PINOYAPACHE GOES TO NAVOTAS

AFTER TWO DAYS IN BENGUET and another four days in Zambales, I settled my tired soul in Navotas City in the early hours of March 17, 2017. It is good to be back in the abode of Jay Z and Carla Jorge. The superb couple hosted me last year but, this time, they have something which would make my stay memorable. That would be later in the evening. In the meantime, I need to change into something comfortable and catch a lot of Zs.

Navotas City is famous for its fleet of fishing boats; its fish port and fish market which is a source of fresh bounties from the sea for the whole Greater Manila Area; its indigenous delicacies of puto taktak and horse jerky; its stainless-steel ornately-designed three-wheeled bicycles which ply the narrow streets to service commuters; and its lone amphibian rescue vehicle.

Due to uncontrolled extraction of underground fresh water in Metro Manila, subsidence of lands nearby coasts sagged by many centimeters, allowing high tide and heavy rain to flood the streets of coastal towns and villages of which Navotas is located. Navotas is a sliver of land, broken in three, bounded between Manila Bay and the mighty rivers of the Navotas and the Tullahan. Be prepared for high incidence of floods when visiting though.

There is one main artery – M. Naval Street – and it plies all the way to the coasts. On another side is where the fishport complex is located. You would be passing by city hall, the city hospital, the San Ildefonso Parish, the San Jose de Navotas Parish, the San Roque Parish, department stores, banks, fastfood joints, narrow secondary streets choked with bicycle taxis and more than a dozen shipyards. Another road artery – Gov. A. Pascual Street – channels all vehicles exiting the tiny city to C4. Navotas is home, nevertheless, to many commercial establishments that serve the residents.

Unknown to many, Navotas hosts a hidden gem called PACING’S HOUSE OF BARBECUE. It is a small family-run restaurant which is unique for its nontraditional concept and taste and, at the same time, very enticing for its affordability in spite of the princely depth of how the food is presented and prepared. Located on Judge A. Roldan Street, it is just a walk of a few meters when alighting from Naval Street.

Unfortunately for car owners, there is no parking area. The narrow street is occupied by bicycle taxis. It is a small place consisting of six tables inside and an extra two tables that may be added outside when the demands of dining customers is great. It is managed by the couple Jay Z and Carla and they have a full-time staff of three. The kitchen and the order counter are located in one room with wide windows.

On the farthest corner is an aquarium and a soda chiller. As décor of the main wall, there is a flat TV, a guitar, framed art pieces, a vinyl LP disc of Best Pinoy Folk Songs and an oil painting by Rigor Esguerra. Across it, above the counter, is an old school blackboard where the day’s menu is written in chalk. Just off to the back are two mountaineering backpacks. The light-colored bag once belonged to Leo Oracion, the first Filipino to scale Mount Everest in May 2006. The dark one belongs to Jay Z.

Jay Z is an entrepreneur and this is his first venture. What he had experienced in the food business were learned from his late grandmother, Lola Pacing, and that is why the restaurant is named after her. He is a passionate mountaineer, outdoors educator, prepper and responsible gun owner. His wife, Carla, teaches in a public secondary school and is acquiring units to gain a masteral degree in a different field of laboratory research. She is also into prepping and is into improving her skill with a firearm.

Evening came and I was feted to dinner at PACING’S HOUSE OF BABECUE. Dish served were pork barbecue, crispy sisig, spicy tofu and longanisa. The pork barbecue is a winner and I had never tasted anything like it. Jay Z has his secret formula which he got from Lola Pacing. The crispy sisig is another dish that you should develop a taste of. These two are the favorites of their patrons.

The spicy tofu and their plump and spicy sweet longanisa just made my dining princely. As if that was not enough, a pint of Arce Dairy Ice Cream is pushed my way across the table. The creamy texture of the ice cream just won me over and I would bring the empty can when I go back to Cebu as my “war booty”. Jay Z and Carla just filled me up and I could hardly move.

They have not forgotten that I just had a rough week spent outdoors and travel and they have not forgotten either that I will be visiting the outdoors again for the next two days. Yes, I will be at Antipolo City early tomorrow morning to be with the training staff of CLIMBER as they opened the eighteenth batch of their Basic Mountaineering Course.

Document done LibreOffice 5.3 Writer

A JOURNAL OF AN UNFINISHED JOB

I AM OFF AGAIN for Manila. Prepared hard myself to have a “conscious” sleep so I wouldn't oversleep, of course, and miss my 5:00 AM flight. It had been raining for the past six days and I don't see any reason this weather would slack for a day or two and that makes me somewhat worried in the back of my mind. One thing that assures me though is when it is raining in Manila it is hot in Cebu and when it is hot in Manila it rains in Cebu!

Leave my home at 2:30 AM for the Mactan-Cebu International Airport on January 27, 2011 under a steady drizzle and I don my windbreaker because it is cold. The taxi take me there in less than an hour and I have a lot of time. Now my eyes badly need a shutdown as I sit inside the airport terminal doing nothing and just waiting for the gate to open.

A half-hour before departure, I follow a long queue of passengers and boarded a Philippine Air Lines Airbus A330 connected to a boarding tube. I squeeze myself on a cold seat nearest the starboard window and I imagine closing my eyes. I got jolted to reality when the steel bird got airborne.

