Indonesia

Indonesia
BATU, Indonesia. Photo by Jes Aznar

Saturday, August 30, 2014

A Journey to Maldives






The seabirds -- with their thick feathers of blue, white or black and wings spread out perfectly -- flew above us and guided us as we rode the waves on a white four-seater speedboat across Maldivian waters. 

There we were, the lone boat in the middle of the vast blue sea, on our way to a sandbar called Sexy Beach. I could see nothing in the faraway horizon except islands that appeared as tiny specks of land and the birds that seemed to signal us to just follow.

There was a soft drizzle when we left the island of Guraidhoo on this August afternoon but the drizzle soon parted like soft white curtains swaying in the wind to reveal a narrow patch of pinkish sand, dotted with the seabirds that seemed to give us a warm welcome to this island bliss. I felt the soft wet sand on my feet as soon as I jumped off the boat; I struggled to keep my balance while the big waves embraced my hundred pound body and soul as I made my way to paradise.

The afternoon sun is now out, glistening on the waters that splashed on this isolated sandbar, sitting perfectly in the middle of the wide, wide sea. Looking at it from above -- in my mind's eye --, I could see us walking in the middle of a painting -- the sandbar is a streak of cream colored paint in the middle of a giant emerald blue canvas.

We had this tiny paradise all to ourselves though there were signs of life before us -- a used lighter, a drenched box of menthol cigarettes and strangely, -- I say strangely because alcohol is prohibited in Maldives -- an empty bottle of rum.

A wooden box in the middle of the sandbar served as our makeshift table.

Ibrahim, our local guide, put a white picnic umbrella that stood perfectly in the middle of it all.

We had tuna sandwich for lunch, served with roti bread and fresh coconut juice. We had a box of ice cold lemon juice and the lazy afternoon all to ourselves. The island was ours and only ours to savor and enjoy.

Oh Lou Reed, you were right: It's such a perfect day.

We stayed for an hour or two, enjoying the waves, the big, big waves, chasing the seabirds and lying on the sand before the waters rhythmically devoured it.

Soon, it was time to head back to Guraidhoo, the second stop in our journey. It is our fourth day in this island country, Jes and I.

A few days ago, we woke up in the Maldivian capital of Male, to the sound of birds chirping outside the window of room 402, our temporary home in this Muslim country of only 393,500 people.

I had my first glimpse of the city that morning, while sitting on the rattan chair of our fourth floor balcony.

I could see my reflection from the window of the building right across us, the distance was just a little longer than arm's length. No kidding.

The streets are narrow, so narrow that cars have to fold their side mirrors when they pass by; the buildings are pastel colored, mostly cream and faded yellow. For a second I thought I woke up in Lisbon, as I did one morning in the April of 2011, because of hints of Portuguese architecture. This is not a surprise, with the island colonized by Portugal many lifetimes ago.

The morning sun is out, the air is gentle. It is a quiet perfect morning, with the smell of brewed coffee wafting in the air and restless pigeons dancing outside our window, far from what I had imagined the night before.

Evening had already descended by the time our plane from Singapore touched down the runway of Ibrahim Nasir International Airport. In the dark, I could not see the paradise that people say Maldives is even as I squinted my eyes many times over,

On the contrary, I felt like a war refugee traveling in the dead of night on a ferry with about a hundred more passengers to a far-away place. There was nothing but darkness and the roar of the ferry's engines.

But the far-away place I imagined turned out to be just ten minutes away, the capital of Male, a quaint city littered with curio shops and filled with Maldivians who are as warm and laid-back as islanders can be.

They don't fake hospitality, not these men and women. There's no extra effort to make you feel at home, just genuine courtesy, sincere smiles and a ready hand to help if they can.

The Maldivian women are in their garbs and veil the whole time, seemingly unmindful of the heat on warm afternoons, though they are used to foreigners strolling the city in their colorful beach wears and wide brim hats. 

There is a pristine white mosque, with a golden dome, casting shadows on the sand; its crescent moon glistening in the afternoon sun. By the port, there is a market of vegetables, fruits and fish with mostly male vendors. The fishermen are busy unloading their catch and so are the traders, with their goods from nearby Singapore or Sri Lanka.

