Reggae holiday in Guam
August 1, 2006 | 12:00am
It almost became a day trip, at least for me – last week’s jaunt to the Western Pacific island "Where America’s Day Begins."
Hounded by sorry luck while seeking my nth US visa, I learned at pre-clearance that I had a defective passport. The voice of America, er, experience, says no amount of reasoning works through those glass windows at the embassy, so never mind if that passport had just been used for entry to Hong Kong and Sydney quite recently.
The photo lamination was starting to unravel, pontifically preached the popish Pinay. So there. No interview. Had to get a new passport first, forget about a couple years’ more of validity.
Thankfully, the DFA was quick to the rescue, even helping out with a request for an early appointment. Which was granted for the Monday before the late-Wednesday fam-trip departure. But as of Wednesday afternoon, Delbros insisted they didn’t have my new passport back yet. So there went the three-day freebie tour courtesy of the Guam Visitors Bureau and Philippine Airlines, I thought.
The hosts remained gracious. Would I be willing to catch up with the group two days later, since PAL only flew to Guam thrice weekly? That would mean arriving in the wee hours of Saturday, and returning early Sunday. Fair enough: a day trip would be better than nothing, after having gone through that rigorous exercise of visa obtainment. Only a 3.5-hour flight anyway.
But the Pacific gods smiled at the last minute, with Delbros ringing up barely five hours before ETD to ask if the brand-new passport with visa could just be dropped off the next morning, since it was already 5 p.m. Not on your life, pretty please, bossing, I pleaded. And packed for the photo-finish flight out.
All’s well that went well, except that a single-entry mark didn’t exactly push my psychological envelope all the way to jubilation. "Okay, better than nothing" became my instant mantra for the travel opportunity.
Only fitting, too, to learn upon arrival at the Antonio B. Won Pat Guam International Air Terminal, at 4 a.m. local time (two hours ahead of ours), that one is welcomed at Micronesia’s most sophisticated destination with the cry of "Hafa adai!" – the Chamorro version of Aloha or Mabuhay.
The joke is that it could mean "half a day" – for that’s about what it takes to get around Guam, which at 549 square kilometers is smaller than Guimaras. But hey, the footprint-shaped island, at 48-kilometers long and averaging 14-kms wide, has a sparse population of 171,000 practically overwhelmed by 1.2 million visitors a year, 85 percent of them Japanese.
That means tourism accounts for much of the island’s revenue. A boom in hotel construction and rehabilitation gives further evidence that Guam offers an ideal, laidback destination for families, honeymooners, and groups of young people out on a relatively cheap Pacific-island lark.
For Filipino visitors, it initially feels as if one hasn’t left home at all, until one notes the good roads, clean and orderly environment, little motor traffic, and lack of visible human activity on roadsides or anywhere else.
July brings storms and rains, but when the sun’s out, the humidity is just like Manila’s. It only gets breezy by a shoreline or out in the countryside, where lush green fields and hills lord it over a picturesque landscape surprisingly bereft of people!
Driving around the city center and environs, our group of a clean dozen – with businessman Frank Evaristo and I among travel agents, plus the GVB’s Chelie Arabelo and PAL’s J.P. Nespral and Josh Vasquez – kept remarking: "Why, this is how Subic and Olongapo might have looked, given a few more years of the US air base." No, not really, since there were hardly any people. The droves – of tourists, that is – only hang around the hotels, swimming pools, beaches, golf courses and shopping centers.
Of the residents, 37 percent are made up of the native Chamorro, followed closely by Filipinos at 26 percent, with other ethnic groups like the Japanese, Chinese and Korean at 22 percent, other Pacific islanders at 8 percent, and Caucasians at 7 percent.
From the airport to hotel lobbies and shops, one hears Tagalog spoken. But don’t make the mistake of presuming that every brown-skinned fellow or lady is kabayan; most Chamorros look exactly like us – well, if often rather heftier. So, safer to start any conversation in English, and when you hear the response similarly peppered with Taglish, then you both go "Pinoyese. Taga sa’n kayo?"
