musings&mem'ries: April 2011

Wednesday 20 April 2011

Reunion

High school reunions can be a rarity considering the fact that worldwide employment has scattered former classmates to the ends of the earth and disease and old age have placed limits on the participants. Consider a class in 1972 – 39 years ago, and this will give you the idea that some in the batch may have already returned to the dust or are caught up in a booming business or livelihood that a reunion may be the last thing in mind.

I still believe that “if there is a will there’s a way,” and to prove my conviction I had to organize a reunion notwithstanding the possibility of only two attendees. Facebook has a unique way of bringing long lost friends together and I chose to use this medium to forward my cause. I created a page and invited friends all over the world to join. A lot went between the establishment of the page and the actual event and a hundred excuses were given, and it looked like the project was doomed from the start.

What else could I do but take the trip back ‘home’ and hope some friends would show up. The guy who actually fueled this reunion was a bosom friend who was someone more than a brother to me. I even consider him the guy who brought me up, because we spent more time together than my parents and he taught me a lot more lessons and introduced more mischievous stuff into my adolescent mind, which fatefully helped make me what I am today.

OK, OK… I’m getting to be morbidly wordy again and I know your minds are wandering to the photos. So click on the first photo to enlarge it to get the rest of the story. Better yet click on "slideshow" to see the pores on the skin or the strands of white hair in my mustache.

yeah that's him - Erberto Arriaga. he and lilibeth met me at davao int'l airport 7 in the morning. they had to drive 75 kilometers just to fetch me. his house was the venue for the reunion and he shouldered all expenses - food, gasoline, etc to ensure a successful and stress free reunion. his wife and family were very supportive and it was like i was really back home.

first event for the day - island hop at Passig islet. one island = one hop. Lilibeth (bing) Alicaway and Ma. Luz (inday) Faller leading. Mary - Erbing's wife and Mayang - his daughter behind.

the tide was out and the boats were virtually useless for human cargo. we just made sure the roast pig was safe and dry.

that's the island

the tide was up in the afternoon and we got back to the mainland without getting muddied up again.

main course... lechon!

shrimps

chicken adobo

kaldereta by inday

kinilaw yellow fin tuna

yellow fin panga and organs

that's the chef

we wiled away the afternoon with these

we were really having a blast!

Cheerylyn and Janely Alquino. these sisters were very close friends and I thank them for showing up.

bing and her "Oh Lori" "i'll be born again, born again..." she flew all the way from cebu to attend the reunion.

some wacky shots

can't get enough

trying out erbing's big bike.

reliving what we use to do in the years when we were not supposed to be drinking yet. our beer then was san miguel pale pilsen. now it looks like our livers need stronger beer.

breakfast on the second day

Southern Mindanao Academy then. it was not like this yet, but i like it more this way. in our time it was like a military barracks.

standing in front of our classroom - section: Mercury

culinary entrance... the dormitorians ate all meals here and sometimes did a courting in the premises.

the dormitory that was home for me for 3 years. if only the walls could talk. I spent a whole day washing and waxing all the floors and the entire bathroom as punishment for leaving the campus to watch a movie at the city. Rodney Ramos was an accomplice and we were the center of ridicule by the righteous dorm mates.

there was a canal here along the pathway from that urinal behind that I was privileged to dig while the entire school had ongoing classes. I remember the jeers while the students walked by and you can imagine what was going in my mind.

these guys spent the best years together here... actually not only in this campus but out on the road and in places where the school laws were not a deterrent to our enjoyment.

we had a pose similar to this by the side of the building and I would give a thousand bucks to have it posted here. our apparel then was a combination of "wetlook" and "double knit".

last pose before leaving the lady between us was second to none in our class when it came to mental and physical endowments. I initially considered her a threat to my intellect but later reneged on my plans to to top the class when it was obvious that she was the teachers' pet and I was the scapegoat.

it was exactly like this 39 years ago and it still remains the same. i hope the bread improved.

last meal together we will be oceans apart, but this reunion will be forever cherished and remembered. thanks guys for making it a reality.