Outside it is dark and I got lost in my thoughts and hum myself of some forgotten tune until another jolt from thermals beneath make my neck crane to a twilight horizon. Oh, it's a start of another day of work. I hate myself thinking about it. I'd rather have this plane take a quick U-turn to Cebu and forget about the stress I'm about to face later and the following days thereafter.

Take a taxi to Paco and the driver charge me four-fifty pesos and what a way to begin the day! Ninoy Aquino International Airport to Paco is less than ten kilometers and I am made to pay for an amount that is congruent to a 20-kilometer distance and I can't even see the stinking taximeter! No time to argue. Don't need a headache at this early time.

I will go to Camp Crame later in the day to answer an errand but, first, I gotta settle down to find a place to sleep during night. My itinerary demand two days and one night at the least. My best option would be to become a freeboarder under the benevolence of my wife's relatives just as I have done the previous trip in June 2009. Anyways, I get a welcome reception and eat a quick but hearty breakfast.

First thing to do is to retrace my usual route. Up ahead I espy the UN Avenue station and waited for my train to arrive that would take me to EDSA. As it came, it swallowed what few people loitering nearby, including myself, into its still-spacious vowel until the LRT became the MRT at its EDSA terminus and, this time, a mass of people converge going north and south.

I drop by the Santolan station and walk the few steps to Camp Crame, the home of the Philippine National Police, and automatically my object of attention is the Firearms and Explosives Division. Some new firearm purchases need to be processed and licensed and for a whole day I become an on-the-job trainee as a fixer. The place is like a market and people are dealing and haggling on imaginary guns drawn in brochures and saliva-soaked words.

Later in the afternoon, my papers hit a snag after a breeze in the morning. The FED is reinventing itself and is streamlining its system in accord with ISO 9001:2008 certification. Well and good. But I still see so many shady characters inside the building like vultures waiting for something to jump on. I shudder at this notion and got lost in translation as my Tagalog is quite inadequate to maintain a smooth conversation with Luzon natives.

Meanwhile, I burn Cebu with outgoing calls for some documents at that late hour that I need for tomorrow. Need it fast. I begin to sense my frailty at this moment and I feel a little old. I go back to my billeting place a little bit worried but, after a healthy all-vegetable dinner, the worries left. The Internet put some nails to that!

The second day (January 28) see me facing the same wall as yesterday as I find my way through the labyrinth of bureaucracy. The documents have not arrived in the morning and today is Friday. Meaning, no papers can be processed until Monday. Another thing. Since today is a Friday, all personnel are leaving the office early for the parade ground and the flag retreat. Shucks!

Definitely, today is not the day of my breakthrough. I sulk myself inside St. Joseph's Chapel and get on with a positive outlook. At the last hour, my documents from Cebu finally crossed over the electronic highway and that make my purpose worthwhile and for just a short while. My planned flight for today is out of the window and I have to make my last shot on Monday, I guess.

As I walk to the gate, I saw the most popular item inside the camp that is making a lot of attention long ago from media and Greenpeace. I am talking about the electric-powered public jitney ferrying people around the camp for free! Although, I am on the verge of defeat, seeing the electric car itself sends me a bolt of energy and joy. Taking pictures of the vehicle became my instant obsession.

On the way to the apartment in Paco, I buy a battery charger for my Motorola V3. I don't have one and I need one, especially now that the cellphone went dead. I pass by a small truck selling fresh vegetables and fruits and I mingle with old matrons and Manileñas haggling with the lone vendor and I bring food provisions good for several meals for my gracious hosts.

Saturday (January 29) is a day reserved as holy for Seventh-Day Adventists which, my hosts are. While they are away on worship service, I stay at the house and read a book about John F. Kennedy. I am supposed to be in Cebu today and join Camp Red in Mount Babag. Unfinished work make that impossible. I finish the book in the afternoon and start on another – The Man Who Swam the Amazon - by ultra-marathon swimmer Martin Strel.

Sunday (January 30) comes and I take a stroll after lunch. No, I don't go to a mall but I visit instead the Manila Adventist Medical Center. You see, I have something that I crave for which the Adventists only produce and sell. It is their cinnamon loaf bread. I buy three loaves plus two cans of glutein. Along the way, I also bring along another plastic bag of fresh vegetables. Finish the second book by nighttime.

In the morning of Monday (January 31), I book a plane ticket from Zest Air which has the only plane to leave Manila for Cebu at 7:00 PM. Then I go back to Camp Crame to continue my work. All my efforts went for naught as the slow bureaucratic process broke me an arm and I raise my other arm in surrender. I manage to leave the papers to someone whom I trust before exiting at 3:30 PM.

As I begin to leave, I became curious of a school of gobies frolicking in a small heavily-silted canal just across FED in Camp Crame. How they got there, beats the hell out of me. The canal is fed by clear water, probably from a leaking pipe and it is on a high ground. I could not imagine how a species of fresh-water fish could survive the extensive modernization and pollution of Metro Manila.

Anyway, I need to be on the road to NAIA before five else you get caught in its legendary traffic. Made my thanks to my generous hosts before saying adieu. My Habagat Viajero is heavy. Inside are four loaves of cinnamon bread that I am bringing for my family and for my officemates. They all love the bread, thanks to the SDA bakers.

I arrive at the domestic airport at 5:45 PM and promptly subject myself and my bag to xray machine and searches before joining a long line to a counter. Another security barrier is breezed through before I could seat on the passenger terminal. An announcement came on the speaker informing the Cebu flight delayed and reset to 9:30 PM. That's alright but I'm hungry.