In an ocean of shared destinies, little Guam’s historical narrative closely parallels ours: settled by people of Indo-Malayan descent, as with the rest of the Marianas. A strong matriarchal society, occupying a mole in the water "found" by Magellan 10 days before his discovery channel set off that debate on water quality between Limasawa and Butuan, way back in 1521. Formally claimed for Spain by Miguel Lopez de Legazpi in 1565.
A few differences of note: as expert seamen, the Chamorros built unique sailing canoes called the proa, and a smaller version called the galaide, with both utilizing a single broad outrigger. Yet they didn’t sail around in circles.
Colonized by Spain, the natives were nearly decimated by white man’s diseases. Filipinos were brought in as a fresh labor force, especially to erect churches, starting in 1688 when Jesuit missionaries led by Padre Diego Luis de San Vitores came to introduce Christianity and trade.
The islanders were taught to cultivate maize, raise cattle, produce tan hides, and adopt western-style clothing. Guam was also ruled via Mexico, and became a regular port of call for the Galleon Trade between Manila and Acapulco. Spanish control lasted for 333 years, until the island was ceded to the victors following the Spanish-American War. In 1899, the deal billed as the Treaty of Paris tossed in Guam along with the P.I.
The US Navy used Guam as a coaling and communication station until it fell to Japanese forces on Dec. 10, 1941. It was renamed Omiya Jima or Great Shrine Island. Japanese rule lasted for 31 months, until Liberation Day on July 21, 1944.
A leap to the present: now here we are, enjoying a parade of curious-looking floats on Biba Chamorro or Liberation Day, the 62nd edition. We all shake hands with Governor Felix Camacho and his half-Filipina first lady, Joanne. We have a photo-op right before the makeshift grandstand, past which files the merry parade of floats, hotrod racers and bikers, drum-and-bugle and Capoeira contingents, bands, gowned beauties tossing candies to brown and white kids on the roadsides, and business reps distributing ice cream brands, T-shirts, bags and other goodies.
In the evening there’s a grand fireworks display, and everyone gorges on traditional Chamorro food, which is barbecue upon barbecue of everything, plus Guamanian minced chicken salad and all kinds of ceviche or kinilaw.
Laidback is the operative word in Guam. Which is why tourism is booming, with expectations of an even stronger economy once Andersen Air Force Base, somewhat isolated at one end of the island, is augmented with the transfer of the US base in Okinawa.
For now, we hardly see any military on R&R along hotel row, especially around the ritzy Pleasure Island, the neon-bedecked, high-end strip where Louis Vuitton and Bulgari shops, et al., stand cheek by jowl with Planet Hollywood, Hard Rock Café, Underwater World, restaurants, erotica shops and strip joints. Well, maybe the latter betray an undeniable military presence, despite the strong Catholic influence that has kept casinos at bay, and has been responsible for churches wherever you turn.
The starry hotels have gotten into the act: each one has a chapel on its grounds, but here it’s business considerations at work. Many Japanese couples tie the knot in this island destination, before acquiring that modest tan in the few hours spent outside the honeymoon suite.
Our host hotel is the four-star Royal Orchid Guam with a panoramic view of Tumon Bay and its long, gently curving shoreline, which for the most part is taken over by other hotels. Beyond this wide bay that fringes the central commercial area is the Philippine Sea, where the sun sets resplendently.
Across the main road that is San Vitores are Marriott and the sprawling Pacific International Club, a Japanese-owned hotel with three large buildings that seem to enjoy close to 100-percent occupancy, by Japanese tour groups, of course.
Our welcome lunch is at Palace Hotel’s Ykusina, run by the Cepeda family, of Filipino extraction. Chamorro specialties include deep-fried parrotfish, tuna and shrimp ceviche, eggplant in coco milk, and traditional cassava fritters.
A visit to Two Lovers’ Point (Puntan Dos Amantes) introduces the legend of star-crossed lovers taking a death leap off a 400-foot cliff. The topmost level of the spectacular viewpoint tower has a padlocked grill fence. It’s become tradition for lovers to come here and seal their mutual affection by adding yet another Yale or Master to the growing collection. Across a garden lawn, Japanese couples also ring a bell to signify loyalty to one another. On the premises is an art gallery operated by the Guam Council on the Arts and Humanities Agency (CAHA). Young artists set up for an exhibit, hanging canvases profuse with the bougainvillea’s myriad colors.
