It is a part of the Filipino culture to believe in superstitions. There are numerous superstitions of different categories that Filipinos, especially the elderly believe in.

The fear of death, misfortune, sickness, evil spirits, as well as the dream of a good life, luck, and health, are the common reasons for these beliefs. However, due to modernization there are only a few people left who are still considering these superstitions in every aspect of their lives. The new generation rarely believes in them nowadays. But some youngsters may be interrupted by their elders if they encounter something that is in accordance or in contradiction to these beliefs, just like me when I was young.

As a child, I grew up in an old house in Manila, capital city of Philippines. It was the ancestral home of our family, thus I was surrounded by old things and old people. It kind of felt like living in the past because I got used to listening and observing my grandparents, and along with other things, their strong belief in superstitions became a part of my daily life.

I can not say that I believe strongly in these things, but after hearing them my entire life, it became a part of my system unconsciously. When I was young, my grandmother always told me that I’ll grew up to be an adventurous person, because of my mole on the right foot. It didn’t make sense to me, and so I asked her why is that so. She told me that it is a “pamahiin” (superstition), different body markings may mean something about a person. My “lola” (grandmother) was right, or I think she was right, because there was not a single day that I didn’t stay in the same place in one day.

I always go out and have fun with my playmates when I was a kid, and now as an adult, I always travel and discover something new for myself. I encountered a lot of other superstitions because of this attitude. My grandfather would scold me if I leave the table before finishing my meal, especially when I am set out to travel that day. He would ask everybody eating in the dining room to turn the plates clockwise before allowing me to leave the table.

According to him, this practice will keep me safe during my travel. Before I leave the house my grandparents always reminded me of some other things. They told me that if I go out with my friends at night, there should be an even number in the group, if it is odd, one of us will be taken away by evil spirits in order to balance the number (maybe the evil spirits don’t like odd numbers? 666 even right?)

And if ever I happen to pass by a forest or some place with thick trees, I should rub garlic on my soles so that the animals will not harm me, aside from that I should not whistle while passing through the forest so that the evil spirits will not imitate me because if it does, one of my company will die.

It scared me, so as a kid, while on a camping trip in the forest, I remembered what my grandparents told me, and I shared it with my companions, who resorted to believe it as well. Until now, as an adult, even though I doubt these superstitions, I tend to practice it because I got used to them since I was young.

Sometimes in my travels, I end up eating in different places. Even in eating, my grandparents never failed to put some superstitions in my mind. They always reminded me that if I eat in a house of a stranger, I should only eat the food that is in the middle of my plate, because they believe that witches put curses at the edge of the plates.

I find this one a bit ridiculous compared to others though. I don’t think this one is true because of my love for food I always forget to follow this superstition, but nothing bad has ever really happened to me. Except for this one time that I knew I ate something bad and that wasn’t because of witches, but bacteria!

Even though there are superstitions that didn’t really result into something strange like the previous one I told you, there are some that really made me believe in them for a reason. When I was in high school, our class was supposed to have a field trip in Baguio, before I left the house, I tripped on a rug and fell on the floor. My grandmother tried to stop me from going on the trip, because she believed that something bad will happen.

Being a teenager at that time, I was hardheaded and did not listen to my grandmother. She couldn’t stop me. She allowed me to go but told me to sit on my bag during the trip, I asked her why, but she did not tell me the reason. Before leaving the house, my grandfather sneezed three times, and it made my grandmother worry some more, because it is another sign that I should not go on the trip. I got scared a bit because they are my grandparents and it is important for Filipinos to listen to the advice of the elderly.

I really wanted to go on the trip because I didn’t want to miss any part of my high school life.  In order to clear my conscience, I still went but decided to follow my grandmother’s advice and sit on my bag during the trip.  I knew I would look silly and I didn’t even know what it meant but I did it anyway. On our way to Baguio, our bus was stopped by an earthquake. I was so afraid and realized that my grandparents were right. Our trip was postponed because a destructive earthquake struck Baguio really bad.

When I got home, my grandmother told me that sitting on my bag saved me, because it will cause me not to get to my destination, and I realized that it was wise of my grandmother to counteract a superstition with another superstition. Whether it was a coincidence or not, it’s still kind of amazing that something like that happened to me.

Aside from these superstitions about travelling, there are still many others that I learned from my grandparents, and up until now, I always remember them in some situations. Even while travelling abroad, it can’t be denied that I am a Filipino because I still tend to practice these beliefs.

These are other beliefs that I heard from my grandparents. Do not travel in a red vehicle, because it is prone to accidents; when posing for a picture during a trip, do not pose in threes, because the one in the middle will die; and if a month starts on a Friday, do not travel on that month, because it will be full of accidents.

