Germany Road Trip

I agreed to get away with a bunch of complete strangers save for Lily, an Indonesian I met once while attending Crossroads. She, her friends (Irma and Loe, Indonesians also) and Danny (Irma’s Dutch friend) were scheduled on a road trip to nearby German cities during the weekend. I had to decide to trade picnic with Pinoy friends we planned just the day before with this last-minute temptation almost right away which had to disappoint them—Pinoy friends. And so we hit the road less than 24 hours later. From Amsterdam, it took more than an hour to get to see cars with Ds printed on their plates this time, “careful-of-crossing-animals” signs, tree-lined highway and picturesque countryside—hints you’re in Germany already. Though a handful of Ferrari’s, Maserati’s, and Porsche’s made us eat their hydrocarbon and carbon monoxide emissions, our travel time was even shorter than we and the navigator had estimated. Thanks to our relatively aggressive driver from time to time breaking traffic rules—you’d hear him say often “Nobody saw that!”. Cologne—home to the impressive gothic church, the DOM, whose claim to fame’s its elaborate architecture, enormous scale and the fact that it took almost forever for it to be completed—was our first stop. Swarmed with tourists and a seemingly young populace, the city’s alive even at wee hours of the night. Around the DOM on a breezy summer Friday evening around 10pm, you’d see groups of undisruptive drunk young men and women gaily bantering and singing while greeting passersby and onlookers with accommodating smiles. This is alongside many tourists sporadically wearing a cheese smile and sporting the peace sign, couples settled everywhere or walking holding each other’s hands, groups of mostly young backpackers of varying nationalities (sounding like speaking in tongue) and everyone else—Cologners and not. And around this time, there were still a lot of restaurants open. An eat-all-you-can restaurant—quite a walk from the Dom—serving delectable wide-ranging Asian dishes provided us with something for digestion that night. I had some lumpia and bami cooked in the same fashion as our pancit with vegetables and chicken.

At past midnight, along the streets of I-don’t-recall-anymore-what, you’d see students, office people and everyone else either young or young-at-heart lining up at club entrances. From jazz to hip-hop, Western to Mediterranean, there’s plenty to choose from. Though jazz was what had gotten my groove on, it was hip-hop that got me moving and moving all night long—or maybe just until 4am when we already had to have McDonald’s which sold Quarter Pounder 20 Euro cents cheaper than in Amsterdam. Sleep was quick for by 10 in the morning, we were already traversing the lengths of the vehicle-free, abundantly peopled streets not far from the Dom going in the direction of yet another eat-all-you-can restaurant. This time, a Chinese restaurant inside a shopping mall half the size of SM Makati (or Amsterdam’s de Bijenhof) serving again wide-ranging and of course unlimited dishes. I only ate a little—a little bit of everything served, that is. Moments later, we were at the train station and in two minds—Bonn or Düsseldorf? The train was jam-packed but still had enough seats for every paying passenger but not for the luggage of some Chinese occupying three others. Diplomacy paved the way to freeing two seats for us leading to an interesting talk with this guy yet in his 20s but already on his way to getting a PhD. We got off at a Bonn station and as the train signaled to leave, we hurriedly boarded back thinking of Koblenz instead.

A beautiful small city and just like Cologne, Koblenz is along the mighty river Rhine. We were greeted by tempting large slices of pizza inside the station an escalator and steps away from the platform and by a helpful single old lady enthusiastic about telling us what to do and where to go though with a big sigh for we came on not so sunny a day and Saturday at that. Save for the apparent tourists mostly aged, the city was sparsely peopled—it’s a Saturday after all—bringing off a tranquil feel you’d want to buy your retirement home here. A walk to the river showed a number of striking buildings adorned with interesting details, flowered balconies and lines of houses screaming affluence. By the river, two big river cruise boats laid in wait with a long queue of eager aged (perhaps war veterans) passengers. On the other not-so-distant side of the river Rhine, beautiful blocks of buildings, houses and what-have-you’s—of white and other earthy colors—rise. A walk back to the train station revealed a strikingly very old walled castle on top of a hill just meters away from the station. This, we climbed up to see no more as we had to head to Dusseldorf. Missing the connecting stop for Dusseldorf, we headed back to Cologne instead.

Tired of eat-all-you-can’s, we sampled German sausages, some Turkish fast food with something close to “home”—fries—by the narrow webbed streets near the River Rhine. We lazily spent not so short a time sitting on the benches along the paved trail by the river where bikers, strollers, and hikers passed by. Despite the jolly jeers and cheers of already dancing drunks just nearby, sitting there was very relaxing. Until it was time to head back to the hotel. No clubbing that night, which disappointed the girls. The following day was either Bonn or Dusseldorf. My asking “we're going to Bonn?” woke them all up. So Bonn was it. I decided.

Almost a ghost town, Bonn on a Sunday almost noontime was sparingly peopled. We just walked and walked, ate sandwich then walked and walked yet again until we came across an Indonesian woman. With her were her two sons—the older one was the one who overheard the girls talking in Bahasa. We were invited to their house for a tea and there we spent the remainder of our time before driving back to Holland.