We enjoy a dinner cruise around Apra Harbor, and a cultural tour that takes us across the island to Gef Pago, a traditional Chamorro village, where we bite our tongues while being lectured on the way to break open and husk a coconut, subject a half shell to the kudkuran, wring out some gata, and make a sweet that’s veritably bukayo.
Rope-making is the more interesting demo, with bark from the wild hibiscus tree stripped and twirled with a crude wooden contraption. We learn that the official tree is the slow-growing ifil that provides rich-grained timber, and is also the favorite of local carvers. We are shown a traditional coral rock and limestone oven that’s very similar in mound shape and name to our countryside ornohan.
Back in the city, parks and street corners feature concrete carabaos painted in wild colors. They’re as ubiquitous as the ABC variety shops and massage and sauna parlors. The best park Frank Evaristo and I manage to include in our tight itinerary is the grassy spread of the War in the Pacific National Historical Park on Asan Beach, where a bust of Apolinario Mabini is ringed by shoreline palms.
On a corner rampart of Fort Apugan, Spanish cannons still point towards Tumon Bay and Agaña Bay (or Hagatña Bay, as modified Chamorro orthography would now have it).
Another luncheon host is Hilton Guam Resort & Spa, as well as Jeff’s Pirates Cove, where a basketball court bakes in the sun before a rocky beach. The Adventure River Cruise is a treat courtesy of Turtle Tours, while a side trip takes some of us to Talafofo Falls and Yokoi’s Cave (Yokoi being a Japanese straggler who almost matched our own Onoda’s post-war holdout record).
Farewell dinner is at the spanking new Fiesta Resort Guam fronting the white-sand beach of Tumon Bay. The hotel impresses with its nearly Zen, elegantly minimalist appointments and a special Ladies Floor for single female travelers who are security-conscious. Al fresco diners opting for the nightly barbecue are treated to a lavish cultural dance presentation.
Beside this hotel is the former Tropicana, now unlit and unoccupied, but not neglected, as it’s undergoing renovation, having been purchased by one of Guam’s business heroes, Dr. Lucio Tan. El Kapitan also owns the largest shopping arcade, Micronesia Mall. A competitor is the Agaña Shopping Center owned by Henry Sy – now looking quite modest, but soon to be adjoined by an SM Mall.
Ah, yes, the shopping. There’s the large, 24/7 K-Mart, and worth a foray too are the Guam Premier Outlet and Ross "Dress for Less" – both of which attract hordes of budget-conscious or blitz shoppers. Then there’s the hard-to-find Ja Reggae shop a teen-aged son tipped us about, close enough to Micronesia Mall as we were told, but relocated sideways from its former apartment building now being demolished.
The shopping, the beaches and other natural attractions, little road traffic, wide-open spaces, indigenous culture, history, hip-hop music stations, and Bob Marley promising redemption at every other small shop make up a first list of come-ons for Guam, the little island that could.
A bargain family holiday it is, too. From Manila, the PAL Swingaround Tour starts at $332++ for a couple of nights, with an extension only costing an extra $50 if one takes advantage of the Wednesday night flight and early Sunday return. A sedan can be hired at the airport for $50 a day, inclusive of gas. Apartments with kitchenettes are also available for a week’s stay or longer.
Many Filipino visitors to Guam are physical therapists and nurses who have to take qualifying exams for "Stateside" work. It’s much cheaper for them to fly 3.5 hours here than to venture to Mainland USA. Easier to get a visa, too, or so we’re told.
Oh, a warning to unscrupulous smokers: a newly passed island-wide regulation, the so-called "Natasha Law," prohibits lighting up inside hotels, including guest rooms and function rooms, restaurants and bars. Instead, ask for a room with a balcony. Some hotels place their coffee shops beside large open windows. There’s always a way of getting around holier-than-thou restrictions, especially on a laidback island.
