Jet Lag or Insomnia? Or Just Plain Crazy?

It's the first week of my final semester, and I am in turmoil over what's to come. Afraid. Anxious. Excited. All of the aforementioned. No more school to delay this port to adulthood and real life. Lots of big girl decisions in the next few months. Could change my life. And I think I'm gonna let it.

Raindrops on Roses and Whiskers on Kittens

Brooklyn Bridge Park


Right now, I miss:
Honey Wheat Bread
Going to the pool in February
Feeling my nose and my toes

I really, really don't like:
Walking around in arctic temperatures

But I LOVE:
The option to walk everywhere and public transportation
The change in seasons (Fall and Spring are just beautiful)
Having ANY type of food delivered to my doorstep
The feeling that everyone around you is there for the same reason:
To make it happen

Gilligan (and the Skipper too)

Underground River, Palawan, Puerto Princesa, Philippines


We woke up extra early to go to the Underground River. There were 20+ of us in the van and about 18 of us had flights that afternoon. (This is will important information later.) We get to the docking area after a two hour drive, so it's around 9 or 10. Our tour group is pretty far down the list, so we decide that it's a good time to eat lunch so that we don't waste time. We walk to the resort that provided our lunch, and walk back, hoping it's time for us to board.

Apparently some boatmen are refusing to go because of the waves, and to slow things down even more, they're only allowing four people to a boat rather than the usual eight. With the first of our flights at 5:30, our guide is saying there's a chance we might not go. Thousands of miles to see this Underground River, and he's saying we might not go?! Well, my mom had a few words for him. Others agreed, and I'm sure were thinking the same thing, but still.. inappropriate.

After a bit of a wait, and lots of uncertainty, we all make it to see the Underground River. And it was incredible. Beautiful.

But the real adventure came afterwards. The ride over was already a little rocky. And the trip back, well, it was getting past the break that was most tricky.

The boatmen kept anchoring the boats closer to the cliffs, so fighting the waves both from the shore and the side of the mountain. They'd run towards the ocean, but the boats kept coming back. Some were filling with water. Another broke down, and just kind of sat there. With it getting worse, we were wondering if we were ever going to get off that island and make our flight. My dad and uncle, former and present boatmen, respectively, had to help get those boats back in the ocean.

Well, we made it on ours. We were the last of our tour group that had a flight to catch. We jumped out of the boat and into the van that was taking us back to our hotel. It was 3-something. We had a two hour drive. And the van that was taking us could only fit 3 more people, leaving my mom, my aunt and my uncle behind. We just crossed out fingers and hoped they'd make it back in time. The three of us, my dad, my great aunt and I took van number one, and were going to pack everything and meet them at the airport.

It was about 5:30 when we got to the hotel. We packed up all our stuff and headed to the airport. Our flight was at 6. We checked in our bags. But problem: We were still missing 3 people. We told the airport staff they were on the way; that they were close. Five 'til, and we had about given up. It was the last flight out for the day, and we'd have to wait until around 10am the next to fly out. It wouldn't have been a big deal, except for the next day was Tuesday, Balikbayan Day at my church, where we'd meet the Executive Minister. Just as we folded and as the airport staff walked out to get out luggage off the plane, we saw it. The oversized van came steaming in, and they we caused a whole commotion and they called to the staff, telling them to leave our stuff on the plane. We ran through like madmen. And ran through plane, to our seats. At the back of the plane. Last row. Everyone staring.

Well, I wanted a more exciting trip.

No Man is an Island

Snake Island, Bohol, Philippines


We started the day thinking we'd be going to the Underground River, but since the tide was too high, they weren't letting people go there. Change of plans: We were going to go snorkeling and island hopping instead.

We got to the place where the boats were docked, and genius! I forgot the battery for my camera! It's sitting in the charger, and I packed it up in a hurry. Anyways, we resolved my absentminded-ness, and continued our trip. First thing: snorkeling in the reefs. Pretty freakin' awesome. Now, this is more like it. We finished up there, and the boat left for Snake Island, named for the serpentine shape of its shoreline. So we're cruisin', then click-click-click. The motor stopped. We're in the middle of the sea. Another little boat passed us, stared, then turned around and our boatman throws and rope over and we were towed the rest of the way to the island. Well, we got there. Hopefully, this will be fixed or they'll have sent another boat for us by the time we finished our lunch.

We got to Snake Island and were greeted by starfish and delicious food. Some people on our tour sat and let their food digest, taking a break from all the swimming, others hopped back in the water, or strolled along the shore. I dug around for some little sand dollars, figured I could do something with 'em. Our guide tells us that it's time to go to the last island so we should head back to the boat. They tried to start it. Nope. That's a no-go, sir. Remember how we hoped they would've fixed this problem by the time lunch was over? Yeah. That didn't happen. So we sat there. My dad took a nap on the sand. A solid 15-20 minutes later, the guide tells us to walk back, and that we'd have to wait for a new boat? Really? Wtheck? Nice job, guide. Disgruntled, we mosey our way back, and jump over and limbo under the other tethered boats. We weren't so upset about being stuck on this beautiful island. We were on vacation. What else were we going to do, anyway? We were just kind of annoyed with our guide at this point. He probably should've bought us all massages. One hour later, and we're on boat #2. Relaxed on the first ride over, half of our tour didn't bother to zip up our life jackets. This ride, hah! With the waves getting bigger, and the sky getting darker, coupled with the pitter patter of the engine, I looked around then made sure my jacket was zipped and tied. And every time the boat started to make that low hum, our eyes widened, not sure if it'd stop again. We looked up to our guide for reassurance. He was asleep.