It’s up to you if you will take it, but remember that these are only superstitions and most of them have no concrete basis, always remember that God is in control of every situation, and we cannot rely on these superstitions to direct our lives. That’s why it’s called ‘superstition’ in the first place.

As I end this story, I want to leave you with a very important advice about travelling… Pray!

What’s more amazing is that, I had the privilege of visiting this humongous ship just a week ago since it has now docked in the warm shores of Cebu City, Philippines. It has been over 5 years since I last saw its sister-ship, the Doulos.

The World's Largest Floating Book Fair

Unfortunately, Doulos had already retired from sailing and was immediately replaced with a newer and bigger ship, and this is where I was headed for the afternoon.

Before boarding, you have to purchase your admission ticket. But no need to fret, entrance fee is very much affordable. When I got hold of the ticket, I tried my best to keep my toes calm, although deep inside I’m dying to run like crazy directly inside their bookstore. And as I near the entrance to the heart of the ship, I can feel and smell (yes, I can smell them) the books. Oh, how my eyes watered from seeing rows and rows of books of different genres, sizes, shapes, titles and colors. It was like heaven on earth for any bookworm (like me).

And for those of you who would like to see a glimpse of this floating book haven, you can catch them docking in the ports of Manila and Subic Bay in the next few months.

1:07 the water is still rising, neighbors were knocking on the gate of the house with the camera. As shown on the CCTV,  they were welcomed in.

The water was knee deep already. On the camera set outside more people are still evacuating, but most are in their houses, still sound asleep.  Others are just hoping that the flood will be gone after the rain ceases, but for a few more hours it never did.

1:10, caught on cam set outside is a house being washed away by the rushing water. The current is getting stronger and some destructive logs from the mountains are going with the flood.

1:20, a man was caught on cam floating along with the current with a floating device. 1:24, the water reached the cameras of the two story house, the camera was broken, and the video feed stopped.

In the morning news broke out about the flood on that community and other communities near the area, including a subdivision.  But from an aerial view, almost all parts of the city had been flooded. Thousands were dead, hundreds are missing, entire homes washed away. Whole family drowned in an instant, children were orphaned and parents were left looking for their missing children and other family members.  This is the horrible sight that the people of Iligan City experienced 7 days before Christmas.

Within 24 minutes families were torn apart, homes were destroyed, lives were taken, hearts were broken. On that day both rich and poor, Christian and Muslim felt the same agony and walked the same mud. Dead people with no names are on the streets filled with mud.

A sight that struck me the most when I went to the area the day after is a father crying while carrying his dead son, placing his son among other dead bodies lined up for identification and body count.

As a citizen of the city and as a nurse I did my part to rebuild and try to restore what can be rebuilt and restored and offered a prayer for those who suffered the devastating effects of that 24 dreaded minutes.

Riding the longest zipline in Asia

Suspended on 840 meters of wire at 4,500 above sea level,  with nothing to hang on to except dear life, I rediscovered how to pray and called on all the angels and saints, even ancient gods and goddesses of the Vikings! I wanted to back out, but before I knew it I was being strapped  and hung like washing, ready for launch in plank position on the longest zipline in Asia. What was I thinking? At 42 with 2 teen-age kids and my own company to run, insurance, future…none of those! I was thinking what if the bloody thing stops in the middle and I get stuck? That would be embarrassing, like the time I got stuck in one of those enclosed water slides, but that’s another story.

Everything happened so quickly but my life was flashing before me in slow motion as I waited to be released. This was our first stop in a  week-long Mindanao adventure which included scuba diving, trekking, firefly watching in mangrove forest, white water rafting and dolphin interaction. We took the first flight from Manila to Cagayan de Oro, got picked up from the airport at 7:30am, and traveled approximately 2 hours through towns and a huge pineapple plantation.

The zipline is located in Dahilayan Adventure Park in the province of Bukidnon and regarded as the longest zipline in Asia. We purposely didn’t have a big breakfast to avert the release of puke bombs while traversing the length of the zipline at 30-60 kilometers per hour.

Then I heard the countdown…3…2…1…and I was released! It was exhilarating! Okay, I must admit I screamed like a school girl when I was launched but this was soon replaced by howls of achievement as I gathered the testosterone, hoping my companions would forget how I sounded earlier.

Within 2 seconds of being propelled I felt like superman. I was flying and it felt so good! I could see my shadow from the ground below and I was reminded of how I wanted to become Peter Pan, those green tights are a delight to wear. I remembered a scene in a spy movie on how to influence speed and started to experiment on the principle. I spread my arms and I slowed down, I put my arms flat to my sides and I sped up, so it is true.

