SABTANG.COM
Your Unforgetable Vacation in Sabtang Island
From Basco, one may take the jeepney to Ivana where a wooden motorized
boat supposedly holding up to 25 passengers with cargo, makes the 30
minute crossing to Sabtang, at 10 pesos per head. Sometimes a bigger
boat is used. The first trip leaves as early as 6:00, or when there are
enough
passengers. The next boat leaves at about 11:00, or waits for the
flight from Manila, or, again, for enough passengers.
If the number of passengers justifies it, the boat will continue to the
other side of Sabtang, to the barrio of Sumnanga.
Except during April and May, one can expect to get wet on these boat
trips. Locals often carry umbrellas, against the sea spray; and the
absence of piers means beach landings, which can be rough and wet.
You don’t ever really leave Batanes By Karla Vizcarra
ON my last day in Basco, I rose before the sun did, and almost bawled
as this soft, orange orb swelled over the landscape, revealing all that
I would, in a few hours, leave behind. I’d leave behind the most
beautiful splodge of earth I’d ever set foot in; a way of life I
never thought could still exist. Even more astounding, aside from its
beauty, is that Batanes rouses in you the ancient, forgotten life
core—one free from modern excess, untroubled by the cold dictates
of currency. Batanes, with its green fertile belly, fuming, fish-filled
seas and massive cliffs, at once stuns and reminds people how the world
once was—and how far from it we have gone. Of course. The island
is 200 km away from Manila, separated by oceans, winds, legends and
typhoons, so no people are perhaps as unfazed as the Ivatans are by
capitalism, and its malls, money and Mickey Mouse. A hand-written sign
on a small town’s wall reminds people that gasoline is sold at
“P57/ liter,” and please, “exact amount only.”
In Sabtang, a smaller island 45 minutes away from Ivana’s port,
only a couple of stores sell cooked food—by request. After all,
everyone grows and raises his own chickens, cows and crops for their
own consumption. “Others still find it embarrassing to sell their
vegetables; they find it strange to have to ask for money for what grew
on their fields,” Auntie Cielo said as we dug into the escabeche
she placed before us, minutes after we knocked on her door, lured by
the sign that declared it a Food Hut. Her restaurant was not open, so
she kindly set before us her family’s fish dinner. Even in the
island of Batan (where capital Basco is the most citified in Batanes
archipelago), people hardly grew crops for profit, so plots for each
family remained just the right size. Livestock freely roamed the
fields; the abundant fields make up a communal pasture owned by all. No
fences There are no barbed-wire fences in Batanes, no gates prohibiting
entry in any of the beaches. At the most, there are hedgerows:
labyrinthian, shoulder-high shrubs that are more tourist attractions
than property delineators. They also serve as windbreaks, habitat
corridors and a means to prevent erosion. Centuries before sustainable
development could become a buzzword, these people had been practicing
it. My theory is that if the rest of the Philippines were as isolated
and as regularly taunted by ferocious typhoons—hurtling at 200
km/ph or more—we’d be as civilized as the Ivatans. In the
rural arteries of Basco, near the foot of Mt. Iraya, whose volcanic
ashes once spewed into the island of Batan and turned it fertile and
brilliant green, a neighbor discovered an old man squatting alone in a
tiny hovel. She immediately assembled her own limited resources to
build him a decent house, nothing, not even credit, asked for in
return. However, the island’s perennially salty air had since
then eaten through the roof. We went to visit the old man, and found
out he was hard of hearing, and didn’t completely understand what
was happening, except that for the second time in his latter life he
was surrounded by strangers fixing up his home. We were about to
introduce ourselves when we heard there was a yaru happening a few
meters away. Yaru In these parts, whenever disaster strikes, people do
not sit around blaming the government. People voluntarily get together
and start rebuilding—a gracious Ivatan practice known as yaru.