So you'd think that's the end of our island troubles, don't you? Nope. We still gotta whole 'nother day to cover.

Island Blues

Puerto Princesa's Baywalk


We had just arrived in Puerto Princesa after a couple of days in Bohol, and after a kinda rough start, I thought the worst was over and that my parents understood the types of things I wanted to do. Not saying that everything we do had to be this out-of-control-let’s-jump-out-of-planes type of thing, but if it had a lot to do with practically going into mini zoos to look at tarsiers and pythons and other caged animals, that you could count me out. As I said, I thought we were past that.

Nope.

We got to this sweet hotel, and that afternoon we left for the city tour. First stop: the crocodile farm. F, man. What the heck. Whatever. So I grin and bear it. But then where do we go? Basically, it was a luxury prison. Frick on a stick. Can’t I catch a break? We stay there for a little, wait while my mom decides what she wants to buy, from the inmates there, and we finally make it out. The prison grounds were actually quite beautiful. Kinda reminded me of Shashank Remdemption, because it had a library and recreation center. I’m pretty sure those prisoners were livin’ better than most of the population.

So I’m already irritated, to say the least. We stop by this club house with a beautiful view, then Baker's Hill, where there were lots of restaurants and a garden (which I walked through.. quickly), then we DROVE past the local street market, through the city’s Baywalk, and past some other parks and this cute, old cathedral. We stopped, alas, at this indoor market.

Seriously?

I come to this island that everyone says is so beautiful, and my first few hours I go to a crocodile farm, and a prison? Are these the pictures I’m gonna bring back, and is this what I’m supposed to tell my friends? There isn’t much I can do to embellish these stories. I think that would just be called lying. You could wrap poop with flower petals, but it’s still poop.

Maybe it’s the way I like to travel. I like touristy things, but not like this. There’s an art to travelling. There’s a way to become a part of the town you’re in; to become more than a spectator. I hated sitting in that van, looking at this city through the glass. I wanted to be dropped off at that outdoor market, and walk to the bay and wander along the boardwalk.

I was not happy (lightly put).

I just wanted to go to bed. The sooner I went to sleep, the sooner I’d wake up to a new day. That Underground River better live up to the hype.

Come In With the Rain

Bohol, Philippines


I never really understood why people loved rain so much. Sure, it's a great excuse to stay inside and have a movie marathon, or read a good book. But most of the time, it's pretty annoying. And afterwards, it makes the air heavy and sticky. And all you can smell is sizzling asphalt. Like I said, I never really understood why people loved rain so much.

Until now.

It's difficult to describe how the rain in the Philippines feels so different. It doesn't feel like an inconvenience like it does in the city. Maybe it's because it's still so undeveloped by modern society standards, largely untouched by big businesses and huge skyscrapers. You understand that it's just a part Mother Nature's course. You accept it. And appreciate it.

I totally get it now.

It's cooling. It brings in such a sweet breeze, that you can hear weaving through the trees. And the sound it makes it when it falls on those trees, and the pitter patter on the leaves of the roof; it's soothing. Like Mother Nature singing you her lullaby. And the smell.. refreshing in way that makes you feel renewed. And you feel like everything around you has been given a little more life.

It's beautiful.

Life Beneath the Nipa Hut

Lumban, Laguna, Philippines


We had spent the first couple of days in Manila, and after we attended service at Templo, we left for Pagsanjan, Laguna, the province that my dad is from; the town I adored so much that I spent three years in a row going there when I was in 4th, 5th and 6th grade. I didn’t care too much about seeing the rest of the country. The river, my family, and the friends I made there were enough for me. I spent hours in the river, catching tadpoles, jumping off logs, or eating lunch on banana leaves with my feet dangling in the water. Some days, my titos would take me up a couple of rapids to cool off, or we would sneak into the lodge where there were pools of hot spring water, and when the occasion called for it, we’d go all the way up the river to see the falls.

More than a decade later, the river looks the same, but the roads seem smaller. The room I stayed in seems bare. The little hut by the side of the house where we’d all sit and hang out is still there, but surely no one’s used it in while. You can see the watermarks on the front of my dad’s old house from when it flooded, about nine feet up. And it makes me wonder how this little old town is still standing after all of these years. And what’s more impressive is that the furniture in my dad’s house is exactly the same as what he grew up with. You look around and wonder how in the world someone let me wander these streets when I was 11 or 12. Then you decide that it’s not like I would’ve let anyone tell me different. (At least that much hasn’t changed.)

The friends I made have children and are married, and have been replaced by their younger siblings and those baby cousins that were only one or two when I was there last. Different but the same. Most of my titos and titas haven’t aged a bit, and they welcome us back with wide arms and the best food ever. And every few minutes I had to turn away because I seemed to always be on the verge of crying.

Lumban, Laguna, Philippines