|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
HONG
KONG
|
|
|
|
|
|
CANADA
|
|
|
|
EUROPE
|
|
|
|
USA
|
|
|
|
INDONESIA
|
|
|
|
|
SINGAPORE
|
|
|
|
|
|
THAILAND
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Philippines |
|
A Batanes pastoral |
|
Source: Inquirer |
Author: Elizabeth Lolarga |
Date: 1999-05-23 |
|
|
IF actress Claire Danes had gone to
Batanes, she would have come away
with the scent of the pounding sea in
her nostrils and the memory of a folk, whole in body and soul,
who do not fail to nod hello as they pass by you on their bikes,
scooters or motorcycles.
Perhaps the brouhaha over her candid comments about life in
Manila wouldn't have occurred, and instead the good news
about one spot of paradise would have reached the world.
She wouldn't have minded staying an extra day because of the
erratic nature of the air transport service--Laoag International
Airlines (LIA)--and would have found reasons to linger in this
northernmost island province where one must ''be ready for
whatever blows your way,'' in the gently couched warning of
Trek Batanes writer Liz Reyes.
And if she had bothered to traverse the length of Batan and
cross the Ivana Channel to reach the magical isle of Sabtang
with a companion named R, her diary would be chockful of
impressions, and it would read this way.
Day One (Friday)
Left Baguio for Laoag at
8:45 p.m. last night on
Partas Transit, taking two
bags of clothes, some
toiletries and a litro-size
Coke bottle filled with
distilled water. Slept
through much of the 5-hour
trip.
R nudges me awake when we reach the Partas terminal at 1:20
a.m. We stay at the waiting area where there is a TV set tuned to
the Pinoy Blockbuster Channel. He watches three Tagalog
movies in a row.
I stretch out on one of the long benches for waiting commuters,
using his luggage as my pillow, and manage to steal some
shut-eye. Up again at 5 a.m. for a 10-minute tricycle ride to the
Laoag International Airport. The streets are deserted but well-lit
and the morning chill whips our faces.
When we arrive the airport is dark, except for a light in the
departure area. I can't possibly grope my way to the ladies' room
so I go behind a tree to pee in the darkness, but not before
saying ''Tabi, tabi po'' to the invisible spirits. Eugene's Store
opens, and we each have a cup of coffee. While R goes off to
inquire about our tickets, a man comes up to me to ask if I am an
Ivatan. No, I say, I'm a first-time visitor to Batanes. He smiles.
The airport is a brick-and-glass structure with graceful arches.
All it lacks is a chimney and temperate mornings. Actually, it
looks like a church so I must correct myself. All it lacks is a huge
crucifix on top of it. Cocks crowing all over. Morning comes.
Delay! The expected 40-seat Fokker plane doesn't arrive. No
definite word from the LIA ticketing office, though, to explain
why we can't fly out. Only a 9-seat plane, RP-C678, is available,
and it has hauled out the first nine passengers. We have to wait
for it to return at 10 a.m.
We get a chance to chat with some Ivatan travellers who have
grown accustomed to these delays, to promises of planes that
are a no-show. One is toting two brown puppies in a carton box
with round holes. He lets the puppies loose on the grounds
while we wait. There are more than a dozen of us expecting the
next two flights.
I pray we can get on the second plane as already a wealth of
time has been wasted just by waiting for the 19-seater to arrive
from Manila. There is time to order breakfast for two at
Eugene's. We have steamed rice, chopped tomatoes, two pieces
each of longganisa and scrambled eggs. Our food bill comes up
to P61, and the proprietress knocks off P1.
I shouldn't have taken my Bonamine so early, mistakenly
thinking that I'd get on the 7 a.m. plane. I have to take the pill
again right before our flight is confirmed. R fears we might be on
the third and last batch. I would've wanted to visit the Laoag
church just to fill up the time.
At 11 a.m. Eugene's rings out with the sound of Chinese being
spoken loudly by Taiwanese stewardesses and a steward from
Trans Asia Airways. They disembark from their plane to buy
dried mangoes, Magnolia ice cream packed in styropor
containers and fresh buko juice poured into white plastic bottles
at P80 per jug. Even flight attendants must have their share of
pasalubong from the Philippines.
A woman bound for Basco hears that there are 15 confirmed
Batanes-bound passengers from Manila leaving in the 19-seat
plane, so that leaves only four seats when it taxies into the
Laoag airport. I wonder if we'll be given priority.
1:45 p.m. Airborne at last in a chartered plane, Seair RP-C748. It
is R's calling card that finally facilitates our being issued tickets
at P2,000 each for this flight. While waiting for the plane to
arrive, we have time for a leisurely lunch--rice and pinakbet for
him, rice and a soothing fish sinigang with lots of tomatoes for
me. There is even time for me to brush my teeth.
Arrive at Basco airport at 2:45 p.m. to a drizzle. R and I turn to
each other, and I voice what's on our minds: ''Where to now?'' A
tricycle ferries us to Ivatan Lodge on the National Road. We get
a P400-a-night room just for tonight. Tomorrow we move to a
lower room rate (P100 for a single bed). Tonight we might enjoy
the matrimonial bed, if R is not too exhausted. He has had very
little sleep.
We learn from the lady who welcomes us to the inn and who
opens the room for us that R's University of the Philippines
College Baguio (UPCB) colleagues are occupying Rooms 4 and
5 across from our Room 7. I leave a note for Del Tolentino, who
is part of the teaching staff of the training workshop on
''Historical Methodologies Toward a Grassroots Reconstruction
of Local History,'' but when we get to the Philippine Information
Agency, we learn he and the other teachers are at the provincial
capitol.
Before we go there we have a merienda of delicious, freshly
made sugar-raised doughnuts and ice-cold Coke at the St.
Dominic's College canteen. While on our way to the PIA office,
a little boy suddenly darts from across the street, gets hold of
my right hand and raises it to his forehead in the traditional
greeting to the elderly. How sweet! R says the boy must think
I'm his fat ninang.
Del and Ben Tapang come out of the capitol's human resources
development room to greet us. Del takes us to Mama Lily's Inn
nearby so we can make a reservation for dinner.
Dinner is a huge cracked lobster, fried ogmo (a cousin of the
lapu-lapu), another ogmo dish, this time a stew with malunggay
leaves, a whole llanera of leche flan, and unlimited rice. Our bill
for the virtual feast: a reasonable P300. We walk back to the
lodge in the dark (no streetlamps), Ben lighting the way with his
flashlight.
|
|
|
|