Conquering Wake Boarding

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Admittedly, I’m not  buff (as some of my pictures have earlier shown, hehehe) but I really enjoy some active sports. And if you will ask me, one of the best adrenaline-pumping sports out there is wake boarding.

Wake boarding is fast gaining popularity in Asia and the Philippines has embraced the sport wholeheartedly. Celebrities, sports junkies and the average Filipino have all trooped to wake board centers to experience this exhilarating activity that mixes speed, balance and love for water.

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In the Philippines, the demand for wake boarding from both locals and international sports enthusiasts has prompted the establishment of several centers including the Lago de Oro Cable Ski Park and Resort in Batangas, the Clark Wakeboard Park in Pampanga, the DECA Wakeboard Park in Davao City and the CamSur Watersports Complex (CWC) in Camarines Sur.

Of all the available wake boarding centers in the country, CWC remains the most popular due to its strategic location, as well as good planning from its owners and the local government.

You can go there by land via a 12-hour roadtrip to Naga City from Manila or you can try the 45-minute plane ride. I suggest you take the place and reserve your energy for the sport.

I liked CWC because you see, while people troop to the center for wake boarding, the developers of CWC realizes that the complex also has to cater to the families of the athletes. When athletes go weary after a whole day of surfing, then they can try parasailing and  other water sports also inside the complex.

a lifeguard saving me after my embarrassing first try

CWC also offers a host of other amenities like billiards, a zoo and a botanical garden for people to unwind after the competitiveness of wake boarding.

Inside the complex, athletes and their families can stay in various accommodations available ranging from the very utilitarian trailers to the posh and cozy cabanas. Of course, I stayed in one of the cabanas.

Wake boarding is very addicting sport. Once you’ve experienced it, then there’s really no looking back.

In the past three years, I have visited CWC for at least 12 times and I think I have improved my balance and  ability to stay on top of the board.

You are actually encouraged to try knee boarding first and if you complete three revolutions without crashing into the water, that’s the ideal time for you to elevate into wake boarding. This is to get acquainted with the course and steady your balance. I know this now, but on my very first try some three years ago, I merely dismissed the suggestion and bravely tried wake boarding.

cwc (photo from cwcwaketv.com)

I managed to stay on board for only five seconds and then I crashed into the water much to my embarassment and to the delight of the crowd.

What’s even more embarrassing was the fact that a life guard actually had to swim to me and accompany to the banks of the man-made lake, to avoid being hit by professionals using the course after me. In my defense, the board is actually tied to your feet, so it’s really difficult to swim back on your own.

I went back to my camp and I was welcomed by the jeering laughter of my friends.

But rather than sulking, I put on a brave face and tried doing the knee boarding and when finally I managed to complete five revolutions, I again tried to wake board and I managed to stay 12 seconds. I tried for five more tries and on my last attempt, I finally managed to stay on board for the entire revolution.

Granted, I never tried doing the obstacles and the aerial acrobatics but completing one round is just too great.

cabana (photo from cwcwaketv.com)

The lifeguard who had to save me during my first try, gave me a pat in the back and congratulated for braving the course. Apparently, many first timers who end up crashing, got too embarrassed and did not attempt a second go until another visit.

I managed to complete 13 revolutions during my first day and I just had that feeling of accomplishing something not many people can.

The next day, I was cursing the course, not because I didn’t enjoy wake boarding, but because nobody told me that doing it for the first time, without enough prior exercise would make arms so sore, you can hardly raise them.

But even with my sore arms, I still hit the course in the next two days, on a limited time period, managing another 8 revolutions.

At the end of our three-day first visit, I packed my back, got on our private van and waved to the course, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before I come back and finally master the course.

The Places We Try to Forget

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Hidden

By Naomi Shihab Nye

If you place a fern under a stone
the next day it will be nearly invisible
as if the stone has swallowed it.

If you tuck the name of a loved one
under your tongue too long
without speaking it
it becomes blood
sigh
the little sucked-in breath of air
hiding everywhere
beneath your words.

No one sees
the fuel that feeds you.

There I was, standing at the dimly lighted pavement, unable to take a step towards this familiar road, which I promised myself not to take ever again, many moons ago, on a night of utter pain and shame.

It has been nearly five years since I last passed Metropolitan Avenue, a short piece of road that connects the cities of Makati and Manila, but the memories and pain keep coming back, making my body completely numb.
I looked around and noticed that except for the fresher paint lining the sidewalk, this little stretch of concrete, this seemingly ordinary piece of land, looked exactly the same as I last saw it, through a hazy vision clouded by tears streaming down my face.

I was only 23 years old when Albert and I started dating. At the prime of his life at 35, with a successful career as an architect and a smile that simply makes all my worries disappear, he was definitely someone I could spend the rest of my days with.

With several painful break-ups behind me, I was determined to make the relationship work no matter what it took. I skipped work for days just to be near him.

I did his grocery shopping whenever he had paperwork to deal with. I walked his dog whenever he asked me too. I even trooped all the way to his house in Green Meadows, all those times that he told me he wanted to be with me.

