The days that were supposed to be my rest from my impromptu week-long sojourn through the northern parts of Luzon turned into another week of adventure at the opposite end of the island. The question that greeted me as I put down my bag: “We’re going off to Bicol in a few hours, wanna tag along?”
I could not say no. I was unpacking and repacking my bags, charging my cams, transferring photos, finishing odds and ends and before I knew it we were rolling towards Southern Luzon.
Five raging waterfalls, innumerable treks, a smoldering hot spring, one chilly cold spring resort, two beaches, a sprawling deer farm, one mountain, countless wakeboards, two awkward spills, and numerous local dishes; it was infinitely better than resting.
Most Beautiful Post
Now this is hard, I’ve really no particular favorite post and I haven’t really thought about this before. Looking at my archive, if I really have to pick, I guess it would have to be the Dinner at The Ruins Bacolod post. Wait, scratch that, I think it’s my Moon Garden Tagaytay post. I feel this is my most beautifully written article (which I suppose crossed the border into being too flowery, but what the hell, right? hehe). I guess it kinda worked well combined with the photos I took of the place.
Most Popular Post
Now, this is easier. According to my Blogger stats page, my all-time most popular post is the Jetson-esque Centris Walk in Quezon City. I guess people are really just curious about the new futuristic eat-out place in the city.
Three long bus rides, seven cramped jeeps, seven jumbled tricycles, ten boats through differing waters, uncountable bus stops, one rented van along with two comic Batangeño drivers, two bustling cities, five sleepy towns, five islands, two rugged mountains, five old and new churches, one rocking festival, five ref magnets, one shirt, three Starbucks City Mugs, three weighty cameras, a bagful of snorkeling gear, an officemate, three cousins, numerous uncles, one aunt, one brother, uncountable strangers, and me and my two ultra-bruised feet; finally, a sketch of my nine-day trip through Southern Luzon.
One reason I was so excited in revisiting Naga City was because of the (gasp) Starbucks City Icon mugs that I collect. It was gonna be my 8th mug in the series, and there were only 11 of them. Just three more mugs to completion and I can almost hear Tyler Durden say never be complete, haha.
So before going back to Manila, I, along with my cousins dropped by the local Starbucks Coffee in the city after filling our stomachs full of Kinalas (Bicol’s version of Mami) a hole in the wall near the Naga Cathedral.
The mug rack was the first thing my eye hunted for as I entered Naga’s Starbucks. And there it was, a rackfull of orange-colored coffee mugs printed with Naga’s delicacy, the pili nut. I grabbed three mugs like there was no tomorrow before heading to the counter to order some fraps.
Pili (Canarium Ovatum Engl.) is a tree indigenous to the Philippines and it is in Bicol where it is abundantly grown. Most of its produce, the pili nut, are made into snack delicacies and can usually be found in pasalubong (keepsake) shops in the city centers.
I was actually surprised at the icon showcased on the mug, as I thought it would showcase the Penafrancia Festival which is really what Naga is more known for (well, at least for me hehe). Nevertheless, the pili nut, is still a pretty good icon for the city, I guess.
Starbucks Coffee Naga City
Address: Magsaysay Avenue cor. Dayangdang Street
Naga City, Camarines Sur
Bicol Region
It seems everywhere I look; churches follow me at every corner I take in Naga City. Worship places seem to grow out of its streets like mushrooms on farm fields. The last one I was able to visit, not out of disinterest to the other ones, rather than due to lack of time, was the Basilica Minore de Peñafrancia or the Basilica, as the locals refer to it.
Construction of the church was started in 1976 due to the increasing numbers of devotees flocking Naga City. It was finished five years later, after much delay due to financing. It was lifted to a title of a Basilica Minore after a request to Rome by Leonardo Legazpi, the third Archbishop of Caceres in 1985.
The basilica appears as new as the year it was built. The lawn that surrounds it was as verdant as it can be and the walls of the church look fresh and clean. The architecture is simple and clean-cut, ornaments on the church is limited to trims and windows that pierce its walls.
Next on my blitzkrieg list of churches to visit on my last day in Bicol was the region’s oldest church. Fronting a tree-laden plaza and sporting an unpainted neo-classical looking exterior, one would really not think the San Francisco Church to be older than the Naga Metropolitan Cathedral, nor even the oldest in the whole of Bicol.
The church really doesn’t look old. Its exterior, although rough-looking in its weathered concrete facade, has none of the decay that is usually found on old cathedrals.