I wolf a huge siopao¹ as I waited for my plane and, later, the gate opens to the tarmac. I sit near the portside window of the Airbus A319 and listen to the hum of the engines as the plane is hurriedly refuelled. Once it got airborne, it squeezed through a lot of air pockets shaking and rocking the fuselage and the engines roared as it levied for more elevation.

The sound of the machine is so disturbing and it quite alarmed me. Used to work on engines and I know a part is worn by the sound of it. I may be wrong and I hope I am. An hour later, the wheels touch the runway and it is not a pleasant landing. It is still raining in Cebu and too few taxis for so many passengers making a beeline. I gamble on a colorum² and I arrive safely home at around eleven. Cherokee, my youngest, is still up tinkering a lappy and his eyes brightened when I showed him the cinnamon bread.

Document done in OpenOffice 2.1 Writer

1Chinese bread stuffed with meat, chopped boiled eggs and other ingredients.

2An unregistered and unmarked automobile.

NIGHT TRIP FOR BANTAYAN ISLAND

I HAVE NEVER BEEN to Bantayan Island. But I'm going to change all that tomorrow, January 4, 2011. I will cross the Bantayan Channel come rain or shine. I leave Mandaue City at 9:50 PM. Eddie Alberca is with me and he will drive the Suzuki Every 220 for me. Our first destination would be Bogo and I'm sure the multicab will run like a rocket tonight.

“...rain or shine.”

I begin to ponder on the possibility of crossing to Bantayan when I pass by the seaside road approaching Mitsumi in Danao City. The crests of endless waves are bedecked with white foam and the seas are really really rough tonight. The cold front from the north brought forth icy winds and agonizingly-slow constant drizzle. It had been like that since New Year's Day and I was drenched to the toes, one time, when I climbed Mount Babag on January 2. Raining the whole day making trails slippery and soft and, yes, the cold wind.

Eddie made good work of the multicab running at 100 Kph as the Cebu North Road is almost abandoned. Blame that to the weather. Okay, we will sleep tonight at Bogo and I bring with me my sleeping bag and other little comforts inside my Habagat Viajero. I wear a windbreaker and tune the built-in MP3 of my Nokia 2700 to entertain us during our travel.

After an hour, we were now in Maca-as, Catmon, still a lot of dark kilometers of highway to cover. After a while, stars begin to appear in the moonless sky as the multicab fly by past hilly Eme, Sogod. They were so clear and the timing of the song “Underneath the Milky Way” by The Church playing on my MP3 is most appropriate.

At twenty minutes before midnight, we reach our billeting place in Bogo. We buy local brandy and mixed it with soda energy drink to celebrate an early arrival and sleep could come later. The first boat trip to Bantayan from Hagnaya Wharf in San Remigio is at 5:00 AM, so I set my alarm to 3:30 AM. It was the time when I lay for just a few seconds that my alarm screamed its existence. Shucks! I shut-off the alarm and resume my sleep when Eddie shook me later. 4:30 AM!

Eddie stepped on the gas for Hagnaya and I saw him holding back vomit and sweating cold. Poor Eddie! On the other hand, it serves him right. We arrive fifteen minutes later. At Hagnaya, we leave the 'cab on paid parking and slurped hot coffee. We fear that all boat trips would be cancelled by the Coast Guard as what happened to the 5:00 AM schedule adding us to an increasing number of dismayed passengers.

We persevered and we found ourselves sitting inside the upper cabin of M/V Island Ferry V and the small launch leave the mainland at 6:30 AM. After channeling through Hagnaya Bay, the boat got itself tossed and bounced on open sea. The boat shuddered five times hit by the huge waves and, once, empty air pass below keel. Eddie could not hold it any longer and disappeared aft and released his troubles to the sea. Meanwhile, I prepare myself for my own bouncy ordeal.

After an hour-and-a-half, the ferry settled on the wharf of Santa Fe and we rush out to look for transpo to Bantayan town. My whole body is in great quivers and carry a big-sized chunk of headache that I don't get to appreciate the first-time-visitor-scenes unfolding before me. I need a breakfast. Badly! We look something fishy and soupy and search for it in and around the public market and found one near the beach.

We opted for danggit¹ soup and linarang pagi² plus two servings each of milled corn. After that, my intestines got itself sorted right and I'm back to normal and carry out the business of why I am here. I pass by the edifice of the coral-stoned Saint Paul Catholic church and take two hurried shots. So, this is the only parish in the world that could celebrate fiesta on a Good Friday.

For just a little over two hours we are on our way again to Santa Fe and there are a lot of passengers queuing for a boat back to the mainland. The boat we rode in coming over here just left and we settled in a bigger M/V Super Shuttle Ferry 23. This one is much better and much roomier. I enjoyed the trip seating on my plastic bucket seat. The tossing subsided as the boat enter Hagnaya Bay and it is already 2:30 PM when it toss out the mooring lines.

We have to proceed to Bogo and, then, to Tabogon after Hagnaya and too little time left. Eddie and I decide to forget lunch for a while and hurriedly retrieve the multicab from its parking bay and speed to Bogo. We arrive at quarter to three and proceed with our work. It is already 3:30 PM when we leave Bogo for Tabogon taking a left turn where an ancient acacia stood. This particular road is the only stretch of Cebu that I have not been into, to include the town of Tabogon.

