El Nido's 7 Commando Beach

Dear traveler, 

As you can read in my previous posts, we've chosen to pursue Tour Packages A and C. Our overwhelming gratitude to Tay Miloy's Inn for the good rapport and frugal packages for our first ever El Nido Island getaway. 

If you are still clueless on the legwork for this travel, see this link. 

If you feel the seemingly hustle-bustle commuting time difference, you can feel inspired by clicking my previous post. 

Most of the tour packages have their own share of ups and downs. It depends on your genre; some are beach-bummers, some adore caving and the rest of the pack love climbing (most especially Taraw Cliff). In our case, we got a mixed group: I personally love sand castles (YES) and the lovely beaches and my other colleagues planned in climbing up the Taraw Cliff. 

Note: Taraw Cliff is no longer accommodating hikers due to some security issues (by which had been reported in various social media). However, the second highest peak is still a good hiker's den for all of you. 

Moving forward, we decided to capture two birds with one awesome day that we have allocated for this tour. (We had no regrets for choosing A and C) 

I have personally no history about this beach and the tour guide was barely instructional on this part of Tour A. I was imagining this beach to be another isolated island far from land but seeing the map above, I was scammed. 

I know that as you plan to check the photos in google, you will be more amazed by this beach which is the front runner of Tour A package. 

Just a short review, Tour A is all about: 

• Big Lagoon
• Small Lagoon
• Seven Commandos Beach 
• Secret Lagoon

Nearest to the point of origin was the 7 Commandos Beach (the first pitstop). 

Dear traveler, you will be expecting to see this photo below while you're on your way. Everything we saw were magnanimous and glorious in our sight. Tour A is a fun choice and a favorite choice among tourists (both local and international). 

I have a video of this and you can fully check my Instagram (IG) account and try following my adventures @eldeee143. 

Upon arriving to this beach, I personally felt that I needed to attend to my call of nature and it was a good thing that the beach had its own comfort room with another donation box. 

It stood strong to its fame and scent since tourists were fondly taking photos and sandbathing. Near the comfort room was a beach volleyball court and good thing nobody was playing at that very hour. My colleagues were way behind me since I was tending to my own call of nature. 

The photo above was to my left and what was to my right is this photo below: 

It's a haven for beach-bummers and the fine sand is worth dying for. There are also hotels and inns where you can stay for a night (and this would be at an incredible price for sure). 

And I made sure that with or without my friends, I enjoy the beach. Take a look at my crazy photos down below. 

Photo above reflects the crazy shoreline from my point of view. Thanks (once again) to my colleague who lent me her waterproof jacket and this made sure my iPhone was water-free. 

This photo above narrates the three people whom I went with and the other international tourists we came along with. 

Here are other epic photos that we took while we bathed for 30 minutes at this beach. 

Lastly, save the best for last. My selfie shot. 

To sum it all up, I enjoyed every single amenity this beach had to offer. Unfortunately, there were some which didn't reach my sight since other tourists were taking advantage of it like the swing and cartoonified standing wallpaper where you insert your head at either one of the six facial slots for you. 

Thanks for reading my travel journal. :) 

If you have questions, feel free to send me an email or just give me a thoughtful comment below. 

Please share the good news to fellow travelers. 

Traveling to El Nido, Palawan.

Dear travelers,

The airport in PPS or Puerto Prinsesa is not a major airport unlike Manila International Airport (MIA) and Mactan International Airport in Lapu-Lapu City, Cebu (another MIA).

Arriving at PPS Airport was a shock because there was a heavy downpour considering June as a commencement to the umbrella season in a tropical country. Take note, Summer months start in April and usually end in May. The month started off with countless rains and the photo below narrates the fright of how our El Nido trip will be.

Cebu Pacific (CEBU PAC) provided us otherwise with cute yellow umbrellas to safeguard our belongings from the downpour.

Upon getting in, I got surmised at how little the space was. I've been to Iloilo, Bacolod, Davao, Manila and Cebu airports and it is to my dismay. Honestly speaking.

The restrooms were neat in a way and were well-maintained. Upon going out, the rain was hardheaded. It didn't stop and we had no choice but to look for the man carrying sheets of paper with our names on it. (Make sure you check this way ahead of time so you don't end up expectant).

Cutting to the chase, we were in the van (Grandia) with three other people. My gut tells me they got the van service on the spot (which is a normal way of living in Palawan).

We knew right from the start. Six (6) hours is a grueling travel time just for one location. My last memory traveling that long was a tracking (literally circumnavigating) trip around Negros Island less than two decades ago.