In less than 2 minutes I could see the landing, I spread my arms to slow down, not wanting the experience to end, the freedom, the excitement, the youth, but it was inevitable. The ride had to end but the experience and memory of the rush and what seemed to be eternal seconds of being transformed back 20 years in time of how simple it was, my super heroes, and episodes of my favorite spy movies will remain in my spirit forever.

Find your Zipline Adventure

goa at a snapshot by gniliep

If you are looking for a place to vacation, then you may want to consider taking your holidays to Goa. There are many different things and places to see while in Goa. With all of the history and beauty contained within this area, it is an amazing place to visit.

When you are in Goa and would like some time to lay around in the sun and relax, there are numerous beaches that you can go to. These beaches are great tourist attraction. The various beaches are lined with palm trees, coconut trees, and shacks if you would like to get a refreshment. Others are lined with hotels and restaurants. Staying within these hotels, would give you a wonderful view of the sea. The majority of the water along the beaches are swimmer friendly with life guards on duty.

If you enjoy being in and around the water, there are many water sports that you can enjoy in Goa. Windsurfing, water skiing, and parasailing are a couple of the popular water sports you can enjoy. If you are into doing some fishing, the Agonda Beach in Canacona is a great spot to catch some soormai, salmon, and mullet. Another additional water sport that is amazing in Goa is scuba diving. Due to the murky water, the visibility is limited, so it can be more difficult, but there is still plenty of marine life and hard coral to discover.

There are many other things that can be done other than hanging out at the beach or in the water. If you would like to do some sightseeing, there are many sights to see. Included in these are caves, waterfalls, and springs. The Arvalem Caves are an amazing sight to see. There are a couple of waterfalls to take a look at and those are the Arvalem Waterfalls and the Dudhsagar Waterfalls. Before going to view the Dudhsagar Waterfalls, you will need to ensure that you ask permission to go and see it. There are two springs within the area that is another great sight to see. The Kesarval Spring and the Pomburpa Spring are the springs to view. The water that comes from the springs are used for medicinal purposes and those that are ill will bath in the water in order to be healed.

If you are looking for some exciting entertainment, you can find that in Goa also. There is plenty of shopping to do. Whether you are looking for some beautiful hand crafted gifts, souvenirs, or even furniture, you can find it in one of the shops. There are also movie theaters, casinos and festivals for your enjoyment.

If you are looking to get around in Goa but are not sure how you would be able to, there are different forms of transportation for you to use. Taxis are the main form of transportation for tourists. You can also use a motorcycle taxi or even rent a motorcycle if you would prefer to drive yourself around. You could also get a ride on a ferry to cross over areas where a bridge has not yet been built.

Before you decide to take the trip to Goa you may be wondering what are the people like. You wouldn’t want to make the trip there just to find out that the natives are not friendly. Rest assured that this is not the case. The people of Goa are extremely friendly and laid back. There is a wide variety of people and cultures which has helped in giving them their laid back attitude.

When you are looking for a vacation spot, Goa is a great place to check into and visit. You will have a wonderful time no matter what your interests happen to be.

As the Whitney Houston song goes…

“I believe the children are our future

Teach them well and let them lead the way

Show them all the beauty they possess inside

Give them a sense of pride to make it easier

Let the children’s laughter remind us how we used to be”

Ever since the trip to India, whenever I hear this song my mind is full of those faces of children and their smiles that seemed to fill the air with the simplest happiness.

Knowing some Indian friends personally, I could never have had imagined the India I saw last year when I visited the country for the first time. What caught me was not whether those people were wealthy or poor; polite or rude; educated or not; not any of those judegements, but their smiles that made my heart warm.

I am lucky enough to have grown up in such a prosperous (and materialistic) city, but sorry to see how many of our new generations are so badly spoilt not only by their very own parents, but also our society that is swept by the Apple gadgets. In the India I saw, children were put into different “occupations”. Some of them busy making money by all sorts of means; some of them taking care of a younger child while they themselves were just a bit older than toddlers; some of them eagerly hoping to take photos with tourists so they could get some money in return; but there were a few kids in particular who are still deep in my memory.

I was on a coach after visiting this place in Jaipur. Next to me was another coach with so many students in there, all looking at my coach like they were so curious to know how these “aliens” looked. I caught sight of them, and they noticed that I was looking at them. Many of them started waving to me, smiling, asking if they could take a picture of me. They were so excited, I was getting a bit shy but that made me smile. So after a few minutes of waving and excited smiles, I finally agreed to let them take a picture of me, but that was not the end. They remained very interested and kept saying “hello” to me, until finally one of our coaches began to move away.

