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i will be posting here what happened to me last january 27, during my Bicol trip.. ill be updating whenever im not busy anymore.. thanks guys...

I am not the usual, out-going person who becomes so exuberant by the mere mention of the phrase “out of town trip.” I still have dozen of tasks in my to-do list and being away for three days and two nights mean I have to master, again, the art of cramming.

During the last few days of January 2008, my classmates and I went for a Bicol trip. I packed my things while I watch my favorite Koreanovela, which is a few hours before the planned departure. I realized that how I arranged my things is according to the necessary things any writer should have in their bag. I made sure I brought with me necessary items: a notebook, a pen, my press ID, clothing and money. I also made sure I have with me chargers for my cellular phones and my digital camera/recorder. What else did I bring? Bonamine, Paracetamol, Alaxan, Off lotion, Nissin Yakisoba, Mentos, Roller Coaster, Chocolitos Krinkles and my toiletries.

But nonetheless, I was never too excited for the trip. I considered the trip to be a disruption to my regular academic activities, although this trip is also an academic requirement.

I realized that the school is not accommodating to their students, especially when the class tried to borrow the “prestigious” St. Scholastica’s College bus. We bargained for the price but in the end, the Sisters did not allow us to borrow the bus, even the activity is an official academic activity that will resonate the basic principles they teach in the school, to be agents of social change.

Because the Sisters declined to our request, we decided to rent vehicles. When the rented vans came, we immediately boarded the vans, of course after settling “some” payments. It was already 1 o’clock by then and all I wanted was to sleep. Instead of shoving my bag into the backseat, I insisted that I carry my sports bag on my lap so that I could lean and sleep on it the whole travel. However, another realization came up. I was very caring to my friends that I practically did not sleep just to offer my shoulders alternately to both friends beside me. Well, of course I took 30 to 60 minute power naps.

I realized that the principle of Mass Communication of “knowing your audience” was also applied in the trip. Kuya Resty, the driver, knew that “bagets” like us will ride the van so he played mainstream music all throughout the travel. He also had a portable DVD player in the van plus a couple of horror and chick flicks. One funny scenario was when I was about to doze off when abruptly, the bass of the vehicle started pounding to the beat of Irreplaceable by Beyonce Knowles. My heart also pounded hard, like the beat of the music played in Kuya Resty’s Ipod, when he starts to over-take 10-wheeler trucks along a steep and narrow road. He seemed liked he was a kick out from Formula One Racing, driving the vehicle so smooth and easy, just like flying paper planes,

I was wide awake most of the time during the trip to Bicol. I think I dozed off for an hour and when I opened my eyes, we were already at Quezon National Park, for a comfort room break. Quezon Province was quite a big province, because when I woke up again after my power nap, we were still in Quezon.

kaecee diane and ehzel at Quezon National Park

It was already six in the morning when we reached Camarines Sur, we were looking for cell sites so that we could get signal and call our parents back home, but it seems like only Touch Mobile and Talk and Text have the widest network coverage in these provinces.

After two hours watching a gross, vampire flick, we stopped over at Jollibee, Naga City. As I knew it, Naga is the capital of Bicol region; it’s the closest thing you could get to Manila, filled with establishments and of course, a bit of traffic. We joked around saying that we came all the way to Bicol just to eat at Jollibee. Upon reaching the counter, I ordered for one Tapsilog. A puzzled face of the cashier welcomed me. I repeated my order two more times, and then realized that I should just say, “Isang tapa meal, yung drinks regular pineapple juice.” I guess the word tapsilog (short for tapa, sinangag at itlog) was a Manila coined word. They were not familiar with it, or maybe that particular order taker.

After a satisfying meal, all we wanted was to lay our backs flat on the soft cushion of the inn where we will be staying. Since we arrived at Albay two hours earlier than we expected, well thanks to our ala formula race driver, Kuya Resty, we have to do other things first. The group decided to buy pasalubong. We went to the local market and the game plan: tumawad sa pili nuts. This native pasalubong was sold, in all stores for P80 pesos, last price P75. Some of my friends bought sweetened pili nuts and coco jam with nuts. However, the other girls saved their money for the next stop of pasalubong stores, Satellite.

Satellite is like a non-congested Dapitan Arcade, having shops containing hand crafted bags and home decors. The price of the bags was not that different from those sold at Dapitan, however, the home decors were worth investing. If only we rode a vehicle wherein all our pasalubongs would fit, I could have bought these two large wall decors for only P200!

At last, we’re finally on our way to Sampaguita Inn. The moment we landed, we were grouped and we flew to each room. I jumped right on to the bed and did my favorite activity, power napping. I had to seize the moment because in a few minutes, we will again be leaving.

We rode the van again and went to Vincentian Family Village, one of the resettlement sites of the victims of Bagyong Reming. There, we interviewed Sisters from the Daughters of Charity, one of the promulgators of the housing project.

After the session, we were free to roam around and chat with the residents of the newly built community. One of the families that we interviewed was of Mr. Mateo Luzon, a farmer with three kids and a wife.

