Roda Novenario – Page 2 – Travel Dive Connect

Posted on May 23, 2016May 20, 2019 by Roda Novenario

Torn Between Two Mindoros

For my mid-summer trip, I went to Mindoro – to both its Oriental and Occidental sides. It was a logistical decision. I had three trips lined up for the next few months. I chose to do this first because I was unsure of the political situation in Lubang Island, Occidental Mindoro, my main point of interest.

It was best to visit before May 2016’s election as their mayor of three terms could not run again. Lubang’s planned ecotourism development was one of Mayor Col. Juan Sanchez’ (Ret.) initiatives.

Sabang, Puerto Galera, Oriental Mindoro was added to the mix because I wanted to dive along the Verde Island Passage, referred to by marine conservationists as the “center of the center of marine shorefish biodiversity.” The passage separated Luzon and Mindoro, and it was one of the busiest naval thoroughfares in the country. Some of the best spots to dive were sites near Verde Island, which was only 40 minutes away by boat from the Galera tourist hubs.

This was a surprisingly long trip for me. Being side by side on the map was deceiving. There were a lot of transfers. Nasugbu bus – Wawa tricycle – Tilik, Lubang boat from Wawa Pier – back – tricycle again – van for Batangas port – boat to Sabang and back – bus to Manila… kapuy!

But it was worth it. 🙂

Occidental Paradise

Lubang Island, Occidental Mindoro kept its promise. My days there were filled with beautiful beaches, mountain treks to historic caves and cool waterfalls, and Tiya Amen’s amazing cooking. The Onoda Trail, Hulagaan Falls and Kibrada Turtle Sanctuary were notable destinations.

Onoda Trail

Lubang was best known for being the home of the last Japanese straggler, Hiro Onoda. Onoda was an intelligence officer of the Imperial Japanese Army who went into hiding after World War II. He stayed in a series of caves along the hillsides of Lubang and Looc, and survived on wild chickens and fruits.

The trail to these caves had been cleaned up and installed with natural footpaths and handrails made out of tree branches. Three of the first four caves were open for half-day trips. It took two hours to reach these caves, at an average climbing pace. Highlights for me were the musical wall of Cave 4, and the impressively pristine condition of the caves.

I’d visited popular caves in the past, notably Sumaging in Sagada and Callao Cave in Cagayan Province. These natural wonders, while still majestic, had obvious traces of human traffic, such as erosion and vandalism.

The Onoda Trail caves, despite the marked path that led to them, remained rough and natural. At some point, I was actually scared of going further inside these caves, afraid I’d encounter snakes. (There were none; although, I did duck when a couple of frightened bats flew out.)

Hulagaan Falls and Kibrada Turtle Sanctuary

Hulagaan Falls via Hulagaan Beach, and Kibrada Beach were located relatively close to each other. However, Kibrada faced the open sea and access depended on the waves. Too strong and it would be dangerous for our small boat to make the crossing. Lucky, the ocean was calm that day.

Including a stopover at the RSM Coral Farm in barangay Tumito Sawang, this trip took a whole day. We headed to the turtle sanctuary first to make the most of the sea’s calmness.

Rock formations in the middle of the sea

From our jump-off point at Binakas Beach, Kibrada Turtle Sanctuary was 40 minutes away by boat through some of the most spectacular seaside formations I’d seen so far. Limestone cliffs, volcanic rocks jutting out from the sea, and strips of empty white sand beaches – I could’ve just stayed on the boat and I’d be happy.

Kibrada was home to nesting turtles. During season, as many as 20 turtles a night would come up to lay their eggs. There were a few cases of poaching, mostly by outsiders according to my guide. The municipality assigned guards when they expected a lot of turtles.

Yes, Kibrada belonged to the pawikan – I was the guest. As we walked the empty stretch of beach, my guide would point out turtle tracks, some of which were a couple of months old. Overnight campers were allowed on the beach in limited numbers, and only when accompanied by a municipal office-assigned guide.

Close to lunch time, we made our way to Hulagaan Beach. This was a small cove that had a few amenities for – well – us humans 🙂 There was running water, a roofed structure for meals and naps, and his/hers bathrooms. Overnight campers were also welcome, again as long as they got permission and guide services from the municipality.

I wasn’t hungry yet so I suggested that we go to the falls first. This was a 15- to 30-minute trek, mostly through boulders and streams. You got wet along the way so wet-clothes, no-slip sandals and waterproofed gadgets were requisite. Like at the Onoda Trail, there was a cleared path to the falls. Ropes and handrails fashioned from tree branches were installed where necessary.

