LAGATAW'S Shoestring Travel Essentials

When traveling in the Philippines, you won’t have to ask questions if you do a RESEARCH of the destination before travelling. But if you are like me who randomly hops on a bus and gets off at some anonymous place, you may want to consider the following.

1. KNOW WHO TO ASK
A stranger is most often recognized by touts.  A SMART TRAVELER SHOULD ALSO KNOW HOW TO IDENTIFY A TOUT. A tout often throws in the first question. The tout will pace with you. Politely give him the cold shoulder by walking in a way that tells him either that somebody’s gonna pick you up or that you've been to the place ten times. Tinkering with your phone usually does the trick. But if you fear that your phone might be snatched, a smile will do.

Golden Rule when travelling to a charted destination: They don’t ask you QUESTIONS. You do. And you should know who to ask. Ask those who are busy doing what they do on their ordinary day. An old woman is usually my first pick for a source of information. In case no meek-looking person is available, don’t accept answers such as ‘Tara, sakay ka lang sa motor ko’ or ‘Sunod ka lang sa akin!’

When they ask you too many ‘Where are you going?’ and ‘What are you doing here?’ questions, your answer shouldn't be a derivative of ‘I am a splurging tourist’ or “I am a commie doing some covert operation”.

2. TRAVEL ON A FINE DAY

3. Bring a HAMMOCK or a SLEEPING BAG and a TARP. 

In case your unplanned destination doesn’t have available accommodation and either you are too shy to ask for one or the locals are not very welcoming, you can still have a good night’s sleep.

4. Put on some MUSIC and/or bring a BOOK. 
Most often they make better companions than your friends.

5. DON’T STARVE YOURSELF. 
Pineapple tidbits in an easy open can or in a foil pack is a convenient emergency food. It could be a snack or a meal complete with sugar and fluid.

6. Whatever happens, WATER MEANS LIFE!

7. DROPPING NAMES often helps.
You may get these names from the locals themselves. 

During my first visit in Mt Lanaya, the locals, who never saw strangers in their little sitio, kept asking me about the purpose of my visit.

(This conversation has been translated from Cebuano to Filipino)
‘Ano sadya mo dito?’

‘Check ko lang yung pinaaalagaang baka ng tita ko.’

‘Kanino pinaalagaan?’

‘Nakalimutan ko yung name e…pero siya yung may ari nung huling bahay bago umahon sa burol.’

‘A si Manong Danny’

‘Yownh! Kay Manong Danny!’

And that’s how my fictitious aunt story got the locals to ask me questions which they never expected would give me the essential information about their place. Yes, not only answers give information. When the next household asked me the same question, I only had to drop the name Manong Danny and I was allowed a peaceful passage. Oh, by the way, don’t be so naïve as to think Manong Danny is his real name. I don’t disclose that kind of information.


8. EVERY PLACE IS JUST AS GOOD AS YOUR TARGET DESTINATION. 

Never ‘overglorify’ your target destination. So never worry if you fail to get to your destination. Just appreciate the place where you got stranded. Very often, you fail to see the unique beauty of a particular place because you’re too busy expecting a picture of a specific destination.


9. NEVER GIVE A TIP! 

Don’t pay more than the standard price even if your reason is to return a stranger’s kindness. KINDNESS should be returned not in monetary form or gift. This will just start a culture of extortion among the locals. And take it from a Philosophy freak like me, GIVING is not really selfless. GIVING is one of the most selfish acts available to the vainest person.

10. Finally, DON'T ASK; DON'T TELL.

If you see a photo of a good place, don’t ask where it is. Just find another one. And if you find an undiscovered little paradise, post pictures but don’t tell people how to get there. Otherwise, it will cease to be a paradise in no time.

Jesus Was Born a Camper

Just like the manger where Jesus was born, a tent symbolizes humility and survival. It is a testimony that wherever we may be and however hard a condition we are subjected to, a true green camper will get by.

Camping is having fun outdoors. But we must not forget that camping also means surviving without a home and a toilet over a night or three.

Camping could mean a chance to go wild and dirty on a four-by-four. But very often, camping involves trekking that could require twenty-four hours and twenty-four hundred meters above sea level.

Camping could mean a chance to flirt with someone in a group of two hundred. But sometimes it could mean finding someone you could trust your life with because you are going into the wild with just two individuals or at times, just yourself.

Camping could mean your personal exhibit showcasing the top-of-the-line shoes from The North Face and the most expensive tent from Eureka. But camping could sometimes be as primeval as making fire out of twigs and cooking rice in a bamboo shaft.

So you can go ahead and tag your wicked boss in a photo shouting you survived Mt Halcon or you could put your survival skills to the test by actually quitting that job you have regularly bitched about on your wall.

It’s really totally up to you. You could think of camping as picking the best view for a selfie and the vainest of lines to caption it. Or you could consider it an opportunity to picture your real self. It is a chance to find out whether you may survive even if another Yolanda levels your house to rubbles.  It is a chance to experience letting go and having the least and a chance to find happiness in the midst of destitution. After all, life is all about definitions.

Camping is Living!

So, Merry Camping and a Happy Living!

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 Islandd

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.

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.

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.