Tangled up in Bohol

Who am I to snub a cliché? Everyone seems to be packing their bags and red marking their weekends for a Bohol adventure. So in the same spirit as Bora in Holy Week and Baguio in January, it’s time to consider the hilly and sandy combo of Bohol!

After my friend Luis Espiritu, YoungStar magazine’s editor in chief, came home from a relaxing and rejuvenating trip down south, I decided to push my weary and scletoral self to a travel agency and see what it feels like to have a tarsier’s suction pad sucking my arm (more on that later).

After a minor mishap (OK major – missing my flight) due to some unfortunate logistics, I was able to shimmy into a flight given that it was Independence Day weekend and all. (Flights to Bohol as well as accommodations were on velvet rope level this season!) Talk about fight! So I untangled my frayed nerves (not to mention hung-over self) with some PAL snacks (very Atkins un-friendly but what the hell, I was on holiday) and read some more bad news in the papers. The minute we landed, the Panglao bus was ready to whisk us off to a delilah-free long weekend!

The countryside of Bohol is what you would expect in any rural area: lots of quaint Art Deco pharmacies, buildings and clinics; sari-sari stores galore and, of course, due to a mano a mano between all cell phone companies, full signal everywhere! There, of course, are the cheesy pick-up joints with some not-so-subtle names like Sweetheart joint and a smattering of homestyle eateries. We arrived in Panglao Island Nature Resort, which had an opulent Puerto Galera-during-the-’70s feel to it (I was surprised to find out it was only five years old – talk about deconstructed vintage!) and combined rustic ambiance (close to nature, no air-conditioned joints) and comfort (OK, TV and big bathroom), in an unpretentious fashion.

We didn’t waste any time. After a scrumptious lunch of crab and sinigang, I signed up for a countryside tour. First stop, due to my insistence, was the tarsier sanctuary. I must admit that those little furballs did make me take a step backwards. Although they looked sweet and harmless, I remembered what my friend said about them having rabies. The operators, however, told me that these tarsiers have been domesticated and are clean and used to people. Tarsiers in their natural element are actually delilah-carriers and can die of stress! One word: Kava Kava. The suction pads in question (the tarsiers hold on to you by using these special claws) felt rubbery, like the nipple of a baby’s bottle. So the operator plops the primates all over me (including my head!) and clicks away with the camera. They have endeared themselves to me (talk about cheap, I only spent 10 minutes with them) and reminded me of my dead chihuahua, Hercules.

Next, we went to the famous Chocolate Hills. A special staircase was built on one of the hills to allow visitors to relish a spectacular view of the hilly landscape. I savored the moment with Victor, as I breathed in this romantic Bohol moment. I stayed a little longer, too, cause the climb up was like a major stairmaster workout! The Chocolate Hills, however, have been experiencing some molestation due to limestone quarrying.

We passed the Loboc River floating restaurant. It was closed when we got there and though it would have been an experience, the milk-chocolate river didn’t do much to pique my interest.

The man-made forest came in next – spectacular sight! Great for Blair Witch Project or Ring-inspired pictorials! Then it’s off to the Baclayon Church, one of the oldest churches in the country! It was so stunning because any repair work was done with care and tastefully so. The contrast between the crystal chandeliers and aged exteriors was breathless. Lastly, we plunked down to the site of the Blood Compact treaty, the first international treaty. The whole scene reminded me of a night at Restaurant 12 or Nuvo circa late 1500s with cocktails and all! Just kidding, just kidding! We capped off the day with another Atkins-unfriendly dinner and massage, and junk telly.

Next day, we decided to park our spoiled selves to Ananyana beach resort where my friend Pauline Juan, editor of Preview magazine, was staying with her family. Tres chic x 3, I must truly duly say! Although it was certainly a melting pot of different cultures (Imagine a German-owned, Balinese-inspired resort with a restaurant that has Japanese lanterns and serves Italian and Pinoy food in Bohol!), it had excellent service and the manager was very helpful in giving us tips on going around town. We then had the predictable massage, carb-rich meal and junk entertainment package to cap off the perfect day!

Going around in Tagbilaran is definitely a must if you have time on your hands. The shops range from sari-sari joints to mall-style mini-emporiums to touristy boutiques. It’s fun to see the sights but be warned, the car fare will cost you an arm and a leg. We spent most of our money on transportation due to the location of our resort. Panglao is great if you’re a big group, Ananyana works best as a honeymoon escape and Alona’s is the most convenient being situated in a Coco-beach-like part of Bohol. So when going around, make sure you know where to go, and the more the merrier as it slims down the fare contribution.

The highlight of my trip was the dolphin-watching tour. Although I felt that the package, which included a boat, meal and car ride, was steep (for us it was P2,000 a person) it all proved to be worth it! We left at 4 a.m. (it usually leaves at 5:30 but Luis advised me that there was a greater chance to see the dolphins at that time when they are not being stalked by other boats) and found myself in the middle of the seamless ocean with the sky breaking into a breathtaking sunrise. The school of dolphins ran up to more than 50 or 60, all flipping closely to our boat. It was amazing. We followed them for an hour or so, trying in vain to capture them on camera. Unfortunately, they were fast and we were unskilled in this sort of paparazzi situation. So in the end we only had one decent shot to show for – oh well.

After that magical morning, we ate on the island of Pamilacan, a quaint island that reminded me of Il Postino, with its weathered fort, charming chapel painted in acidic pastels and friendly island folk. Most of the residents there are skilled whale hunters. Our guide, Ben, was the last person to have ever wrestled with a whale shark, before it was banned in 1997 (thank God). Whale sharks usually go for P60,000-P100,000 divided by a team of usually six, half of which goes to the boat operator, which is more than enough. Although the cash flow comes by harder these days for the fisherfolk, dolphin-watching packages help them with their income. What I thought was total relaxation was actually sleep deprivation kicking in. I then headed back to the resort to snooze.

The rest of the trip entailed more massages and more seafood. The sky was overcast the whole time, I wasn’t really particular whether my choices of nosh were bikini-friendly. It was, I must say, a truly relaxing weekend. The sort of weekend that makes me frown as I type this for work. Just kidding.