Hulagaan Falls was a small crevice etched in the middle of an arena of volcanic boulders and trees. Cool water gushed from it, down into a small pool where freshwater fish played. You knew that humans frequented this place. The fish weren’t afraid of me. Some of them even took nips. I stayed there for a bit, thankful for the break from the heat.

Our last stop was at the RVS 4 Star Coral Farm. A collaboration between private individuals and the Lubang municipal government, the farm cultivated maricultured corals for replanting in Lubang waters and elsewhere if necessary. The beach of Tumito Sawang was not as pretty as the rest; and snorklers who wanted to see the underwater installations had to go through colonies of sea urchins. There was also a bit of current at around 2PM. But it was an interesting visit – a first for me, actually – my first time to see an operational coral farm.

Tiya Amen’s Homestay and Catering
There was a range of accommodations to choose from when visiting Lubang. From beach-side resorts to homestay houses, you had options that fit your budget.

Beach facing Cabra Island in Lubang — Cabra Hotel’s beachfront

Cabra Hotel, facing Cabra Island, was something to watch out for. They planned on catering to the diving community but was fairly new in the business. They still had to hire qualified dive center staff.

Tiya Amen's home-cooking — Tiya Amen’s home-cooking

Homestays were popular, and Tiya Amen’s place was on most everyone’s wish list. Heck, when I was there, I would meet residents of nearby homestays almost daily. The food at Tiya Amen’s was the best!

Tiya Amen was just a year shy of becoming an octogenarian. But, don’t let the number fool you. She’s as strong as an ox. She woke up at 3AM every day, even after nights when she slept later than I did; jogged at least 3 laps around the block every day; and ran her catering and homestay businesses.

For one daily fee, I got my own room, and access to wi-fi, television and the lounge area, as well as distilled water and three meals a day. She also prepared merienda but I usually hid at this time. (Busog na busog kasi!) There was always a lot food. I feasted on crabs, shrimps and lobsters – all fresh daily catches bought from her early morning trip to the wet market.

Lubang Impressions

Mangrove reforestation project at Lubang Island

Lubang Island became one of my target destinations because I was impressed by their tourism officer when I met her at an ecotourism seminar. Her municipality had adopted the Tourism Master Plan put together by Blue Water Consultancy, which had sustainability, conservation and people-centric development at its core.

They began to implement the plan around the start of the decade; and had since been the recipient of praise, awards and such. 2016 was all about an election that may change the direction of their tourism initiatives. It was also about the culmination of their Master Plan. With only a few roads and an airport to complete, by the end of the year, they expected to finally be ready for “tourism” – the best and worst that this term had come to mean.

So far, “un-ready” Lubang was the island of my dreams. It was peaceful and virtually crime-free. I woke up to pots and pans, and titas’ and lolas’ kitchen chatter in the morning. Road trips – not just boat trips and hikes – offered skies where egrets, crows, yellow-chested birds (Yellow breasted bunting? I really don’t know.) and owls flew freely. I trekked up mountains that were clean and felt safe. I swam in clear freshwater lakes and seas. I had white-sand beaches to myself.

This quality was, to an extent, shared by other Occidental Mindoro locations I’d visited. San Jose, Calintaan, Sablayan, and Sablayan’s Apo Reef retained their seeming isolation. Homey and peaceful. Untouched, save for illegal fishing and mining activities that compromised their beauty.

Oriental Tourist Hub

Puerto Galera, Oriental Mindoro was the opposite. This was one of my earlier destinations, when I first dipped my toe into solo travel. Even then, the beaches within the areas of White Beach and Sabang already felt overdeveloped – it’s even worse now.

I actually had a measure for this “development.” Each visit to Sabang, I made it a point to snorkel in the waters of Small La Laguna, which was a 5 minute walk from Sabang town proper. The area offered impressive snorkeling back in the early 1990s. I would visit and be satisfied with just this activity; island hopping was only an option should I get tired of looking at the same fish.

Each time I came back however, I was less and less impressed. The last time I snorkeled was 4 years ago, and I saw a dying reef. Now, I didn’t even bother.

Each time I came back, there was also a swell in population and structural developments. The shorelines were still recognizable, yes. But my Sabang and White Beach then had become tourism behemoths today, housing countless resorts, tourism workers and tourists.

If you’re looking for muni-muni time alone on a beautiful beach, this would be the wrong place for it. But if you were looking to party in between dives and island hopping, Galera was perfect.

Verde Island Diving
Of course, there was Verde Island, which was just 40 minutes away from the Galera hubs. This trip required a bigger boat and a minimum number of divers so it was offered only by the bigger dive centers during dive season.

As in previous dives in the area, Verde Island wowed me. No, there were none of the big guys – sharks, mantas, whales and such. (I wish!) But what had always impressed me about dives here was the sheer abundance. If ever there was a miting de abanze for fish, this would be the place!

