'm having tension headaches at the thought of having to take out my little hatch (with no power steering and manual transmission) anywhere on my own.

The last time I felt this twitchy about getting behind the wheel was at my first driving lesson back home. I've taken a few driving lessons here in a manual car, but I felt a lot more secure because there was someone beside me watching what I was doing and had his own set of pedals. The idea of driving alone to anywhere over here feels like I'm being shoved off the deep end of a pool, not knowing how to swim.

But if I don't start now, I'll end up putting it off and putting it off until it's time for me to go home.

Still all I've had the gumption to do by myself has been to park it into the driveway, back up into the road, and take it for a spin around the block - with my heart in my throat the whole time. And one of the first new lessons I've learned in my new car is that without power steering, I don't have to go to the gym to get a good upper body work up - all I have to do is maneuver into a parking spot.

I can do this. I've been driving for four years, for cripes' sake.

Now if I could only believe my own pep talk, I just might be able to take my car those two kilometers down to work tomorrow - even if I'll be driving on the other side of the road.

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Sun Worship

In a country where the vast majority of the population lives on the coast, the birth of a beach culture is inevitable. And in my city on the water, where beautiful beaches beckon a stone's throw away from the urban jungle, there's no better way to spend a fine spring day just hinting of the summer to come.

It's hard not to get sucked into the outdoorsy lifestyle of Perth. Apart from the fact that the odd commercial hours make it nearly impossible to hide in a shopping mall the whole day, the lure of the wide open spaces is pretty hard to resist. And with the advent of the warm weather, outside is the place to be.

I was vividly reminded of this when I gave into the impulse to visit one of the more popular beaches on the first warm weekend of the season. My once-almost-deserted recovery room was crawling with people, winter-pale and eager to start on their summer tan. It was probably the most number of people I've ever seen in one place since I got here. Peaceful giving way to festive, quiet filled by the raucous noises of beach lovers happy to see the last of winter.

I never used to pay much attention to the weather reports at home except when it was to hope on a storm signal high enough to get classes canceled (so you can imagine that this was eons ago!). These days I find myself tuning in to the news just to see what the weather is going to be like - specially if it's going to be on a day off - so I can make plans for it. To go for a run along the river. To spend time just chilling and people watching on my favorite beach. Basically, just to be out.

If the forecast says a fine sunny day, don't bother looking for me at home. Chances are, I'll be somewhere outside, happy on my own little spot of sand or grass, worshiping the sun.

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Water

the vivid colors of the indian ocean

It's not always easy being essentially alone in a city full of strangers. Being away from your usual support group makes it necessary for you to find ways to cope with the stresses that shake your world and the sporadic loneliness that comes with knowing that you are very much on your own. Some people get their fix from some retail therapy, others from comfort food. Some escape reality by watching a movie or indulging in a good book for a few hours.

Since I've been here, I've done a little bit of all of the above. But when things go really, really wrong and my mood can't get any lower, what else can a forsworn beach addict like me do but seek the water?

I've always loved the water. There is something about it that has always drawn me. Just being near the water is, for me, a major pick me up. There are some pseudo-scientific theories that say that this may have something to do with negative ions generated by the water splashing on the ground - who knows how true that is? Bottom-line is that I simply love the sound of the waves crashing on the shore, the brisk breeze coming over the water, the horizon that stretches out to forever and hints of possibility.

swan river foreshore in burswood park

One major upside of being in Perth is that it is so easy for me to tap into this unconventional, life-giving idiosyncrasy even if I don't actually live in a suburb anywhere close to the water.

I can hop on a train and be on the Swan River foreshore in a matter of minutes. In a little over an hour by public transport, I can be on any point of the magnificent Sunset Coast, a pristine, raw-sugar sand beach that stretches for miles and miles in either direction as far as the eye can see.

the sunset coast towards south to freo as seen from scarborough beach

When I am by the water, for that space of time, life's complications fall away. Loneliness gives way to a peaceful kind of solitude. It's hard to stay stirred up in the face of something so much larger than myself, ever-constant and ever-changing at the same time. After watching the rhythm of life played out on the water for endless hours, my beauty-loving soul is recharged - and the life in this city of strangers is just that more bearable.

Fate couldn't have chosen a better place for me to be while I am adjusting to life away from home than this beautiful Australian coastal city on the water.

(all photos are taken by me using a Lumix point-and-shoot camera.)
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Spring Promises

The mornings and nights are bloody cold, but numb toes are a small price to pay for the fine, sunny days and clear cloudless blue skies. Mild mid-day temperatures and a brisk fresh breeze accompanies winter as she gracefully exits stage left and gives the center stage to spring. The Western Australian landscape - which keeps its green through the cold winter - celebrates the coming of a new season by putting on a show of colors.

And I, addict of all things beautiful, am enjoying having a front row seat to the spectacle. It's hard to feel morose when the weather is warming up and the outdoors beckon.

Weekend wanderlust trumps need the to study any day, and, in true Perthite fashion, I decided to spend the day outside in the sun. In a city like Perth, you can never run out of parks to picnic in - but I couldn't resist the lure of King's Park just coming alive in the spring.

It was definitely worth the return visit. The wildflowers are just coming into bloom and the park is awash with color. King's Park is such a sprawl of space that begs you to just pick a spot for the day and dream.





With my bag of sushi take-away, I picked a shady area under one of the tuart trees and settled in. And wondered what the hell all the other picnicking locals were thinking when they picked a spot to picnic directly under the sun. I found out all too soon the answer to that particular question - despite the deceptively sunny weather, the wind in the park blew pretty damn cold.

