Gelene

- Cavern Diving – Tulum, Mexico – May 2024
  
  Posted at 2:40 pm by Gelene Celis, on August 25, 2024
  Yes, I’m aware the music is Brazilian (capoiera), not Mexican nor even Spanish.
  
  It’s “É da Nossa Cor (featuring Mestre Camaleão)” by Maga Bo.
  
  I have no logic behind as to why I used it except for that it felt right and sometimes with art, just as with Life, sometimes our intuition is all we need to keep us in our paths.
  
  I’ve felt all kinds of things in these caverns which is why I keep going back though the biggest bit is probably my first time back sometime in the early 2010’s.
  
  I don’t know if there’s an English word for it but my friend calls it “Fitrah” which in Arabic means something along the lines of (no direct translation) “original disposition” or “innate nature” which can also flow along the lines of “intuition.”
  
  She introduced me to this word when I was listening to music that moved me so profoundly that I wanted to shed a tear as I felt like my heart was being lifted. She said, “That’s ‘fitrah!’ It loosely translates to ‘Woah!’ in English.” lol
  
  Another good way to express it was when I watched, “A Trip to Infinity.” A woman described why she studied infinity. She says, and I quote, “We’re so small and yet we can touch something so explosively large that feeling of ‘I’m bigger because I know how small I am,’ I’ve been chasing that feeling my entire life.”
  
  img courtesy of Gaines County Library
  
  That’s how Dos Ojos made me feel the first time around when I pointed my flashlight into the darkness within those caverns.
  
  I chase that feeling whenever I have the chance and so I keep coming back to Tulum.
  
  Someday, I, too, shall pass and that’s a beautiful thing. I cherish my mortality. I’m not goth anymore so I have no further aspirations in becoming a vampire.
  
  ========================
  
  I went in with the intentions of having 5 dive days as I had a total of 6 full days (8 days total vacation with 2 flight days).
  
  I did an intense workout right up until before my flight. I had an inkling that might not be a good idea but I did it, thinking maybe I can pull it off anyway.
  
  Wrong. lol
  
  I popped by the shop on Dive Day 1. I already felt tired from the day before (intense workout + flight). Jamie, the shop owner of Flying Fish Tulum advised that his equipment are all new / well-maintained. Most dive shops have scraggly wetsuits lol with 3mm feeling like 1mm sometimes so I didn’t bring my own 3mm wetsuit.
  
  Right then I told him that 5 dive days might just be 4, “I’ll see how I feel.”
  
  Casa Cenote
  
  We started off with Casa Cenote (“Cenote House”) which, as I was informed is a training / starter cenote. I didn’t have the chance to exchange currency before then so I wasn’t able to take my GoPro. All cenotes allow for it except this one; there was a MX$100 fee for using your own camera so here are random ones I got off the internet. It was pretty (but not quite as pretty as the others so defo a good teaser for ones who’ve never been to the cenotes).
  
  courtesy of Mexico Cenote and Ruins
  
  courtesy of Scuba Tulum
  
  courtesy of Awe 365
  
  Courtesy of “The Cenote Guy”
  
  I didn’t realize that this one was a lot of saltwater as most of the cenotes are mostly freshwater. I needed 10 lbs of weight to sink lol which was a lot. I’ve never had that much and the divemasters pointed out that I’m wearing a 5mm, which, I hated by the way. It felt so constrictive but I might also be in between sizes type thing.
  
  In any case, we headed over to Dos Ojos – I was excited, albeit nervous. I almost drowned in the ocean a couple years ago. It only came to my awareness how much trauma that actually induced during my trip to the Philippines last December. It sucks because it essentially puts a dent in your anticipation. I’ve never done acid but from what I gather if you go in with a shit headspace then you’ll have a bad trip. It’s similar to diving, I think.
  
  Dos Ojos – Bat Cave
  
  On our ride to Dos Ojos, they asked me if I wanted to go to the Bat Cave Line or the Barbie Line. We intended on going again for one of the other lines anyway so I was pretty “meh doesn’t matter” … and so were they lol.
  
  “Pick a number. 1 or 2?” I asked
  
  “Two,” replied Miranda.
  
  “Bat Cave it is.” I replied.
  
  My main dive guide was Mario although Miranda (they’re a couple) would come here and there. She’s actually from Toronto and she started out scuba diving in drysuit because it’s cold out here in Ontario.
  
  They’re also full-on cave divers. These places we’re diving that are easily accessible to the public (with the correct training and licensing of course), are caverns. Caverns are like caves except they have openings/access/exit points just within a few minutes for every spot or tunnel. Caves, on the other hand, are long tunnels and cave systems that have no openings for a looooong time.
  
  The dive shop I went to these cenotes with 2 years ago actually coaxed me into taking cave diving specialty because they saw how much I loved it. I contacted the guy and he gave me a quick rundown of the course. It was already iffy (price: expensive, time: a month or something and it’s daily diving of about 8 hours each day) but he lost me at, “Learning how to stay calm in zero visibility with sediment and no openings for 3-4 hours.”
  lol.
  Fuck that shit.
  
  “Wait a minute, you guys are full on cave divers? Like you go into crawl spaces and stuff?” I asked.
  
  “Yeah,” Miranda replied.
  
  “Holy shit. I’ve watched documentaries about you people.”
  
  🤯
  
  “They say it takes a special kind of crazy to be a cave diver.” said Miranda.
  
  “Yeah. I would agree with that,” I replied. I started calling her “psycho bunny” because I can’t keep calling her “insane” etc; that’s boring. Plus she keeps her cute on despite the extreme sport she gets involved so it seems appropriate.
  
  If you’d like to creep Miranda’s profile, you may check out her Instagram here.
  
  Mario’s Instagram is here (they’re both cave divers so both their accounts are pretty juicy… well, at least to me).
  
  This Bat Cave dive didn’t go very smoothly for me. I’ve never worn a 5mm wetsuit and I found out that I hated it.
  
  Going in the bat caves was alright although I struggled with my buoyancy. The shallower the waters, the more difficult it is to control. The deepest we went on this was about 9 metres / 29 ft. If you look closely, you’ll see me struggling.
  
  On most cenotes we went to, there would almost always be an opening within a matter of a few minutes. I think the tunnels on this one was a bit longer than that? I can’t do several hours of cave diving with no openings but I, along with many other tourists, are okay with a several minutes of no opening.
  
  After going through the beautiful tunnels… (and yes, without our flashlights, it would’ve been pitch black. It was cool)
  
  … we end up here (the actual bat cave)
  
  I’ve been to Dos Ojos several times but I don’t remember coming here. I think we always went to the Barbie Line, prior?
  
  In any case, we actually got out of the water pretty early onto the snorkel area vs where we entered because my buoyancy and my exhaustion was not fun.
  
  Cenote El Pit
  
  I was exhausted AF once we got back to the shop so I canceled for the next day.
  
  I craved vegetarian food, which I usually don’t unless it’s so fricking hot that I have to force feed myself because my body then protects itself from overheating by holding my appetite (happened to me in the Philippines). I do force feed myself though when I realize that I haven’t eaten at all that day because I will inadvertently go into ketosis.
  
  I asked the dive shop for some recommendations and the closest one was La Hoja Verde. This one was actually vegan. It’s right on the corner of Ave. Tulum and C Beta Sur. I’m not a vegan or anything but I highly recommend this place. I did some rough calculations in my head (because I used to be one of those obsessive people with my nutrition thanks to my injured spine) and you can actually get a good dose of your macros, including much needed protein, in some of their dishes.
  
  La Hoja Verde Tulum
  
  One the next dive day, we decided to do El Pit and Dos Ojos again for the Barbie Line.
  
  We started off with El Pit. It was just Mario and I that day as Miranda was doing remote work.
  
  Mario and I, on our way to the next cave dive 🤙
  
  It was a good ride. Mario, as I found out, used to DJ and is very well versed with electronic music. We listened to some tracks on our way. I highly recommend these guys to dive with. Besides their technical prowess, you will also get some education, creative expansion, and overall enjoyable company.
  
  During our setup, I asked Mario to take a video. I often get asked about diving and what it entails. It’s fun, sure… but it’s work. Everything in life takes work. As per a recent conversation with a friend, it’s about finding those things and/or people that make it worth it. Like, no, I don’t like overheating and walking under the sun in a suit with so much weight on me but to cavern dive and experience these things: to me, it’s worth it.
  
  As for El Pit: I was still having trouble with my buoyancy so I wasn’t able to fully enjoy it, unfortunately. Mario had to hold me at one point because I kept, inadvertently, ascending. I canceled going in the little cave at the back of the pit because I couldn’t control my buoyancy. Granted, I still enjoyed the earth matter accumulated over the years, on the bottom of the pit, as well as the view. 😍
  
  There was also visible signs of the halocline effect (when freshwater meets saltwater, it gets blurry. Heads up: it can be a little disorienting though it only lasts a few seconds on certain parts where the waters meet).
  
  After which, we headed to Dos Ojos to do the Barbie Line.
  
  Dos Ojos – Barbie Line (Take 1)
  
  I still couldn’t control my buoyancy, which I was thoroughly irritated with.
  
  Mario and Miranda were very nice to remind me to not be too hard on myself. It’s funny that they mentioned it because I often get that. I had a pretty militant upbringing which I’m currently healing from as an adult.
  
  Sometimes growth is about unlearning in order to re-learn just like how I want to unlearn that trauma so I can rejig my mojo.
  
  I tried Dos Ojos again, this time on the Barbie Line, because I was super excited for it but my buoyancy, was not. This is why I decided to make this “dive” a buoyancy correcting trip instead. I insisted with Mario to just stay in the snorkel area because I wasn’t confident enough to go in… and practice we did.
  
  I actually managed to get my buoyancy down. I just needed a little bit of practice… but I lost my mother.effing.GoPro. 🤬
  
  I was pretty upset. The camera was attached to an unsinkable stick so when we couldn’t find it (we asked everyone in the area including the gatekeepers), I assumed it was stolen and that I will never get it back though I kept trying.
  
  I gave myself another rest day at some point, making it 4 dive days instead of 5. I just don’t remember if it was after this one or the next one.
  
  We came back here on the next dive day though.
  
  Dos Ojos – Barbie Line (Take 2 and 3)
  
  So I don’t have any footage of Take 2 because I was camera-less.
  
  We searched and asked around before going in and then right before we ascended, I insisted on searching for it around the entrance area once more… and he found my GoPro. I was so happy 😭
  
  The Take 3, however, did not pan out either. I specifically went back in to get footage but no dice.
  
  The Barbie Line is beautiful. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to finish this dive as I canceled it because I was exhausted. I mean, I was already thinking of what to eat and what to do when I got home and such. I specifically craved nachos and margaritas as I dreamed of blasting my AC in my comfortable, budget room 😂
  
  Since Mario was so well-versed on the geology, I went ahead and asked questions because I actually find these things interesting especially when I’m there. Experiential learning (vs plain theory) still takes the cake for me.
  
  Cenote Aktun-Ha (also known as Cenote Carwash)
  
  I specifically asked to do this one because when I attempted to do this 2 years ago, I couldn’t equalize my ears properly so I had to ascend early.
  
  It was gorgeous.
  
  Here’s about 50 minutes of unedited footage (after a few minutes of intro). I kept the camera on the entire time, mounted on my head. In case you want to experience an entire dive, this would be the video.
  
  Cenote Nicte-Ha
  
  I think we dropped off Miranda after Aktun-Ha? If you guys are reading this and you remember the timeline of events, let me know so I can correct it.
  
  Mario decided to take me here because my buoyancy was good. As I found out during the dive, this one had tight spaces (well, tight for recreational divers like me and probably nothing for pro cave divers). One could easily hit the stalactites and cause too much disturbance to the elements if your buoyancy is a hot mess.
  
  This one was has a special story.
  
  img by Descubro.mx
  
  There are seemingly many versions of it as legends tend to be, but the one that was narrated to me, personally, was about Nicte-Ha, a beautiful maiden who was bound to be wed to a prince.
  Apparently, however, the priest who was appointed to wed them, fell in love with Nicte-Ha and have decided to kill her instead (if I can’t have you, no one can, sort of serial killer vibes). The Prince, in mourning and very heartbroken, prayed to the Gods for help. He was heard by the Gods and they told him that they would help… by killing him and then turning him into a red cardinal bird.
  
  You can see these birds visit the water lilies, which the Gods have turned Nicte-Ha into, everyday.
  
  Beautiful 💕
  
  I would argue that these legends are glimpses to our subconscious in the ways the stories unfold. As an old friend once said when things happen, “It’s the paradigm of the situation that matters.”
  
  Everything is ultimately transient including the motions we experience. What stays? The lessons? Our characters? Our lives?
  
  It’s such a mystery, isn’t it?
  
  the view underwater
  
  And so we went on to further explore the caverns, perhaps, with a nuanced intention of hoping to further explore ourselves.
  
  The water was actually pretty chilly although you stop noticing it once you start the dive. I didn’t feel any dive fatigues or post dive hunger during this trip aside from this one and Aktun-Ha. I think it was because we were down there for a little over an hour (!). The waters were shallow enough (about 6 metres / 20 ft maximum depth) that one tank could last that long. I still had a little air left when we ascended.
  
  I felt the fatigue, literally, as soon as my head surfaced. I gave myself a good break after that: had a cigarette, ate good food, had a beer at home, blasted my AC, and chilled, chilled, chilled.
  
  I do recall this being my last dive though I didn’t really pack up until the next morning.
  
  As to what I brought (people ask):
  – GoPro + accessories (unsinkable stick, screws, head mount, hand mount + extra batteries)
  – 4 tops, 2 or 3 bottoms + 2 summer dresses
  – 2 bikini pairs
  – toiletries
  – passport, ID’s, phone, wallet etc
  
  It took me like 15 minutes to pack so it wasn’t a big deal. I stayed at a hostel in a private room at Che Tulum Hostel & Bar.
  Note: Don’t book the shared or dorm-like rooms unless you’re in your 20’s, looking to party all night, and not sleep until 4 or 5 am. The private rooms are actually right across the street from the hostel and bar itself and oh man, the party never stopped there. You can hear the music even when you’re outside the complex. Again, if you’re looking to par-taaay, the shared rooms would be the place for you.
  
  These days, I just want my peace and quiet. When I travel, one of the things I like to do is to try and immerse myself in cultural things because part of doing this, for me, is to expand my consciousness. We never really get to know a culture until we feel (subconscious/instinctive) how they see the world. All this talk is just theory (conscious/executive) without the immersive experiences and real talk that both contribute to our emotional intelligence and self-expansion.
  I didn’t really get to do that here though. I came to Tulum specifically to dive the caverns and when I return, it’ll be the same thing. Tulum has turned somewhat bougie as people caught on the caverns I suppose. I first came here over 10 years ago when it was all just jungle. Granted, there weren’t as many food options or other convenient touristy things (I got a manicure and an in-home massage myself).
  
  El Carro de Pecho (street vendor near my place – delicious burgers)
  
  If I had it my way, I would’ve kept it communal and low key although, as some expat Belgian I met in my early 20’s a long time ago when I was travelling had said, “It’s my fault too.”
  
  We were talking about how an island in the Philippines was getting too industrialized and polluted. He interrupted me at one point and said that yes, it would be nicer if it was a small community which is what we all actually want but we also want air conditioning so in a sense, we paved the way for its ruin though it wasn’t our intention.
  
  Everything is a double-edged sword and he’s right: we’re all part of the problem. I think the key is making efforts to minimize damages as we try not to compromise our standards and quality of Life. I mean, scuba diving in the ocean and even in these caverns alone are already disturbing the elements in itself. Try not to ruin anything when you’re down there. Remember that we’re just passing by and humans are the species on this planet that have caused the greatest damage. We’ve successfully abused, trampled, and destroy so much of Mother Nature and we can barely afford to pay her back.
  
  We, as humans, in my opinion, aren’t entitled at all.
  
  The conversion rate (if you’re talking about USD, CAD, EUR, GBP, AUD or other developed economies’ currencies) doesn’t really work in our favour anymore either. The pricing is listed in MXN Peso but when you convert it, it’s the same price as it is back home.
  
  Gas prices are the same everywhere I go. It blows my mind because I complain about the same gas prices in Toronto.
  
  I just hope the locals know and understand what beauty they have because I, myself, didn’t appreciate the beauties of my own country (Philippines) up until we left and saw it, objectively. I grew up in close proximity to some of the most amazing beaches in the world and it was just my “normal.”
  
  Apo Island, Philippines
  
  There’s this film with Childish Gambino and Rihanna called “Guava Island.” At one point, Childish Gambino’s character was complaining and Rihanna was asking him what his problem was. His problem, as he so eloquently put, is that they’re living in paradise but they don’t have the time nor the money to enjoy it because he’s working for a factory, which is polluting their island.
  
  Please be a responsible adventurer. I’ve heard so many stories of divers straight up stepping on corals, polluting the waters, and not caring about what mess they might leave = not cool.
  
  While I don’t have answers to the woes of the world, I hope that I was at least able to give you something worthwhile to see, read, laugh, and think about – and perhaps even something to be inspired about – fellow traveller.
  
  Until next time.
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  Posted in Arts & Culture, Travel | 0 Comments | Tagged aktun-ha, asia, casa cenote, cave, cave diving, cavern diving, caverns, cenotes, dos ojos, el pit, gopro, mayan, mexico, nicete-ha, north america, philippines, scuba, scuba dive, scuba diving, toronto, tourism, Travel, travel guide, tropical, tulum, vegan, vegetarian, yucatan, yucatan peninsula
- Philippines – Dec ’23 to Jan ’24: Foreword
  
  Posted at 9:53 am by Gelene Celis, on March 17, 2024
  My family immigrated to Toronto, Canada on March 9, 2001.
  
  I remember looking at the weather report before our flight and seeing a negative sign (-) before the “1” on the Celsius. I processed that it was minus 1 but I didn’t believe my logic, thinking there must be another explanation.
  “No, it’s below 0°C. The temperature there right now is below 0,” said my mother as we watched from our television in Quezon City, Metro Manila.
  
  “What the fuck? What does that even feel like?” I thought.
  
  I wore jeans, a long-sleeved shirt and brought one of those puffy jackets that my aunt had sent in from New York (she’s already been living there for about 5 years or so by the time we got the papers to bounce). I wore it in the Philippines and immediately started sweating. I thought that must be more than enough because it was so thick and insulated. I was proven wrong when we landed.
  
  Before we arrived, however, we were bombarded with in-flight ads for antidepressants and I remember thinking, “WTF? Is it that bad out here? I thought these people were living better lives and here we are getting away from a developing country. Aren’t these guys a major key player nation? I don’t get it.”
  I didn’t get it until I got depressed myself, for years. Right around the time I started healing, I realized that the problem wasn’t depression; it’s spiritual poverty.
  
  But I didn’t know that yet when I tested the stinky, puffy jacket once we landed. As we waited for our ride, I decided to wear the jacket and momentarily step outside to get a feel of -1°C.
  Once I stepped out, I couldn’t move. I was so cold. I remember not wanting my skin to touch my clothes which turned ice cold. I counted down from 10 to -1 before I mustered the courage to run back to the airport.
  