You may contact the Guam Visitors Bureau at 3/F The Promenade Bldg., 198 Wilson corner P. Guevara Sts., San Juan, Metro Manila, with Telefax Nos. 726-4277 and 727-7755. For PAL Swingaround tours, the PAL reservation number is 855-8888.
Hounded by sorry luck while seeking my nth US visa, I learned at pre-clearance that I had a defective passport. The voice of America, er, experience, says no amount of reasoning works through those glass windows at the embassy, so never mind if that passport had just been used for entry to Hong Kong and Sydney quite recently.
The photo lamination was starting to unravel, pontifically preached the popish Pinay. So there. No interview. Had to get a new passport first, forget about a couple years’ more of validity.
Thankfully, the DFA was quick to the rescue, even helping out with a request for an early appointment. Which was granted for the Monday before the late-Wednesday fam-trip departure. But as of Wednesday afternoon, Delbros insisted they didn’t have my new passport back yet. So there went the three-day freebie tour courtesy of the Guam Visitors Bureau and Philippine Airlines, I thought.
The hosts remained gracious. Would I be willing to catch up with the group two days later, since PAL only flew to Guam thrice weekly? That would mean arriving in the wee hours of Saturday, and returning early Sunday. Fair enough: a day trip would be better than nothing, after having gone through that rigorous exercise of visa obtainment. Only a 3.5-hour flight anyway.
But the Pacific gods smiled at the last minute, with Delbros ringing up barely five hours before ETD to ask if the brand-new passport with visa could just be dropped off the next morning, since it was already 5 p.m. Not on your life, pretty please, bossing, I pleaded. And packed for the photo-finish flight out.
All’s well that went well, except that a single-entry mark didn’t exactly push my psychological envelope all the way to jubilation. "Okay, better than nothing" became my instant mantra for the travel opportunity.
Only fitting, too, to learn upon arrival at the Antonio B. Won Pat Guam International Air Terminal, at 4 a.m. local time (two hours ahead of ours), that one is welcomed at Micronesia’s most sophisticated destination with the cry of "Hafa adai!" – the Chamorro version of Aloha or Mabuhay.
The joke is that it could mean "half a day" – for that’s about what it takes to get around Guam, which at 549 square kilometers is smaller than Guimaras. But hey, the footprint-shaped island, at 48-kilometers long and averaging 14-kms wide, has a sparse population of 171,000 practically overwhelmed by 1.2 million visitors a year, 85 percent of them Japanese.
That means tourism accounts for much of the island’s revenue. A boom in hotel construction and rehabilitation gives further evidence that Guam offers an ideal, laidback destination for families, honeymooners, and groups of young people out on a relatively cheap Pacific-island lark.
For Filipino visitors, it initially feels as if one hasn’t left home at all, until one notes the good roads, clean and orderly environment, little motor traffic, and lack of visible human activity on roadsides or anywhere else.
July brings storms and rains, but when the sun’s out, the humidity is just like Manila’s. It only gets breezy by a shoreline or out in the countryside, where lush green fields and hills lord it over a picturesque landscape surprisingly bereft of people!
Driving around the city center and environs, our group of a clean dozen – with businessman Frank Evaristo and I among travel agents, plus the GVB’s Chelie Arabelo and PAL’s J.P. Nespral and Josh Vasquez – kept remarking: "Why, this is how Subic and Olongapo might have looked, given a few more years of the US air base." No, not really, since there were hardly any people. The droves – of tourists, that is – only hang around the hotels, swimming pools, beaches, golf courses and shopping centers.
Of the residents, 37 percent are made up of the native Chamorro, followed closely by Filipinos at 26 percent, with other ethnic groups like the Japanese, Chinese and Korean at 22 percent, other Pacific islanders at 8 percent, and Caucasians at 7 percent.
From the airport to hotel lobbies and shops, one hears Tagalog spoken. But don’t make the mistake of presuming that every brown-skinned fellow or lady is kabayan; most Chamorros look exactly like us – well, if often rather heftier. So, safer to start any conversation in English, and when you hear the response similarly peppered with Taglish, then you both go "Pinoyese. Taga sa’n kayo?"
