The Kandy House

We shooed taxi drivers off our backs upon exiting Bandaranaike International Airport. Shervin and I just arrived at Katunayake, Sri Lanka past seven in the morning on a hot April day. The country's lone international airport sits in this town located more than 30 kilometers north of Colombo.

There was one driver who persistently followed our footsteps, despite us snapping our "we go by bus" mantra at him. His Rs 1,500 ($13) "very cheap price" wasn't cheap for us at all. He lingered around Shervin, who's never good at sternly declining offers, and went as far as threatening us that the bus won't come because it was a holiday.

Our home for a night. And Shervin with his handlebar moustache which he thought was very apt to wear in Sri Lanka. Thank goodness this is a distant shot.
Sri Lanka was celebrating Sinhala New Year. Like Christmas in the Philippines, Sri Lankans from all over the world fly back home to celebrate this big event with their respective families. And more passengers, means more business for transport groups. So I stood by my conclusion that the bus was servicing that day.

And it indeed arrived after fifteen minutes of waiting. I cast a told-you-so face at the cab driver before hopping aboard. Though the rusty white bus was just half full, the driver sped off after collecting passengers in less than a minute. The five-minute ride is free, and shuttles to/from the airport and the main bus terminal of Katunayake.

At the terminal, we searched and asked around for a bus going to Kandy. Amongst the few tourists, we were the only ones not heading to Colombo. A conductor directed us to a big non-aircon bus about to leave. We received a number of welcoming smiles and curious stares as we took our seats. Unlike in Tamil Nadu, India (where we've been a couple of months back), only a few women wore saris and none of the men wore a veshti. They may have embraced western fashion, but their Asian hospitality radiates beyond fabric. On board, for the first time, we were able to engage in amusing conversations with locals.

The ride to Kandy, though four hours long, was delightful (the cheap Rs 110 fare made it even more awesome). It is located 500 meters above sea level, and the road leading there offers calming views of greenery. Its elevation also gives the city a more pleasant climate, something we were looking forward to after escaping the Philippines' burning summer.

The family room, where we had tons of conversations over Ceylon tea.
We alighted at the bus stop near the Royal Botanical Garden. Our Couchsurfing host, Benjamin, commanded us so. He arranged for a tuktuk driver (who eventually became our official Kandy tuktuk driver) to pick us up. Benjamin's house is tucked far in the mountains, no wonder we could only go there by hired vehicle.

He was standing in front of the house, and flashed a big grin when we arrived. He led us inside and introduced us to the whole family. You might have guessed that Benjamin is not a Buddhist (well, his name's taken off the Bible). But even so, his family celebrates the Sinhala New Year too - they just couldn't answer some of our questions about the event's religious rites while we were all seated in the family room.

Feeling the "feel at home" vibe a bit too much. Just picked this up from the coffee table. I don't know 'til now who does cross stitching in the house.
After a quick afternoon tea, we handed them a gift from the Philippines. A fridge magnet with a jeep on it, and briefly described how the old U.S. military jeep evolved into the colorful present day public utility jeep that rules the country's roads. They immediately placed it on their fridge. I was proud to have left a Filipino mark in their home, so to speak.

Then, they showed us our room. Our room was basic and breezy, exactly the way we like it. In fact, too breezy and comfy that we unintentionally dozed off for a couple of hours. I jolted up when I heard my phone beep. I read some unimportant text message and panicked as I saw the time which said 3:30 PM.

Benjamin lent us a map to help organize our itinerary (something I vaguely plotted prior the trip) as he left the room before our nap. However, we didn't go through our plans and slept the whole time instead. Shervin and I at least agreed on visiting the Temple of The Tooth in the afternoon, and we only got a few hours left to see it!

You heard me right. The Temple of The Tooth. Whose tooth you might ask is so important that it has to be housed in a temple? Buddha's of course.

Me, Benjamin, Shervin (oh gosh, a close up!), and Benjamin's brother.
I lazily walked out of the room and asked Benjamin to call the tuktuk driver. Our day wasn't over yet.