  I remember seeing the piles of snow, neatly tucked and mounded on the lawn areas in the suburbs. I knew snow didn’t fall like that but I couldn’t understand then how the city managed to “organize the snow.” The Philippines doesn’t nearly have the budget nor the kind of facilities and technology to be ready for such things. I’ve only ever lived in Southeast Asia before then so I couldn’t fathom these ideas at the time.
  
  Fast forward 23 years later, I went back to the motherland a very different person and then went back to Toronto afterward, also a little different.
  
  One of the first things I did when I arrived back in Toronto was dispose of about a third of my wardrobe and several other items. I’ve been holding on to them thinking that they might, eventually, be useful but it’s been years since I even bothered interacting with these things. It just didn’t make any sense anymore.
  
  After living off a backpack and a personal bag item for a month, constantly on the road (or on a flight or on a boat), interacting with locals and indigenous tribes who live richer lives with much less, I realized how much bullshit, nonsense, and excess I have allowed to accumulate in my life.
  
  I brought a 45-liter hiking backpack (any larger and I would’ve needed to check it in which I was avoiding), a small sling bag, and a foldable water-resistant bag that I packed in. I didn’t have room to bring my own wetsuit, unfortunately (it’s just more comfortable for me plus rental ones tend to be worn out like a 3mm wetsuit ends up feeling like a 1mm or less lol) but I did manage to pack a GoPro with an underwater housing with some accessories, a dive mask, and my dive watch.
  
  I actually overpacked. Imagine that lol.
  
  Here’s a good chunk of my luggage:
  – 5 tops (tank and shirts)
  – 4 bottoms (all shorts)
  – 4 pieces of bras (I used my bikini tops as bras sometimes)
  – 6 underwear
  – 7 pairs of socks (thinking that I’ll be sweating all the time but then I got there and I didn’t wanna wear closed shoes – I wore sandals the entire time and only used my sneakers in the plane to and from Canada). I got rid of 5 of them during the middle of the trip (donated to hotel staff)
  – 3 bikini tops, 3 bikini bottoms
  – sandals (order true to size as I ordered half a size larger and it was a little too big)
  – toiletry bag
  – money belt (the type you can hide under your clothing)
  – GoPro accessory bag with the camera and some of the accessories (half of which I didn’t use)
  
  I wore a sweater and a t-shirt with capri pants for the flight to and from Toronto. I never used capri pants when I was in the country (too hot that I just wore shorts) and I only ever used the sweater when I was in the mountains. It took up so much space it was a hassle.
  I did laundry a total of about 3 times in a month… and no, I didn’t bring a towel. Never needed to until I got to Buscalan (Whang-Od, the old lady tattooist’s village). I bought a $5 CAD / 200 PHP microfibre towel at a local mall that I was going to use for just that night.
  
  As for being a solo female traveller: I’ve just done it so many times at this point that it wasn’t even something that I was that worried about. It’s only the second time I backpacked though, like ever, and solo. I did bring a portable door lock and someone advised me about putting some hot sauce in a spray container (brilliant) because I can’t bring pepper spray on board. I never had to use it though I kept it in hand for times when I was freaking out since I was, statistically speaking, a perpetrator’s best bet. Other than that, I was actually walking in the dark, at night, during some points in the more rural areas where people are less corrupt. The rule of thumb is that the bigger the population, the more likely you are to get ripped off. I got ripped off a total of probably about $50 CAD (2,000 PHP). In the Philippines, that can get you about 5 decent meals, public transportation for getting around in a city for a day, possibly a souvenir or two, and a pack of cigarettes.
  
  Yes, I was smoking (again) because scuba divers smoke like fucking chimneys. I know you would think otherwise because we need healthy lungs but I suppose some rules don’t apply like how the Badjaus (indigenous peoples in Southeast Asia, some of which reside in the Philippines) are sea gypsies who spearfish while freediving in the ocean, expertly so that they have actually developed larger spleens to hold more oxygen. They, too, smoke like fucking chimneys.
  
  “Ay yan ho mga Badjau (Oh there are the Badjaus!)” said the cab driver from one of my trips to the airport. He was pointing out to beggars during traffic.
  “Badjaus? Hindi po ba sila sa dagat nakatira? Sikat ho yun dun sa North America kasi nandun sila sa National Geographic. People are in awe of their abilities. (Badjaus? Don’t they live near the oceans? They’re popular in North America because they’re in National Geographic and BBC. People are in awe of their abilities,” I said.
  
  “Ah ‘pag wala silang kita sa pangingisda, nagpupunta ho sila dito sa Maynila para malimus. Wala kasi silang alam na gawin kundi yun at wala rin silang suporta sa gobyerno. Alam naming native sila tsaka minsan nakakaawa pero napeperwisyo rin ang mga tao dito kasi tayo nagtra-trabaho at sila malaking kita sa pagmamalimos (Ah when they don’t earn anything on fishing or spearfishing, they come here to Manila to be beggars. They don’t have any other skills but that and they don’t have support from the government. We know they’re indigenous and sometimes we pity them but sometimes they’re a hassle too because we work hard and meanwhile they earn decent money on begging alone).” the cab driver replied.
  
  Developing larger spleens to hold more oxygen is essentially the closest thing to being a mutant like X-Men or something as far as advanced genetic mutations go… and somehow, they’re beggars.
  
  I told one of my friends about this while we were out for drinks.
  
  Lotsa real talk with friends I haven’t seen in over a decade!
  
  “Parang hindi accurate yung pinapakita nila sa Nat Geo/BBC, (It seems that National Geographic/BBC doesn’t paint the whole picture),” Roger said.
  “Yeah,” I replied. “I’m gonna write about it. People need to know.”
  My friend nodded in agreement.
  
  And so my physical, mental, and emotional journey began, uncovering truths along the way, some of which, to be honest, I was not ready for but grateful to have known nonetheless.
  
  It has been a privilege just as much as I gained more awareness of how privileged I am.
  
  Trip Itinerary
  
  Dec 8 – Dec 9:
  Dubai (layover)
  
  Dec 9 – Dec 11:
  Manila (inadvertent layover)
  
  Dec 11 – Dec 16:
  Malapascua, Cebu (scuba diving, alone with fellow tourists)
  
  Dec 16 – Dec 18:
  Manila (friends and family)
  
  Dec 18 – Dec 20:
  San Juan, La Union (surfing, family and friend)
  
  Dec 20 – Dec 21:
  Manila (family)
  
  Dec 21 – Dec 22:
  Sablayan (town to access scuba diving island, surprise cultural delights!)
  
  Dec 22 – Dec 24:
  Apo Reef / Apo Island (diving, alone with fellow tourists)
  
  Dec 24 – Dec 25:
  San Jose, Mindoro (town after diving, transit back to Manila)
  
  Dec 25 – Dec 27:
  San Fernando, Pampanga (Filipino Christmas lanterns, alone)
  
  Dec 27 – Dec 30:
  Manila (friends and family)
  
  Dec 30 – Jan 1:
  Buscalan, Tinglayan, Kalinga (Whang-Od and hiking, alone with fellow local tourists)
  
  Jan 1 – Jan 3:
  Sagada (mountains hiking, alone added by a fellow local tourist)
  
  Jan 3 – Jan 5:
  Manila (friends)
  
  ==============================
  
  I saw some family and some old friends whom I hadn’t seen in well over a decade, some I hadn’t seen in about 25 years. Those may not be necessarily in my entries as they are the learnings for me and may be too personal to share. If I mention them, it’s because I feel there might be some universal lessons that others may pick up.
  
  If I mention friends whom I interacted with, it’s because they were part of conversations that had a broader topic that I’d like to share.
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  Posted in Arts & Culture, Travel | 0 Comments | Tagged asia, backpacking, badjau, indigenous, manila, philippines, poverty, safety, southeast asia, Travel
- Philippines: Part 1 – Cebu
  
  Posted at 2:30 pm by Gelene Celis, on March 15, 2024
  Manila (NAIA)
  
  My first stop was Malapascua, Cebu. There are international flights in Cebu but I decided that this was my first stop after I had bought the tickets to Manila. Duh.
  
  In any case, I arrived at the airport and the first things I did were get a local SIM Card (I opted for Smart with unlimited Data, 100 minutes talk, 100 minutes text for 30 days for ₱2,000 / $50 CAD – their plans are so much better than in Canada). After which, I walked around for the best exchange rates to get some cash. Word to the wise, if you’re scuba diving or doing a lot of other things in rural areas in the Philippines: get twice as much cash than you think you might need because most places don’t accept card nor Apple Pay. GCash, which is like Venmo in the US (Canada’s more on direct transfers via email) is widely accepted but if you don’t have a Filipino permanent address reflected on one of your official ID’s, you essentially can’t sign up for it.
  
  I opened Grab, which is like Asia’s Uber. I tried to order my first ride to the hotel, which was only 5 minutes away, but it asked for confirmation on my Visa which was attached to my Canadian phone number. I ultimately ended up calling my bank to change the number over to my Filipino SIM card but that didn’t happen until later.
  
  Kanto
  
  “Kanto” in Tagalog means “corner” so it’s like a shop by the corner type thing. Yes, I was up by 5am. My flight was around 8 and I was jetlagged.
  
  The next day, I ordered breakfast using Grab. Oh man I was too excited with the pandesals and Filipino food!
  
  I was too excited that I didn’t realize that these were plant-based. I have no qualms with plant-based but I thought the serving would’ve been bigger. In any case I ordered a couple of items.
  
  Ah! I remember the feeling of sitting there and anticipating the delivery. The hotel had a dining area but my booking didn’t come with free breakfast + their hours weren’t conducive to my flight time.
  
  I knew I was ordering something that was, probably, by local standards, expensive… but I didn’t care. It’s not that I’m rich but the exchange rate worked in my favour and I saved up for this trip. I’m pretty meticulous with my money (annoyingly so sometimes) and I can be particular with my spending.
  
  For reference, roughly:
  ₱40 = $1 CAD
  ₱50 = $1USD
  ₱60 = €1
  
  After eating, I checked out and headed to the airport.
  
  Cebu
  
  Honestly, besides the flight, there is nothing nor anything official that is on Google that will help you get around. I found my way by reading other blogs and an advice from a friend. So, here’s how to get to Malapascua:
  
  image by Blue Heaven Malapascua
  1. Fly from Manila to Mactan Airport
  2. Get a cab (or a Grab ride) to the Cebu North Bus Terminal – 45ish minutes
  3. Take a van or bus to Maya Port – 2-3 hours
  4. Take a boat to Malapascua – 45ish minutes
  The Cebuano from Medelin
  
  The cab I got actually dropped me off at an area to the side of the terminal. It’s really not advisable to go anywhere unofficial but… it felt right, so I did it. I was the last passenger in the van and the seat I got wasn’t even a proper seat. It was a box right beside one of the seats by the sliding door. It turned out to be a great ride as I had a very insightful conversation with a local from Medellin, Cebu.
  “May lahi ka ba? (Are you mixed?)” he asked. The direct translation would’ve been “Do you have a race?” lol. It’s one of those things that doesn’t make any sense if you translate it word for word.
  “Wala. Pilipino lang. Pero lahat naman tayo may lahi. (No. Just Filipino. But we’re all mixed, really).” I replied.
  He nodded. “Mukha ka kasing mestiza (It’s ’cause you look half – either white or Spanish though “mestiza is traditionally referred to Spanish as it stemmed from during those times).”
  Yes, I’m aware of how I look. I’m always going on about colonial mentality which is significantly rampant in Filipino culture (whitening creams, ashamed of accents and/or flat nose etc) though I see the irony on my behalf because like he said, I look mestiza (and while I still detect a little bit of an accent specially when I’m inebriated lol I mostly sound North American these days). It’s not my fault though and since I reap the social (sometimes industrial) advantages, the least I can do is acknowledge it.
  Beauty is, arguably, another tool like money and power along with other materialistic things. I’m not beyond vanity, mind you. I do body mods after all since that is my definition of beauty for myself.
  
  =========================================
  
  Malapascua Island
  
  I was immediately greeted by a canvasser when we got off the boat. He was trying to promote island hopping and another dive shop but I had already booked with Johandive which had lodging and a dive shop. I figured to do that to make life a little easier for myself since I was diving anyway… but things never turn out the way we plan, most especially when you’re backpacking.
  
  There are no modes of transportation on the island because it’s so small, except for motorbikes where you hop on the back and they put your luggage or backpack in the front. I opted for that in the beginning because… I didn’t know what I was doing lol. When I found out that the lodging was only a 10-15 minute walk from the port, I stopped going on rides and just walked. I usually mix electrolytes with my drink (get a sugar-free one like Biosteel, which is super effective) which was much needed here; super hot and humid.
  
  it’s funny yeah like I actually barely ate during this trip; so much so that I felt myself, inadvertently, going in a ketosis state that afternoon. It’s not a bad thing but if you’re not deliberately doing keto, your brain gets confused and insomnia or keto insomnia becomes a thing. I don’t know the exact science but I’ve done keto for years to know that if I don’t fully commit to it, I’m essentially gonna have problems with sleeping. I was already still jetlagged so I loaded up on carbs just to get myself out of that state.
  As I found out, when it’s too hot, your body decreases your appetite to protect itself from overheating. I just bought food to go and ate in a cool area.
  
  The lodging was really nice but I found that they’re a smaller dive shop and they don’t go on trips unless they have enough people (makes sense), which doesn’t always happen.
  
  view from my balcony
  
  sunrise from in front of Johandive
  
  my room
  
  my room
  
  nighttime in front of Johandive
  
  I did think about the island hopping bit because I was going to be on the island for 6 days. I know it’s a long time but I figured, it’s my first stop and I’m probably going to be jetlagged for half of it so I decided to give myself that time to kind of adjust my headspace sorta “norm.” lol. Cute. Little did I know the culture shock I was to experience on my very first diving day.
  
  I called the canvasser who hooked me up with Atlas Divers (great crew!). It was late afternoon when we connected so it had gotten dark after we did the transactions in the shop. He led me to a vegetarian restaurant called VillaPotenciana Restaurant. It was delicious and the place was pretty. They even sold tribal masks, one of which I purchased.
  
  VillaPotenciana Restaurant
  
  I initially booked 4 dives; 1 being the refresher, 2 fun dives (shallow water, just around the shore to start me off with), and a night dive.
  
  Yeah… that didn’t happen. lol
  
  The last time I went diving, I almost drowned. It was a very traumatic experience for me and I’m not feeling particularly inclined to write much about the details but I’ll say this: I was able to execute my safety training (which was nice) and I was fine but mentally, I was not.
  
  It took me two days to finish my refresher. I was actually coming to terms that I might not see the sharks as I was pretty upset when I found out that I was having problems.
  
  “Did you finally finish it?” Eliot (from Belgium).
  “Not yet. Last time I went diving there was an equipment issue 30m/100 ft underwater. I almost drowned. Apparently, it’s heavily embedded in there”, I pointed to the back of my head
  “Oh yeah. That would do it,” he replied.
  I was doing the course with his girlfriend, Sheryl. “Where are you from?” I asked.
  “Belgium.”
  “Oh cool. Are you fully certified then?” He wasn’t taking any courses. He was with a different divemaster.
  “Yeah, I got certified in Belgium. It’s way more intensive there like it’s a total of about 9 weeks to finish it unlike here.”
  “That’s crazy!”
  “Yeah. It’s about 2-3 weeks of just swimming and slowly getting into it. I have to say though it’s good for preparation. I did the night dive last night and it was chaos. People were bumping into each other and I couldn’t tell who was what. I’m like ‘What is this?'”
  “Oh yeah. Here it’s just like 3 days or so. What’s to see in Belgium?”
  “Nothing, really. Most are dead corals though every now and then we would see a small fish and we’d be so happy.”
  I paused, “So, like, why do you dive there?”
  “It’s the same question I’ve been asking myself,” he replied.
  
  Malapascua Dive Spots – Atlas Divers
  
  Somewhere in the convo (I forgot how) it came up that he was half-Arabic (I forgot the country).
  “Yeah, I’ve already checked your tattoos.” he said.
  I have “Maktub” in Arabic on my right ankle and “Fitrah” on my chest.
  “Yeah, I have a friend who’s Palestinian. She grew up in Montreal and lived in Toronto for a bit. She taught me all these things about Islam. ‘Maktub’ I got from one of my favourite books though, ‘The Alchemist’ by Paulo Coelho. It roughly means ‘It is written’ or ‘fate.'”
  He nodded. He knew the book.
  “And then on my chest is ‘Fitrah’ for like innate human nature, like, Oneness with existence sorta deal. I wish I spoke Arabic though.” I said.
  “Oh yeah it’s a difficult language to learn,” he said.
  “And the writing…” I added.
  “Yeah, the writing is right to left.” he said.
  “Oh. That’s even worse! It’s good to know different languages though.”
  “Absolutely. I’ve always wanted to visit Canada. Do you know French?” he asked.
  “Unfortunately not. I actually graduated high school in the Philippines right before we moved to Canada where they put me in Grade 11. The curriculums are just different I guess but it was good they did that because I would’ve been so culture-shocked had I gone to college right away. Plus, like, yeah, French is technically our second language but it’s not like here in the Philippines like English is the second language and everyone speaks it. Out in Canada, it’s spoken mostly in Quebec. I know Tagalog though and I tend to pick up Spanish easily when I practice. It’s interesting, these things. Tagalog and English don’t have masculine/feminine on inanimate objects though. That’s usually what trips me up like huh how is this table a woman? In Tagalog, these things are joined or truncated. Like the table is feminine, yeah so it’s ‘La Mesa.’ In Tagalog, we turned it into one word so it’s just ‘Lamesa.’ It’s interesting to me, these things, especially how it evolves when you go cross-cultural and then it can give you insight on society, history etc you know.” I said.
  He nodded, “Absolutely. I’m from the southern part of Belgium and I’m lucky because so many different languages are spoken there.”
  He listed out 5 languages! Good for him!
  “North America is…”
  “Oh we’re so young,” I said. “We’re only like 150 years old. Not a lot of history. And most people only know English. It’s tricky, yeah, again with cross-cultural things because when you know different languages, it helps shape, affect, and expand the way you think…”
  He nodded, “Yeah, and when someone knows only one language and then you know that language and some other language, you’re essentially adjusting to their way of thinking but if you’re in a conversation or any kind of relationship…” he motioned his hands to indicate a “give and take” message.”
  “Yeah, it should be a symbiosis,” I said.
  “Yes!” he gleefully agreed.
  
  *Never too late to learn another language though being friends with people from different backgrounds – and having real talk with them about in-depth topics (not just daily grind things but philosophies and worldview things) – could make up for not knowing another language. Also, just because you’ve travelled to certain countries, it doesn’t automatically mean you’re cultured unless you’ve immersed yourself. Sometimes I go to Mexico just to dive and not really immerse myself in the culture and I don’t go on claiming otherwise. FYI*
  
  I kept panicking during my refresher. It wasn’t until I got stubborn and allowed myself to openly whine and bitch about the things I had to do that didn’t want to do that was I able to successfully get through it #ExpressYourself lol
  Sometimes we have to let these out of our systems, as long as it’s not directed towards anyone and is just an outward expression (please don’t take this out of context) like I tell my clients to cuss when I’m tattooing them, I’m personally all for it.
  The direction it will take is tied to emotional intelligence.
  
