Misibis again

It is exactly 5:05 p.m., Wednesday, and already I am exhausted. I thought I would have an easy day but no, someone had other plans. I have been walking back and forth from the stock to the workrooms. My feet and legs hurt. I wish I were in Misibis again!

Yes, as the most superb birthday gift I have ever received I went to Misibis Bay, a premium resort on Cagraray Island for the weekend. We left on Saturday, returned on Monday. I frankly did not know where I was going except that it was near Legazpi in Bicol, where I have not been since 1992. Nobody told me either that we would be picked up by a van at the airport, driven up a zigzag, of course, on a mountain, but the sea was often visible, sometimes on the right, other times on the left — always beautifully visible. I had forgotten how beautiful our country is, stuck as I am in the city or somewhere I can drive to sometimes — more often than not — the traffic is unbearable.

We arrived at a river where some of my gossipy friends told me the night before I would be picked up by a fast vehicle and taken across. What vehicle? A hydrofoil? An angel with wide wings? What fabulous thing? My friend called it a barge. But a barge is open, has no sides. This amazing vehicle looked like a ship whose tail was cut off so you can drive on in a van, a coaster or a huge truck full of cement. I think it had only one person to man it. I saw his body but not his face, which he covered with a cloth to protect him from the sun. When there were three vehicles on board, he pulled anchor and turned the ship around 180 degrees, a slow turn so the boat faces the other side and moves very slowly across. When you get there you simply drive off. From roll on to roll off it took approximately 10 minutes. I loved that part of my journey. It seemed somewhat romantic.

Many things happened when we got there but I want to write about the best parts first. Sunday morning, after a delicious breakfast, Arly, the entertainment director, told us we would take a helicopter ride to Mount Mayon. I love helicopters and am never afraid of flying. I didn’t know that my hosts were.

We boarded a small four-passenger chopper, took off in the direction of Mayon volcano, flying over hills, sea, stretches of verdant islands. The pilot showed us the most recent tracks of lava made in the recent eruption. Then I saw in the middle of the lava track a flat surface, like a plateau, though obviously man-made. It had graphics in the center and I realized it was a helipad. Off to one corner stood a big canvas umbrella, bean bags, a table laden with fruit and cheese and a champagne bucket. 

It was a picnic set up for us. We sat on the beanbags and ate the sweet fruit and cheese. I thought it was too early for the bubbly. In front of us stood Sorsogon, licked by the sea’s blue water. The sea had white streaks from cyanide fishing, I was told. The corals beneath were mostly dead from the cyanide but they were being replanted. At some point I thought rain was approaching but they told me not to worry, the clouds would move to the feet of the plateau and then get blown to the side. That is exactly what happened.

We were on Mount Mayon. Behind us proudly stood her peaks. On our way over the pilot said that if you saw the volcano’s peak, it meant you were pure. At some point I looked up at the peak. The clouds parted and she showed herself arrogantly. I laughed loud. At last, I am considered pure. I must be really getting old. We stayed there chatting with Rex, the food and beverage director, until the chopper returned to whisk us away.

Down there was once a golf course, the pilot said, and I saw a few remaining markers. I was fascinated by the trees. The tallest among them were agojo trees, a kind of pine with an odor of its own, that stood much, much taller than the rest. We had an agojo tree in my grandmother’s house when I was small. It was a thrill for me to see so many. They brought my childhood back to life.

As we rode home in the chopper I noticed chickens on the ground flapping around in a sort of panic. They flew close to the ground, their wings outstretched. Made me wonder if they were affected by the sound of the helicopter. They were really funny.

How much would it cost me to bring a friend over and arrange a picnic like that? I asked.

About a hundred thousand, I was told.

That is expensive, I said, thank you for showing it to me for free. I am profoundly grateful.

See, you have to cover the cost of gasoline and the salary of the pilot plus chopper rental from Manila to here. 

It is expensive but this resort is deigned for people who don’t have to worry about money, who only care about the good times.

And I had a fabulous time. I found out later that Arly and Tanya both love diving and hate flying. They like the water and they eat mostly fish. The pilot and I both love flying and steak. 

At the end of the day, I lay on the world’s most fabulous bed. Thirty thousand, I was told. Well, thank God, I’m just an invited guest. I could never afford the rates here.

But maybe you can. Misibis Bay is a wonderful place to stay. It is beautiful and unforgettable. When you are tired and even when you’re not, you might find yourself staring into space and wondering — when will I go to Misibis again?

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