The Tourism Master Plan Difference

I had written about Puerto Galera before. It was one of my first trips for Travel Dive Connect. And, the problems I’d seen and discussed then were the same problems today. In conversations with my European dive guide for Verde, who had been on the island for more than 24 years, we discussed how the conditions grew worse each year.

Proper sanitation and sewage systems were virtually non-existent. Because of clashes amongst barangay and municipality officers, there was now a water problem. Most hillside homes were on sale because water pressure was too weak to reach the area. And, while all this happened, structural work for new resorts seemed to continue, non-stop.

Clearly, Puerto Galera is an uncontrollable tourism giant. And while there is economic gain from all this, there are also costs. Environmental and cultural decline will continue to plague the area as long as stakeholders and government officials pursue unrestrained tourism development.

Compare this to Lubang Island, which took its time even with incentives from the Department of Tourism. They didn’t want the tourism spotlight – not yet – until they were ready.

When they become ready at the end of the year, controls and tourism facilities are in place. There is also a strictly implemented code of conduct for both locals and visitors. Resorts and other tourism businesses operate within guidelines. Travelers, their guides and other service providers follow rules.

So far, the Lubang municipality has proven their resolve to enforce these controls. A dive center had been shut down because their dive staff was caught spear-fishing. A few pasaway mountaineers were caught trekking the Onoda Trail during rainy season, when visitors were forbidden. They were promptly sent back to the municipal office and slapped with fines. Campers are only permitted at specific areas, and only if they get a local guide. Lubang has continually invested in infrastructure, designed to facilitate more comfortable and safe exploration while doing minimal damage/changes to the natural environment.

Driving these is the Tourism Master Plan. And, maybe, here lies the main difference between Oriental and Occidental Mindoro.

It is worth to visit both Oriental and Occidental Mindoro. I have fond memories of these provinces and I know I will come back, time and again. But the differences are stark and hard to ignore.

For now, I trust that what I saw and experienced in Lubang Island and the rest of Occidental Mindoro will be there for me when I long to go back next year, or in five years. With Puerto Galera however, I don’t really know.

I’d like to believe that it’s possible to go back and reverse the effects of an unplanned tourism boom. Perhaps. If not, then I’d like to encourage you to go visit. See both sides and then maybe together we can demand for stakeholders to see tourism not just for the price tag attached to it.

Posted on April 6, 2016November 15, 2016 by Roda Novenario

Coral Cay Conservation: Volunteer Tourism That Works

Coral Cay's Base Camp — Coral Cay’s Base Camp

For my Southern Leyte trip, the first stop was Coral Cay Conservation‘s base camp. This was right next to Napantao, the province’s oldest MPA (marine protected area). It was an opportunity to check out the MPA and see volunteer tourism in action.

Volunteer tourism refers to individuals who visit other countries as volunteers for international organizations that have local programs, usually in disaster-assistance, health, education and the environment. It has been criticized for its supposed short-term results, and the inexperience of its volunteers.

Coral Cay presents the positive side of volunteer tourism. It counts almost two decades of local presence, more than 8 years of which have been spent in the province, at the camp I was to visit. With reef assessment, education and conservation as its focus, the organization has helped several municipalities of Southern Leyte place expanses of water under protection. It trains not just volunteers, but also Filipino scholars who are interested in scuba diving, reef assessment and marine conservation. It reaches out to its neighboring barangays through programs that encourage ocean appreciation and conservation.

The Life of A Volunteer

I came at the right time. A new volunteer was to be inducted, and I joined the proceedings. It was like a tour of their local operation, from lofty mission-visions to details of their day-to-days. Listening and looking around, it didn’t feel like it was set up as a vacation for volunteers and scholars.

The camp was located at an old run-down resort; with a main structure that hardly looked anywhere close to a resort. There was a gaping hole at the center of its roof. “Is that from Yolanda (Typhoon Haiyan)?” I asked. No, it wasn’t. They just hadn’t prioritized roof renovations, and it worked to shave a few pesos off their electricity bill.

Volunteers and scholars shared rooms with bunk beds and bathrooms. They experienced a persistent water supply problem so the bathrooms’ floor area was covered with tabos and timbas (dippers and pails), one for each volunteer.

Central to the operation was the office where the induction was conducted. It housed files and reports, whiteboards with plans, and in-house laptops. Unlike a typical office, they all worked in a long table with wooden benches. I sat in a rickety old bench, shifting my weight constantly for fear of the bench collapsing underneath me.

The office during a meeting with barangay reps. Photo by Mark Hall

If activity wasn’t in the office, volunteers, scholars and Coral Cay project managers were outside – in the water or lounging around the camp’s front steps. There were a couple of tables and benches at the camp’s entrance, which were used for dive briefings, surface intervals (rest periods between dives), and post-dinner chitchat and beers.