It is raining again and the multicab negotiate the asphalt highway fairly. It is a good road and it run in bends and loops and the scene remind me of rural areas I've seen in the early '80s. I begin to love this stretch especially at the part in Kal-anan. By 4:30 PM, we were already on the steps of our last stop and, after this, I could have that lunch. Maybe but where? Porquois pas?

As me and Eddie again take to the road, I notice a very long and high concrete fence under construction. This is in Tagnucan, Tabogon. I can't understand a single individual or family snaring the long strip of seashore for almost three kilometers just to themselves to the exclusion and detriment of the original residents and fishermen thus denying them access to the sea where they depend their livelihood on. What brazen display of GREED! And I just lost my appetite.

We pass by Borbon. I see many concrete fences here just like the ones I passed by in Tabogon. One prominent family even emblazoned their commercial emblem on the gate. I have no beef about all these fencing and securing properties. They could do that on mountaintops to give them more privacy just like Hitler did in Berchtesgaden. Why along the sea? To cavort and giggle on beaches while a thousand hungry stomachs misses a free opportunity of meal when they find their access to the sea barred? That's just isn't morally right, paesano.

At 6:00 PM I finally have my late late lunch in Bawo, Sogod. This time, I eat long green peppers, my favorite, which this commodity I found wanting during a very filling breakfast in Bantayan. After the meal, we go directly to Mandaue and arrive at 7:50 AM. I still feel the rocking of the boat in my system and those ugly fences are difficult to erase from my mind.

Document done in OpenOffice 2.1 Writer

1Rabbit fish.

2Tamarind-based soup of manta ray.

BADIAN FOOD SOJOURN

BADIAN IS SOMEWHERE yonder in the southwest coast of Cebu and I'm going there as part of a team of birthday well-wishers to serenade a scion of a prominent family in that town. Fortunately, I have a camera with me and have used this in almost all of the engagements for this event and, for the first time, I get to pass inside the tunnel built under the Plaza Independencia. Mark this on the calendar – July 27, 2010!

A 25-seater Hyundai County bus is hired to ferry the troupe from Mandaue City to Badian without the stops that commercial bus liners usually do. That means, we have to endure bloated bladders, maybe too meek to stop the airconditioned bus with the husband and daughter of the birthday celebrant around who, BTW, are our bosses. Okay, time to practice mind over matter...inhale...exhale...inh...

Anyways, by the time we arrive at Badian at six in the evening, a meal was already prepared for serving to our party. This consist of the famous Dumanjug native chicken, a pepper-flavored roasted pork, a very tender braised pork belly or humba with either rice or milled corn as your staple. Believe me, this supper is superb and is considered a meal fit for a prince! Oh, by the way, a shake of coconut meat, ka-ong¹ and pandan² is served as dessert.

After dinner, we transferred to Matutinao where we were billeted. We practiced our singing, fine-tuning it in its minutest detail. Since I know all the songs by heart, they made my voice as the prompt to pursue the gist of each song. There were three songs: Skyline Pigeon by Elton John, You've Got a Friend by James Taylor and Dancing Queen by ABBA. Our voices were off key and so is the guitar where you could barely hear the notes.

When the practice is done, the host offered us a bottle of Fundador Brandy. Fundador is best with just ice and I took pains in walking the one-kilometer distance from the private resort to the San Isidro Labrador Parish in Matutinao to look for ice, but without success. It is already nine o'clock in the evening and, in this part of Cebu, people close shop after the Angelus.

The highway is devoid of people and some stretches are dark. The resort caretaker, however, volunteered to look for that elusive ice and I returned to the resort empty-handed placing all my hopes to the guy. Anyway, everyone needed to wash away the food with something strong like brandy but swallowing the liquid in its pure state is unbearable. The driver could not resist the temptation though and serve himself one glass sans ice.

After waiting for about an eternity, the caretaker arrive with ten pieces of ice and the atmosphere of the place became alive. The girls slipped into their bathing suits and frolic in the swimming pool while a trio of guys after many shots of the brandy decide to catch fish on the shoreline with a scoop net and caught two very tiny fish.

Inspired by this success, they drag a parked small fishing boat to the sea and paddled about a hundred meters from shore. They drop the fish net and maneuver back and forth. Meanwhile, I just read a little bit of history with an old issue of a local newspaper and got drowsy until I could not resist anymore and tilt my whole body on the bench.

I awoke from the shaking hand of the driver because I am having fits of nightmare in my sleep. So I have. I saw it in my dream and tried my darnedest best to let go a scream but no voice came out until Mr. Driver rescued me. It is 2:00 AM. Damn, I'm hungry and I smell cooked fish somewhere near. So, the “fishermen” were successful in their fishing venture ha? I eat two of their freshly-caught dangguit³ fish and claim that one more hour of sleep afterwards.

We all leave at 3:30 AM back to the house of the birthday celebrant and silently tip toe ourselves close, just outside her bedroom. We were joined by her cousins and other well-wishers. Mañanita⁴ time. We sing just loud enough to rouse her and there she is, open door and all, disheveled hair, sleepy eyes and a smiling face. I think we sing better in the early morning when everybody is asleep, don't you think?

Her husband offered her a huge pandan-flavored cake which she gladly accepted plus the offering of ripe mangoes and bananas with flower arrangements. After the singing and the greetings, another beeline for an early morning meal. I took a slice of chocolate chiffon and stir myself a cup of coffee espresso. The chiffon is exceptionally baked and so different from the others that I have tasted before. This one is too good!

