Sunday, 30th October 2022. We were supposed to have left the island already yesterday but remnants of Typhoon Paeng still lingered in the air. Although the waves have settled into gentle laps on the shore, the chilly winds continued to blow the tops of the coconut palms. The vague clouds were still spitting rain.

News of the travel ban being lifted also lifted our spirits as the sun slowly broke through the greyness of this paradise. We heard from the resort staff that some of their guests immediately jumped on the opportunity to get on the first boat that was to set sail to Cebu, in case the maritime authorities changed their minds and cancel the trips again.

Meanwhile, there was us who decided to take our chances (again) and explore the island a bit before heading back home.

The sun was out and we were there already anyway.

So was the tricycle driver parked outside Mangodlong Paradise Beach Resort ready to give tourists a ride.

Oh, yeah, we relocated to the resort next door from Mangodlong Rock Resort. My sister wasn’t exactly happy with the previous accommodation. I don’t know exactly what she was on about but needless to say, she definitely has higher standards than me.

If there was a place I can imagine myself retiring, Camotes would be on top of my list. I love how it still has that rural feel to it. No traffic, two-way roads with views of lush vegetation and water buffalos resting on farmlands, fresh air, and did I mention no traffic?

Seriously, Cebu City’s traffic kills me. I feel sorry for everyone out there who has no choice but to put up with it. By the time you reach your destination, you just wanna go home already because your life has already been sucked dry sitting idle in your car or taxi or whatever but the thought of going through the ordeal again on your return trip fills you with dread so you stay for as long as you can until way past peak hours just to avoid the excruciating frustration of the experience.

Patience is a virtue I no longer possess as far as heavy traffic is concerned.

The unpaved roads, I can tolerate. To a point. Because sometimes they make for some funny adventures.

Like how the tricycle we were in got stuck in this watery mud that my sister and I had to get out so the driver can push and prod it along.

The driver was pretty game about it, as well. Typical Filipino attitude where you just go along with the country’s pathetic lack of decent infrastructure and laugh the experience off because, well, there’s really not much point having a heart attack being morbidly grumpy about it. There’s no Medicare to cover the hospital expenses.

This was one muddy puddle that took a while to get unstuck, though. I did offer to help but the driver was adamant he got it.

Eventually he finally did.

Thank god.

I was starting to feel sorry for the guy. I mean, you know, he was trying to make a living and all.

So we arrived at this lesser know beach in Camotes called Bakhaw Beach. A stunning, secluded area where only the locals and maybe a few handful of tourists go, on account that there wasn’t much crowd around when we got there.

We didn’t even know about it until my sister’s friend suggested to meet up with her there. She was very familiar with the island. Bakhaw Beach, she said, is where she goes when she wants some peace and quiet in an already peaceful and quiet island.

The place was gorgeous.

With the way the sun was shining so intensely that I still have the outline of my dress burned into my sun-damaged shoulders, you could hardly tell that a typhoon had just had happened. And I don’t know if my grammar is all over the place but, whatever. If you get it, you get it. If not, then… hi.

Speaking of ‘hi,’ I approached a group of locals who seemed to be in a communal breakfast by the beach. Armed with nothing but curiosity and a charming smile I hoped would win them over to indulge me in a bit of conversation, I asked them what they were eating.

Turned out these lovely folks were having a very fancy meal of freshly caught sea urchins by the beach.

Next thing you know, I was squatting in their circle sharing the decadent uni and a serving of bahaw (leftover rice) that they were kind enough to share with me.

Mary Ann, the lady who welcomed me into their fold, taught me how to scoop out the uni with my bare hands and which bits of the sea urchin I should avoid, particularly advising me against slurping the salty, watery juice inside the shell that could cause itchiness. Verbally contradicting the advice of this cheeky teenager who told me to do exactly that.

Apart from the tender moments I shared with Raven in the pool, that was the other highlight of my Camotes trip. That brief interaction with strangers that strangely leave your heart (and tummy) full.

The rest were icing on the cake.

And, yes, we did manage to secure tickets back to Cebu later in the afternoon. Raven also managed to squeeze in some pool time when we got back to the resort.

*Raven at 6 years old