It's hard to believe that a dyed-in-the-wool city girl like myself I would actually enjoy just sitting around on the grass with a book in hand and be content just watching the world go by. But I loved every minute of it. Who needs the mall when you could have all this beauty and atmosphere at your disposal for free?

Yes, I am definitely falling in love with spring - and Perth with it.

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On Flying Solo

Breakwaters at Cottesloe Beach

I hit my 2 month mark abroad this week, and it's beginning to sink in that this is not a mere vacation ending in a few more weeks but my "real life." As I settle into the routine, sometimes I wonder if by coming here in a bid for change and real independence, I got more "on my own" time than I've actually bargained for.

So far, I've been quite happy to explore my new territory alone, inspired by the beautiful locale and being somewhere completely foreign. I've always been used to doing things on my own and am capable of being quite happy with my own company. Still, I think that I may have reached the limits of my solitude. I am now yearning for the company of the motley crew that populated my life back home more, and it's also sinking in that they are, in geographic terms, completely out of reach - at least for the time being.

Don't get me wrong, it's been a great experience so far. Some people will say it's too early to tell, but I can say with conviction that the decision to come has been a good one. It's shoved me out of my comfort zone and has forced me to come out of my shell by necessity. It's teaching me a lot - about being self-sufficient, not taking myself too seriously, being open to and making the most of new experiences, reaching out and letting new people into my life.

Yes, I have already begun meeting people here and sowing seeds of friendships that will hopefully grow with time. To be honest, I am still quite amazed at how kind people can be to someone struggling to get her bearings in this unfamiliar place full of strangers. I've been pretty lucky in the people I've met here so far.

But I guess I just miss being around people with whom I have a shared history. Being able to hang around with people who know the inside joke without my having to say a word. Even if we all had our busy lives at home, I always know with conviction I could drag any of them out for coffee and a heart-to-heart if I sounded desperate enough.

Part of realizing that this is now where I live rather than somewhere I am just visiting is also realizing that I don't really have anyone here like that. At all.

And sometimes I'm afraid that in my bid for a drastic change in my life and some real independence, I've just traded one kind of loneliness for another.
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A Rainy Taste of King's Park

Any fine day in winter is too precious to be wasted, especially on a day off. So, undeterred by a dysfunctional camera, the lack of a car, and my growing pile of laundry, I decided to spend my Friday exploring one of my adopted city's most famous landmarks - King's Park. Between going outlet window shopping in the city despite not having much cash versus gorging on photo-ops despite not having a proper camera, there really was no contest.

Armed with my trusty folding umbrella, the Perth guidebook I brought from home, and the bus and train schedules, I was all set. My inner wanderlust was looking forward to a great day drinking in some serious natural beauty in the gargantuan sprawl of genuine bushland and manicured gardens that remains outstanding in this city where parks and open spaces seem to be a dime a dozen. At over 400 acres, it is reputed to be the third biggest inner-city park in the world.

Even without a car, King's Park is quite accessible by public transport. There are buses you can catch around the city that can take you straight into the park - Bus 37 - and all hop-on-and-hop-off guided bus tours will also take you around. But for people with a limited budget and no aversion to walking, the Red CAT bus - one of three bus services going around the central business district which you can ride for free and can catch right outside the Perth Underground train station - works just fine. Just get off at the Havelock Street stop and follow signs pointing the way.

Which is what I did. But as I was walking down Havelock Street, my fine day suddenly took a turn for the worse - and I had to scramble for my umbrella to keep from being drenched by a cold winter shower. Undeterred and commited - there was no point in turning back now when almost half the day was gone - I plodded on, my lesson on fickle winter weather and having a sense of humor when traveling well learned. The bone-deep chill of walking in the winter rain was quickly forgotten, though, when I found myself under the canopy of Fraser Avenue's magnificent lemon scented gums as I walked into the park.



From its perch high above the city on the western side of town, the park offers magnificent views of the Perth CBD skyline, the mighty Swan and Canning Rivers, and all the way the hills of Perth in the horizon. Bemoaning the loss of my camera, I took a couple of photos with my camera phone for posterity. I even got a nice old gentleman, who was decked in full raingear with his wife in a matching set, to take my picture against the backdrop of Perth city in the distance.



Under the shelter of my little umbrella, I oohed and ahed over the lush greenery, the magnificent old jarrahs and breathed deeply of the smell of rain and the hint of eucalyptus. I followed the walkway and marveled at the strange, exotic looking plants whose names I didn't know but were pockets prettiness that warranted a picture. The wide open spaces were nearly all mine with the exception of a smattering of fellow tourists.



There are volunteer guides who take interested visitors around the park at certain times daily for free - anyone can get a brochure with the schedules in the park tourist information center. There are different kinds of walks - some which go through the botanic gardens, others going as far as the heart of the park's bushland - lasting about an hour to two hours depending. The kinds they offer also vary on the season, with more lengthier walks offered in the spring and summer when the park is alive with people.

I wanted to the visitors' center with the intention of joining a group doing the walk on the scheduled time - only to find myself all alone in front of the sign announcing the guided walk schedules. Apparently everyone else must have known about the weather forecast and were sane enough to stay in the warm indoors instead. Torn between cutting my losses while the rain had ceased temporarily and sticking to my guns, I was forced into a decision when the guide for the afternoon - a lovely lady named Inge, who must have been about 65 at the least because she says she has memories of what Perth looked like 50 years ago when she first came over - asked me if I wanted to go on the guided walk. Unwilling to deprive her of her solitary audience, I agreed and was glad that I did.

Inge took me around the botanic gardens and told me many interesting tidbits about the highly specialized native flora of Australia planted through the garden. Australian plants have had to develop unique survival tactics in order to exist in the continent's poor soil and harsh conditions, and my inner nerd really enjoyed hearing all the interesting factoids about them. There were also many pockets of prettiness that just begged for a picture - like this one, at the Water Garden section of the walk.



