My love story

Published by Pinay.com

I once met a Spanish dreamer who said that “travel is a love story.”

My husband and I had just arrived at her little rustic inn hidden by trees from the rest of Little Corn Island, and she had asked me what I did for a living.  I told her I was a travel writer which started her waxing poetic. Watching her looking out at the sea, her eyes reflecting the quiet ebbing of the waves, she got me thinking of what we had to go through to get there.

Sitting on the edge of the Caribbean, Little Corn Island is one of Nicaragua’s best kept secrets. To get there, my husband and I had to get on a 10-seater plane from the city of Managua. After lurching and wobbling through the clouds for one and a half hours, it got us to Big Corn Island in one piece.

At Big Corn, a cheerful Creole drove us to the dock where we waited for our boat at a restaurant by the water, observing dark-skinned fishermen clean their catch on the shoreline. We watched the fish being gutted and its blood streaming like a dream into the water. Our ceviche was as fresh as could be.

The boat was larger than our plane, but we were packed like excited sardines baking under the sun. It rocked uncertainly under our weight. When we finally arrived at Little Corn, the journey was far from over. We walked for 30 minutes, dragging our heavy bags along a roughly cleared path through the jungle.  Coconut trees nodded overhead as if to say, “welcome,” but I hardly noticed. I was thirsty, tired, and my shoes were digging blisters on my heels. I wanted to blame my husband for choosing a place so difficult to get to. Instead I bit my lip, because I could hear him cursing under his breath, having to carry my extra load.

 

Read the rest of the story here.

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Postcards from Nirwana (Bintan, Indonesia)

Published by Asian Traveler, 2008

12 May 2008

Dear Editor,

Salamat Datang! After three hours of waiting in the airport, another three hours on the plane, two hours  on the Singapore ferry terminal, and 55 minutes on a high speed catamaran, we are finally here. The weather is scorching hot, and the people’s greeting is just as warm. I’m sipping on a cold glass of sweet red tea that cooled my dry lips and refreshed my weary spirit. I have a feeling that  this is just a taste of what I will experience in the next few days. I will be writing you postcards constantly to update you  and more importantly, make you envious.

Can’t wait to get my feet wet.

Ana

Wish I had brought home this gorgeous Indonesian woodcarving.

3:30 pm, Day 1

I’ve barely unpacked, and  I haven’t even had the time to get used to the dim coolness of my room when the Nirwana staff ushered us excitedly out for the initial tour. I’m writing this right now in a buggy as it cruises through the smooth roads of the Nirwana Gardens resort compound. Driving the golf cart is Ady, the communications manager of the resort. As she drives us through the well manicured lawns and the generous trees, revealing the ponds and fountains, I am beginning  to see why the resort is called paradise. I was told that Nirwana is Sanskrit for paradise.

We’re getting off at the resort’s Thai restaurant. Check with you later.

A.

Haunting.

4:25 pm, Day 1

I hope you’re not working too hard. Summer is eager and waiting. I can feel it as the sun bites on my skin, hungry for a burn. I’ve found a perfect spot here by the spice garden at the foot of Baan Aarya, Nirwana’s Thai restaurant. It has a spacious veranda with wooden floors overlooking the beach. Inside, the feel is warm, elegant, and eclectic.  Rich tones of greens and reds complement the dark hardwood furnishings made even more alive by the golden tinged tableware.  The generous glass windows reveal  coconut trees dancing with the wind outside, looking like live portraits.

From where I am seated, on the grass, by the herb garden where the chefs harvest spices for their Siamese delicacies,  I can see the dark blue waters go on forever until it meets with the open friendly sky. I am surrounded by the smell of chilli, lemongrass, and pandan leaves.

I am getting hungry.

6:30 pm, Day 1

Hello Editor! Dust is starting to settle. I’m  seated by the pond at the entrance of the Nirwana Resort hotel. Large koi fishes  are cavorting in the water. The underwater lights are bouncing off  their colourful bodies, making them look like mystical creatures,  moving around in graceful circles as if participating in a strange ritual.

 

Nirwana is a sprawling 240 resort.

A gong sounded nearby, perhaps announcing the arrival of more tourists. I’m weary to the bone, but my heart overflows with gratitude and anticipation. Before heading back to our place, the Nirwana Resort hotel, we passed by the resort zoo which features several exotic wildlife. The first one to greet us were several albino alligators tanning their white skin. There were also a couple of pythons lazing in the afternoon heat, and a huge vulture watching us warily.