Maybe that was a short and brief moment, but that went quite deeply into my memory. Throughout the trip I saw it a few times that their children would get really excited to see foreigners; some would even ask for a photograph (not for money this time). Quite often they would look quite happy and wear a big smile after taking such a photo, as if they had just taken a picture with some Hollywood star. That’s the way it was there. I cannot describe in words how I felt that moment when I saw that joyful smile of the boy on the next coach, all I can say is, he looked so sweet and happy.

And if you’re wondering how that lovely kid looks, there…him from his window.

As the song goes again…“let the children’s laughter remind us how we used to be”.

Check out Janice’s travel blog Wide World, Little Places or follow her on Facebook
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This wasn’t all China’s fault. I didn’t do my research and went at a peak time for domestic travel. Fatigue was also contributing to my state of dissatisfaction. I tried to see too much in too short a time; catching 16 hour train rides and all night buses for several days in a row. At the risk of stating the obvious, China can overwhelm you; there is just too much of it for one trip.

Chengdu, the capital of Sichuan Province, is famous for panda bears and hotpot, but I had other reasons for the visit. From Chengdu, I was going to travel to Tibet and then on to Nepal. I wanted to see Lhasa, of course, and also get out into the mountainous country side, and maybe even to the Everest base camp. I was going to the top of the world. My goal was shot down almost immediately.

“No, no, no, right now is impossible, impossible.” a young lady informed me.

Tibet was closed off to tourists due to recent protests and a heavy crackdown from Beijing. That sealed it for me.

“I’m done with China, just book me a ticket to Thailand. I’ve got to get out here.”

“Hey, did I hear you say you wanted to go to Tibet?” a voice said from a nearby table. “I think I have a good alternative.”

The voice belonged to a Fin named Mikko. It was an interesting voice, a fantastically unique accent in English—like someone smashed a Norwegian and a Russian together, stuffed them into Dolph Lundren’s little brother.

I quickly noticed a few oddities about my new acquaintance. First, he was a walking encyclopedia on all things Chinese—from History to Geography, he was prepared to dish out information about a place, at any time, whether you asked for it or not.

“Did you know that when the Mongols invaded this area, they killed over a million people?” he would say, which is interesting, if I weren’t in such a crab of mood about the whole country.

He also had an incredibly deep knowledge of idioms in English. Hearing him explain the origins of Tibetan Buddhism or the Analects of Confucius was interesting, but hearing Ivan Drago say “the squeaky wheel gets the grease” was rather peculiar.

Mikko needed one other person to book the trek, and so he explained the options. We could book a horse trek up to Ice mountain. The mountain was (and still is) in the same chain as the Himalayas, and the trek would be led by Tibetan guides. It was Mikko’s feeling that we could get a better experience of Tibetan culture this way, since, at the moment, Tibet was impossible to get to.

“I don’t know. It sounds good, but I’m looking to head out of here. How many days would it be?”

“Oh, it varies, from 2 days to 2 months.”

“Have you ever ridden a horse?” I asked.

“No, well, once when I was 7. Let’s do 8 days.”

I wasn’t sure what I thought of the old boy just yet. He was big enough to be intimidating, so I listened to what he had to say, but I knew if we were on a trek up in the mountains I couldn’t just accidentally lose him in a crowd. However, Mark Twain once wrote, “there ain’t no surer way to find out whether you like people or hate them than to travel with them.” So I went for a compromise.

“You haven’t been on a horse in over 20 years, and you want to be on one for eight straight days? Come on, let’s do four, and see how that goes.”

He agreed, so we signed up and paid the money.

We caught the bus at 6am the next morning. The ride, we were told, would take between 8 and 10 hours. I had stayed up nearly the whole night, with the hope of being unconscious for most of that time—any way to avoid a history lesson from little Dolph. The driver, as it turns out, had other plans.

We were up early, first in line, and were sat right in the first row, over looking the driver and the gigantic windows.

“Ah, this is great. Perfect seats,” Mikko said, “the early bird gets the worm, aye?”

I propped my feet up and prepared for a snooze.

Sleep hadn’t completely taken hold when we pulled up to the traffic light outside the city. When the light turned green, the driver morphed into a Rally car driver; handling the bus up and down mountain roads, passing slower vehicles, and around livestock traffic jams with the skill of a champion racer.

When your holding on for dear life, conversation is limited, but we managed a few utterances.

“I’ve got to get out of this country, I said, I think it’s killing me!”

“Oh, no , You should stay a while, I’m heading down to Yunnan, it’s…”

“OH S—, watch out for that YAK.”