I love bare concrete facades. In my opinion, it looks purer, has more character, and looks more honest than painted ones, which most of the time looks plasticky and fake (if you’re not convinced, google Tadao Ando’s work in Japan). I fervently hope the church remains in its unpainted state.
I was nursing a major hangover on the final date of my nine-day sojourn from Romblon to Naga, I think I drank too much during the previous night’s session. I was supposed to wake up early and explore the city, but as expected, I woke up quite late (with a headache to boot).
I arrived at the Naga Metropolitan Cathedral at almost 10am. The sun was already pressing hot to my skin as I raised my camera and took my first photograph of the day. The Bicol Mass was still ongoing as I took the time shooting the cathedral’s facade.
Instead of taking the shorter and more straightforward route back to Naga City, we took the longer road and detoured to check the vista along the eastern coast of Sagñay (pronounced sangay), a sleepy municipality in Camarines Sur.
This was originally our destination instead of Caramoan, the plan being to beach at the rocky shores of Barangay Patitinan, then head out to the nearby Atulayan Island. My uncle decided against it at the last minute since we’ve already been here the last time we went to Bicol (I can still recall our picnic at the nearby cold spring covered by shady trees just a few meters beside the sea, and snorkeling the afternoon away at its starfish-laden waters).
Alarms sounded one after another as the clock struck 3AM. It was our last day in Caramoan and we have to make the first trip back to Sabang port in order to reach Mt. Mayon before noontime. Everyone scrambled to prepare their bags and luggage and an hour later, we were roaring off on two tricycles to Guijalo Port. I’ve never seen my cousins and aunts prepare this fast, knowing them, it was almost a miracle, haha.
It was already nine in the evening and we’ve just finished raiding all the souvenir shops we can find for our pasalubong and keepsakes. Ref magnets checked, keychains checked, t-shirts checked, our grumbling stomachs unchecked.
We’ve been passing by a restaurant advertising cheap kinalas and loglog ever since day one of our Caramoan trip; and I guess there was never gonna be a better time to check it out after all that walking.
Kinalas and loglog are Bicol’s version of mami. They’re basically the same except for the brown gooey stuff they pile on top of the soup (I think, do correct me if there are other differences). The basic bowl is called loglog, and kinalas is the special version which has shredded beef included in the mix.
Being stuck for a whole day on an island full of beautiful people can never be a bad thing. I was at Caramoan’s Bagieng Island (also known as Sab-itan/ Sabitan Laya Island), unable to hop to the next island on our list due to the ebbing tide. So what to do? I whipped out my camera, attached my telephoto lens and started photographing people from a distance.
The sun was scorching the beach of Bagieng. We just had a lunchful of bicol express, ginataang palos (eel on coconut milk), and squid with veggies. I was full and contented as I sat on the beach under the island’s many rock formations, totally unaware as my eyelids fell and sleep engulfed me.
We started for the island at eight in the morning, plying the northern portion of the Caramoan waters. The hour-long ride went smoothly as we passed the jagged rock formations that rise up on the island’s eastern end and docked on its cream-colored shore.
With the tent put up, I unhurriedly went for a walk on the northwestern shore of Bagieng.
It was nine in the evening and we were sitting on a curb at one of Barangay Tawog’s sidestreets, eating a cup of ice cream from a nearby store. We just had dinner at the nearest carinderia and we were contented with the cheap ice cream we were having.
Barangay Tawog in Caramoan is where everyone’s at; this is where island-hopping tourists lodge, buy souvenirs, dine, drink and hang around at. Don’t expect Starbucks Coffee shops or swanky accommodations though. The place is still quite provincial, with eateries more like cafeterias, and lodgings, renovated homes.
We were racing against the sun across Caramoan’s concrete roadways, cameras and tripods in tow, to catch the brick-laden cathedral we saw at the town earlier for the sunset.
We just came from a day of island hopping and since we were not able to finish off our tour on a blazing sunset, we planned to make do with the town’s church instead.
The church looked old, and I found out that indeed it was.
Founded in 1619 by the Franciscans, its walls are made of bricks punctured by arched doors and windows. The brick walls were also reflected inside.
One thing I found really interesting is its ceiling which were made of unpainted patchwork of plywoods. Imagining an unpainted plywood-clad ceiling may not bring to mind grand things, but once you see the pattern it makes on the church’s curved ceiling, you’d see what I mean.
The blue-green waters of the Minalahus cove enveloped my body as I jumped from our boat to access the island.