  “I finally passed it! I was already coming into terms that maybe I won’t see the sharks and just when I accepted it, it happened!” I told Eliot. I was overjoyed even though I was thinking the worst at the onset, “Oh no! Is this the end of my diving? Am I ever going to be in the water again? Is this chapter of my life done?” 😭
  
  But there was something else that upset me more.
  
  Oysters
  
  Everyone thought I was Ms Fancy Pants for loving seafood, in Toronto. But where I come from it’s common and some of which are actually considered to be poor man’s food.
  I didn’t value it then just like they don’t value it now… and when you’re unaware of your worth (or I suppose if you’re in poverty), you make way for greed to take advantage of you.
  I mean, I was talking to fellow diver tourists from Belgium who was all “I’d have to pay hundreds of Euros for this and they’re like ‘Whatever’” just like how I used to be.
  I was so mindblown and they’re like “meh” and I’m like “bruh.”
  I know better now (knowledge acquired via privileges) and I can’t help but think about how much of those pretty pennies do these people, who did the dirty work, get?
  If it’s so fancy, how come they’re still struggling earning to make a living?
  
  It upset me so much that – well, probably paired with the jetlag, tiredness, me being an HSP, and then being socially/culturally shocked – I cried myself to sleep that night. I mean, I already know these things in theory just as I’ve come across them before. It’s different from back then, I guess, because I’ve been living in my Canadian bubble. It’s different too when you’re up, close, personal, and immersed in it vs knowing in theory.
  
  I wish there was something measurable and significant I could do and since I’m not in a position of power nor enough privileges to be able to, I write and vlog in hopes of spreading awareness and maybe more people will care, and then maybe eventually it will change.
  
  “You should charge more when you sell the oysters.” I told them.
  “Mga 500 isang pala (About 500 pesos per pail – that’s about $13 CAD),” they replied.
  “That’s nothing. We pay $20-30 sometimes a hundred or more per plate which is a very small portion of that pail. You need to double or triple your price. That’s still cheap out there,” I insisted.
  They laughed. They’re really nice out here unlike in Boracay which is very touristy and there’s so much corruption and deceit by tourists and locals alike.
  “No. No. You need to charge more. People who are already well-to-do are making a big buck out of this and you get peanuts. It’s unfair,” I told them.
  “Sanay na ho kami ma’am. Basta may makakain. (We’re used to it ma’am. As long as we have something to eat),” they said.
  “Yes, but your freediving skills are big game. You should charge more,” I kept telling them.
  We went on a little convo about how this hits me on a personal level because I’m Filipino and we immigrated to escape poverty, like what they’re experiencing. I told them out there we learn how to play the game (even though we’re still constantly losing) because of discrimination, historical oppression and abuse etc you know.
  They just nodded. They know… but at the same time, they don’t want to dupe anyone (the price they charge is normal).
  
  Just because it’s popular, or “normal”, it doesn’t make it right. They’re just adhering to what’s contextually right… but in the grander scheme of things, it’s pretty fucked up.
  
  However, I do admire them for doing what they believe to be right which is how I know I can trust them for what comes next.
  
  Thresher Sharks
  
  We joked around a bit. They were cool and they were really stoked that they had a Filipino client because most of the tourists in the area are Europeans, who are notorious for hating Americans lol. They tend to ask me where I’m from though they already know I’m North American because of my accent. When I tell them I’m from Canada, their faces light up and they go on about how they want to visit Canada but not the U.S.
  
  The U.S. just gets a bad rep with politics and the media. I would stick by New York a bit because I see the pros and I even tell them to go visit Brooklyn and to make sure to take the subway if they like avant-garde, couture, and street sort of art. I personally love the grimy sort of charm of New York subways. I’ve seen and can imagine, some crazy shit ala Lady Gaga or Thierry Mugler sort of fashion using it as a backdrop.
  
  Don’t shoot the messenger.
  
  But anyway, the boat crew – all local – were jokes.
  
  We had some real talk along with the jokes. From what I gather, making a living is difficult and it’s a constant struggle so they stay sane by changing their outlook and making a piss out of things when they can.
  
  Great attitude 🥰
  
  I actually got myself a private divemaster as per their advice, which I agreed with. I made a point to let him know that I had issues so he knows what he’s dealing with. I told him about techniques I’m using (countdown from 10, singing, having a song in my head – really worked).
  
  “Oh, that happens a lot. It happened to me several times. It’s like a meditation. Breathe.” said the Spaniard in reply to when I told him I was panicking.
  Everyone, crew & fellow divers, were so sweet and encouraging. They gave me fist bumps and smiles all around. “You got this,” was the gist of it. In case you’re reading this, thank you 🙏🏼 meant a lot to me 🥰❤️🤗
  I’ve gone diving with others who’ve panicked before and I’ve given them encouragement as well. It took me some time to catch up on giving myself some compassion. We can’t really extend that if we don’t have it for ourselves.
  
  Atlas Divers, by the way, was the only boat with a second floor and hammocks underneath: super epic win. The ride to the dive spots were about 2 hours away so these things were very much appreciated and enjoyed. It’s amazing how the little things can really count.
  
  There was a Spaniard, the 2 Belgians I met already, another Belgian, a Scottish couple, and a Filipina-Canadian (myself) with the local crew. It was a great, mixed crowd which I thoroughly enjoyed. It’s really not just all about the whole equality thing but when you get a diverse set of people coming from many backgrounds and cultural/social realities, you get different perspectives and input. I can’t stress this enough: the more perspectives you have – that are working towards the same or a similar goal – you’re more likely to spark innovation.
  
  The Spaniard was sweet and also super jokes. He’s gone diving with thresher sharks the day before and he’s doing it because, as he put it, “I love it. It’s like I make love to the sharks.” lol. Classic.
  “Exhale small amounts when the shark comes close. Just little bubbles (he demos it). If you exhale a lot then they go off,” he tipped us.
  
  It’s funny yeah because I did this, it’s now part of my “normal” but it was defo not the case right before. We were all apprehensive (except for the Spaniard who couldn’t wait to make love to the sharks).
  
  “It’s kind of counter-intuitive, what we’re doing,” said Eliot.
  “Yeah, I’m nervous too,” I said.
  Everyone else was quiet and nervous. We all had to get up at 5am because we had to be at the shop at 5:45 too so we were scared and low on energy lol. Good times.
  
  They started off lurking in murky water. They would swim in circles (not circling us though that would give me a heart attack). For 2-3 minutes they stayed in the murky areas but then they would come closer and closer… and closer.
  
  It was kind of cute how curious they are and it was interesting how mostly un-terrified I was. One of the sharks got pretty close like 2-3metres/6-10ft close… yeeeaaah. At that point, I kept looking at my divemaster and signaling, “Sharks. Too close.” To which he would signal back, “It’s okay.”
  
  They were pretty harmless though. It’s mostly just media brainwashing and a headspace thing. I don’t know about the others but part of the reason why I did it is because well it’s cool and I wanted to break my own barriers.
  
  And my barriers I did. We actually did several dives to see the threshers. Honestly, after the last dive, I was done. We crept this one shark lol like we hid by the corals to get this shot.
  
  After this, honestly, I was like, “Okay. I wanna swim around and see other fish, man.”
  
  We were all super chill after the dive. It’s like, cool. That was actually fine. Whatevs lol. We all started chatting and I found out that Eliot and Sheryl were travelling for a couple more months with an open itinerary. I directed them to Thailand, specifically Koh Lanta.
  “Yeah, we were avoiding Phuket. I heard it’s party town, drunk people, prostitution abuse, petty crimes…” he said
  I nodded. “Yeah, I know. It’s why I avoided Boracay.” (✌️ I heard it’s different now but it has left a sour taste in my tongue – it’s where I learned diving and accumulated dive logs. I had fun then but I was in my early 20’s so it’s a different story now).
  I showed him photos from my dive in Similan Islands and Kled Kao Wreck.
  “Kled Kao Wreck is a spot you can access from Phuket and surrounding islands. Similan Islands you can do a day trip but it’s not really worth it like it’ll take 5 hours to get there. It has to be a liveaboard. I did an overnight liveaboard with 7 dives, including a night dive.”
  He made the money gesture with his fingers (liveaboards are notoriously expensive like 5k/week is not uncommon). I laughed. “No, no. This one was affordable. This was 4 years ago so I won’t know pricing now but back then it was like $700 Canadian… that’s like $550 USD,” I said.
  “Hmmm. About €450?” he asked.
  “Yeah, back then it was.” I wrote it on my iPhone Notepad which he took a photo of.
  
  On my walk back to my room from the dive shop, I found myself thinking, “Cool. I’ve seen the sharks. I’m bored. Time to bounce.”
  
  I packed up my stuff to get ready for the ride back the next day.
  
  I actually had an overnight stay in Cebu City because my flight was around 8:30 and I wouldn’t be able to make that if I’m coming straight from the island. Ferries don’t start running until around 6 or so.
  
  Cebu City
  
  I explored a bit in Cebu City and here are some highlights:
  
  Yap San Diego Ancestral House
  
  This is one of the oldest houses in the Philippines, apparently. It was built during Spanish colonial times with Chinese settlers during which. It’s been there since the 1600’s and has been passed down to several generations. It was kinda creepy in a cool way.
  
  Cebu City Night Market
  
  I lucked out on my lodging (Cebu City Backpacker’s Hostel) because it happened to be right in front of the night market.
  
  I ate way too much street food lol.
  
  =========================================
  
  Next Up, Philippines: Part 2 – La Union
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  Posted in Arts & Culture, Pinoy, Travel | 0 Comments | Tagged art, backpacking, belgian, belgium, canada, canadian, cebu, culture, Europeans, filipina, filipino, malapascua, manila, new york, north america, NYC, philippines, scotland, Scottish, scuba, scuba dive, scuba diving, sharks, spain, spaniard, street food, thresher sharks, Travel
- Philippines: Part 2 – La Union
  
  Posted at 9:01 pm by Gelene Celis, on March 13, 2024
  When I told my dad that I was going to the Philippines, he told me about a distant cousin.
  
  “Ah kilala mo si Andrea? Mahilig din sa dagat yun! (Oh do you know Andrea? She loves the ocean too!” he said while showing me her social media which was filled with surf photos.
  
  Of course, I was intimidated.
  
  Manila
  
  I contacted her anyway. She’s a distant cousin like my 3rd cousin or something. We all have extended family to some degree but Filipinos keep in touch with, like, everyone. I know it’s not only me that gets lost when I go to reunions, “Oh that’s your aunt from so and so grandfather and that one is this and your nephew blah blah blah.”
  
  I can’t keep track of these things 😵‍💫
  
  I met with my friends in Manila and then onto Andrea’s condo in Quezon City, Manila.
  
  I didn’t really know what to expect but we ended up chatting for hours. Glad to say my cousin and I hit it off! 😊
  It was kinda jokes because apparently my dad gave all my family members, that I might see, a heads up, “Yeah. I told my dad that I’ve seen all kinds of things and different kinds of people at UP (University of the Philippines). I don’t have problems with you being a lesbian,” Andrea said.
  “Huh? I’m not a lesbian. I’m mostly straight. I’ve only really been with a couple of women but I’m mostly straight like I’m supposedly pansexual,” I said.
  “Ay! Mali! Ang sabi ng Tatay ko kakaiba ka raw! Wala ng ibang sinabi basta yun lang and it’s up to me to interpret! Kakainis! (Ay! Wrong! My dad said you were different! He didn’t mention anything else and it was up to me to interpret! So annoying!)” she replied.
  
  We had a laugh. I’m aware of how I look like and possibly even my demeanour. I shave my head and I have a head tattoo as well as tattoos all over my body and facial mods (spacers 38mm/1.5in diameter, septum ring).
  
  It’s been quite an interesting, inadvertent social experiment walking around looking like the way I do.
  A lot of people have impressions of me just on my style alone. It spans from intimidation to fear to hate to admiration and awe.
  That’s why I always say, get to know yourself first and seek internal validation vs placing too much worth on external factors. If they’re inaccurate on how they read you: it’s really more of a reflection of who they are (or their reality) than who you are and your reality.
  We’re not in control of how we’re received but we can manage ourselves and how we interact with others and our environment.
  It’s important to get lost in life at some point or another because sometimes that’s how we find our own path… but try not to lose yourself in the noise.
  
  Though I guess I can’t really blame people for my resting bitch face, my tattoos, my shaved head, my piercings etc you know.
  
  My cousin and I packed up and got ready to go to bed. Her friend was picking us up early morning and onto a 4 hour ride to San Juan, La Union.
  
  San Juan, La Union
  
  We stayed at Shorebeach Hostel which I loved. They kept the walls and roofing bare like without the red brick things; it was just plain cement and they furnished it with wood and other ethnic things. It gave the whole minimalist + wooden and tribal sort of furniture. I loved it. I can’t say that enough. If I had all the budget in the world, that’s how I would want my place to look like.
  
  courtesy of Booking.com
  
  courtesy of Booking.com
  
  courtesy of Booking.com
  
  courtesy of Booking.com
  
  courtesy of Booking.com
  
  courtesy of Booking.com
  
  I didn’t take any good photos unfortunately so here are some from various sources (mentioned in the captions). We stayed in a double bed + single bedroom as there were three of us (first two above).
  
  We just chilled on our arrival day and made arrangements for surfing the next day. We had to get up around 5am because we were instructed to be there at 5:30.
  
  The beach was about a 5-minute walk from the hostel. We had some late lunch along the way at Herbs n Spice before calling it a night.
  
  Therese and Andrea
  
  all of us!
  
  Surfing
  
  Day 1
  
  So we’re on Day 2 of being in La Union but Day 1 of surfing. We didn’t get the chance to surf the day before as there weren’t any slots on the previous day (plus we were tired from long driving).
  
  I didn’t really know what to expect. I’ve never gone surfing before, like ever, in my life. When we got there though, we essentially just signed up and let them know our “level” which was, for me, zero.
  After which, the instructors decided that the waves on the beach we were in were too big for beginners like us so they took us to another spot.
  
  In the middle of the session (2 hours total), I started feeling my stomach sting. “Rashes! Soft board kasi kaya ka nagkaganyan (Rashes! It’s ’cause you’re riding a soft board – with texture – which is why you’re getting it),” said the instructor. He recommended rash guards… and I realized why they’re called “rash guards.” I’ve always thought it was something random 🤷🏽‍♀️
  
  In any case, many falls, minor foot injuries, stomach and arms rashes, burps (I legit tasted my breakfast as I was out in the water that day), wedgies, sunburns, a few cusses, and frustrations later…
  
  I don’t have the surf mount, unfortunately, and there wasn’t anyone who was taking our photos either so I don’t have media of the actual surfing. I can tell you that I fell plenty though. However, I did manage to get up the board and balance for about 10 seconds at the longest. I heard that’s a pretty big deal because people usually can’t even stand on the board during the first lesson so even though I failed plenty, I’m still pretty proud of myself 😎
  
  Apparently, I was walling too? I didn’t even know what that meant but my instructor (left-most) told me I did well on the first time I managed to get up (5 seconds). I was supposedly riding to the left, avoiding the crash of the waves. I was just feeling it out and rolling my balance with it… now I know why they say “ride the waves.”
  
  We wrapped it up and went back to the hostel. We planned on doing another session that afternoon but I passed out and Therese and Andrea just started working smh.
  
  We ended the day by chillin’ at the beach before finding a spot to have dinner… and I found Taho! 😊
  
  That night, we walked around the area to find something to eat. I forgot where we ended up but I defo remember the convos.
  
  I Love You Long Time
  
  “In 1987, the same year that the Philippines ratified its constitution and allowed the United States to retain military bases within its archipelago, the Stanley Kubrick film, ‘Full Metal Jacket’ was released. It was a critically acclaimed adaptation of a semi-autobiographical novel about an American soldier during the Vietnam war. The iconic scene features a Vietnamese sex worker saying, ‘Me so horny! Me love you long time!’ She is obviously not horny. She is poor, brown, and exotic. Holly wood really said, ‘Nevermind that brown women are caricatured, as long as the white soldier is humanized!’ In the years since, pop culture has clouded the racist roots of this phrase, where imperialism is hidden in catchy lyrics and comedic microaggressions. Along the shores of La Union, traces of an American air base linger as bars line the streets of a freeport zone. The story repeats itself wherever US troops decide to enter visa-free with impunity. Up the coast, in a small municipality heaving with local tourists, the phrase has evolved. Soon after foreign surfers retired in San Juan but before the white van joiners rolled along, Urbiztondo became the off melting pot of hardy Ilocanos, bohemian city kids, sexpats, and the occasional backpacker. I LU Long Time, now worn as a badge of honour, reframes the tourist town as a beloved neighbourhood of residents first, drawing the line between transplant and transient. It’s a lowkey flex: I eat breakfast at the sari-sari store, I don’t leave trash on the beach, I watch the sunset from my favourite board rack
  This is home, not a transaction. This is Love. Hindi ako pang short time (I’m not for a ‘short time’).”
  
  for reference:
  
  If you know me at all then you would know that I have a lot of… umm… passion, in me?
  
  My cousin picked it up right away. I have a tendency to get fired up over social issues most likely because of my own immersive history with oppression. Don’t get me wrong: we all experience this to some degree most especially on a social level. I catch my own mental, emotional, and physical barriers being affected by these things myself.
  
  I told them everything I knew and had come to witness: race is a big thing everywhere even when you’re living in a country inhabited by mostly its locals. I’m not going into detail on my blog though if you’re curious just reach out. You can either message me here via my Contact page or if you know me in person, I’d be down to grab some coffee or drinks and just chat.
  
  If you have any sense of social awareness and an inkling of recent history (and what’s going on in the world today), the things you’ll hear me say shouldn’t come as too much of a shock.
  
  Day 2
  
  Surfing Day 2 = Day 3 (last day)
  
  We went out to the beach that we took a trike from that morning to see if we could surf there. The instructors initially thought that we should be able to do the waves there but…
  
  Thankfully, we didn’t end up doing it there. I was honestly a little freaked out with the waves on that beach. We went ahead and took another trike to the nearby beach with smaller waves.
  
  “Sige. Balance ka lang. Taasan mo yung squat mo. (OK. Just balance. Squat a little higher),” said my instructor.
  “Oho. Matutumba, malalaglag ako. Natututo pako. It’s part of it. Mangyayari talaga yun (Yes, sir. I’m gonna lose my balance, fall. I’m still learning. It’s part of it. It’ll happen),” I replied.
  
  I didn’t break my astonishing 10-second record lol ’cause the waves that I was able to fully ride were short. I’m also tired AF. I forgot to eat that morning so I inhaled my siopao that I bought from 7/11 earlier that day. I also had another swim top but it had texture on it so my rashes were actually worse. I got a little complacent with sunscreen too like I didn’t bother applying it so I ended up burning my face…
  
  It was a workout for sure; paddling, pushing yourself up, balancing, squatting, and such. DOMS kicked in within 2 hours like wtf. It was cray cray.
  