Getting enough information from friends tells me the normal rate. It is 500 pesos per head not unless you have more colleagues with you then you can try haggling for better rates.

Suggestion: Riding the bus can be an option BUT having limited time to stroll around the place is a primary parameter. It may take you longer than 6 hours with bus stops every other spot in its aisle of travel.

I want you to worry less for this. Just make sure you are not well-rested so you can have ample time to nap while inside the van; contrary to what happened to me since we arrived around 3PM and the night came eloquently with my eyes wide awake the entire trip.

You can: 

• Listen to an e-book. 
• Have the best playlist while on the road. Listen to it of course. 
• Watch a movie. Download movies in your iPAD or iPHONE and it will kill time. (better have your powerbanks charged) 

The road to El Nido is spic and span. No road cracks (unlike other areas) and the roads are far from edges and cliffs (unlike traveling to Baguio or going to Danasan Eco Park).

While you may be sitting inside with your music turned on, three hours would be swift before landing at a midpoint eatery and the rates were pretty elusive. Good business up ahead and just prepare enough bucks. Seafood meals were way expensive in Cebu and the meals were served in a glorious way (cheaper, actually). It was pretty dark outside but undoubtedly, you feel the ambiance beyond those territories.

I forgot the name and we all guessed the owner to be an Islam follower with all tarpaulins about Islam. It was really perfect since they label their meals well for Muslims. A friend of mine doesn't eat pork and it was pretty convenient for her.

The comfort rooms had donation boxes and is not something new for travelers. The rates you pay are not enough to cover for their maintenance costs. Delving to the sublayers of the costs, delivery from A to B can be really hefty. Well, tourism is an edge of Palawan nonetheless.

The rest of the pack waited for us while we gnawed our food. The empty stomach knows no more rules, even wallet considerations. The three hour ride to this midpoint eatery was too hot to handle. Everything was very palatable granting an empty stomach.

The people were in deep slumber while my eyes remained wide awake. Using some camphor or menthol applications, I used it several times in the sojourn. I had weird and random motion sickness issues. I forgot to drink my bonamine tablet (an hour earlier) and good thing the white flower oil was perfect to ease out motion anxieties.

It was totally dark. Really dark that the modern sceneries are too flashy compared to the silence of the natural forests. What I just noticed were other vans transporting other tourists from the airport.

A total of six hours was the length we had to travel. Signals were too shaky to capture data and even to check my MAP. The driver remained focused and forgot to at least label each boundary we got into. Nevertheless, we see on a larger the scale the entire map which has larger areas per municipality.

The over-all experience was satisfactory and highly safe. The van drivers were very hospitable and the night time urged him to deliver us safely to Tay Miloy's inn. We paid 100 pesos for the terminal; he explained how angry the tricycle drivers are if they directly deliver the tourists to each of their inns and hotels.

If you got questions, let me know. I'll be really happy to help.

Dumaguete for travelers

You know what,  writing this down induces electricity down my spine.

Cutting to the chase, Dumaguete was a beautiful place. I admired the distance (167.0 km) and the cultural remnants which are photogenic and charismatic. Surely, yes.

But the memories I've had? An eye sore. I've put the holy red flag in that place that never will I ever go back again. NEVER AGAIN.

Being a traveler makes you bubbly and you make the best bubbly words in town. You can raise the dead and you can surely water the plants practically.  In my own little way, I've managed to write this post amidst flashing montages of a failed relationship.

Yes. A failed relationship and a failure to step on the break. Breathe in and out. Think. Meditate. Drink coffee. Wander once and for all what the next 5 years will be without that TOTGA (the one that got away).

Pain and disappointment were emotional registers of Dumaguete. 

YEAH you're right. The Boulevard makes you dine in and out and the luscious pastry shops never failed me an inch. I have loved the place in a span of a 100 meter radius. The old churches and the elliptically swiveled long chairs were picture-perfect spots. 

When you travel, you will embrace anonymity. Being a nobody mattered a lot to the genetic make-up of a traveler. I have never dreamed to be a public figure. Not in my wildest dreams. 

In Dumaguete, it became evidently true. My presence became a minuscule. The crowd was too hot to handle being the last one to know that it was the Buglasan Festival. A simultaneous event with Bacolod's Masskara Festival made me floating. I could've booked a flight for the next day to Bacolod and bathed in the remaining hours--then go back to Cebu the next day. 