After an hour, we leave back to the resort and eat breakfast. It is good that we brought the rest of that very tender braised pork belly and now I can concentrate on just one viand. This is a specialty in the south and no one comes close to cooking humba the way they southerners do. You know what, I just kissed my diet program away yesterday and today.

The girls went back to the pool while the guys read the lines between the sandy shore and the sea. Of course there will be high tide but it will not be early. At the earliest, it would be at eleven, but that would be our ETD. In between now and our departure, I would rather sleep for one hour and take a dip maybe at ten. Sounds good. So I snore away the one hour.

The “fishermen” took another trip with the small craft this time with fishing lines and hooks and they get to catch a tiny bass and a small sunfish. I convince them to spare the wrasse from the cooking fire and they release it. At ten, I took a dip and ended it abruptly when I notice that the sea water all around is populated by tiny jellyfish that sting the skin upon contact.

Prepared my things and waited for departure. At exactly eleven, we leave the resort for the celebrant's house one last time and take our lunch. There were many guests and everyone took their fill. At 12:30 PM, we leave Badian for Mandaue City and arrive there at four. It is a good food trip for me and the rest of the “choir” and “fishermen”.

Document done in OpenOffice 2.1 Writer

1Arenga pinnatar, sugar palm.

2Pandanus amaryllifolius.

3Rabbit fish.

4Morning birthday song.

EARLY DINNER AT STEELY DANAO

VISITED MY OLD friends in Danao City on July 21, 2010. I call them Mr. Fine and Mr. Coarse. They are craftsmen skilled in the repair of small handguns and they are a father-and-son tandem. I used to go there once every 3 or 4 months to answer some of my friend's favor to have their pistol or revolver checked for flaws and to improve its features. But not anymore.

This time, I'm dropping by just to say hello and keep the lines open for good times sake. The place look the same but they have a very robust garden now and some ducks and a new member – Mr. Coarse's infant daughter. Mr. Fine's workshop is dusty as ever cluttered with tools, gun parts and other items, some of which are scrap but can be converted anytime into reusable spares. Trust that to Mr. Fine's ingenuity.

For those who don't know, Danao City is a gunrunner's paradise. It has nurtured and developed an underground gun-making industry. The availability of scrap steel in the 1930s have goaded the first gun-makers to make a crude, but workable, replica of a Colt caliber .38 revolver sans the rifling and engraving. Fast forward to the present, it has not only perfected the mechanisms and fine features of revolvers and pistols, but have metamorphosed into copying popular assault rifles and machine pistols as well – thanks to this so-called “transfer of technology”.

To curtail the proliferation of loose firearms, the authorities have given a license to manufacture firearms to a cooperative of gun-makers so they could legally produce revolvers and sell it to legitimate gun dealers. The Workers' League of Danao Multi-Purpose Cooperative (WORLD-MPC) were able to pursue their dream of having a legit source of income without having to worry about police raids by producing their own trade-marked revolver which are bought by security agencies nationwide.

However, loose home-made guns are very much available in the underground market and it is the reason why the number of crimes against persons and properties have continued to rise because of this anomaly. It had not been stopped by World War II, during martial law in 1972-81 and it cannot be stopped now as long as there are hungry stomachs to feed and there are people willing to part their money for that piece of steel.

People come and go into the place of Mr. Fine and Mr. Coarse bringing with them their merchandise – Black Widows, Colt 1911s, KG-9s, shotguns, revolvers – for fine-tuning and for sale. Mr. Fine and Mr. Coarse, both WORLD-MPC members, get a little commission for such transactions and so is everyone else. When I say everyone it means E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E. It is part and parcel of life here in Danao. I look over the guns and I just shake my head in disbelief of how far Danao gun-makers were able to close the gap with imported brands in gun technology.

Mrs. Fine arrive from the market and brought something to treat me: fresh parrot fish (suwa-ay) and fresh elvers (bakasi) for an early dinner. Mr. Coarse instantly coax an ember to life and place the three parrot fish over a grill while Mrs. Fine cook the elvers in thick soup of tamarind leaves and eba¹ fruit called linarang. While waiting, I share a half-gallon of fermented coconut wine, known as tuba, with Mr. Fine and we talked of the old wild days until dinner is served. What an excellent late afternoon!

Document done in OpenOffice 2.1 Writer

1Averrhoa bilimbi or camias.

ONE MORE TIME IN DUMAGUETE

IT'S JUST A cloudy early morning and I'm going today, July 14, 2010, for Dumaguete City which is crossable by a body of water. I have been worrying about the news of last night's about a typhoon Signal Number 3 (“Basyang”) hitting landfall in Luzon. So I dress up and hope for the best as I carried my backpack outside the street and hie a taxi bound for the South Bus Terminal.

I sit myself inside an unairconditioned Sunrays Bus nearest to the left window so I could analyze the weather better. The bus left the terminal at around five, half empty, and I wonder if it could arrive on the second boat trip to Negros Island which is scheduled at nine and I know they will be picking up and disembarking passengers along the way that would surely delay my schedule.

By the time the bus got to Argao, the sun rose gloriously and it is still 6:47 AM. Hmm...the bus made good mileage in lesser time than what I have expected it would. That is unexpectedly good. At least, I am hopeful I could make it at nine. I enjoyed well the ride listening to the tune of the bus' FM station playing mellow rock and new wave songs of the Eighties.