  We still had some time before we needed to leave so we met up with some of my cousin’s friends for lunch. The couple was headed somewhere north of where we were. I thought to highlight the buko (coconut) and buko pandan ice cream 😁
  
  We just kinda chilled before we wrapped it up.
  
  On our way home, Therese’s HR-V (big car) GPS somehow led us to a fucking alleyway that was filled with trikes, pedestrians, stray dogs and cats, and motorbikes. I was losing my shit… but they were chillin’. Manila driving freaks me out. I don’t even use Angkas which is like Uber for motorbikes; you ride at the back with no harness or anything. You just hold on to the driver… yeah… in Manila where drivers play Tetris with space and speed on the road? Fuck that shit.
  
  We had some lunch before we left. It was a little sad at the end. I mean, I won’t get to hang with them until at least another couple of years. Gonna miss these girls.
  
  Therese dropped us off Andrea’s place. Andrea and I met with our other cousins later that night (they haven’t met my first cousins!) before we parted ways. Andrea was headed back to her hometown and I was headed to another town for more scuba diving.
  
  =========================================
  
  Next up: Mindoro (Sablayan & Apo Reef)
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  Posted in Arts & Culture, Pinoy, Travel | 0 Comments | Tagged art, asia, asian, beach, culture, expat, expatriate, filipino, filipino food, history, la union, luzon, philippines, san juan, san juan beach, southeast asia, surf, surf school, surfing, tricycle
- Philippines: Part 3 – Mindoro (Sablayan & Apo Reef)
  
  Posted at 12:00 pm by Gelene Celis, on March 12, 2024
  I originally was checking out Tubbataha Reef but it was going to be closed for when I was going to be there. A friend then told me about another UNESCO World Heritage Site (protected areas), Apo Reef, that was going to be open.
  
  courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
  
  Yeah, so, it’s one of those things like in Malapascua where it was going to be an epic pain in the ass to get to. It’s an island kinda life and, in a sense, it’s a good thing it’s that way because otherwise, it means that it’s become so touristy and industrialized that it would lose value in its serenity.
  
  Sablayan
  
  A quick Google search would bring up Sablayan Divers which were one of the few dive shops that I was able locate with a set schedule. There were liveaboards but liveaboards are expensive (averaging at $4k USD/week) + liveaboards are too much: 3-4 diving/day for 5-7 days straight. I know I kinda did that in Thailand because I hadn’t gone diving in like 5 years at that point so I got a little too excited but I mean I couldn’t even get out of bed by the end of it.
  
  Just to give you an idea of how much diving takes away from your body:
  An hour of martial arts burns about 400-600 calories
  A tank of diving (this can last you from 20-45 minutes depending on depth and your air consumption; the deeper you go, the more air you consume, and the more pressure it is on your body) burns about 300-500 calories. Imagine doing that 3-4x/day for consecutive days.
  It’s one of those things too where you don’t feel your body is working it up until you get out of the water like why am I so tired and why am I so hungry?
  
  Sablayan Divers were great by the way. I would highly recommend them as they really cared about the divers, were very good-natured, and they made excellent feasts!
  
  But first, let me tell you how to get there.
  
  I woke up at 4am and took a cab to the Manila airport to catch my flight. All I knew at that point was that I needed to get to the bus or van terminal to get to Sablayan from the airport. Online research can really only get you so far with these things as you’re going to have to rely on blogs (like mine!) or some other articles that tell you how to get there. So everything is all in theory because nothing is officially registered or set in stone. I thought I’d land there and figure it out. The first thing I did was open my Grab app which was no dice…
  
  “Magkano? (How much?)” I asked the trike driver as I got off.
  “Bahala ka na ho ma’am (It’s up to you, ma’am),” he replied. I frowned. “Huh? Di pwede yun! (Huh? We can’t do that!),” I told him.
  “Isang daan ho (₱100 – about $2.50 CAD, $2 USD, €1.60).”
  I happily paid him ₱100 thinking the price was more than fair… it wasn’t until later that I found out that I got super ripped off.
  
  Once I got to the “terminal,” it didn’t really look like much of a terminal at all. I didn’t get the chance to take photos unfortunately as I was too caught up in making my way. There are no set schedules. The van or bus eventually leaves when it’s full. It was chaos; they were filling everything up including the middle aisle with makeshift and foldable seats so people who sat at the back, like myself, wouldn’t be able to get out unless everyone in front would go as well. I didn’t really have an issue with that except for two things: 1) I forgot to empty my bladder 2) The lady beside me decided to argue with the operators about the price and throw up in a fricking plastic bag while she was seated amidst all the people in the van.
  Fantastic. 😒
  
  The ride was beautiful though. It was all farmlands. Just take my word for it because I wasn’t able to comfortably take out my phone amidst the throwing up in a bag, the noise, and the funny smells… still, I have no regrets.
  
  After 2-3 hours, I finally arrived at the terminal at Sablayan. From there, I also had no clue as to how to get to the hotel but I did see a line of trikes. Thankfully, there was phone reception here so I was able to look up where the hotel is and it was close enough to be trike-able. I shared the trike with another lady. The driver said it’s cheaper for us that way and it’s good for him too for profit.
  I got off at the hotel and he charged me ₱20 for a little over a kilometre/half a mile ride. I paused. I couldn’t believe it; remember that their gas prices are the same as ours over here in North America, converted. “Bente lang (Only ₱20)?” I asked.
  “Oho bente lang (Yes, just ₱20),” he replied.
  I handed him ₱50 and told him to keep the change.
  “Naks naman! Pamasko! (Nice! For Christmas! – it was December 21st)” he happily exclaimed.
  
  Dear ladies, gentlemen, non-binary, and whathaveyou: if you’re going to travel around these parts, please tip service workers generously. Their minimum wage is nowhere near ours yet the cost of living is close to ours.
  
  I checked in Sablayan Seasons Hotel which was not bad though it didn’t look nearly as luxurious as its photos. I didn’t take any photos just out of being tired and wanting to get shit done.
  
  I was tired AF. I had to get up at 4 to take the cab to my flight, fly for an hour and a half, go on a trike ride to the bus/van terminal, go on a 2-3 hour van ride, and then trike to the hotel. When I settled my stuff in the hotel, I contacted the diveshop right away. They wanted me to come in for a fitting of the equipment and wetsuit so when I got to the hotel, I still had to go find out how to get to the shop. I was getting quotes from ₱500 (about $12 CAD, $10USD, €8) which was exorbitant because I was under the impression that it was close. As it turns out there was a misunderstanding because the vicinity where the shop was had the same name as another pier far out.
  
  I was exhausted… but one of the things I was after in this whole trip are parol, which are Fillipino Christmas lanterns that I miss so much as they gave me much comfort as a child. I have a painting print of it back home in Toronto.
  
  I actually have another destination specifically for these things but that one turned out to be a little more industrial.
  
  Imagine my excitement when I saw parols right in front of my hotel.
  
  “Sinisindihan ho ba yung mga parol (Do they light up the parol)?” I asked the security guard.
  “Oho mamaya pa ho ng konti kasi umulan (Yes though it will be a little later today because it rained).” he replied.
  I didn’t think I was going to make it because I was just so tired but it was too early to sleep so I walked around the plaza which, to my delight, turned out to be a cultural centre 😊
  
  I heard some commotion at the gym and found out that there was a basketball game happening. I decided to check it out to pass the time, in hopes that my energy could make it to when they light the lanterns.
  
  “Magkano ho entrance (How much is the entrance)?” I asked the lady who was sitting by the ticket area.
  “Bente po (₱20 – about ¢.50 CAD, ¢.40 USD, ¢.30 Euro),” she replied. I handed her my payment and made my way in.
  
  I got pretty hungry after some time so I decided to go out and get something to eat. The lanterns still weren’t lit at the time but they did have an area with street food!
  
  At some point, the basketball court was getting filled up (good for them). It was then I decided to check out if they’d turned on the lights yet… and they did!
  
  I wasn’t even planning on posting or saying anything about Sablayan but the sense of community really touched me 🥰
  Later on, I had a conversation with Endoy, who was one of the divemasters and also a co-owner of Sablayan Divers, about it. He informed me that the parol bit of the festivities is actually a competition amongst the barangay/bario (the smallest vicinity sort of division in the Philippines, roughly translated “village”). I asked him if it was institutionally sanctioned at all and he said “Hindi. Sila sila lang dun sa Sablayan ang nag-o-organize nun (No. It’s the people in Sablayan who organize it),” he replied.
  “I hope corporations don’t fucking go in there and meddle because they’re gonna ruin it,” I bitterly said. Endoy nodded his head.
  They know.
  
  I was wondering when I would feel this sense of peace in simplicity. The hotel I stayed in wasn’t luxurious at all. The hallway looked creepy as some of the lights didn’t work. It looked like it would’ve made a good location shoot for one of those subtly scary horror films like The Grudge or something as it was also quite rundown. The upper lock on my door didn’t work either as they gave me two keys but one was useless. I just didn’t bring it to the staff’s attention because it was only going to be one night and I couldn’t be bothered with the hassle. Plus, it was fine by me. I brought one of those safety lock things anyway so I used it later that night. Either way, I felt safe there. The people are even-tempered, sensible, honest, and overall chill.
  
  I can’t tell you how much this place touched my heart. I wanted to stay a couple more nights to immerse myself more in the festivities but I was on a tight schedule. Had I known this was going to come, I would’ve planned to stay at Sablayan for at least 2-3 nights. I really wanted to stay… I mean, I wept in my room that night because I was brought back to places in my childhood when I felt like everything was going to be alright and everyone and everything was safe. Of course, as adults, we all know that’s not true even though we were all born with a clean slate. Somehow our slates get tainted along the way and before we know it, we’re essentially doing all this internal work to undo the damages we incur.
  
  Life is hard for everyone and sometimes therapy can take on the form of being in a completely different state of mind, with modern machines as extensions of ourselves, within an environment that’s not intrinsic to us as human beings.
  
  Sometimes that’s what it takes to revive and celebrate our inner child.
  
  Apo Reef
  
  I was in the shop by 6:30 the next day. I met the people who were doing the 3-day dive trip with me.
  
  The original itinerary is as follows:
  Day 1 (December 22nd): 3 dives
  Day 2 (December 23rd): 3 dives
  Day 3 (December 24th): 3 dives
  It was 9 dives total including the tent, food, water, equipment, and everything. It was a great deal and they were an amazing crew. They were chill, and very pleasant to be around (super important you develop a working rapport with people you dive with). If you’re headed this way, I highly recommend Sablayan Divers.
  
  7 divers (2 not in the picture including myself) + one of the local divemasters
  
  There were 7 of us diving: myself, a French guy, a Filipino-Australian couple, a Korean guy, a Colombian guy who moved to Australia, and his Aussie girlfriend.
  
  “You looking forward to it? I’m just wondering if there’s fresh water like how the setup would be living on an island,” I said to the Filipina-Aussie woman.
  “Yes! I’m just worried about where to poo and stuff!” she replied.
  
  I didn’t want to admit it but I thought that too.
  
  We went on our merry way, all excited and getting comfortable in the boat, napping in random spots (the best part).
  
  On our way to the island, we learned that we were going to do one dive before getting on the island so we started prepping.
  
  Since I have so many videos from the dives, I just went ahead and turned it into one long edit.
  
  Here are some highlights:
  – so many sharks! We saw grey tip, white tip, and black tip. They’re actually quite timid of us and funny enough, we were the ones chasing them. They were just so elusive.
  – a school of eagle rays! It was amazing! They were about 10 metres deeper than the depth we were trying to keep so I was only able to shoot it from a distance but some coordinating happened underwater as some of my mates went a bit deep to get a good shot. The Korean dude had some serious equipment. I just have a lowly starter Cressi Leonardo whereas he had this watch that he can just hook up to his divelog and it populates all the details automatically. He also had this underwater horn that was pretty loud (efficient!) and a mirror lens on his wrist (to view his mates behind him, he explained). He was really sweet; he was looking out for everyone like a divemaster would. He’s had like over 1000+ dives (we asked and he said after 1000, he stopped counting).
  – giant lobsters hiding in coral holes
  – turtles!
  – cuttlefish
  – Nemo
  – Dory
  – Flounder
  
  they were all wall dives
  
  the guy with the serious equipment and 1000+ dives
  
  shark
  
  It was amazing though we had a last-minute change of plans to the number of dives per day. We did 4 dives on Day 2 so we can go home early on Day 3. On the final dive, there was a strong current. I fucking hated it. We were swimming so hard to get to the wall of corals like I saw one of my mates swimming really hard but staying in one place. After 8 dives within 2 and a half days, I was done.
  
  Diving takes a lot out of your body, “Scuba diving exposes you to many effects, including immersion, cold, hyperbaric gases, elevated breathing pressure, exercise and stress, as well as a postdive risk of gas bubbles circulating in your blood. Your heart’s capacity to support an elevated blood output decreases with age and with disease.” – Divers Alert Network
  
  I decided to call it quits and cancel my dive. I have my own dive computer so I managed to ascend alone and we have just been in the water for about 10 minutes at that point. I kept signaling to my mates that I was okay and gesturing that I was tired. I was using up so much air and we haven’t even gone on the wall yet. I was just done. Tired. Exhausted.
  
  Image courtesy of Dressel Divers
  
  The divemaster gave me his diver’s buoy. I signaled “What about you?” then he pointed at the Korean guy (serious equipment dude) and signaled okay because he had a buoy that they could use. My mates then went ahead while I did my pit stop (3 minutes). It was kinda creepy because the visibility was bad on shallow areas so I was in the middle of the ocean with a blurry view of the ocean floor and nothing to see on all sides. I thought to take a video but I was too busy trying to ascend safely.
  
  I didn’t have a horn or a whistle or anything so when I got to the surface, I had to keep waving the buoy until the boat crew saw me and sailed towards me.
  
  When my mates finally ascended, I asked them if they saw anything special. Apparently, just one tuna fish, and I’m like… cool. I wouldn’t have wanted to work for that. The dude with the serious equipment was telling me that I needed to descend further down, like on the floor, for when the current was strong so we could swim under it. I kinda knew that but I was just done.
  
  Living on an island for 3 days and 2 nights is a whole experience in itself. Like my mate, I was a little concerned over the washrooms but I surprisingly was able to do my business every day. Two of our mates though didn’t poo the entire time. I don’t know how they did that, drinking coffee each morning and diving, compressing our bodies. 😂
  
  “‘Pag inulan tayo, tatakbo na lang tayo ‘dun (If it rains, we’ll just run over there),” he said pointing to the building. The building was something the government was working on because they wanted to make a bustling spot out of the island but it never happened so now it’s just an abandoned place. It’s where the washrooms are.
  
  I just kinda shrugged off his comment, thinking it won’t rain. That night, however, I started feeling some drizzle and then the winds got strong. I had to get up and hold the tent and I thought it would only last for 15 minutes. When it didn’t, I finally looked out and saw the staff helping out one of the other divers and that’s when I knew it was serious and that we were going to make a run for it.
  
  It was stressful AF. I mean, I had my stuff laid out in the tent and everything plus I was half asleep. When the crew finally came around to my tent, I hastily grabbed my stuff and shoved it in my backpack. They took the tent and I carried my stuff along with some of the bedding. It was so dark especially since it was raining pretty hard. We were all discombobulated though we managed to settle in our respective “rooms.”
  
  Since there were no fans or AC, we were relying on the breeze to help us sleep… but the rooms had walls that blocked the wind so it was pretty hot. I used a handheld fan that my friend gave me but my hand stops working when I fall asleep so it was a bit of a funny little problem. The bed was also semi wet and there was sand all over the tent. It was very uncomfortable.
  
  All throughout this journey, I cherished every moment, including the difficult ones and I never daydreamed nor missed home… except for this time. That night, I longed for my memory foam bed and my duvet. If I want maximum comfort, I tend to leave my window ajar to let some cold wind in. This way, I tuck myself in my sheets and bury myself in the comfort. This was the only time I missed Toronto.
  
  “Last night was an adventure eh?” I said to one of our mates the morning after.
  “Oh, it was a movie.” he replied.
  So true.
  
  Everything else went well after that though. So many insightful conversations; from one of our mates and me admitting that we’re gluttonous Westerners (one of the staff members doesn’t eat at night and then we mentioned how we can’t do that) to numerous dive stories.
  We asked our divemaster for shitty occurrences in his career span. “Oh my God. Too many to count.” 😂 Poor guy. Life is hard enough as it is. Imagine problems underwater?
  We pressed him for the worst story which he indulged us with.
  Apparently, the guy straight up stood on the corals to take photos, which destroyed the corals. Endoy, the divemaster, gestured 🤷🏽‍♀️ and to come up. The guy wasn’t ascending from the coral floor. On the next dive, the divemaster went close to him to encourage him to stay off the corals but the diver grabbed his arm and pushed him away. The divemaster told the owner of the shop (he was working for another shop at the time) and so they kicked the turd out and never went diving with him again.
  Endoy and I chatted a few times. I told him about the movie, “The Triangle of Sadness.” It stars a Filipina woman as a protagonist, which was a nice surprise for me. I only watched the film on Prime because it looked interesting. It’s about a boat crew for a rich people’s cruise and it makes a mockery of the social disparities that different human beings, from different walks of life, experience along with the ridiculous demands. When I told him I was 38 years old (now 39), he was surprised. I said, “You know the saying, ‘Asian don’t raisin?'” He looked puzzled. I looked to his wife (she was the cook), “Anong Tagalog ng raisin? (What’s Tagalog for raisin),” I asked.
  “Pasas,” she replied. Endoy’s face lit up, “Ah! Like your face and wrinkles.”
  “Yes!” I replied.
  
  Duyan (swing) which I was tempted to sleep on the nights (good thing I didn’t because it rained)
  
  Water Pump – half freshwater and half saltwater
  
  The Korean guy, who has 1000+ dives, on the other hand, was telling us about the Maldives. Apparently, over there, there is a good chance of you coming across a school of sharks that will swim around you (harmless). He was very funny and actually quite sweet though things got lost in translation.
  
  We didn’t decide to do 4 dives on Day 2 until after Dive 3. I guess he didn’t get the memo because he took his bag from the boat. He did this by jumping into shallow water and getting a staff member to hand it over to him. He crossed the waters holding his bag over his head and when it got to dinner, he ate quite a bit because he thought we were done. When he found out, he was shocked and gestured how much he ate and that he might throw up. “Good for the fish,” replied the divemaster.
  
  He was fine though. He didn’t throw up. You’re usually advised not to eat too much food because of the compression in deeper waters. It could cause you to throw up and I have seen a diver throw up underwater. It doesn’t look fun so in as much as diving is a fun and relaxing sport, it’s always important to take precautions because you are putting yourself at risk.
  
  That night, a group of freedivers came to the island. We didn’t party with them or anything (they blasted the music for a few hours and were drinking Tanduay which is half gin and half rum- they were hardcore) but a few of my mates spoke to them and I heard something ridiculous like one of them can freedive for 2 minutes down to 40 metres (130 ft) and one of them can freedive for 2 minutes down to 20 metres (65 ft).
  We were like, “WTF?!?”
  