Planning to go to Sri Lanka? Here's How To Apply For A Sri Lanka Tourist Visa for Filipinos and an idea of how much to spend on an 8-day stay.

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Meet My Backpacking Folks

I herded them past the terminal fee ticketing booth with much tribulation. They were fussing about the immigration form they had to fill out (and whinging about the travel tax and terminal fee even if they did not pay themselves). It was not my sister's first time to fly overseas and she patiently assisted my folks while I dealt with mine, the hubby's and my daughter's.

The Venetian, Macau. Taking them to a trip overseas is the most gratifying feeling.
We were at Diosdado Macapagal International Airport in Clark about two months ago, more than two hours early for our flight since we anticipated that something like this would happen. Plus I consulted and asked immigration officials which of our baby Luna's passports would be more convenient to use for the trip. She's unofficially a dual citizen and it was her first time to go abroad as well.

There were heaps of bickering within the group. You know when parents are being difficult because they're trying to not be difficult? Case in a point: When mom says she can lug her baggage herself when she looks like her arms are about to fall off or when dad promises he can still walk even if he already feels like passing out. Yes, they're in that old-ish stage where they just try so hard to prove their worth. And they always, always refuse to accept help.

"Dati kami nagtuturo sa inyo magsulat, ngayon kami na tinuturuan. (We were the ones teaching you how to write before, now you're the one teaching us)", mom exasperatingly said while jotting down her details.

Looking at these already makes me feel exhausted.
It was not the first time I took them on a vacation. My sister and I dragged them before to Puerto Galera's White Beach to celebrate New Year's Eve. It was 2004, and three countries were just hit with destructive tsunamis days prior our trip. Amidst my parents' paranoia, with our encouragement, they braved the beach. Mom enjoyed picking shells (and we had an argument about that "take nothing but pictures" thing) and buying trinkets while dad enjoyed his bottle of ice cold beer at the bar with a book. We constructed a lot of fun memories.

Almost seven years have passed, and us four were/are rarely together.

Because my hubby and I were about to leave the country (for an indefinite time) with our baby, we thought it would be nice to have a grander farewell celebration. Also, my dad has just fully recovered from being hospitalized for days, we wanted to give him a very special treat. By the way the trip was a surprise for them, they didn't even have passports yet when we booked the tickets.

Macau was my choice. My hubby would not have picked it because it's pricier than our other options. My reason for which (aside from the fact that we haven't been there) is that its environment is remarkably different from other countries in South East Asia. More organized transport system, cleaner streets, European-inspired heritage buildings, and opulent hotels. I assumed it has that 'wow' factor that will make them feel that indeed, they are not on Philippine territory anymore.

Sis helping dad with his Macau immigration form. Dad seemingly spaced out, probably couldn't believe he's finally flying out of the country. Baby Luna slept through her first airplane ride!
So did they like it? Let's just say that Macau changed them. And it's actually not the place per se, but traveling overseas as a whole. Their experience also changed the way they see through me, and what they think of me as a travel junkie... and they finally understood why we were embarking on a long journey soon to live in different cities. They have discovered the educational benefit of displacement.

More importantly, our short holiday bunched us all closer together. Something we desperately needed.

Of course we had a few dismal kinks during our three-day stay. Well, my mom and I almost always engage in a hot debate five minutes into speaking with each other - So that's one. Dad had diarrhea, which he already was suffering from even before arrival. Sister just wanted to sleep all the time. And... we fought many times about them not drinking water from the dispenser at the dingy hotel we stayed at (and let me tell you, they drink unfiltered water from a deep well via a rusty water pump in their province - let me tell you also that bottled water is expensive like anything else in Macau).

Okay, so maybe I am overreacting about the last matter. But hey, we're a dysfunctional functional family, perhaps like any "modern family". I shall reveal more of our bizarre disceptations soon... for this post kicks off my Macau series.

I know, I got too many series with intermittent posts.

PS Mom's now nagging me about the next trip.

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Snapshot Saturday: Behind Barbs

Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, Phnom Penh
Ol' Chao Ponhea Yat High School turned prison (Security Prison 21) by the Khmer Rouge. These barbed wires, tiled floor, and shutters were silent witnesses to the imprisonment, torture, and death of thousands.