8:00 am, Day 2

It’s day two in paradise. if you’re wondering why I’m writing this on the hotel stationery instead of a postcard, it’s because I got a feeling that this is going to be long one. Through my window, I can see the garden fountain gurgle endlessly. Early this morning, I explored Nirwana by foot, a place “where variety comes to life.” At least that’s  what the resort’s tagline says.

Nirwana Gardens is a sprawling 340 hectare property characterized by five resorts and hotels to cater to every type of guest. “Variety after all is the spice of life,” Nirwana’s general manager proudly explains.  Last night, I had a nice chat with the resort’s general manager, Abdul Wahab, and he told me more about this place over a tall glass of fresh watermelon shake. He had friendly eyes that brought light to his dark face. Smiling, he claimed he was Filipino. However, his thick Singaporean accent easily gave him away.

“Nirwana is a beach holiday resort for families. We are a family resort,” says Abdul. The Nirwana Resort Hotel, where I am staying for a few days, is a 245 room hotel that caters to every budget. Most of the rooms overlook the beach and the infinity pool where the chlorinated water overflows out to the sea (at least that was how it looked from my room). When guests tire of lazing by pool where frog statues spitting water watch over the sun worshippers, they can simply walk to the beach and wash off the chlorine in their hair with the salt water. 

I walked farther, on my bare feet to feel the powdery sand under my feet, and cut through the jungle. After about five minutes, I found myself at the Mayang Sari Beach Resort. The name alludes to the fragrance and essence of natural beauty. Beauty must smell like the sun and the sea and the promises of a ripe summer.

This part of paradise features fifty single-storey air-conditioned chalets with thatched roofs and private verandas. Each chalet has its own unique design, complimented by aromatic scents from lighted  incense to match the mood and theme of the place. Farther ahead is the Indira Maya, the paradise of romance. The exclusive villas boasts of extravagance fit for gods. Overlooking the north-western coast of Bintan, the villas include a private swimming pool, an individual courtyard, an outdoor sunken bath, luxurious furnishings of teak and antique and countless other amenities. 

Heading back, I found myself at the Nirwana Beach Club. This resort is situated on the water’s edge of Bintan.  The club offers accommodations in very reasonable prices, but the rustic huts are in no way cheap. They’re quaint colourful cabanas, complete with amenities, including wireless internet access.

Getting coz with a new friend.

The club is also near the Seasports Centre where windsurfing  and dinghy sailing lessons are offered regularly. Day fishing, kayaking, boogie boarding, snorkelling, waterskiing and wake boarding are also available. As I sat on the hot sand, cooling my toes in the salty water, I watched as the tranquil sea was occasionally disturbed by Banana boats and  jet ski hydrocrosses speeding by.

I was informed that if I got tired of sunbathing (as if that is ever possible), I can go jungle trekking, coastal rock trekking, cycling, rifle shooting or try archery. I thought of how heavy the bow must feel on my sun kissed shoulders and politely declined. They were eager to keep me occupied and persisted with the Sri Bintan Kampong Tour, the Traditional Fishing Tour, the Gunung Bintan Adventure Trek, the South Bintan Heritage Tour, and the Tanjung Uban Explorer. I thought of the mosquito bites versus the feel of the sun biting my shoulder and smiled coyly, shaking my head. “How about Go-Karting, Elephant park, mangrove tour.....” Wait a minute, elephants you say? The thought of Dumbo and his flapping pink ears did it for me. It’s set. Our elephant park tour is scheduled for tomorrow. Those sweet sneaky Indonesians....

I have to go. I can smell the Thai noodles from here. They always serve that on the buffet line for breakfast. Will write to you soon.

1145 pm, Day 3

part of the joys of traveling is making new friends.

Hello Editor,

I gained some new friends today, Emma and Rollie. Rollie likes to dance and play soccer. He’s an attacking midfielder with a powerful kick. He also stinks a little bit, but everybody seems to love him. Emma on the other hand is regal and graceful. She sat quietly, raising her trunk as I sat on her strong leg. Stretching out lazily, she sat on one of her hind legs like a giant walrus lounging on the beach and raised her head high, allowing me to hold on to her one short tusk. Her master said female elephants have short tusks while males have long ones.

 We’ll be doing the mangrove tour after lunch. I’ll write to you again.

A.

Lunch was fantastic. We had crispy baby squid, sprinkled with sesame seeds, laden with barbeque sauce, and nestled on fried spaghetti noodles  shaped like a basket. We also had Gong-gong, sea snails considered to be an aphrodisiac. I didn’t really need to awaken my desires, but I thought I’d try out Bintan’s delicacy. It was tough fishing it out of its shell with a toothpick, but my hard work was rewarded by a soft chewy treat spiked with a dip of chilli and garlic sauce with a splash of lime juice and tomato sauce.