The passengers held on to anything stable, while the driver turned and gassed and braked—all while simultaneously downing pints of green tea and chain smoking Chinese cigarettes. The bus ride was said to take between 8 and 10 hours—we made it in 7 hours and 7 minutes.

I got off the bus in Songpan, dazed, and looking for the nearest place to pass out. Mikko jumped off the bus, gave the driver a high five, and came my way.

“Let’s go check this town out!”

“What about our stuff?”

“Oh, let’s just carry it, it’ll be fine, it’s not a big town.”

And he was right. Songpan isn’t a big town, but it is a bustling one. The streets are filled with motorbikes, carts, cars, horses, and tour buses. Souvenir shops, cafes, and trekking companies line the main-street all the way down to the ancient city walls, where a nice new Statue sits.

“So, Songpan was founded around 618 AD by the Tang dynasty, and rebuilt by the Ming dynasty and used as a military outpost.” Mikko started.

“That doesn’t mean much to me, I don’t know any of the dynasties.”

“Oh, right, right, well, the Tang dynasty is…and the Ming, well, you’ve been to Beijing, they commissioned the Forbidden City. That statue is of a Tibetan King and his Chinese Wife, I guess it’s supposed to represent the bond between Tibet and China ”

That didn’t clear much up for me at the time, but I did appreciate the effort. And I found that last bit interesting, considering the bond between Tibet and China is the reason I ended up in Songpan in the first place.

Mikko went on and on like that until we’d covered the town, and he’d had enough. “Let’s hit the hay.” he finally said.

“You got it man, I’ve been ready for that since 6 am.”

We stayed at one of the nearby Hotels, and woke early the next morning. We met up with our group around 6:30. It was a good mix of people; China, Japan, Australia, France, Canada, Germany, America, and, of course, Finland were all represented.

We packed up the horses, headed out of town, and up the mountain path. The trail was steep and the ride not terribly comfortable. The saddle and stirrups were not for handling those above five feet. A few griped, but all continued onward.

The first hour was spent getting away from the Town, and was not very scenic. After that hour the land opened up to mountains in all directions.

“This reminds me of Montana.” Mikko said.

“What? You’ve been to Montana?”

“No, ha, just pulling your leg, but I did see it in a movie, and this is what it looked like.”

“Fair enough.”

As we continued, the path continued—steeper, wetter, and rockier. And although I wasn’t at ease on the tiny horse, I was impressed with it’s stamina. That feeling was short lived.

We came up on a shallow creek and all started across, with the exception of Mikko’s horse. This horse decided a bath would a better choice. It circled around an open area in the creek, like a dog trying to get comfortable in its bed—and then laid out full body in the water, with Mikko still on-board.

Mikko went headlong into the water, and came up grinning. He was laughing, he loved it.

“Oh, whoa, that’s cold. What’s that one about beating the dead horse?”

“I don’t know if that one fits here, but take it.”

For a serious looking person, this Mikko was sort of entertaining. The trip was starting to turn around, and for the first time in two weeks I was beginning to enjoy myself.

The trek went on, with a slightly soggy Mikko, for another 3 hours. On the way we passed the sun worn faces of Tibetan farmers, working their Yaks through creek beds and up the mountain trail. We passed colorful prayer flags, that were strung along the ridge, and stones, called Mani Stones, with Tibetan mantras inscribed on them.

Around 5pm we came up to an open field, surrounded by steep hills, and divided in two by a shallow stream—one side was to be our base camp. A villager had set up a small wagon with goods for sale on the other.

The guides set about setting up, and several of the travelers explored the surrounding hills. Mikko and I tried to help set up camp. Steve, one of the Americans, and one guide set off for the wagon. They returned with all the beer the villager had to offer…and a goat.

“Alright, the beer’s on me, but everybody throw in 100 yuan for this goat.” he said.

This was my first transaction involving any type of livestock, so 100 yuan sounded reasonable.

”What’ll we call it?” some asked.

“Oy dunno, Whatcha reckon we call it ‘Wanfan.’” Australian George responded.

“Great, what’s that mean?”

“Dinner!”

We drank the beer and watched, some what amazed, as the guides slaughtered, skinned, and skewered the goat–all in about 20 minutes, and then roasted the thing over a fire.

The meat cooked for an hour or so. They covered it with salt and spices, cut squares into the sides, and we ate the freshest and finest goat meat I’ve ever had. Actually, come to think of it, that is the only goat meat I’ve ever had.

The next morning we awoke to the sound of screams and laughter. We popped out of our canvas shelter to find our guide yelping and hooting and chasing our horses all around the open field. “Looks like the horses are on the loose.” Mikko uttered.