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Out Of Boxes And Backpacks

Is how we intend to live from this day on. Until when? We have not thought about it yet. Our destinations? Unknown. What I can tell you though is that we have just stepped on the land down under this morning. Australia is where this epic family vagabonding begins.

Why a nomadic lifestyle?

We've been called silly, crazy, immature and irresponsible. And people positively assume (probably betting on it) that we will not have a good life, however they define such term. But nothing and no one could ever hold us down.

When we tied the knot, I knew that I have found the right partner to "settle around" with. Both of us were craving for a nomadic lifestyle because we cannot simply stay put knowing that there's a kaleidoscope world out there waiting for us!

Our whole life narrowed down to 60 kilos check in luggage + 14 kilos hand carry. And memory cards. Heaps of them.
Before we met, we were pretty much a couple of wandering souls already. We crossed paths in U.A.E. (we left our respective home countries to work and travel overseas), quit our jobs after 6 months of dating and backpacked around South East Asia together. We got hitched the same year, and got a baby on the way just after the honeymoon.

I don't wanna bore you with the details, but as you can see, these snippets of our history prove that traveling is not only a part of our life... It is our life. And I couldn't imagine living any other way.

And no, we're not a couple of high rollers globetrotting first class. We may even be in the same salary bracket (that can't make anyone rich) as you. Thing is we don't spend our money on dining out (except street food!), shopping, mortgage and other commodities that aren't described as basic. We'd rather buy flights on sale. That's just how we roll.

You might be wondering why we chose pricey Australia as our first stop (and why in the middle of winter!). Actually, we will be attending my hubby's graduation in July. To maximize the trip (we only paid $170 each for the flight because of a seat sale, Clark-KL-Gold Coast), we scheduled visits to a few of its famous destinations in Queensland and New South Wales. Nothing too adventurous however for the baby.

Where to next? We only booked one-way tickets, so we're free to fly to whatever country we like after our shindig here, as long as we could afford it (and as long as it ain't complicated for me to apply for a visa). Or maybe, we'll just head back to the Philippines forthwith to live in different provinces. So our baby Luna will be introduced to all the local cuisines/delicacies, grow to be multi-dialectal and have buddies nationwide.

The world offers so much possibilities and we are out to "explore, dream and discover". I gotta buckle up, this is going to be one wild ride!

PS Do you collect postcards? If you do, send us your address! We will be sending a postcard to one reader each month.

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Snapshot Saturday: Cure-Dillera

Have you been to Cure-Dillera?
A pharmacy near Dangwa Station, Baguio City. Cure-Dillera is a phonetic play on the name Cordillera, a mountainous region, north of the Philippines.

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Mt. Pinatubo: A Geologist's Dream Trek

She was four years old and on a different continent when the cataclysm of the Philippines' Mt. Pinatubo occurred in 1991. She was already fascinated with rocks, and unbeknownst to her, she was about to become a huge Spice Girls fan.

Fast forward to 2011, her fascination with rocks and earth grew to an obsession that eventually led to her present career as an engineering geologist. Whatever that means. And her love for the Spice Girls is already embedded in the farthest corners of her mind.

My introduction to Chuck's (not her real name, but most of her buds fondly call her that) character can be whittled down to these few facts. Chuck by the way, an Iranian raised in Australia, is my sister-in-law.

Murky is the new turquoise! Okay, so maybe it ain't, but sadly that's what we saw.
I was also informed that it was her burning ambition to see Mt. Pinatubo up close. So when I told her that we could in fact, walk on its crater, a giddy geologist went gaga. I even spared the detail of being allowed to swim in the crater lake and couldn't wait for her to find out.

Last March, on her second Philippines trip, she finally had the chance to fulfill this dream of hers. Though she and her boyfriend flew in the day before, she was already up and about at four in the morning. Coming from my parent's hometown Victoria, Tarlac it only took us an hour and fifteen minutes to get to Capas.

