A journey of endless wonder
By DAVID CASUCO/Editor-in-Chief, California Examiner
I was a little apprehensive when the Legend Hotel International executive, Francis Patrick C. Favoreal, suggested that I must as well swing by Palawan since my travel itinerary includes Caticlan-Boracay. The immediate image that flashed in my mind was a cluster of God-forsaken islands that host the Iwahig Penal Colony and the Culion Leper Colony, both infamous landmarks established by the Americans for the commonwealth society's misfits and rejects at the turn of the 20th century.
Favoreal and two of Legend Hotel International's marketing specialists, Jane Andres and Lynette Matencio, probably sensed my utter ignorance about the new Palawan and its booming eco-tourism, so they started talking the latest developments about the province and the interesting things about the Palawan experience. They talked about the Firefly Watching Activity, Underground River Tour, the Honda Bay Island Hopping, and the fresh water pearls. The breakfast meeting that I had with these young Legend Hotel Int'l execs was an eye-opener on my part. I was overwhelmed by their faith and passion for the country, a thing that I share with them, but don't see very often among Filipinos.
My perceived apprehension quickly vanished when I learned that nowadays the Iwahig is no longer a maximum security prison but more of a rehab penal farm; and there are no more people in the Culion Island that are afflicted by the dreaded biblical disease. The perceived shame and stigma that used to define the Southern Luzon province (not Visayas, as it is oftenly mistaken) has been replaced by travel and tourism epithets like "the Philippines last frontier" or "paradise islands."
"The Underground River I know, but what's the big deal about luminescent bugs?" I asked. Favoreal assured me that it is cool. "Just go. Trust me, a sensitive writer like you will definitely love the Palawan experience." He then instructed Ms. Lynette to re-work on my itinerary to accommodate the Legend-Palawan trip.
The initial e-ticket that I got would entail me to come back to Manila from Puerto Princesa and then from Manila I go back south to Caticlan-Boracay, then finally back to Manila. So then, I had to re-do my itinerary. I told the travel agent that if I have to do back and forth, I may just as well cancel Palawan. I said the thing that I needed is a Puerto Princesa-Caticlan flight booking on the third day of March. I asked them to check with SEA Air again, see if the 19+2-passenger aircraft that fly Caticlan-Puerto Princesa has available seat. The guy peered into his laptop one more time and presto, I got booked. The ticket, however, would come a day after because, I was told, SEA Air still does the old paper ticket. I was like, "have these guys heard about computers?"
The trip forced me to forgo my gig at the University of Santo Tomas, my alma mater, where I was to speak before two groups of students in Literary Journalism by Prof. Nenet Galang-Perena on March 4. Also, I had to cancel my booking for Catarman where I was to meet my brother at the Capitol.
Looking back at it now, the trip was well worth it; and then some.
The Air Philippines plane landed at the Puerto Princesa airport after an hour and a half flight from Manila. We have to disembark in the middle of the field and walk a few meters to a makeshift area where a short conveyor is set up since the Puerto Princesa airport is undergoing massive refurbishing.
The time was four-thirty in the afternoon when I pulled my luggage off the conveyor. Almost immediately I spotted my name high on the top the list of Legend Hotel guests. Other people might have loved it, but I was embarrassed when I read a VIP tag opposite my name.
"That is a mistake, I am no VIP," I told the driver of the hotel van.
The driver was in contact with somebody in his cell phone while he was putting in my luggage. He turned to me and said: "Tayo na sir, hinihintay ka na roon."
"No, let's wait for the other guys," I protested.
"Okay na sir, I will just come back for them, malapit lang ang Legend" he said, as he quickly hopped into the van and turned on the ignition key.
Thirty minutes later, I was at the Legend Palawan (www.legendhotels.com.ph) on Malvar Street, the premier hotel in the city of Puerto Princesa. The young man at the front desk asked me for my driver's license, and when he sensed that I was too tired to accomplish a form for anything, he just asked me my business card and handed me the key to my room.
"Excellent customer service for a starter," I thought.