One of this guided walks' highlights was going on an elevated walkway about 60 meters above the ground, which cuts through the trees and lets you see the canopy at eye level rather than from the ground. The vantage point is amazing, and it literally offers a gorgeous bird's eye view of part of the park.



There are certain tree-lined streets within the park which have been made into Honour Walks. All the trees along these streets have been planted for or dedicated to young Australian soldiers who have died in both World War I and II. There are small plaques in front of each tree in remembrance. I think it's a wonderful kind of living memorial that goes on after you have passed. I would love to have someone plant a tree in memory of me when I am gone, too.



There's a section of the botanic garden dedicated to the memory of the pioneer women of Western Australia. (Did you know that WA was the second place in the world where women were allowed to vote?) In the paved walk going through it, there are inscriptions and replicas of sculptures made by prominent Australian artists that represent what women have given to their society over the past two hundred years and more. Among all of them, this one was my favorite.



My guided walk with Inge lasted about an hour and fifteen minutes, and at the end of it, I knew one thing for sure - I am definitely going to be back. Inge says the best time to go will be in spring, when all the wildflowers are in bloom and everything is gorgeous and even greener.

Anyone who comes to Perth should not miss a visit to King's Park. A day spent under the wide, vividly blue sky, surrounded by open spaces in this oasis of green in the heart of the city is just what one needs to refresh the spirit and make one realize just what a wonderful world it is we live in. Seriously. Rain or no rain.
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R.I.P.

For some weird reason, all of my gadgets have started acting up on me ever since I flew them over here. Just last week, my CD drive suddenly disappeared from my laptop... my Palm PDA refuses to hot sync with my computer at the worst possible time... now, to top it off, a traveler's worst gadget nightmare has happened.

My digital camera has apparently kicked the bucket.

I got my Cybershot as a medical school graduation gift from my parents, and it's been a constant travel companion eversince. It's been with me through far and wide, high seas and mountains (not a lot of these, though), good and bad weather, drunk and sober times (yes, this is relevant). I've never had much trouble with it over the past three years and change I've had it - so its demise has come as a complete shocker.

Well, maybe not a complete shocker. It's been doing that flickering LCD thing ever since Aman - which I initially put down to overexposure from the blinding white sands of the beach. I thought it had had it when we were in Anawangin after it got caught in the rain - after my last sunset shot, it flickered and died. Thankfully, it came back to life after I charged it back home, so I thought it was probably just the battery.

I've been going around my adopted city these past two weeks with it in tow, but being a traveler alone makes it tricky to take too many pictures. It seemed alright the few times I brought it out - I was even able to get a picture of me and my landlady at the bed and breakfast I was staying at last week. So imagine my dismay when I tried it out right before I left for a day exploring King's Park the other day (more on that another time).

When I turned it on, I was treated to a laser light show complete with hissing sound effects instead of a functioning LCD and zoom lens. I took out the battery and put it back in, then turned it on - and the retractable lens just peeked at me, moved out halfway, then died. I plugged it into the wall, in an attempt to charge it, but when I turned it on, the anti-red eye orange light blinked several times, the flash went off once - then it died.

It has since then refused to switch on since. Not even for a flicker.

Given labor and repair costs here - which are atrocious - it may be cheaper to throw it out and get a new one. You can imagine just how distressing this is for me - I'm living in a foreign country and just itching to take photos as I explore it for posterity, I am trying to save up and my first paycheck is already accounted for by expenses even before I get it... and this happens! I wasn't planning on a new camera until after a year... only then, I was planning on getting an SLR. So much for that!

Besides that, it feels like I'm saying goodbye to a really good friend. *sigh* (Now you have an idea why I am such a pack rat.)

So long, my little Cybershot! :(

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Did You Say Walking Distance?

photo of Minnawara Park (in the summer) by Clarion

I've been in Armadale for almost a week. It's a very picturesque and quiet area, and being into the whole "beauty of nature" thing, I am drinking everything in. But one thing I'm learning very fast is that the phrase "walking distance" is relative to Western Australians - probably something they develop because the state they happen to occupy is so vast.

I'm currently staying at a bed and breakfast that is walking distance from my hospital - which actually means it is about 1 km far from it, and about a 10 minute walk. It's also walking distance from the shopping center and the lovely park shown above - about 1.5 km far, and a 20 minute walk.

Over here, because it's a quiet suburb, buses stop at stations on schedule and only come every half hour at their most frequent. If you're late one minute for the train, you'll have to wait 15 minutes for the next one. There are also no buses that pass along the highway where I live after 730 at night. This poses a bit of a problem because I have shifts that end at 9pm and shifts that start at 830pm.

Walking is lovely during the day and the sun is out, but quite a different matter when it's dark out, cold, and it's raining. Everyone out here has a car, it seems, as I've gone walking home at 6 pm (and it's already dark here because of winter) and I'm the only one on the road on foot. The locals say it's a relatively safe neighborhood. But when you're a woman walking alone in the street and there are dark vacant fields thick with trees in intervals beside you, it's a bit forgivable to be a bit antsy when you're doing it.

I am definitely going to have to save up and get a little car ASAP. In the meantime, there is always the expensive but safer option of calling for a cab.

We're pretty spoiled in Manila with our public transport that goes everywhere, you can hail from anywhere any time of day, and will drop you off wherever you want. The trade off is horrible traffic and unspeakable pollution. There is no such thing as the traffic jam we see back home over here - but then again, I don't live inside the city, so I could be wrong.