  We learned that they were seasoned scuba divers looking for the next challenge… my mates and were like, “Yeah, we’ll stick to diving. Thanks.” We were totally put to shame. The thing is with freediving, you mostly concentrate on your thing. They’re not like divers; once we get comfortable down there, we just kinda play around, look at the fish, swim after sharks and turtles you know. We’re chillin’; can’t do that with freediving.
  
  =========================================
  
  Next Up: Pampanga and Mountain Province
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  Posted in Arts & Culture, Pinoy, Travel | 0 Comments | Tagged apo island, apo reef, asia, backpacking, christmas, community, culture, gopro, grassroots, island, mindoro, parol, philippines, sablayan, scuba, scuba dive, scuba diving, southeast asia, Travel, tropics
- Philippines: Part 4 – Mountain Province (and Pampanga)
  
  Posted at 10:30 am by Gelene Celis, on March 10, 2024
  Pampanga
  
  I flew back to Manila on Christmas Day. I wasted no time and headed straight to the bus station upon landing.
  
  Pampanga is about an hour and a half away from Manila. It’s dubbed the next capital of the country because it’s bustling.
  
  I went there specifically for the Giant Lantern Festival which I missed.
  
  “Ah wala na ho yun. Yung festival isang gabi lang at natapos na (Oh that’s done. The festival is for one night only and it’s finished),” said the receptionist at the AirBnB condo I booked.
  
  The lanterns were still there though so I went.
  
  I gotta say, I’m not quite as impressed as the lanterns I saw in Sablayan. The one in Sablayan was more grassroots whereas this was quite commercialized. What became the highlight of this trip was my fancy pants AirBnB at AzureNorth.
  
  AzureNorth, Pampanga – image courtesy of AirBnB
  
  AzureNorth, Pampanga – image courtesy of AirBnB
  
  AzureNorth, Pampanga – image courtesy of AirBnB
  
  It was actually my first time renting a place with Netflix on the telly so I was pretty excited as I’ve only been watching Netflix on my phone. Netflix in every country varies so I was pretty stoked to have different types of selections, including more Asian films. I seek indie and international films out on purpose to begin with and having it right on my fingertips in a convenient place after roughing it up in the island was a nice breather.
  
  I was so happy to have freshwater coming from the tap and the shower. I was also super comfortable on the bed and the place was cozy to begin with. I ordered in quite a bit and besides the lantern festival and some errands at the mall, I didn’t go out. After roughing it up for 3 days and continuously scuba diving for several days, which is very taxing on your body, I welcomed the chill for several days.
  
  Plus, it was so fucking crowded that I didn’t want to be out because of it. When I got off the bus I thought, “Oh it’s not as crowded as Manila!”
  
  I swallowed those words pretty fast.
  
  On my last day, I headed back to Manila for a few days and hung out with some friends before I headed out to the Mountain Province region.
  
  Mountain Province
  
  Kalinga (Buscalan, Tinglayan)
  
  This was defo the most challenging part of the journey. Panicking during your refresher course due to trauma was challenging because it had to do with self-regulation. This, however, was very physically taxing and no amount of self-regulation would’ve alleviated it.
  
  I left this part last because I was going to get tattoos and you can’t bathe nor get in the water when you have fresh tattoos. I did bring my own second skin but I just didn’t want to dive for 45-55 minutes at a time, multiple times within consecutive days, soaking my fresh tattoo in saltwater.
  
  After my last dive trip, I put myself in a headspace where the water part of my trip is done (was tempted to budge in 1 more dive day but no time).
  
  I love mountains… and the views during the ride to get there was nothing short of breathtaking.
  
  When we got to the other point of the mountain, I knew there was some trekking involved. I didn’t expect there to be a luggage tram so that was nice because we arrived around 9 or 10 in the morning and the sun was scorching… little did I know that the tram wasn’t going to help with the challenge which I nothinged.
  
  I looked it up on all trails which told me that it was going to be about a 98 metre / 130 ft incline.
  
  The Path to Whang-Od
  
  I’ve hiked and climbed bigger elevations before. What I failed to take into account is that the incline is only half the trail because we descend on the first half. So we’re looking at 98 metres / 130 ft within half a km.
  
  They have built steps it felt like it didn’t make a difference especially under the scorching sun. The steps were essentially on my face during most of the incline and if the steps weren’t there, I estimate the incline to be about 60-80° degrees like you can almost climb it.
  
  It was brutal.
  
  Granted, there were some blessings that came with it.
  
  One of our mates almost passed out. I don’t think they take into account altitude sickness because I think his issue was a mix of that and the challenge of the hike so we took many breaks. I needed the breaks too. During which, I decided to chat up Rebecca, who was our local tour guide.
  
  Rebecca, a Butbut tribe member
  
  I did some previous research but it was really spotty as there are no official information and they were all just blogs. As I sat there, panting my life away, I asked her, “Bakit kung saan saan pwede kayong mapunta dito kayo sa bundok napadpad? (Your tribe could’ve lived everywhere. How did you end up here?)” I asked.
  She laughed because of the context of the situation.
  
  I asked if I can take a video of her while she narrated the story. She smiled and looked away, “‘Wag na lang (No, don’t),” she timidly said. They’re very humble and unassuming people.
  
  “Kasi ho yung mga ninuno namin, dati sa kapatagan nakatira. Pero naghanap ng ibang babahayan kasi naghahanap ng bagong lupa. Napili nung mga matatanda sa bundok. Yung mga kabataan gusto sana sa kapatagan pero hindi sila pinayagan kasi pag naghiwa-hiwalay sila, mahihinaan yung grupo nila kasi minsan nag-aaway ang mga tribo. Nagkakagera. (Our ancestors used to live in the plains. But they looked for a different home around better lands – for farming. They chose the mountains. The younger ones wanted to stay in the plains but the elders didn’t allow it because the tribe would get weak for when wars happen),” she replied.
  
  “Ano hong pinag-aawayan ng mga tribo (What do the tribes fight over)?” I asked.
  “Lupa at teritoryo (Land and territory),” she replied.
  
  Interesting. It’s like modern day wars. Upon hearing this, I realized that wars are a necessary part of Life just as sometimes we, unfortunately, go into wars with ourselves. More on this later.
  
  Despite the gruelling hike, everything felt like it happened so fast. We reached the village around noon and by then all we wanted to do was rest and eat. We were directed to our homestay and my mates and I settled in.
  
  Tattoo Designs to choose from
  
  Dining area
  
  After eating lunch, I asked around as to where Whang-Od might be.
  
  Whang-Od
  
  “Hindi mo nakita? Dinaanan nyo na kanina yung lugar (You didn’t see it? You passed by the area where she’s tattooing),” a local replied.
  
  We had one of the local guides lead us to where she was tattooing. I anticipated to be starstruck as in I would want to shriek with excitement but that wasn’t the feeling at all. When I got there, everything just felt… normal.
  
  I waved at Whang-Od as she turned her head my way. She just looked back at the tattoo she was in the process of finishing.
  
  “Pa-tattoo na kayo (Are you getting tattooed now)?” asked a local.
  “Ah mamaya na lang ho. Kararating lang namin (In a bit. We just arrived),” I said.
  “Ah kung gusto mong mag pa tattoo kay Whang-Od kelangan ngayon na. Kasi mamaya aakyat pa yan sa bundok para sa To-or (Oh if you want to get tattooed by Whang-Od, you have to do it now. She’s going further up the mountain for To-or (farming ritual),” the lady said.
  
  Whang-Od is 107 years old. I like how they’re casually going up and down the mountains whereas we almost died, literally for my mate too. Damn.
  
  There was another group before us. The lineup wasn’t so bad because it was New Year’s Eve.
  
  We waited patiently for our turn and during which, Whang-Od made a mistake. She doesn’t tattoo full on designs anymore. She just does the 3-dot signature but I guess she missed an aim at one point because it turned out to be 4 dots on one lady. Whang-Od gladly corrected it by offering a design.
  Everyone was in anticipation; she doesn’t do designs anymore. This is, as I would find out later on, the first rarity of this occasion.
  
  The lady who was getting it though doesn’t have any tattoos so she was apprehensive and stressed out. Whang-Od asked her (with the local translator) if she can take the pain.
  
  Whang-Od’s “studio” area
  
  Whang-Od doing her thing
  
  After their group was done, it was our turn. I wanted the dots to be at the back of my neck below the Filipino-Canadian tattoo I have. Little did I know that I was to be surprised…
  
  Once I was done, I had one of my mates take a photo of the tattoo. This was when I found out that she modified the 3 dot placement. It’s usually lined straight but she customized it to have a better layout with my existing tattoos.
  
  Hah! I was so stoked! I felt so special! 😁
  
  But that wasn’t it.
  
  After everyone in our group got tattooed, we did another photo session with Whang-Od. The other tribe members who were around for translations and to supervise told us that it’s okay to hug her.
  
  One of my mates went first and did the finger pointing thing at the camera and to our surprise and amusement, Whang-Od followed suit! Haha! Then one of my other mates went in and did the shaka sign, which Whang-Od also did. I was kinda bummed about because I was thinking of doing the same thing.
  
  When it came to my turn, I sat beside her and put my arm around her. I was slowly doing the shaka sign when this happened…
  
  Whang-Od initially played with my spacers and then touched my septum ring as she jokingly said, “Kalabaw.”
  
  Carabao in the Philippines – image courtesy of Wikipedia
  
  Carabaos are water buffaloes that rice farmers plow their field. The Butbut tribe are mainly rice farmers.
  
  They would pierce the carabaos’ septum to put a ring on it or to put ropes in it so that farmers can train young ones and it helps them navigate the buffaloes to the right path.
  
  It’s kinda like horses with ropes I suppose, except this one is harnessed on their noses.
  
  I was honestly kinda ready for Whang-Od to grab my crotch lol. I’ve seen videos of her grabbing people’s crotches, for women, to verify their gender when she’s not sure. With my shaved head, I thought she might get confused but I guess that’s not what she saw in me.
  
  Facial mods are actually an indigenous thing. My spacers and my septum rings are more derived from African tribes more than anything. It’s not really a Filipino thing. A divemaster actually brought up some tribes that put multiple necklace chokers to lengthen the women’s necks as it’s their definition of beauty.
  
  courtesy of twofeatherplugs.com
  
  courtesy of Medium.com
  
  courtesy of Tribalik.co.uk
  
  I was unbelievably stoked. It’s rare she interacts with people like she did with me.
  
  “Kalabaw”
  
  After the session, Whang-Od went up further in the mountain and I went back to our homestay.
  
  Karen and Toto
  
  I kept asking about the people who were doing tattoos since Whang-Od doesn’t do designs anymore. She can only pass down the skill to bloodline so the younger ones are her great-great-great-something-nephew and nieces.
  
  The ink is essentially charcoal they had used for cooking mixed with water. Just a heads up, the ink that Whang-Od uses is communal, meaning, she uses the same bowl of ink for everyone. You have your own thorn though. The stick that holds the thorn is made of bamboo and the “needle” itself are thorns from plants.
  
  I selected the Serpent Eagle (heavenly guidance and protection) and Traveller (to help guide us on our paths) for my left forearm and the Ladder pattern (reach heavens & achievement) as well as the Snake pattern (safety, protection, health, shield) for my right wrist. I was going to have it as an armband instead but I didn’t bring enough cash and there are no phone receptions, no internet, and no ATMs.
  
  Honestly, I was glad it turned out to be a wristband because it hurt like a bitch.
  
  It started out with just Karen tattooing me the patterns on my wrist. When Toto was done with the other guy, Karen asked me if I’m okay with two people tattooing me at the same time.
  
  I said okay… which I regretted within 5 minutes of Toto tattooing me at the same time as Karen but I didn’t back out because if I did, we would’ve reached nightfall before the other tattoo was done and I was just so damn tired. I wanted to get it over with.
  
  Bamboo Sticks
  
  Charcoal + Water = Butbut Tattoo Ink
  
  I brought my own second skin to help with the healing. After the tattoos were done, I went back to the homestay and asked a couple of my mates for help in putting it on.
  
  “Ang lamig ng kamay mo (Your hands are so cold)!” one of them said.
  “Siguro kasi ang daming sakit ngayong araw at grabe din ang sakit nito. Dalawa pang sabay (Maybe it’s because I’m experiencing a lot of pain today and the pain from these tattoos are pretty bad. Two of them were tattooing me at the same time),” I replied.
  
  From the brutal climb to the village to the pain of the tattoos; I was ready to call it a night. I was done.
  
  This was definitely the most challenging part of the trip. It was so much pain and I was not prepared for the literal and metaphorical terrains. It was so painful and I was so tired that I forgot to take a photo of the final products so here they are when I got home (about a week later).
  
  I needed to break my cash so I went around the village for souvenir things. I ended up getting a necklace and a few other items that I was gonna give to friends and family when I got back. I also got a small Buscalan coffee pack because I needed to further break my bills. It turned out to be great coffee! I wish I had gotten more but luckily, some family is coming to New York at the end of March so I asked them to get it for me.
  
  It’s the type of coffee that really wakes you up but lets you sleep at night and I’m sensitive to caffeine so that was a big deal for me.
  
  Buscalan Coffee, grown in their own fields
  
  That night, the city tour guide announced that we would need to wake up at 3:30am because we need to descend the mountain at 4am, which is not 6am (when there’s some sunlight). I was pretty miffed. It’s a steep incline and descent is more challenging with regard to balance plus it was raining that night so it would be slippery.
  
  It was New Year’s Eve but we didn’t stay up until midnight because of this. We didn’t really party or anything but we did smoke weed.
  
  Fun fact: indigenous tribes have been using herbs since the dawn of time for spiritual purposes. A friend of mine used to study these things and apparently hallucinogens like ayahuasca is somewhere in the Northeast of the compass as it’s for purging or something. There are different herbs for each direction and right in the middle of it is weed.
  
  Weed, in indigenous tribes, are considered a catalyst herb so when you’re starting a new chapter in your life or something of the sort, this would be the herb to go. Evidently, I catalyze my life several times in a week.
  
  You’re not allowed to bring weed in just as you’re not allowed to bring weed out. It’s still very illegal in the Philippines but there are loopholes like these because to these people, weed is holy.
  
  And I really respect that.
  
  I hung out with some of my mates during which. One of them has never smoked weed before so I started up the pipe to show him how it’s done.
  
  The city tour guide was talking to us about his experiences there. He was telling us about how he’s spent so many days there and have spent his birthday several times. “Minsan lahat tulog na and madilim na at kami na lang maingay (Sometimes everyone is sleeping and it’s dark and we’re the only ones who are loud),” he bragged.
  
  It rang a bell inside of me. I thought it was a bit disrespectful, “Hindi kayo pinapaalis (Don’t they kick you out)?” I asked.
  “Hindi. Nagdadala kami ng pera dito. Hindi kami nyan gagalawin (No. We bring money in. They’re not going to touch us,” he kept bragging.
  Yeah, I hated him. I made a mental note to blacklist those guys and if I ever come back, it won’t be with them.
  
  I had a shower, ate my dinner, and called it a night.
  
  Around midnight (New Year), my mates and I intermittently woke up to the sounds of fireworks and, as we found out later, gunshots.
  
  The next day, some of our mates woke us up around 4am. We had breakfast and got ready to leave.
  
  The descent sucked. It was pitch black darkness and all we had were our flashlights and we had to bring our bags with us because the luggage tram wasn’t operating yet. I took it very slowly especially since the sandals I had were shit for slippery rocks. The local tour guides held me by the hand at some points which was very kind of them. They kept trying to ask me to take out the second skin too because they thought it was ordinary plastic so I kept refusing.
  
  When we finally got to the other side, we still had to wait a bit for the van as we woke up the driver because it was still dark.
  
  As we rode the van on our way back, we started gaining back phone reception. I messaged the other city tour guide (they were partners) asking them if they can just pick me up on their way back to Manila too because I didn’t have reason to go back to Buscalan. If I had more time, I would’ve stayed a week or so because tourists are actually allowed to participate in their farming ritual and I wanted to get to know the people more… but I didn’t have time.
  
  The city tour guide then replied to me that they’re not passing by the town I’m going to on their way back. I had reserved for two slots so I’m technically was going on two trips to Buscalan. I already don’t like them because of the aforementioned reasons. They also made me show up early to the meeting point only to be 2 hours late with no apologies nor sensitivity towards the matter.
  
  When I got off the van, I explained the situation to the other city guide and was only going to pay the balance for one trip. I guess they didn’t communicate because he wasn’t aware of the situation and made me pay for the deposit for the second trip as well as the balance for the first. It was 7 in the morning: I was in no mood to argue so I just gave him the extra ₱500 (about $13 CAD, $10 USD, €8). I was pissed but I also asked to just be dropped off in a town where I’ve never been before, where I don’t know anyone, I don’t speak the local dialect, and have nothing – no lodging nor transportation to get back to Manila – booked.
  
  I had them drop me off at the ticket station for the buses and I was just to knock on doors and figure it out. It was New Year’s Day and very early in the morning so it was very quiet. It took me about an hour of walking around before I found a place which had staff readily available for me to be able to book a place.
  
  Sagada
  
  Sagada is a town about 3 hours away from Buscalan.
  
  I found Sagada Guesthouse and checked in there. Rooms with shared bathroom were ₱500/night which was the only thing I could afford because I was running out of cash. The town had ATMs but it was constantly out of cash or wouldn’t take my card and all places I went to were only accepting cash. I was conserving what little I had left.
  
  Sagada Guesthouse – image courtesy of TripAdvisor
  
  how my room was – image courtesy of TripAdvisor
  
  I inquired about the Sea of Clouds and Hanging Coffins as these are things people mainly come to the city for. My friend also recommended to go check it out (he’s been here a few times).
  
  I forgot the actual figures but I was really running low on cash so I decided to pass up on the full trail for Sea of Clouds. The lodging staff hooked me up with a local tour guide.
  
  “5:45 bukas (5:45 am tomorrow),” said the staff.
  “Ganung oras ang sundo (They pick us up at that time)?” I asked.
  “Oho (Yes),” he replied.
  
  Ah! When you’re on vacation and you’re doing activities, you don’t really get to sleep in. That’s okay I suppose, I wake up around that time already anyway without an alarm, unfortunately.
  
  I still had the rest of the New Year’s Day so I decided to check out Gaia Cafe, which a friend had recommended. I checked it out on the map and it was going to be a 20 minute walk and I couldn’t find any trikes around. I just started walking to the spot when I flagged a trike. I asked him how much it was going to cost and he said ₱25 so I rode on the fancy trike.
  
  When I got off, I asked the driver (Andrew was his name) if he could come back when I’m ready. He agreed to do so and we exchanged numbers.
  
  Gaia Cafe
  
  The place was gorgeous.
  
  I had a chat with the owner (the lady sitting down, reading a book, in the video) who then told me that the creations in the cafe, including the mosaic floors, were all made by local artists. They had connections in Chicago too as they immigrated there and would travel back and forth between the US and the Philippines.
  
  You can read more about the cafe on Tripadvisor here.
  
  Once I was done my meal, I text messaged Andrew, the trike driver, to come pick me up. He informed me that it will take about half an hour as he will be coming from a little farther from the city centre. I told him that I’ll cover the cost for his trip to get me too. It only seemed fair.
  
