Desperate Measures

Camino Royale: The Top Ten Lessons We Learned Along The Way (Plus My Packing Recommendations!)

10.  The road is long, and is difficult as hell.

I don't know what I was thinking, but I didn't think it would be that hard.  Everyday, as I would limp to the showers on my broken feet, I'd ask myself, "Why am I doing this again???"  There was one drunken night when we questioned what it was all for, a night we fondly refer to as "The Night of the Para Ques".

Sometimes, when there was no one else around - and there were times when you could walk for hours and not see a single soul or any sign of civilization - I'd be filled with self-doubt.  I would either question my capacity to finish or convince myself I had gotten lost, or both.  When you don't know where you're going and how much longer it will take to get there, and you're not even sure if you're on the right path but you've walked too far to backtrack, all you can do is move forward and try not to despair.

9.  When the going gets tough, put one foot in front of the other and you'll eventually get... somewhere.

And the words of the prophets were written on the stop signs.  (My apologies to Rush.)

8.  We really don't need much to get by.

When you have to carry everything you own on your back, you quickly learn what you can and cannot live without.

When I was doing my research on what to pack for the Camino, I read posts stating that the recommended backpack for women was a 43-liter one.  Which was why I was surprised when Karen Roa, a college schoolmate who had done the Camino in the recent past, told me that her 34-liter backpack was enough.  I borrowed it from her anyway and proceeded to fill it to bursting.

The first two days that I carried it were hell, so much so that I started sending off my backpack to our next destination via courier.  It was only later, when I finally decided to walk with all my gear, that I began to discard things that I knew I didn't need and, even then, I was still carrying too much.

The 34-liter is the smallest one at the very end, and it was still too heavy.

Below is a separate section on what to pack and other recommendations.

7.  The shortest path is not necessarily easy.

In Triacastela, we were faced with two choices:  there was the regular Camino route on the right, and the road to Samos on the left, which was six kilometers longer.  

Photo c/o Rosan Cruz.

I have no idea what there is in Samos that would make anyone want to walk six kilometers more than necessary, but I was pretty sure that I didn't care too much for it.  It was only when we were trudging through steep up and downhill paths that we started to wonder if the other way might have been easier.  Of course we will never know until we take that road ourselves and yet, somehow, I'm pretty sure that, if I had to do it over again, I'd choose the shorter route each and every time, steep inclines be damned.

6.  Not all that glitters is gold.

In Santiago, Rosan, Stephen and I checked out a hotel that used to be a monastery.  It had a special pilgrim's discount on its regular room from something like €67 to €40.  The hotel looked like the parador (a luxury hotel converted from an historic building) in Leon so we were overjoyed.  Rosan checked their website, found a photo of a room and asked, "Is this what the regular room looks like?"  "Check on TripAdvisor, " was the reply.  But because the internet connection was spotty, we just trusted that we had gotten the deal of a lifetime.  The next day, we checked out of our albergue and checked in to what we hoped would be our low-budget parador.

What could go wrong, right?  (Internet file photo.)

When we were done checking in, I didn't have the patience to wait for the elevator so I took the stairs.  As I climbed higher, the floors started to resemble hospital wards.  The higher the floor, the dodgier it looked - and we were on the sixth floor, the top floor.  And then I got to our room.  It was the worst room we had on the entire Camino.  It was tiny and spartan, and I didn't even want to step foot in the bathroom at all.

Stephen tried to put a positive spin on it.  "Check out the view," he said.  "You mean out of those windows?" I asked, indicating the glass panes that were about a foot wide but ran the length of the top of the wall that faced the outside.  I tiptoed to peer out and pretended to be a prisoner.  "So that's what freedom looks like," I sighed.

Our floor had a lounge area.  Stephen joked, "This is where you get up from a chair and ask," with a concerned look on his face, '"Doc, is he going to be okay?"'  We carried on a soap opera spiel for a bit.  At least we got some good laughs out of it.

To be fair, they didn't exactly advertise themselves as a parador.  And it was a monastery after all.  (Had we checked TripAdvisor, as instructed, we would have been alerted.  "Cell room for monastics" pretty much said it all.)

Afterwards, we referred to it as our aparador, another Spanish word that we've appropriated in the Philippines and given new meaning.  In Spanish, "aparador" means "sideboard", "dresser", or "shop window".  In the Philippines, it means "clothes closet".

In the end, our aparador had an okay breakfast buffet so we didn't feel all that cheated.

The dining hall.  (Internet file photo.)

5.  The Camino will provide.

Ah, how to explain Camino magic?  It's enough to make a fatalist out of anyone.

On Stephen's first day on the Camino, in the French Pyrenees, he was so exhausted that he had to lie down in the woods.  He wished he had a walking stick and, lo and behold, he found one lying nearby almost immediately. He refused to part with it, even when offered with better ones, and he walked all the way to Santiago with it.

When Rosan and I were starving, with no bar in sight, in a town that looked like it was deserted, all of a sudden, there was a man standing outside a truck in the middle of the street.  We thought he was delivering something and was lost.  When we told him we were looking for a bar and were hungry, he opened the truck which turned out to be a food truck!  After he gave us some bananas, he drove off, so he wasn't lost after all.  I guess we'll never know what he was doing in the middle of the street that day.

Another strange thing that was constantly happening was that whenever we'd mention somebody random, later, there they'd be.

For instance, when I was walking with Loic, he was telling me about this Australian mother and daughter that he had been walking with.  He didn't think he'd see them again because they were fast walkers and he had been taking it easy because of his injuries.  Plus he had joined up with us and we were very slow walkers.

When we got to our albergue, I heard a woman shreik Loic's name.  It turned out to the mother from the Ozzie mother-daughter team.  I didn't get the story on what slowed them down that allowed us to catch up with them, but there they were just the same, staying at the same albergue as us.

On our last day in Muxia, we went out to take photos around the rocks.  It had been difficult rounding up the group to go out because it was cold and windy that day, but it was our last day and we wanted to take more photos.  There were a lot of people out by the rocks.  Alan looked around and observed, "The tour buses are here."  I then remembered that Loraine-In-Spain, Loic's first "stepmom" on the Camino, had mentioned that she was going to be on a tour bus to Muxia.  As soon as I said that, there she was, walking towards us.  She hadn't seen us and was surprised when I called out her name.

Reunited with Loraine-In-Spain, Loic's first "stepmom" on the Camino, whom Alan and I met in Hospital De Orbigo.  Left to right:  Loraine Denison, Loic Pautel, me, Alan Montelibano.  Photo c/o Loraine Denison.

Maybe these were all just lucky coincidences.  We'd like to think it was Camino magic.

(Of course this didn't happen when we'd consciously wish people to appear.  Trust me, we tried, but it didn't happen.)

4.  When the Camino gives you a gift, take it.

The Camino gives what you need, not what you want.  And it gives it to you when you need it.  You just have to recognize it and take it.

I think that the people that we ran into and eventually became friends with were gifts of the Camino.  They nourished our souls and gave us the strength and encouragement that we needed to keep going.  I'd like to think that we were the same for others.

There was an older gentleman that we would run into all the time.  He was traveling on his own and was always alone.  We would wave and say hello, make small talk, and nothing more.

Towards the end of the Camino, during our nth coffee/zumo de naranja stop, I bumped into him at the bar.  We had a nice spot out in the sun so I invited him to join us.  And he did.  He then walked with us for a bit and then stopped with us for lunch.  The lunch hour grew longer and longer and, as the conversation flowed, so did the beer.

Pulpo and beer with Rene.  We strongly recommend Pulperia A Garnacha in Melide.  Photo c/o Rosan Cruz.

He told us, "I did the Camino last year, but on a bicycle.  Now I finally understand why people get so excited when they meet other people that they've walked with."  

Days after, in Santiago, while Stephen, Rosan, and I were waiting to welcome Alan and Raffy into the city, we saw our gentleman-friend's unmistakably tall frame enter the square.  We yelled his name and waved.  He was surprised.  We went up to him and gave him a big hug.  He told us that when he entered Santiago the year before, he looked around, said, "Well, I guess that's it," packed up his bike and left.  This time, he was thrilled.

As we were exchanging stories, someone came up to him to inform him that they were going to a bar to grab a beer.  Apparently, he had been walking with others on the way to Santiago and had made more new friends!

We learned too late though that we shouldn't have taken other people's presence for granted and gotten their contact details while we had the chance.  Then again, maybe that's really where our stories ended and how it was meant to be.  (I tell you, we're all fatalists now!)

Putting out an APB on Kim, the Dane.  Photo c/o Raffy Garcia.

3.  Flow.

It is best to go into the Camino without any plan, except to get to Santiago, but even that can be changed.

Which was why we all eventually started carrying our backpacks.  The advantage of sending your backpack ahead is that you are relieved of the burden of carrying it.  The disadvantage is that you don't have the flexibility to change plans and stop whenever and wherever you fancy. If we had sent our pack 32 km. away, we had to walk those 32 km. even if our feet were threatening to sever ties with the rest of our bodies.