A few minutes ago, we were stuck waiting, a hundred meters from the shore, from our outrigger boat. The nearby cove was too shallow to navigate and we have to wait for the tide to rise back up. I was itching to start snorkeling; our boatman said that this was the place to do some underwater fun.
Not wanting to wait any longer, I opted to just swim all the way to the shore.
I was panting like a dog as I reached the peak of Matukad Island’s jagged karsts, I’m definitely not a mountaineer, let alone a rock climber. This relatively low climb at the northeast corner of the island was totally dangerous. As I rested my unwieldy legs, I was thinking to myself how I got myself into this situation.
We started off from the town of Caramoan earlier on six-seater tricycles then transferred to a middle-sized outrigger boat at the mangrove-speckled port of Bikal. It was already pretty late and the sun was already high up. We circled the coasts of Bikal and Paniman, and after more than an hour of being splashed with saltwater, our boat docked at the wavy shore of Matukad Island.
Matukad, according to our guide means mataas, and I can definitely see why. The island is dotted with sharp rocky outcrops.
After much asking along the busy old streets of Boac, I finally found a jeep to Cawit Port. I was originally headed for the harbor of Balanakan, but was unable to locate the jeepneys that head to that pier due to the rerouting made for the Moriones Festival.
The streets of Marinduque are actually quite beautiful with old ancestral houses lining its sidewalks. It looks a bit like Vigan City, only busier, no doubt due to the ongoing festivities. I managed to snag the mandatory ref magnet before boarding a jeep.
Thirty minutes of cramped jeepney ride later and I was finally at the docks. I was seated at the farthest end of the overcrowded jeep (they even have makeshift seat at the rear entrance) and I cannot recall how I managed to get out of the vehicle with my backpack, snorkel vest, tripod and beltbag on.
Digital Photographer Philippines, the country’s leading photo magazine and has been hosting the On Assignment competition since its inception four years ago. This year, they upped the ante for those wanting to be included; those that have been chosen for the previous OA’s can now pitch for OA7, talk about competition eh?
The one-week, all expenses paid shoot co-sponsored by Caltex and Nokia would take place at the southern part of Luzon, the Bicol Region. It would be a whirlwind of shooting and eating from Albay to Camarines Sur. Who wouldn’t want to be a part of that?
This is my first time to campaign for On Assignment, and to my total disbelief, I was one of the lucky eight photographers who got picked for this year’s amazing journey. With all the of DPP’s heavy hitters pitching, I totally brushed off my chance to get in for OA7. First timer’s luck I guess!
Below is my pitch for this year’s On Assignment. Wouldn’t have made it without my mom’s support, thanks again mom!
“Oh yes nice place, I’ve been there.”
That’s my 5-foot tall, 60-year old, soft-spoken mom with her usual line whenever I ask her about a place or have just been to a photo Safari and showing off my photos. From the run-of-the-mill tourist ridden locales to the virtually unknown rough-road/no-road places, she’s been there. I literally feel like a little kid whenever I talk to my mom about traveling, she seems to be the ultimate wanderer. Point anywhere on a map of the country, and again she’s been there.
I spent more than twenty years of my life lazily flipping channels over our couch or cooling off at the malls; the wanderlust has never really turned its mysterious eye over me until the year I bought my first camera. Everything changed after that.
Never did a month pass that I wouldn’t be out of the house, my camera slung about and tripod towed. Exploring everything from the small park near our house, the gritty streets of Manila, the usual weekend-getaways, the far-off places of the countryside; I'm taking it all in with a new eye. My television became rusty, the hours of flipping through the tube was replaced by my computer’s Photoshop; my favorite channels, now photo websites; my toy collection, now cameras and lenses.
It has been three years since my life did a total turn-about and it was not about to wane down.
Inspired by a talk given by master traveler Ferdz Decena over DPP’s 3rd year anniversary, I finally decided on opening up my own travel site, Lakad Pilipinas. Online barely six months old, it already boasts of more than sixty entries; that’s almost ten entries a month and I haven’t even gotten to post my prior travels yet.
This is what I will bring to the OA7 team. My fiery passion for the craft, my gift of seeing what others cannot, my eagerness to journey where no one dares to go. My heartfire for Photography and lust for Travel.
Let me have the opportunity to listen to my mom say even once that I have traveled where she has not and hear her utter “I’ve never been to so many beautiful places in just a week’s time.”
Pick me and make my mom proud. Choose me and I will make DPP and Lonely Planet proud.