  By the time I got back to the inn, it was already dusk. I just kinda chilled, organized my stuff, prepped for the hike the next day, and called it a night.
  
  Sea of Clouds and Blue Soil
  
  At about 5:45am the next day, I was in the van headed to the start of the trail. It was only about a 15 minute ride away.
  
  It was still dark when we started.
  
  Start of Sea of Clouds
  
  The hike itself was about 6 km / 3.7 miles with an elevation of 471 metres / 1500 ft.
  
  The official name of the trail is Marlboro County via Payag-eo
  
  There was a rest stop too on the Sea of Clouds viewpoint where I ate some Arroz Caldo as I was starving. My local guide and I chilled there for a bit before heading to the other main viewpoints; Blue Salt and Echo Valley.
  
  It rained the night before too so it was quite muddy and my sandals had excellent traction for mud plus the elevation is much higher than in Whang-Od’s village but it was divvied by 6km so I didn’t struggle which was nice.
  
  I got a little confused once we were done with the Sea of Clouds bit. I told the staff at the inn that I’m opting for the turning back choice (after Sea of Clouds) because going further would cost more money that I didn’t have (they only accepted cash). I told the tour guide but he insisted that it was part of the package and it was okay. I just kinda went along and thought that it would be alright and that I would figure it out somehow.
  
  During our hike, we got to chatting. He spoke about agriculture in the Philippines and how it’s not supported. I told him that I kinda had an idea of it because I am originally from the country though I’ve seen another reality where people actually want to live in a farm. I told him that when Covid hit, a lot of office workers who work remote started moving out into the country and started farming. The community, from my perspective (I say that because I haven’t been immersed in the reality so all I have are objective insights), farmers are well supported much more in the Philippines like if you want to have a farm, the government will actually help you out.
  
  my local tour guide
  
  “Maganda yan (That’s good!),” he said. “Kasi dito sa Pilipinas, minamaliit and mga magsasaka. Hindi naiintindihan ng mga tao at gobyerno na kapag walang magsasaka at nagtatanim, walang makakain (Because here in the Philippines, they belittle farmers. People don’t understand that if there are no farmers and other agricultural workers then there will be food),” he addded.
  “Oo nga. Dun naiintindihan ng mga tao. Kaya ini-encourage nilang suportahan and lokal. Tsaka naiintindihan ng mga tao na ‘pag magsuporta ka ng lokal (Yeah, I know. In Canada, people understand that which is why they encourage and advertise to support local),” I said.
  “Maganda yan. Dapat ganyan. Dati ako rin nagsasaka; mga tatlong taon pero tinigil ko na kasi halos walang nakikita (That’s good. That’s how it should be. I used to farm too for about three years but I stopped because I was barely making anything),” he said.
  “Mga ano hong kita ninyo (Around how much were you earning)?” I asked.
  He gestures with his hands, “Tinatanim ko noon mga gulay. Pero mga isang kumpol ng gulay mga apat o limang piso lang ang binibigay samin. Pati bigas halos ganun ang isang kilo (I used to plant vegetables. I would only get about ₱4 to ₱5 – about ¢.10 CAD, ¢.08 USD, ¢.06 Euros. For grains of rice, they give us about the same for a kilo),” he informed me.
  
  I was shocked. ₱4 to ₱5 per fucking kilogram? They sell those for 10-20 times more in Manila!
  
  image courtesy of Philstar
  
  “Saan napupunta yung iba? Alam kung may mga kailngan ding kumita pero medyo abuso yata yun (Where does the other part of the profit go? I know there are people in the chain who need to make money out of it but that sounds like abuse),” I said.
  He nodded, “Kaya nga tinigil ko na (It’s why I stopped).”
  “Ano na hong pinagkikitaan nyo (What do you do for a living now)?” I asked.
  “Eto. Nag to-tour guide. Malaking tulong din ‘to. ‘Pag maraming dumadayo, disente ang pagkikitaan. Tapos minsan kung ano ano; nag da -drive ng bus, tricycle. Kung anong makitaan (This. I’m a tour guide. It’s a big help. When there’s a lot of tourists, the earnings are decent. Sometimes I do odd jobs like driving a bus or a tricycle… whatever I can get my hands on,” he said.
  
  It was heartbreaking to say the least. In the beginning of my trip, I came across locals who were skilled freedivers, featured in Western magazines and specialty channels (Nat Geo, Discovery) yet struggles to make a living. And now, I come across a former farmer in a country that is has natural riches with very fertile soil and mostly ideal weather to grow crops yet he’s also struggling.
  
  It’s usually about politics, as I found out more later via another source.
  
  The Butbut and Igorot (Kalinga) Tribes
  
  We rode back to the inn from the meeting point at the end of the hike. We went for a several hour lunch break. During which, I walked around and checked out the ATMs. They were all out of order and I was in a bit of panic mode because I still needed the cash to go back to Manila (the bus station wasn’t accepting cards either), pay for the tour, and eat.
  
  As I walked around, a random girl approached me, “Hi!” she said.
  
  “I’m sorry if this is weird but I thought you look really cool. I saw you the other day and I wanted to talk to you. It took some guts and I was like, you know what? If she’s unfriendly at least I tried,” she added.
  
  “Aaw! Thanks! I’m just looking around for a spot to eat lunch. Do you want to come join me?” I asked her.
  “Yeah, I would love to!” she replied.
  
  I don’t remember the name of the restaurant we ended up in, unfortunately. It was owned by locals though who we ended up chatting with.
  
  I told them about my trip to Buscalan and how I did some research over tribal wars as well as about beheadings that they used to do.
  
  “Nagpupugot pa rin sila ng ulo (They still behead people),” she said.
  
  😵‍💫
  
  image courtesy of igorotage.com
  
  “Teka. Kagagaling ko lang dun. Nag ge-gera pa rin sila at nagpupugot ng ulo?!? (Wait. I was just there. They still have tribal wars and they still behead people?!?),” I asked.
  
  “Oo. Pero nire-reserba nila yung pagpupugot sa mga grabe ang nagawa. Kahit nung high school kami, kaklase namin yung mga taga tribo nila at pag merong away, wala sila talaga sa klase (Yes. But they reserve the beheadings to ones who have committed atrocious acts. Even when I was in high school, some of their tribe members were in my class and when there’s a war, they wouldn’t attend class),” she said.
  
  “Ano ho yung grabe (Can you give me an example of ‘atrocious’)?” I asked, a little uneasy.
  
  “Dati may taga dooon na bumaba dito. Nag-asawa ng taga dito pero Igorot din kasi mga descendant kami ng Igorot. Nagka anak sila ng babae at pinatay. Bumaba yung mga pinuno ng tribo nila. Nag meeting sila sa council dito at pagkatapos, kinuha nila yung pumatay sa anak na babae. ‘Pag ganun walang magagawa ang pulis at militar (There was a guy from their tribe who moved to this city. He married a local though she was also an Igorot as we are all descendants of Igorot tribe – family tribe of Whang-Od’s tribe. They had a daughter who was murdered. Due to this, the leaders of their tribe descended from their mountains and came here to talk to the council. After which, they took the murderer with them. When things like that happen, there’s nothing that the cops nor the military can do),” she explains.
  
  “Pa’no ho kung may mga turista at nag-gera (What if there’s tourists and they have a war)?” I asked.
  
  “Ay hindi naman. Sinasarado nila lahat ng daan. Sinisiguro nilang walang tagalabas pag nangyayari yun (Oh no that won’t happen. They close all the roads and trails to their village when they have wars. They make sure that no civilians are involved),” she said.
  
  Damn. It’s fascinating and intimidating at the same time knowing how simple they live their lives. Compared to us, Westerners, they’re essentially in poverty and very neglected by the government. They rely on farming and tourism for their income. Whang-Od looks like she makes a lot of money but, as a friend educated me, she actually helps out her village so what she earns goes to their people.
  
  Those guys are solid.
  
  image courtesy of larskruak.com
  
  They’re a tight-knit community and really look out for each other to the point that if you mess with them, you’re just fucked.
  
  It’s amazing really given what little they have. They were humble, good natured, and unassuming people. Whang-Od herself was not fazed at all by her popularity.
  
  I couldn’t help but think of Western institutions that are very low in morale and dignity. Civilization was made to expand a human being’s capacity. The fact that there’s so much mediocrity out there goes to show how much of our humanity and ourselves we’ve forgotten because of the stigmatization that came with colonization.
  
  As for the history of tattoos: it started out with indigenous tribes which then became stigmatized when colonialism happened and then people in jail started doing it with makeshift equipment. This is when much of the social stigma began.
  
  As far as patriarchy goes: traditional indigenous garment sometimes would have no tops for women and as the story of my Indian friend goes (bear with me I have a point), women used to not have any undergarments with their sarees. It wasn’t until the British came that they sexualized it and they were required to wear something underneath. It’s the same story with the tribes; once colonialism came, they required women to wear tops because they sexualized nudity instead of seeing it as something innocent and perfectly natural… Fail.
  
  Once my new friend, who’s from Manila visiting the city like me, and I finished our convo, we headed back to the inn. She asked to be part of the Hanging Coffins tour and the staff as well as the tour guide were both okay with it. I found out that the fee would be the same regardless of how many people were joining the tour which was nice for me as I only had to pay half then since I had a new mate. The only other additional fee that we would incur is the park fee which is an individual charge.
  
  We headed off to the Hanging Coffins as soon as our local tour guide arrived.
  
  Hanging Coffins
  
  We didn’t need to take transportation to get there or anything as the park was only about 10-15 minute walk from the city centre.
  
  Reese, my new friend, came with me. 😊
  
  She’s already been to the Hanging Coffins apparently but she wanted to check it once more.
  
  So as the story goes, the natives’ (Igorot tribe) tradition is to hang their dearly beloved when they pass away. It’s believed that hanging them will them closer to their ancestors. This tradition dates back 2000 years and some of them still follow it.
  
  When the colonizers came, they introduced burying the dead on the ground.
  
  Grave Site by The Hanging Coffins
  
  Thankfully, the Americans didn’t reject nor tell the Igorots to stop their custom. They just gave them an alternative option.
  
  Our tour guide is of Igorot descent. We asked him if he’s getting buried on the ground or the caves.
  
  “Hindi ko pa sinasabi sa pamilya ko kung anong gusto. Kung mawala ako ng walang nasabi, bali sa kweba ako mapupunta (I haven’t told my family yet what I want to do with my body when I pass away. Should I go before we settle it, I’ll be in the caves),” he replied.
  
  On our way to main area where the hanging coffins are, we pass by a nook within the caves (the place is full of it).
  
  He further narrated the customs when we arrived in the main area. His grandmother is actually on the wall here.
  
  Our local tour guide and his grandmother in one of the coffins
  
  After which, we headed back to town and my new mate and I hung out.
  
  When I got back to the inn, I asked the staff about my charges… and sure enough, we had a misunderstanding. Because I didn’t turn back from the Sea of Clouds hike, I was charged the full amount. I walked around to check out the only 3 ATM’s that the town had and they were all out of cash. Thankfully, Reese had cash and I PayPal-ed her the funds.
  
  We said our goodbyes to each other that night as I was headed back to Manila the next day and she planned on going to Whang-Od. I told her that she might as well since she was already in Sagada.
  
  Getting Back to Manila
  
  The next day, I still didn’t have bus tickets. The reservation was full apparently and my best bet was to wait around for the other bus that goes to another town closer to Manila and take another bus from there. None of this was on the internet or official or anything. Everything was asking around people in town and word of mouth.
  
  I ended up waiting around for about 4 hours in the middle of the day. I’m not complaining though. I mean, this is my view:
  
  Around 1pm, the bus line and schedule that I couldn’t get a ticket for showed up. I kept asking the driver if he had extra room. I kept getting a “no” up until right before they left. That’s when assessed, I guess, that they did have extra room so I hopped in.
  
  The ride itself was about 12 hours. It would’ve only been around 10 but we stopped by smaller towns to pick up more passengers.
  
  The views were amazing 😍
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  Posted in Arts & Culture, Pinoy, Travel | 0 Comments | Tagged agriculture, asia, backpacking, birthday, blue soil, buscalan, butbut, christmas, coffee, coffee beans, ethnic, hanging coffins, igorot, indigenous, kalinga, mountain, mountain province, mountains, native, new year, pampanga, parol, philippines, rice terraces, sagada, sea of clouds, southeast asia, tattoo, tattoo artist, tattoos, Travel, tribal, tribal art, tribal tattooist, weed, whang-od, whangod
- Philippines – Part 5: Going Home and In Retrospect
  
  Posted at 12:30 pm by Gelene Celis, on March 9, 2024
  Back in Manila
  
  I spent Christmas travelling (flying back to Manila from Sablayan/Apo Reef). I spent New Year’s also travelling (ride from Buscalan to Sagada). So it’s only natural that I spent my birthday on the road too (bus back to Manila).
  
  There’s this superstitious belief that whatever you do in the New Year will set the tone for the rest of the year. Honestly, my 2023 was shit and it started with shit as well. I’m hoping 2024 will be better and my being constantly-on-the-road paves the way for positive energy.
  
  I realized that I really like being on the road and I’m a goal-oriented person which doesn’t serve me well with many instances in Life where it’s really more about the process and the journey. This trip was a bit of both. I get bored once I’m done what I went there for and hidden gems are inadvertent finds like the grassroots Christmas thing in Sablayan.
  
  Nothing ever really completely turns out the way we plan. In doing these things, the way I see it, I prepare myself for unexpected events in many other aspects in my Life. It’s not that I make things difficult on purpose; I just anticipate that things are going to get delayed, you’re going to find holes or mistakes within your planning etc which is why it’s always good to leave some padding on our schedules, budgets, and other factors within our planned routes.
  
  I told my friends that I’m prepping for yet another jetlag. One of my good friends works night shift so it was perfect: he got off at 11pm so my other good friend and I waited for him (she didn’t have a set schedule).
  
  I drank 2 espresso shots late in the day, to keep me up, before we headed out for some drinks and pool.
  
  I noticed that my friend was pretty good at it.
  
  “Yeah I used to cut classes in high school to go play billiards with a friend,” Roger said.
  
  “Hindi na ako masyado magaling (I’m not that good anymore),” he adds.
  
  “Well I guess now you need to cut work,” I jokingly replied.
  
  I used to be somewhat decent at it in high school but I currently suck at it since I’ve had zero practice.
  
  We compared tattoos afterwards as he went to go see Whang-Od as well. He was actually the one who gave me a heads up on what to expect and some rundown as well with regard to the tour guides.
  
  Gelene and Roger’s Buscalan Tattoos
  
  “Alanganin kasi yung dates mo (Your dates were weird),” he said in relation to my trip to Whang-Od. I went there on December 31st and left on January 1st so I didn’t have a lot of options.
  
  “Mahirap maghanap ng joiner tour na maalaga talaga sa kliyente at para kang kaibigan at masaya kayong lahat. Karamihan kasi ang tingin sa’yo, pera lang (It’s difficult to find city tour guides who care about their clients, like you’re friends and the trips feel like a bunch of friends going. Most of them just look at you as money),” he explains.
  
  I was ranting about the tour group I went with. I just thought they were so disrespectful and yes, while the Butbuts won’t do anything about his obnoxiousness because they bring in income, I think it’s awful that they’re taking advantage of it and inflating their worth to the tribe based on the tangible things they bring to the table. It’s like a paradigm for all things I hate about Western culture; materialism, greed, excess, deceit… games we play that create internal and external wars, greatly injurious to our well-being and our humanity.
  
  Once we were done playing pool. We walked over to a bar and had a lot of real talk with our mutual friend, Kitsi.
  
  I’m not going into detail with her personal troubles but when she told us, Roger asked me for a cigarette (he doesn’t smoke) because it stressed us both out. I got so pissed at one point that I told her to hold off on access on certain things when it came to the person in question.
  
  However, I will narrate some things she told us during the drug wars when the former president straight up gave the cops license to kill when they catch drug users/sellers.
  
  Apparently, they had a quota per day that they needed to fill so planting drugs on random people became a thing.
  
  She told us about a pedal trike victim.
  
  image courtesy of Gulf News
  
  “Gabi na nun pero hindi pa masyadong late kaya marami pang tao. May pulis na isa at pinlantahan ng droga. Sumigaw yung driver, ‘Pinaplantahan ako! Pinaplantahan ako!’ Yung mga tao humiwalay. Walang gusto tumulong kasi ‘pag tinulunga mo, lagot ka rin. Sumisigaw sya ng ilang beses at dinadalian yung pag bisikleta nya. Tapos maya maya narinig na lang namin ang baril. Patay (It was nighttime but it wasn’t too late so there were still a lot of people; like a crowd. There was one cop who planted drugs in the trike. The driver started yelling, frantically, ‘They’re planting the drugs on me! They’re planting the drugs!’ The crowd parted. No one wanted to help because if you do, you’ll be in trouble too. He yelled a couple more times as he sped his cycling. Then we heard a gunshot and he was dead).”
  
  So much heartbreak 💔
  
  We all have a tendency to be petty, yeah, moreso than I would like to admit. But when you come across stories like these, that hits close to home since your friend experienced it just as you’ve witnessed similar things in the past, it changes something inside of you, I think.
  
  It’s quite sad, really. My mother told me that her parents (my grandparents) never had plans to immigrate during their days because life was good. They were able to afford decent homes and such with a teacher’s salary and the cost of living was in good quality… and then fucking corrupt politicans came into power and stole $62 billion USD worth in Philippine Pesos, upheld the martial law (a lot of riots came with it), and ultimately fucked us.
  
  After which, it just feels like there is no salvation in sight… it’s why my family left. Most, millions, of people in this country – and other countries for that matter – do not have the privileges that I have which I do not take for granted at all. I think it’s why I wept in Cebu; I already knew these things happen just as I’ve encountered similar things in the past but when it’s in your face, when you’ve been living in your sheltered life out in the West for so long, it’s a shock to the system. It hurts to not be able to do anything to help and I know even if I’m able to come up with something, it’s probably not going to be as measurable and will be more for myself to alleviate my own pain. It hurts… even as I type this, it hurts.
  
  When my friend dropped me off my hotel, he asked, “Are you gonna be okay? You’re not gonna cry in the plane?”
  
  I replied,”No. I’m gonna rethink my life.”
  
  Toronto
  
  I would usually feel a sense of sadness when I’m leaving in conclusion to a trip but I didn’t feel it here. When I got back home, actually, I felt my energy quite uplifted. I felt my perspective change with regard to how I see my life but the very first thing I did was get rid of about a third of my wardrobe and other stuff that I have no use for nor love.
  
  But I did put up a wall dedicated to reminding me of this particular journey.
  
  It’s composed of the fan that my friend gave me, the bamboo sticks that were used for my tribal tattoos, the mask I got in Malaspascua, and a wooden necklace right on top of my Buddhist scroll (not pictured) that reminds me of one of my values.
  
  My home has been a constant work in progress as I change things around here and there especially around New Year’s because I feng shui’d my place. I don’t mind. They’re labours of love and sometimes, the things that are put up here are literally stemming from places with people whose blood, sweat, and tears – including my own.
  