In an ocean of shared destinies, little Guam’s historical narrative closely parallels ours: settled by people of Indo-Malayan descent, as with the rest of the Marianas. A strong matriarchal society, occupying a mole in the water "found" by Magellan 10 days before his discovery channel set off that debate on water quality between Limasawa and Butuan, way back in 1521. Formally claimed for Spain by Miguel Lopez de Legazpi in 1565.
A few differences of note: as expert seamen, the Chamorros built unique sailing canoes called the proa, and a smaller version called the galaide, with both utilizing a single broad outrigger. Yet they didn’t sail around in circles.
Colonized by Spain, the natives were nearly decimated by white man’s diseases. Filipinos were brought in as a fresh labor force, especially to erect churches, starting in 1688 when Jesuit missionaries led by Padre Diego Luis de San Vitores came to introduce Christianity and trade.
The islanders were taught to cultivate maize, raise cattle, produce tan hides, and adopt western-style clothing. Guam was also ruled via Mexico, and became a regular port of call for the Galleon Trade between Manila and Acapulco. Spanish control lasted for 333 years, until the island was ceded to the victors following the Spanish-American War. In 1899, the deal billed as the Treaty of Paris tossed in Guam along with the P.I.
The US Navy used Guam as a coaling and communication station until it fell to Japanese forces on Dec. 10, 1941. It was renamed Omiya Jima or Great Shrine Island. Japanese rule lasted for 31 months, until Liberation Day on July 21, 1944.
A leap to the present: now here we are, enjoying a parade of curious-looking floats on Biba Chamorro or Liberation Day, the 62nd edition. We all shake hands with Governor Felix Camacho and his half-Filipina first lady, Joanne. We have a photo-op right before the makeshift grandstand, past which files the merry parade of floats, hotrod racers and bikers, drum-and-bugle and Capoeira contingents, bands, gowned beauties tossing candies to brown and white kids on the roadsides, and business reps distributing ice cream brands, T-shirts, bags and other goodies.
In the evening there’s a grand fireworks display, and everyone gorges on traditional Chamorro food, which is barbecue upon barbecue of everything, plus Guamanian minced chicken salad and all kinds of ceviche or kinilaw.
Laidback is the operative word in Guam. Which is why tourism is booming, with expectations of an even stronger economy once Andersen Air Force Base, somewhat isolated at one end of the island, is augmented with the transfer of the US base in Okinawa.
For now, we hardly see any military on R&R along hotel row, especially around the ritzy Pleasure Island, the neon-bedecked, high-end strip where Louis Vuitton and Bulgari shops, et al., stand cheek by jowl with Planet Hollywood, Hard Rock Café, Underwater World, restaurants, erotica shops and strip joints. Well, maybe the latter betray an undeniable military presence, despite the strong Catholic influence that has kept casinos at bay, and has been responsible for churches wherever you turn.
The starry hotels have gotten into the act: each one has a chapel on its grounds, but here it’s business considerations at work. Many Japanese couples tie the knot in this island destination, before acquiring that modest tan in the few hours spent outside the honeymoon suite.
Our host hotel is the four-star Royal Orchid Guam with a panoramic view of Tumon Bay and its long, gently curving shoreline, which for the most part is taken over by other hotels. Beyond this wide bay that fringes the central commercial area is the Philippine Sea, where the sun sets resplendently.
Across the main road that is San Vitores are Marriott and the sprawling Pacific International Club, a Japanese-owned hotel with three large buildings that seem to enjoy close to 100-percent occupancy, by Japanese tour groups, of course.
Our welcome lunch is at Palace Hotel’s Ykusina, run by the Cepeda family, of Filipino extraction. Chamorro specialties include deep-fried parrotfish, tuna and shrimp ceviche, eggplant in coco milk, and traditional cassava fritters.
A visit to Two Lovers’ Point (Puntan Dos Amantes) introduces the legend of star-crossed lovers taking a death leap off a 400-foot cliff. The topmost level of the spectacular viewpoint tower has a padlocked grill fence. It’s become tradition for lovers to come here and seal their mutual affection by adding yet another Yale or Master to the growing collection. Across a garden lawn, Japanese couples also ring a bell to signify loyalty to one another. On the premises is an art gallery operated by the Guam Council on the Arts and Humanities Agency (CAHA). Young artists set up for an exhibit, hanging canvases profuse with the bougainvillea’s myriad colors.
