REMINISCING

I was born during the late fifties -- the era when rock 'n' roll had just started to dawn although Marlon Brando once said in an interview that rock 'n' roll was born way back in the thirties, my mother and father's heydays. I can still remember how my Kuya (Gilbert) would then play his five-string guitar while prodding me on to sing "Let Me Be Your Teddy Bear" by Elvis the Pelvis. He's a big fan of Elvis, you know. My mother would just grin and would give an ear as she goes about her daily household chores.

When I was three, my father (before he died) would take us to his office's Christmas party and would egg me and my older brother to sing in front of his officemates. It was always a case of my mother cajoling me to go up the stage first with me sheepishly refusing unless my brother would do his stint ahead. After him, I would readily render "Love Me Tender" to the delight of my father who endlessly beamed with pride. All these are but reminiscences after a year has passed and with my father gone.

During grade school days, I was a bit of a "star" in school. I would often be asked to sing for my classmates in a number of impromptu programs organized by one of my teachers. This was, of course, before regular classes commenced. Before my turn, I would sing to myself so as not to falter later on. As I was called, I'd stand in front of the class, without much ado and ho-hums, and do my thing, a cappella.

One time, as we were busy preparing for a big school festival where I was asked to sing (the teachers did not hold second thoughts about choosing me as a program participant-performer all because I was too gutsy to stand up and be heard), a schoolmate volunteered to provide my number with a guitar accompaniment. Much to my glee, we practiced real hard "Hurtin' Inside" by the Dave Clark Five. But when it was time for us to perform, we discovered that his guitar, which he carelessly left lying on the table before our number, was just insanely out of tune! If only he thought of properly placing the guitar atop the table with the strings lying flat on the surface, we would not have panicked and be gobbled up by jitters.  Worse yet, my partner hasn't learned the art of tuning his own guitar. Well, as the old adage goes, the show must go on. And it did just as well. The twanging of those out-of-this-world chords to accompany my song left my ears terribly hurting the day after and many more days to come. But despite this minute misfortune, we were applauded, only to find out in the end that the bravado was meant for trying... hard.

My older brother had an above-average guitar player friend for he knew the chords of songs by such biggies then as the Beatles, Zombies and Bee Gees, to name a few. We'd all sit atop our school's fence (which was just a stone's throw away from our house in San Juan) at nighttime and jam to our hearts' content. Those were the good old days.

High school came as I was about to get started playing the guitar on my own. I used to borrow an old beat up guitar from a friend and play my heart out until my fingers were very sore. My Kuya upon seeing me nurturing an interest in music, with my incessant requesting, brought home different songbooks with guitar chords that I may use for practice. But to my dismay, I discovered that the chords and lyrics were erroneous. It was perhaps my penchant for music that made me feel I was right. I even strummed some bars and sang some lines to my Kuya to prove my point. My impish insistence elicited a nod of seeming approval from him.

After some time, my Kuya decided to publish a music magazine. He consulted my mother who, after a series of deliberation, decided to pawn part of our property as bank collateral so as to obtain a sizeable loan to finance our business. My Kuya approached some willing artist-friends and asked them for help in brainstorming the music mag. He also conferred with a lot of musicians (band members, actually) and asked for their share by taking on the task of obtaining the chords and lyrics of what was hitting it big during those days. Thus, JINGLE was born (October 1970, to be exact). The rest is history.

***This was first published in Music of the 60's (Best of JINGLE Series No. 4).

The Personal Pleasure of PUERTO PRINCESA

T'was a short plane trip years ago from Manila to Puerto Princesa Airport. The usual greeters -- drivers/employees actually of big and small hotels -- with placards await outside waving their welcome signs. My wife and I spotted ours in a jiffy. The city proper is lined up with eateries, service-oriented businesses, a sprinkling of fastfood joints, small hotels... a typical urban provincial scenario – busy in a laid back way… unspoilt by the metro’s crass commercialism.

Empire Suites Hotel 

We checked into the Empire Suites Hotel (situated along Rizal Avenue) right in the heart of Puerto Princesa. It is consistently recognized over the years as Traveller's Choice by Trip Advisor. Good part about these 3-star hotel accommodations is that they’re not as tourist-y as the bigger ones and they’re walking distance to some good drop-by-and-enjoy go to’s (for free). And because you want to spend and maximize the day in the sun, you opt for these hotels which are value-for-money night sleep-ins -- crashed into clean comfy beds dead-tired from all the sightseeing and exploring. The hotel staff is well-trained and accommodating, too.

Subterranean National Park 

Photo credit: zenrooms

Our first itinerary that morning -- after partaking of our free buffet breakfast was the biodiverse Puerto Princesa Subterranean National Park, also called the St. Peter Underground River, voted as the new entry into the 7 Wonders of Nature. It was also hailed as UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1999. It is one of the world's longest navigable underground river that boasts of a second floor (off limits to visitors during that time). 