  Life is never easy just as I know that good things come with bad and vice versa because these things tend to come together to maintain some kind of existential equilibrium. This is why I don’t believe in just “thinking positive” without considerations for the negative because the negative teaches us lessons.
  
  We never really get to know a culture until we feel the way they feel with their worldviews because the intellect can only go so far. Like I always say, emotions – along with the senses – have a direct line to the subconscious so significant lessons are always emotional.
  
  It’s been about two months since I got back, as I type this, and I’m still processing some things.
  
  “We tend to think of the rational as a higher order, but it is the emotional that marks our lives. One often learns more from ten days of agony than from ten years of contentment.” – Merle Shain
  
  Keep treading your path, fellow traveller. It is only when embark on adventures that we get to experience various paradigms of Life.
  
  Until next time.
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  Posted in Arts & Culture, Pinoy, Travel | 0 Comments | Tagged asia, billiards, corruption, life, life lessons, manila, philippines, psychology, sociology, southeast asia, tattoo, tattoos, toronto, Travel
- New York City (Brooklyn) – December 2022
  
  Posted at 4:34 pm by Gelene Celis, on February 17, 2023
  I was mostly after LCD Soundsystem but after browsing galleries and museums to visit during my planned stay, I found out that Thierry Mugler (whose exhibit I missed in Montreál) was going to be on at Brooklyn Museum.
  
  I’ve been frequenting New York as of late (5th time in 2022). The change of scenery is great for relieving stress and putting things in perspective. I have family there too so I usually stay with them but not on this trip. I just wanted to go and do my own thing. I may or may not have snuck this trip… I suppose it doesn’t matter now since I’m blogging it and they’ll find out lol. It was only for three days anyway but it was jampacked with so much culture.
  
  I was mostly solo on this trip. As social as I can be, I actually really like being alone. We need these times to process what’s going on around us, to quiet the noise and hear our own voice. Sometimes the nuanced misunderstandings that we come across on almost a daily basis, which is arguably a form of culture shock, can be exhausting.
  
  We all experience this to some degree due to the world we’re living in including the kinds of media, we’re exposed to, which all become a part of what shapes our reality (have you watched any of the old-school Disney movies lately? Some of them have statements now before the film starts, that pretty much say, “We know we fucked up but instead of removing the content let it be topics of discussion on how we can form a more inclusive world.” I know they’re a big company and can afford all kinds of losses but I thought it was pretty gutsy of them to own up to it and not take it down. It made me wonder what their thinking/legal processes were that came to this decision. If you have a Disney Plus subscription, check it out for yourself. It also made me wonder how it shaped our biases). In case you haven’t figured it out yet, art/culture/design can be play very powerful roles that instigate social and political change… for better or for worse.
  
  Try to remember that an objective instance isn’t always processed the same way, subjectively. Just as our chemistry with others isn’t necessarily telling of what another may experience with the same person/group, it is influenced and reflected by our own reality. Somebody who watched Disney films in middle America in the 90s wouldn’t necessarily have the same worldviews as someone who watched it in the Phillippines.
  
  In this sense, life is a solo act. Sure, we can belong to communities and families but we’re all ultimately still on our own paths. To me, perspective is of great value, especially when it comes to arts & culture, moulding ourselves and the ways we change, transform, and evolve in this life.
  
  On that note, I’m really diggin’ Brooklyn’s vibe and since I’m drawn to it, I figure it will aid in the whole growth thing. Even if it doesn’t, I knew I was going to enjoy myself so… I did it.
  
  ===================================
  
  Hotel RL Brooklyn
  
  I didn’t take photos of the place I’m staying in, unfortunately, nor did I bother taking many photos outside the hotel. I’ve just been going there enough times that it’s now become a part of my “normal” so it didn’t occur to me.
  
  I did take a video at the tail end of my trip. It’s in this neighbourhood called Bedstuy and it was right by a subway track with some amazing street art and graffiti.
  
  It’s funny ’cause my cousin who was born and raised there would come visit Toronto sometimes and, to her, Toronto feels like a small town lol. Yeah, I can see that.
  
  When I was fresh from Asia, I felt more at home in New York because of the density, the pace, the pollution, the graffiti, and the grime (which is part of its charm for me). But having lived in Toronto for over 20 years, I’ve gotten used to the space and I’m not sure if I can live here anymore. I like my quiet, relatively reasonable monthly rent (yeah, I know Toronto’s still ridiculous but compared to New York… come on).
  
  I landed around 9:30 but airport security, customs etc had to happen in between so I didn’t get to my hotel until around 11:30. My room wasn’t ready until 2:00 PM. I debated on going out somewhere but I decided to just stick around at the bar, which was closed for service but open for lounging at the time.
  
  I just stayed there for a couple hours since I had my luggage with me too. I pre-ordered some stuff from this metaphysical store in Manhattan that have iron fillings in them. The last time I took them home via carry-on, I almost missed my flight due to security. This time, I decided to do a big order which covered my holiday shopping and check my luggage in even though I was just there for 3 days.
  
  As soon as I checked in my room, I changed my clothes and headed straight to the store which was about 40 minutes away via transit. I love taking the MTA. It’s so sexy.
  
  The TTC just doesn’t have the raw-ness and history that the MTA does. There are delays and issues with both transits but with the TTC, once a subway stops running, you’re stuck with buses as there are no workarounds whereas the MTA would have way more options because their system is so much more robust… just don’t use it after around 10 or 11 at night (4 murders on average per month + other forms of assault and numerous petty crimes).
  
  MTA – New York
  
  TTC – Toronto
  
  ===================================
  
  Enchantments
  
  I ordered a bunch of stuff from a store I ended up loving called “Enchantments.” They market themselves as the oldest witchcraft store in New York City (30+ years).
  
  courtesy of Google reviews
  
  courtesy of Google reviews
  
  courtesy of Google reviews
  
  I actually feng shui’d my condo when I moved in and, during the session, I was re-introduced to crystals and metaphysical things that I got into in my late teens to early 20’s. I didn’t have much faith nor spirituality back then so I just kinda forgot about it. I was intrigued but didn’t really take it too seriously. These days, however, I’ve been taking up more spiritual things and if you’re into carving your intentions and focusing for manifestation, I would totally recommend this place.
  
  I brought my luggage here as the sole purpose of having checked-in luggage was to stuff the candles in it. The last time I carried it with me, I got extensively checked by security due to the iron fillings on the bottom of the candle. I hurriedly packed them at the store so I can go prep for the concert, which I was really giddy excited about lol.
  
  ===================================
  
  LCD Soundsystem
  
  I had about 2 hours to get to the venue after I was done with Enchantments. I went back to my hotel, stored my luggage there, had a change of clothes, and are dinner before Ieft for the concert.
  
  I was about 15 minutes late and freaking out but as it turns out, they weren’t going on ’til an hour after their supposed start time. There weren’t any opening artists or anything so I entertained myself with some merch and the bar.
  
  Special LCD Soundsystem Cocktails
  
  For those of you who don’t know them, they’re an electronic punk band from Brooklyn. I discovered them just a few years ago but they’ve been big-ish (not quite like Mariah Carey or Beyonce or lanything but they’re too popular now to be “underground” so not sure what category they fit in) since the mid 2000’s. They broke up in 2011 but got back together in 2015 (whew!). If you like Depeche Mode, chances are, you will like their music too.
  
  They come from humble and very punk rock beginnings.
  
  And now, they’re still super punk rock, sans the obscure venues.
  
  Intro – Time to Get Away
  
  LCD Soundsystem · Time to Get Away
  
  Daft Punk is Playig at My House
  
  LCD Soundsystem · Daft Punk Is Playing at My House
  
  They played most of my favourites except for one “North American Scum.” It was kind of a bummer ’cause I was really looking forward to yelling, “Thanks for not blaming us.” (The lyrics have “We don’t blame the Canadians” lol) but overall no complaints. I had a blast!
  
  ===================================
  
  Brooklyn Museum, Main Attraction: Thierry Mugler
  
  Thierry Mugler (Strasbourg, France) was a couture fashion designer who started gaining notoriety in the 90’s well into his death (2021).
  
  And in case you want to know how to pronounce it… (2:22)
  
  His works were exhibited at the Brooklyn Museum at the time of my visit… or rather, I timed my visit so I can catch both LCD Soundsystem and Thierry Mugler lol. Before I booked everything, I debated on whether I should go to New York just for LCD Soundsystem (I probably still would’ve) but once I found out Thierry Mugler was in, I was also in.
  
  Brooklyn Museum
  
  The first section was an installation art, straight away. It was a projection of the play, “Lady Macbeth” from the 80’s. Thierry Mugler costumed it in the 80’s while Michel Lemieux (Quebec, Canada) worked on the very impressive installation art.
  
  After this Macbeth bit came the clothing and photography exhibit.
  
  The ones right below this paragraph are probably my favourite. Mugler was known for outrageous, crazy shit styles, which I also love but these were the ones that resonated with me the most. Couture isn’t really practical not wearable unless maybe it you’re a celebrity and you’re walking down the red carpet or something. It’s fun to look at because they’re worn pieces of art but for everyday life? Eh… I think these would be the closest “practical” stuff you can wear.
  
  These ones are simple but it’s still got that kick.
  
  There were a bunch of sections but I’m only posting the ones that stick out to me.
  
  Next up, outrageous, crazy shit.
  
  This collection, in particular, actually reminded me of a couple of festivals that I’m familiar with:
  
  1. Sinulog
  “The Sinulog-Santo Niño Festival is an annual cultural and religious festival held on the third Sunday of January in Cebu City and is the centre of the Santo Niño Catholic Christian celebrations in the Philippines.” – Wikipedia
  
  image courtesy of Chloe Evans (https://unsplash.com/@chloeevans)
  
  2. The Toronto Caribbean Festival
  “The Toronto Caribbean Carnival, formerly known as Caribana, is a festival of Caribbean culture and traditions held each summer in the city of Toronto, Ontario, Canada. It is a pan-Caribbean Carnival event and has been billed as North America’s largest street festival…” – Wikipedia
  
  image courtesy of Caribana Toronto
  
  It’s funny yeah I went through a phase of partying lots and hopped around different crowds and subcultures. I came to realize that there’s no such thing as original. Everything has been done before and if you look through history, it’s all a matter of how ideas and concepts are applied in different contexts, which is arguably what innovation is.
  
  Look at Apple. They took design concepts and applied them to technology, not just on the aesthetics of their products but on the functionality as well.
  
  On that note (veering a bit here), creativity tends to come out during hardships which is why there tends to be a lot of vibrancy that can really come out of oppression and poverty. If we observe the arts & culture that come out from the lower end of the scale (like the ones I came across when I was partying) and then compare it to the couture, fancy stuff, you will notice that the high end stuff resemble the low end ones, polished it up; case in point of what Thierry Mugler’s works reminded me of. He may not have directly come into contact with the environments and settings I speak of but it’s very possible that he came about it via social osmosis. He’s also gay and during his time it was still not as widely accepted as it is now, potentially causing him some oppression. His works that are loud, proud, and colourful may very well have been the parts of him that have been subjugated causing the expressive and creative blowback.
  I don’t know Mugler personally nor have I done extensive research on him so if you know better, please correct me if I’m mistaken.
  
  I drew my observations from experience, as an artist, having worked with different people formally in the trade and via informal, collaborative projects.
  
  But speaking of crazy shit, here’s more.
  
  There are plenty of insights within these works. If I were to write about it, it’ll just end up being a fucking thesis paper so if you’re interested in the meanings and motivations of this great artist (and how he impacted his time as he still does now), look him up.
  
  After Mugler’s section, I checked out other exhibits and funny enough, as much as I love the previous works I’ve shown you, this happens to be my favourite because it made me feel a deep sense of peace.
  
  It’s by Albert Biestadt who’s known for his paintings of the American west. This is apparently somewhere in the Rockies and was painted during a rapid development in the 1800’s (ie. colonial times). While those times were shit, it doesn’t discount the fact that coming across this painting, I felt at peace.
  
  It was a nice contrast to Thierry Mugler’s works, especially since it was right beside it. It felt like walking into something completely subjective with expressions coming from deep within (Mugler’s) to something, still subjective (which art isn’t?) but, more objective via a landscape.
  
  I really appreciate both paradigms: the insanity and noise of the city vs the silence of nature. Somewhere in between, lies our own inner voice.
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  Posted in Arts & Culture, Travel | 0 Comments | Tagged art, brooklyn, brooklyn museum, colonialism, couture, culture, diversity, fashion, france, french, german, graffiti, lgbtq, mta, mugler, native american, new york, new york city, north america, NYC, street art, subway, thierry mugler, ttc, usa
- 5 Examples of How The Languages We Speak Can Affect the Way We Think
  
  Posted at 3:23 am by Gelene Celis, on February 6, 2023
  Economist Keith Chen starts today’s talk with an observation: to say, “This is my uncle,” in Chinese, you have no choice but to encode more information about said uncle. The language requires that you denote the side the uncle is on, whether he’s related by marriage or birth and, if it’s your father’s brother, whether he’s older or younger.
  
  “All of this information is obligatory. Chinese doesn’t let me ignore it,” says Chen. “In fact, if I want to speak correctly, Chinese forces me to constantly think about it.”
  
  This got Chen wondering: Is there a connection between language and how we think and behave? In particular, Chen wanted to know: does our language affect our economic decisions?
  
  Chen designed a study — which he describes in detail in this blog post — to look at how language might affect individual’s ability to save for the future. According to his results, it does — big time.
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- Parcs de Montagne – Quebec, January 2022
  
  Posted at 5:50 pm by Gelene Celis, on February 6, 2022
  I had two days off that I needed to use up by the end of the January 2022, before I lost out on them. I wasn’t originally going to use them – everything is in lockdown. Coldwater diving isn’t really my thing (yet? I made friends with a coldwater instructor and I have yet to take him up on his invitations) and we don’t have mountains out here in Ontario for hiking. Days for doing nothing are great and I do like my stay-in-bed-all-day days but I wasn’t feeling it. I was so ready to lose those days off. I didn’t care. If there’s nothing to do, I’d rather work.
  
  Then I found out that Quebec has mountains.
  
  I booked those days off so fast.
  
  I’m definitely a lot better equipped than last year’s trip.
  
  img courtesy of Amazon
  
  I had invested in a good pair of hiking boots. I forgot the model name and I think it’s been discontinued but the brand is Ecco. Before I purchased it, I read a whole bunch of reviews and read up on materials. Gore-tex is apparently like hardcore moisture-wicking and keeps you dry as it’s waterproof. I thoroughly searched online, went to several stores, read hundreds of reviews… it was not an easy task. I can’t find the review that prompted me to choose this but it was a frustrated mountaineer who gave it 2 out of 5 stars. She went off about how she has used it for several years, constantly climbing mountains with rugged terrains in North America and Europe but it gave in at 35km in extreme weather (-25°C near the summit) when she went to her third mountain in Nepal under conditions mildly similar to some places I would trek.
  But my thought was, it only caved in Nepal in that weather after other numerous mountains?
  
  Sold.
  
  I’m thinking she was probably just pissed at the inconvenience and frustration of having your gear fail on you in those crazy situations. I don’t blame her; I know what it’s like to have shit go sideways when you’re out there, you’re exhausted and you’re nowhere near comfort and warmth. Those are times when I ask myself why I’m doing this in the first place… but it’s Gore-tex, not some enchanted, magical crystal from Krypton.
  
  I get a lot of remarks on choosing to hike more during the winter. I get it: what kind of moron would go out and explore nature during the season of staying in and having hot chocolate by the fireplace?
  
  It’s understandable – our species as modern humans are about 200,000 years old, and we migrated to cold places only about 45,000 years ago. What were they thinking? Fracking idiots… or maybe they were like me when I first started hiking in the cold, “I have this, this, this, and this. That’s good. Let’s roll.” Then I learned along the way and adapted, as I still do.
  
  Don’t get me wrong: I like warm weather hiking too especially during the fall but the snow tends to insulate the noise. The snow also adds more visual texture which makes it even more appealing to me. I’m not a big fan of summer hiking though; there are bugs, bears aren’t in hibernation, and humans tend to be more confident in attacking you. People I come across are mostly nice but it’s not just forest animals we have to look out for especially when you’re alone which is why I brought bear mace for wildlife and pepper spray for assholes.
  I got a hunter’s knife as well and a strong flashlight. I learned my lesson from last year when my brother and I inadvertently ended up night hiking because we got lost. Sometimes we go through emotionally/mentally jarring experiences in life and when we get out of it, we’re a bit different. In time, in the accumulation of these things, sometimes we turn out to be a different person entirely. I hope for your sake that you’re not the same person because otherwise it just means that you didn’t learn and grow from it.
  Don’t let your suffering go to waste. Let yourself evolve.
  
  But do you remember that feeling of safety and comfort as a child? When you were cradled in your bed feeling like everything will be OK? As an adult choosing to explore these elements, there are obviously safety measures we need to take… but all adulting aside, when I’m out there in the middle of the thick snow and woods, I’m brought back to those moments. I don’t know why or how but sometimes it just feels like one big makeshift, natural pillow fort. And the tricky trails remind me of physical obstacles when I would play fight with my cousin and friends.
  I often stop and pause to relish these moments when I’m out there but unlike hiking in warm weather, that pause is limited.
  
  Winter hiking is great but you have to keep moving.
  
  ===================================
  
  Montreal & Cowansville, QC (arrival night)
  
  I arrived at my AirBnB late on Friday night. I could’ve checked in around sunset if I wanted to but I popped by Montreal to visit a friend. After which, I headed right to my lodging in Cowansville, QC.
  
  It was a cute, quaint town. I didn’t really have time to explore so I don’t have any media there. Everyone I came across spoke French to me, by default so I had to keep saying “I don’t speak French.” I only really know Oui, Bonjour/Bonsoir, Merci and C’est chaud!
  
  I unpacked my things and called it a night. I didn’t sleep well though. I was, in Tagalog, namamahay. It’s one of those words that you can technically translate but it’s not quite right (“living”). The nuance is not there but it essentially means something along the lines of adjusting to one’s new environment so you’re having trouble operating at your usual pace/comfort because you’re not quite used to its vibe yet.
  
  With the lack of sleep and these lockdowns taking a toll on my overall fitness, I decided to do 2 moderate-rated hikes as a warm-up.
  
  ===================================
  
  Parc d’environnement naturel de Sutton (Day 1)
  
  PENS Parking & Entrance Area
  
  Round Top and Lake Spruce Loop
  
  Just a note: you don’t have to print your tickets if you get them in advance. I thought I had to but just make sure you can access it offline on your phone (there’s reception there but the data is finicky even though you have full bars). When you get to the entrance (where there’s access to all of the trails from that point), you show your ticket then they give you a pass that you have to either tie on your stuff or your clothing. Park rangers checked it on me a couple times.
  
  I printed my tickets because I thought it was like Banff where you have to print it and place it on your dashboard… but that info wasn’t on the receipt nor tickets so I didn’t know. I ended up grabbing a Sharpie and a random piece of paper where I wrote all the details of my Banff pass which I placed on the dashboard in hopes that it was enough for me not to get a violation note.
  