While, when we had our packs, we had the luxury of calling it a day after 12 km. if we felt like it.

I think it was Adolfo, the Camino Guru, who said to Raffy, "Let go of your plans.  Don't have a return ticket.  Go wherever the Camino takes you."  Of course not everyone has the luxury of unlimited time and/or money to spend on the Camino.  But don't be a prisoner of your itinerary.  Let go of where you think you have to be.  The only place that you have to be is in the moment.  

As a corollary to Flow, I say, Stop and smell the roses.  If you see a procession, stop and watch it go by.  If there's a party on the street, grab a beer and join it.  If you see a river, take a dip.  Savor the view.  Enjoy the scenery.  Take a nap under a tree.  If you like a town, explore it.  Maybe even stay a few days.  When you meet someone, have a coffee and a conversation.

It's easy to get caught up in the walking and be so focused on your destination that you fail to notice what's around you.  It's not about getting to Santiago, the Camino is everything and everyone around you.

When you let the Camino unfold, that's when the magic happens.

2.  It's YOUR Camino.  Go about it whichever way you want.

There's no right or wrong way to do the Camino.  You can do it whichever way you want, for whatever reason you may or may not have.  There are no rules.  You don't even have to have a pilgrim's passport - if you aren't staying at pilgrim hotels or dining at pilgrim restaurants or need a Compostela when you get to Santiago, that is.  You don't even have to get to Santiago at all.

If you want to follow an itinerary from a book or an app, you'll have lots of company, which could be fun if you're an extrovert - or annoying, if you're not.  If you want to crossdress, wear pink tights and carry a large stuffed animal with its own pilgrim's passport, why the hell not?  If you want to stay at luxury hotels and have a car waiting for you at every stop, there are travel agencies that can make arrangements for you.

One of the friends we made was walking the Camino for bragging rights, another was doing it as a challenge to herself in her 50s, another wanted to give thanks for losing 100 lbs. of weight that she had been carrying most of her adult life.  A lot were in between jobs and were doing it because they finally had the time for it.  Some were doing small sections on their holidays every year.

But just as you're free to walk the Camino the way you want, so are others.  The real challenge, I believe, is not to judge those who are doing it differently from you.

1.  The Camino is really just a reflection of life and a mirror of ourselves. 

The Camino, like life, is really about the journey, not the destination.  And just as life can be beautiful and ugly, wonderful and dull, so are the paths along the Camino.

We can't always go through mountains and woodlands.

Sometimes, we have to go through highways and industrial towns.

Sometimes, the walks are crowded and noisy; other times, they can be empty and lonely.  And all of these - the good and the bad, everything that we liked and disliked about it - is what makes the Camino.

How we deal with all these - the changing landscapes, the stark, unending roads, the different people and personalities that we encounter, the physical injuries, the pain, the mental challenges, the existential angst, being uncomfortable, having to compromise and share space - how we deal with all these - including our choice on how to walk the Camino - will show us who we truly are.

I was the Darth Vader of the Camino.

***

Camino Recommendations:

1.  Invest in a good backpack.  A good camping store will have weights that they can put in the backpack so that you can feel how it is on your shoulders, back, and hips when it is full.  Ideally, the weight of your backpack will be evenly distributed on your hips and won't pull on your shoulders.  I really liked Deuter's 34-liter for women.  Also get the one with the netting that keeps the pack away from your back.  The airflow will keep your back dry.  Rosan had a Deuter too, but hers had no netting so her back was constantly wet with sweat.

(Internet file photo.)

Also, have a waterproof daypack, for those days, when you absolutely must send your backpack ahead.  (For sending your backpack ahead, we recommend NCS Equipajes.  They only cost €5 per bag.)

Camino etiquette:  Be mindful of the pilgrims that are resting and be as quiet as possible when you get up in the morning.  Repack your rucksack outside the sleeping quarters.  My advice is to repack as much as you can the night before.  And ready your clothes for the next day and your toiletries - maybe put them in the daypack - so that you can easily find them in the dark and take them to the bathroom to get changed.  Keep rummaging to a minimum.  The rustling of plastic is especially annoying so, yeah, don't do that.

2.  You don't need a backpack with a bladder.  That's because you can't see when the bladder needs refilling.  You'll have to take off your backpack and remove the bladder to check on it and refill it.  Plus there's always the risk of the bladder leaking.  Too much hassle.

This was recommended on one of the forums.  I bought it on Amazon and it served me well.

US$17.99 on Amazon.

You just have to find a water bottle that will fit its attachments.

3.  I went to a grocery in Spain and found a 1.5 liter plastic bottle of water that fit the pouch of the Deuter backpack, with a mouth that fit one of the SmarTube attachments.

   

I kept the cap of the water bottle for the longest time because I knew I would need it for this blog post, but now I can't find it.  Anyway, the attachment that comes with the SmarTube will fit the thicker cap on the first bottle, rather than the skinnier one on the second bottle.  (Internet file photos.)

It was a really flimsy bottle which meant that it was very light.  It was horribly mangled at the end of the trip but it served its purpose.  But, according to Adolfo, the Camino Guru, I was carrying too much water.  He told me some fun fact that the average pilgrim only needs x amount of water for x amount of kilometers.  I obviously do not retain facts the way I do water.  Har.  Anyway, I believe him - even though I didn't chuck my water bottle out - because, at the end of every day, my bottle would still be three-quarters full.  But that may have been because I was constantly refilling it or I wasn't drinking enough because I didn't want to have to pee all the time when there weren't any toilets around.  I forget.  Anyway, Australian Ann told me that she only carried a 500-ml. bottle and that was enough for her.

To be safe, I'd say carry more than 500 ml. but less than 1.5 liters.  And refill at every town, especially before Los Arcos.  And, on the Meseta, have at least a liter.

Camino etiquette:  If it's hot, you might want to take a cue from this British public service announcement:

4.  I didn't wear my sunglasses much while walking because I didn't want to get raccoon eyes, but this fugly cap saved me from squinting and getting wrinkles.  It also covered up the sides of my face and my neck.

(Internet file photo.)

5.  We only did laundry every other day.  We also only changed clothing every other day, except for underwear, of course, which we changed everyday.  But everything dried really quickly, without the help of a secadora.  I only ever had to carry damp clothing twice, if i remember correctly, and that was closer to Santiago, in Galicia, where it was more humid and not all albergues had dryers.

These are my recommendations for ladies on what clothing to bring:

• One fleece jacket.
• One top and one bottom base layer.  (Although I only used the bottom base layer.)  I like Icebreaker because it's made of Merino Wool.
• One pair of warm gloves.
• One scarf or balaclava.
• For the rain and the cold, I brought a windbreaker that I had bought a few years back in Brittany.  I also had a small umbrella for light rain.

Windswept.

• Two quick-drying T-shirts, although I wish I had gotten singlets instead since it was sunny most of the time and I didn't want a T-shirt tan so I kept pushing my sleeves up.
• If you do get T-shirts or singlets, something like this might come in handy, in case it gets a bit chilly or if you want to protect your arms from the sun:

I'm not sure what it's called.  A bolero?  A shrug?  (She shrugged.)  Internet file photo.

• Two quick-drying pants that convert to shorts.  (I only had one, which I wore almost everyday.  When I wasn't wearing it, I had a pair of black shorts.)  I like North Face because their shorts are shorter than Columbia's.  And I still fold mine up whenever I wear them.
• Two sports bras.
• Two pairs of underwear.  Give yourself a break and wear the lacy stuff.
• Two pairs of socks.  I actually used only one.  I brought some shit pairs of socks, then finally Rosan gave me one of hers so I threw mine away and wore the ones she gave me everyday - and, yes, I only washed them every other day.
• One pair of compression socks to be worn at night.

Check out the compression socks on Rosan, Raffy and me.  Clockwise from left:  Rosan, me, Stephen, Gen, Maria (- the albergue manager), Raffy, and Alan.  At Albergue El Paso at Vega de Valcarce.  Photo c/o Rosan Cruz.

• For sleeping, we were advised to change into our clean walking clothes and sleep in them so that, in the morning, we could just roll out of bed, ready to walk.  But that meant having to wash our clothes everyday, not to mention having to wear those synthetics to bed.  A lot of people slept in their undies.  I would change into a cotton T-shirt and some loose pants after walking.  I'd wear this to dinner and then to bed, minus the pants.  If I ever do the Camino again, I'd probably bring a T-shirt dress to change into, which I could wear with the bottom base layer if I had to go out.

Hot tip:  Don't bring anything that has to be segregated when washed or that can't be thrown into the dryer.

6.  Since we're on the subject of sleeping stuff, you'll definitely need an eye mask and some ear plugs.

A big thank you to Gen for giving us some of these French ear plugs!  I cannot recommend them enough.  After having been kept awake on several nights by snorers, these were a godsend.

(Internet file photo.)

While I hardly used a sleeping bag, there was one time that I really needed it, and that was at that donativo in Grañon.  So just because you'll never know when you'll need it, bring one.  Although I must say that we did NOT encounter bed bugs anywhere.

