Ilonggo Summer

I’ve been tossing and turning in my seat as to how I should start this travelogue. Should I open with a question? A good start for a newbie, but not for me. How about a quote from a famous writer or a popular line? Yukkk! I thought of letting the material get regurgitated for some time and put it in print some other time. No! It’s summer and there’s so much to write.

Oriental Gardens, Makati. March 28. So I write, anyway.

My apology for the disorganized narration. I suspect this one would. So much went on last week since Nympha and his hubby went with me to Boracay. Yes, it was my first, so you can simply imagine my excitement. Bought our plane tickets months before, booked our hotel even earlier. Last 16th of March, we finally pushed for the trip in spite my swollen tonsils and raging fever two nights before. In fact, I was still burning with fever two hours before the plane left. You might ask, why push for the trip considering the fever and stuffs? Considering Boracay, the months of waiting, I ask, “What fever?”









So this is Boracay? White sand caressed by sea waters that stretches from, ahm, white sand, washed-off green algae, aqua, blue... o, just look at the pictures. And where are the boys?! The rippling abs! The bulging guns! The chest! There was none. There was only Nympha and his hubby in an impending altercation. Did I say that? Ganito yun...

We booked a Cebu Pacific flight to Iloilo. Back and forth it’s only Php3,200.00. A direct flight to Caticlan would be more than double the price. To Caticlan we took the bus. According to the hubby (I have yet to coin his name here) it would only take two hours. In the bus, upon paying our tickets, we were told that it’s six hours. Six! Yes. The “konduktor” wasn’t asking me for sex, I’m sure of that. Nympha, the Empress of Oriental Gardens, was furious. Flames were blazing out of his eyelids.

When we arrived in Boracay Terraces (Php9,000.00 a night which we got for only Php7,000.00 for all two nights) the two won’t speak with each other. Nympha even wants to check-in to another hotel. The hubby left and never showed up till early the next day. Regardless of not feeling well, I was the one running to and fro the hotel lobby doing the checking-in. Outside, Nympha was smoking under a gazebo. Hubby was meters away contemplating murdering a nagging queen. I think there was also sunshine, the fabled beach, the spectacular scenery. At that moment, I can’t recall.

On our first night, Hubby was gone. There was only Nympha and me hunting down dinner. Not knowing the place, hungry and exhausted, we spent almost a thousand bucks dining on what seems to be ribs and grilled fish curved out of a styrofoam.

Then back to the hotel. I was burning with fever again.

The next day, Hubby showed up. I’m not going to play cupid again so I left them to explore what I missed yesterday.

One can describe Boracay as a paradise but one has to refrain from using sojourn and respite from city life. There was WIFI and I was emailing everyone on the sands just a couple of meters away from the shore. FYI: there are more than thirty flights in-and-out of Caticlan. Your boss can hunt you down for having a vacation without completing your MS Outlook tasks.

I went further to see what’s on the other end of the island (our hotel is on the farthest end near Bluewaters and Fairways). Upon reaching the other end, I was almost crawling. There was pain all over me. I have to walk a kilometer or so to get a tricycle ride back to our hotel which, I was told, was seven and a half kilometers away. Luckily there was an option. A sailboat. I hired one and I had a fifteen minutes blast... for a whopping Php500.00!

Second night, I can only have mineral water as I was under medication. Again, have to hit the sack early because of fever.

The last morning, the bitching tonsils was calming down and I was back to my happy feet. I grabbed Nympha’s and his hubby’s arms, beach towel, and digital camera. I realized, we were in Boracay and swimming in the beach is allowed, picture taking is legal and running across the street shirtless is the norm. I can still salvage this vacation.

At D’Talipapa, lunch on crustaceans and all kinds of mollusks. What seems to be a mall in the island is creatively called D’Mall, so go figure what’s D’Talipapa.













My trip back to Iloilo was quite pleasant. I can’t put myself to sleep as I was enjoying the scenery. My seat was at the very front of the bus with its wide window that commands a panoramic view of the provincial road and rustic life. Awesome.












As part of my unwavering resolve to take back two days of spoiled vacation in Bora, I decided to stay longer in Iloilo. I checked in at Iloilo Grand Hotel. Like New York’s Grand Central, this hotel is grand and central. With it’s palatial facade, it’s smacked right at the center of the Central Market.

The next day, WIFI over breakfast at the lobby, senatorial candidate Mike Defensor and his staff swooped into the hotel’s lobby. There was a deluge of fans. Clicking of cameras left and right. Call it commotion but I was not interested. As if teasing me with his soon-to-be divine presence, this candidate stood two feet beside me as some old ladies were clamoring pictures with him. I remained immovable as my determination to send some people to hell without my forgiveness. But then again, I am just human. See pic below.

















In Iloilo I met some friends who were an exact replica of my gang in Manila. My night-outs were spent in intelligent conversations mingled with orgasmic laughter. My evenings were like Malate. I have to say, no exaggeration, that Iloilo’s weekend nightlife is second to that of Manila.














The taxis are polite with drivers that surprisingly hand change. And these taxis come in the choice of a Vios, Innova, or brand new latest Sentra. I’m still not exaggerating. Did I say I had Japanese smorgasbord for Php200.00?! No, I did not see any ukay-ukay.
















I was invited to this old house where some rich family was throwing a treat for some religious activity. I thought the quaint house was a restaurant. The family owns it. In fact, last August, the great matron of the family who is now based in Singapore brought here some sixty Singaporean guests which include the governor of the central bank of Singapore and the Chief Justice of Singapore for the wedding of one of the daughters. I was late.

















What is it with provincial food or air that everything in sight comes vividly? I went to my sister’s place, Barotac Viejo, and marveled at how the evening stars appear as constellations without the aid of a Palomar Mountain super-duper telescope. And the flowers explode (yes, I’m exaggerating) with not just yellows and reds but rather in imperial yellow and scarlets. I think it’s the constant grilled fish diet. And fresh oysters.



















And, O, they still do post the professionals in the family. Right there against the facade of their houses.










After an overnight stay at my sister’s far flung town, I went back to the city. Bored, I happened to text a high school friend that I’m in Iloilo. He is now living in Bacolod, married with two kids. His reply: hop in a catamaran and cross the strait of Guimaras. My reply: Ok. Be there in four hours.

Before I left Bacolod, I stopped by my father’s grave. Yes, I had a father. And I also have a heart.












I left Iloilo on Cebu Pacific’s 9 PM flight, Saturday. That evening, my Iloilo gang were texting me that the bars at Smallville were flooded with people.

Good thing I was back with my Manila gang in Malate. Otherwise, one more night in Iloilo immersion would have made me decide to stay foot and brush up on my Ilonggo.

Hmmm...