  Anyway, it was -20°C/-4°F that day. I wasn’t really that worried. I hiked up in Banff at that temperature before. It’s doable for sure but it isn’t without its challenges apart from the trail itself. In that weather, you can get frostbite in less than a minute of bare exposure. I kept pulling and pushing down my neck scarf because my cheeks were starting to hurt but if it’s up all the time then it’s just mucus wet, moist, and gross.
  
  I was dehydrated too. It was just so cold that I didn’t want to take my hands out of my gloves. The gloves take away so much of your dexterity but maybe I just needed to get used to them because the next day, I was able to (very slowly and clumsily) take out my drinks/food from my backpack, undo the cap/open up the lids with my gloves on.
  
  It was so cold that I was wearing my goggles not just to protect my eyes from snow blindness but also from the cold. Yes, I felt my eyeballs getting cold especially from when the winds blew directly on my face.
  And no, my nose wasn’t colder because I had a septum piercing (people were asking). I was pretty surprised myself as I anticipated that would suck but it didn’t. If you’ve got piercings though and you get cold (happens to some), I would suggest getting plastic or acrylic retainers.
  I don’t know much about goggles but there are varying degrees of sun protection, as I learned. I just got one with minimal protection since I’m not skiing or snowboarding or anything.
  
  The key to staying warm is to keep moving. It wasn’t a problem during the ascents. Mind your cardio.
  
  working up a sweat
  
  About halfway up, the irritations started kicking in, “Why am I doing this again? I’m fucking exhausted! I want soup! I hate my life!” 🤬
  
  I’m not a mountaineer myself but I have a couple of friends who are (very technical, more hardcore terrains, much higher elevations, at least a couple days) and they understand the struggles along with common misconceptions. It’s fun but it’s not all unicorn farts. Everything has a price including this one. It is very difficult to explain when you’re not in love with it to the point where you invest so much of your efforts, time, and money.
  
  Someone mentioned to me that when you’re out in the woods, especially when alone, everything comes out: your joys, fears, anger, your denials… but after finishing an intense hike that comes with inner and outer turmoil, sometimes it feels like a soul cleansing. I always feel emotionally lighter after an intense hike.
  
  I’m veering off a bit but one of my more prevailing thoughts during my trip was about Ramadan. During Ramadan, practicing Muslims fast (no eating/drinking after the sunrise and before the sunset). I’ve always thought it was more of a religious thing but after being good friends with a couple Muslims, I was informed that they do it more to teach themselves to appreciate the value of what they have. In a sense, to empathize with millions of people all over the world who have to go through great lengths and/or struggle for food and water… to remind them of our privilege and, despite striving for better, to not forget to be thankful for what they have.
  Beautiful 💕
  
  The discomfort of the cold makes me appreciate the warmth of my bed more. I’m able to enjoy the cold weather because I’m privileged enough to have that security. Some people don’t (sidenote: if you live in Toronto, you can call “311” if you see homeless people out in the cold and a team will be dispatched to assist).
  
  Along the way, we come into struggles and moments when we forget about the initial spark that inspired us to do it, to begin with. We tend to pacify “negative” emotions but, unless it’s a reaction that was prompted by something inaccurate or incomplete information (in which case we should clarify if it’s detrimental) or directly related to a fact which we can either change or solve, I don’t believe in it. There’s plenty things in this world we can’t change and naturally, we may initially react. It’s very human to do so. One of the many lessons I’m reminded of when I do these things is that we need to monitor and accept these sensations, thoughts, and emotions. We need to acknowledge its presence and, if it doesn’t serve a productive purpose (like some fear can be good so we can take precautions just as a little bit of anxiety is good fuel for get-shit-done mode): let it pass through our bodies, minds, hearts then let it go. Otherwise, it’s just excess baggage stuffed by superficial reassurances and oppression. We all have baggage because it comes with the package of Life but throughout our journeys, we load and unload as our paths would have it. This is why I think it’s important to make time for mindfulness when we can.
  
  It’s good to strive to be a better person but how do we do that when we deny ourselves our own humanity? Don’t silence your own heart for fear of the unknown that lies deep within yourself.
  
  Sometimes meditation and therapy come in the form of mountains, the woods, and old man winter
  
  This trail is mostly challenging due to non-stop ascents. The terrain isn’t rugged or anything but the peak itself was rather difficult (and fun!) to get to.
  
  This part was a bunch of steep stairs that were covered in snow and ice. I can’t imagine being able to do this without crampons (I can’t stress this enough for deep winter hikes: get the spiked ones, not the studded ones). The walking sticks really helped. The trails out here are doable without it for the most part but walking sticks turn this whole thing from a lower-body workout to a full-body workout. Without it, your legs do most of the work (if you’re not climbing which I didn’t have to do here). With the sticks, you can use your arms to help propel yourself up so your upper body gets a workout too… in case you care about these things like I do.
  
  When you arrive though, you tend to forget about the troubles of what it took to get there.
  
  View from the peak
  
  The temperature was -20°C/-4°F but once you get to around 100m/325ft+ elevation (from starting point; I don’t know the exact height of the peak), you start to feel the temperature gradually drop so I didn’t stay up for too long. I just drank some water and ate a protein bar which felt more like hard candy due to the cold.
  
  Much of this is about the journey apart from the goal. Don’t take it against yourself if you can’t reach the peak either. Life happens. Lessons are learned. Now you know. Now you’re wiser. Enjoy the ride.
  
  Having said that, descending from steep slopes where you can slide is fun fun fun! 😊
  
  I got water-resistant pants this time. It’s the bomb. It kept me warm without a thermal under the same temperature in the city. I loved it and I’m glad I finally got one (I was just in thermals and jeans last time).
  
  Everyone had trouble getting down. You can’t see it from the video but some rocks, which were part of the stairs, were just covered with treacherous black ice.
  
  After this, everything was pretty much a breeze (all puns intended). Descending is usually more challenging due to the whole balance thing but this was easy, in my opinion. The only part that sucked was that all the mucus that kept flowing from my nose to my neck scarf was now frozen. I was seriously getting worried about my cheeks which were starting to hurt about a quarter way down (30-45 minutes).
  
  I finished this trail around noon so I had time for one more. I really wanted some soup though so I went to town (Sutton, super cute – again, no photos, unfortunately. I was very hike-centric).
  
  It’s funny ’cause I would hike out in the mountains in extreme weather but once I got to town, I was looking for parking right across the restaurant because I didn’t want to walk more than 1 minute in the cold. Go figure.
  
  My neck scarf was 100% cotton which I got for my barely-equipped trip last year (still not bad for keeping you warm) was now wet and iced up, I popped by Bonnetier to get a new one.
  “I’m looking for a neck scarf.”
  “How about this one?” The salesperson handed me a black one. I felt it up with my hands.
  “Yeah, that looks like it would be good.”
  She then walks around the store and grabs a couple more. We feel the fabric with our fingers and hands.
  “I don’t think these would be enough”, she said.
  “Yeah, I agree. I think the very first one you showed me is best.”
  “It’s Merino Wool.”
  “Oh. That one for sure then.”
  
  Icebreaker
  
  Bonnetier
  
  I used to diss Merino Wool as it’s costly and I didn’t really feel the difference. Granted, I’ve never used it in extremely cold weather hiking. I initially didn’t think it warranted any counts of investment on my behalf but since so many people swear by it, I decided to get a base layer to test it out (not much of an advantage for me when I’m in the city and/or just lounging around). I brought my moisture-wicking Merino Wool (250 fabric weight) base layer and my polyester/cotton blend ones.
  
  The latter is actually just as warm but they weren’t moisture-wicking and oh man did I feel the difference… but I didn’t know better until Day 2 since I didn’t wear it on this day. I did feel significantly colder in comparison to when I started though the temperature didn’t drop. Whereas Merino Wool did wick away my sweat and therefore, I stayed warm. Sometimes different settings equals different results especially if it’s of a technical/mechanical nature.
  
  For reference, it’s good to have moisture-wicking fabric especially if you’re doing activities in cold weather. When you’re hot, you sweat. When you’re not moving and/or you start to cool down and the sweat doesn’t leave your body, the sweat cools then you get colder. I knew all this in theory but I still wanted to test out the difference for myself.
  
  Next time around if I go hiking in -20°C/-4°F weather, I would double-tuque too. If you shave your head or you’re balding or something, I would suggest you do the same. Once I got to the peak, my shaved head was not very warm anymore. My discontinued tuque was impressive though. I didn’t start feeling cold up until I reached the peak and that was definitely colder than when I initially started off.
  It wouldn’t be a bad idea to double glove too. Maybe have the thinner gloves with screen touch then top it off with the winter heavy-duty ones. Under normal conditions, my hand warmers are so warm to the point where it feels like it’s burning but when it’s this cold, my fingers were still starting to get frostbite with the heavy-duty gloves on.
  
  I drove back to the entrance of the park. I had to put my car heater on full blast otherwise the anti-freeze fluid would just freeze on my windshield.
  
  L’Arrault, Vieux Chemin and Descent of Lake Vogel
  
  After I finished my soup and put on my new warm 🥰 neck scarf, I headed back to PENS for my next trail. I picked a shorter one with less elevation. The sun sets around 17:00 and it starts to get dark around 16:00. Right around when it starts to get dark, the temperatures drop too… and I didn’t want to inadvertently hike out at night again.
  
  I finished this one around 16:30. It was significantly colder at this point. I wasn’t wearing the moisture-wicking fabric. I was cold AF.
  
  I drove back to the town where I was staying. I picked up an insulated bottle (nope, didn’t have them, “None of them have a flip-lock lid. It’ll be too much of a hassle to open up in the cold. I’ll be fine. I didn’t have problems last time.”) because throughout the entire time I was hiking, I kept wishing I had a warm drink.
  
  ===================================
  
  Mont Orford via Sentier du Ruisseau des Chênes (Day 2)
  
  It was warmer the next day (-15°C/5°F) which was perfect for this trail.
  
  I was still pretty tired from the day before so I just kinda stayed in bed for a few hours and stretched.
  
  This trail was supposedly going to take about 5 hours so I had time. I usually add 30 minutes to an hour padding for breaks and the unknown though. I had never done this trail before so I didn’t know what to expect and how I’m going to interact with it. I read up on it but knowing things, in theory, can only go so far. And theory is concluded by other people and their experiences. Unless it’s cold, hard facts, I’m sure my truths will overlap with theirs but I like to discover my own just as I would encourage everyone to do the same. It’s good to belong or take part in communities without losing your individuality in this sense.
  
  I wore my Merino Wool, moisture-wicking base thermal then. I was super excited to test as to whether or not this feature actually made a difference.
  
  I didn’t have an appetite and since I was just doing the one trail, I figured I could afford to go for a couple hours on an empty stomach… yeah I fucked up there as I found out later lol. I thought I was just out of shape and I did lose a lot of my fitness due to facilities closing with all these lockdowns but no, as I found out the next day, I just didn’t fuel well enough.
  
  Towards the latter part of the trail was a cross-country skiing/snowshoeing trail. I came across groups of people who were essentially cross-country skiing their way up and then skiing down. There was one last very steep ascent. I saw a woman struggling her way up. WTF? “I’m getting tired just looking at you!” I yelled out. It looked insane.
  
  Judging from this graph, that incline was probably about 60° to 70° which is, for me, apparently actually (as I found out) not that bad… but skiing up? Fuck that shit.
  The lady kept slipping down and hey man if you can do this: hats off to you but… damn.
  I was glad I had my walking sticks. It was doable without it but very difficult, especially with ice and snow. I imagine without the snow, I would’ve had to use my hands and climb up.
  
  This was the third significantly steep incline in this trail. There was another one before it that was probably about just a little less than a quarter of a km (.155 miles) that was nothing but rocks, ice, and snow. I had a lot of fun interacting with it on my way up (not sarcasm).
  
  As I figured my way up, I simultaneously thought about how sucky it would be to get down from. “Shh. Focus on your ascent,” I thought to myself. I came across several viewpoints and debated on backing out after the third one. I was just so tired (and lacking in food in my system)… but every time the thought of turning back came, I look at how far I’ve come and thought, “You’ve gone this far. Don’t stop now.”
  
  It was the exact same thought I had when I came across the part of the trail that was a ski/snowboarding area. I did read a good review that mentioned the ski trail bit but I just really didn’t want to turn back. When you set out to do something, turning back can be heartbreaking. Defeat is probably one of the more difficult losses to accept, as a human being… so I ascended on the side of the ski/snowboard trail. Along the way, a skier and a snowboarder almost hit me. Nearing the peak, I decided that I was going to take the lift down because this was just too much of a hassle and a hazard. It was a Sunday too so there were relatively a lot of people.
  
  I approached the operator when I got to the top, “Can I take the lift down?”
  “Do you have a ski pass?”
  “No.”
  “Then no.”
  “Well, where I can buy it?”
  “At Customer Services down there.”
  “…how am I supposed to go and buy it there to take a ride from here?”
  “No.”
  “Can I buy it here? Can I just pay you?”
  “No.”
  Then he just left me and went back into his quarters.
  
  “Fuck. I guess I’m hiking down.” I thought. I went to a viewpoint area and had a snack. There was a huge part of me that was not accepting the fact that I have to hike down. It just felt too dangerous. Then I saw several safety folks who were wearing a red jackets with a white cross on them. I approached one of the guys, “Hi. I hiked up here and this was part of the trail but I think this part was meant for summer.” I then showed him my map. “Can I take the ski lift down? I don’t have a ticket but I’ll buy one when I get down there.”
  
  “Oh, okay. Stay here.” He then went to speak to the operator then he came back to me, “Okay. We’re going to trust you, okay? You have to buy a ski ticket in Customer Services once you get down there. We’re letting you ride because we can’t let you kill people by going down that way again.”
  “Thank you!”
  “You have to pay, okay?”
  “Yes! Of course. I will.”
  What a relief.
  
  I went to Customer Services once I got down but they essentially just let it go, “Oh don’t worry about it. Nobody takes the lift down. Thank you for your honesty.”
  
  I still really wanted to finish the trail though so I debated on going back the next day but I wasn’t sure if I’d be too exhausted. I mean, I was planning on just doing a quick and easy hike before I headed back home.
  
  Mont Orford via Sentier du Ruisseau des Chênes (Take 2, Day 3)
  
  I woke up the next morning, determined. I had a good amount of sleep. I packed my stuff and decided to eat a proper breakfast… and that proper meal made all the difference.
  
  I just loved this trail.
  
  It had such a variety of terrains, diverse landscapes, frozen falls, and visual/tactile textures. In some areas, I had to lean on tree trunks, grab onto branches, maneuver way around iced rocks, and I had several chances to slide down at some points 🥰
  
  I used my iPhone 11 for everything by the way. As I’ve mentioned in one of the videos, I didn’t have a sports cam. I would’ve brought my sports cam but that went kaput in Calgary when hiked at -20°C/-4°F. I’ve never had electronics break on me due to natural conditions (except for that one time underwater). I knew extreme weather can cause it to malfunction but my mentality is, “If I, a human, can live through this then so can that.”
  Wrong. Don’t leave your phone under the sun either. Sheesh.
  
  I got a little insulator bag (from the dollar store) for my electronics this time around (solar power charger, cables, phone, portable speaker) but I just never got around to replacing the sports cam. I’d get the GoPro but the fact that its underwater housing can only withstand pressure up to 20m/65ft is a turn-off for me. I don’t dive all that often but I just want that one camera when I’m hiking and/or doing other things on land and for underwater shots. I haven’t looked into it yet but when I do, I’m sure I’ll probably write about it too.
  
  My media does not do these places any justice… but at the same time, I can’t imagine lugging around a frickin’ DSLR when you’re trying to climb and figure your way up & down and then maneuvering the settings when your fingers are numb. In this weather (-10°C to -15°C/14°F to 5°F) I can see how it’s doable. But any colder than that and it’s just… ah I don’t know. We’ll see. I mean just several years ago, I was the type who would barely ever wanna go out when it’s cold, and yet here I am loving it 🤷🏽‍♀️
  
  I turned back once I came to the skiing/snowboard part but I essentially finished it for about half the time compared to the day before even with my more frequent hydrating and snack breaks. I was pretty surprised myself. It was -10°C/14°F. I still felt the temperature drop as I ascended but I think it’s safe to say that this temperature is the sweet spot for me. I was sweating profusely underneath all my layers. I know it’s going well when I get the urge to take off my layers in this weather because I was warming up so much. I even took my tuque off at some points because of how much I’ve warmed up.
  
  In case you want to take up winter hiking, I would suggest starting around this temperature. It has other downsides though… like, because it’s not as crazy cold, the snow and ice were starting to melt. This could be a good thing or a bad thing depending on their mood. When the ice starts melting, you can safely plant your walking sticks and/or shoes with crampons(!) and have more solid footing OR the ice is melting and therefore you’re left with nothing but very slippery black ice right by steep ledges. If you like the thrill of that though, then you will be excited and scared just as I was. This trail had a mix of that so when I was dealing with steep inclines, I had to keep poking around for solid footing. Parts of the trail still had snow up to my knees. It wasn’t quite as crazy as Banff where I got stuck on snow that was thigh high (wrong estimation on the poking and one of my legs just got buried and it took me a good minute to get myself out. I was lucky there was ground underneath as it was on the trail but this can be very perilous if the snow is just hanging by the side of a ledge as you could fall straight down so be careful)
  
  Sometimes hiking mountains feels like getting to know a person very closely and intimately. You interact with the layers of soil, its different landscapes, viewpoints, flat areas, steep areas, thickly wooded areas, plain grounds, bodies of water, wildlife that inhabit it… and in turn, you get to know yourself better… much like when we interact with other people from different walks of life: we get to know and explore different parts of ourselves because we’re given new perspectives.
  
  It’s funny how worried I was about the descent but it was actually not that bad. There were even some of those inclines where I could slide down, so I did. I used my elbows to dig down the snow to slow me down when I was going the wrong way. You can pivot your body around too. I don’t snowboard nor ski but I imagine if you do, you must know this. If you’ve ever gone caving, you’ll know this too. This is why I love these activities; it’s very tactile and physically interactive with the environment. I tried to capture it but I kept failing (pressed the record twice on the first attempt, dropped my phone which slid all the way down on the second attempt #BrainFarts).
  
  “Do you have good crampons?” A lady asked me.
  “Yeah.”
  “I saw people doing that too. Maybe they didn’t have the proper equipment.”
  “Oh. Yeah, I have the proper equipment but I slide because… it’s fun.”
  “Fun is good. Have fun!”
  “I am having fun!” 😊
  
  On my way down, I came across several people. Some were panting and resting and frowning due to exhaustion much like myself when I started. “I’m trying to pace myself but whew!” said one woman.
  “Oh yeah, no it’s not easy. It’s worth it though. Goodluck!”
  “Thank you! Have a nice day!”
  
  Finishing the trail felt good. I wish Ontario had mountains but at least now I know if I need a quick fix, I could just hop on over next door.
  
  Merci, Quebec.
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  Posted in Arts & Culture, Travel | 0 Comments | Tagged canada, cowansville, forest, french, hiking, mont orford, mountains, nature, Parc d’environnement naturel de Sutton, pens, quebec, sutton, Travel
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