During the chat, he said he considered himself as just one of the fortunate brave souls who decided to test the waters of Albay, since he is originally from Masbate. But a quick turn of luck came when his crops were destroyed during the typhoon and his home was wrecked during the storm-induced mudflow. His only remaining livelihood, a carabao, was slaughtered by the other residents for food. He was just thankful that his family remained complete and not even one got severe injuries.

It was a Sunday then, so we decided to hear mass in Albay after the visit in Vincentian Family Village. It was an old cathedral that got us excited, because some say that if its your first time in visiting a church, you should knock on the doors and pray for your wish. Of course, we all hope that our wishes would come true, lets just say it needs a strong faith for God to grant our wishes.

The funny thing that we did not anticipated is that the mass would be said in Bicolano! We were singing and praying in our vernacular language, but in a low tone to not catch the attention of the other mass goers. Like any mass, the homily is the longest, it was also the longest time that we have ever looked dense.

Diane at si Lord

Bim, Kaecee and Lord

Kaecee, Ehzel and Bim at Bigg's Resto

Ehzel and Diane sa Biggs Resto


We ate dinner after the mass and headed straight to the inn. No more midnight stories for us, my roommates and I just freshened up and then rested immediately. We still have to recharge for another activity for tomorrow.

The 6x6 trucks of the 901^st Infantry Batallion of Philippine Army is waiting for us the next morning. We are scheduled for another group interview in their camp. I would have to say that the interviews were quite astounding. I liked them better than the Philippine National Police of Camp Bagong Diwa, whose officers made sexist remarks and well, were a bit of airheads. The captains and majors of Philippine Army were very respectful and accommodating and were proud of their real purpose, to protect and save lives.

What I noticed is that these military, who are rarely visited by students, have given their best to prepare for our visit. Even though the camp was located in the middle of rugged mountainous area filled with numerous trees which is inaccessible with our common Havs and Crocs, these military people are well acquainted with technology, having laptops, multimedia projectors and handy cameras.

We enjoyed the program showcasing their elite forces that recited their scripted lines (one of them got nervous and totally forgot all his lines, well thanks to the intimidation of Ms. Averion, one of the professors).

I knew I was afraid of heights ever since I was in Grade 6, but I revived this fear during my visit at Bicol. At the camp, there was a tower, I think for snipers. I tried to walk up the spiral stairs, It was approximately 40 feet high (much like four floors) but halfway, my legs shook and I found myself asking for help! I can’t walk up anymore! I was so scared. But then I was still able to go up with the help of my friend, my biggest problem is how to go down. I even asked my professor to accompany me, seriously, but I ended up being chaperoned by one of the officers. I was never this afraid of heights!

I also learned the proper way of firing an ammunition and that you should open your mouth a bit whenever there is a loud bang that you will hear (like firing a canyon) because it minimizes the effect on your ears. I also gained a new sense of admiration to the military because they apply Physics and Math (two of my most favorite subjects in Highschool, sarcasm at stride). Imagine, they are experts of the coordinates of the map, their commander will tell them the exact location of the target, may it be in the mountains or in the secluded towns. They will compute, in their minds, under pressure and blast off the target, perfectly.

After the jam-packed activities at the camp, we visited the ever famous Cagsaoa Ruins. It was the bellery of the Church that was buried by lahar during one of the eruptions of Mt. Mayon.

The road towards the ruins was devastated. It still has boulders of lahar, there were no signs of life aside from a flowing stream amidst the black dust caused by Mt. Mayon.

While we are in the 6x6 truck, our military chaperone was touring us with his memory during the recent devastation. He was pointing to locations identifying them as, “’dyan, maraming namatay,” and “dito banda, naalala ko may nahukay kaming bata.” Also, I was asking them if they had any encounters with New Peoples Army (NPA) and said that it was inevitable in the area. He even narrated that once they were showered with gunshots wherein one nurse riding their truck was killed. He, again pointed to me the location of the said encounter saying, “Dito kami niratrat ‘non, oh.”

We did not viewed Mt. Mayon that perfectly because a clump of cumulus clouds were situated at the apex of the volcano.

We visited another camp of the Philippine Army and then went off back to Manila. We were way off the time schedule because at 9 p.m. we were still at Naga City, eating our dinner at KFC. The real realization of the whole trip was being patient. In the van, with me, were the most reklamador persons in the whole world. I’d like to shut them off by saying that everybody is exhausted and everybody wants to go home. All I wished is that I could turn their words into blah blah blah, blah blah, blah blah! Blah blah blah. So that I could finally rest my ears with their rants. They proved to me that they were nothing like “little” brats, even though their ages tell otherwise.

Overall, I realized that even though I was not deeply excited with the trip, I ended up having 400 images stored in my digicam, ended up regretting that I only bought two pili nuts and one coco jam and ended up writing this travel article too long because I still want to tell more stories about the trip. The military also gained my full respect for their talents and abilities backed up by their strong framework of saving lives. Lt. Orlando Ramos even approached me and asked me if I had relatives in Dumaguete City because his commander when he was still studying was a Gervacio. Of course, I joked around claiming that he is in fact a relative. I also longed for this “disruption” of my daily life because I live in a formula world, wherein everything is scheduled and every thing is habitual. At this point, it pays to be disrupted once in a while, especially if you realize a dozen of things, about people, life and about yourself (me, being an extreme alto phobic).