Germany I must say is an all-over beautiful, clean country having surprisingly a lot to offer. I wasn’t disappointed.

A Hundred Things to Share

Days before Friday were full of excitement in anticipation of the outdoor adventure at the Hundred Islands National Park in Pangasinan. I prepared a checklist of camping and beach essentials and off I went to the nearest mall the day before the departure. It didn’t take long before I could have all items on the list ticked. Two great buys I was so happy about were the China-made tent costing just one grand (can accommodate two) and a hundred-peso led flashlight that later proved efficient being reliable.

Coming from a shift, I had a couple of hours to pack up before I headed towards the meeting place Friday morning. What was an agreed upon 10am sharp departure became two hours late. Good thing, the bus was comfortable I could rest well for the entire long trip, I thought. But rest I didn’t as I couldn’t—at least for the first couple of hours. Thanks to our resident clown who didn’t fail to crack us up showing no signs of stopping. It was after all a reunion of some sort of wacky college friends—he came prepared. After more than five hours being on the road just laughing, dozing from time to time and listening to the music of some Bob Marley mimics, we finally arrived at Alaminos City—a relatively thickly populated slope-py town, home of the Hundred Islands.

As the others started to stack our victuals for the next two days from Alaminos’ wet market, our bus parked in front of Nepo Mart—Alaminos’ response to Pasay’s Mall of Asia. While waiting for everyone to take in the sails, vendors of local delicacies swarmed the premises hoping to make a sale. Finally after more than 30 minutes of waiting, the tires began to roll—we were now seaport bound. It was almost sunset when we got there. Two motor boats had been lying in wait for us to embark and place our load on. As a compromise was finally reached that put a stop to the becoming prolonged negotiations with the boatmen who now demanded a bigger charge than what was previously agreed upon, the boat engines were at last started. The boat ride to the islands wasn’t bouncy, the sea being almost tranquil. Darkness starting to thicken, only outlines of the islands and islets were visible from afar. After more than 30 minutes, we finally landed on the shores of Quezon Island—three limestone islets joined by a white sand plane and a wooden bridge—where we intended to camp out in the next two days. Even though it was dark already, it was clear the sand was yellowish white.

There were structures built on the rocky islands for rent—relatively cheap. This we gathered is the only island visitors are allowed to spend the night on. While others were busy preparing our meal for the night, we excitedly raised our tents—where we made our beds on—against the strong winds. After a mouthwatering meal, we decided to retire for the night. Alas, the rain started to pour coupled with strong winds—all the tents but mine failed to stand it all. But as sprinkles of rain water now started to get inside my tent—last tent standing, I decided to join the others making beds on the tables inside the cottages. A thick jacket and two blankets kept me warm guaranteeing a relatively sound sleep through the cold and windy night.

Much stronger winds and a sky with thickening dark clouds greeted our second day at the island. One side of the island presented a view of troubled waters. The other side, in contrast, still showed almost still waters. With the light of day, the island’s splendor became evident—almost white sand, relatively clear greenish waters. But I had to concur with an observation that it wasn’t as majestic as any other beaches in the country. But well, it was high tide. Much of the white sand shoreline was submerged. A storm was approaching so the waters weren’t so pellucid. But its seclusion and the feeling that you own the island made it all thrilling.

It was when we were busy preparing our breakfast when the beans were spilled to us—a strong storm was coming so we had to head back to the mainland by 10am; island hopping had to be cancelled. So immediately after again a delectable meal, and knowing we only had just a little more than two hours left at the island, we rushed to the beach and enjoyed the wavy warm water. We then transferred to the other side of the island and sat by the wooden bridge letting the much stronger waves repeatedly whip us. Masochistically enjoyable!

Until we had to leave. Three motor boats arrived at 10 almost precisely. In no time, everyone was on board. Our journey back to the mainland was anything but safe. Big strong winds brought about huge waves—thumping and lifting to some feet high our seemingly flimsy boats. Now that’s enjoyable. Not! Splatters of brine and showers of the rain from all directions got us all soaked. The roaring sea calmed down as we entered the passage bordered by some bigger islands and some smaller ones. The thumping resumed as we sailed past the still waters. We held onto both sides of the boat and started clinging to—not wearing—some life vests. After minutes of this perilous ride and dread uncertain if we’re gonna make it alive to the mainland, we were finally almost on shore. The now readable sign “The Last Resort” guaranteed us of a safe return.

We headed straight to an inn (see contact details at the end of this blog entry) where we got a shower and had a tasty meal. Here we learned a room, good for four already, costs just PhP1,200-1,400. And that they offer an island hopping tour package for less than PhP1,500/day/boat (maximum of 14 persons). On a sunny day sometime soon, we agreed to try that instead.

