The resort staff also wanted us to stay longer. We were, after all, their only guests for the weekend. A boat ride – just 900 bucks – could take us to the falls at the other side of the lake, they said. Or perhaps we wanted to hike up the mountain.
We’re getting so good at sucking in our beer belly that they thought we were fit mountaineers.
But we – this dakilang tsuper and his favorite and only roommate for life – had miles to go to our next must-see Bicol destination: Mayon Volcano.
So we bid the staff goodbye with promises to come back with a pickup load of beer for some serious soaking of the serene Lake Buhi environment.
So we’re back on the road that early Saturday morning hoping to get to Mt. Mayon before clouds covered its perfect cone. We were told the best time to see the volcano was really early in the morning.
Again what looked liked centimeters on the map were hours-long drives in reality. But by now we’ve learned to rely on the ubiquitous Jollibee signs that informed us of how many kilometers there were to the Jollibee in the next town. Our tastes run to Tropical Hut classic hamburgers. But when in Bicol, follow the Jollibee signs and you won’t get lost or hungry.
We quickly ate up the kilometers to Jollibee after Jollibee . . . Iriga, Nabua, Polangui, Ligao. By the time we got to Ligao, we knew we had missed the chance to see Mt. Mayon in all its glory. Clouds were covering the top of the mountains on the horizon. One of them was surely Mt. Mayon, if our information downloaded from websites proved true.
We drove on through the shallow valleys of Guinobatan, shadowed in tall trees, and emerged in Camalig. We followed the road on to Cagsawa. Then suddenly we saw a sign — again relatively small and barely readable — pointing us to the Cagsawa ruins. Maybe the Department of Tourism could do a Jollibee and install signs informing people where and how far the next tourist attractions were.
To be honest, we – at least this backseat driver – are not enamored by active volcanoes, no matter how perfect its cone. But somehow it was worth the drive – and the foregone beer binge at Lake Buhi – to get there.
Two enterprising kids got us to buy postcards of the volcano by dogging us and pestering us with trivia about the old belltower buried by past eruptions. The old church was built with rocks, ash and egg yolk, they said. The egg yolk provided by the faithful who were inveigled, perhaps with fire and brimstone sermons, to bring eggs as offerings every Sunday.
Our roommate bought native bags and chichiria for the pasalubong at untouristy prices.
By the by, there are bed and breakfast places and a small resort with a small swimming pool just meters off the Cagsawa ruins.
After viewing the cloud covered Mt. Mayon from the vantage point of the buried belfry, we decided to retrace our route back north and home, again following the Jollibee signs.
Back in Naga, our giver of direction pointed us towards the renowned Our Lady of Peñafrancia Church. The church was impressive for its size and rather spare design. Feeling a bit like tourists, we went inside blithely ignoring the many donation boxes for the Our Lady of Peñafrancia.
Our roommate decided to take a picture of the inside of the church but her digital camera which had been working perfectly at the Cagsawa ruins suddenly had dead batteries.
We know it’s normal for batteries to run dead. But just to make sure we did not cross the church’s Lady who is said to have miraculous powers, this back driver slipped a donation into the box.
Back outside, the camera worked perfectly anew.
On a rather personal note, we’d like to wish John and Geryll Pastor of HSBC best wishes. They got married last Oct. 15, a payday. We hope their marriage will be like payday every day of their lives.