But this new way of getting around is just one of many new things that I am getting used to.

I have yet to get my own internet connection - so forgive me for being such an irregular chronicler these days. There's so much to write about, and I have quite a bit of time to write about them - only I don't really have a means to get on line at the moment. Just wanted to let you guys know I am still alive and I haven't forgotten my blog in all the fuss of moving.

More soon! In the meantime, keep those good vibes and wishes coming - I start work tomorrow and need all I can get!
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Here Goes Nothing

my cousin Jazz and I at St. Kilda Beach

This is the last few hours of my reprieve in Melbourne, and reality is finally sinking in. By this time tomorrow, I will be completely be on my own.

It's been a good visit to my family in Melbourne; and being around them has staved off the onset of homesickness. It's a nice reminder that I will have people to call on if I do get into trouble.While it's a 4 hour flight away, at least there are people can fly to my rescue who don't have to get a visa. It's just a bit frustrating that with all the relatives I have in here, I end up in a city where I won't even know anyone.

Anyway, I've pysched myself to tough it out - at least until I can pay off all my credit card debt! But I'm optimistic it will be a good year.

Time to repack my stuff and prepare for my "one brave thing!"
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Into Winter in a Day

photo of foggy Melbourne in winter by deezmon

I'm here!

After many obstacles overcome and a seven hour flight, I am finally in the southern hemisphere. From the muggy, humid tropical heat of the resurgent summer in Manila, I am now shivering in the foggy, grey winter of Melbourne, Australia for a four day pit stop before I start my on-my-own saga in far away Perth.

Although I've been here a few times, it was never in winter. And while winter here is not as hardcore as what they have in other temperate countries, for a girl weaned under perennially summer weather of the Pinas, this kind of cold is a bit of a culture shock. To wake up at eight only to find the sun barely up is disconcerting, to say the least.

Of course the weather is not the only change I have to deal with.

I've been here only a couple of days, and already I have swung into one "nosebleed" moment to the next. It's tough speaking in straight English! And don't let people who say Australia is an easy destination because everyone here speaks English. English, when spoken with the broad Oz strine, sounds quite foreign. I've also been steering away from shops - because aside from having very little to spend until I start work, the prices when converted from dollar to pesos is quite enough to keep me away from any form of retail.

This short visit in Melbourne is more of a vacation rather than a real part of my adventure. But I can already feel just how very different everything is going to be for me in the next few months. Yet there is comfort in this unfamiliar because over here I am still surrounded by extended family - and in easy touch with home through email, Skype voice calls, and telecommunications.

Thank goodness for amazing technology that has shrunk the world - that allows one to travel from summer to winter in a day and back home in the space of a few seconds with a few clicks of a mouse.

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Mission Impossible

This is not even half of it...

It was hard enough packing up three years of my life away in the callroom last December, when all I had to do was throw things in my car and drive them to storage at home.

So how does a sworn pack rat like me figure out what to bring abroad for a year and stay under 20 kilograms?

My friends have suggested not to buy too much and just buy in Aussie when I get there. Unfortunately, quality clothes and shoes are expensive over there; bargain clothes there are not as good as what I can get here for a lot less. So everything I'd saved up for the past few years not buying new apparel unless absolutely necessary, I've completely blown on the still-growing pile of shoes and clothes in my room that I am in total denial about.

Thankfully, I do get additional shipping freebies up to Melbourne of about 20 kgs, so I really have 40 kgs all in all. I will have to pay for the shipping from Melbourne to Perth, so that part must wait until I have cash to spare. Thus, smart packing is in order - and I have to be able to carry with me all my must-haves for at least two months in my suitcase.

Sounds easy? For normal people, maybe. For a perennially pack-heavy traveler pack rat? It's mission impossible.

As ever, procrastination and denial go hand in hand, and I have yet to sort everything out. Finally putting stuff in a suitcase and a box will finally make everything real - and I am really not ready for that yet. But with less than a week to go, I really should get started on this.

I have been living in a cloud of unreality these past three weeks, and the days have zoomed by without my looking. Don't get me wrong, I am going through with this. But to be honest, I still ask myself why I even want to sometimes.

Okay... time to make a checklist and get my ass in gear. It's packing time! To the seasoned and the experienced - tips will be greatly appreciated. I need all the help I can get!

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Disasters and Miracles

This past week has been a whirlwind of activity - what I get for being a pessimist and putting off everything that needed to be done until the very last minute. Exactly one week to my fly day, and there's still so much to be done. And that doesn't even include packing! Given this extreme spike in my stress level, my innate scatterbrain tendencies have been working overtime.

Because of this, last Friday, for about an hour, I thought that all of my plans had suddenly, irrevocably gone up in smoke.

Meet my purple expanding folder - which contains ALL my personal, ORIGINAL copies of my credentials and other documents essential to my pending trip.

Not being a complete dunce, I have already photocopied these same documents in a set to be left with my family in Manila, but since I am still in the process of compiling it, my photocopies are in this same envelope, too.

So in short, my whole life is in that envelope.

My disastrous story begins on Friday morning, when I left the house without bringing my cellular phone with me. Leaving my phone is usually not that a big deal for me, but since I had a lot of errands to run and needed a phone to coordinate with people I would be meeting, I asked my brother to meet me at the mall with it.

I had just come from the POEA, where I had spent the past few days fixing my exit clearance and registering as a bona fide OFW, so I had my precious envelope in tow. As I waited for my brother, I lugged it from one shop to the next as I tried on clothes and did some last minute shopping.