But before I could do my next move, Marlon DelMundo, the young tourist guide who welcomed me earlier with a three-layered lei of puca shells, told me that I am supposed to be at the lobby in thirty minutes for the Iwahig River firefly watching tour.
When I told him I have to wash up and won't be ready in an hour, Marlon panicked as if what I just said could spell doom for his career.
"Sir, I understand that your plane was delayed for a couple of hours in Manila, but can you come down before five-thirty?" he implored, visibly stressed.
Realizing his day is about to get messed up, I told him: "Fine. I will make it as quick as possible."
The other tourist in the Legend Hotel's service van was a learned man from Israel. He seemed very knowledgeable about the Palawan islands. He was asking Marlon-the-tourguide curious questions that tourists are not supposed to know like, "Is that Coron Island?"
How in the world did he know that there is a Coron Island north of Palawan. Is this guy a member of the Intepol probing the Dos Palmas case? I must admit I felt ashamed, frustrated, and was a little bit offended by the fact that this tourist knows more about Palawan than myself, a certified Pinoy who was born and studied journalism in the Philippines.
We reached the Iwahig Firefly Activity station some forty-five minutes later. The place was lighted up by a hazy flourescent lamp. There were welcome signs, but people were nowhere to be found. Marlon-the-tourguide had to holler for people to come. From the cover of darkness, three young men came out showing paddles.
"I was expecting to see people doing bonfire. Why do they have access to power," I pointed out jestingly.
"They just have it lately, sir," said Marlon-the-tourguide. "Last year, you are right, they were still doing bonfires," he added, as if to courteously sustain the funny repartee. I was to learn later from Marlon that the young men are unpaid volunteers. Some are students from the Palawan State University.
(Left photo:The Iwahig River at dusk)The boat could only accommodate four people (two boatmen and two tourists). But with two 200-pounder, heavy-set guys like me and the Israeli, the boat was but a few inches afloat, and looked like it was ready to sink anytime. The other guy, I sensed, was a little nervous. He must have recognized that his life was in serious peril. He was asking me if the ride is safe. I told him not to worry and just make sure the vest is secure
"Do you know how to swim?" I asked.
"Not in a deep river on a dark night," he said.
I tried to inject humor and idiom to the precarious situation by telling him that this is one "journey to die for," but his mind was somewhere else. I was not thinking of any disaster. Aside from the life vest that the boatmen provided us, I can swim well and floats even without a vest. The only concern I had are the alligators deep down the brackish water of the Iwahig River.
"The water is about six meters deep. But there are no crocodiles. At least nobody has seen one," said the boatman infront of me who, I figure out, was designated to answer the common questions about fireflies, alligators, mangroves and, of course, the nuances and history attached to the Iwahig River. The same boatman told us that the nipa palm belongs to the family of mangroves, and that some of the mangrove trees found at the Iwahig River are not found anywhere else in the world.
After some 20 minutes of slow ride down the dark, mangrove-lined river, we saw a faint glow ahead. That was our first encounter with the luminescent kind. The fireflies hover around a certain kind of mangrove. We were told that the fireflies prefer the Maynilad, a kind of mangrove with rounded leaves and wiry branches.
The boatmen suddenly stopped talking, held off their paddles and, are you ready for this -- I thought I heard the footsteps of God. The stillness and serenity around us inspire awe and wonder. There was no sign of life, the sound of silence totally engulfed us. There was not even a sound of a cricket. The pale moon above us was barely enough to show the skyline of the Iwahig mountain range that serves as the backdrop for the picture perfect landscape. For the first time in my life I experienced such extreme tranquility that seems to confound the realm of the senses. If I was brought blindfolded to the place and was left alone to find out where I was, I would thought that I was left behind in a world I have never known.
We found two more mangrove trees with fireflies on our way back via the other side of the river, and then in a little over an hour we were reunited with our driver and Marlon-the-tourguide.