This is the third time I've borrowed this Salewa sleeping bag from my Siargao neighbor, Abe Tolentino.  I like it because it's light and compact, so compact that it can be a bitch to repack which was why I hardly used it, and it also keeps you warm.

7.  Footwear:  Invest in really good waterproof hiking shoes, and break them in several months before going on the Camino.  I have a trusty pair of Columbias that served me well in Patagonia.  On the Camino, however, I noticed that they held up well, as long as I kept the distances under 22, maybe 24 kilometers.  After that, I might as well have been barefoot.  I'm not sure if the experience was the same for everyone.  But, yeah, after some distance, no matter how good your shoes are, your feet just don't want to go on anymore.

You'll also need some flip-flops for the showers.  These can serve as your recovery shoes.

Hot tip:  Lace boots all the way up when hiking uneven terrain, but if you're walking through flatlands, don't lace them all the way up.  Leave some room for the ankle to move.  This tip was brought to you by The Guru Adolfo.

8.  Walking sticks.  Get two and use them!  They'll make your life much easier, especially when going uphill or downhill.  And when you're losing the will to live.

Pro tip:  Personalize your stuff!  A lot of sticks, bags, and shoes look the same and you don't want someone leaving early in the morning, when there is hardly any light, to pick up your stuff by mistake, or vice versa.  So find a way to distinguish your stuff that will make them easy to spot.  I found some funky-looking bright pink animal print duct tape at Ace Hardware and wrapped that around my sticks.  On my bag, I kept the plastic flower that comes with Deuter's backpack for women.  Different colored laces or some safety pins will work on shoes.

Camino etiquette:  Please show some respect for the residents and do not to clack your walking sticks against the pavement when you enter small towns and villages.  

9.  Get a toiletry kit that you can hang.  If you intend to walk for 30 days, then you'll probably be shampooing every other day so buy 15 sachets of shampoo and 15 of conditioner.  And, of course, don't forget the following:  toothbrush, medium-sized toothpaste, deodorant/anti-perspirant, small-sized soap in a soap dish, medium-sized lotion that you can use for the face and the body, lip balm, small-sized sunblock, wide-toothed comb.  Oh, and make sure you pack your headlamp into your toiletry kit.  Some of those albergues have those lights that turn off automatically even if you're still in the shower.

You'll need one of those tiny square quick-drying towels.  I also packed a turban towel from Aquazorb for when I washed my hair.

(Website screenshot.)

10.  Medicine kit:  Forget the Vaseline and the Compeed.  The advice contained in this blog sounds very much like it came from The Guru Adolfo, so read it and pack accordingly:

• How To Prevent Blisters.
• How To Deal With Blisters.

Don't forget pills for stuff like diarrhea and the flu.  I got really sick on our last day in Santiago.  I had fever and the chills.  It's a good thing Alan had some meds but they only masked the symptoms.  Since Raffy had been sick for a few days as well, he had a strong antibiotic and that seemed to knock it out.

   
When I was sick, Alan and Raffy came back to our room after a night out, with Gen in tow, so that we could all ring in Alan's birthday together at midnight.  Photos c/o Genevieve Slattery.

11.  Electronics:  Limit your electronics to one smart phone with a good camera, your charger, a good pair of earphones, and one of these:

(Internet file photo.)

I like the Lifetrons Worldwide Travel Adaptor because it has two USB ports so you can charge multiple things at a time.  It does have an annoying blue light that goes on when it is plugged so be sure to cover it with something so that it doesn't keep you awake at night.

You'll also need a small power bank, like this:

Camino etiquette:  You'll notice that a lot of albergues and bars will have automatic lights and taps, which are really a pain-and-a-half.  But they are obviously concerned about conserving electricity and water.  So when you encounter an albergue/bar/restaurant that doesn't have these automatic lights and/or taps, be grateful and don't make them regret not installing them.  Conserve electricity and water.  Don't leave the lights on and don't leave the water running.

12.  Miscellaneous:

• A laundry mesh bag.
• A small pack of tissues or WetOnes for when you have to pee in the woods, but be sure to have a plastic bag to put it in which you can dispose of properly later.  Camino etiquette:  Do not leave your trash out on the Camino!
• A set of plastic utensils.
• A good knife.
• A small pair of scissors.
• A nail cutter.
• A whistle.
• A laminated color photocopy of your passport.  (I kept my passport hidden in a safe place and only ever showed the photocopy at the albergues.)

13.  While we stopped at almost every bar along the Camino, there were times when we were hungry with no bar in sight.  Always carry a little bit of food with you, especially when starting out very early in the morning, before anything is open.  Maybe some crackers, some ham and cheese.  Definitely some chocolate.  Always have some chocolate.  If you're still walking late in the afternoon, you'll definitely need it to get you going.

I lovelovelove these Valor chocolates.  If anyone is in Spain, please send me some of these!  (Internet file photo.)

Camino etiquette:  Almost all the albergues and bars I encountered up to Sarria put a lot of effort in maintaining the cleanliness of their toilets and keeping them well stocked with toilet paper.  (From Sarria onwards, with all the tourists, forget it.)  Use the toilets the way you would as a guest at someone's home.  And thank the albergue/bar staff when you leave.

Sri Lanka Part 1: Road Trip

Last June, a group of girls invited me to tag along on their backpacking trip to Sri Lanka.  All the girls, like me, are Siargao transplants.  Kitya is from Iloilo and runs a small cafe in General Luna.  Dorothy is from Leyte and operates a laundry shop.  And Jasmin is from Munich and has a guesthouse inland.

Left to right:  Jasmin, Dorothy, me, and Kitya.  At the Kuala Lumpur International Airport waiting to board the Air Asia flight to Sri Lanka.  16 June 2016.  (Photo c/o Jasmin.)

Since Sri Lanka's airport is actually closer to Negombo than it is to Colombo, we spent our first night at a hostel in Negombo.

My first hostel bunk room!  But because there were four of us, we occupied all the beds in the four-bed bunk room.  And, because it was lean season, we didn't have to share the bathroom with anyone else.  I still tried not to look at anything or touch anything in there that I didn't have to.  <shudder>

First lesson learned:  When backpacking, always bring a towel.  The hostel may not always provide one.  Now I know.

We were each given a key which, at first, I thought was very generous, until I realised that we needed a key each to activate the electric socket and a very bright white-light lamp next to our beds.  Right-ho.  (Note:  Wear sunnies in bed.)

Thankfully, the gloomy weather in Negombo (and Jasmin's tight schedule - she was only staying a week) convinced all of us to hire our own van and driver so, for the next five days, we were in this big, cushy van most of the time.

Photo c/o Jasmin.

Sri Lanka is a year-round destination.  The southwest side is rainy from May to September, which is the best time to explore the northeastern side.  (From October to February, it's the reverse.)  So we headed east towards better weather.

First stop was the UNESCO World Heritage City of Kandy, the last capital of the Sri Lankan monarchs.  

 

Scenes of faith and devotion:  Sri Dalada Maligawa or the Temple of the Sacred Tooth Relic is so-called because it houses a relic of the Buddha's tooth.  The relic was the Sri Lankan equivalent of Excalibur:  whoever had possession of it was deemed the rightful ruler of the country.  The temple is in the royal palace complex of Kandy, the last capital of the Sinhala kings.  The inner chamber where the relic is housed is open for viewing three times a day and Jasmin and I were lucky to catch the evening viewing.  Photography of the inner chamber is not allowed.

I would have stayed on for one more day to explore the city and its interesting architecture, but we were on a tight schedule.

   

 

The next day, we proceeded further east to Arugum Bay.  On the way there, we stopped at Rawana Falls.

Apparently, if you're staying in Ella, you can do a trek that will lead you to the top of the falls.

It looks rather scenic at the top, doesn't it?

But if you're pressed for time and are doing Sri Lanka Lite, you can simply drive directly to the falls and stop for photos, like we did.

 

At Arugam Bay, Dorothy and I hung out at Upali Beach Resort, which has front row seats to the surf, while Kitya and Jasmin paddled out.

At night, we partied at Mambo's.

Me and Dorothy, grabbing a drink at Mambo's during the day, before heading for Upali Beach Resort to watch the surf.

The next day, we started heading back west, towards Kalpitiya, where Dorothy and Kitya wanted to go kite surfing (- Dorothy used to work as a kite instructor there for a few years).

That was the day of the Poson festival, which marks the day Buddhism came to Sri Lanka in the 3rd century BC.  One of the ways Buddhists celebrate this festival is by giving food ("alms") to passersby.  So, for lunch, we stopped at one of the roadside tents that was offering food.

 

Kitya thinks this is the best meal we had in Sri Lanka, but I suspect this was because she was ravenous, having skipped breakfast to surf the whole morning.

We stopped at Ella for the night.

We climbed Little Adam's Peak at sunset.

Then set out the next day on the three-hour train ride to Nuwara Eliya for the spectacular views...

Except that this also happened:

   

   

 

 

And this:

 A Chinese bridal shoot at one of the stations!

     
Sadako, is that you?  I loved their style so I played the paparazzi, and they gamely posed for me.

