WriteBrain

Published: Expat Travel and Lifestyle Magazine 2008
Underwater photos: Jason Hui

A plunge into Bohol's pristine waters brings a reluctant, first-time diver face-to-face with the surly creatures of the deep, in a mesmerizing landscape unrivaled by anything that can be seen on land.

From a certain altitude, Bohol's famed Chocolate Hills, once a contender for a spot in The New Seven Wonders of the World, look like little green swells bespeckled with several shades of brown. They are exactly what their name implies – hills that take on a chocolate hue during the dry months. All 1,268 mounds of limestone are perfectly shaped and clustered together, a natural geological formation that occurs nowhere else on God's green earth.

I had to content myself with an aerial view of this Western Visayan province's most recognizable landmark because the focal point of the trip is not any land-based terrain. Balicasag Island of Bohol was the site of the third annual Diplomat's Dive, organized by the Philippine Commission on Sports Scuba Diving under Executive Director Cynthia Carreon. Members of the diplomatic corps and guests were gathered for this ecotourism quest to partake of, and promote the Philippines' many first-rate dive spots.


Oval-shaped Bohol and its 72 smaller islands are surrounded by beautiful coral reefs abundant with marine life,making it a popular choice for professional and neophyte divers – of which I was neither, nor did I ever desire to be. Regarding the beauty of the world beneath the sea, Jacques Yves-Cousteau, the father of scuba diving, uttered the famous line, il faut aller voir or “we must go see for ourselves.” Msr. Cousteau, I really would have rather not.

To conquer our fear, we must find a way to confront it. Otherwise, it will find a way to confront us,like it or not. Participating in a diving expedition posed a little problem for me, what with my absolute fear and loathing of the open sea and the creatures that live in it. A competent swimmer, I've always been been comfortable in pools. The sea is another story. There are no undertows in pools, for one thing. And notwithstanding small children who don't know any better, no creature “does its business” in chlorinated waters.

When I was told that arrangements have been made for me to take introduction to diving I nearly balked. But the prospect of having to produce a thousand-odd words about the trip to Bohol sans the diving seemed more daunting than actually going underwater. There's only so much one could say about yet another white-sand beach; or the tarsier, the world's smallest primate native to the region; or the Chocolate Hills which were, in fact, green this time of year. I had to return to Manila with a story. It was not a time to be prissy.

Diving for Dummies

From Alona Beach, the group boarded boats that took us to Balicasag Island, where the real action was to take place. With my heart in my throat, I struggle laboriously into a wetsuit. I'd hope that donning the full regalia, with the suit, fins and mask, would transform my dread to happy anticipation. What it succeeded in doing, instead, was make me feel like an ungainly, over-stuffed penguin. At long last, and with the help of two people, I was zipped up and ready for the descent into Davy Jone's locker.

We bounded off the both in pairs into shallow waters to slowly make our way further into the open sea. As if in involuntary protest, I rose relentlessly back to the surface after numerous attempts to sink. Some additional pounds later, I was kicking and flipping my fins to the briny deep

The move from the surface to the depths is never simple, even for the pros. Contrary to my concerns, my ears and equipment cooperated fully. It was my courage that faltered during the mere 8-meter descent. I was petrified and teetering on a panic attack the whole time.

Just breathe. The instructions seemed simple enough to comprehend back in the boat and I was sure I had it all down pat. The most crucial detail somehow managed to slip my mind. Before I could struggle to the surface to let some air into my aching lungs, I suddenly remembered that's what the thing in my mouth, called a regulator, was for.

Enveloped by an eerie expanse of cobalt, I soaked it all up with wide-eyed wonder – until I caught sight of the drop where the blue gradually blended to black, suggesting a seemingly bottomless trench. Unknowingly, I had swum chillingly close to the edge. In that depth, no one will hear even the loudest screams, as I found out. I grabbed my dive buddy and, with a violent shake of my head, signaled for us to veer away from the drop as far as possible.

The Silent World
“How inappropriate to call this planet 'Earth', when it clearly is 'Ocean'...” said the novelist Arthur C. Clarke. Indeed, it was silly of me to be so astounded by the wealth of life that thrived underwater when it covers three-quarters of the globe. This was the “silent world” that Cousteau raved about that I was seeing for myself, a silent sanctuary where all I could hear were my own breathing and the thunderous pounding of my heart.

Past the cascade of bubbles that floated up my face, I watch arresting and brightly hued corals, bigger and infinitely more beautiful than anything I'd seen during the few times that I've snorkeled, and unfamiliar sea creatures, exquisite in their oddity. Schools of fish in varied shapes, sizes and trimmings warily swam away as I, an interloper from the surface world, lurched to get near them. Incorrigibly nosy now that I had gotten over my initial fright, I got wallowed towards a triggerfish, delighted that it didn't seem to scare away easily. Nevertheless, the sea is a forbidding place, inhabited by hostile creatures. The pretty little triggerfish tried to take a bite off my finger as I reached out to touch it.

Not to far away was a school of clownfish, the kind immortalized in Disney's Finding Nemo. I not only found Nemo, I touched him as well. He, too, tried to take a bite of my finger. They didn't show that in the movie!

Huge electric blue starfishes covered the ocean floor. They looked harmless enough so I plucked one out gently to get a better look. I put it back where I found it soon after. No starfishes were harmed during my deep sea adventure.

The best thing about the dive sites in Bohol is that one doesn't need to go too deep into the sea to glimpse its wonders. This also allows for more than enough bottom time. If it wasn't for the curious absence of the voice-over narration of the marvels before my eyes I could've sworn I swam right into a National Geographic special. I was enchanted, and it went a long way to quell my fear of the deep blue sea.