Our jeep driver (whom I booked through the president of the Pinatubo Tour 4WheelDrive) picked us up at 6, on the dot. We did a stopover at Pinatubo Spa Town to register, arrange a boat ride across the crater lake, and choose the theme for our lunch (meals included in the P1,500 package). We opted for Korean.

The loveliest geologist that graced the Earth's crust.
We wasted no time idling and quickly jumped back to our bright red 4x4. This time, we got an extra passenger, our assigned guide. Past the check point however, we were held up because we waited for another jeep for a convoy. Lone cruising jeeps aren't allowed. Chuck and the BF were thrilled to see carabaos stroll by, so I asked a local if they could briefly ride one to while the minutes away.

Almost half an hour later, a jeep arrived. Not just a regular tour jeep, but a military one. Followed by more military jeeps. Our driver explained that a few officers and soldiers are out for some R&R. They didn't look few to me.

Snapped a shot of this tank, with its cannon seemingly aimed at us, as we zoomed by.
The driver, with his face all covered (not to mention all the military men around), made me feel like we're on some war zone.
I semi dozed during the one hour and 30-minute, supposedly wild ride. And managed to wake up my senses when we got out of the jeep and onto the ash covered ground. Our driver pulled off a The Fast and The Furious move and overtook all of the other jeeps, which provided us a peaceful hike. I couldn't imagine how intense it would be to trek with armed soldiers (yes, they had guns hanging on their necks!).

Chuck took her time picking up rocks and scanning them with her geologic keen eyes. She was also carefully choosing which rocks to take home for uhm, souvenir research purposes. Battling sleepiness and exhaustion, I got lost in her full on academic discussion about igneous rocks. I thought, man she's so smart! Sometimes I wonder if people who don't know her take her seriously because she's still young (24!) and she sorta doesn't exude a geeky, scholarly aura (c'mon, with those hot pants?).

Falling far behind. I'm getting rusty at this.
She mentioned as well that Mt. Pinatubo's one of her favorite volcanoes because it's one of the most destructive in the 20th century. Apparently the more colossal a volcano explodes, the more awesome it is for her. I reminded myself to immediately shoo her away from displaced victims, should she have the chance to be with them, when she starts blabbering about how cool lava flow and ash fall are.

Our group reached the view point in forty five minutes. While my mouth was wide open in dismay because of the murky crater lake, Chuck's was wide open with delight. I voiced my disappointment about the absence of its turquoise-aquamarine hue, but Chuck didn't mind its state and even enumerated possible reasons for it.

The guide motioned us to head to the crater lake, where our boatman was waiting. We all hopped on together with a new acquaintance, an Israeli tourist (we were to bump into her days after in Sagada!). The boatman rowed rhythmically and swiftly as if we were on a dragon boat race. We got to the other side of the crater in just fifteen minutes.

It's safe, we swear!
Without hesitation (well, after our guide assured us it's not suicidal to do so), we jumped in the water. There were random ground patches that were burning hot because of the steam. On the contrary, the water was quite freezing. My head kinda got screwed whether I was feeling hot or cold, because in their extremest forms, I couldn't sense the difference anymore.

A geologist at work... wrapped in a towel.
In between dips, Chuck surveyed more rocks as she sat by the lake. Occasionally letting her eyes wander off and marvel at the surroundings that's crafted by nature's wrath.

Military men's day out!
She's one proud geologist who was able to make it to Mt. Pinatubo's crater. Next on her bucket list, experience an earthquake!

"Give peace a chance." Won't simply let this opportunity pass, gotta get on a military jeep!
Today is the 20th anniversary of Mt. Pinatubo's massive eruption. The Pinay Travel Junkie offers a prayer to the victims and their respective families.

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Snapshot Saturday: Morning Monkey Business

Man, ain't that the cutest nose ever?!
I shrieked as we chanced upon a bunch of proboscis monkeys, freely wandering and having brekkie by the beach. We were then striding towards our chosen forest trail for a morning hike in Bako National Park, Sarawak's oldest national park, Borneo.

I shrieked some more, and jumped, and sobbed (but not as much as when I saw a panda for the first time), and pinched Shervin to know I wasn't dreaming (okay, I shoulda pinched my own self but what the heck!). So yeah, I'm obsessed with those creatures!