I hadn't been to this particular mall for years. Around a few minutes before I was to meet my brother, I saw that the store I set as a venue for us was no longer where it used to be. Worried we wouldn't find each other because of this, I went to the nearest pay phone and tried calling him - repeatedly because he wouldn't answer - and getting in touch with the house. Since it was difficult to hunt for coins in my black hole of a bag with my arms full of purchases and my bulky purple envelope, I put the envelope on top of the phone... and forgot about it.

Yes, I completely, utterly, stupidly forgot the envelope on top of a public phone in a mall. Someone give the idiot a prize!

After I met up with and got my cellphone from my brother, I promptly left the mall to run my other errands all over the metro, blissfully unaware that the key to my entire life was gone. Hours and kilometers passed. I guess I was so used to lugging it around with me that I assumed it was still with me all that time.

It was only at my last stop - the photocopying shop in UP Diliman - that I realized that things had gone horribly wrong. I felt like my entire world had completely disintegrated. It took all my willpower to hold on to sanity to drive through the rush hour traffic to get back to the mall. I was trying not to think about the fact that I would have to reconstruct a file of documents put together only after months of tedious legwork in TWO WEEKS. I was looking for an escape hatch from taking the trip, but this wasn't the way I wanted to bail out! At every stoplight, I was furiously texting all the praying people I knew in my phonebook, begging them to pray for a miracle.

My brother had gotten to the mall ahead of me, so I asked him to check the phone I used in the slim hope that it was still there. It wasn't. I told him to try the security office to see if anyone had turned it over. No one had. I told him to check the last places I recalled going to. No one remembered seeing anything.

It was around the time my brother told me there was nothing in the security office that my control started to slip. I was hysterically bawling as I was driving and praying incoherently - I was just saying please over and over again. When I finally got to the mall, I parked in the first slot I found and shot into the mall to retrace my steps one last time, but not with much hope.

As I was walking around the Food Court, on my way to the other set of public telephones I used, someone called me on my cellular phone. Apparently, she saw my home number on one of my documents and wanted to inform me that my envelope with the mall security in the area where I was, and the person who answered at home had given her my cellular number. She figured I would want to know ASAP that it had been found, even if I wouldn't be able to pick it up at once.

It turns out that a costumer had found the envelope earlier that afternoon and had turned it over to the food court security. They had waited for someone all afternoon to claim it, and, just around the time I was having my fit of hysterics, the manager finally decided to go through the papers inside it to see if there was any contact information they could use to get in touch with me.

Coincidence? Maybe. Me, I firmly believe it was the power of praying friends and God taking pity on His stupid, scatterbrained daughter.

In this time of great uncertainty and major life changes, God continues to remind me that He's on top of everything. And despite my frequent flirtation with the edge of disaster, He brings forth miracle after miracle - and I cannot thank Him enough.

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Hitting Panic

photo by Krysten

I already have a flight date, almost all of my papers are in, and it seems as if all systems are really go. I've completed most of my shopping, and I have enough time to finish sorting out my stuff before I leave if I start doing it now.

Everything seems to be almost ready but me.

Can someone tell me where the brakes are?

I thought I'd had ample time to get my head around the fact that I am going to be leaving my entire life behind to start anew in a city I have never been to, where I do not know a single soul, away from everything I know and everyone I love. But D-day is approaching so much faster than I thought it would.

The urge to cling to the familiar is overpoweringly strong. The excitement of a new adventure is tempered by a good dose of fear, guilt, and sadness at the thought of leaving my support system behind. As the days to my departure wind down from one to the next, I have to stop myself from frantically looking for an escape hatch.

Talk about being careful what you wish for!

My friends are more excited for me than I am at this point. I guess it's easier for them to keep my life in perspective - that this is only going to be for a year (at least for now), that I need this change and the experience will be good for me, and, if the worst happens, I can always come home. Their encouragement is my lifeline and one of the biggest reasons I haven't exercised my right to change my mind.

Frankly, I still have no idea what I am doing - and I think that's a pretty good excuse to give in to panic every now and then, don't you? But despite my panic, I'm seeing this through with faith that the courage to jump is a real prelude to learning how to fly.

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Where to Next?

Me and Ate Fe at Davao International Airport, August '07

I've always had the heart of a kaladkarin (from the same Tagalog verb which means "to drag; to haul along"). I've never made a secret of the joy I get from going to new places and just drinking everything in, no matter the destination. Whether it's a trip to the glitzy and cosmopolitan or the rustic and back-to-basics, if I'm free, I'm in.

Summers have always triggered a serious attack of itchy feet; this, the longest summer I've ever had since I started kindergarten, is no exception. But now that I've indulged my inner lakwatsera (n. "wanderer"), she simply doesn't want to stop.

So does anyone know where I can take my itchy feet next?

Obviously, I'm trying to make up for lost time and throw myself into exploring the Philippines - a beach lover and traveler's paradise if there ever was one. I'm just beginning to discover just how much there is to see here and to appreciate just how beautiful this land of mine really is.

My friends marvel at how eager I am to plan the next trip... let's face it, even domestic travel costs quite a bit, and I'm not exactly earning anything right now. Neither do I have a good amount saved in the bank - and it's shrinking by the day.

But I've come to realize that there's a good chance that having this much time and freedom to wander and having money to spare to do it might never quite coincide. Once I start working and training again - which is really my long-term plan - I won't be able to indulge my wanderlust this way again for years. Maybe it's a crazy philosophy to live by, but it works for me right now. At this point in my life, when I'm in flux and trying to catch up on everything I missed, it makes perfect sense.

Now I'm scouting for a place to hold our next adventure - and I was hoping one of you could help me. We're targeting just a weekend get-away in May, so it can't be too far or too activity intensive. And of course it can't be too expensive - so travel by plane is out. Personally, I would prefer another quiet beach where I can lie around and just watch the world go by... hey, don't be judgy, it's summer after all!