On our last afternoon in Male, we were swept by a big crowd marching on the streets of the city, waving flags of India and Maldives and shouting in the sweltering heat: "India - Maldives Friendship Day!"

We trailed the crowd, turning left, right and left again when the marchers did. They shouted in their revelry as they waved their orange and red flags. Music blared, too from their mobile speakers. It's as if we stepped inside a Bollywood movie, with Indian music reverberating in the air.

By the time the march ended and the crowd dispersed, we found ourselves in another huge gathering, this time by the city's Artificial Beach, the paradise of the locals, where Muslim men and women, young and old are whiling their time away swimming in this crowded beach. The women are in shirts or shorts or modest swimwear; two-piece bathing suits are not allowed.

Here, there is a rally against Israel's attacks on the Gaza strip. Songs and shouts blared from the loud speakers; stop the attacks they say, the children are dying, the women are crying, the men are disappearing.

We sat in the nearest cafe we could find after all the revelry and the chaos. Our legs were aching. We were so tired we longed for ice cold pale beer but we were in the wrong country to be dreaming of beer, malt or spirits. And so in this cafe overlooking the city, we settled instead for "mocktails," drinks that looked and tasted like cocktail concoctions but minus the alcohol.

Jes ordered Maldives' version of mojito, which looked every bit like it but minus the punch, of course. It's sort of like getting drunk psychologically.

In the darkness, we walked back to our room, there are men huddled together in the park; some women, too.

The next day, we packed our stuff and prepared to leave for yet another island but not before having lunch in a local eatery where I had basmati rice and curried gizzard, it's so authentic, the taste still lingers. Ibrahim, a local photographer, took us to this place.

We went to the port at 2:30 in the afternoon and at that exact moment we arrived at the pier, the ferry that was supposed to take us to Gurhaidoo, just left dock.

With our heavy backpacks on our shoulders, we stood there, under the scorching sun, watching the boat move farther and farther away from us.

But this slight delay would be forgotten as we soon found ourselves on another ferry to Guraidhoo.

Two men with a wheel burrow for our heavy bags welcomed us at the dock. This quaint little island is now our new temporary home, a paradise of a place and truly the quintessential islander's life.

For days, we roamed the island. Many times, we got lost in the labyrinth of single-storey homes, shops and tall coconut trees. We saw souvenir shops and the locals who sat idly outside their homes. This is what island life is -- time stops here or it moves at a snail's pace, if it moves at all.

In the evening, the sound of hypnotic Muslim prayers cuts through the silence. In the mornings, early, early mornings, the women pick up the trash while their husbands go away to catch some fish or to work in nearby islands.

The last stop in our Maldives journey is the Holiday Inn Island resort in Kandooma, a very short boat ride from Guraidhoo but a strikingly different paradise.

The resort sits on one whole island and each part has a different story to tell. Tall coconut trees line the white sand beach. Surfers are riding the waves on one part while Korean women in their flowery hats are taking selfies outside the seafront villas.

Jes and I spent our last afternoon just swimming and chasing the kaleidoscope of underwater life before we headed back to our villa.

Ours is a garden villa with a tiny porch facing a giant Balete Tree. There is a hammock and a blue green day bed on this cozy area. Here, we sipped the $40 dollar Tiger beer we painstakingly bought from the minibar, our first alcoholic drink since leaving Manila. In private resorts such as these, alcoholic drinks are available but for a very high price.

The bathroom is total luxury, with black and white tiles and a tub. There's no roof above, so at night, one can take a bath under the stars or simply spend hours in the warm tub while listening to the crickets and the rest of the nocturnal world.

On our last day, before boarding our flight, we stood outside the airport, by the wooden plank overlooking the Maldivian sea, watching the crimson sun slowly disappear beneath the horizon. The sky is a palette of blue, violet and orange, nothing I've seen before here or elsewhere, or even in my dreams.

The image rushes in, seeps through the veins and stays for good. And so we are still there, right there, frozen in the moment by the edge of the wooden plank, with the sound of the waves wafting in the afternoon air, a fitting ending to our visceral journey inside the magic of Maldives.



