sorsogon

Mount Bulusan: The Place Where The River Flows

| Chelsea

Living near volcanoes is not something I had ever experienced before living in the Philippines.  When I arrived at my site, I found my Municipality snugly tucked between two sleeping giants; Mount Mayon and Mount Bulusan.  Both of these volcanoes have been active during my service.  Mount Bulusan was raised to Alert level 2 when I first arrived and I could see smoke pouring from the crater from my house.  Mount Mayon has only just recently calmed down from her activity earlier this year.  Mount Mayon was raised all the way to Alert Level 4 and I could see the crater glowing from the Casiguran pier.

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But with both the giants subdued, I can sit peacefully on the pier in the early morning and gaze at the volcanoes on either side of me.  I can only see Mount Mayon on clear days.  The iconic cone peaks above the Sorsogon Mountains from across the Sorsogon Bay.  Mount Bulusan is hard to miss. Directly opposite of Mount Mayon, inland, Mount Bulusan towers over my little Municipality.  Unlike Mayon’s perfect cone, Bulusan is far from perfect with it’s flat, slightly lopsided, top.

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In Bicol, Bulusan means the place where the river flows (Gintong Aral).  This name couldn’t be more accurate.  Mount Bulusan feeds a number of freshwater springs, lakes, and waterfalls, that run into 4 different municipalities.  If there’s one thing I’ll miss, it’s an impromptu day of discovering the hidden uniqueness to each spring and waterfall running down the sides of Mount Bulusan.

Coincidentally, most of these spring hopping adventures have the same beginning.  Me and my sitemate, sitting drinking coffee or tea with our friend Kenny.  During a lull in conversation, he would ask:

‘Have you ever been to Masacrot Springs?’

or Bayugin Falls, or Nagsipit Falls, or Buklad River, all places that would one day take the place of Masacrot.

Most times Perri and I would reply ‘not yet!’

‘Well,’ Kenny would start,

‘We should go there! Let’s go there now!’

And just like that we would be in a jeepney, tryke, or car, off to see some part of Mount Bulusan we had never seen before.  Although they all have the same source, each spring and waterfall in Sorsogon is unique in some way.

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Masacrot Spring is shaded by giant crawling jungle trees, the water is a deep blue-green that compliments the sandy colored stones that line the pool.  The name Masacrot Spring is after the water found there.  The water is ‘masacrot’ which means acrid.  The water tastes as if it’s been carbonated.  I asked Kenny why it was like this and he said “it’s because of the mineral content of the water.  It’s a soda spring, so the dissolved solids make the water taste that way.”

At Nagsipit falls, just above Urok cold spring, the green layers of moss, leaves, and vines crawl forward as the falls erode backwards sinking further into the forest.  It makes the place look like the perfect watering hole to spot water sprites taking in the dewy breeze rushing out of the narrow cove.

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San Mateo Hot Spring has water so hot you can’t help but respect the sleeping giant looming above you as your muscles melt to mush.  Kenny told us his favorite time to visit the hot spring is when it’s raining.  It happened to be raining when we visited, and I realized exactly what he meant.  As the pool elevates your body temperature, you can feel the refreshing but sharp contrast of each individual rain drop hitting your face.

Bayugin Falls is back in the middle of the jungle.  Before arriving at the waterfall, there is a long metal bridge that passes over a canyon that has grown deep into the earth.  The canyon meanders through the forest and leads to a waterfall.  The water of this waterfall doesn’t all fall down, it seems to spray in all different directions.  The jagged boulders at the bottom of the falls have not yet smoothed.  So the water falls downward, but is then launched into the air by the jagged rock. The water flows down to a pool that is bordered by a tall wall of green.  At the top of the wall giant trees appear to float on air as their branches grow away from the crowded jungle out over the edge of the wall.

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Buklad River, the perfect spot for an early morning walk, the sunlight streams into the crystal clear water and the rocks that peak out of the water just a bit are the perfect height for sitting and combing your mermaid hair.

These are only the few falls, rivers, and springs , I’ve been able to visit while here.  There are so many others I won’t get to explore, this time around.  I’ve always been a salt water girl, but fresh water is alright…as long as it’s in Sorsogon, of course.

