Dreams in the Dusk

Dreams in the dusk,
Only dreams closing the day
And with the day’s close going back
To the gray things, the dark things,
The far, deep things of dreamland

Dreams, only dreams in the dusk,
Only the old remembered pictures
Of lost days when the day’s loss
Wrote in tears the heart’s loss.

Tears and loss and broken dreams
May find your heart at dusk.

Carl Sandburg

* * * *

Sometimes a sunset is a beautiful counterpoint to true solitude. Sometimes, it is somewhere where one's heart can feel loneliest.

To me, it's often a little of both.

(Woman on Sorrento Beach at dusk, taken using my Nikon D40.)

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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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If Heaven Were a Beach

I've never made any quibbles about my love for the sea. I have a passion for discovering beautiful beaches, and I've been quite lucky to have been to quite a few. But I must say that if heaven were a beach (and to me, it most probably will be), it would definitely look like this.



This is Bunker Bay, just a few kilometers off Dunsborough, on the amazing Southwest region of Western Australia. It's white sand, turquoise waters, and calm, sloping shoreline make it as close to paradise a beach can get. Near enough to be worth the drive but far enough to remain undiscovered. I will most definitely back here someday. If I had a choice to stay here, you would have had to drag me away kicking and screaming.

I will, most definitely, be back.

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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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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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Taking It Outside

Clear blue skies. A cool spring breeze off the ocean. Pristine white sands. Turquoise water as far as the eye can see. A dedicated bike/pedestrian path along a low cliff overlooking it all.

For a dedicated beach lover and wanna-be-runner, there was probably no better setting for my very first outdoor run. At last.

Let me digress a bit just to give you a background about how I've finally gotten to this point - particularly because I almost didn't even allow myself to get this far.

If you guys remember, it was just a couple of weeks ago that I literally ran myself full tilt into knee trouble. Thankfully, one of the perks of working in a hospital is having physios on hand to evaluate me gratis, and after an impromptu consult, I was told what the problem was - I had almost-flat feet, with my left worse than my right. My nifty new shoes were probably not providing enough arch support for me, specially on the left. The fact that I was being TOO enthusiastic about things and escalating what I was doing almost every day without rest periods in between compounded the issue.

As a result, just a couple of weeks into my attempt at making my walking legs into running legs, I was getting symptoms of beginning runner's knee.

I was told in no uncertain terms to back off, at least until I was pain-free. I would have to go back to a lower degree of intensity in the program I was following and to take recovery days. I also had to get better arch support - or else.

Apparently, my spirit was willing, my heart and lungs were capable, but my ligaments and my feet were weak.

After being told off by the physios at work (you'd think I'd know these things being a doctor!), I had a good think about the whole running business. It was so frustrating to find out that I didn't seem to be biomechanically suited to the sport I'd chosen - after I'd already set goals for myself in it and convincing myself I could do it. Also there were, after all, a myriad other sports out there that were less impact on the knees and didn't require a person not to have flat feet - like biking and swimming - and I only had one pair of knees. I was seriously considering junking the idea altogether.

But after a few days of sulking and literally sleeping with an ice pack on my left knee, I figured I wouldn't be giving myself a fair chance if I gave up on it so quickly. So I went out and got a pair of off-the-shelf orthotics for my running shoes, (which initially felt like having golf balls under my arches but now feel great) and backed off on my treadmill work (which meant endless workouts on the mind-blowingly boring elliptical machine for several days in lieu) until I could squat without having my left knee scream at me.

In a week, I was doing the prescribed runs on my C25K program to the letter on the days I could run - and taking full recovery days in between. I worked my way up to a full 30 minute run on the treadmill a few days ago - a little more that what I should be doing in Week 6 - but pain-free during and after. So I am being cautiously optimistic that my shoe inserts and my easing up on myself are doing the trick - and that I just may be able to continue my pursuit of this running thing after all.

To celebrate my first ever 30 minute run, I felt ready to take things outside. Hence my impulse trip to Cottesloe Beach armed with only my jogging shoes, dorky belt-bag, and one application of sunblock. (And, while off-topic, can I say again how awesome it is that I can actually commute to a beautiful beach any time I feel the urge to?)

Okay, maybe all I could work up to today was about 30 minutes of run - and a whole lot of walk (at least 5K total, I promise). Give me some time, I'm going to work my way to a solid 5K run soon and take things from there.