Photos by me

Sunday, August 17, 2014

Postcards from Maldives

Travel only with thy equals or thy betters; if there are none, travel alone. - The Dhammapada

A week before Maldives:
Jes: Alis tayo next week...
me: tara, sa Bali. 
Jes: Hindi, sa Maldives.


at the plaza in Male. Photo by me.

on a ferry to Guraidhoo. Photo by me

beautiful misty morning at Island Way. Photo by me

by the beach. Photo by me

Holiday Inn island resort. Photo by me

perfect time for a swim. Photo by me

waiting for the speedboat to the airport. Photo by me

my ootd, Male. Photo by Jes Aznar

Sexy Beach, South Male. Selfie by Jes Aznar

Sunday, August 10, 2014

The Sunny Side of Life: Maldives 2014

SOUTH MALE, Maldives - Here in Maldives, dubbed as the sunny side of life, you master the art of doing nothing. You just enjoy the sun, sea and the sand, the paradise that it is. 







Tuesday, August 5, 2014

#28StoriesOfGiving


I am honored to be able to tell the story of Ana Arce for The Philippine Star's #28StoriesofGiving, a compilation of stories of hope, change and love. Let her life inspire the selfish individuals in this society, those who care only about themselves and those who refuse to give back and share their talents to make this world even just a bit better than it was yesterday or the day before. 


Removing Barriers, Bridging Gaps for Deaf People
by IRIS C. GONZALES


This is a story of love, hope, courage and sheer determination: the life of Ana Arce, a woman who relentlessly pursued her dreams despite being born deaf.

She is the first Filipino to be awarded the World Deaf Leadership Scholarship at the Gallaudet University in Washington, where she completed her master’s degree last May. She is back in the country to share with the deaf community what she has learned. She wants to teach and help them become empowered individuals.

“I was born Deaf. When my parents discovered this, like most hearing parents of Deaf children, they felt that the only way for me to survive was if I learned to speak, and so they enrolled me in different oral schools where I had to wear hearing aids and learn how to lip read. I tried my best in these schools but still it wasn’t easy for me to adjust,” 27-year-old Arce told The STAR.

Eventually, her parents thought of moving her to another school for the Deaf where sign language is used as the medium of instruction.

“I quickly adjusted and started doing well in my academics,” she said.

But still, life wasn’t easy for her both in school and at home. Arce recalls struggling to find her place in college. She went to a school that mainstreamed Deaf and hearing students.

“In this format, teachers would be speaking, alongside an interpreter for the Deaf. But the classroom atmosphere for me was quite difficult, not because most of my classmates were hearing, but because we didn’t know how to communicate with each other, and there was some sort of discrimination. My hearing classmates would opt not to include me in class projects and activities even though I want to participate. I felt stuck and disappointed,” she said.

At home, during her younger years, she felt out of place when family members spoke to each other.

“My family members spoke with each other, and as a Deaf person, I could not understand what they usually talk about so I often have to ask them about it. I then hoped that they could sign whenever I was present. But over time, some of my family members learned some Filipino sign language. Yet, outside of those experiences, I am still happy to belong to a very loving family,” Arce says.

Arce would later move to the De La Salle-College of St. Benilde School of Deaf Education and Applied Studies.

“At St. Benilde, which I call a second home, not only did I find an academic institution, but I also found an environment where teachers and other members of the community welcomed us. I felt loved and cared for and I felt that the school was like a family. I learned the true meaning of a Deaf person and that the word Deaf is spelled with a capital D which means that I am not only a Deaf person but I am someone who is part of the Deaf community, partaking in its unique language and culture,” Arce says.

After graduation, Arce worked as a graphic artist with hearing colleagues for almost three years. It was during this time that she realized she wanted to pursue a master’s degree.

“I realized the Filipino Deaf community’s need to improve their lives and empower them, which led me to pursue a master’s degree. It had always been my dream to study at Gallaudet University, Washington, D.C., an academic institution known for its prestige as an institution committed toward excellence in Deaf education. It is also the first and only Deaf University in the world where I experienced a truly signing environment,” Arce says.

In 2012, her dream came true.