I am overcome with nostalgia passing by a highway that is very familiar to me in my youth and the '80s songs came just in time for a well-deserved company. Over at Obong in Dalaguete I looked for an old place. Instantly, a whiff of familiar smell came my way for just a split second as my eyes gazed at a worn-out house beside the highway. I could not describe the pleasant odor but it is strikingly familiar and it marked the spot near where I stayed and slept for six sets of weekends. Wow! Memories are good!

At 138 kilometers from Cebu City, Liloan Port in Santander is one of the major gateway to Negros. It is in the southernmost tip and it is nearest to the next island on the narrowest part of Tañon Strait. There are two types of seacraft that will cross the strait every day at every half-hour here: fastcrafts operated by Cuadro Alas Navigation Lines and wooden pumpboats operated by Candida Miparanum.

I took the latter because I want to savor fresh seafood cooked in my favorite hole-in-the wall eatery upon its wharf. I found it closed and I looked for another outside the private wharf and found just what I wanted – fresh dangguit soup and baked fresh eggplant. I order two servings of rice and a softdrink and paid just sixty-five pesos. Very cheap!

The water is very tame today and the craft reached safely at the Port of Sibulan. I took a public utility midget (a.k.a. multicab) for Dumaguete City but, at least, I am sitting in the front seat and somewhat comfortable. I disembark at Perdices Street and walk through Legaspi Street and went inside the Pag-IBIG office to transact official business. While waiting for the processing, I decide to leave and come back later.

I went to visit Robinson's Place instead to buy something and opt to spend my little precious time here in this city by visiting the 18th century-built St. Catherine of Alexandria Cathedral – the seat of the Diocese of Dumaguete. I took photos of the baroque facade and the interior ambiance which I will feature later in my personal blog. From the cathedral, I walk an easy stride to the Rizal Plaza then to the seafront North Boulevard before going back to Pag-IBIG.

I left at eleven for the PhilHealth office in Daro Highway to deliver a package and transact another business. This took not long and good enough to take lunch at the nearby Connie's Grill House. This small restaurant offer beef, pork and chicken meat cooked in different styles. Something unusual caught my eye - beef paklay – and I ordered that to go along with pinakbet, two servings of rice and a softdrink.

It's the first time that I get to eat beef paklay and it's very tasty. The thinly-sliced innards and lung components are soft to the tongue and gums and chewing is never a problem. Yeah, I love it. I wished we have like this in Cebu. What we have is the mandunggada but it is a different concoction. On the other hand, the pinakbet is cooked just enough leaving a crispy sensation. The ingredients are evenly spaced with no one dominating the rest like most restaurants do.

When I went to PhilHealth, I passed by a while ago a market fair locally know as a tabo. It is very near from PhilHealth and I walk in that direction and hope to see items which I love to take home. The open place is half-occupied. The first thing I see are fresh fern tops and I noted it intending to come back after my tour of the rest of the tables. I found chopped taro hearts and buy two robust plastic full of that. On the way out, I bring with me five sets of 50 fern tops each. Just paid all for forty pesos. What a treat!

Time to go back to Cebu now. I wrapped the leafy tops with my extra shirt to retain its freshness and stowed it deep in my bag along with the taro hearts. Rode a road midget again in the half-empty back and I reach Sibulan. I registered with the fastcraft and it left at two in the afternoon. From the boat I went immediately to a waiting Ceres Liner airconditioned bus and seated nearest the window. Glad to be away from the hot weather.

I adjusted the swiveling air vents overhead that flow cool air into my direction. Moments later the bus left Liloan Port into the national highway bound for Cebu City. The bus received more than it could sit as it leave Argao and still the airconditioner is cold as ever. People complain yet the pleas fell on deaf ears. I retrieve another extra shirt and drape it over my head as the vents could not be closed by hand adjustment. What made matters worse is we have to endure more of the freezer-like bus because of rain and the slowing down of traffic.

The bus reach the terminal at 6:30 PM and God how I am glad to be away from the freezebox. Hehe, my wifey should be surprised by the treats I brought her. The taro hearts and fern tops are both her favorites and I'm sure she would cook the fern first. She steam the tops and add vinegar, tomato, ginger, garlic and onions. Voila! It is superbly done and so crispy. Mwah! I love the sound munching it.

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NIGHT TRIP TO MALAPASCUA

I LEFT THE OFFICE in Mandaue City at ten thirty in the evening of April 30, 2010. I will take an overnight trip far north to Daanbantayan and, from there, cross over to Malapascua Island early in the morning to retrieve a package and bring it back to the mainland.

I will not be alone. Eddie Alberca will be with me and he will drive the Toyota Revo over two small cities and nine towns, a distance of roughly 138 kilometers, more or less. The Revo's fuel tank is three-fourths full and the astern and flank windows are taped with the election posters of Tito Sotto – a senatorial candidate for the May 10 election which are a few days away and we are Vic and Joey. (Just joking).

By the time we got past Danao City, the North Hagnaya Road becomes a challenge for a sleep deprived driver. Although well-paved, the lighting leaves a lot to be desired especially at the stretch between Carmen and Catmon. The highway is built on the cliffside where the Camotes Sea is ever patient in waiting to catch a seaward fall.

The sky is cloudy, depriving us full moonshine and what few lights illuminating in the dark, becomes a blur, as Eddie stepped on the gas hard to reach our first destination before three in the morning then sleep three more hours before crossing to the island. That is the plan and, as each and every plan, it could stick or it could change.