About 8:50 in the evening we were back in city. I quickly settled myself at the Legend Hotel's Tanglaw Restaurant where the last group of diners are doing desserts. I was sitting in one of tables listlessly sorting out my notes. At the same time I was trying to shake off the mesmerizing thrill of that nocturnal journey at the Iwahig River a few hours ago. Realizing that I just missed dinner and that the restaurant could be closing anytime, I moved out to the lobby where the smokers hang out and continued sorting out the materials for my Iwahig River journey.
Then, I was back in reverie... at the Iwahig River...
"Coffee, sir?" the waiter's voice from behind me cut short my procrastination and sent me crashing back to earth.
"Oh no, thanks," I said. "Give me some brackish water from the Iwahig River instead."
The waiter swallowed air.
"That was a joke, I was reading my notes," I said in Tagalog.
The waiter responded with an impish grin and left looking askance, as if saying, "Nalipasan yata ito ng gutom."
INTO THE CAVE
My wakeup call sent me straight to the shower. In an hour the tour bus is leaving for the Underground River Tour. "This one could be a lot more exciting. I heard a lot of people talk about it," I thought.I was at the bus at 7:00 a.m. all right. The one thing that California did taught me was to be on time. Amazingly, the local Pinoy tourists were up early as well.
"Come on, let's roll," I told the driver.
"Sir, we are still waiting for just one more," Marlon-the-tourguide replied
.
"Who the heck is he. Let's leave him behind, it's thirty minutes past the hour," the oldest man in the group, a retired U.S. navyman, insisted.
Marlon ran back inside the hotel to check how much longer would it take for the last passenger to come down. When the tour guide came back, he was with a tall Indian man. He was met with eight dour faces inside the van. The guy sat next to me at the back seat, so he was not able to get away with some piece of my mind.
"You had us waiting for nearly an hour. I thought that was a little rude," I chided the Indian guy."I'm sorry, but nobody told me the bus leaves at 7 a.m.," he answered.
"All right, somebody else's fault, no problem," I deadpanned.
After over two hours ride, some on dusty, unfinished roads, we arrived at the wharf called Sabang (meaning cove). We have to take another 30-minute motorboat ride to reach the Cave. But we got there late. Five or seven more tour groups arrived ahead of us. I heard Marlon-the-tourguide grumbling, and blaming the Indian guy for his Houdini act earlier.
I surveyed the place -- the souvenir stores, the hall, the bathroom, and I talked to the locals. I wanted to learn as much as I can. I need more materials aside from the tour guide's usual mumbo-jumbo stuff. At the souvenir stores, there is not much the tourist could benefit except the cold soda, the cigaret (which you can buy by 10-pcs. pack for P36), T-shirts, and an abundant supply of fresh water pearl that come in rings, earrings, bracelets, and pendants.The hall does not have chairs, the bathroom have shower rooms but the shower and the faucets do not work. One has to go out and fetch some bucket of water to wash up
.
There were paperworks to get done. I noticed that our tour guide was trying to circumvent the system so we can go to the cave immediately. I thought he successfully did it because it did not take us long for us to get accommodated.
At last, we arrived at the Subterrenean Cave National Park. The time was a quarter past 10 o'clock. Again, the Indian guy got the ire of everybody when he ignored the instructions of Marlon that no picture taking yet as we need to be all on deck immediately.
Our group was told that the wait is half an hour. Meanwhile, we had to undergo more paperworks: The first table, for registration; the next one, a vote for the Cave in the ongoing New 7Wonders of Nature contest (http://www.new7wonders.com/nature/en/vote_on_nominees).
There were only a total of eight boats doing the rounds. Each boat has a capacity of eight passengers, and there were about over a hundred tourists on deck.Suddenly, screams of little girls got everybody's attention. Then, we were looking up. All of us.
"Ahhh... look at him," a man said pointing to the wild monkey who just snatched the the little girl's tetrapack drink. The cameras went: Click, click, click.
"Stupid monkey. Tonight you will be on YouTube," said the visibly upset girl. "The whole world will know how stupid you are."
The girl's rant elicited smiles all around.
