It's Not the Scenery, It's the Attitude by Monette

The shrimps were as sweet and succulent as only fresh shrimp can be. The grilled squid was unbelievably tender and the labahita? Heaven on a plate—firm, juicy and still tasting of the sea. Someone mentioned its texture reminded him of crab meat, at which point the real crabs were remembered, brought out and demolished as happily and rapidly as everything that came before. Even the simple cucumber salad was scrumptious and the perfect foil to all that seafood. Only thing is we noticed that the dipping sauces were increasing rather than diminishing. That's when we realized the thatched roof of our hut was open right down its middle—narrow enough to keep the sun out but wide enough to let the rain in and onto us and our feast. So did we stop eating, pack up and look for another hut? Nope.

PV and I flew to Palawan two weeks ago to attend a meeting for the BCBP (that's our Catholic renewal community, the Brotherhood of Christian Businessmen and Professionals) Chapter Heads of our region. It was my first trip to Palawan and, to my surprise, PV's as well. I'd thought he'd already visited every nook and cranny of the country (with exception of Batanes for obvious reasons) during his days with McCann-Erickson and the Coca-Cola account. So since we were both first-timers, we tried to experience as much of Palawan as was possible in the span of our three-day stay. That meant island-hopping around Honda Bay and taking a pre-dawn drive to Sabang Beach on the way to the much raved about Underground River. That also entailed travelling by boat more often than I was comfortable with. But, hey, such adventures may not come one's way again (or at least in the foreseeable future) so I steeled myself, made certain I'd properly secured my life vest and breathed a prayer whenever the boatman slowed the boat in order to smoothly ride out large waves.

It was during the Honda Bay outing that we—eight couples, two kids and one BCBP mission director turned tourist guide—experienced the joys and hilarity of eating in the rain. It's rainy down yonder these days so both the sky and the sea were varying shades of gray when we set out for Snake Island and our seaside picnic. We weren't at all surprised when it started to rain in the middle of lunch. It was that nice long hole in the roof that caught us flat-footed. Yet all that water seeping down on everything didn't deter us from finishing our lunch. In fact, we were more concerned about the food getting wet than ourselves. 

We actually held our umbrellas over the dishes while we got thoroughly soaked without yet having taken a dip in the sea. But it was fun and funny if a little surreal. No one cared about our bedraggled appearances or the fact that we were devouring everything in sight with as much gusto as lumberjacks after a long day's work. And there was one unexpected benefit. We didn't have to wash the plates and utensils; we just let the rain dripping in from above do the job for us! And we still wound up with satisfied palates and pleasantly full stomachs, which was more than can be said for a large family of Badjaos that wandered into our vicinity. 

 It was quite heartbreaking when the family patriarch came to us and begged for our leftover rice. Their obvious hunger made us wish we had more than cold rice, the remnants of the cucumber salad and a few bananas to give them. As we left Snake Island and headed off to Pandan Island, we saw them eating what we'd managed to spare them with an urgency born of deprivation. It made us realize all the more how blessed we all are, a rained on picnic lunch notwithstanding.

The trip to the Underground River the following day had its own unique charm. We left our bed-and-breakfast at a-dark-as-night 5:30 in the morning accompanied by a very pregnant and very loquacious tour guide. With four of us, PV and myself included, scheduled to fly back to Manila in the early afternoon, we decided to play it safe and try to be the first in line for the river tour so that we could get back in time to shower and head for the airport. During peak season, people have to line up for hours at a time for a boat and a boatman cum guide. We'd also been tipped off that the second half of a several hundreds strong contingent from Luzon was scheduled to take the tour the same day. We only hoped that it wouldn't rain that morning because a heavy downpour raises the water level of the river and makes the entrance impassable. Luck was with us however and I have to confess that was one of the most memorable tours I've ever taken. 

We all came out of it more humbled than ever by the power and creativity of God. I say creativity because the natural limestone "sculptures" we saw within have to be seen to be believed. They are simply incredible. Add to that the fact that it takes hundreds of years for stalactites and stalagmites to finally meet and join in the middle to become towering limestone pillars and millennia for the biggest and most intricate forms to grow—well, if that doesn't make one feel like a very small speck in the vastness of time and space I don't know what will. 

By the way, did I mention the bats and swallows? They were everywhere. The swallows dove and swerved and glided every which way while the slumbering bats clung to the walls in such numbers it was sometimes hard to see the cave walls for the bats. By the way, the Underground River swallows are of the same species whose saliva is the glue that holds their nests together and is the primary ingredient in "Bird's Nest Soup". For those of you who didn't know you were ingesting gelled bird spit when you dined on this famous Chinese soup, go ahead and gag. It kind of gives new meaning to the old saw "What you don't know won't hurt you", doesn't it? Anyway, I was relieved to learn that the bird nests inside the cave can't be harvested for culinary purposes, commercial or otherwise. I rather like the idea of those swallows and bats living relatively unbothered by humans in their subterranean haven. 

The river tours end in late afternoon leaving the cave denizens in peace for a good part of the day. We returned to Sabang Beach and had a really early lunch at 10:30. Some of the men including my hubby decided to try out tamilok, a supposed delicacy a girl was hawking nearby. She said it was a kind of marine worm. It looked like a glutinous mound of clumped together grayish squid tentacles to me! Dipped in spicy vinegar and eaten raw, the vendor claimed it tastes better than oysters on the half shell. The guys enthusiastically concurred but I decided to take their word for it. I'm fairly adventurous when it comes to food but I have my limits and doing an Extreme Cuisine demonstration with something that unappetizing in name and appearance is way beyond those limits. 

Looking back, I realize it wasn't merely the new sights and sounds that made our visit to Palawan so enjoyable. It was the company we kept and the positive attitude of that company that ensured our trip would be a happy and memorable one. It's something to always keep in mind when embarking on something new whether it's a place, a venture of some kind or an experiment in one's life—better to see one's glass as half full rather than half empty. And it won't hurt to imagine champagne in that glass either—or an extra thick double chocolate milk shake—whatever floats your boat. If you consistently look for the silver lining, you may not even notice the accompanying cloud.