26 Jun Taytay Bay: An Authentic Experience
“Authentic experience.”
Those were among the words our tour operator used to distinguish Taytay Bay island-hopping over the far more popular tour offerings at El Nido, the widely known tourism hub on the north end of Palawan in the Philippines. The description struck me as particularly accurate when our entire group – guests, crew, and even the island caretaker – stood knee-deep in outgoing tide, all of us shoving and pulling a boat obstinately stuck in the sand. Very authentic indeed.
Low tide, we were reassured, was only 30 minutes away. I refrained from pointing out that that meant another half hour for our boat to become even more stranded before the water began moving in the direction of our favor. Had our captain really paid so little heed to the tides? It seemed inconceivable to me and my fellow Western travelers that a captain, a man whose livelihood depended on transporting clients in boats, could allow his vessel to become so thoroughly beached. Then again, all of us travelers had previously spent a decade or so each living in the Philippines; and, if there was one lesson we’d all learned in that time, it was that things in the Philippines rarely operated as we might expect.
This trend had begun early in the morning when the drive from Sabang to Taytay, one we’d been reassured was roughly two hours, had been closer to five hours by the time we finally pulled into town. Nonetheless, our crew was ready and waiting – sunny and gushing with enthusiasm despite our tardiness. Unfortunately, the weather was rather less sunny. We arrived at what was to be our first island rather jostled and somewhat drenched.
The day’s agenda had been vague and we had few expectations, but shifting instructions as we approached shore left us feeling as tossed about as we had been on the voyage. Eventually, we understood that there would be a hike, a snorkel, and kayaking at some point. After much arranging and rearranging of gear, our small expedition embarked. We waded along a rocky shoreline, under limestone arches and through caves to a place our guide called the lagoon – a deep pool of water separated from the sea by cliff formations. Our guide insisted it was a favored swim of clients past, but the waters appeared too dark and lifeless to inspire our snorkeling interest.
Disappointed but undeterred by our lackluster performance, our guide led us into the sapphire sea where a full-blown reef thrived mere feet offshore. Christmas tree snails spiraled up from colorful corals, giant clams decorated sandy bottom, clownfish flirted along the edges of their anemone havens, and a rainbow assortment of other fish schooled through the scene. It was spectacular, but brief – our guide rushing us past the splendor to some agenda yet unbeknownst to us.
We’d barely shed our masks and fins when paddles were thrust our way. The kayaks sat at the ready and this was apparently the time. But we could smell lunch on its way and what we really wanted was a chance to warm up while exploring this inviting beach we had all to ourselves. Wasn’t this solo experience part of why we were here rather than El Nido? I dredged up my 30-year-old-childhood Tagalog to convey this point and we gained half an hour or so to explore in peace.
Lunch was idyllic. We sat in the breezeway of a limestone arch shaded by jungle before a table literally overflowing with platters of fresh seafood, whole grilled fish, chicken, pork, fried lumpia, assorted salads, mangoes, bananas, and more. We stuffed ourselves and still the table held a feast fit for royalty, all the more impressive given it had been prepared over open fire. A nap seemed the fitting next step so no one was upset when one of our guides suggested staying here instead of continuing to another island – the captain declared that the winds would settle later, making a more pleasant return to Taytay at the end of the day.
“Would we like to kayak?” Not yet.
“Tour of bird nest soup caves?” This caught my attention.
I’d visited a swiftlet cave in Borneo many years prior where the birds’ hardened saliva nests were being harvested to appease the Chinese soup market, but the cave had been huge and dark offering only flitting, distant views of shadow birds and none of the nests. Perhaps I’d have a greater chance of seeing them here among these smaller, more intimate limestone spires.
Now that I’d exposed my rusty Tagalog, our guide spoke nearly exclusively in her rapid-fire native tongue as we picked our way down the beach. My understanding was limited as we tucked into one darkened space after another, seeing birds spiraling about the entrances and signs of nests within but nothing definitive. Our guide talked the island caretaker, a man tasked with guarding these coveted nests, into showing us a piece of the expensive commodity. She handed around a sliver of nest, a one-inch section reminiscent of thinly woven strands of clear plastic that she claimed would fetch thousands of dollars on the market. Shocking.
We’d barely returned the valuable piece of nest when we were once again urged to kayak. It was getting late and we were concerned about making it back to our driver on time for what we now understood would be a 5-hour drive home, but it seemed kayaking was non-negotiable. Two of us agreed to a short kayak on behalf of the group. It was lovely and we would have happily paddled longer; had we not been concerned about our daunting trek home.
“That was too short!” We were informed upon our return.
“Why not kayak longer? How about another snorkel?” Options seemed to abound.
I had the feeling our crew was stalling.
“This has all been so lovely,” we replied, “but we have a long drive ahead. We’d like to head back.”
“But the boat isn’t ready!” our guide responded.
“That’s ok,” we said, “We’ll get our stuff packed so we’re ready to go as soon as the boat is.”
There was high-pitched chatter, nervous laughter, lots of scurrying about the beach, and finally the crew attempted to shove the boat deeper into the water. This was when it became clear that the boat was stuck and probably had been since it was first suggested that we stay here rather than continue island-hopping.
This seemed incomprehensible. How could they let us get stuck? How could there be no back-up plan? And yet no one in our group was particularly surprised as the reality of the situation dawned on us.
Hadn’t we all experienced the “go with the flow” culture so prevalent in the Philippines? Hadn’t we all been in scenarios where a trust-that-things-will-work-out attitude prevailed over precautionary actions? And when things didn’t work out, hadn’t we all experienced the Filipino tendency to laugh and attempt to make lemonade approach? With a clarity gained only from cultural and age distance, I realized that I’d assimilated some of these characteristics. It was these traits that had enabled me to travel around the world in the years I spent searching for life-answers after graduate school.
It was fitting that after much digging, pushing, and pulling, we finally dislodged the boat into the sea to joyous applause, only to nearly lose it because the boat’s tethers had been prematurely released. There was more nervous laughter and another frantic scramble, but ultimately the boat was rescued. We motored toward a beautiful sunset as we approached Taytay where our driver waited unperturbed by the delay. I was reminded that my own lack of planning during those years of travel had unanchored me as well, but in the end it led me to where I am today – exactly where I want to be. Perhaps we all need reminded once in a while that there are many approaches to life and to be grateful when we find one that works authentically.
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