After an hour, we are still in Catmon and nearing Sogod town but with much safer road conditions. By the time we reached the village of Damolog we switched to the highway that climbed over the Panugnawan Hills in Tabogon where the dreaded Eme Cliff is located although not as threatening as before because of aggressive road widening efforts by the DPWH.

The sudden late night shower presented another problem with Eddie as the now-wet downward turns made the road slippery. We are now in the middle of our destination and Eddie was very careful to the obstacles we traversed and negotiate but, by the time he is on a flat grade, he set hard the pedal and accelerated the Revo to 200-220 Kph!

We reached Bogo City at around twelve thirty midnight and made a brief stop to refuel and for some well-deserved midnight snacks to pep up ourselves against Lady Starlight. Then we hit the road again and the AUV screeched its wheels as it made a speedy right turn to the junction were Bogo, San Remigio and Medillin meet.

In Cebu, the only (and almost) straight roads that ran for several kilometers are found only in Tuburan and in Medellin. And Medellin is the longest of the two and we were now cruising at top speed here. We reached the Daanbantayan District Hospital at 2:15 AM and decided to end our journey for the night. I gave Eddie the whole Revo compartment while I looked somewhere flat to lay down.

I found one under the awning palm leaves of a young coconut tree where there is a work bench in which there are recent dry wood shavings accumulating underneath it. I spread the shavings evenly and placed my light sleeping bag over it. A folded vinyl tarp is ready beside me, just in case it rained. Meanwhile, a large bat screeched overhead and flew away, probably disturbed over my unwelcome company.

I woke to a beautiful dawn of May 1, 2010. I looked at my cellphone clock and it says 5:15 AM. Washed my face and body with a wet face towel near a water tap. Eddie did likewise and he complained something like mosquitoes throwing him off into fits of discomfort last night. I thought he used the Revo's aircon?

We left the hospital at six and proceeded to Maya Wharf – the gateway to Malapascua Island, to Kawayan in Biliran Province and to some small islets. Eddie and I had been here in June and then me with Patrick in October, both last year (2009). I always looked forward to eating in a hole-in-the-wall joint here that specializes cooking freshly-caught bounties of the sea. The old lady instantly recognized us and provided a table and seats and free servings of the bottom end of a cooked milled corn.

In the wok where two steaming big pots. Eddie grabbed open the first lid and he was all smiles. We just had a treat of a rare seashell, locally known as tipay  or Mother of Pearl oysters (Pinctada Maxima), sliced up in small cubes and cooked with a thick sauce concoction. Very juicy! In another is a soup from a fresh anduhaw fish. A little girl passes by to sell a large bowl of fresh shrimps and we paid it outright for our own exclusive consumption. The dear old lady even offered to cook the shrimps for us free. Wow! What a treat indeed!

After that sumptuous breakfast, the dear old lady, again, offered to sell and cook for us her cache of a large but fresh squid kept inside her ice cooler as our food for lunch if ever we would come back by noon. A big YES was our reply. And, as before, we paid for that without any hitches. I will have that squid by noon, I promised myself, but, first, I have to finish our work.

The boat that is to ferry us to the island is moored amid sea. In going there we have to ride a small boat that is steered by pushing a long pole to the sea bottom and it cost ten pesos a ride. Once on the boat, we sat on the lee side where we would be away from the waves. The boat captain charge fifty pesos per trip per passenger and there were many passengers and tourists – local and foreign – on board.

The waves were choppy but there were no large swells. Saw a sea gull dive and splash down into the water and coming up with a fishtail caught in its beak. Did the feat over and over again until my attention is caught by a large sentinel rock in between mainland Cebu and Malapascua hosting a lone beach house. Looks abandoned and, perhaps, left by the owner to deteriorate. The islet is bare of vegetation and I am absolutely sure that there is no water source except ferried from the mainland.

The boat slowed down as it got past an imaginary line marked by a floating buoy. The skipper steered the wheel left and right as it followed an invisible channel blocked here and there by anchored boats of the same design – with outriggers and painted white. As the engine is shut off the polemen started their work pushing and grunting. A water splashed and down goes the the anchor on the starboard side as the front pole man tried to push back hard to slow down the boat's approach to the pristine shoreline.

Just before the prow touched sand, I was now up and running on the beach. Old habits die hard, don't they? I couldn't believe I could still do this with a pair of arthritic knees and approaching middle age. It's just a fluke maybe with the soft pearly white sand cushioning the impact of my landing. Maybe? But, I don't care. I am in MALAPASCUA.

I walked the beautiful beach line carrying my camera with Eddie behind me. Rows of this same outriggered boats are secured along the beach with nylon ropes which I have to pass over or under it. Meanwhile corralled beach houses faced parallel with the shoreline as a five-meter easement is implemented by the island-village authorities giving access for everyone – poor fisher folks or rich resort owners – to the sea.

Due to the presence of these pricey resorts, food and water costs have risen as well. A tube of ice costs five pesos and a ganta of rice is sold at ninety pesos! This is too much for the tourists and visitors and how much more for the local folks. Nevertheless, this is much cheaper compared to, say, Boracay. The good thing about Malapascua is, it ain't crowded and sewage is almost absent in the water.