We saw this chick in Negombo and I noticed her straight away because of her hair and, even then, she had a fab outfit on.

From Ella, we stopped at this big-ass tree at the University of Peradeniya in Kandy for yet another photo-shoot.

 

We spent the night in Pinnawala so that we could visit the elephant orphanage first thing in the morning.

I'm not sure what this elephant orphanage was about because there was no one around to offer any explanation.  The guards, with their limited English, insisted that all the elephants were wild, but the poor creatures looked frightened of their captors, who constantly hit them with sticks with sharp blades at the end.  They said this was for our protection, but I would have rather viewed the elephants from afar than have them hit so that some dumb tourist could have his photo taken with the animals.

Photo c/o Kitya.

There were also a few elephants in chains and some were, obviously, working elephants.

According to its website, it first started out as a shelter for abandoned baby elephants in the wild.  And then the orphanage started taking on injured and maimed elephants.  Which would be well and good if it looked like their caregivers had some compassion for their wards, but we witnessed more cruelty than caring while we were there.  The whole thing smelled more like a tourist trap than orphanage.

I wouldn't recommend going here.  Use the Rs2500 instead to add to what it would cost for a proper safari at one of Sri Lanka's many national parks, where elephants roam wild and free.

When we got to Kalpitiya, I thought I’d be thankful to finally stay at one place for a while, but there was no wind and nothing to do so we got restless very fast.

We hung around Srilankakite a lot, where Dorothy used to work, together with the other Filipinos there.  We were ten all in all, nine women and one man.  Well, eleven, if we count honorary Filipina, Jasmin.  (Photo c/o Kitya.)

One day, we all took a trip to Anuradhapura, the capital city of the North Central Province, also a UNESCO World Heritage Site, with all its ruins.

Someone tipped us that we should look for a guide so that we wouldn't have to pay at every site.  He would take us through the back roads where we could enter for free.  Of course this appealed to the backpackers that we were.  And, as an added bonus, our guide spoke about "time travellers"...

   

   

   

I hung around a few days after Jasmin left to party a bit and check out Kalpitiya's nightlife.

 
If there's a party happening at Lak Laguna Bar, be sure to go!  It's owned by the Swiss guys who also own the guesthouse in town where we first stayed, Gloria Guest Rooms, which I rather liked.  Another kitesurfing school with a good bar is Kitesurfing Lanka.

 
"Dorothy, stop making faces!  Let's do that again.  Gaaaahhhhh, Joanne and Kitya!"

Last two photos c/o Maria.

And then I set off on my own adventure.

Watch this space for "Sri Lanka Part 2:  On The Hunt For Duran Duran".  I wouldn't hold my breath for it though...  Am off to Europe on Monday.

***

Sri Lanka Notes:

• Filipinos can apply for a visa online.  No need to print it.  They'll have a record of it at Immigration.
• Remember that parts of Sri Lanka are Buddhist and some parts are Muslim.  Be respectful of their culture and dress appropriately, especially at holy sites and on the street.  Cover your legs, chest, and shoulders.  This applies to women and men.
• When making a deal with van owners, make sure that the drivers are privy to what you've agreed on, otherwise you'll find yourself having to renegotiate terms with the driver later on.  The drivers will try to take you to certain guesthouses that will offer them free accommodations.  If you are on a tight budget, this may not be in your best interest, so make sure that you agree with the owner and the driver about your sleeping arrangements.  (Nishan of Marine Tourist Guest House in Negombo referred us to his friend for the van.  We paid a total of US$335 or LKR48500 for four nights/five days.)

Apart from the establishments mentioned above, others I recommend are:

• The Green Room Restaurant in Arugam Bay

Kitya having a lightbulb moment at The Green Room.

• Arugambay Day & Night in Aurgam Bay for rotis when you need them the most.

• Cafe Chill in Ella

Photo c/o Jasmin.

   The lumprais.

• If you're totally desperate for cheap accommodations in Ella, look for this place.  Directly to its right is a spa and Cafe Chill.  The guesthouse is half done but the room we stayed in wasn't bad at all.

   

A room without a view.  (Photo c/o Kitya.)

• Sun Wind Beach in Kalpitiya - Whatever you do, do NOT take the super budget accommodation!  The mid-range ones are fine.  Susanta, the owner, is very accommodating and his cook churns out really good food, but this has to be ordered in advance as they do not keep any stock and only go to the market when they need to.

 
Susanta Fernando and his crew (and me). 

That entire meal was about LKR 800 each.  That's only about P260 each.

Last tip:  Apart from the rotis, the kottus, the curries, and the lumprais, you should also try the wadeh (pronounced "wah-dee", a.k.a. vada, vadai, vade, etc.).  Fried savoury snacks.  How can you go wrong?

Food Recommendations, France 2016

In Boulogne-Billancourt:

• Plantxa

Nicolas and I stumbled on this restaurant in Boulogne-Billancourt.  We were there early and were able to get a table without a reservation, but the small space filled up quickly so it might be advisable to call in advance for a table.  The clientele seems to be mostly young, hip, and well-heeled.  The menu is small and changes daily.

Because we only came across the restaurant by chance and had no expectations of it, we were pleasantly surprised with the quality and inventiveness of the food.   

The only description on the menu for this starter was "oeuf / cevennes / creste d'gallo".  I only understand the word "oeuf", which is "egg", and I love anything with eggs, so I ordered it.  Whatever it was, it was exquisite!

My veal dish.

Nicolas' fish.

• Restaurant Shiki

Nicolas and I were hoping to have lunch here on December 31st but it was closed when we turned up, which was how we ended up at Plantxa down the street.  We returned for dinner at another time and I'm glad that we did.  I cannot recommend this restaurant enough.  The memory of it still has me swooning.  

We had the bento, the contents of which were as follows:

Most of the food is traditional Japanese but some of it, like the miso soup with mussels, have a French flourish.

Nicolas and his mom loved this green tea crêpe. 

In Bourgogne:  

• The home cooking of Nicolas' sister and her husband.

Nicolas' sister, Nathalie, and her husband, Pascal, are excellent cooks.  When we arrived, Nathalie had a wonderful leek quiche waiting for us, which we instantly devoured.

Then Pascal made poularde au vin jaune et morilles (chicken in yellow wine and morel mushrooms) with gratin dauphinois (a potato dish with creme fraiche).

Then, of course, they got us the specialties from the region like jambon persillé (ham and parsley terrine):

Jambon persillé comes in all shapes and sizes but looks more or less like the above photo.  (Internet file photo.)

And Epoisses cheese, one of my favorite cheeses:

It's a stinker, but it's really yummy.  (Internet file photo.)

And, because Pascal works with one of the Chassagne Montrachet wineries, we were served only the best wines.

In Avoriaz:

The first time I went to Avoriaz with Nicolas, we went through Geneva, where we visited with an old friend of his before hiring a car to take us up the mountain to a lonely winter station, where we were picked up by a horse-drawn carriage that took us to Avoriaz, a French ski resort town in Portes du Soleil.

Paris to Avoriaz was a bit more of  trek.  We already broke up the trip with a stop to visit Nicolas' sister, and the remainder of the trip was still too long.  It took us two more trains (stopping at Bellegarde and Thonon), one taxi ride (to Morzine), a ski lift, and one of those monster ski-resort vehicles to finally reach Nicolas' family chalet in Avoriaz.

The view from our room at the chalet.

The main drag.

• La Boule de Neige

If ever you find yourself in this region of France, if there is one dish that you should have, it's the tartiflette, an evil combination of potatoes, onions, lardon (the French version of bacon), and reblochon cheese.  Yep, your entire day's calorie requirement in one dish.

We inquired where the best tartiflette in town was and were pointed in the direction of La Boule de Neige.  They were right.  Nicolas made the mistake of ordering the raclette, which he shared with his mom.  It was good, but not as good as my tartiflette.  I think Nicolas still regrets his decision to this day.

La Boule de Neige's tartiflette. 

Raclette.

In Lyon:

Lyon is the food capital of the world.  And Nicolas had never been.  So we took up Lyon-resident (and our Cebu neighbor), Francis Dravigny's invitation for a visit and broke up our trip from Avoriaz to Paris to finally sample the culinary delights of France's third largest city (after Paris and Marseille).

• Le Neuvieme Art

A two-starred Michelin restaurant, its chef and owner, Christophe Roure, was named Meilleur Ouvrier de France (Best Craftsman of France) in 2007.  If I understood him correctly, his restaurant is called Le Neuvieme Art - The Ninth Art - because there was a time when cooking was considered an art form.  It has since been stricken off the official list of what is considered art and replaced by comic books.  His restaurant is his homage to cooking as an art form.

 
The interiors of Le Neuvieme Art. 

The tasting menu.  I chose the foie gras, the scallops, and the deconstructed vacherin.

The foie gras.

The scallops before and after the foam.  Saint-Jacques fraîches & truffe melanosporum.

 This is what good food looks like on someone's face.  (This very expressive face belongs to textile designer, Francis Dravigny.)  The food doesn't have to have a Michelin star.  It just has to have this effect.  I get this face even when eating Chicken Joy from Jollibee!