(Left photo: The Palawan Subterranean National Park)
At about 11 a.m. we finally had our turn. We sailed deep into the dark underground river with the boatman doing the tour presentation. He said that the river is actually eight kilometers long, generally regarded as the world's longest, but the tourists are only allowed the 1.8-kilometer navigable distance. Only credentialed extreme adventurers are allowed to go deeper into the subterrenean journey which, we were told, goes out directly to the South China Sea.
That was the only sensible thing that the boatman said. Everything else was garbage. When he described one rock formation as the posterior of Sharon Stone, I was ready to chastise him. But I realized that he is in control of the boat and we were deep inside a dark cave underneath a huge mountain. I don't know why the tourism people allow unlearned men to do this job. I prefer a volunteer college student, like the young man at the Iwahig River, who could tell the difference between the stalagmites from the stalactites.
The boat has a flashlight attached to a car battery. Whoever is in front of the boat gets the job of being the lightman. The cave is enchanting enough, but the intriguing formations of stalagmites and stalactites provide endless wonder to well-meaning tourists. My enchantment failed to hold water when the insensitive boatman started giving funny and mundane descriptions to the rock formations. Every now and then a drop of water would fall on me; a quite unsettling thing. I couldn't stop thinking that could be dropping from bats over us. Also, inside the cave we saw one white water snake, lots of bats, and some fish jumping up above the water.
I did not panic inside the cave. But, that does not mean I was not scared. For the first time, I realized I have some clustrophobic nerves. And although, we were told, that only the lower part of the river is subject to tidal influences, I couldn't help thinking, "What if at this hour a freak thing happens and the water level rises suddenly... Definitely, this could be the last minutes of my life." The thought sent mild shivers to my scary bones.
Then we reached that point where there is an unusually large chamber. The ceiling, we were told, is about 34-36 meters high. The place appears like a church sanctuary. A couple more minutes ride upstream and the boatman announced: "Hanggang dito na lang po."
In about 20 minutes we are out of the Cave.
On our way back to the motorboat we met by the road a fat monitor lizard (about 5 feet long). The wild animal became an instant object of adoration for the group. Again, the cameras went: Click, click, click.
Then, in another thirty minutes, we were back at Sabang Wharf. Our boat, and some four more behind us were not able to dock immediately as there was a television media crew from Manila who were playing like real hotshots at the wharf. These media people (caps and vests designed with big bold television network logo) were holding the boat traffic because they refused to follow standard protocols at the wharf.
"Can you believe these guys?" our tour guide asked, unmistakably frustrated.
"Yes, I do.... they have attitudes. Napapa-pansin lang ang mga 'yan. They are probably fake or pseudo-journalists. I see a lot of their kind in Los Angeles," I responded.
"Will they be included in your story, sir?" Marlon wondered aloud.
"No. Definitely not. I am no Pinnochio to get sucked into their puppet show," I said.
Our lunch was waiting for us at the Taraw Lodge at the nearby Sabang Beach. The Indian guy got excited again; this time, he saw the water buffalo towing a cart on the beach. I followed him for some photo ops, but the man leading the buffalo was less accommodating than the monitor lizard that we met earlier. He refused to stop the carabao!
Pissed off, I told the man that he is not the right guy for that job. "Parang hindi mo alam ang ginagawa mo. I can call the tourism people right now and, trust me, tomorrow you will be back in the boondocks," I told him.
But before the altercation could turn ugly, Marlon-the-tourguide came running to intervene.
Lunch at the Taraw Lodge comprise of steamed white rice, adobong kangkong, grilled pork belly (or sinugba na pecho as the locals call it), grilled fresh shrimp, grilled fresh fish, heavenly traditional Pinoy condiments, original sweet mangoes, organic ripe bananas (you could smell hinog ito sa puno) and fresh buko fruit. That settled any and all little unpleasant things that had happened in the morning.
On our way back to Legend Hotel, we were supposed to have a side trip to the Vietnamese Village, but the tour guide said there is not much to see because the Vietnamese have already integrated themselves into the mainstream Pinoy society or have moved somewhere else. Instead, we stopped to take pictures of the majestic mountains by the roadside that nature filled with granite and marble.
