Escape to Siquijor

We were on our way back to the resort when I saw an old woman walking straight toward us. Weathered by age, she had streaks of wrinkles all over her face.

But it wasn’t her profile which impressed me—it was her eyes. They were as bright as saucers and they were staring right at us. Her gaze was so piercingly intent that, hastily, I looked away. We were in Siquijor after all.
 

Located in the heart of Central Visayas, the island province of Siquijor has always been shrouded with a bit of mystery. It is here where folks are said to practice sorcery and witchcraft; their brews and spells able to cast pain or pleasure on unknowing targets.

Before we even reached its shores, I was given all sorts of warnings: don’t look anybody straight in the eye. Don’t be too loud. Don’t call attention to yourself. And if somebody taps you on the shoulder, be sure to tap him right back. Despite all forewarnings, however, my stay in Siquijor proved be a very pleasant.

 

We stayed at Coco Grove Beach Resort, a veritable slice of tropical heaven in San Juan. Getting there was already an adventure. We took the first plane out of Manila to Dumaguete, caught the ferry from Dumaguete to Siquijor, and then hopped on an airconditioned jeepney, which took us to the resort.

 

While Coco Grove already has an 800-meter stretch of beach, it’s got a lot of other facilities for the excited traveler to relish and enjoy—swimming pools, garden bars, a game room, and a wellness spa. But really, it doesn’t take much to make me happy—just give me a stretch of sand, a ray of sunshine, a bottle of beer and I’m all right. It’s no wonder, then, that my favorite spot after the beach is the pool bar, where we were able to swim a couple of laps between glasses of beer and cocktails.

 

But we didn’t stay at the resort for long; there was much to be discovered outside this tropical hideaway. There is, for example, a very, very old Balete Tree in Compalanas, Lazi with a cool, natural pool by its roots. The enterprising folks who live nearby took it upon themselves to fill up the pool with tiny little fishes (the ones which nibble on dead skin), making this supposedly enchanted spot a foot spa of sorts. It is kind of creepy, though, to have your feet pounced on by schools of fishes while a group of schoolchildren eat their sandwiches under the Balete’s towering branches.

 

The water adventure which I preferred was our exhilarating jaunt at Cambughay Falls, also at Lazi. Though you’d have to walk about a hundred steps down to finally set your sight on these falls, the exercise is well worth it. Cambughay features three waterfalls, one gushing onto the other. The waters are deep at the topmost pool—we did not dare swim in it. It was in the middle pool where we spent precious moments swimming around, allowing ourselves to be rejuvenated by the cool waters. We also dared to sit below one of the falls, getting ourselves instant back massages.

By the pool at the base of the falls, a couple of teenagers have tied a rope on one of the tree branches so that you can launch yourself into the waters by making like Tarzan. My friends tried it, and they tell me that it was a totally refreshing experience. And while I am not faint of heart, I didn’t dare jump in: I was worried that I’d sprain my shoulders by hanging and swinging off the rope!

 

As with most travel sorties, there was much eating to be done. We wolfed down piping hot pan de coco in the town of Enrique. That it had freshly made bukayo inside only added to its sumptuousness.

In Tubod, Chekesh BBQ Restaurant was our second home as we chowed down on grilled pork chops, chicken barbeque, chopsuey, and monggo. The prices are oh-so-affordable; P100 will have you eating like a king!

But the meal which I would soon not forget is the lunch that we had at Mama Nitz’s. A beloved relative of one of our companions, she insisted that we dine at her home. To refuse would be unthinkable, and frankly, would have been regrettable as Mama Nitz spread out a virtual feast: bowls of paklay (the Siquijor take on the papaitan) and dinuguan, plates of chopsuey, picadillo, and tocino, and a huge platter of just-cooked rice.

As we ate, Mama Nitz regaled us with tales of years gone by. We listened with glee, careful not to eat too quickly as each dish was lovingly prepared, and utterly delicious.

It was one of the most memorable meals I’ve ever had. — VC, GMA News