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Serendipity Beach: Sun, Sand, Sea and... Spliff?

Sleepy Sihanoukville succumbed to the basic necessities of summer pilgrims. Accommodations for every budget sprouted, restaurant menus altered to intercontinental, watering holes mushroomed, masseuses/manicurists peddled their services by the beach, banana boats and jet skis bobbed on the water... it's got all the perks of Koh Phangan's Sunrise Beach with a fraction of the craziness, sans the booze buckets.

Not quite Thailand's Lamai Beach in Koh Samui, let alone Koh Phangan. And it will probably stay that way. Up ahead is Occheutal Beach.
Okay, so maybe it's ridiculous to compare the two because even with the mention of spliff on this post's title, Sihanoukville doesn't even come close to being sinfully insane.

In fact, backpackers who end up here don't crave for rowdy nights at all. They are the jaded ones, mostly suffering from temple overload. Symptoms of which include sprinting away/wincing in fear when someone starts talking about 12th century Khmer architecture.

And so, the southern coast of Cambodia, fringed with Casuarina trees and ecru sandy shores beckons those weary souls.

Serendipity Beach, devoid of inebriated partyphiles, crack of dawn.
Wait. Casua-what?! Casuarina is a type of tree or shrub that resembles Pines. Could it be the same genus as that of Anawangin's Pine-looking trees? I couldn't help but notice. And Erwin, my ol' travel buddy who was chugging an Angkor Beer and lounging on the same beach chair beside me, couldn't agree more.

We have been traveling around Cambodia for six days (about three years ago) and were relishing some downtime before flying back to the Philippines. My budget planning was a miraculous success, we were able to afford a few celebratory drinks. Uhm, alright maybe it was not much of a miracle since we constantly starved ourselves and slumbered in dingy guesthouses and walked the whole of Angkor Wat Complex's "Little Circuit" (which by the way is 17 kilometers) because we were too cheap to even hire a bike!

Actually, we even had a decent amount of riels spared for a non-canned meal. It was such a big deal to me, I told Erwin I wanted to head back to our accommodation just to dress up for dinner, though we haven't decided where to eat yet.

Left: Would be lovely to hire one, if only I had the extra bucks. Right: Even in this suit, no one offered a ride. Along Ph 14 Milthona.
I hobbled out of the chair (the comfiest beach chair I've ever laid my arse on, it was heartbreaking to leave!) and led the way to a narrow alley that connects the beach to Ph 14 Milthona, the street where GST Guesthouse is located. The alley itself is dotted with souvenir kiosks, drinking joints and themed restaurants.

Somewhere along the way, Erwin dreamily drifted off upon hearing a certain song, like a child lured by the Pied Piper. His ears took him to a resto which I assumed owned by some French expat/retiree, judging by the menu charmingly written on a blackboard. This was later affirmed by the owner himself who popped out of nowhere and exclaimed "Bonjour!".

I smelled garlicky pasta meat sauce from the kitchen. If it's the music that convinced Erwin to dine there, it was the aroma for me. And no matter how famished such aroma made me feel, I still ran to and fro our guesthouse - changed to a crocheted, cliche tropical cover up faster than you could say fetta tomato huile olive (if you could even pronounce huile right).

Dinner was uneventful. We had forgettable meals (well, it's been three years!) that didn't set off our taste buds' fireworks, but made us feel posh because it's not-our-usual-one-dollar price.

Left: Mind boggling menu behind me! Right: A still-sober Erwin by the bar.
What happened after though, was a nightcap to remember. At least for me who didn't hit the sack dazed. Erwin and I transferred from our table to the bar and ordered a mug of Angkor Draft each. The owner manning it was chattering with a fellow French in dreads, sitting on a bar stool not far from us and smoking a spliff.

At first we were talking amongst ourselves in Tagalog, recounting how kickass our trip has been. Dreads guy suddenly asked where we're from. He was curious for our language didn't sound familiar to them. In unison, we replied "The Philippines". His eyes transformed from dopey to about to pop out in a split second as he blurted, "I heard you got good weed there!". Surprise, surprise. His knowledge of geography seemed to revolve around uhm, grass.