This was the world of a Coral Cay volunteer and scholar. A Filipino scholar spent about a month in the camp. He or she underwent dive training and certification for two to three weeks, and reef check and conservation training for another week. This was at zero cost to them. They just had to get to the camp and pay for insurance coverage.

A volunteer spent a longer time in Southern Leyte. They got the same training and certification but they could stay for up to half a year if they wanted to contribute further to the cause. Their output made up the bulk of the NGO’s data, which was then assessed according to the requirements of their Philippine government counterparts.

And a volunteer paid for their training and accommodations – this was the NGO’s main source of funding. There were other out-of-pocket expenses too, such as laundry service fees, transportation costs within the communities, and the like.

Many of the volunteers I met during my visit were interested in marine conservation. They were either starting out in the field or wanted to pursue ecotourism projects of their own.

Making an Impact
Coral Cay’s connections ran from the provincial government down to the barangays that host them. In fact, the NGO’s location was dependent on their government counterparts. They stayed where their help was wanted. The team was constantly in touch with partners in the municipal and regional government offices for meeting, consultations and reports.

The training and reef assessment work done by volunteers and scholars went towards these liaisons with the government. Their data and assessments were used to support legislative action that selected areas for protection. Coral Cay also provided action plans for marine rehabilitation.

At the municipal and barangay levels, the team reached out through exposure and education programs. They took representatives to their camp for snorkeling trips and training. They visited schools and taught children about sea creatures and their importance to the ecosystem. Some of the artwork of these kids now graced a wall of the camp.

Locals snorkeling at Napantao, some for the first time. Photo by Mark Hall.

It didn’t stop there. Their years in the municipality of San Francisco, Southern Leyte had created a backyard economy dependent on their presence. Camp residents and visitors used motorcycle services that costed 50 pesos, one way. My inn’s landlady frowned upon this rate, commenting that the cost between towns – a longer route – was only 20 pesos. But then again, she benefited from Coral Cay too as her place was the preferred inn for the NGO’s guests. I also noted how laundry rates were close to or slightly higher than Manila rates.

Olly, the team’s project lead, was aware of this and viewed it positively. He did the math and he was right. The people who provided service earned just enough. It felt good to hear this from him. It was an attitude that encouraged truly giving back to the community.

Volunteer Tourism That Works
Coral Cay makes volunteer tourism work. Volunteers get the training and experience they need to move forward in their chosen fields. They are able to give back through data gathering and community work. Scholars get diving certifications and reef conservation training for free, with no strings attached. The barangays benefit from the NGO’s presence through service provision and educational engagements.

The disconnect happens at the higher level, where reports, assessments and protection (on paper) need to also come with action. From experience, the NGO still observes the occasional illegal fisherman within Napantao, which has been under protection for more than 15 years. Coral Cay’s work has helped convert several of Southern Leyte’s waters into MPAs. But they have limited access to these sections and can’t know how the protected area guidelines are being followed.

Then again, implementation is really outside the jurisdiction of an international organization. This work has to be done by the barangays, and the municipal and regional governments.

Since 2013, the Philippines is the number one searched-for country when it comes to volunteer tourism. This should be seen as an opportunity to get help where there is a lack of government and private support. As in the case of Coral Cay, marine assessment and research is one of these areas. And, we’re lucky to benefit from the NGO’s presence. We just have to follow it up with action.

http://www.psmag.com/business-economics/the-problem-with-volunteer-tourism-64838
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/International_volunteering

Posted on February 22, 2016September 24, 2016 by Roda Novenario

On Meeting Reynan and His Tacloban

Tacloban was not the destination during my last trip but I needed to pass through the city. I dreaded to pass through it. It was my first time but it felt otherwise. Popular media had already mapped a Tacloban that suffered tragedies both natural and unnatural. The city, post Haiyan / Yolanda, was a picture of death, neglect, corruption and the best and worst in man.

As a travel writer, I didn’t know how to approach. I didn’t want to spotlight the suffering, once again. I felt that doing so wouldn’t do justice to the people I’d met during my two days there. They were generally friendly and welcoming. They grinned at my stinginess, and helped me figure out budget-friendly options.

Sign Reads: USAID Help From the American People

I also didn’t want to forget. Even for a first-timer, there were obvious scars. I saw a couple of abandoned weathered-down homes with family cars that had crashed into living rooms and porches. A school on the way to the airport had one of its block-long walls still in shambles, unfixed even after two years. In and outside the city, I observed structures with collapsed roofs. Signs that said “USAID Help from the American People” were on the walls of some homes and sari-sari stores.