Friday 8 April 2011

Sipadan dive safari

The Philippines’ back door with an infamous history of smuggling, hostage taking and Moro insurgency in quest of a separate Islamic state has always been an adventure zone for me.

Names like Basilan, Jolo, Tawi-Tawi, Sandakan and Sipadan always bring thoughts of speeding smuggler “kumpits,” Islamic radicals beheading some infidel and notorious pirates plundering the villages. It also brings to mind scenes of pristine beaches and uninhabited islands with sleek dolphins and awkward turtles dancing in the waves.

I grew up with tales of trickery, tyranny and death surrounding my kin who have been fishermen on these waters for decades. My dad’s kid brother was deprived of his youth at the tender age of 12 when he and my grandfather, in the dark of the night, were robbed at gunpoint of their night’s catch and in-board motor, and left to drift out on the open sea.

It was always a dream to get a first-hand glimpse of the enchanting and equally perilous islands, but the demands of my career and bringing up kids proved too restrictive. With the progeny now done with school and in charge of their own lives, I realized that the adventurous spirit in me was just done with hibernation and eager to tackle the abandoned boyhood yearnings.

A quick inventory of the bucket list I made some eons back surprisingly revealed a dwindling column of to-do’s with the most daunting chores dominating the list. I had to find a way to confront this part of the world where my forebears took danger for granted, and I surmised that the best way to do it was by an island dive safari of my own design.

This expedition would take me from my comfort zone in the metropolis of Bangkok through Kuala Lumpur and down to the chain of islands that connect Southern Philippines with Borneo. In this way I would be striking out several items from my bucket list in one sprint.

I took stock of my muscles and sinews and figured out that 3 – 4 days with a total of 9 dives at depths of 60 - 100 feet would be good and sane enough for a 55 year-old doggie. I also checked my finances to make sure that I would not be forced to wash dishes at some Borneo resto, surfed the Net and travel forums to check out the dive resorts, hotels and inter-island boats plying the route and most importantly made sure that the islands and dives I wanted to do were still in the top-5 best dive list in the world of scuba diving.

With my tickets booked, leave from work approved, Thai immigrations re-entry permit secured, gear packed and family hugged and kissed, I set out with a heart pounding in anticipation for a great adventure.

It would take me two plane rides, a day of touring the city of Kuala Lumpur and some breathtaking views of Mt. Kinabalu before I would touch down at Tawau and ride to Semporna where my dive buddies – Ingrid, Ali, Jun, Florian and a dozen more would be waiting. There would also be about 15 Thai diver friends from Dive Indeed at Asoke who would be taking the next plane for the same islands and we vowed to bump into each other while chasing the innocent green turtles or while being pursued by the hordes of guilty-looking hammerhead sharks.

I will admit that the adventurous youngster in me took over this aging body and pushed the old man aside as each phase of the trip unfolded. Kuala Lumpur was just as I expected as were the plane rides, but my trip was almost aborted when the ATM in Kuala Lumpur International Airport wouldn’t give me money. I tried about 5 different machines, but my Bangkok based visa debit card failed to convince the local currency that I was in dire need. It’s only good that I am not an atheist and that I would rather call my father in heaven via fast-prayer for assistance - and my next try netted 300 Ringgit.

I spent the night in fitful sleep on the cold floor of the waiting area thinking about how poor I was. The following morning before checking in I attempted again to get money from the stingy machines. All 5 refused, and by this time I was close to panicking. I was incorrectly told that there were no ATMs in Semporna and I was very sure that the 300 Ringgit was not enough for food and accommodations for 4 days.

In my extreme anxiety I pushed my trolley of bags to the middle of the concourse that was packed with humanity rushing to the check-in counters. I bowed my head and audibly said a desperate prayer to my heavenly father. I was sure that he was looking down on me at that moment and that he saw my soul cry out to him. From there I gingerly made my way back to the ATM, stuck my card in the venerable slit and held my breath while punching the worn-out keys.

