Sunday, April 18, 2004
If somebody would give a death sentence to an overfed, spoiled, city girl like me, it would be me in this scenario:
Stuck in an island where there is no signal for your cell phone; cable television is a luxury that most of the locals can’t afford; karaoke as a source of entertainment is unheard of; and a bottle of sunscreen is a necessity for survival.
But then, an island as beautiful as Camiguin can make anyone, even the ones who have a death wish, pray to live just another day longer.
The Villarico Company
Because Lui was the one who organized the whole trip, she had the unfortunate honor of representing all four of us. From the airport to all the ports that we’ve been to, they collectively call us “Villarico” (Lui’s surname).
During meal time, our host would say, “asan na ang pagkain nina Villarico? (Where is the food for the Villarico?)”
Weird but kinda lifts the responsibility off your shoulders. I could misbehave and be a total mess and it won’t reflect on me. But poor Lui.
White lump of sand
I could describe the one-hour trip from our resort to the Mantigue Island atop an outrigger canoe with no roof as “a scenic island hopping experience that would give tourists a chance to see beautiful trees, the volcanoes and yeah, more lush trees. The houses built along the shores could impress even Howard Roark the way they were architecturally designed to complement, and not upstage, nature.”
The ride was all that, really. But I didn’t appreciate the fact that my Hawaiian Tropic SPF 30 was powerless against the searing heat of the sun.
When we finally hit the island, the summer spirit finally settled in me. The sand was beautiful. Not as pulvoron-powdery as the sands of Boracay, but they were whiter. The water’s clearer too.
Lui and Jaycee immediately snorkeled around, pointing and discussing things they saw underwater, while, Mich and I were contented to just float around.
Lui wanted to show me the sea fossils. Maybe she didn’t want me to miss out, or maybe it was just her enthusiasm overriding her. Nevertheless, she lent me her snorkels and taught me how to use it.
I’d be forever grateful to her for that, because it was an experience definitely worth repeating. I never knew how being underwater could be so relaxing.
I immediately placed “buy myself a good pair of snorkels” and “enroll myself at a professional diving school as soon as time and resources allow me to” at the top of my to-do list.
After Mantigue, we traveled proceeded to the White Island. It was a pain in the butt, literally. The novelty of seeing Camiguin from a canoe has long since worn off and the fury of the sun right above our heads is not helping matters.
We tried to hide beneath our sarongs but the trick did not work because the day after, Mich was as red as a lobster. Methink she’s been traumatized by the sun for life because she won’t let another inch of her skin exposed to even a hint of sunlight.
White Island has less personality than Mantigue but it knows how to keep its mysterious charm. Just that morning, when we were having our breakfast, I pointed how the island amazingly popped up out of nowhere. We hardly noticed it the day before despite the fact that we were seated on the same table, and we even swam at the beach before we went to sleep.
White Island has less personality because it was just a sandbar in the middle of sea. Only recently did I discovered that a “sandbar” is a huge lump of sand that decided to spring from the belly of the sea just so it can have its equal share of the sun.
The island was too commercialized for my taste. There were cottages and mini stalls that sell food, beads, and drinks. I guess when you just came from an isolated beautiful place like Mantigue, you begin to resent the number of people suddenly sharing the space and the water with you.
Tourists and proud of it
The next day we toured around the main island (yeah, Camiguin has lots and lots of islands). We tried to follow the ascending trail steps of the Old Volcano made for the 14 Stations of the Cross. We (or at least I) didn’t fancy ourselves as mountain climbers at the time because at the third station, we raised our hands and screamed “Let’s give up!”
We made sure that we took plenty of photos of ourselves to prove that we were there.
One of the most memorable spots in the island for me is the huge cross at the Sunken Cemetery. It’s a place for deep-thinking and sincere prayers. You want peace? It’s there.
The combination of the sea breeze, the sound of the ocean hitting the sides of the foundation, and the shadow of the cross on the water gives you a sense of tranquility. It’s like a home away from home.
I never felt that way about a place before. It’s like the whole thing hugs you tight into its comforting arms and tells you to relax and let go whatever emotional baggage you’re carrying with you.
“In this place, you can write poetry,” Jaycee declared. In retrospect, in that place you don’t have to write poetry because it is.
Another spot where I won’t dare miss if and when I get back to the islands is the Katibawasan Falls. The freezing water was refreshing. The strong spray of water on my face was wonderful. It’s almost like having a free facial. I was aiming to touch at least the end of the falls, but the descending water was too strong, and I was scared that the current might suck me in.
On our last night, we went to Ardent Hot Springs where we got our shoulders rubbed by the man-made mini falls. It was heavenly.
The attraction
Camiguin is a paradise, but part of its magic is the people. Except for those lousy few who seemed hell-bent on driving us to the poorhouse, the island is just full of warm, friendly and humorous locals.
It’s a place where you get to dine with a government official. He’ll stop by your table and say “hi” casually.
The restaurant manager who looks like Einstein gave us discounts because it was Holy Week, and he even promised that if we visit the next day, the grilled oysters would be on the house. Another officemate who also happened to be there revealed that Einstein is actually a close friend of the late great food critic Doreen Fernandez.
One guy at the carinderia made it his personal responsibility to keep us happy. Every few minutes he’d ask us if there was anything, anything we needed, all we had to do is ask. What a sight it was! Jaycee and I sitting on two monobloc chairs, our humble food atop a rickety wooden table with a plastic covering yet we were receiving a five-star service.
Before we packed our bags, we bought some Pastel bread, yema flavor by Vjandep Bakery. Locals highly recommend this delicacy as a must pasalubong.
Though Manila is my first love and I might not want to live in Camiguin forever, I definitely wished I could’ve stayed longer than the four days/three nights holiday.
Lui, Jaycee and Mich are my ultra thin officemates. If there is one lesson learned from this whole experience it is this: When you want your photo taken, don't stand next to women who could pass as Sports Illustrated models. They would only make your ass bigger than it really is.
***
You're Catch-22!
by Joseph Heller
Incredibly witty and funny, you have a taste for irony in all that you
see. It seems that life has put you in perpetually untenable situations, and your sense
of humor is all that gets you through them. These experiences have also made you an
ardent pacifist, though you present your message with tongue sewn into cheek. You
could coin a phrase that replaces the word "paradox" for millions of
people.
Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
Ang galing! I was reading this book during our Camiguin adventure. Hehehehe, yeah, that's one of my ultimate dream, me lying on a hammock, near the beach, on hand is a good book. :) To quote a line from the book, "Catch-22 is the best catch there is."
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