So, if any of you know of a beautiful, as yet undiscovered destination not too far from Manila, easily accessible by public transport, and won't cost an arm and a leg to get there - please give me a heads up. You can leave me a comment or use my contact form to reach me by email. I've been looking at potential places in Bataan and Quezon, but I'd love to get more input from people who have been there or any other place worth visiting.

I can't wait for our next trip. So, does anybody else want to come along? :)

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Anawangin - Paradise Close to Home

the almost white sand of anawangin cove

It's hard to imagine a place so idyllic and untouched so close to the city, but Anawangin Cove is all that and more.

Once a well-kept secret by the hardcore outdoor enthusiasts and dedicated shutterbugs, it seems to have exploded into the Manila crowd's consciousness, all through word-of-mouth advertising and blog buzz. All of a sudden, this little patch of paradise just 3 hours outside Manila - most of it great driving or an easy commute on very good roads plus a 30 minute boat trip - has become one of this summer's must-see destinations.

Jean and I weren't immune to the lure of the gorgeous photographs and the enthusiastic narratives published on-line by previous visitors. So despite having nil camping experience and unfazed by the prospect of being just two women traveling alone, we set off last weekend to see what the fuss was all about.

Fortunately, my sister and her boyfriend were gracious enough to let themselves be dragged in the wake of our enthusiasm. Being an outdoor savvy couple with several visits to Anawangin under their belt, their presence definitely made the trip much smoother than it might have been.

While Pundaquit, in San Antonio, Zambales is just one bus ride away, my sister decided to bring a car instead. The commute coming from Manila would be easy enough by bus, but getting a ride back home the next day would be a different story. My younger brother and his friends, who had been to Anawangin just the week before, ended up on their feet for the entire bus ride on the way home.

We left Manila at around 430 am and were soon flying down the North Luzon Expressway. After stopping for breakfast at one of the gas stations on the freeway, it was smooth driving all the way to San Antonio, where we made another pit-stop to buy drinking water and provisions at the public market. And let's not forget the other beach essential beer - and an ice chest full of ice.

a view of pundaquit beach and the mountains as we pull out

We parked the car at one of the pay parking lots near Pundaquit Beach (overnight charge PHP 100), and found a boat to take us to our destination. My sister, being a frequent visitor, was able to make arrangements with a boatman she knew ahead of time, and we had a boat waiting for us on the beach. Without much ado, we were off.

The boat was smaller than the one we used for our island-hopping in Caramoan, and the seas were more choppy as well, even if this is the height of summer. It made for a very wet ride, but exhilarating nonetheless. However, the waters going to Pundaquit can become quite rough during storm seasons, so plan your trips during those months with caution.

sheer rockface makes up the coastline to anawangin cove

As we approached the cove, we were greeted by the sight of white sand under the mid-morning sun and the unusual sight of pine trees instead of the palms we are used to seeing on a beach. At first sight, it was obvious what the buzz was all about. After unloading the boat and making arrangements for the boatman to pick us up the next day, we went into the campgrounds to set up camp.

It was a bit of a disappointment to see the campground dotted with tents already, but we were expecting the crowd. Even while we were still in San Antonio, we had already seen several groups of backpackers waiting for tricycles to Pundaquit. Besides that, it seemed as if many friends of friends were descending on the beach this weekend. Jean calls it "The Six Degrees of Anawangin." Inevitably, we would all end up running into someone we knew, someone who we didn't know was coming that weekend. Anawangin is becoming that popular.

All this despite the fact that there are but two makeshift toilets on the campgrounds and two deep well pumps to service a campground teeming with weekend tourists and mountaineers.

Luckily we were still able to find a good spot among the trees, shaded from the noontime sun. After setting up camp and cooking and eating lunch (I will never laugh at Survivor contestants making botched sinaing [steamed rice] ever again), we settled in to take advantage of what any beach had to offer - an afternoon of utter indolence. A bit of exploring and picture taking here and there, then it was time for a long afternoon map in a hammock under the shade of the beautiful pine trees that are part of this cove's mystique.

the stream behind our campsite

There isn't a lot to do in Anawangin in terms of sports activity. There is some snorkeling that can be done by the rocks, but the rips on the sides of the cove can make this dangerous. Swimmers should also approach the beach with respect and caution. While the bottom is sandy and the water amazingly clean, sudden drop offs and undertows influenced by the tide have taken the lives of even strong swimmers caught unawares. With no life guards and minimal warning signs, you must be responsible for your own safety.

What Anawangin is perfect for, aside from watching the world go by, is drinking in the beauty of Nature at its finest. Aside from the beautiful beach, the woods just behind the camping grounds are such a novel sight. Framed by mountains in the background, it looks like a something from on European postcard. Hard to imagine that the sun-kissed tropical beach is just a heartbeat away.

A European postcard shot taken in Zambales

Photographers abound here, toting their SLRs and tripods, running to and fro along the beach to find the perfect shot. Who could blame them? My heart bled for my own SLR camera to capture the utter gorgeousness of this place. I've been to a number of beaches in my career as a wanna-be beach bum, and I must say my vote for prettiest dusk (even if the sun sets behind the mountain) definitely goes to Anawangin.

It was too warm for a bonfire, and the stars were blotted out by the clouds from the summer rain shower, but we still had a nice, quiet evening under the stars, still-cold beer in hand. One of our former interns and his friends joined us with a half-finished bottle of tequila, but since they were already way more wasted than we were, we didn't have the heart to challenge them to finish the rest.

a beach bathed in fire

We woke up early the next morning and took a morning walk along the beach. While the serenity of the beach and the water was calming, our walk was marred by the sight of waste from the previous night's revelry scattered on the beach - an empty bag of chips here, plastic cups here and there. It was so sad to see how irresponsible visitors to this idyllic wonderland were being, instead of making an effort to preserve its beauty and cleanliness.