I saw the bottom of our boat floating above even before we broke into the surface, dispelling my earlier fear of drifting to far and getting lost at sea. I can't claim to be a convert, but the next time I get forced to go diving I certainly wont put up a fight. The horror of the anticipation and the needless little anxieties are a small price to pay for the private thrill of being where few people are privy to. And nothing is as good as the untasted joys of what lie beyond one's personal uncharted realms.

Published: Expat Travel & Lifestyle Magazine 2007

A gateway to earthly delights with a heavenly backdrop, it beckons people the world over to experience its splendor. Yet Boracay reserves its most enchanting self to the expats who call it home.

It is hailed as one of the best beaches in the world. Indeed, Boracay developed to be one of the more popular tourists’ destinations in the Philippines, drawing in a little over half a million international and domestic tourists last year.

With its sugar-white beaches and the crystalline, blue waters that surround it, this tiny, 7 kilometer long, dog-bone shaped island off the tip of the Western Visayas Region of the Philippines island fits everyone’s description of island paradise. Quandaries seem to lose their urgency as if blown away by the balmy tropical breeze.

At present, the image of Boracay as a serene island getaway is often over-shadowed by its burgeoning reputation as the ultimate summer party destination for city-dwellers. A sub-culture of tourists, encourage by the lower cost of transportation and clever marketing, is turning Boracay into a place of decadence and revelry, an island-style echo of their city night-life.

After the summer months much of the island reverts back to tranquility, a quiet reprieve until the next peak-season. If at first I thought it odd to plan a jaunt to Boracay in June, the tail end of summer when the rains start coming in, the scorching sun that greeted the instant I stepped out of the airplane quickly proved me ill-informed. Unbeknownst to first-time visitors such as I, the island surprisingly retains its summer-like weather even in the monsoon season. Even more surprising was the steady stream of tourists the island attracts all year round. I was told, in fact, that most returning vacationers precisely avoid the crowded summer months.

In the nearly deserted shoreline, everything takes on a life of its own; the warm sand rises up in soft swirls around my feet as I walked towards the lapping tide. The water is cool and inviting, without realizing it, I had stroked out, fifty yards or so. Lying on my back, I let the gentle swell of the waves lull me to utmost relaxation.

I was booked in Fridays Resort which rests at the northern end of the island. The cottages are situated around a charming fresh water swimming pool within a tropical garden setting around a beach courtyard. The bar and the 120-seat capacity restaurant had a gorgeous view of the beach. The place was designed with a distinctly native Filipino styling with all the modern amenities this hapless city girl simply cannot do without, air-conditioning, a mini-fridge and bar, DVD player, 27-inch cable TV and telephone. I stayed in one of the recently completed Premier rooms, conveniently located up the stairs from the swimming pool. It was a gorgeous, airy and circular, that came with a collosal bathroom with an elegant tub and showers facing large floor-to-ceiling windows. The private veranda also offered a marvelous seaside view.


If its Boracay. It must be Fridays. It’s not a tag-line they thought of on their own. It came from guests who sincerely had a wonderful stay. Without a doubt, I can’t imagine Boracay any other way. It’s got to be Fridays. The sand in Fridays beachfront is unlike the rest of the island. It’s considered to be the finest and cleanest in Boracay. Because it is at the northern end, guests can escape for some peace and quiet when the rest of the beachfront is on a frenzied partying mood. But if they want to partake of the festivities, all it takes is a short, beachside walk.

Like a postcard come to life, the place deserves all the hype that surrounds it. It’s not a mystery why foreigners –from diplomats to jet-setting tourists– are drawn to this little corner of the archipelago, and why some of them choose to make it their home.

Boracay grapples with modernization, striving to keep its unspoiled beauty that it is known for. Certainly, the burdens of commercialization do not outweigh its benefits. It opened the doorway for businesses, employment and a thriving tourism industry, and it also made island living for expats immensely convenient.

Aboard the small boat that would take me back to the airport in Caticlan, I looked on longingly for a final glimpse. Watching the island of Boracay get smaller and smaller as we drifted further away from it, I made a vow to return as soon as chance permits. The same vow, no doubt, made by many other tourists that went before me as they bid adieu to a most lasting vision of earthly paradise. Nowhere else can one so instantly overdose on breathtaking gorgeousness. And those who once having drank of such beauty never forget its taste.

Nothern Exposure

Driving along the easy highway also serves as a tour of the glorious Sierra Madre and Cordillera Mountain Ranges, ancient rice terraces, lush mountains half-covered with clouds and a smattering of historically significant sites along the way. A World War II memorial site that straddles the border of Nueva Ecija and Nueva Vizcaya is one example.





The rainy season promises stronger rapids and a more thrilling ride that I hope to try out. Maybe the next time around I’ll actually do some real paddling of my own.

Ave Crux, Spes Unica


A group of faithfuls headed by Ding Mercado and Chili Pefianco of Asiantraveller organizes a pilgrimage to Tarlac’s churches with the Monasterio de Tarlac as its focal point. I was privileged enough to join them for my first ever pilgrimage, and believe it or not, my first real trip to Tarlac that was more than just a stop-over. 


After breakfast, we headed to San Sebastian Cathedral in Tarlac City for a quick prayer, and to pick up our official tour guide, Fr. Alex Bautista. Fr. Bautista, a professor of Liturgical Art in the University of Santo Tomas, designed the interiors of most of the churches we were set to visit. His firsthand knowledge of these churches, expertise in religious iconography and interesting anecdotes kept the pilgrims absorbed throughout our journey.