Fish on! fish on!

I am happy to report that I literally fished for lunch. I used this heavy fishnet to catch a feisty black garupa while balancing on a swaying plank by the side of Kelong, the floating restaurant. It was worth risking a cold dip in the water as the steamed dish melted like cream in my mouth. It was cooked in Cantonese sauce, not too salty or spicy as the shy chef, Ken Ow explained.

The crab dish was a sharp contrast to the strong flavours brought about by the black pepper sauce. The tangy flavour was washed down by the fresh watermelon smoothie which wasn’t too sweet. According to the chef, most of the dishes are prepared Cantonese style. This means that the flavours are subtle, not too sweet, spicy or salty. Even their fruit shakes are not dripping with sugar, which was perfect for me.

530pm, Day 3

We set out to the Sungei Sebung Mangrove at exactly 2pm. Apparently everyone is always on time here. Even the shuttle buses and the buggies that drive us around.  

The Bintan Mangrove is not only a popular tourist destination, it’s also a unique ecosystem that serves as coastal protection and provider of   countless raw materials. On our tour, our small but efficient boat sliced through the mercury like brackish water. After two days of sun, sand and sea, the line of endless mangroves on both sides was an interesting break. The sound of the jetty’s motor drowned out the noise of the wild. We sat back relaxed by the droning sound and the still waters.  Occasionally, we would be treated to little surprises like a tree snake coiled around a branch, its yellow striped body standing out in a sea of green leaves.

It was a full day. I’m ready for my spa treatment.

1030pm, Day 4

Like an oasis in the middle of a tropical jungle.

It was drizzling when we headed off to Kedaton Tropical Spa. The light patter of rain blessed our warm skin as we made our way into the spa on a checkered patterned path, where grassy green squares alternated with concrete.

Kedaton is a Javanese term that refers to the dwelling of a queen. How fitting, considering we were treated like no less than royalty. The word Kedaton also suggests “haven” or “new heaven on earth.” The Nirwana Gardens spa is hidden in the heart of a tranquil tropical garden where white blooms hang from a trellis ceiling and  delicate colourful flowers litter the floor.

I was treated to the south seas massage. I drifted into a half sleep, taking in the intoxicating and oddly relaxing scents of oils and flowers, as firm but gentle hands worked through my body, stimulating the circulation of my blood and lymphatic system. 

I am so relaxed. I’ll cut this report short before I doze off. I loathe the packing that I have to do tomorrow.

2:30pM Day 5

Nothing ever good lasts. My brief Sojourn this part of paradise has come to a close. Alas, I have to bid the quiet swaying palm trees farewell. The white plumeria blooms nodded goodbye, but their intoxicating perfume will always haunt me. The hot Bintan breeze will always keep my soul warm. Its heat will constantly remind me, on my cold and dreary days, that there really is such a thing as nirvana, not a fantasy heavenly world, but a paradise of powdery sands, sparkling waters, and welcoming people.

I’ll be seeing you in the next few days. In the meantime, I hope you will start to consider sending me to somewhere colder next time for a change, somewhere where I can wear my trench coat, perhaps?

Warm regards,

Ana Viajera

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Travel, Technology, and the Golden Ticket (Thoughts and Tips on Applying for a U.S. Tourist Visa)

From my Tech Thoughts column in Speed Magazine, 2007

* since this was published years back, certain details (like fees) may no longer be applicable

The 10 year multiple visa that I never get to use anymore since I moved to the States.

I just got a transit visa for my trip to the Republic of the Marshall Islands (RMI) in Micronesia. After queuing for four hours in the embassy, I can’t help but thank the powers that be for technology. If not for the wonders of the electronic appointment system, I would have been watching the sunrise by the Manila Bay while I waited in line with hundreds of other hopefuls. Before the appointment system, my mother lined up for half a day to apply for a visa; she started at the crack of dawn, was done before the sun set, and was  rewarded with a 10 year multiple tourist visa for her valiant efforts. I don’t think I have her willpower.

It’s ironic that to go on a vacation, to leave the concerns of a complex world, I have to go through layers of bureaucracy and stacks of documentation. To feel the powdery sands between my toes and allow the whispers of the tide to ease away the stresses of the modern world, I have to have immunization shots, line up at the embassy, accomplish application forms, book flights, clear up my schedule, endure an overnight flight, pass through several x-ray systems, CT scanners and metal detectors, and take off my shoes even before I get to the beach.

All the hoops I had to go through just to go sailing and sun burnt!