Then, at about three p.m., we are done for the day. My group, I heard, went on another tour. I went back to my room, took a warm shower, and quickly hit the sack. Thanks to a couple of generous whiskey shots.
HONDA BAY ISLAND HOPPIN'(Pandan Island, Honda Bay)
My third day itinerary indicates that I have to do breakfast at Legend Hotel's Tanglaw Restaurant at 7 a.m. The tour van departs for the Honda Bay Island tour at 8 a.m. No glitches this time. We hit the road exactly as scheduled. The trip entails a 25-minute ride to the Santa Lourdes Wharf, and then another 45-minute motorboat ride to Snake Island (so-called because of its slithery shape).
There were already a lot of tourists who got there before us. Some were swimming, some playing beach volleyball, the guys were eating and drinking booze. There were small shacks in the island. I learned from one of the vendors that they have permits from the tourism office to peddle their wares, and that they do not live in the island. At the end of the day, these people, who sell souvenir items and food, go back home to the main island.
I saw only mangrove trees in the island. I don't know if the other end of the island have palm trees or any different vegetation. But the local vendors have an ample supply of fresh young coconut fruit for everyone. The vendors also sell beer and soda.
The activities listed in our itinerary were swimming, snorkeling, and, the fun part, was fish feeding. It was a different experience. Schools of fishes, beautiful and colorful ones of all shapes and sizes would come right before your face when you scatter bread crumbs in the water. One guy from Chicago had his own snorkeling gizmo that has a built-in camera. It could take underwater pictures of the fishes. He showed me one nice picture of a group of multi-colored fishes. He said he is going to make it a screensaver for his laptop.
We were there for over two hours. We cancelled our running tour for the remaining three islands -- Luli, Bat & Meara Marina, and Starfish. Our guide was able to convince the group to just remain in Snake Island instead, as there is nothing new in the other three.
While we were walking back to our boat for our lunch at nearby Pandan Island, the local tourists were scrutinizing us and were talking about our group (there were 10 of us), saying that we have the biggest and the most beautiful boat. I was within an earshot, hugging and trying to hide my yellow-striped Legend Hotel beach towel, and pretending not to be a member of the group.
"Tingnan mo, ang beach towels nila pare-pareho," said one local.
"E, guests ng Legend ang grupong 'yan. Alagang-alaga ang mga 'yan," said the other.
The way they carried their conversation, I gathered and was able to establish that if you are a guest of the Legend Hotel, you are cut above the rest, a privileged one indeed.
Pandan Island is another version of island paradise. The beach is just as engaging as the Snake Island. There are a lot of coconut trees and there are makeshift shacks. Here and there Caucasian tourists could be seen basking under the sun, trying to get some good tan.
Just as as we settled down at a designated picnic area, guys from the resort island immediately bring in our lunch. I couldn't remember all the food they brought in. All I could remember is that everything they offered us was just the very thing that we wanted -- luscious papaya, banana, and mangoes, adobong kangkong, fresh grilled wild-caught fish, edible seaweed (lato) and traditional Pinoy condiments that reminded me of ole' grandma's kitchen.
Then we were on our way back to Legend-Palawan, the premiere hotel in Puerto Princesa that opened my eyes to the endless wonders of the Palawan Experience.
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BORACAY BECKONS...
The Legend-Palawan front desk clerks were just amazing. From my hotel room, they were able to hook me up with the Palawan City Mayor Ed Hagedorn for a quick interview. The hotel guys got me a driver to bring me to the residence of the Mayor, a well-secured ranch, just a 10-minute drive from the hotel.
But first I had to check out as my flight to Caticlan/Boracay will be up in a couple of hours. Mayor Hagedorn was very accommodating, very smart, and very engaging. He told me that Palawan is not yet ready for a massive tourist traffic because the necessary infrastructures are not yet in place. He is proud of what his government has accomplished for the city. And understandably so. Puerto Princesa has kept its image as the "last frontier, " making it "the greenest and the cleanest city in the Philippines."(to be continued...)
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