Nothing can take away from the reality that I actually ran along the Sunset Coast jogging path, wind cool against my face, water on one side, and open road as far as the eye can see. And I really can't imagine a better setting to discover that I can actually do something that I'd never imagined I'd ever do than this.





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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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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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Lessons in Aloneness

As I reach the end of my island interlude, I have mixed feelings about going home.

I suppose it's only natural to feel a certain resistance to leaving behind the languid tranquility of this pristine seaside paradise for the noise and bustle of the smog-shrouded city. While I welcome the thought of being back to my real life, I will miss this amazingly beautiful place. I will miss the idyllic simplicity of my days. And I will miss my solitude.

This is the first trip I have ever taken completely on my own. It's hard to believe that I've reached thirty without ever having traveled alone, but it's true. Most of my trips away from the familiar were, if not with friends or family, to places where I have friends or family. These two weeks I've spent so far away from home, where everyone I have met is a stranger, has been an experiment in being alone.

This aloneness has been a mixed blessing. I admit I have been lonely here at times. I have encountered many new faces, but, friendly as people here may be, there hasn't been much time or opportunity to make any real friends. Nonetheless, being here alone has not taken away from the experience. It has even added to it.

While I do miss the company and conversation of the people I love, I have come to learn that I can be comfortable with only myself for company. And I am slowly coming to appreciate the freedom that comes from being on my own.

Some people might think it's easy for me to say this because I'm here only for a short time and I know I will be going home soon. But despite my streak of wanderlust, embracing the unknown has never been my strong suit. For me, taking this job has been a huge step out of my safety zone. And I am very glad I did it. It has made me a little bit braver, a little bit bolder - and just a little bit more ready for the other journeys that lie ahead, alone or otherwise.

I am already looking forward to the next.
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Island Postcards

I just wanted to share a few of the pictures I've taken on the island. These were just taken by an ordinary Sony Cybershot 5 megapixel digital camera - I have yet to dabble in the world of SLR. Still, despite my lack of special photography equipment, the natural beauty of this place shines through.




I took this shot at the Beach Club on the west side of the island. A friend of mine has commented about how it's a bit on the over-exposed side because you can't see the details on the sand, but I think that has a lot to do with the time of day I took it - high noon. The intense light of the noonday sun shining on the blinding white sand just makes the blues and greens of the sea and sky even more vivid.

Amanpulo's reputation as a romantic get-away is well-deserved. Aside from being extremely exclusive and being designed to maximize the privacy of its guests, the island is scattered with secluded spots ideal for private picnics and lovers' trysts. A couple of these spots can be found on the highest point north of the island, easily accessible by Club Car. Guests can make arrangements for a sunset dinner to be brought up here, and in the dark, the way is lit with torches. During the day, the way up looks like this.



There are only 40 casitas on the whole island, though the resort is in the process of building more on the southeast. 30 casitas are located along the west side of the island, each one with its own private beach. The casitas are built a good distance from the road and from each other, and because of this the beaches are never crowded. Most of the beach shots here are from the west side of the island, at different times of the day - but the beach is almost always deserted.



This is the picture of a casita from the side of the road. You have to walk a few meters to get to the doorway of each casita, and most are actually not visible from the road.



The casitas are also not visible from the beach since they have been built within the foliage. The beachfront of each casita has two very comfortable lounges from which guests can laze the day away.

Since the island is completely surrounded by a gently sloping white sand beach, it doesn't seem too hard to find your own secret, undiscovered patch of beach. But you would be surprised to find that the resort staff has already been there ahead of you, and prepared an extra something for you to enjoy your afternoon in.



Sunsets are best watched at the Beach Club on the west side of the island, lying back on one of the numerous lounges lying on the shore. Guests can also make arrangements for a sunset cruise. Regardless of where you view it from, though, dusk on the island is always breathtaking.



It's not hard to imagine why this beautiful island has been included in the list of 1,000 Places to See Before You Die. Addicts of champagne sugar sand and jewel-blue waters won't get enough of this little piece of paradise.


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A Soundtrack for a Walk on the Beach

My vision of an ideal afternoon is being able to indulge in two of my absolute favorite things - music and the beach. Any music junkie worth her salt has a playlist for every occasion, and an afternoon stroll on the beach is no exception.

Of course the music anyone wants to walk to on the beach is always a matter of taste. But I've always found that the lazy rhythms of reggae and ska and the soothing vocals of bossa nova are the perfect complement to the whisper of an afternoon sea breeze, the gentle lap of waves on the shore, and the stunning beauty of a summer sunset. I also include songs that are not bossa or reggae that are happy and carefree and give voice to my exhilaration at being somewhere I've always loved. It's great accompaniment to the watching the world go by.