So, on the way back from Padre Burgos, I decided to spend the time before my flight exploring Tacloban. I thought to start small, a meal at one of its top-rated cafes and maybe a walk through the streets close to it. I chose Giuseppe’s because it was supposedly the favorite of social/aid workers who came to the city after the super typhoon.

(The place certainly felt Western, offering a mix of American and Italian dishes. The prices were Manila-rate. Its guests seemed well-off.)

This was how I met Reynan. I was advised that it would be easier to hire a tricycle to the cafe, and from downtown to the airport. He offered to do both routes.

Reynan and His Tricycle Service

Reynan was born and raised in Tacloban. He had never left the city, even after Haiyan. He was of average build, and wore a blue thinning shirt. Nothing else struck me except for his eyes. They were dark brown and faded like a dull piece of glass.

His tricycle was one of only four that were running in the aftermath of the super typhoon. He serviced the desperate, with fees that reached Php 2,000 one-way. Those were dangerous times, he said. There were real risks in being out at night. You could get killed.

He described an apocalyptic scene. People were hopeless; they were on their own. They had no food and water for at least two weeks. To get by, people raided warehouses and stores. There were no policemen among them; no criminals. They were equals in their desperation. You stayed alert during nighttime. You always heard cries – of rape and abuse, of murder being committed, of men and women who had let grief take over.

That day, in between the cafe and the airport, he took me to an impromptu city tour. He wanted to show me the remains of what he had experienced.

His Second Life
For Reynan, he was one of the lucky ones. He pointed uphill, to where he and his three children ran. They awoke a few hours after midnight to a lashing storm. People were in a state of panic and were heading to higher ground.

Former location of his cousin's home near the port of Tacloban — Former location of his cousin’s home near the port of Tacloban

The shanty community near the port was one of the severely affected areas during Haiyan. The storm surge had unmoored ships, whipping them toward people’s homes. Reynan’s relatives were some of the casualties. A memorial now stood where a cousin’s house used to be.

Another cousin survived. Her family, as well as others, was back living near the port. It was a picturesque scene on that clear day. But then again, her living situation was not because of the seeming calm of the seascape. She had no choice. Homes for their relocation were still unlivable. (I passed the site on the way to the city, and it seemed too far. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were those who would risk lives to be near livelihoods.)

They shared their disappointment. They believed that the central government did not care for them. To this day, there was inaction and the lack of help. “Mas mabuti ba yung ibang bansa,” Reynan said. “Yung gobyerno natin kinurakot lang yung tulong na dapat napunta sa amin.”*

The Long Route to the Airport
We hopped into the tricycle and drove on. We passed the stadium that figured in several post-tragedy photos, the school with the collapsed wall, and the low-rise building that “saved” Ted Failon‘s life. Near the airport, Reynan turned left into another community that sprung up after Haiyan.

Another detour into a community near the airport

Again, he decried an absentee government that let people back into a danger area. The community, he said, was completely destroyed by the super typhoon. Reynan worried that the place was now overrun by drug pushers and addicts. (This concern did not stop him from taking me there.)

We made it to the airport after several detours. I asked my final question: OK na po ba kayo? (Are you now OK?)

Reynan said that he won’t ever be OK. He won’t forget what he had gone through. A little rain triggered fear in him. His wife, who lived in Batangas then, thought he and their children were dead. How can you recover from something like that, he asked.

I had no answer, of course. I was just thankful that he trusted me with his story, his Tacloban.

*”The other countries did better,” Reynan said. “Corruption in our government took away help that was supposed to go to us.”

Posted on October 5, 2015September 24, 2016 by Roda Novenario

Dahican Beach, Mati City: Paradise on the Brink

I know of places like Boracay and Puerto Galera before their massive commercialization through older friends. They talked about doing road trips in pick-up trucks filled with tanks, dive gear, and eager diving friends to get to a mostly empty Sabang, Puerto Galera. Dives were exploratory. Food and accommodations were simple and cheap. Life was good and nature was at its best.

Of Boracay, I remember a story by an American veteran who settled on the island. He told us how it was truly a paradisial gem, sparkling turquoise. There was hardly anything on the beach. Their mark of progress was broadcasting Voice of America from one of the island’s peaks.

Got online and finished work from one of the carinderias, selling coffee and instant noodles, before I got on a bus bound for Mati City. It's a 4-hour picturesque ride. — Went online and finished work from one of the carinderias, selling coffee and instant noodles, before I got on a bus bound for Mati City. It’s a 4-hour picturesque ride.

I recall these stories on my first day at Dahican, Mati City. I got there at around 7 in the morning, after an all-nighter on the road. Davao City had 24/7 trips to Mati City. I thought that this was a sign of beach traffic, and ample food and accommodations options.