Apparently tying the horses up at the end of the day was left off of his to-do list. The rest of the guides were sitting by the fire, drinking tea and laughing at our young friends foul up.

By the time he had found all his horses, we had eaten and were ready to ride out. We took a dusty country road, through small villages with stone shingled rooftops until we reached the mountain trail that would take us all the way to the base of Ice Mountain.

Ice Mountain, was bit anti-climactic. It wasn’t bad, but, because of our late start, the clouds had rolled in and visibility was limited. At that height, movement can become stagger. Only professionals and the hard core mountain climber could continue on. We hung around a while, taking pictures, and headed back to camp.

That night, we ate a less spectacular meal of stewed cabbage and mutton. The sky had cleared and the stars were bright. It was strange to be in a group of so many, with so many different experiences to share, only to stay completely silent staring out at the sky. No one even touched a beer.

When the sun came up the next day we packed up and prepared for one more grueling day on the horses. I was feeling fatigued from the altitude, sore from from the ride, and not really dying for another full day of trekking.

“OK, We go back to Songpan,” one of the guides announced. “What’s that?” Mikko exclaimed. “We paid for a 4 day trek.”

I kept my mouth shut.

The guides hadn’t counted on this. They looked confused. So, they huddled, discussed, and came back with a solution. Our rookie horse guide would guide us the rest of the time, alone, all the way to his house.

We parted ways with rest, exchanged contact info, and headed to the house. We pulled into his place. It was like a compact farm, complete with crops, a stable, goats, and a dog. The guide’s wife greeted us with stare of confusion, that quickly faded into a welcoming smile. Their rosy cheeked child just stared.

The guide showed us to the common area, which was underground and cool, a relief from the hot sun. We drank tea and relaxed as he went out to unpack the horses.

It was not long after the guide stepped out that we were visited by the younger brother and his friend. They were coming back from the temple and dressed in the robes of young monks.

We attempted to communicate using English and Mandarin as best we could manage. The Tibetan is as indistinguishable to Mandarin Chinese as French is to Romanian, but with the help of hand gestures and facial expressions, we got by fine.

They explained that our guide, despite having a house, a wife, a son, several horses, a small farm, and the forearms of an arm-wrestler, had only just turned 22 years old. His wife was 23 and the baby 2. And that he and the other brothers had built the house—on their own.

He came back after 30 minutes and showed us the area. He took us to a small road-side temple, and on to a small cave. Pray cards littered the cave floor. We climbed down until we arrived at tiny crack in the wall.

After some communicative effort, we came to the understanding that we could continue on this path, underground, all the way down into the valley and back up the other side of the neighboring mountain, in less than a day…if we weren’t so fat.

We went back to the house and explored the rest of it. It was a rather spacious house. There were several stories. The rooms were simple and devoid of anything from IKEA, Mikko noted. Mikko took this time to explaining more Chinese history.

“China’s claim on Tibet goes back to the Yuan Dynasty…”

“That doesn’t tell me anything, I’ve never heard of it.”

“Sure, you have. It’s the Mongolian Empire…you know Genghis Khan.”

“No kidding? That’s strange, isn’t it? Claiming land conquered by a foreign invader?”

“Not strange to Chinese. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and so is History, I guess.”

Dinner was animal fat, green beans, and several pints of yak butter tea, which I learned was a sort of delicacy. After dinner, we were led up a few flights of wooden stairs to the attic. Before he opened the door, he turned and winked like we were about to be in on the secret. It was a pray room. A picture of the Dali Lama dominating the area. The room smelled of incense and had an orange glow to it.

“Do you know who that is?” mikko asked.

“That’s the Dali Lama,” answering himself.

“You don’t say.”

“He is the leader of Tibet, but since the 50s he’s been living in India. China views him as a separatist, like a revolutionary.”

“Like Mao?”

“No, definitely not, if you put Mao’s picture up your house wouldn’t get raided by the police.”

“So it’s illegal to have his picture up like this?”

“Yeah, I think it’s fine out here because we’re in the middle of nowhere, but it could be bad news closer to Lhasa. That’s just what I’ve heard.”

We sat in the room a while, just sort of soaking in the experience. But the hour was getting late, so our guide showed us to a room where his wife had made pallets for us to sleep.

That morning, we loaded up and headed back to Songpan. The ride was short, and the goodbyes to the guide brief, but I had a great feeling of contentment. My trip that had started so hectic, had led to a fine horse trek and impromptu home-stay; complete with a constant stream of cultural information from an eccentric travel partner.

There were two buses leaving Songpan—an eight hour hell ride back to Chengdu or a 24 hour bus down to Yunnan.