For three weeks, every single day, we made it a point to be together, talking, kissing. just being beside each other was enough. Yes, that was enough.

We promised to attend all nine mornings of the midnight masses because we believed that doing so would strengthen our relationship.

In the succeeding days, I felt so happy, contented. I felt that nothing could possibly take away that happiness I was feeling. I prayed that finally, that relationship would last long, and not end-up as fast as the others.

Two days before the midnight masses were to begin, he called me in the office and asked me to have dinner in our favorite restaurant in Jupiter street. I wondered whether we were going to discuss our plans for attending the masses, so I left the office, three hours ahead of my scheduled time off.

All throughout dinner, I noticed that he barely smiled and that he couldn’t eat much. I had a sudden feeling that something was wrong but I immediately dismissed it. What could possibly go wrong? after all, we were in love and we even promised to complete the masses together. It was gonna be the first time that I would be attending all nine mornings of it.

It was a Friday and we took a road trip around the Metro. We visited our favorite hangout place in Katipunan, we drove to Tomas Morato, for a drink and we then ended up having coffee back in Alfaro street in Makati.

It was already 3am and we drove around Makati for a one last tour.

We were passing through Metropolitan Avenue when he suddenly slowed down.

I felt excited. After all, it was also along this road when we first kissed and exchanged “I Love Yous”. If there was any place, he could take me, to express his feelings, this was definitely it.

I waited patiently for him to do the first move but he didn’t stir. He kept quiet and kept staring at the road ahead of us. It was near daybreak and very few vehicles were passing through. We were parked near beside a well lighted car dealership center and we felt secured.

For several minutes, he didn’t say anything until I finally asked him, “What’s the matter?.

He said nothing. Instead, he hugged me so tightly and began his confession.

Two days earlier, he met someone at a party somewhere in Libis. I remember that two days ago, I was trying to call him but he wasn’t answering his phone. It turned our that during that time, they were having a steamy date.

He said he immediately fell in love with the guy and he just couldn’t take it if he loses him.

“What about me?,” I asked, too stunned to feel anything.

“You’re still young. You’ll forget me and someday, you will find someone who will love you more, more than you love him,” he said, staring at my hands, which he was holding tightly.

It took a moment but tears finally fell and I couldn’t see his face anymore. I was looking at him, a blurred vision of a person, I loved and adored so much. Someone I was willing to give anything for.

He offered to drive me home. I was unstable, he told me.

I looked straight into his eyes. I was trying to memorize his face, keep it inside my heart. I didn’t want to forget him but there was nothing I can do.

I got off his car, and started walking towards home. He followed me and tried to convince me to get in the car and let him drive me home, even for the last time.

I didn’t listen and continued walking along Metropolitan Avenue. He continued following me for several minutes more but when he realized I wasn’t gonna change my mind, he sped off, finally, into the night,  never coming back.

He sent me a single word the day after the break-up. Sorry and that was that. We never tried to keep in contact and later on, he became merely a painful memory I wanted to erase from my mind and my heart.

In the days after the bitter break-up, I continued passing along our favorite road but everytime I did so, I ended up in tears. Spirit broken.

I visited our hangout place in Katipunan, not to see him but to finally get over the feeling of loss and depression. I also frequented the beer pub in Timog where we went during our final night. I ended up being alcoholic.

Though Im not fond of coffee, I also visited the Starbucks in Makati we went to and drowned myself in caramel macchiato.

It maybe a sin, but I stopped attending midnight masses altogether and I never visited any church afterwards. The memory was just too much to bear.

One night, five long years ago, I visited Metropolitan Avenue in the middle of the night, and faced my pain. In the silence of the night, with only the moon as my witness, I promised never, ever, to come back to this place and to the places we used to visit.

I removed Katipunan from my favorite places. I avoided Tomas Morato like a plague and I only visited Starbucks branches outside Makati.

Some people called it stupidity, but I never passed through our favorite road again, though it was the speediest route to the office from our home in Malate. I endured the agonizing traffic jam in Buendia.

Now, five years later, older and wiser, I visited this road once again, not to reminisce the pain and suffering I felt on that night but to, once and for all, let go of my baggages.

I have a confession to make. In all those five long years, I have never ever learned to love anyone again.

All those times that I was dating someone else, I was merely pretending. I was fooling, not only him but also myself. I was trying to convince myself that I could move on and be a bad-ass player like him.

That I will never feel pain, ever again.

I guess I was lying to myself.

Standing on this pavement again, on this road of a million heartaches, at least for me, I know that that one bitter break-up five years ago, has taken my ability to love and to car for someone else.

Now I know, that I can only learn to love again, and be truly happy once I conquer that one great pain I suffered on this  lonely road.

To be honest, I am not sure whether I can completely recover but I know that I will have to try.

I am taking my first steps on this road back to happiness.lonely road.

To be honest, I am not sure whether I can completely recover but I know that I will have to try.

I am taking my first steps on this road back to happiness.

The Art of Traveling in the Rain

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It was 7:30am and a heavy rain was pounding Khao San Road on the first morning of my third visit to Bangkok.