Instead, I find a Dahican beach that is sparse and simple. Except for the huge I Love Mati eyesore – errrr, sign – which I intentionally left out of all beach pictures, it is exactly how I envisioned Boracay and Puerto Galera before their boom. And I am filled with dread. I can’t get that eyesore out of my head.

Marine Sanctuary

Dahican turtle encounter while snorkeling.

Dahican Beach is a sanctuary for turtles and dugongs. It is also a part of the migration routes of whales, whale sharks and dolphins.

The day I arrived, Winston Plaza of Amihan sa Dahican had just secured more than a hundred eggs, left by a nesting turtle the night before. He expected these to hatch in the next few days. Turtles regularly visited the beach to lay their eggs. Winston went on daily patrol, seeking out turtle tracks before foot traffic and waves erased them.

Baby turtles, newly hatched, still summoning the energy to get out into the sea.

My first two days were spent trying to take videos of a dugong family, a female dugong that swam with its pup and a huge male dugong. From the surface, we’d see them come up for air every five minutes. I got lucky on the morning of my second day, when Winston volunteered to work as a spotter from his paddle board.

The dugongs frequented an area at the west side of the beach, around 30 to 40 feet from the shore. Depth during high tide was around 30 feet. The bottom was sandy, with a few sprouts of sea grass. To reach the area from the beach, you needed to break through 10 to 15 feet of strong waves and murky water. The sea grew calmer after you’ve broken through these waves.

When the habagat came in, the dugongs moved closer to the beach. The day I left, the huge male dugong was seen scouting the area just 20 feet from Amihan sa Dahican’s camp. From June to August, whale sharks also came close to shore. Dahican beach offered food to these marine giants.

Children’s Paradise
Once I’d gotten my dugong video, I settled on the beach. I worked on my tan, “body-surfed,” and whiled away time watching the kids of Amihan sa Dahican show off their skimboarding and surfing skills.

Galunggong boodle fight! Best meal ever!

Amihan housed more than 20 scholars, children of varying school levels. These kids were sent to school, and given food and shelter. They also learned the ways of the waves, perfecting their moves every moment they can. They’d competed and won in several local and Asian surfing, skimboarding and canoeing competitions.

They call him Piolo (seriously :)), a scholar and champion skimboarder. — They call him Piolo (seriously 🙂 ), a scholar and champion skimboarder.

Whenever a turtle laid her eggs on the beach, they helped secure the eggs. When I was there, they surrounded the enclosure that sheltered the eggs several times in a day, and watched, fascinated as hatchlings began to make their way out of the sand.

We were both waiting for the turtles to dig themselves out of the sand.

I joined them sometimes, waiting to get handed one or two hatchlings. My hands needed to be covered in sand for the turtles to imprint Dahican (and not ‘D Roda) in their systems.

It was a joy for me, no matter how simple. To handle one of my favorite marine creatures. To watch kids enjoy themselves and appreciate nature. To just lay on the beach, imprinting Dahican into my system.

Amihan Sa Dahican

Much of what Dahican is now owes to the efforts of Jun and Winston Plaza, brothers and founders of Amihan sa Dahican, and their friends, supporters and partners.

Amihan sa Dahican is their advocacy. They want a better life for the residents of Dahican while keeping with sustainable practices, where work, play and home life takes nature into consideration.

It’s been 15 years since they took in their first scholars, giving them education and livelihood opportunities. Some have graduated from college through scholarships at public universities in Mindanao. Jun has worked out agreements with these universities that allot slots for qualified Amihan kids. Some now work as surfing instructors and nature guides, in and out of the country.

Jun explains his strategies in safekeeping the eggs and eventually releasing the hatchlings.

Jun has also been successful in affecting change when it comes to business and fishing practices in the area. Through his and the rest of Amihan’s vigilance, local fishermen have adapted sustainable fishing practices. They use smaller nets to save bigger marine creatures from getting trapped. Should they catch an endangered species, such as turtles and rays, most of them opt to release the creatures or turn them over to Amihan.

This change was slow and deliberate. For years, Jun, Winston and friends monitored fishing activities. Whenever there was an illegal catch, they offered rice and food money in exchange for their freedom.

Winston, right after our dugong sighting, explains why they are having a hard time getting Dahican approved as an MPA (marine protected area).

The Amihan team also keeps the beach and its waters clean, doing coastal clean-ups at least once a week. During peak tourist season, Jun and his team would patrol the beach and discourage visitors from bringing food close to the water.

Amihan sa Dahican does all this with minimal support from the local government. They rely mostly on travelers, who rent tents and boards, get surfing lessons and buy from their sari-sari store, for funds to support everything that they’ve set out to do.