Photo credit: zenrooms

The stalactites and stalagmites are “gigantinormous”! These natural rock formations are just awesome – Mother Nature’s work of art. You simply forget time and the world outside as you weave through the labyrinth of limestone caves – wet, cold, dark and quite eerie, too. 

Photo credit: zenrooms

It is definitely bat territory (the stench can be irritating but bearable overpowered by the magnificence of what the dark has to offer). While paddling (motorized bancas are not allowed inside the cave to prevent diesel emission and mechanical noise from polluting and causing irreparable damage to the pristine caves), our boatman served as our travel guide, dishing out his routinary spiels, pointing to the amusing rock formations above us complete with some naughty anecdotes. These native guides have mastered their way not only through the caves but to the funny bones of their guests as well. 

Outside the caves are lush canopies of trees where wild monkeys dwell. Our eldest son, Juan Paolo (who's visited the place ahead of us), warned that these creatures have adapted to the presence of tourists in the area and (sadly) have learned to snatch food (and grab colourful plastic bags or foil pouches even that look like chips bags). My wife has warned that, as these monkeys eat human food and forage from the garbage which visitors leave behind, they probably have rabies as well. So feeding and petting them is exposing yourself to the danger of being bitten. Animals in their natural habitats should be left to Mother Nature’s care. 

Honda Bay Frolic 

Photo credit: thetripguru

The scheduled Honda Bay tour followed the next day. It is a three-island hopping experience: Starfish, Luli and Cowrie.  The sun, the sand, the sea... If this isn't paradise on earth, what is?

Photo credit: moniqueliveslife

Starfish is a sandbar perfect for snorkeling with cabanas and spa huts for the tired and weary souls longing for some relaxation. 

Luli is another sandbar that is visible only during low tide and is invisible during high tide. The local vernacular “lulubog-lilitaw” explains this island’s shorten name “Lu-li”. “Lulubog” means “to submerge” while “lilitaw” means “to emerge”.

It has a 20-ft. diving platform that I tried, albeit hesitantly. I was egged on by my wife Neri to try it (so I can tick it off from my bucket list of once-in-a-lifetime experiences). Manakot-nakot nga ako. Mataas kasi yung tatalunan at malalim ang tubig. But there was a rescue guy (employed by the local tourism group) to aid first-time divers and non-swimmer thrill-seekers... I opted to swim it out as I hit the water to boost my ego. Madaming nanonood. Nakakahiya... 

Kinabuchs 

With a good tan and aching limbs, we decided to go out for late dinner and a couple of beers afterwards to wash away the fatigue. We asked the hotel concierge where best to go and he points to this open-air native restobar four blocks away from our hotel – Kinabuchs Grill and Bar that was famous for serving exotic cuisine featuring crocodile meat (sisig) in its menu alongside Palawan’s tamilok (woodworm) that are either eaten raw upon harvest or best prepared the kinilaw way. We passed off these gastronomic delicacies and settled for a bilao of steamed seafood instead with ice cold San Mig Lite to chill the night out. (Note: Kinabuchs is owned by Philippine motocrosser Edward "Butch" Chase hence the strange name.)

Iwahig 

Together with our friends Dr. Fritzi Aquias and her husband Sir Leo Aulida (of the PNP Crime Laboratory in Puerto Princesa), we went to Iwahig Prison and Penal Farm located about 20 kilometers away from downtown Puerto Princesa. The 45-minute relaxing drive took us through a long verdant stretch of fire trees, acacia trees and Palawan Cherrie trees endemic to the area. 

Iwahig is recognized as one of the largest open prisons in the world, with an area of around 34,000 hectares, and is a declared National Historical Landmark of the country in 2004. Inmates (or maybe “outmates” would be a more appropriate term) are allowed to roam freely, live with their families and do farm work for a living (the inmates have a share in the harvests) and engage in recreational activities (sports, etc.) inside the colony. There are no bars of cold steel to lock them in. 

Iwahig is a commune that allows for correction that reforms not punishes so that the inmates may be restituted and integrated back to society. After whispered prayers of gratitude for safe travel at the St. Joseph the Worker Church inside the colony, we wandered around until we arrived at the central plaza where a basketball tournament was going on. Penal guards and inmates played together in a team while other guards and families excitedly cheered on the sides. 

Photo credit: sassyfied

We then decided to move on to the massive and historic Recreation Hall – the architecture of which pushes you back in time -- historically dating back to the Hispanic Era. There was an exhibit going on of the so-called “prison art” – wood-burned masterpieces, paintings, miniature art inside bottles, woodwork and native handicrafts. All souvenir pieces were being sold by the inmates themselves who gleefully rendered a song-and-dance production number for us. So moved by their palpable excitement and gratitude for the visit, we had to hold back the tears – not wanting to make them feel pathetic.