But not to undermine Mr. Dreads, he's actually into world history. I must say, I got hooked listening to his backpacking misadventures (ooohh, that cute accent!)... Slowly, I developed an infatuation. And while I sat there, transfixed (I eventually stood up and sneaked closer), Erwin was experimenting with the joint passed on to him.

In just about under an hour, Erwin insisted we go back to the guesthouse. I was caught off guard for it's so not him to cut the evening short. I somberly bid goodbye to the French guys. Erwin didn't even bother to say farewell, and abruptly left the bar. I saw him sway left and right as I tried to catch up. When I was finally by his side, he threw an arm around me and blabbered gibberish. I swear it wasn't even English or Tagalog or geek talk. His words sounded like the vocabulary of my nine-month old infant.

It dawned on me that the spliff hit him hard. His head was spinning and he could barely walk straight. I dragged him at some point, with much difficulty for he was way taller than me. I dumped him on the bed while he was still talking to himself and constantly, creepily smiling.

What a crazy night. But something happened the day after that's way crazier than this, which involved giving up a mobile phone and iPod for a certain damage caused by Erwin. You gotta stay tuned for that.

Pinay Travel Junkie's boring note to self: While it's fun to try outrageous stuff whilst backpacking, it's smart to do so with a sane companion. Or skip it altogether. Erwin could have passed out anywhere had I not dragged him back to our guesthouse.

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Backpacking With A Baby

And I thought backpacking with a baby bump is cumbersome. Traveling with a newborn or infant is on a higher level of difficulty - well, more like on a different insane dimension... much challenging than the countless treks I did (no matter how long they lasted), or getting lost in translation, or hopping on dodgy buses and boats.

San Juan, La Union. Luna's first beach trip at two months old. Her longest ordinary bus ride then, two hours from Baguio to La Union via the dizzying Naguillian Road.
There were a few occasions that I was on the verge of crying whilst on a trip. You see, I was never fond of babies and children. A handful of my closest buds still couldn't quite grasp the thought of me raising one. The reason for which, is my lust for a carefree lifestyle.

It was the shock of our lives to find out that just after our honeymoon eighteen months ago, we already got a baby on the way. A made in China baby. Ideally, we wanted to have a child a year after being married. When things didn't go as planned, we didn't have any other choice but to accept our fate and alter our goals.

But our dream of becoming modern day nomads was never shelved. We welcomed our new little backpacking buddy with overflowing joy and pride, and started constructing itineraries that are suitable for her.

And we morphed into one of the most annoying types of travelers... The couple who cannot keep their baby quiet on the bus/plane/boat.

Thirteen days from now we'll be embarking on an epic trip that shall take us to different provinces around the Philippines and random countries across the globe. I firmly believe that this unconventional lifestyle will not only teach us about diverse cultures, it can also provide us New Age parenting ideas that will help us raise a child who's going to be aware of the ways of the world.

She has been constantly traveling since she was a month old. I am no pediatrician nor child care expert, but if you'd like to take your baby backpacking for the first time, here are a few tips:

Before the trip:

Luna's first overseas trip at seven months in Macau. She already had all her basic vaccine shots then.
1. Consult a pediatrician. Discuss with him/her your activities, and the country you're going to if you're heading overseas. It's also recommended that the baby had vaccine shots already, or at least some of them, before you go.

2. What to pack? There are a lot of factors to consider. You need to ask yourself: How long is the trip? What will be the weather? Will I be able to buy baby supplies there? And so on. Then you start estimating how much formula, bottles, clothes, nappies, and baby wipes you should bring.

If you're just traveling within your home country, you could buy more supplies as needed (brands that you're familiar with), easily during the trip. No need to bring a big bulk. Unless you're heading somewhere remote-ish.

If traveling overseas, that's when you should lug larger amounts of supplies if you don't want to experiment on unfamiliar brands. Choosing the right formula (milk powder) for the baby can be tricky.