 

 

This is the dish that had Francis enraptured.  It was some oyster dish on the ala carte menu.  Huître & couteau en gelée tourbée.

Left to right:  Francis and Sophie Dravigny, Chef Christophe Roure, me, Nicolas, and his mother, Guylaine Rambeau.

• Restaurant Tartufo

Yes, we went to an Italian restaurant in Lyon.  This is one of Francis and Sophie's favorites, and reservations are an absolute must.  They are only open for lunch, from noon to 2:30, Mondays to Fridays.  They're that good.  

They don't have a written menu.  It changes daily, based on what's available at the market and according to the owner, Marco Asti,'s mood.  This is Marco at our table telling us what's on offer.  He speaks fluent French and English, and Italian, of course.  I caught him in mid "ou" - "or".  He was reciting our choices for starters and mains.  Everything we had was amazing.  

Upon Marco's and the Dravignys' recommendation, I had this celery risotto, which did not actually contain any rice.  It was celery chopped to bits and cooked like risotto.  It was fantastic.  I could have eaten ten more of these.

This Venezian-style beef carpaccio was to-die-for.

That's pannacotta with vanilla ground into it.  Marvelous.

Classic tiramisu.

Marco joined us for some limoncello afterwards.

Around France:

• The chocolate chip cookies at any boulangerie.

I know it isn't French and Nicolas and his mom are appalled that I am constantly eating these but, if you love chocolate chip cookies as much as I do, trust me when I say that the French know how to make a mean chocolate chip cookie.

I bought two more of these to have on the plane back to Manila and only ended up eating them when I got home.  I immediately regretted not buying more.  So damned good...

• Big Fernand

The burger as reinvented by the French, featuring premium beef that is done according to your preferred degree of doneness, and French cheese that isn't pasteurized.  Big Fernand calls its burgers hamburgés.

 

Choose the Bartholomé.  It has raclette, smoked streaky bacon, caramelized onions, chives, barbecue sauce, and Big Fernand's homemade cocktail sauce.  (Internet file photo.)  Or you can customize your own burger and choose the meat, herbs, cheese, vegetables, and sauce that go in it.

They also have yummy pannacottas.

I'm Back!

Forgive me, readers that I still have left, for I have been most lax.  My last blog post was almost three weeks ago.  I was attending to the very serious business of celebrating my birthday.

I was in Manila for eight nights, Cebu for three, Bohol for five, and then Cebu again for three nights.  In that time, I went to Bikram Yoga five times in Manila.  (I enrolled for a week and I swear I would have made it seven for seven had I not had morning appointments on Tuesday and Saturday.)  And I swam 900 m. to one kilometer -  once - in Amun Ini's pool in Bohol.  (It was hard to gauge the length of the pool but I estimated it to be between 18-20 m. so I did 25 laps).

In 19 days, that's all the exercise that I got.

Well, I also lifted boxes and moved furniture around a lot in Manila, in the process of unpacking boxes in my newly renovated room at my parents' house.  I have no idea how I sent almost a container of stuff to Siargao, threw out boxes and boxes of junk, and still managed to have 14 boxes left to unpack.  (I went through most of them, but still have about three boxes of old papers to sort through.)

The rest of the time, I ate.

Shrimp in aligue (crab fat) sauce at Tiago.  Interesting "progressive Filipino" menu, but with room for some improvement.  (Photo c/o Lisa Suarez.)

And ate.

The clam chowder at Amun Ini in Anda, Bohol.

And ate.

  A massive Filipino breakfast I shared with The Ananyana's owner, Emma Gomez:  marinated dried fish, with tomatoes, fried eggs, and fried rice.  

Among other things.

With Siargao residents, Susan Brandstetter, - yes, that's me in the wig, Elsa Avall, and David Nugent at Opening Night of "Priscilla - Queen of the Desert, The Musical" at Resorts World.  What a riot!  Catch it!  The show runs till June 15.

But, mostly, I ate.

Fresh bacon from organic restaurant, Earth Kitchen, my favorite find in Manila this time around. 

<groan>

I got back to Siargao this afternoon.  Ironic - and maddening - that I finally sit down to write in the place where I have the shittiest internet connection.  But maybe that's why I finally have time to write.  Because there's nothing else to do.

Nicolas is away for three weeks and I was fully intending to go into lockdown while I am here and resume my favorite pastime of torturing myself with exercise, diet, and documentation.  But, well, we all know by now that I was born without a spine or will power.  (I just made plans to go out on the town tomorrow night with a girlfriend and booked a table at Sagana to kick things off.)

Doh!

You Don't Know What You Have...

... until you clean your room.

True story.

Ten billion years ago, when the earth cooled and my parents bought their new home, I thought it was time to move out.  My parents - and a parade of relatives - threatened, pleaded and bribed.  Because they had bought two identical houses and knocked down some walls to turn it into one big house, my parents offered me the second master's bedroom.  And because I wasn't really prepared to run my own household (- one of the threats was that I couldn't drop off my laundry at my folks' and had to do it myself), I accepted.

For years, I lived happily in one of the two biggest rooms in the house, until my parents realized that I was never really home and merely used their house as a changing room between travels.  I was summarily kicked out of the master's bedroom into the smallest room in the house, our equivalent of Harry Potter's "cupboard under the stairs".

Which was fine, had I not been lugging home various stuff from my travels all over the world.  Souvenirs and knickknacks were lodged under the bed, at the foot of the bed, under the dressers, crammed into and onto shelves and cabinets, and piled high in corners.

My mother often peeked into my room with a disapproving frown.  It had long been cordoned off as a hazard area.  Maids were instructed (by me) not to enter, although they usually made an attempt at cleaning whenever they'd hear of my impending return.

Last year, my parents finally issued a decree:  I must clear the premises post haste.  They were kicking me out - temporarily.  They were having the house renovated.

As I write this, the ceiling is being torn up, walls are being repainted, bathrooms are being retiled.  The house is covered in a thick layer of dust and, consequently, so are we.

The timing couldn't have been more perfect actually.  I was going away to India for a month-and-a-half anyway.  But there was still that unpleasant business of clearing out my room that had to be taken care of.

So, since the beginning of the year, I've done almost nothing but pack my life into boxes.  I'd start packing late in the afternoon, after the workers had gone for the day, and keep going until one, two, three in the morning.  Then thoughts of everything that still had to be done, especially this last week, would wake me up at around 6:30 and I'd go at it again until the workers arrived or I had to be somewhere.  So, yes, I am pretty much knackered.  Especially since I still have that throat thing going.

It's unbelievable how much stuff I have.  How many hats, hoodies, shawls and bags can one possibly have?  (The correct answer to that, if you are a girl, is "Not enough.")

I finally decided to ship most of my stuff to Siargao.  While the house Nicolas and I are building there isn't ready yet, at the very least, we have storage space.

I dragged out the Thai cushions from Koh Samui underneath my bed.  To my disappointment, most of the artwork that I acquired in Lagos had crumbled to dust inside an old suitcase.  But I did find the bronze sculptures that cost me close to £200 in excess luggage charges to bring back to the Philippines.

Thai cushions.  (Internet file photo)

The tapestries sewn together from old saris that I haggled for for hours from a merchant in Jaiselmer and the bed runners that I bought from a hotel in Tashkent are intact.  As is the wall art that my mom gave me from Ulan Bator.  Although my prized wooden backgammon set from Athens looks shabbier and a lot less impressive than I remember it to be.

I already brought the bowls I bought from Hanoi and Shanghai to Siargao, but the underbelly of my bed did spew out cups and pitchers from artist, Ugu Bigyan in Quezon, and unknown potters in Sagada and small towns in France.  I wrapped them in silk and cotton material from Luang Prabang and Siem Reap, and saris, sarongs and shawls from all over India.

Into boxes went wood carvings made by inmates in Palau, masks from Bali and Venice, and miniature paintings from Udaipur.  I unfurled beautiful banigs (woven mats) and rugs from Zamboanga, Bohol, Baler and Mindoro that I oohed and aahed at all over again.  I rolled them together with etchings from the bas reliefs of the ancient city of Angkor.

Banigs.  (Internet file photo)

I decided to let the professionals handle the dragon-shaped sungka I got from Davao, the 3.5-foot wooden bulol (rice god) from Banaue, and my grandmother's antique bed. 

This is a typical sungka set.  Mine is more elaborate.  (Internet file photo)

My bulol is similar to this.  (Internet file photo)

I threw away outdated books, pirated DVDs, old cassette tapes, and unread magazines.  I even tossed an old film camera that still works.  With everything I threw away, I felt lighter.  Things that I had clung on to for years, I tossed into a bin without a care.

And, still, there was too much.  I hauled boxes and boxes from my room, yet it wasn't until this week that it seemed like I was finally clearing some space. 