We enjoy a dinner cruise around Apra Harbor, and a cultural tour that takes us across the island to Gef Pago, a traditional Chamorro village, where we bite our tongues while being lectured on the way to break open and husk a coconut, subject a half shell to the kudkuran, wring out some gata, and make a sweet that’s veritably bukayo.
Rope-making is the more interesting demo, with bark from the wild hibiscus tree stripped and twirled with a crude wooden contraption. We learn that the official tree is the slow-growing ifil that provides rich-grained timber, and is also the favorite of local carvers. We are shown a traditional coral rock and limestone oven that’s very similar in mound shape and name to our countryside ornohan.
Back in the city, parks and street corners feature concrete carabaos painted in wild colors. They’re as ubiquitous as the ABC variety shops and massage and sauna parlors. The best park Frank Evaristo and I manage to include in our tight itinerary is the grassy spread of the War in the Pacific National Historical Park on Asan Beach, where a bust of Apolinario Mabini is ringed by shoreline palms.
On a corner rampart of Fort Apugan, Spanish cannons still point towards Tumon Bay and Agaña Bay (or Hagatña Bay, as modified Chamorro orthography would now have it).
Another luncheon host is Hilton Guam Resort & Spa, as well as Jeff’s Pirates Cove, where a basketball court bakes in the sun before a rocky beach. The Adventure River Cruise is a treat courtesy of Turtle Tours, while a side trip takes some of us to Talafofo Falls and Yokoi’s Cave (Yokoi being a Japanese straggler who almost matched our own Onoda’s post-war holdout record).
Farewell dinner is at the spanking new Fiesta Resort Guam fronting the white-sand beach of Tumon Bay. The hotel impresses with its nearly Zen, elegantly minimalist appointments and a special Ladies Floor for single female travelers who are security-conscious. Al fresco diners opting for the nightly barbecue are treated to a lavish cultural dance presentation.
Beside this hotel is the former Tropicana, now unlit and unoccupied, but not neglected, as it’s undergoing renovation, having been purchased by one of Guam’s business heroes, Dr. Lucio Tan. El Kapitan also owns the largest shopping arcade, Micronesia Mall. A competitor is the Agaña Shopping Center owned by Henry Sy – now looking quite modest, but soon to be adjoined by an SM Mall.
Ah, yes, the shopping. There’s the large, 24/7 K-Mart, and worth a foray too are the Guam Premier Outlet and Ross "Dress for Less" – both of which attract hordes of budget-conscious or blitz shoppers. Then there’s the hard-to-find Ja Reggae shop a teen-aged son tipped us about, close enough to Micronesia Mall as we were told, but relocated sideways from its former apartment building now being demolished.
The shopping, the beaches and other natural attractions, little road traffic, wide-open spaces, indigenous culture, history, hip-hop music stations, and Bob Marley promising redemption at every other small shop make up a first list of come-ons for Guam, the little island that could.
A bargain family holiday it is, too. From Manila, the PAL Swingaround Tour starts at $332++ for a couple of nights, with an extension only costing an extra $50 if one takes advantage of the Wednesday night flight and early Sunday return. A sedan can be hired at the airport for $50 a day, inclusive of gas. Apartments with kitchenettes are also available for a week’s stay or longer.
Many Filipino visitors to Guam are physical therapists and nurses who have to take qualifying exams for "Stateside" work. It’s much cheaper for them to fly 3.5 hours here than to venture to Mainland USA. Easier to get a visa, too, or so we’re told.
Oh, a warning to unscrupulous smokers: a newly passed island-wide regulation, the so-called "Natasha Law," prohibits lighting up inside hotels, including guest rooms and function rooms, restaurants and bars. Instead, ask for a room with a balcony. Some hotels place their coffee shops beside large open windows. There’s always a way of getting around holier-than-thou restrictions, especially on a laidback island.
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