What follows is the sample track list from my happy, hodge-podge seaside mix-tape.

Every Breath You Take - UB40
Baby I Love Your Way - Big Mountain
Summer Samba - Bebel Gilberto
Glorious - Natalie Imbruglia
Waters of March - Sergio Mendes
Wouldn't It Be Nice - Beach Boys
Everyday is a Holiday - Esthero
I Can See Clearly Now - Jimmy Cliff
It's Not Easy - Marcos Valle
Hey Look at the Sun - Sitti Navarro
Do I Need a Reason - D' Sound
Any Lucky Penny - Nikki Hassman
Copernicus - Basia
Ooh Child - Marvin Gaye
More Today than Yesterday - Spiral Staircase
Can't Take my Eyes Off You - Fugees
Say a Little Prayer - Diana King
Here Comes the Sun - The Beatles
Bliss - Alice Peacock
No Woman, No Cry - Bob Marley
Underneath It All - No Doubt
Getting Better - Smashmouth
Carribean Blue - Big Mountain
Violet Sky - Keri Noble
Angel - Shaggy
Breathe - Michelle Branch
Don't Worry, Be Happy - Bobby McFerrin
Like a Lover - Sergio Mendes
Before the Summer is Gone - The Company
Do You Believe in Magic - The Turtles
Just No Ordinary Day - Sofia
Beach Samba - Astrud Gilberto
Lemonade Afternoon - The Company
How Sweet It Is - Marvin Gaye
Waiting in Vain - Bob Marley

Yesterday afternoon, I finally got to walk around the island as planned - though I had to do it in two parts. I took the east side of the island early in the morning, then the west side of the island in the afternoon after work with a long, leisurely pause to watch the sun set on another day. To someone who grew up on the fever pitch and the unsettling stress of the rush hour commute, this is a form of heaven.

In my perfect world, I would live a stone's-throw away from a beautiful beach, be able to quit work in time for sunset, and be able to trade my white coat for the hat of a beach bum every single day.

Beach junkies will all agree.
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Journeys from A to B

For the past few days, I've been promising to wake up really early so I could watch the sunrise and walk along the white sand beach encircling the island before I going to work. But, despite being generally an early riser, I've been finding it so difficult to drag myself out of bed.

This lazy morning start is such a stark contrast to the frenetic pace at which I used to prepare for another day at the hospital. It was always a race against time to get into the train before 7AM and start traveling before the rush hour crowd hit. In the hospital, so much has already happened by 9AM - over here, at 9AM, my day is just beginning.

I love it.

I've always suspected that I am really a Type B person hiding behind a Type A facade. This easy slide into indolence might be proof that this is true. Maybe it's just my way of recovering from almost seven straight years of Type A living. Then again, it could just be the influence of living on an island.

I find myself spending time in between consults planning where I am going to catch the sunset this afternoon. I spend my lunch break walking barefoot on the deserted beach under the noonday sun, fed by the sight of the cool turquoise-blue ocean and blindingly white sand as far as the eye can see. And I love ending my day by choosing a spot on the beach where I sit and watch the shifting colors of the sky at dusk. Nights are particularly beautiful out here, where the only "bright lights" are the moon and the light of thousands of stars you can only imagine seeing in Manila.

It's so refreshing to go through a day without any definite plan. To watch the world and the day go by, just waiting for something to happen. To be at ease in a state of "maybe I will... maybe I won't... maybe tomorrow."

I know part of the reason why I manage to stay reasonably sane in such a remote place is having a ready connection to the outside world and the comforts of city-living. I would probably be singing a different tune if I didn't have the internet or electricity for an extended period of time. I have no illusions about being cut out for a rural existence in the Filipino context. No amount of natural beauty would entice me to settle permanently somewhere with no modern plumbing. But I can imagine being happy living somewhere that is not quite as urban as Manila, but not quite as untouched and remote as this place before it was developed. And I am definitely developing a taste for this kind of back-to-nature get-away as a place to kick back and relax and find my center again.

I will come back to Real Life soon enough. But for now, I'm closing shop and am going to look for a place where I can collect another sunset. Maybe it will be a good night for stars. And maybe I will finally get to walk around the island tomorrow morning. If not... well. There's always the next day.

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