Later on, an inmate approached and urged me to buy his work. “Boss, salamat po sa dalaw. Bilhin niyo na po ito. Pansigarilyo lang…” We were told by our two PNP friends not to give money if we were asked or begged. If resources allowed, my wife Neri wanted to buy everything to be of consequential help. But we can only share a substantial amount to a common donation box without taking anything for ourselves in return. 

Looking back, I remember that Fritzie and Leo, police officers that they are, have kept their guard over my wife and I from a distance not wanting to close-in and make anyone feel uncomfortable. Their sharp but barely noticed head flicks or intermittent side gazes when we were approached and spoken to by (friendly) inmates affirmed that “expecting the unexpected” was second nature to law enforcers having been trained to be alert and on-guard at all times (with or without the threat of imminent danger). 

They really took the day off from work to make us feel the Palawano hospitality. Although both of them come from other parts of the Philippines, they decided to settle in Palawan after doing their tour-of-duty as PNP Crime Laboratory specialists. Oh, how they loved their work in Palawan where petty crimes were usually offshoots of drunken melees or land disputes. No stressful SOCO work. They had loved the place so much they built a house (and Dr. Fritzie’s clinic for the barrios) integrating indigenous materials into its architecture. The husband-and-wife team would only fly out once a year to visit family in Manila and the North then hurry back home to Palawan.

Badjao Seafront Restaurant

Photo credit: ladyandhersweetescapes

The four of us had late lunch at Badjao Seafront Restaurant, a restaurant on stilts above the crystal clear waters on the coast of Honda Bay. Wow! What a treat. Its entrance is Mother Nature’s way of preparing your tummy for a gustatory delight. 

Photo credit: ladyandhersweetescapes

To get to the main dining area, we walked through a narrow elevated pathway (of wooden slats) surrounded by tall mangroves. Then you come upon a doorway with a very welcoming “Dayon Camo” sign. 

Photo credit: ladyandhersweetescapes

The interiors are colorful, warm, homey and truly reflective of the culture of the South. Needless to say, the menu is as festive as the whole place – extensive in its local and international cuisine offerings. The service is so full of heart. Good place. Good food. Good conversation. Good company. 

Photo credit: ladyandhersweetescapes

The sea salt in the air is invigorating to the skin as you dine al fresco. Calm waters. Clean air. For a couple of hours, the gods allowed us to enjoy the experience of their sacred sanctuary. 

Palawan Wildlife Rescue and Conservation Center 

Formerly known as Crocodile Farming Institute, there are two types of endemic crocodiles here: the Philippine Freshwater Crocodile or Mindoro Crocodile (Crocodylus Mindorensis) and the Saltwater Crocodile or Indo-Pacific Crocodile (Crocodylus Porosus). We had a very brief stopover here as we were trying to cram in a few more spots in our itinerary. My wife isn't one to enjoy the site of live crocs so she just enjoyed shopping croc-inspired trinkets at the souvenir shop.

Plaza Cuartel 

Reminiscent of Fort Santiago, Plaza Cuartel (ironically also known as Lover's Park) is great in its history but very sad in memory. It once served as a garrison of American and Filipino soldiers until they were invaded by the Japanese. The once stronghold became a prison and a place of suffering and pain. It is the site of the infamous Palawan Massacre. The tunnels where 150 American prisoners of war (POWs) were incarcerated during World War II. But on December 14, 1944, the Japanese decided to kill them all by burning them alive. Many perished but eleven prisoners were able to survive and escape the mass execution. We didn't stay long here either as there was an inexplainable heaviness we felt inside the grounds. 

Mitra’s Ranch 

Photo credit: thepoortraveller

Owned by the family of the late Senator Ramon Mitra, this piece of land is perched on Sta. Monica Heights, which offers a stunning view of the city. Their stable of horses is grand (and so are the thoroughbreds they own), so we heard. But that's off limits to public scrutiny of course. Only the front part of their property is open to tourists. Most of the Mitra estate is kept private, understandably, for security reasons.

Baker's Hill 

Photo credit: thepoortraveller

Who goes home from a trip without the much-awaited pasalubong? It is a tradition that is genetic code of the Pinoy travellers whose national pastime is picture-taking. Baker's Hill, located in Sta. Monica, is situated on a hill hence the name. It is a popular stopover where tourists can hoard over local delicacies for their pasalubongs. Past their bakeshop is a well-tended garden that weaves through a mini-theme park that provides a very good background for photo ops. It was like a small Christmas village with all the trimmings -- except that it was not Christmas then. 

Homebound 

Palawan is an archipelagic island in the MIMAROPA Region and is the largest province in the country in terms of total area of jurisdiction. Puerto Princesa, while classified as a 1st class highly urbanized city in the region, has a quaint rustic charm juxtaposed with modernity you just can't help getting addicted to.  

While future itineraries (after the pandemic of course) include San Vicente, Coron and El Nido (the last two being lesser options because everyone seems to have them on top of their priority list), Puerto Princesa will always be an “unforgettable first time” – one whose memory urges you to come back for more. We will… 

 

Soon.