The stalls and food carts that lined up the city streets were forced to pack-up and take shelter in the rows of low-rise building around.

Overcast skies  greeted me when I went out of my hotel room and decided to take a walking tour. I managed to take a 15-minute walk but I quickly took shelter at Mulligans, an  Irish street cafe as soon as huge drops of rain finally fell from grey clouds above.

raining in Asakusa

All around me, backpackers were  running, trying desperately to hide from the downpour.

Some wore plastic coats that protected their backpacks from the heavy rains. Those who were not as lucky and could not afford to have their backpacks (which probably contained their clothes, books, passports, their whole worlds) soaked, had to contend in taking cover from the rain, looking so glum and irrirated.

I couldn’t blame them since I too have had a share of trips that have gone horribly wrong no thanks to heavy downpours.

A few years back, against by better judgment, I decided to troop all the way to Wan Chai from my hotel room in Tsim Tsa Tsui, Kowloon to visit the wax museum and take the tram to Victoria Peak. The local weather bureau has advised possible rain showers due to the approaching typhoon but being the stubborn guy that I am, i pushed ahead with the trip and crossed the islands through the Kowloon-Canton Railway (KCR) and the MTR. During the trip, the wind howled increasingly louder and the rain fell harder as the storm signals rose from 4 to 8.

My first trip to Boracay, which I pictured to be filled with fun-filled activities under the sun, was also marred by torrential rains and I didn’t come back until after three years.

When I first visited Tokyo, I promised myself that I will have a picture at the Tokyo tower but that too failed to materialize no thanks to a typhoon.

Despite the disappointments rain has caused me, I cannot seem to feel bad about it but some people obviously do.

I glanced at nearby backpackers and they seemed to be even more agitated as the skies show no proof of clearing up anytime soon. I can understand their disappointment with the travel delays but what can’t they savor the city in the rain?

I was still lost in thoughts when a girl dressed in bohemian skirt approached and asked me if she could share the table. I looked around and saw that every table, except mine was full and I immediately offered her a seat.

Raining in Tsim Tsa Tsui

She was a 19 year-old Israeli named Zivah, which amazingly, meant splendor in Hebrew. She purchased tickets for a bus tour to Ho Chi Minh and then to Luang Prabang in Lao and she was just waiting to be picked up.

I asked her what she thought of the rain, and she frowned. “Rain causes pain and heart aches,” she told me mysteriously. ” Excuse me, what do you mean,” I asked her stupidly and she gave a shrug.

Most travelers, Zivah said, are wandering souls, searching endlessly for someplace where they can feel a sense of belongingness, a place where they can feel truly accepted, wanted and loved.

Of course, they want to see new sights, meet new people and experience new cultures. But deep inside, sometimes, subconsciously, they want to know if that new place can be their home and that new people can be their family.

Rain, she continued, causes these travelers to stop and delay their soul-searching journeys.

Travelers, do not like being stranded, not because they couldn’t enjoy the sights around them but because in times of solitude or in moments when they are stranded, they couldn’t help but look back at their lives so far. Have they accomplished much? Have they made too many mistakes? Is there any hope for redemption?

I looked at Zivah and  I knew that she instantly she was speaking from experience.Curiously I asked why she was too eager to leave. She turned to me and gave a sigh.

All people, not just travelers, feel nostalgic when it rains, she told me. Its just more difficult for travelers who are caught thousands of miles away from both the home they were raised in, and the home they wanted to belong to.

I searched within me and realized that she was right, I was starting to feel nostalgic as rain continues to fall in this tiny strip in central Bangkok. I reflected on my career so far and I knew I still had lots of things to prove. I remembered my family back in Manila and I acknowledged the fact that we were continuously drifting apart.

The rain also made me think of my first ever date in June of 1999. It was also raining and I was sitting inside a car parked inside my university. I was kissing a guy 10 years older than me who promised me that we will be together for a long time. We went out as lovers but after four months, it was over and rains reminded me of the tears I cried over my first heartache.

I would have gone on and on thinking of past memories but the rain, which had been pounding the city for nearly an hour, was starting to break up.

Backpackers around us started to get a move on, carrying their backpacks, walking, and running towards various directions.

Zivah lingered for a few more minutes until her bus towards Vietnam came to pick her up. She gave me a piece of paper bearing her name and email address and we promised to keep in touch. .

The bus driver sped away from the street so fast and I was convinced that his passengers were really in a hurry.

I was finishing my second cup of when it started to rain again. Instead of hurrying back to my hotel room, I decided to stay and enjoy the rain. And the memories started coming back to me.

Take A Peak Into Misibis Bay in Albay

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Unknown to many, there is a place in the province of Albay, that is truly breathtaking, it is too good to be true.

Deep within this lush province, exists Misibis Bay, a luxury hotel that caters to the rich and famous. It is so grand, so lavish that only affluent travelers have seen its beauty.

Hollywood actor Leonardo DiCaprio was reported to have stayed here.

I was given the privilege of visiting it and I wanna share it with you. Take a look at my photos. Enjoy