“I am the first Filipino to be awarded the World Deaf Leadership Scholarship to study at Gallaudet in 2012. I completed a master’s degree in Deaf Studies: Cultural Studies in May 2014,” Arce says.
Still fresh from completing her degree, Arce is already planning to “give back” by teaching Deaf undergraduate students in Benilde this year.

More than teaching, she hopes to help society become aware of the needs of the Deaf community.

“I hope to not only help them go through college, but also make them good researchers, and active advocates in their respective communities. In my advocacy, I’m looking at opportunities to bring the needs of the Deaf into the consciousness of society, especially the hearing people. I aim to help integrate the Deaf and the hearing together in unity, bridge the communication gap, increase awareness of the Deaf culture, and raise the respect for the natural sign language of the Filipino Deaf - the Filipino Sign Language,” she says.

To put it simply, she says, she wants to tell the world that Deaf people can do just about anything that hearing people can.

“I want to let the world know that the Deaf people can do anything, except hear,” Arce says.

Thursday, July 24, 2014

Bon Voyage

In the end, we just have to say goodbye. Curtains close. The lights go off and people leave to walk toward the rest of their lives.

And there's nothing else to say but a great big thank you. May you have a wonderful life ahead, mi dear amiga!

 Dinner at Escolta, Manila Pen

Lunch at Anvil



Sunday, July 20, 2014

Misibis, the Moon and Me

One of the pools


Stopping over at the amphitheater during the ATV drive

this is the relaxing Balinese style spa room where I had a very soothing massage

sunset cruise on the last day


Right after snorkeling.


family villas

Misibis, the moon and me

When one has been under the weather for nearly a week, turning down invites to exhibit openings or to endless bantering over ice cold pale, pale beer in the favorite watering hole, an invite to a pristine white sand beach will sound as ridiculous as ice cream on a cold rainy night.

But when that sick one spent childhood summers in a secluded resort in Palawan, under its emerald blue waters and mesmerized by the amazing kaleidoscope of underwater life, the chance to go back to a similar paradise will be enticing enough, come hell or high water.

And so I gave in, never mind that I could hardly sleep because I've been impossibly sick.

Of course, as expected, the invite got me out of bed in an instant. I suddenly recovered at the thought of another trip because as Jes likes to tease me, traveling is my drug, my barbiturates, my cannabis. The only one that can cure me in an instant.

And so after an hour on the plane and an hour on the road of rolling hills and hanging bridges, I found myself in the abyss of the underwater life once again -- cough and all -- after a long, long time.

There I was under the cold water, the noonday sun seeping through the deep blue sea, at the famed Misibis Bay.

Misibis Bay is my kind of resort . There's no wild crowd or noisy parties. It's for people who want to really enjoy the water and not to be seen or to see others.

Here, you can lounge all day on a chair by the beach all by yourself -- no noise, no nothing -- just you and your dreams, the waves and the deep blue sea. Go ahead and order your favorite single malt or have some margarita. Or you can simply give in to the stupor that paradise brings.

At night, you can swim in the villa's pools or have a soothing massage of your choice at the resort's spa as the Red Priest's symphony wafts in the air.

You can wind sail alone or enjoy the view of the crimson sun setting behind Mt. Mayon while eating kropek served with vinegar and chopped red onions. You can conquer the hilltop on an all terrain vehicle or you can go on a Hobie Cat sail, my favorite. Lie down on the trampoline style deck and lose yourself in the ride as the big waves splash on your face while the relentless sun roasts your skin.

It's not as perfect as the Puka Beach that we know or our beloved Palawan, but Misibis Bay is the paradise that people say it is.

Here, the wind whistles gently, the sand is tan and pink and the water, clear blue. The air smells fresh, as fresh as sage and mint, and violets, too.

And at exactly 6 in the evening when I strolled on the beach, a perfect round yellow full moon -- the first of three full-moon super-moons for the year -- turned the evening sky into an unfinished version of Van Gogh's Starry Night.

It is as close to heaven as one can get, at least when one is in this corner of the world, here in an island called Mibisis, somewhere, somewhere out there between my heart and a volcano named Mayon.