We thought we experienced the worst already. Not until we experienced Cosme wreaking havoc while spending the night at a resort—which we thought was safe for us to spend the night on—in Dansol, Pangasinan. The picture you see, doesn't seem to give justice to the mayhem we experienced/witnessed. What an experience! Now beat that!

SWEET HONEY HOTEL

(Bayside) 100 Islands

Lucap Boulevard, Alaminos City 2404

Pangasinan

Tel No.: (075) 551-2800

Mobile: 09279223498

The Daraitan Experience

It was a last-minute decision to join this nature adventure organized by a college schoolmate. It was the hyped spelunking that had me persuaded to trade my regular weekend dates with Ayn Rand for it. I didn’t have high hopes expecting just another okay nature encounter. Not to mention, I hadn’t really heard much about the place until it was introduced to me. Lo and behold, it was an experience of a lifetime!

Getting There
A rented rolling coffin we call jeepney brought us to Daraitan, a sparsely populated barrio nestled within Sierra Madre in Tanay, Rizal. The trip was for roughly three hours via a cemented road, with some rough roads after entering the access road to Daraitan. We stopped at a rural community at the slopes bordering a river surrounded by mountain ranges covered with lush and almost virgin forest. We were greeted by a relatively pristine river so tempting—others couldn’t wait until we could settle down and quickly took a dip in the river. There were cottages along the riverbanks, which I gathered get fully occupied on Sundays with the influx of visitors from the surrounding areas. A pre-arrangement secured us of a not-so-comfortable house to stay—no electricity and with just the free-flowing bukal as the source of water. We had to bring two big containers of mineral water for drinking. A group of mountaineers had set up tents camping out nearby.

Initial Impression

Immediately after a scrumptious meal, we started to get ready for a dip to this natural stream of water. I wasn’t really wowed to be honest. There were parts of the river that have floating mosses. There were areas wherein as you dip into, water current would pick up soil particles. The better parts were those that have pebbles on the riverbed. Essentially, it’s still amazing not having to see too many water systems this clean. I’d settle for this, I thought.

During the night surprisingly, we didn’t have even just one mosquito bite—as far as I was concerned. The night was lovely with the pale moonlight, silent—aside from the crickets chirping and the belting Daraitan singing champion monopolizing the Magic Sing—and breezy. Yet retiring for the night and getting to sleep wasn’t a breeze for everyone. Thanks to the hard floor where we made our beds on.

Detox

Although everyone woke up with an aching back and still a bit groggy, excitement was evident in anticipation of the spelunking—should’ve been. On foot, we headed towards the site of the caves traversing the varying tracks. As we went along the lengths, highs and lows of the sometimes sandy, sometimes muddy and sometimes rocky trail we couldn’t help but wonder at the sights so spectacular. The halted mining operation back in the 80s (we gathered) left boulders of limestone creating an organized chaos feel to it. The sights we passed through were good enough for us to settle anew and start swimming. The river here’s relatively shallow with some deeper portions and comprised of sand, limestone and rocks. Mainly, the river was green—now that’s tempting. But the constant assurance of our guide that there are still better sights to behold, kept us going and going. Along the way, we came across a group of mountaineers who camped their night out the wilderness. Here we gathered, it’s safe (relatively) to stay overnight as there are tanods roaming around even at the wee hours of the night. Sometime soon, that’s what we intend to do.

So after more than 30 minutes of trekking, river-crossing, boulder climbing, we finally reached our destination—the caves. Alas indeed, the far more interesting caves—particularly this one cave with a huge puddle inside—weren’t accessible without rock climbing gear. So we settled for the accessible smaller ones, which were just a few meters long and less spacious. Nevertheless, the caves were still sights to behold. Though mostly dead-ends, the ends of the tunnels we crawled into still had connecting smaller tunnels but not one brave soul dared to try exploring the unknown. These were the dead ones. There was one where cold water was flowing out from—relatively safe water you can drink. This cave having a creepy ambience to it with the sound of water dripping and other strange ones, not to mention our lone source of light not working anymore, we only advanced a few meters from the cave entrance.

The best part of this spot here was the much clearer and fresher portion of the river you could visibly see pebbles on the river bed—really worth the long strenuous walk/climb. Big boulders of limestone in different shapes and sizes randomly placed on the river emerged charming. Here, we stayed for hours swimming, whirling, playing, just feeling the water—allowing it to wash away our stresses. That, the soothing sound of the moving water and the chirping of the birds created a perfect setting for de-stressing. The whole experience is beyond words.

Going Home

Along with some mountaineers whom we made friends with, we headed back home 4pm aboard a jeepney going to Tanay—passing by every after two hours only—with big plans of coming back. Amid the towering stacks of sacks of rice and crates of veggies, passengers wrapped up inside blankets battling for an ample space for their butts and the noisy fowls tied around sticks that we had to deal with, we busied our minds with what was an inexpensive yet memorable experience worth many more revisits sometime soon.

Getting There:
Take the Manila-Tanay route. Daraitan is the same road going to Daranak and Camp Capinpin in Sampaloc, Tanay. Just ask for directions.