A few of Luna's stuff we'll be bringing for our upcoming long trip. She took more than a fourth of my 30 kilo allowance. Grrr.
3. In the Philippines, medicine drops (for cold, cough, fever) for infants can be purchased over the counter. When our baby caught a cold in America, we couldn't find any quick remedy in the pharmacy. Ask your pedia if he/she could prescribe a few medicines that you could buy to bring overseas.

4. Research extensively about your destination. Although it's kick arse to be an explorer without fixed itineraries and maps, it would be irresponsible to be such when carrying a baby. Check the modes of transportation. They should be, of course safe for the little one. Also check the duration of each ride. You might not want to be on the bus for hours because you need to be up and alert all the time so you could hold on to your baby properly for drivers sometimes just suddenly step on the brakes or swerve.

On the road and up in the air:

Luna sleeping soundly in her infant car seat which we rented for cruising around California. Gave me good naps too, knowing that she's safer in it.
1. When traveling overseas, especially in the west, check the regulations on infant/child car seat. You might need to look into renting one.

2. On buses and cabs (in countries without the infant/child car seat regulation, you're not allowed to sit in front with the baby.

3. Most airlines charge for children 2 years old and below even if they don't get their own seats. If you feel like letting your baby just sit on your lap during flight is unsafe, you may opt to buy him/her a ticket and bring an infant car seat (if you own one) to strap on the airplane seat. Consult the airline company about this first.

An infant traveling overseas should have a passport.
If you brought a collapsible buggy, you could check it in at the gate before boarding. Fold it first before handing to them. Upon arrival, it can be picked up either by the door or at the baggage claim area.

4. Aisle seats may be more convenient for you so you could easily head to the toilet anytime (without awkwardly excusing yourself often) or stand to walk around and lullaby your baby to sleep.

Speaking of toilet, there's a nappy changing table for infants available inside an airplane's rest room. Bring a blanket to lay your baby on so it would be more comfy for him/her. Do not forget to strap the baby before changing.

Left: Baby holder inside a rest room cubicle in Narita International Airport. Right: Reading these instructions is a must!
5. An airline's cabin crew should hand you the baby's life vest before take off. Ask for one if they've forgotten (it happened to us). Peruse the manual for the instructions on how to use it.

6. Like everyone else, the baby needs to be hydrated during flight.

7. If you're on a ferry/boat, ask if there's an available life vest for the little one. If there's none, which is most likely, come prepared. Bring an inflatable floater.

When you get there:

With Sagada locals during a celebration in a dap-ay. Hiked without using a baby sling or carrier. Whew! And yes, we went to Sagada by GL bus from Baguio. Luna passed the highest point of the Philippines' highway system.
1. Once you've reached your destination, it's wise to check the location of pedia clinics in case you would need a visit. Don't forget to bring your baby's record book.

2. A baby sling or carrier will definitely make your wandering easier. Unfortunately, not for me and hubby. Luna never liked the constricting feel of it. Nor did she like riding the stroller. So I carry her most of the time. My empowering thought: A woman I saw in Sri Lanka who got on a train and carried her child for two hours while standing.

3. Instead of bringing a big baby shoulder bag, use a backpack instead. It will let your hands move freely. It also won't give you further shoulder/back pain.

4. Choose accommodations wisely. Your chosen one shouldn't be known for bed bugs. Also, if you cannot afford a hotel room, pick a guesthouse/hostel that have actual cemented walls. Not makeshift, thin dividers. You wouldn't want other guests to come knocking on your door in the middle of the night to tell you to shush the baby.

This mat with an attached mosquito net protected Luna from mosquitoes and sand blown by sea breeze. Bought for about P300, or $7.
5. Cheap accommodations also do not provide a baby cot or crib. Be prepared to sleep with the baby (if you're not a co-sleeper). Bring mosquito nets, by the way, especially when traveling in tropical countries.

6. Take heaps and heaps of photos!

Backpacking with a baby may seem like self-punishment. Truth is, now that I'm getting the hang of it... It's the most rewarding thing I have ever done in my life. And I'm totally not alone! Check out my fellow backpacking Pinay mums Eileen of Possibly Pinay, Kim of Indie Escape and Audrey of Byaheng Barok.