After a quick post-breakfast morning swim and a makeshift shower at the campsite using a five liter mineral water container filled with deep well water, it was time to pack up and wait for our boatman. We were supposed to stop by Capones Island on the way back, but due to the bulk of people also going home that day, our ride was late, and we left Anawangin past 1:30 in the afternoon still teeming with people enjoying the sun.

Based on the number of people going there this summer, Anawangin is obviously no longer a secret. I just hope that the influx of people will not turn the pristine, untouched state of this cove into a lost memory because of carelessness.

If you want to go there to get away from the maddening crowd, it's best to come on a weekday when you'll have this wonderful place all to yourselves - or off-season, if you're brave enough to face the rough waters. Still, it's definitely worth at least one visit to see this paradise so close to home, regardless of when you'll make the trip.

I hope to be back, too, someday... maybe with an SLR camera at last.

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Finding Caramoan, Part 2

We spent a couple of hours in Sabitang Laya swimming and getting sunburned in the noontime sun. After eating another packed lunch bought from Bigg's at the mainland (that food came a long way!), we packed up our makeshift picnic and prepared to move to the next destination.

Our late night finally caught up with us during the boat ride to our next stop - the island of Basud. Despite the narrow confines of the boat, we were all nodding off, lulled to sleep by the wind in our faces and the boat's gentle bobbing. It was low tide as we pulled up on one of Basud's beaches. It was not as beautiful or as inviting as Sabitang Laya, but our guide, Nene, told us snorkeling was good here just a few feet from the shore.

However, we unanimously vetoed the idea. Instead, we picked a spot under the trees and proceeded to have an afternoon beach bum siesta, as we lay cooled by the brisk breeze off the water. And we were all treated to fresh buko on the island before we set off for our last stop.

afternoon siesta at Basud Island

We only had enough time for another island because we had to head back to Caramoan before dark, and Nene decided to take us to the shrine of Our Lady of Peace. The shrine is located on top of a high hill - 526 steps high, to be exact - on the island of Tabgon. Even from afar, the alabaster white figure of the Virgin Mary beckoned to travelers - and promised of a full view of the entire peninsula from that vantage point.

As we approached the island of Tabgon, it was apparent that this was not going to be one of Caramoan's white sand paradise islands. Tabgon is more an agricultural center, with its crab farms, fish pens, and rice fields. Our boat was soon surrounded by murky brown waters as we approached the island pier, its concrete steps leading straight into the water. We all thought we were going to dock there, but the low tide forced our boat to stop several meters away from the shore. We would have to walk the rest of the way - in mud.

walking from Tabgon to our boat

Comforted by the presence of my slippers, I plodded uncertainly through the knee-deep water, the mud sucking at my flip-flops. Unfortunately my flip-flops had other ideas, and one gave way halfway through. I spent the rest of the walk barefoot and trying to ignore the image of all sorts of unthinkables I could be stepping into.

The 526 steps leading to the shrine are carved on the steep hillside and was an impossibly long way up. Last Holy Week, the island had been overrun by pilgrims who had come to pay homage to Our Lady by making the climb. When we got to the foot of the steps, we were stunned to see the people of Tabgon of all ages making the climb with sacks of earth on their backs to help with the completion of the shrine at the top.

locals bringing up bags of soil

I am ashamed to say that no amount of persuasion could get me past step 260-something, roughly halfway though. The view at halfway up was already quite impressive, but even the enticing call of the panorama at the top wasn't enough for me to overcome my fear of heights. Even from below, I could see there were some flights with no banisters. Given how steep the steps were, how could I not look down and be terrified - with nothing to hold on to? Out of the question.

the view from halfway mark

My other travel buddies had no such qualms and plodded on. With frequent rests in between flights, they managed to make it to the top and were rewarded by an amazing view of the islands spread before them in a breathtaking vista. They stayed to watch the sunset over the bay before painfully making their way back down - which was pretty hard on the knees.

pushing for the top

We headed back to Caramoan town in the dusk. Dark was falling inexorably over the islands, with no electric lights to counter it anywhere along the shore. We were as far removed from the city as we could ever be, and I marveled at the simplicity of a life so one with nature. As we pulled into Bikal Port just as the last light of the sun was fading, I was stunned at the magnitude of the silence that fell once the boat's motor was shut down. It was a quiet that begged for whispers, the faint sounds of a videoke machine playing in the distance notwithstanding.

Bikal at dusk

Starving from the day's activities, we went straight to dinner at nearby Camalig Grill, just a few steps away from our motel. We wanted to end the evening with a hearty drinking session, but our tired bodies were not up to it. After a single beer each outside our rooms, we all gave in to exhaustion and went straight to bed.

Caramoan Church

The next morning, the early risers heard Sunday mass at 6AM in the beautiful red brick church of Caramoan. After a heavy breakfast, we were on the road again - back to Guijalo port where we would were to catch the 9AM boat going back to Sabang. The weather, which had been nothing but sun the previous day, took a turn for the worse and we were once more greeted by rain.

We missed the 9AM boat by five minutes - and had to wait for two hours before a passenger boat would arrive from Sabang and make a return trip. Local authorities discouraged us from chartering a small boat to travel such a long distance given the weather. In one of those funny coincidences, after our boat finally arrived, it was carrying a group of our former interns, who were also exploring Caramoan for the first time.