The hardest to deal with was the paperwork.  Old cards and letters, maps and notes from past travels, faded photographs and their negatives...  I have a box full of airline tickets and boarding passes accumulated from the first ten years of wanderlust.  (I since discontinued collecting these but kept the box of old mementos underneath my bed.)  All these, including stuff I don't know what to do with like strange traditional hats from Kyrgyzstan and a miniature voodoo doll that was a gift, I chucked into several boxes marked "For sorting".  I'll deal with it when I get back.

Kyrgyz men wearing traditional Kalpak hats.  (Internet file photo)

As I packed everything into boxes, every piece, every scrap of paper brought back stories of where I had been and what I had done.  Even old cassette tapes brought back memories of old friends and happy times.  Even if the details were sometimes fuzzy, everything evoked a feeling associated with a distant memory.

So many wonderful things that had been hidden away for so long.  It was actually a fear of mine that I would pass away without any of these things ever seeing the light of day.  I wondered, when they were eventually found, if they would end up in the trash or some curio shop?  Would they be split up and go to different people, or would maybe my mom or Nicolas want to keep them?

Yesterday, as I was leaving my parents' home in the early hours of the morning to board a plane for Bangkok, for a moment, I could feel the winds of change blow through the strangely empty room and prickle the hairs on my arms.  All the closets, drawers and shelves were bare, and the bed was stripped.  Everything that I owned was in boxes downstairs.  As I stretched the final strip of packing tape over a cardboard box, sealing in the last pieces of my so-called life "for sorting", I wondered, if I lost it all, would I care?  I know that nobody else would.  Did I really need all this to prove that I existed?

Last night, I roamed Bangkok's busy street market.  I looked at all the pretty things that, once upon a time, I would have haggled for and brought home as trophies.  But I remembered all the boxes of similar pretty things that were hidden away for a very long time, and still remained in boxes, and I walked away.

I did buy myself some very lovely beach dresses.

What???

"Out with the old and in with the new", right?  And what do you think I underpacked for?  (14 kilos at the Manila check in, and 15-point-something upon departure from Bangkok.)

I touch down in Mumbai in half an hour.  While the past holds many treasures, so does the present and the imminent future.  The wonderful thing about life is that it keeps going on.

6:24 PM
Jet Airways
Bangkok to Mumbai
Flight 9w-0069

Counting Out Loud at The Changi Airport

• Five and a half hours lay-over in Singapore.  (Nicolas and I are on our way to Myanmar.)
• One hour of sleep.
• Three meals before 10:30 AM.
• Zero credit cards.  (Magnetic strip fucked.)
• 51% charge on my MacBook.  Over and out.

 

The Decadent Week That Was

As predicted, last week was a disaster.  I seem to be on a Get-Fat Diet.  And I am very successful at it.

Monday

Siargao:  I had fruit and coconut milk for breakfast.  Raw and Paleo.  A deceptively good start to the week.  Of course, as soon as I boarded the plane for Cebu, I bought a pack of chocolate chip cookies.  I only had two though and gave away the rest.

Cebu:  Butch Carungay, of Avatar Accessories, is now the concessionaire at the Mactan Airport in Cebu (article to follow but I can't say when).  As research for the not-quite-up-and-may-never-be-coming article, I tried two dishes at Zubuchon - the lechon mami and chorizo pan de sal (- they sound better than they actually are) - then joined Butch at the bar for some chocoron, Belgian lace cookies, and red wine.

Manila:  Went straight from the airport to Rosan's Kundalini Yoga birthday celebration at Yoga Plus in Makati.  After an hour and a half of Kundalini Yoga, we had some very non-Paleo vegetarian food, then I went to Cirkulo for more red wine to celebrate Kuala Lumpur-based BFF, Mia Trinidad-Hashim,'s birthday.

Plenty of smokes.

Tuesday

Manila:  Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred, Level 2.

I was trying to be reasonable with my food at home, but then I went to my my sister-in-law's exhibit at Whitespace and we were early so I treated my other sister-in-law to some cakes (yes, plural) at Kitchen's Best, because it makes the best cakes in town.  And then I ate everything at the exhibit, and drank everything, and smoked everything.  My parents were there so does that count as misbehaving?

Wednesday (Nicolas arrived late in the evening.)

Manila:  Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred, Level 2.

Tried to be good.  Skipped dinner.  No smokes.

Thursday

Manila:  Jazz Le Pole (1.5 hours).

Spent the whole morning Googling "hole-in-the-wall restaurants around Makati Avenue and P. Burgos".  After my workout, Nicolas and I tried Min Sok for some Korean grub.  He didn't like the place, but we both agreed that the food was very good.  Nicolas had a meeting in the evening so I ditched my hole-in-the-wall list and had dinner instead at Kabila (- I found the bagnet dry this time around, but the beef adobo was excellent) and drinks at M Cafe.  Started with gin, ended with vodka.  Some smokes.

Friday

Manila:  Unexpected muscle pain from Jazz Le Pole.  Bailed on Kundalini Yoga and had a massage instead.  Must thank Chiqui Mabanta for passing on Karen Hennesy's recommendation of Island Spa along Jupiter Street.  Their deep tissue massage was exactly what I needed!

Discovered the grilled cheese sandwich with potato chips at The Clipper Hotel, my new favorite room service item!  Lunch was at LSQ, a northern Chinese restaurant off P. Burgos.  Nicolas didn't like it, although he liked the hot and sour soup.  I thought it was good.  I liked the combination of century egg, spicy shrimp, Beijing-style stir-fried cabbage and preserved vegetables and pork fried rice.  We both weren't too crazy about the dumplings.  Needless to say, I ordered too much.  Again.  Dinner was at Cirkulo with Malu and Rosan and a bottle of Batard-Montrachet Grand Cru.  Snacked at Corner Tree Cafe in the afternoon and El Chupacabra in the evening (- both of which are Chiqui Mabanta's joints).  Some smokes.

Saturday

Manila:  Another order of that grilled cheese sandwich with potato chips at The Clipper!  (Don't forget to crush the chips in the sandwich!)

Balesin:  Nicolas and I flew with friends to Balesin Island for the weekend to celebrate Rosan and MiaTrin's birthdays again.

For exercise, the girls and I swam in the pool and did this:

 

and:

 

Nicolas thought that our lunch alone at Sakura, the Japanese restaurant, was worth the trip to Balesin.  The maki roll named after Chef Edo San was the bomb, as was the one with unagi and the one with soft-shelled crab.  The creamy spicy chicken karaage is a must, as is the Japanese creme brûlée (- I tried the green tea, and the black sesame; I recommend getting the same flavored ice cream as the creme brûlée).  It's pricey, but well worth it.  (Sakura is also at the 6th floor of Alphaland Southgate Tower.  Tel. 02-337-2031.)  The food at Mykonos was also very good (- order the lamb in advance).

Lots of snackage.  Lots of wine.  Some vodka and a shot of Patron XO.  Some smokes.

Sunday

Balesin:  We swam in the ocean and did the same Kundalini Yoga exercises, plus:

 

The buffet breakfast at the clubhouse was worth it for:

• the fresh bacon
• the bangus belly
• the Vigan longganisa

With lots of garlic rice and fried eggs, of course.  Malu also brought some ensaimadas from the Salcedo Market that I should have polished off, except that I was being polite and they ended up being left at the table.  Doh!

Storm Utor (a.k.a. "Labuyo") was brewing so all the outlets were shut down except for Balesin and Sakura.  I must admit that I am not a fan of the Filipino food at the clubhouse.  I still ate a lot though because I had to try everything.

No booze.  Some smokes.

Monday

Minimum exercise.  Dodging waves in the ocean and swimming in the pool.

Balesin:

Breakfast highlights:

• the fresh bacon
• daing na bangus
• pampano in soy sauce and calamansi

We had a very windy lunch at Fish Fun.  We ordered prawns and crabs in butter and garlic, ensalatang talong (eggpalnt salad), kinilaw (raw fish in vinegar, similar to ceviche), pinakbet (a vegetable dish with shrimp paste), and Chinese-style steamed lapu-lapu (grouper).  Nicolas was swooning!  He thought the quality of the food was very good and he declared it an excellent meal.

We finished all the junk food at the hangar while waiting for our flight.  And I bought some of Joanna Ongpin Duarte's espresso chip cookies (- totally yummy, but they are even better chilled), available at the shop called "Joanna's".

I had a margarita at 10:30 AM and a vodka-calamansi at lunch.  Some smokes.

Manila:  Back at The Clipper.  Would have had another grilled cheese sandwich except that their room service is only up to 3 PM.  Finally got to use the delivery service:  212-1212 (Deliver TwoAnyOne).  Nicolas and I ordered from Draft Gastropub (- he had the fried camembert and the fettucine, while I had the onion soup and the mac and cheese).  The food was yummy!  Can't wait to try other restaurants on the website, although the website could benefit from a search engine.  Heck, the entire operation could benefit from a better website, full stop.

***

I'm dreading getting on a scale.  I would promise to start behaving tomorrow if I weren't planning on having another grilled cheese sandwich before checking out.

Back at the Barre

Last week, I got an email from Susan in Australia, asking me if I wanted to join her for yoga when I am in Sydney next month.  Her studio has an introductory offer for beginners:  $20 for unlimited classes within a ten day period.  Sue said she goes five times a week and that the studio is only a two-minute walk from her place.

