heartshape

Cruising through Iloilo

The roughly triangular shaped island of Panay is home to several encounters worth a thousand treasures to thrill seekers and soul searchers alike. Any of the four provinces (Aklan, Antique, Capiz, Iloilo) composing the island boasts of beautiful beaches and lively fiestas with welcoming aura more than matching its intriguing history and penchant for celebrations. Once the seat of the Philippine government under the Spaniards, it showcases a heterogeneous breed of tradition, culture, and personality.

As the jump-off point to other major marvels of the island, the province of Iloilo is unmistakably vast, still full of untapped resources and unfilled spaces real estate investors would die to acquire. It is a vibrant community in its own right, with a huge super mall commanding the city center and a number of high rise structures towering over other commercial establishments on promising sites.

I came there expecting to see a bustling cityscape but was more amazed than disappointed to see a sprawling simplicity instead of the crowded metropolis similar to that of Cebu. Iloilo City was one of the key cities in the Visayas but instead of the usual ruckus expected of urban areas, the smooth and uncomplicated exchange of everyday transactions was evident from afar.

Cruising along the streets was made swift by wide accessible roads, and the clean surroundings more than made up for old structures lining the highways. On top of the many schools I’ve observed, old churches flaunting their intricate Spanish architecture graced every corner while historical mansions belonging to the prominent families of the province stood proudly amid its laidback modernity.

The influence of colonial Spain doesn’t end there. Luring visitors every fourth week of January is its famous Dinagyang Festival, the city’s own version of the Ati-atihan commemorating the Christianization of the natives with a very colourful parade of participants dancing to the distinctive “Hala bira!” chants.

While huge banking and commercial institutions dominated the spacious inner city, numerous rice paddies and cornfields constituting the bulk of Panay’s agricultural provisions extended into the outskirts of Iloilo. As the Philippines’ third largest source of rice, Panay was recently considered as a back up provider should Region 3 fall short of supplying the entire country’s demand for it.

As a testament to the province’s suitable site for agricultural development, a 10-hectare model farm in one of our main stops in the town of Guimbal granted us access to zero-waste environment-friendly approaches to horticulture. Garin Farm was a microcosm of the entire rural Panay in itself.

Inside the seemingly theme park inspired farm where each element of agriculture had a spot, the area was precisely divided for livestock (cows, water buffalos, chickens, and pigs, among others were fenced accordingly), fruit trees (each having their own patch), vegetables beds, and dairy products processing plant, among others. Equipped with a canteen, horse riding facilities, and cottages for overnight guests, it was almost an Agriculture Museum than a mere farm. The improvised garden made from reused backyard items such as rubber tires and plastic containers was easily my favorite.

By the time we got to Racso’s Woodland, yet another resort – this time with a mini-zoo and shooting range – where we were to spend the night, the last of Garin Farm that I could remember was eating the best ice cream bar I’ve ever tasted.

Boracay Baby

Excited chatters marked the second day of the trip and aiming to reach Caticlan-Boracay by noon, we were well on the way by 6:30, unusually early for usually late risers but predictably so because our next destination was the most anticipated. As our vans speeded along the Antique-Aklan road, counting bridges and admiring the scenery, rural fields spanned majestically, sharing the landscape with the looming mountains on the background and the clear sea on the other side.

The sun was intensely searing by the time we got ready to board the Boracay-bound ferry from Caticlan’s jetty port. And after 6 hours on the van, nothing excited me more than exploring the 7-km stretch of Boracay’s white sand beach.

One of the pillars of the Philippine tourism industry, Boracay was home to what was once acclaimed as the best beach in the world. It boasts of around 300,000 tourists on the average and the versatile events held during peak seasons. It was segmented into 3 stations, understandably so to cater to different classes of tourists. While the third station was good enough for individuals on a tight budget and the second for groups willing to shell out a few extra dollars, the first station with its extensive shoreline and internationally recognized hotels like the Regency and Mandarin was where opulent celebrities and foreigners and members of the upper echelon unwind.

The pristine waters of Boracay and everything that goes with the name was one of the reasons why many Economics 56 students joined the field trip. After checking in and eating our lunch at Station 3’s Queen’s Beach Resort, we attended a brief lecture on Boracay and the country’s tourism industry. I was surprised that with all the publicity the island’s been acquiring, it was second only to Cebu in terms of the number of tourists, and was even at par with other world-class resorts in Palawan and Mindoro. It made me realize that perhaps the island generating revenues for the province of Aklan was more a brand than an escape.

What attracted me to the island in the first place: the white sand beach, clear immaculate waters, or bragging rights? As we leisurely ambled along the beach, we noticed that the establishments seemingly progress with the change in stations, not to mention the quality of sand. Where station 3’s sand quality compared to that of Siquijor, station 1’s was as fine as flour! So fine and famous that a Php25,000 penalty was purportedly imposed to those caught “smuggling” sand out of the island.

Indeed, there wasn’t anything magical about Boracay, only a long established reputation as a haven for tourists. While Frisbee and water sports enthusiasts find Boracay a blissful respite from urban complexities, I’d probably be bored (not to mention broke) after spending a week or two in the island. I wish we could’ve stayed longer though, not because I couldn’t get enough of the sea but for sheer desire to explore the entire island. The lecturer mentioned the high migration cases from the mainland to Boracay due to promising job opportunities and I thought it would’ve been more satisfying to assess the employment situation for myself.

Apparently, the contrasting features outside the resorts should be enough to bother the tourism authorities. On one side was a high-profile mansion owned by a public official while across from it are rundown shacks owned by locals, the island was teeming with business establishments – hotels, shopping centers, bars, and restaurants – owned by no less than outside investors. The locals benefit from the tourism industry as mere employees. Surely, they get the opportunity to bask in the sun and enjoy the same quality of water and sand tourists go to Boracay for but are they given equal chances of enjoying the amenities offered by international resort-hotels? Absolutely not if they belong to the lower sectors of Boracay society. Doesn’t it bother the authorities that most islanders couldn’t even enjoy the entire island as consumers and not mere spectators and workers of wealthy tourists? It’s almost like a factory whose workers couldn’t even afford to buy the products of their labor.

My hours spent in Boracay would’ve been unremarkable if Cyril Patriarca and I hadn’t come across a Thai lady while night swimming in front of the Regency. She introduced herself as Anna, a petite 27-year-old first time tourist vacationing with her American boyfriend. We were well beyond basic introductions and talking about the similarities of our nations when I realized our foreign friend was drunk. Apparently, she had a fight (bordering on racial dispute) with her boyfriend whom she described as “someone who thinks Americans are superior to Asians.” In hopes of comforting a possibly suicidal tourist, we accompanied and listened to her rant about her encounters with foreign men and the injustices of being helpless. It made me sympathize with her and other Filipino women under similar circumstances whose plight to raise their family’s condition of living is yet to be accepted by society.

I felt relieved that instead of some beach bum who might take advantage of the situation (case in point, she was showing off a few thousand peso bills enough for the whole Boracay to come running toward her), we were the ones who found her. My fun memories of Boracay ended with us taking Anna to her new hotel room (away from Regency) and waiting for her to call it a night. We refused the money she offered but accepted her gratitude, which was worth a thousand times more than paper bills.