“So, what’s your plan? Still heading to Thailand?” Mikko asked

“Eventually, but you never finished telling me about Yunnan.”

“That’s right. Did you know that Yunnan is China’s most biologically diverse province…”

“Nope, but tell me all about it. We’ve got a long ride ahead of us.”

Sandy bay enclosed on three sides by sheer limestone cliffs. In the Andaman sea, Krabi province, Thailand -photo by Tom Marshall

The wall of rock in front of me seems to be moving.  How can this be? I swim closer and realize that I am not hallucinating from nitrogen narcosis. The movement is real, but it is not the rock.  It is a million tiny, navy blue fish which live on its surface.

I feel myself begin to float upward.  Slowly, I let the air out of my lungs.  Then when I am sure that they’re empty, I let out some more.  The ascending stops and I sink back down.  The amplified sound of my breath provides rhythm to my movements. I revel in the sensation of weightlessness. My plan to take advantage of Thailand’s fabulous diving opportunities is off to a good start.

I was a child when I first fell in love with the ocean.  It was 1977, our family’s second trip to Hawaii. We had made our first trip the year before because my father had won a sales contest.  We made the next trip because the first one was so great. Between times, my parents, brother and I all took classes to learn snorkeling and skin-diving.

Fish by janineomg

I remember seeing the colorful pictures in the book “Fishes of Hawaii” and thinking, “Yeah, but I’m not really going to see things like that.”  Eight years old and I already had a sense of cynicism, already knew that the reality would not live up to the advertisement.

Then I put my face in the water and discovered how wonderful it is to be wrong!

Wanting to see more of that marine wonderland was the motivation for learning to dive.  The ocean is truly another world (not to mention 70% of this one!).  It is a landscape shaped more by animals than plants.  They come in a myriad of colors- gold, turquoise, emerald and pink-  so bright that they would make neon jealous.

To my surprise, I’ve found the process of learning to dive to be rewarding in itself.  I like the skills it makes me cultivate. Diving is like yoga- it requires bringing awareness to body and breath. You have to resist the urge to flap your hands around. You use the amount of air you are holding in your lungs like the buttons on an elevator to go up or down, but it takes a few moments for the changes to take effect so you have to be patient.  Diving is willfully slowing down.

My advanced diving course was held at a place called Black Tip Resort on the island of Koh Tao in the Gulf of Thailand.  I had chosen this place because it was a bit isolated and promised a tranquil environment far from the sex and drugs for which tourism in Thailand is also famous.  The resort was named for black tipped sharks which I saw none of in spite of going on six dives.  Now I had come to the town of Krabi on the other side of the Malay peninsula to check things out in the Andaman sea.  I chose Krabi rather than better-known town of Phuket because I thought it might be cheaper. Diving is, after all, a splurge.  Hotels and meals in Krabi were affordable and I especially enjoyed the night market with its cheap eats.

I went diving on December 26^th. Thailand being a primarily Buddhist country, the day before had been uneventful, but today’s date was notable- exactly three years after the devastating tsunami had destroyed so many lives here. Today things were quiet.

“I want to see a shark,” I told the dive master, as if I could just order up what I wanted the ocean to deliver.  “I’ll see what I can do,” he said agreeably, then went on to explain that the place we were going to sometimes had leopard sharks and that if we were to see one, we should sit down on the bottom because they will leave if they see people swimming above them.

Leopard Shark - By prilfish

A giant step off the back of the boat and I was descending through the warm, clear water.  Immediately, as if wanting nothing more than to grant my wish, a leopard shark appeared in front of me.  Leopard sharks are four to five feet long, harmless to humans and beautiful with spotted skin that earns them their name. I tucked my fins behind me so as to not stir up any dust and sank down, kneeling on the sandy bottom.  The ever-so-accommodating shark came and sat in the sand right in front of me. I’m surprised my regulator didn’t fall out of my mouth from the grin on my face. It was thrilling.

My shark.

It wasn’t so different from that first time I went snorkeling as a eight-year-old.  Once again I was surprised and delighted.  Once again the ocean delivered more than I dared to expect.

Arriving in the city, I was welcomed by the Barakatan festivities – a showdown of Palawan’s diverse culture and sumptuous delicacies. I arrived late in the afternoon so I decided to do a city tour instead. I didn’t want to waste a single minute so we rented a motorbike, grabbed a map and navigated our way around the city. We stopped by the Cathedral, Baker’s Hill, Mitra Ranch, Iwahig Penal Colony and the Iwahig River where we did firefly watching and stargazing.