I hadn't worked out in six days and have been busy stuffing my face with turkey, Christmas ham and anything and everything designed to induce diabetes.  The last thing on my mind was yoga.

Downward Facing Cake, please!

At the most, I was hoping to continue swimming everyday in Australia.

Yoga?  Really?  Eurgh.  Er...  Sure, why not?

So, yesterday, I forced myself back to barre3.  My first choice would have been Bikram, to prepare for the yoga in Sydney, but there's no studio near the hotel where we are staying.  Well, I'm sure there is one if I could be bothered to suss it out, but I already know where the barre3  studio is and it's conveniently located at a mall nearby.  And when Nicolas returns to Cebu on the 2nd, I can continue doing barre3 at the studio near my parents' place.

Faaaaaark.  I had forgotten how hard it is.  My legs were shaking uncontrollably.  But I thought I kept up pretty well, considering I hadn't done this since - what - April, last year?  The pain today, while evenly distributed throughout my body, is really just a dull ache.  Nothing too sharp as to impair motion.  Will go again tonight and, hopefully, tomorrow morning.  Will try to work in as many sessions before I leave for Oz on January 13.

 The last thing I want is to get harpooned while having a swim in Australia.

The Week in Failure

Monday, 3 December - Evacuated my dog and myself from our house at around 10 AM.  The typhoon wasn't due to hit until 5 AM, but I was sure we would feel it a good 12 hours before.  In the calm before the storm, however, I got bored.  And hungry.

Not used to being without staff, I quickly jumped when a friend said that the kitchen was open at the resort he was staying at.  It was less than a minute away so I had myself dropped off, only to find out that the resort staff was unsure as to what to do with themselves, their guests and the typhoon, but cooking definitely wasn't on the list.  I ventured into the kitchen a few times, to try to change their minds but, eventually, gave up and had whiskey-Cokes and cigarettes with my friends.  The resort didn't even have decent chips so I ended up ordering Piattos.  They only had the blue and green Chippies, when we all know that the only ones worth eating are the red ones.  Geez.

Later, one of the girls approached me and asked if I still wanted a pancake because they had made one for me.  I couldn't very well turn it down after they had gone through all the trouble.  It was thick and awful but I forced down half since I needed something in my stomach other than whiskey-Cokes and Piattos.

The wind and rain started getting stronger but I stayed and drank with the boys until 4:30 PM, before the sky totally darkened.  When I returned to the evacuation site, I found everyone huddled over their computers, in serious contemplation of the storm, while I was off my head, giggly and silly.

With nothing else to do, I checked the food supplies.  Which led me to my latest discovery:  Lady's Choice CRISPY Peanut Butter.  Yes, crispy, not chunky.  It's peanut butter with rice crispies!  What absolute genius!!!  Which begs the question:  Why isn't it an ice cream yet?!!!  It doesn't work very well with crackers but is perfect with white bread.  I was still eating it by Wednesday and only stopped when I had licked the bottle clean.

Evil in a jar.  (Internet file photo.)

I lovelovelove texture in food.  Except for crunchy fruit, like apples and pears.  I hate those.  But, when I was a kid, I loved putting Chippy in my cheese sandwiches, which is really like having crisps with a burger, right?  One time, in the absence of crisps, I put Oreo cookies in cheese sandwiches.  If I were 12, I probably would have gotten away with it.  But, umm...  I wasn't anywhere near 12 and I was on a boat full of English bankers in Hong Kong.  Yet, underneath what were meant to be withering who-invited-the-freak stares, I continued to tuck Oreos into quite a few cheese sandwiches and made yummy noises while eating them too.

Sometimes, it's good not to give a fuck.

Note:  When evacuating to some place, it helps to have along a friend who is also a chef that loves to cook.  Suffice it to say that we ate very well that night.

Exercise:  None.

Tuesday, 4 December - The typhoon passed without incident so we celebrated with a bottle of Californian red that I had brought along.  As far as Siargao and myself were concerned, the most damage the typhoon wrought was on my person, with my uncontrolled eating.  I got up at 4 AM just to have more peanut butter sandwiches.  And then, later on, bacon and eggs, then some cheese and rillette with crackers...  I stopped short of having instant noodles, even if they were calling out rather loudly to me.  (I can still hear them because I know where to find them in the cupboard.)

But, as soon as the weather cleared and I got home, I made sure to have my swim and resumed eating sensibly that night.

Wednesday, 5 December - Except there was still that jar of peanut butter that needed emptying.  Reset on the sensible food that night.

Exercise:  Swimming

Thursday, 6 December - Swimming

Friday, 7 December - Swimming

Saturday, 8 December - Taekwondo back at Dominic's Pink House, which is nice and dry once again after the incredibly gorgeous weather we've been having.  Went swimming when I got back to the house.

Sunday, 9 December - Three beers at the Pacquiao fight.

And, since we've already established my disgusting eating habits, here's another weird recommendation:  mashed potatoes, Chippy and vegetable fried rice.  My original order was for two kinds of sausages (beef and pork - they tasted the same) and mash.  They took forever with my order so I ended up with other food that I ended up mixing with the mash when it finally arrived.  It was really good.  Salty, but good.

Exercise:  Swimming

***

Weight, as of Monday, 10 Dec., 7 AM:  52.5 kilos.  Hahahaha!!!  So I didn't eat well four days out of seven, but managed to gain a kilo only on the last day.  Not bad.  And, with everything going on, I only missed one day of exercise.

Powered by Qumana

Gai's Guide to Lisbon (Part 2)

Things to do in and around Lisbon:

1.  Join a walking tour to get your bearings.  This was Rosan's idea, which was totally inspired, and took the pressure off me having to play tour guide around the city.  For only €15, it seemed like a bargain, except that, of all the billions of tours around the city, we managed to pick the one and only Baron Münchhausen tour.

First of all, the brochure said, "No reservation needed, just show up!"  Where - it didn't say.  But every other tour on the brochure was meeting at the Hard Rock Cafe, so we turned up there with ten minutes to spare.  At 9:59 AM (- the tour was at 10), I finally rang them up.  "Oh, the meeting point is at Rossio Square.  We'll tell them to wait for you."  Gee, thanks.  That information, including the map of where we were going, was given to us after the tour.  Good thinking, Wonder Dog.

The tour was actually very interesting and informative, if only we could tell fact from fiction.

Strike 1:  Our tour guide, Marta, told us that Fernando Pessoa suffered from multiple personality disorder, with each of his personalities writing and publishing their own books under their own names, with their own styles.  While most of this is true, Pessoa did not, in fact, have multiple personality disorder.  Rather, he consciously created those personalities and called them heteronyms, a word he invented to mark the distinction between his style of using different personas as opposed to merely writing under a pseudonym.

Strike 2:  Rosan pulled aside one of the guides to ask her for her recommendation on which port to buy.  The guide looked at her as if she had asked what time the next space shuttle was departing for Uranus.  "Port is not from Portugal," she stated matter-of-factly.  Right.  What were we thinking?!  Of course, everyone knows port is from Port Harcourt.  Er, no, that would be oil and gas.  Port-au-Prince?  Did anyone ask for coffee?

Strike 3:  We were walking down Alfama and I was testing my friend, Sud,'s knowledge of Lisbon since he claimed that he had lived there for many years.  "What's that?" I asked.  "That's the Sé."  "No, it's not," I said confidently, proud that I had actually remembered something from the tour.  "That is the Igreja de São Vicente de Fora," I said smugly.  Sud rolled his eyes at me.  "That's the Sé, believe me."  I checked the guidebook.  - That frickin' frackin' tour guide!

Okay, Rosan, just so that both of us know, Sud was right.  That was indeed the Sé.

 Sé de Lisboa or the Lisbon Cathedral.

That church outside the flea market, the one we wanted to see but was closed at lunch time?  That was the Igreja de São Vicente de Fora.

Igreja de São Vicente de Fora.

Now we know.

So join a walking tour, if you must, but stay away from Inside Lisbon Daytrips & Walking Tours.

Seriously, to get your bearings, get a good map, locate all the Pracas a.k.a. Largos a.k.a. Squares (Praça do Comércio, Praça da Figueira, Praça de D. Pedro IV a.k.a. Rossio Square, etc.) and you'll be able to walk to most "places of interest" from there.

Pay attention, in particular, to "the castle" (a.k.a. Castelo de São Jorge), because most everyone we met kept making references to it or using it as a landmark to direct us somewhere and, as usual, Rosan and I were clueless.  We made it a point to finally visit it a few days before we were scheduled to leave.  It was okay, but I wouldn't say you'd be missing out on a great deal if you didn't see it.  Just know where it is and be able to identify it from afar so that, well, er, you can get your bearings and you have an idea of where it is when people refer to it.   

Look out for the miradouros (viewpoints) for excellent views of the different bairros.  Except maybe for the Miradouro de Santa Catarina unless you're after good views of antennas and satellite dishes, or are out to score some hashish.  (It can't be a coincidence that the place to have a drink around the area is called "Pharmacia".)

