Sunday, November 23, 2014

Been There, Done That, Got the Ink

About five years ago, I wanted to visit a great artist in Kalinga. I wanted to take home a piece of her artwork with me. That time, only a few talked about her. At least that’s what I thought. Every year, I would plan it but for some reason it always got back-burnered.  Today, the ubiquity of her face and her art on the Internet has made me feel thankful…very thankful that I stopped pushing for that journey to see her.

I once committed the crime of turning a cultural heritage into a photography prostitute. It became a shining medal for my vanity. Fortunately, not many people followed suit.
The traveller's crime that I committed some years ago.

But when Facebook became the motor that mobilized people’s vicarious lives, vanity found its swift bandwagon that would pick up more and more people for a fun ride.


And along with vanity’s joy ride, the artist has been reduced to a tourist attraction—a living museum artifact. The only difference is that in museums, we are not allowed to take pictures. And the fact that the artist is not getting any younger and that she is believed to be the last practitioner of her craft has sent more and more eager visitors scrambling for the cultural heirloom—a limited-time offer for the tourist's ultimate mantra, ‘Been there, done that, got the ink!’ And in exchange for a little sum and some vainglorious remarks of admiration and compassion, the visitor takes home a story complete with pictures of the artist. And all these pictures and stories of the many travelers that have come and gone will populate the Internet screaming the same theme —the coerced appreciation of the dying art and the make-believe campaign to support and save it. But if you really dig deep into it, you might realize that probably it’s all about the bragging rights that the tattoo gives them!

Blogger's note: The blogger later found out that the artist's craft is being kept alive by a couple in Buting, Pasig. It is said that the couple received the blessing of the great artist herself to continue the art.

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

The Drawbacks of Traveling Solo

A fellow solo traveler once expressed her sentiments on how constantly she is beset with prejudicial curiosity when traveling alone. The society, as it is, has this common notion that a woman needs a companion to somehow ensure her safety. So she asked whether there ever were drawbacks to being a solo traveler among guys. At that time I couldn't think of any until I had my most recent travel.

If there was one thing I could say I have fully developed in the ten years that I've been travelling, that would have to be my ability to get along with the locals very quickly. And this has been easily achieved because I travel alone most of the time. Being alone makes it less intimidating for the locals to deal with me. The connection you establish with the locals is essential in ensuring a fun and safe stay in a new place. I thought that was enough. I was wrong.

Your charisma and geniality lose efficacy when politics comes into play!
The mother is fishing amid the thundering Pacific waves of San Pablo Island
San Pablo Island, one of the twin islands off the shore of Hinunangan, Southern, Leyte was the last leg of my Leyte 360 itinerary. This destination is the least lustrous among the stops I made in this week-long journey. But I chose it to be the location for my birthday as it is unpopular and expectedly as immaculate as could be (the place turned out to be familiar with tourists). I just wanted to be with people who didn't know who I am and who didn't care about the significance of my travels.

The lovely beaches of Canigao and Limasawa had made the pebbly shores of San Pedro and San Pablo islands look like swamps. But trust me I had fun with the locals. I honestly want to tell you more of the fun I had during my two nights in San Pablo Island but the terrible experience I had in that place dims my mood to write a positive note of the place. So I will just be sharing that horror story that gave me my most ‘peaceless’ bus ride back home. My ears fell deaf to the playlist I was forcing myself to enjoy while in transit. Here is the story.
My humble birthday celebration: this was the fun part, before politics blemished the journey
When I arrived in Hinunangan from San Juan, I followed my travel protocol: log in at the municipal hall and barangay hall. I was actually accompanied by the boatman (who happens to be a barangay councilor in San Pablo) when I logged in at the barangay hall. One woman there posed with a certain air of distinction. We exchanged cordial smiles and greetings. I believed she was the barangay chairman so I thought that was already enough courtesy call. 

On my second night, however, the real barangay chairman came to the boatman’s house (where I stayed). He had heard of my presence in the island. In a polite tone, he was asking about my identity saying that he was just concerned about the security of his constituents. Unfortunately, I had lost all my ID’s along with my wallet that I left in a cab while processing my employment documents in Cebu. I do have a passport but I don’t carry it with me when I expect to climb mountains. And I had already surrendered my recent employment ID when I quit. My host reassured him that I had logged in at the barangay hall. He was appeased a little bit but after a few seconds I heard the most ridiculous investigation a traveler could have. “Naa ka’y dala nga cedula?” (Do you have a residence certificate?). When I said no, he preached that all travelers should carry a cedula with them when travelling. That’s when I reckoned that with that kind of leadership the backward community may take decades to progress. I was tempted to be sarcastically rude by asking the question ‘Katong puti nga laki ganiha gipangayuan sad nimo og cedula?’ (Did you also ask for a cedula from the Caucasian visitor?). But I chose to just apologize and say ‘Sige po. Next time timan-an na nako!’ (I’ll surely take note of that next time.) The conversation was not really as intense as we both were honestly feeling. We maintained an air of courtesy and we kept apologizing to each other for the inconvenience. When we said goodbye to each other, I suddenly remembered, I had my credit card and my two ATM cards that bear my name. I showed them to him and I was assured that would seal the drama off.