The good days were expected but the bad days fought for its glory. My two-year relationship was vigorously shaken. We yelled at each other at the middle of a long queue of vehicles wanting to park near the town center. I called it 'quits' since I walked out the car, and walked furiously far from the epicenter. 

It was a first time. I acknowledged my ego and refused to communicate with them. My anger got the best of me and it opened my eyes that I was indeed that lone molecule trying to find my way back to the hotel where we packed up. I lacked the time to put scrutiny with geographical cues and good thing it was near the port to Cebu. 

At that instant, I stayed long enough in the middle thinking all at once what life would be by traveling solo. The tricycles, the primary mode of transport in Dumaguete, were moving only to one direction and I may have the language advantage but it did not sway them to deliver me back to Cebu or to the hotel.

I was in a completely different place with a soul filled with anger and disappointment. Calling my mother would be also futile since science limits teleportation and wormholes. 

The loud music coming from the town center made me reflect at how loneliness felt. The entire province rejoiced with each of its amenities and delicacies and I was staring blankly amidst Bayawan City's tarpaulin (where my mother grew up and where I spent childhood years happily). 

The night was young and it tempted me to think of riding the best bus to Bacolod and forget everything. It made me scatter and think of a midnight train to a distant planet where my presence will be too tiny to notice. I wanted to shrink and forget the moment. 

A brokenhearted traveler and a loosening wanderlust made me decide to go back home the next day. All the party thoughts of traveling to Bacolod diffused in a glance and the night was enjoyed with a deep slumber in a boat labeled 'homebound'. 

Dumaguete remains to be a vicious contestant in the middle region of the Philippines--but not for me emotionally. 

Iloilo and I miss you..

What will you get by squatting when you can live and breathe the same air as the natives?

Not that you forget your cultural inheritance or your tattooed ties but when you travel, it's way above the photos you upload to impress the IG community. A picture can paint a thousand words and living the portrait spells more adventures and FUN.

I've lived personally in Iloilo for three years. I started out as a naive Cebuano with a flexi diglossia: tagalog-english-cebuano. It's by the blood how tagalog is not a comfort zone for most Cebuanos. I personally didn't imagine myself riding my first jeep to Miagao with a bunch of weird painted accents from people.

I know traveling and exploring and they can be deeper pages. The music of Eagles and Hotel california were normal playlist tunes  uproaring that single ride from Iloilo City to Miagao. (Repeat until fade)

I'd say, baptizing myself as a wanderer had its earlier toll on me: being away from home spelled homesickness.

Why in the world would you pack your bags to a foreign terrain with no sponsors to assure your survival in the hunger games? A crazy guy with no goals in mind and a broken heart were quintessential.

The impetus went on smooth. The lack of verdict and direction and the spur of the foreign feeling away from my homebase made me learn a different language and a totally different accent.

I wasn't really a die hard fan of selfies and that's surely factual and historical acclaiming technological deprivation. I ran with no photos and no instagram accounts.

It was a life-changing moment to live and breathe the ilonggo life. Tons of people, wonderful people who never shed a pinch of their angst--you know accents can be deceiving too.

The traveler that I was became a reality and not just the photographer's dream. I learned to differentiate the 'karon' in Bisaya and 'karon' in ilonggo which have very misleading connotations . You surely don't get this by staying for 3 days in the urban areas. Yes. I lived in Miagao and eventually learned to hiss Kinaray-a which was even more exotic and expletive in its tone.

Life was pretty easy yet costed much from my sponsors: my parents and no other people.

Imagine a town that plays the angelus at 6pm and thereafter, the Burger Machine and one all-around Bakeshop for crammers  remain the only lights in the darkness. Rush hours linger until quarter to 6 where money centers for aliens like me aim to reach. It was a religious ruling and I had to bow to its rules. As if I had a choice.

The sweet people of Miagao, Iloilo remain beautiful memories. The awesome beach near my home and the darkness made me feel subtle with letting go of Tagalog and marking the Ilonggo attempt to communicate more with its locals.

The life of a traveler remains a mystery if you don't stay and live in it. You remain a distant gazer with nothing but desires to take glimpses. The mystery is unveiled if you learn to speak like them and know the cheapest places to eat and dine.

I am missing those tons of coloured accents and the hotel california tunes which I can only manage through youtube. It remains magical and floating that those 3 years were too fast to unfold.

I am missing Iloilo and the camaraderies I've spent time with and loved.

I remain a wanderer and a hybrid of Ilonggo and Cebuano by heart.