The Historical Plaza Cuartel of WWII

Plaza Cuartel Gate

Mitra Ranch Zipline

We woke up early the next day and travelled to Sabang beach where you can swim, snorkel and do the mangrove river paddle tour. After our buffet lunch, we relaxed by the beach and enjoyed the beautiful scenery as we wait for our turn to ride the boat going to the cave entrance.

Sabang beach

picture perfect

The 15-minute boat ride was a feast for the eyes where one will see the Puerto Princesa Subterranean River National Park’s amazing limestone mountain landscape. The park boasts of the richest tree flora in Asia and eight of thirteen forest formations. We also followed the monkey trail where we made friends with monitor lizards and long-tailed macaques.

the 15-minute boat ride offers magnificent views of nearby islands

amazing limestone formations - perfect for rock climbing

getting friendly with one of the resident monitor lizards

After another 30 minutes, it was finally our turn to enter the Palawan underground river aboard a paddle boat. Words nor pictures aren’t enough to describe the surreal feeling one will experience upon entering the cave. It was like being in another planet. The river stretches eight kilometres where stalagmite and stalactite formations as well as huge domed amphitheatres will surely enchant you at every turn. And though we didn’t have the chance to explore the cave barefoot, the visual adventure was more than enough compensation.

the cave opening

bats hanging from the cave ceiling

this is just one of the rock formations you will see inside the Palawan underground river

I only stayed for three days so I had to pass for the other activities such as jungle treks, rugged climbs (Mt. Cleopatra at 1593 km was really tempting) and waterfall and river journeys.

Please vote for the new 7 Wonders of the World here.

“Let’s go to Sagada!” I told my friends.

Sagada is a 12-hour drive from Manila, the capital of the Philippines. It is famous for its picturesque view of mountains and rice terraces as well as the Sagadians’ burial customs.

Good thing my friend JB and his friends were as crazy as me. We boarded the bus to Sagada the next day.

We were on the road for six hours – I, covered in a knitted scarf and wearing two shirts, one jacket and two pants, slept all throughout. I would occasionally wake up when it gets too bumpy and to my horror, with a view of the narrow path overlooking cliffs. Mind you, there are numerous accidents reported in the winding Benguet road.

Arriving in Sagada at 9 degrees was a delight. We arrived in time for the town fiesta and went straight to Kanip-aw Lodge where our guide Kuya Oscar was waiting for us. After having a snack at the Lemon Pie House, we headed to the caves.

Lemon Pie House boasts of a cozy interior, board games and yummy lemon tarts

I initially thought Sagada was the place to go if you’re feeling emo and just want to go to Pluto. And although, stepping into the caves did feel like I’m an alien on another planet, it left me no time to gripe since I was so busy catching my breath as I climbed with ropes and used my ass to go down on rocks. The Lumiang-Sumaguing cave connection lasted for four hours (with a lot of whining). At some point, we had to step on our guides – Kuya Oscar and Kuya Andrew’s arms/legs/shoulders in order to cross hurdles.

The residents of Lumiang Cave and their scattered bones

my favorite rock formation - the choco mocha cake

The scariest part for me – a crosshook!

Get ready to get wet!

We were exhausted and shivering from the cold, we slept right away after having our sumptuous dinner. The next day was another adventure for us – we woke up early to welcome the sunrise and did a dayhike to see the magnificent Bomok-od Falls. It was a pleasant trek along rice paddies and a lovely view of the mountainside.

the magnificent Bomok-od Falls

Next stop was Echo valley where you can see rock formations and hanging coffins. Sagadians believe that the higher a body is laid, the closer it gets to heaven. Be wary alongside the cliff though or you might just go to heaven unexpectedly.

A rockclimber’s dream indeed - spot the hanging coffins

grip tightly… i dont wanna fall!

We made a bonfire that night as our feet felt like frozen meat already. For our dinner, Kuya Andrew and Lani cooked Etag (smoked pork/Igorot ham) and Pinikpikan, a Sagada signature dish wherein a chicken is beaten and bled to death. They believe that the chicken’s blood will improve the flavour of the soup. Good thing, there was no PETA member around.

Although I’m a beach person who likes to wear swimsuits and pose in front of the camera, my trip to Sagada is one of my favorites so far. It was more than an adventure – it’s an intellectual journey. Sagadians have a strong community and they are very in the loop of current events. You can talk to most people and have a decent conversation – one thing you can’t do in Manila. I initially went there to wallow in self-pity but I went home with a stronger spirit. It truly is an adventure and I’m definitely going back.

My backpacker trip was relatively cheap. I spent only around Php2500 or USD59 for a 3-day/2-night accommodation, fare, tour guide fee, and 3 meals/day.

PS. Check this link if you are looking for Sagada tour guides and lodging:http://sagadagenuineguides.blogspot.com/