Malapascua has excellent dive spots. Thresher sharks abound here in sheer numbers. The deeps here is their haven. The first time I was here, I ate a freshly-caught juvenile thresher shark cooked in coconut-milk soup and it was excellently done. All fishes and seashells are cooked and eaten here fresh from the sea for electricity is a rare commodity here. Power is switched on only at six in the evening and shut off at 10 PM.

Shouldering the package on my right shoulder whose weight, I estimate, to be about 12 to 15 kilos, I went back to where I came from over unstable soft sand where my shoes were buried under the added weight. I climbed to a waiting boat and glad to set down my cargo on the deck and enjoy the fresh breeze cooling away my heated up body. The boat filled quickly with tourists and visitors and cargoes.

In a while, the pole guys started their work and the boat retreated away from the shore and took a reverse right turn then the skipper's mate pulled out a cord from below deck and the engine coughed to life. It is business time to cross the channel once again back to the mainland. Two other boats left the shore one after the other tagging behind us while another boat coming the opposite way passed by us.

As the boat slowly approached the unfinished quay of Maya, pushed and counter-pushed by all these polemen, I instantly remembered about the waiting squid whose chopped up meat is cooked in its black splendor. Impelled by this thought, I forgot, then and there, that I have arthritic knees and I also forgot that I am approaching middle age. I jumped from the prow into a huge boulder that served as a rampart for the quay even as the guy lines have not yet been secured to the missing bollards. This is no fluke, I assure you. This is an old habit that refused to die.

I walked briskly up the slope into the Toyota Revo parked right across the kitsch eatery where we did our breakfast hours ago. Eddie came after me gasping for breath and sweating profusely. I left the package secured inside the Revo while Eddie turned on the engine and cooled himself with the built-in aircon. I walked across and went inside and examined the pot where the squid is cooked. The dear old lady upon noticing our presence have re-heated the food in its – you're right – black splendor.

We left Maya Wharf an hour-and-a-half later after consuming a flat bottle of Generoso Brandy mixed with Cobra Energy Drink. I laughed at my reddish face in the mirror resulting from that mixed drink yet I am quite sober and the Revo spurted down the highway and, for the first time since last night, I could see the landscapes clearly. The camera came in handy and I picked my shots at great speed. The result speaks for itself that the camera is drunk!

At Catmon we looked for a gallon of a locally-fermented alcoholic drink made from the sap of coconut and found one after considerable search all over the town. This drink is called tuba and I am buying it to drink and celebrate a safe trip. But I cannot consume one gallon even with Eddie and Patrick helping me but I could age the rest and convert it to vinegar.

Finally, we arrived at Mandaue City at three thirty in the afternoon. I filled Patrick with lots of stories especially with the food trips we had in Maya Wharf and Patrick knows I am not talking about a yarn. He just promised me that he will look forward to another trip there which he did on June 11, 2010 and after that, it was his turn to bloat me up with his tales of the food trips.

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AN IDYLLIC DAY IN PINAMUNGAHAN

WE WERE IN A celebratory mood as we drove from Toledo City down to Pinamungajan town on the west coast of Cebu in the morning of October 14, 2009. Eddie Alberca drove the white Suzuki Every220 and Noel Ronquillo sat beside him. Meanwhile, I have all the spaces in the back seat. Willy Sulib, drove from behind us on board his motorcycle.  

It is a fine Thursday morning even when the clouds were wispy gray and a promise of rain tingled the senses. Soon enough, it rained, drenching Willy following us. The wind slapped hard the windshields and visibility became blurred as the water cascaded on the glass.

We were cruising slowly along the seaside road of Cabiangon in Pinamungajan when we caught sight of fishermen unloading their net from a beached small fishing vessel. By this time, the rains had already stopped. Women and children milled around the blissful activity and joined the fishermen in picking their catch.

Curious, I asked Eddie to stop the mini-van and I went down from the vehicle into the pavement and from the breakwater wall I jumped five feet below into the soft sand of the narrow strip of beach. I came nearer and, instantly, my gastronomic juices came alive when I saw the glints of the tiny scales of the freshly-caught anchovies.

Then and there, I “begged” to have a part of their catch and, after a very brief haggling, I was able to tow away a kilo-and-a-half of the fresh little fish to the direction of my waiting miniature van with two grinning faces waiting inside. This done, after I paid just a hundred pesos (almost $2) for it. Not bad for a few minute's “work”!

Up ahead, we decided to stop by at our favorite watering hole in this part of the province. Instantly, Noel and Willy de-scaled and de-boned the anchovies by washing it first with fresh water while Eddie mixed vinegar, onions, garlic and pepper. The anchovies will then be eaten raw after dipping it in the “reinforced” vinegar and, what do you know, we will taste a sample of heaven. In Japan, they call this sashimi but here we call it simply as kinilaw. Minus the wasabi, of course.

On the other hand, I found a half-gallon of bahalina – a native concoction made from the sap of a coconut tree and fermented for a few days to produce a strong drink with a very tangy taste. To make it compatible with the tongue, I mixed one part of it with another part of a locally-made soda drink – Jaz Cola. “J & B”, that's what people call this drink. Short for “Jaz Cola and bahalina”! (Laughing)

We ate, we drank and we talked; making most of our free time; enjoying the good fortune that the day have heaped upon Willy and all the efforts that Eddie, Noel and I have accomplished after more than a year of trying. It is a good day indeed and it is a good time to celebrate.

Wanna try kinilaw and “J & B”?

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