The Sign of Impending Boom
Dahican has come a long way. It has been featured in several travel shows as a top skimboarding and surfing destination. Enthusiasts, like myself, have visited for close encounters with dugongs, whale sharks and dolphins. It now has that “I Love Mati” sign, which to me is a misguided attempt at improving the beachscape.

Across I Love Mati is a Department of Tourism (DOT)-supported commercial center that was supposed to launch a week after my stay in Dahican. According to a source, it would house a massage parlor, a few eating and shopping establishments, and an accommodations alternative. (Most places along the beach only offered camping space.)

And while there really is nothing wrong with having options, I dread what might come after.

Amihan sa Dahican only leases its current place on the beach. They need to renew every 2 years. They’ve been threatened with eviction in the past. There have been times when turtles swam back, unable to nest, because of excessive light and noise from partying and karaoke-drunk visitors. Massive tourist traffic during peak season has consistently left massive amounts of trash.

A boom can aggravate problems that Amihan sa Dahican already deals with. Trash, disturbed nesting turtles, lease issues – Amihan is a small team facing what could be a gigantic wave of commercialization.

I hope that in 5 years, I will find a Dahican that’s close to how I found it weeks ago. Simple and fun. Thriving and sustainable. Amihan sa Dahican is my base/camp. I could swim with dugongs and turtles when I want to. I could lay peacefully on the beach during lazy days. I could watch baby turtles take their first steps. Children of all ages play and learn in a sanctuary they share with the rest of God’s creatures.

Posted on September 8, 2015September 24, 2016 by Roda Novenario

Roots, Traditions and Remembering: On Meeting Apo Whang Od and Experiencing Buscalan

Whang Od Buscalan — Whang Od smiles as she works on my tattoo.

The trip to Buscalan, Kalinga Apayao meant two things for me. It was a return to the mountains – my rambling roots, having started out as a mountaineer before I took to the ocean. It was also my chance to get tattooed by Apo Whang Od, the last mambabatok (traditional tattoo artist).

And while the rest of my tattoos marked personal milestones, this one was going to be a highlight as it was. A tattoo by Whang Od, the 95 year-old Kalinga woman who shot to fame less than a decade ago when her artistry was featured in Lars Krutak’s Discovery Channel show, Tattoo Hunter.

Buscalan and the Whang Od Phenomenon

Whang Od's home in Buscalan — Whang Od’s home in Buscalan.

The trip was ill-timed. It fell on days when Typhoon Goni / Ineng battered northern Philippines. We had gone ahead, following forecasts that predicted rainfall only in the extreme north areas of Batanes. The predictions were wrong, and we ended up spending four days in rain-soaked Buscalan. We arrived a day ahead of the storm, and left as it winded down.

Surprisingly, travelers arrived every day, even during the brunt of the storm. I asked a few locals about this – over beer tagays, of course – and they said that days without visitors were rare. If it weren’t foreign tourists, Filipinos came. They remembered guests who made their way up from faraway Visayas and Mindanao. They recalled a weekend when there were 100 visitors. Each household had homestay guests.

Most made the trip to get tattooed by Apo Whang Od. The 2009 Lars Krutak feature and its subsequent book, Kalinga Tattoo: Ancient and Modern Expressions of the Tribal, shoved the gentle Whang Od and the tranquil Buscalan into the limelight. Follow-ups from local and foreign media came, one after another – and with these were throngs of tattooed travelers who now wanted “the real deal.”

I saw this for myself when it was our turn to get tattoos. Apo Whang Od and her granddaughter, Grace, had a full day that started at 7AM. Sessions were held at a makeshift tattoo nook that was tucked away from the wind and the rain. We got there at 10:30AM and there was a queue of about 7 people.

It was a cold and stormy morning and our guide, Gilbert, was unsure if Whang Od would want to attend to the guests. But she was there, jacket on and silently focused on work. She took a short break before our turn. Because she didn’t speak Tagalog, she gestured shyly to the crowd, moving her hand to her mouth. She was ready for her first meal. They ended sessions at 4PM to give Whang Od time to tend to her home and her rice field.

This was a typical day for the old woman for about 8 years now. Apo Whang Od: cultural icon and the last mambabatok. She put Buscalan on the traveler’s map. Tourism was now a major income generator for the community and Tinglayan, the municipality it belonged to.

Batok and the Kalinga Culture
Tattooing was a natural language of the skin that gave voice to the ancestors and their descendants who attempted to emulate them by sacrificing their own bodies to make them more lasting and sacred. – Lars Krutak, The Last Kalinga Tattoo Artist of the Philippines (2009).

Beer tagays with Grace, Gilbert and new friends. — Beer *tagays* and chichiriya with Grace, Gilbert and new friends.