The machine whirred and squeaked, coughed out ten 50-Ringgit bills and then spat out my card like it was saying – “there you are doubter, don’t ever falter in your faith!” By this time I was wiping the tears that were escaping my lacrimal sacs and I raised my voice to God for answering my prayer. You bet my steps that morning as I boarded the plane to Tawau, were like leaps of a spirited gazelle.

That day in the plane I saw the summit of Mt. Kinabalu over the clouds and made friends with a couple beside me. The bus ride from Tawau to Semporna was something that I didn’t expect with the road paved and the bus air conditioned - I was anticipating something more frontier.

Semporna is the gateway to the best dive sites in the world including “turtle patch,” "white-tip avenue" and “barracuda point” among dozens of other awesome sites. I got off the bus, went straight to the Sipadan Scuba dive shop and registered so that my dive gear could be sorted out and ready for the next day. I found a brand new hotel – Holiday Diver’s Inn, just a stone’s throw away and checked in a “shared” room with two other British dive buddies who arrived ahead of me. Now all I had to do was to calm down my excited nerves and patiently wait for the day to dawn.

I found out the next day that there would be at least 15 divers in two boats who would be taking on Mantabuan Island with me. This island proved to be packed with marine life and the water motionless enough for “Underwater Photography” – which was the first certificate among the five that I was supposed to garner before I was granted the “Advanced Open Water Diver” license. That day I also did “Drift Diving” and “Underwater Navigation” before making the 30-minute speedboat trip back to Semporna.

The next day was diving at Mabul Island where the conditions were opposite that of Mantabuan. Here I accomplished the mandatory “Deep Dive” at 100 feet/30 meters and the simulated “Wreck Diving” among the manmade reefs that mimicked apartment framework structures and was now home for huge species of corral fish. This island is known for macro and muck diving and true to its fame I found some exquisitely beautiful Nudibranches. At this point of my safari I was already dreading that I had only one more day left. Diving was so good that I wanted to stay for a week.

Sipadan! The crowning glory of my trip, and I was up very early to catch some photos of the rising sun and to observe the fishermen land their night’s catch at the jetty. There were only 7 divers (4 Finns and 2 French) and 2 dive masters in our boat that morning and the 1-hour trip to the island was fast and smooth. We went straight to the police outpost on the island and registered – showed our dive permits and claimed a dive flag that indicated that we were legal.

From this vintage point my dive master was already pointing out the dorsal fins of some reef sharks playing in the surf and a head of a green turtle bobbing on the surface. I admit that never in my life was my heart beating this fast with excitement.

I did 3 fun dives that day, met 4 white-tip reef sharks, bumped into or was bumped by more than a dozen turtles, teased an enormous giant clam, got caught in the swirl of hundreds of barracudas and jacks, used up 3 tanks of air, spent 3 hours diving, bonded with divers from all over the world… and wished that I could stay forever.

I could feel the blood of my forebears coursing through my veins and stirring up the passion of the sea as I boarded a boat the next day for the 20-hour trip from Sandakan Sabah to Zamboanga city, Philippines. We would go by the islands of Tawi-Tawi, Sulu and Basilan and I noted that some of the crew on board where touting assault rifles. The trip was smooth and peaceful and I had enough time to meditate on the events of the week and realize that my childhood dreams did come true.

In my heart I knew that I was home.

Diving @ Sipadan

Carbon dioxide vents, increased water temperature due to industrialization and climate change, homo sapiens’ gastronomical demands for sushi, an increase in eco-marine tourism, pollution… and the list goes on and on for reasons why our seas and marine life lay at the brink of destruction and death.

Senility, disease, high-speed travel, criminal activities that abound, natural calamities and disasters may also be some reason why my person too may be poised at the threshold of extinction.

These are just some morbid thoughts that intensify my determination to get to the bottom of the blue sea and enjoy God’s marvelous creation, which I only can view by donning my scuba gear. Unwittingly it is also one way to escape the morose feelings while overlooking the fact that one malfunction of my equipment in the depths or a famished shark could abruptly end my jaunt as well.

Admittedly this is not the best way to introduce an album. It was purposely done to give balance to the beauty and thrill that the photos were meant to portray. Beauty is better appreciated when it stands in stark contrast with the sinister.