The lovely view from Miradouro de Santa Catarina.

FYI, all drugs have been decriminalized in Portugal.

2.  Explore Bairro Alto.  During the day (when the shops are open) and at night (for the bars and the clubs).  Because it was just across the street from our apartment, we took it for granted and didn't get to see enough of it.  Grrr...

3.  A visit to Belém is a must.  It's a bit out of the way but, once you get there, it's an easy walk from Mosteiro dos Jerónimos to the Torre de Belém.

Torre de Belém.

I think that the way we went about it couldn't have been more perfect.

It was after hours so everything was closed but, as the sun started to set, the colors it threw against the sky and the Rio Tejo were simply amazing.  We sat on the waterfront, watching boats go by.  Lovers, joggers...  With a nice, chilled rosé in hand, we had the best view of the sky that was, at first, a fiery orange, then a light kiss of pink, then a subtle shade of purple.  It was stunning.  And, all the while, we could see the Padrão dos Descobrimentos (Monument to the Discoveries; this is where the likes of Vasco de Gama set sail), with the Ponte 25 de Abril in the background and a lighthouse in the foreground.

And seeing the Mosteiro dos Jerónimos all lit up at night was quite magical.  I didn't feel the need to go back to see it during the day and take a tour inside, but Rosan eventually did.

4.  Listen to fado in its birthplace, at Alfama.  I cannot remember why Thursday was supposed to be the night to do this, but I got sick and we didn't have reservations anyway - which, apparently, are a must - so we ended up going on a Friday instead.  We chose Parreirinha de Alfama on someone's recommendation (- I, again, forget who, but thank you very much!) and, according to the guidebook, it's supposed to be "owned by fado legend, Argentina Santos".

What I liked about it was that the performances weren't over-the-top and in-your-face.  They turned off most of the lights when the singers came on (- you're not supposed to talk while they are singing, although they sometimes encourage the audience to sing along), but they only do - maybe three songs? - and then it's another ten or fifteen minutes before the next singer comes on.  So you do have time to concentrate on your meal.  (I totally recommend the seafood rice.  And ask for extra coriander.  Absolutely fantastic!)

And since these were all professional fado singers, their voices were beautiful, haunting and soulful.

Next time, I'd like to check out one of those open-mic fado places which, I can imagine, might be the Portuguese version of live karaoke hell, but I would have to be massively inebriated for that.

5.  Even though I'm an agnostic and do not care for organized religion, I love old churches and Lisbon has some really beautiful ones.  My favorite is Igreja de São Domingos.  I'd tell you the story behind it (- it involves an earthquake, a massacre of former-Jews-turned-Christian, and a fire), but I'm afraid it may not be entirely accurate.  Check it out nonetheless.  The interiors are quite dramatic.

Igreja de São Domingos.

We also had the most wonderful luck of walking into the Igreja de Santa Catarina on a Sunday morning while a Mass was going on and I thought it was a lovely thing to witness.  They were at the "Peace be with you" part and people were either shaking hands, kissing or hugging.  Much like families do in the Philippines.

    Igreja de Santa Catarina.

6.  I wasn't particularly in the mood for museums on this trip, but we did go to one that I thought was worth it.  The Calouste Gulbenkian Museum.  What made it interesting, for me, was that they'd show all these objets d'art and then they'd have a photo of where it was displayed in Gulbenkian's home in Paris.

We're talking huuuuuuuge Persian carpets here (- plural not singular, mind you) and marble statues.  He had this one massive couch that I thought would look great in my play room in Siargao.  Please see picture below:

Guess where it was in his house.

Underneath a massive turn-of-the-century painting, of course.

On his first floor landing.  Right-ho.

Hell, we could have used that couch when we were lugging our bags down the stairs from Funky House IV.  Oh, wait, we didn't have enough room for a stool on that landing.

So it became a running gag between Rosan and me.  She would ask, "Where do you think he put this," pointing at some massive, horribly expensive thing, and I'd say, "There's a new chamber maid.  She'll need a Ming vase, for sure."  Or I'd announce, "Honey, I just got back from Egypt and they've excavated this something or other from some time after tea, B.C.  I'm pretty sure Jesus never saw it.  Should we put it in the lavatory?"

I wonder how Gulbenkian or his wife could relax at dinner parties without worrying about someone spilling something on the rugs.  And what do you give a guy like that for Christmas?  Your spleen?  Because I'm pretty sure that an "I love Lisboa" keychain won't cut it.

Okay, so maybe you might not have the same experience we did going through this museum, because I got a comedy sketch out of it and all I really need is an audience of one (- sometimes, not even) and Rosan and I were cracking up the whole time.

Rosan was so intrigued by this Gulbenkian character that she bought a book.  According to the brochure, he was Armenian and a pioneer in the oil industry.  He moved to Portugal in 1942 to escape the war, and died there in 1955.  His heirs now run his foundation and, on my next trip to Lisbon, I'd like to see the collection of Portuguese modern art that they've accumulated.  We didn't have time for it on this trip as it was closing time and we had some shopping to do at El Corte Ingles around the corner.

Oh, you can give the MUDE (Museu do Design e da Moda) a miss.  They have more interesting things happening in design elsewhere in the world.  And there are other, more interesting things to do in Lisbon.

7.  Do a day trip to Cascais and Sintra.  Actually, the jury is out on Cascais.  Rosan said she could have skipped it.  I didn't mind it.  Of course, the beaches can't compare to the ones we have in the Philippines but it was just interesting to see.  Ideally, this is how we should have done it:

• Get an early start.  Which we didn't.  As usual.
• Quick coffee at the balcony of Hotel Albatroz for good views (and pictures) of the beach.  Accent on the "quick".  We were delayed by the free WiFi.
• Grab some breakfast at Sacolinha but, if you're pressed for time, you can give this a miss.
• Get good directions to Casa das Histórias Paula Rego and see the damned thing. 

The Casa das Histórias Paula Rego.  (Internet file photo.)

One of Paula Rego's works.  Here's an interesting interview she did with The Telegraph.  (Internet file photo.)

This is where I failed miserably because the map I had was shit and we ended up getting lost and walking all the way to Boca do Inferno instead.  Which was pretty damned far.

"Where in the world is Paula Rego?"  Getting lost in Cascais.  (Photo c/o Rosan Cruz.)

• Hitchhike to Boca do Inferno, although I really didn't mind the walk going there.

• Then hitchhike back into town.

Walking back, I did mind.  (Photo c/o Rosan Cruz.)

• Grab an ice cream at Santini's, before catching the bus to Sintra. 

By the time we got to Sintra, it was pretty late so we only had time to see the Castelo dos Mouros (Moorish Castle) and the Palácio Nacional da Pena (Pena Palace) but, knowing what we know now, this is how we should have played it:

• From the train station, take Bus #434 to the city center for a quick lunch.
• Then walk (15 minutes was what we were told it would take) or catch a cab to Quinta da Regaleira.
• Back at the city center, catch the #434 to the Castelo dos Mouros.

• Again, get on the #434 to Palácio Nacional da Pena.  FYI, the Moorish Castle is the Portuguese Mini-Me of the Great Wall of China, and climbing the walls can be exhausting so, at the Pena Palace, conserve your energy and pay the €3 for the tram ride to and from the Palace.

• And then hire a cab to the Convento dos Capuchos, pay for it to wait, and then take it back to the station to catch the train back to Lisbon.

I'm not sure how realistic or feasible this itinerary is but, well, at least, I still have a few reasons to visit Cascais and Sintra in the future.  I'd also like to make it to Guincho and Cabo da Roca, but I'm not quite sure how to manage that without joining a tour or hijacking a car.

As I mentioned in my previous entry, make sure to get the combined train-and-bus pass at the Cais do Sodré station.  It's definitely worth it.  The train from Sintra to Lisbon will deposit you at the Estação Central (a.k.a. the Rossio Railway Station).

Estação Central.

I've compiled about seven pages of recommendations people sent me on what to do, where to go, etc. in Lisbon.  There are, at least, three other clubs that I wanted to check out and an endless list of restaurants that I wanted to try.  But the best way to see Lisbon, really, is to not have a plan.  Walk around, get lost, wander into small shops and restaurants...  Take it easy and have a wonderful time!

Muito obrigada to everyone we met over there who took us around and made our stay special!  And a big thank you too to the ones we didn't get to meet but sent their recommendations!

One last thing:  Even if you've checked-in online, make sure you get to the airport early.  The Lisbon Airport is HUGE.  You'll notice that on your way in.  (It's a loooong walk from the plane to immigration.)  So remember that on your way back.  And, no, they do not have trolleys for your carry-on luggage.  Rosan had to deal with her tax-back thing, while I just had to use the bathroom.  We were practically the last ones on the plane.  One of the airline personnel told me to run but, of course, I was in my high-heeled wedges and was weighed down by very heavy carry-on baggage.  And I don't run.

I, obviously, made it, but getting on a plane shouldn't be so stressful.  ;-)