My Little Peace Corps Life: The Sea Wall

| Chelsea

This is one of those stories I wrote about a while back but never ended up publishing.  This one is from around early to mid-October 2016, right at the start of my life at site in the Philippines.

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When I lived with my host family, I discovered a spot that still remains my favorite spot in my entire municipality.  The end of the sea wall in my home situ Storom.  The situ is named ‘Storom’ because it started out, quite literally as a storage room when the national highway was being built.  But now, it’s a cute little concrete and dirt pathway snugly tucked between houses of all different sizes, materials, and colors.  My host family lived almost at the very end of this little pathway.

My occasional walk home, when Kuya Bilyo didn’t take me home in his tryke, was down the sharp downhill turn from the highway, around the a few bends waving to my friends posted on their porches, working at the sari-saris, and in the woodworking shop.  I’d walk past a few small rice fields, across the basketball court (even the tiniest of situs has a basketball court!) and down the straight path filled with friendly faces and tiny kids yelling ‘hello! I love you!’.  When I arrived home, I would quickly throw my things down, change out of my work clothes, grab my tsinelas, and walk to the seawall.

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The sea wall bordered the entire situ, keeping the river from putting the whole place underwater during the rainy season.  I’d walk down towards the only house further than my host family’s and climb up the concrete stairs to the sea wall.  The sea wall was flat on top with a raised portion in the middle making it so 3 people could walk side by side.  Usually Bochoy, the family dog, would jump up onto the highest tier and accompany me on my walks.  I’d walk down the meandering sea wall, the river on one side, and a sea of rice fields on the other.  My favorite part of the sea wall was, aside from Bochoy and I, there were barely any people on it.  Just he occasional fisherfolk returning from the sea.  Here, my neurons could take a break.

At the point where the river opened up to the sea, the sea wall ended.  I would sit and hang my legs off the end, and process what was almost always a hectic day.  On the days when the tide was low, I could walk out through the grazing cattle and carabao, to a few mangroves and a sandy tidal flat.  I would wander around that area, try to get some steps in from my mostly sedentary days, and watch the beautiful sunsets.

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One day I was wandering close to the few mangroves that were growing on the riverbed, the ground was sandy so I thought nothing of it.  My feet sank slightly into the sand and I stepped a bit quicker to prevent myself from sinking deeper.  Big mistake.  Instead of landing on firmer ground, I continued on to spots that were sinking faster and faster.  All of sudden one of my legs was sucked up by the earth to above my knee.  I tried to use my other leg to leverage myself out of the mud, but it too was sucked up!

I did a quick survey of the area, the LAST thing I wanted was for some horrified Ate or Kuya to find me stuck in the mud in my favorite wandering spot!  My host family would never let me come back! There was no one, only the carabao who lazily looked at me.  The carabao, if they were thinking about my situation at all, were probably jealous that I found such a good mud hole, not the slightest bit concerned that I was Indiana Jones style stuck in the mud.  I struggled a little and began to sink deeper.  I sat for a moment and laughed at the situation I appeared to be in.  Sucked up in the mud, on an abandoned beach, in the middle of the provincial Philippines, what a sight, what an experience, what a life.

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Composed once again, I surrendered my tsinela and used my arms to pull hard on the left leg, my right one sank deeper, but my left leg began to pull free!  Once at the surface I found a stable spot to pull my right leg out.  With my legs no longer holding the mud apart, it sank into the holes I had created beginning to take my tsinelas with them!  I quickly reached in and pulled them free as well.  I looked around again, legs covered in mud, still no audience, thank goodness.  I quickly darted out of the quicksand area, and to the sea to wash my legs, arms, and hands.  I sat back on the beach and laughed.  I think back to all my past selves.  The one who applied for Peace Corps, the anxious high schooler who packed her bags for university, the little 5th grader who dreamed of being a marine biologist, the kindergartener who wanted to be an astronaut.  I think of them, and I think of what they would think if they saw me now.  Muddy, wet, laughing, by myself, on a beach in the Philippines.  As an avid overthinker I really love the moments I can’t predict, the ones that really surprise me, the ones that I sit back and think about, and say ‘wow, I really didn’t see that coming’.  Probably my favorite part of living in the Philippines is saying those words so very often.