This was a very different vacation from our El Nido trip in a sense that this was sooo much more laidback. Basically it involved a lot of lounging around, quite a bit of snorkling, tons of eating, no, gorging on food and sweets, then some more lounging.
Like I said in the previous post, we hardly ate at the resort we were in, we only ate breakfast there, because for our meals, we would troop to the next nearest resort, Serena:
Serena has a more resort-ey feel, since it has a pool, a restaurant and bar, and generally a newer, more modern ambience. Ravenala has a more rustic, more nature-y, Crusoe-ish appeal. So I guess it’s up to the individual tastes as to which resort you’d fancy more.
Aside from the lounging around, there was not much for me to take pictures of, so I stumbled on an unexpected experiment, which is just sitting in one spot on the beach, and taking pictures of people as they frolicked or went about their business along the shore. It was a slice of life kind of shoot.
The beach we were on is called White Beach. The more popular and populous beach was about 30 minutes away, Panagsama Beach. On our first day, we decided to have dinner there since it was known for its restaurants and bars. When we got there, we saw that there were hardly any beaches, just patches of shore, owned by the different establishments.
Moalboal reminded me a lot of Puerto Galera. White Beach of Moalboal is like White Beach of Galera, where people swam, while Panagsama is like Sabang of Galera, where all the dive resorts are. We didn’t find Panagsama much to our liking. It was a bit too seedy for our taste. But if “action” is what you like, it’s supposedly plentiful there. We didn’t stick around long enough to find out. After an hour, we were ready to go back to the quiet of White Beach’s womb.
But the standout story of Panagsama was this young boy we met. We never found out his name, but he was quite a memorabe character.
A kid on his bike suddenly joined in when 2 young girls were peddling their trinkets to us. At first he was a bit too in-your-face and a pushy to boot. He was like the pesky younger brother who would butt in whenever you’re talking to someone else. He was curious, he was talky, he wanted to see the pictures I was taking…he was a bit annoying, actually. But long after the little girls left, he lingered. Later we learned that his late father was an Australian, and his mom, a sickly Filipina. He was asking where we were going after, asked more specifically if we were having dinner, and if so, if he could join in the meal. At first it was easy to write him off as a streetwise urchin, armed with a sob story to wrench loot from unsuspecting tourists with soft hearts, matched with loads of first-world guilt for leading cushy lives. But there was something about this boy that rang true. When asked if he was hungry, he matter-of-factly declared, “kung may matirang isda, nabibigyan ako.” Of course the unspoken part was, if no fish was left over, he’d be left to fend for himself. He even wanted to bring us over to his house to meet his mother who was always sick. He had to do with some cash which he gleefully announced will be spent on barbecue. He left, with no space for sentiments, and hopped on his bike to fill his belly with grilled goodies.
It was quite a reality check to have met this kid. In the middle of a carefree holiday replete with sloth and gluttony, you get a splash of cold water in the form of a reminder of how far we are from being in paradise. It may play the part at times, but it’s a prison for many who live there. It’s the same gnawing feeling I get whenever I see stray kittens on the streets abandoned by their mothers. I know the ending of the story most likely won’t be a happy one, but I can only take in so many strays.
It was a sober dinner afterward, as our minds wandered as to how his story will play out. We fear for him, especially in this world filled with predators, we hope he finds refuge somewhere. It’s an emotional soup of pity, remorse, guilt, and what-ifs that’s pretty hard to swallow.
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