Continental Airlines, the only airline that flies to the RMI, changes planes in Guam, a U.S. territory. To be granted entry to their airport, to use their restroom, to grab a burger and to park my derriere on one of their chairs while I wait for Continental to change planes, I have to obtain a U.S. transit visa on top of my RMI visa. It wouldn’t have been too much trouble except that to get a transit visa, I had to go through the same process of applying for a tourist visa. That meant facing that one stranger that could change the direction of my flight. Fortunately, my recent interview was uneventful.

The interrogating consul inside the glass aquarium was an indifferent but efficient lady. She politely asked several curt questions answerable by monosyllables. Frankly, I wasn’t sure if she was asking or merely thinking aloud:

“You’ve been to the States before./?”

“Yes.”

“You’re requesting for a transit visa./?”

“Yes.”

“Your brother is a U.S. Citizen./?”

“Yes.”

A rustle of papers. The click-clack of the keyboard. Then, “take this to the courier.” She shoved the highly coveted piece of paper through a small opening on the glass partition and without another word, my interview was done. She didn’t even bother to look at my papers. It took me over a month to get all my documents in order: bank statements, certification from editors, school papers, car registration, etc. All that hard work for nothing. I had a ready spiel on how I need to come back because I’m completing my novel for my thesis or how passionate I am about my work here, but it wasn’t the time nor the place for idle chatter.

THE golden ticket that will allow you access to almost anywhere in the world..almost.

Who cares? I got the golden ticket. It was a 1/4^th sheet of yellow paper that heralded my trustworthiness. It took every ounce of control not to wave the paper in the air for the world to see. As I watched the others walk out with their heads down, hands empty, I pondered on this phenomenon. Year after year, thousands get turned down. Some of them walk out defeated, because they are made to feel unworthy to walk on sacred soil so fertile that it flows of milk and honey. Yet, year after year they trod on, reduced to numbers (“3208 to window ten, please”), forking out a hundred dollars for an application that they themselves printed, suffering the humiliation of being finger-scanned like criminals, herded by Filipino attendants who carry on like they’re better than because they work for the American embassy, ordered to wait in long lines, leave their mobile phones, stand up, sit down, hush.

Some of my travel buddies are afraid to apply for a visa for fear of being denied,

and to think one of them already had a multiple visa before!

Who am I to complain when I was just granted a visa? Who am I to criticize when just like many, I too enjoy and benefit from the inventions of American  geniuses like Alexander Graham Bell, Bill Gates, and Ralph Lauren? What right do I have to gripe when I sometimes still long for the electric air of the Big Apple? Who am I to protest my four hours of waiting when over a decade ago, people lined up 48 hours in advance?

Fortunately, with technology taking over the appointment systems, the long lines had been cut to more than half. Interview appointments are set either through phone or online (http://manila.usembassy.gov). The former costs fifty pesos a minute (don’t get me started on the rate) but you get personalized service through a Filipino operator who will tell you what to do and what not to do like not mixing up your appointed time (which I of course did) lest you wait another two weeks for the reschedule. Beforehand, you must pay the application fee of a hundred dollars at an accredited bank.

In MY airline, I won't require a golden ticket!

A more convenient option is the online reservation which will cost ten dollars extra for a VisaPoint PIN. The VisaPoint is a web-based information and appointment system that allows you to view information on nonimmigrant visas, pay for your application through a credit card, and schedule an appointment by choosing from available dates and times.

Application forms are now printed from the site. Answers must be keyed in before the form can be printed, eliminating errors and illegible handwriting. Adobe Acrobat Reader version 5.0 or higher is required to download the form.  The site also prompts for invalid entries, so you are sure that you are typing in the correct entries. A barcode, containing all the information you entered, is printed on the application form. Conveniently, the system allows you to generate copies for Family Duplicates.

My Choice. My Airline.

Online technology has made traveling more convenient in other ways. To purchase tickets, there is no need to step out of the house. The International Air Transport Association has committed to 100% e-ticketing this year. It’s easier to check for availability, pass miles and flight status. If they can work on a video conference interview with the embassy then we don’t even have to leave the house until our departure date. But with the way things are going, travel may soon become virtual. To explore the Old Quarter of Hanoi or the overgrown Japanese hospital of Roi Namur in RMI, I may no longer need to step out of the confines of my room. How’s that for travel convenience?

Why bother? The goal is to collect as many stamps as possible.

I don’t know about you, but I still relish the feel of the sun on my bare back and never tire of the joys of hoarding complementary airline toothbrushes in spite of the long lines and overweight fees. This reminds me, I gotta go pack my sunblock.

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