The night before the tattoo session, Grace warned me that Apo Whang Od’s taps were lethal. The old woman hit harder – you bled more. So, we agreed that I’d get a “mix” tattoo, one started by Grace and finished by Whang Od.

This was a good idea. Grace sat me down and traced my selected design. I chose the Hinuliab, which, according to the Kalinga Tattoo book, meant either “to release the fire from within” or “to ask for blessing.” She then began to tap. Soft taps to ease me into the traditional Kalinga way of tattooing.

When she was done, I moved over to Apo Whang Od’s side. I’d been waiting for this, an audience with the old woman. Of course, with the people around me, my swelling arm and the mythical aura she exuded, I just gushed. Gilbert translated my question: what do you think about being so popular in Manila? And, I blabbed about bringing her her favorite Cloud 9 chocolates.

I stopped there. She did hit harder. Each tap buried the thorn deeper into my skin. I hoped being quiet would appease her a bit. Stop being makulit, Roda!

The men and women before me had to be of Kalinga blood to even qualify for a tattoo. Females declared their womanhood and hoped for fertility through their tattoos. Men had to fight and kill to deserve theirs. There were very few left of these warrior-men, many of whom received their tattooed privilege by fighting the Japanese during World War II.

About the warrior-men, Krutak wrote: “But soon enough he would walk among the countless generations of tattooed Kalinga warriors that came before him. He would bear visual proof of his martial exploits in the form of an indelible tattoo that would confer to him special privileges and lifelong respect from other members living in his community.”

Whang Od once said: “Tattooing is a ritual and serious religious experience. The spirits expect Fanah to act bravely. If he doesn’t, they’ll inflict death and destruction on the community.” *

Krutak himself underwent so much more than I did during my 4 days in Buscalan. He lived and immersed himself in community life for almost a month. He worked in the rice fields, pounded rice, bonded and hunted with the men, and learned about the batok art from the tattoo master. He joined festivals and rituals; and worked to deserve a tattoo from Whang Od.

Mass Tourism’s Indelible Mark and Buscalan’s Future
One could only imagine the time when the Kalinga tattooing tradition shifted as people began to follow the Tattoo Hunter’s ink trails.

None of the locals that I talked to could recall Apo Whang Od’s dilemma as one tattooing request came after another. The Discovery Channel episode’s reach was massive and global. Alongside modern tourism’s preference for access and affordability, Buscalan became a destination, and Whang Od suddenly had an audience to please.

Children line up for sweet treats as our guide looks on.

The people of Buscalan were aware of how much had changed. A few cement homes had been built next to native ones, mainly to accommodate travelers. Children asked for candies from visitors, for which their caretakers apologized, in case we felt pestered. Many Buscalan and Tinglayan locals joined the tourism workforce, and earned their keep as guides, motorcycle drivers, and canteen, inn and homestay operators, among others.

Buscalan and Tinglayan are now official eco-cultural destinations.

A viable local economy had risen up, with an old woman at the center. And sustaining this was now an issue.

What would happen once Whang Od felt she wanted to rest from working? Would Grace – an impressive young woman with a genuine love for the batok art and an acumen for business – be able to take over? Would people still come to get their traditional tattoos?

Remember Her Legacy

I chose a visible portion of my arm for my tattoo precisely because this tattoo was my most painful one. It was co-created by a cultural icon. It was something I’d be proud of. Others before me had had the same sentiment – I’m sure.

But what did I really have on my skin? What cultural tradition had I appropriated out of vanity? Out of the need to showcase my Filipino-ness even with a tradition that was never truly mine.

My tattoo has healed, and I am just waiting for the charcoal to seep out and for the outer skin to peel. But Apo Whang Od’s mark remains raw. My ego has been subdued; and I’ve become aware of the legacy I was allowed to partake of. My skin bears her artistry and generosity. It bears the sacred traditions of the Kalinga tribe and Buscalan’s roots. And just as the tap tap tap of her bamboo stick remains fresh in my head, I will always remember.

*You can watch the full episode of Tattoo Hunter here:

References:
Kalinga Tattoo: Ancient and Modern Expressions of the Tribal. Munich: Edition Reuss. http://larskrutak.com/the-last-kalinga-tattoo-artist-of-the-philippines/

Cultural Appropriation. Wikipedia.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cultural_appropriation

Author: Roda Novenario

Torn Between Two Mindoros

Coral Cay Conservation: Volunteer Tourism That Works

On Meeting Reynan and His Tacloban

Dahican Beach, Mati City: Paradise on the Brink

Roots, Traditions and Remembering: On Meeting Apo Whang Od and Experiencing Buscalan

SHOP OUR TEES