In the morning of my departure, however, he came to the house sooner than I woke up. He said that the chief of police had told him to escort me to the PNP station. And I was like, What?! I calmly said ‘All right.’ It was becoming an intolerable annoyance but I just kept my cool. When I asked how the PNP knew about my stay, he said that some locals may have texted the PNP! Wow the locals have the cell phone number of the chief of police and they texted him within that span of time! Nice try! But it doesn’t take a genius to know what really was happening!

His eagerness to cross the sea to personally escort me to the PNP station and miss the important barangay meeting they were to have later that day helped me formulate this theory:

He wanted to update his political resume. He wanted to add ‘He is the great barangay chairman who caught an insurgent at large!’ And this is the scenario that he was insisting on establishing using the lame premise that I couldn’t present a cedula.

As nobody actually had informed the chief of police of my stay in the island, he gave a 10-minute briefing to the chief behind closed doors before I was summoned. After seven days of travelling, I was already sunbaked and I definitely looked more of a bum than a traveler. The chief, with his prying eyes, started with the question ‘Waray ka mga ID dida?’ (Can we present any form of identification?). The barangay captain had told him I was a Waray. I said ‘Waray kay nawara ha Cebu’ (I’ve lost all of them in Cebu). When the chief asked me to tell him what I was doing there I asked permission to express myself in a language I was most comfortable with—Tagalog with a bit of English. During my litany, I showed him my bank cards and a playback in my camera of the places I had traveled in the last seven days. I told him that I was just trying to help the tourism department of Southern Leyte and he was grateful about this. I also dropped the names of the police officers that I made friends with in Limasawa and Cabalian. The consistency of my story which was delivered with a seamless voice reassured him that I was telling the truth. Shortly after my statement, he said that he trusted I was from Carigara because back in the day, he knew a Captain Lloren who hailed from my town. Then I was dismissed and he started giving me friendly remarks on my way out. When I asked about an ATM in the town, he told the barangay chairman to escort me to the ‘co-op’ where I could withdraw cash. In his humiliation and defeat the Brgy captain was walking ahead of me noticeably faster than on our way to the police headquarters. He had lost his face. But we were still superficially courteous and friendly. Like I said, I have mastered the art of ‘public relations’ in my more than one decade of traveling…and in his case, as a politician for I don’t know how long.

The drama ended quickly but the trauma was so overwhelming as to make me write this whole story in my mind on my way back home. In hindsight, I wondered whether things would have unfolded differently if I had been a woman…or a Korean. I think the premise that the chairman used to qualify me as an insurgent was that I was a guy and that I was a Filipino. I also wondered whether it was originally pride that spurred him to harass me. He was probably offended why he wasn't given proper respects or the honors to receive me. It must have been hard for him to accept that these were all accorded to a mere kagawad instead. I wondered whether proper identification would have sufficed if I had had one or would he still have found other loopholes just to get back at me.


And so I have resolved to keep traveling alone and keep encouraging others to do so. I am hopeful that through this campaign, more and more people will be made aware that some people do travel solo...and that we are not necessarily insurgents! So that eventually, people will stop asking the annoying question ‘Why are you alone?’ And ultimately, no crook and no ignoramus may use the myths of travelling rebels as a pretext to harass a traveler just to adorn his political resume.

Friday, November 7, 2014

Limasawa: The Most Underrated Island in the Philippines

one of the pebbly beaches in San Bernardo
As a rule I don’t start a story with the hackneyed ‘ask a question’ style. Most experienced readers abandon a story at the sight of the question mark on the first two lines of a write-up. But I see no better way to start this story other than a probing question. But as I have already given you this prelude, I have already saved my rule.

Limasawa! What comes to your mind when you hear the name? Most of us would think of the first Catholic mass in the Philippines. After that, nada! Some of us don’t even know where Limasawa is. I, for one, never knew that it was just south of the province where I grew up until my history professor taught us to put emphasis on the root saysay in Kasaysayan. Sadly, the DECS (now DepEd) of my time was more interested in feeding us with plenty of trivia instead of the saysay of each story in history. As long as I could verbalize a fact, that was enough. I never bothered to investigate where Limasawa is. And that is the reason why Limasawa had remained trivial, unlocatable and uninteresting for me for a very long time. And if you try, you’ll find out that Limasawa has also remained uninteresting to most travel bloggers in the country. But I don’t blog. I tell stories. So here is the story of a place which made me stay longer than I had stayed in any other travel destination.

Saturday, November 1, 2014

Mt Cabalian (the hidden mountain)

a panorama of Lake Danao
I went to Mt Cabalian last week! Now tell me if the name rings a bell at all. This mountain has never been heard of by Facebook climbers in the Philippines. That is the reason why it has remained beautiful and sacred all these years.

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