To all the women who are of the same species, throw your hands up at me!

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Snapshot Saturday: Bali Bust

Kuta Beach, one lazy early afternoon.
If you ask me about the best beaches I have seen here and abroad, off the top of my head, Kuta Beach ain't on the list. However, the island's cult following clad in rash guards, is such an amusing bunch. They can easily make you linger for a while.

Our three-day stay in Bali about two years ago was phenomenal, sans surfing... Thanks to our Couchsurfing hosts. But it wasn't for two Filipinas who were recently suspected of being "drug mules" by immigration officers at Ngurah Rai International Airport (Denpasar International Airport).

Bless their courageous souls for sharing via blog post and the social network their ordeal. That should teach 'em unreasonable beings.

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Hot Springs In The Cold

It took a hair-pulling half hour to pack the jeep with passengers. Our then two-month old daughter was getting fidgety. My legs were deadened for getting stuck in an awkward position, and couldn't stretch them because the floor was occupied by sacks of rice and baskets filled with farm produce.

Baguio City's full on frigid in November. It's been two weeks since we moved to our rented house, and already my hubby and I were dying to head somewhere warmer, even for just a few degrees.

Palm Grove's main pool. Mountains serve as a soothing backdrop.
That jeep transported us to Asin in Tuba, Benguet. The 45-minute zigzagging ride reminded me of Halsema Highway, in a strange mix of fond and terrifying aspect. The landscape is stunning, but I was too queasy to be all ecstatic.

We got off at the last stop. The Tourist Assistance Center, not too far from where we alighted, looked a bit dodgy to me. An old lady sprawled on its front steps, selling a heap of cucumber. The office seemed deserted.

Reception and souvenir shop.
To our right we read a sign, "Palm Grove Hot Springs and Mountain Resort". The structure's an odd sight in the middle of mountainous nowhere. Interesting, nonetheless. We walked to the reception and paid the P100 admission fee.

The resort was a box full of surprises. For one, we didn't expect it to be full of day trippers. And two, there's a big octopus slide at the main pool, which certainly looks weird (c'mon, a pink octopus?!), in the highlands. Also, a slew of Koreans (possibly Baguio residents as well) were there for the bath house spa.

Since we didn't intend to stay long, I shrugged off the idea of renting a picnic table and instead sat on a pool chair and laid our daughter Luna beside me. She was agitated with the heat. Asin's sitting on a lower altitude compared to Baguio. Though its climate's perfect for us, it ain't working for Luna's long sleeved top.

I undid her clothes, lied down myself, and watched the merrymakers in the pool.

At the balcony of the resort's in-house coffee shop, with a view of the Olympic-sized pool and the bath house spa.
Shervin was done with his dip in half an hour. Teensters in the pool were already getting rowdy, it was our cue to pack up.

From afar, the coffee shop didn't look inviting but we went anyways. Well, it's got the same impact when you're inside. We were famished but didn't find the menu enticing either. The dishes were pricey, and we'd rather spend that amount of cash in a more known resto.

Left: An empty hot spring bath. Right: Celebrating our second year since we became steadies.
So we resolved to having a bottle of beer each. Not a drop more to keep the little one safe. I savored a gulp, it was going to be a long ride home.

Trip's Nitty Gritty:

1. How to get there: Terminal of jeeps going to Asin Hot Springs (do not take the Asin Road jeep for it doesn't reach the resorts) is along Kayang Street near the public market. Fare as of November 2010 is P25.

Jeeps won't leave until they're full, so expect to wait 30-45 minutes if it ain't rush hour.

2. Admission fee for adults is P100, children under 4 feet P50. Picnic tables good for 10-12 persons can be rented for P200, gazebo with private grill for 15-20 persons is P800.

3. Alcoholic beverages are not allowed to be taken in. Beer can be bought from the coffee shop, P40 a bottle.

4. Coffee shop's meals range from P130 (pasta) to P285 (seafood dishes).

5. Operating hours 8:00 AM-5:00 PM. Indoor/outdoor hot bath and jacuzzi use has a specific schedule. Ask the reception for it.

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