Guijalo port in the rain

Thankfully, the rain stopped on our way back, and the ride was surprisingly quite smooth. We decided to do as the natives did and rode outside the boat, all the more easy to watch the beautiful scenery. The green was cooler to the eyes this time, the sea was a cobalt blue, and the forest was shrouded by mist. But our luck didn't hold for very long, and the rain came pouring down again right before we docked at Sabang.




After a short stop at Camsur Watersports Complex so that Queenie could try the kneeboard and the rest of us could try the incredible laing pizza, we were finally on our way back to cosmopolitan Manila - and arrived in the wee hours of Monday morning. How's that for cutting it close?

Was it worth the trip? Most definitely! Living up to its hype, Caramoan is truly an untouched, barely discovered paradise that is worth visiting again and again and again. What can I say? I am completely in love - twelve hour trip be damned.

Note to self, though (and to anyone else who is interested in going) - next time we plan a trip to this incredible place, we should make block off at least three days to really make the most of our stay. But, yes, there is definitely going to be a next time!

So, are any of you free this coming May? Let me know if you have plans - I would love to tag along.
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Finding Caramoan, Part 1

definitely worth the trip

Jean, my fellow wanderlust-wanna-be, and I first heard about Caramoan last August. Described in glowing terms as an "untouched paradise" by someone who had never seen it himself, the hype whetted our curiosity - and we've been planning to take a trip there ever since. After discovering beauty of Bicolandia during our weather-cursed trip last February, we've been even more eager to realize its promise.

With a resident's schedule, easier said than done. (This is no longer really my problem, but with my travel buddies all tied to the hospital, I don't have much of a choice.) But sure enough when there's a will there's a way, and last weekend we finally managed to get away.

travel buddies wide awake at 630AM

The Caramoan Peninsula is found in the Bicol province of Camarines Sur. It is three and a half hours away from Naga City - itself already an eight to ten hour drive from Manila. Caramoan town proper is an hour and a half by land to Sabang Port then two hours by boat to Guijalo Port. That's a total of twelve hours travel for people who can barely get a weekend away.

We got started on our journey to Caramoan on Friday night, leaving Manila at around 8pm. We drove to Naga City straight through the night, sleeping fitfully in turns to make sure someone was awake to keep the driver up. We had contracted the services of a guide to coordinate our trip so that we could make the most of the day we were spending at there, and we were set to meet her with the transport our group would take to Sabang.

We arrived at Naga City at 4:30 AM of Saturday morning, about half an hour earlier than scheduled. Our FX to Sabang picked us at our meeting point up along the highway. It was long drive and a tight fit, so it was too difficult to fall asleep on the way... but it was worth it because I got to see dawn break over majestic Mount Isarog and the bucolic agricultural landscape en route to Sabang Port.

a view from Sabang Port

Boats leave from Sabang Port to Caramoan town at 7AM, 9AM, and 11AM. We were early for the first trip out and were first to board the boat, which can carry around 30 people plus baggage. While we waited for the boat to fill, I had my first glimpse of how far removed Caramoan is from the bustle and noise of the city. From across the port, we were treated to other side of Mount Isarog, dressed in lush green forest garb.

After a half hour wait, we were finally off on the two hour boat ride. The sea was moderately choppy but the sun was out, and the stunning beauty of the Caramoan Peninsula and the vivid colors of sea and sky more than made up for the butt-numbing trip. We docked at Guijalo Port after a two-hour boat ride. From there, our guide arranged for a jeepney to take us to the town center - another 15 minute rough road ride.

more amazing rock formations in turquoise waters

More than twelve hours from the time we left Manila, we checked into our accommodation, the Rex Inn, one of two motels in a town center so small that most of the business establishments can be found along one main street. The rooms were clean and air conditioned, and it felt great to fresh up after the long trip. And finally eat our packed breakfast.

Unfortunately, there was no rest for the wicked! Because of our tight schedule, our guide was knocking on our doors after only thirty minutes - just enough time for us to change into our swim wear and slop on lots of sunblock. Then we were piled back into our jeepney for another bumpy ride to Bikal port from where our island hopping adventure would commence.

boarding the boat at Bikal

The islands are roughly 30 to 45 minutes away from each other by boat, scattered off the coast. Given the short time we had, we would only have time to visit three at best. As usual, foreigners had discovered this untouched paradise before we did, and three of the most famous islands were closed to the public because of the filming of the European version of the TV series Survivor. But our guide assured us that the less known islands were just as lovely as the famous ones... a fact that we whole-heartedly agreed with as we approached the turquoise waters and cream-colored sand of Sabitang Laya island.

creamy sand on deserted beaches - what more to ask for?

Oblivious to the fact that it was near high noon, we hurriedly jumped off the boat to soak in the sight and enjoy the near-deserted beach. Not to mention all the photo ops! People who are interested in camping on the beach are usually advised to camp here because of its more secure loaction and its proximity to the town proper. There are some really nice places to camp, and anywhere you pitch your tent is just a few steps from the beautiful beach.

Word of warning: the experience is as back to nature as it can get because there is no toilet or running water here - and no other inhabitants. But the unspoiled beauty of the beach makes it worth the trip. Frankly, I could have spent the whole day - and night - here, being a bonafide beach bum, but I was outvoted by my more adventurous travel buddies. Such a shame - the stargazing would have been wonderful here.

a place to sit and dream

I'll have the rest of this post up tomorrow, so watch out for it. In the meantime, I'll leave you with one more Caramoan eye candy to tempt you into planning your trip before the summer's end!

pristine and untouched

(Note: All pictures were taken by Sony Cybershot point-and-shoot cameras. No special effects! Amazing, huh? :))

This post is continued in Finding Caramoan, Part 2.

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