When the Spanish missionaries came to Batanes near the end of the 1600s
and exchanged the Ivatans’ gods with theirs, they also replaced
the Ivatans’ wooden and thick cogon houses with the famous lime
and stone wall structures Batanes is famous for today. These houses
were built, stone by stone, painstakingly carried from the sea, cooked
and stacked and left to dry over extended periods. To this day,
community works, without expecting something in return—just
kinship, and perhaps a hearty meal of native chicken stewed in
vegetables with steamed uvi (white kamote, the more common food staple
before rice came along). Lust for money The Ivatans do not lust for
money, hence they are uncorrupted by its effects. In Sabtang, the
former mayor was wheeling around in an old, rusty bicycle—his
burnt, robust face seeming content, with its full white moustache and a
safari hat on his head. It was sent to him, he said, by his son working
in a hotel in the Carribean. The provincial governor, we discovered,
lives in a modest, unassuming house, absurd anywhere else in the
Philippines. Public schooling and hospitalization are free.
Student-teacher ratio is at 1:12. The people leave their doors open,
their bicycles on the sides of the road. Gidgeon, a fellow traveler I
met on the trip, told me he had lost his wallet on the streets the last
time he was in Basco. The people announced it over Radyo ng Bayan, and
within minutes, he had his wallet back, everything intact. One only
needed to visit Honesty Café, a tiny store alongside the road in
Ivana to understand the tremendous faith the Ivatans had in their
fellowman. Here, there are no storekeepers. Instead, there is a
cheerful sign on the wall telling people to simply take what they
wanted and drop the prescribed amount in the cash box. The owners
worked in the fields, and did not have the time to man their store. Now
that direct flights have opened up Batanes to the mainland, it is
disquieting to think of what full-blown tourism could do to upset this
balance. “You must be careful of tourists,” Señor
Lacoma, a Spanish painter traveling with us, warned Sabtang’s
mayor. “They are not always good for a place.” Robert
Bastillo, himself a proud Ivatan, is doing what he can as Batanes
Eco-Cultural Tourism consultant to preserve the island’s harmony.
“The trick is to get the right tourists. Those who will come to
respect Batanes’ heritage, its deep cultural roots and how nature
has shaped these people to become what they are—people who will
marvel not only at its astounding landscape, but at the Ivatan way of
life.” Their best project is the concept of homestays: apart from
checking in a hotel, a tourist lives in a traditional Ivatan house, the
centuries-old limestone abodes built in the Spanish era, and be deep
into the genuine, beating heart of Batanes. But modernism has set in
many parts. Already, more people are abandoning their 18th century
limestones and tough cogon grass for cement and paint and galvanized
iron roofs that the harsh sea would inevitably corrode in three years.
The idea is to build a tourism industry that would strengthen the
Ivatan culture instead of obliterating it. Lola Fiorestida, 88,
understands this well. She is the occupant of the oldest stone house in
Batanes, the “House of Dakay.” Her relatives now live in
concrete houses beside hers. I asked her if she’d ever want to
move in with them. “No,” she said, her gracefully-lined
face resolute. “These walls keep me warm during cold days and
cool during hot days. I wouldn’t change anything.” She
welcomes visitors to her humble, little home, speaking to us in
Filipino, English and Ivatan. I had decided to spend a night in
Sabtang, where a good portion of the houses remained impervious to the
more contemporary designs of their neighbors. I sat down on a low,
stone wall and watched the sun slowly set over the stone streets and
hedges, the dark grays and blacks contrasting sharply among the lush
green of the grass. Chickens strutted everywhere and children played
unmindful of strangers, wearing tiny sweaters, coats and caps to ward
off the late afternoon chill. Fathers pedaled by, their little ones
hugging them from behind. The colors, the wind, the ancient windows,
the voices. I must have stayed there for hours just watching, in awe of
how everything just was. And I knew, the next time I come, I would
never leave again.
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pix Tour Packages
The Ivatan Lodge is another government-run place, located on the 2nd
floor of a warehouse-like structure. Lots of rooms on both sides of a
long corridor. They have 2 airconditioned rooms. In the ground floor are
an assortment of offices and shops.
Not a soul was stirring
when we visited. Only the security guard was on hand to show us around. I
had the impression that Ivatan Lodge is a hohum place. Maybe it will be
different during peak season.
Here's the usual litany of room rates:
Single - P300
Double - P400
Triple - P600
Aircon - P1000 (2 rooms. max of 3 peeps in a room)
Family - P750
Address: Center of Basco town, Batan Island
Comparison: about average
Directions: Next door to Shanedel's
othercontact: ivatanlodge@yahoo.com
Price: less than US$20
Theme: Hostel
If you are staying overnight in Sabtang then consider staying at this
place. On the 2nd floor of the Sabtang Nat'l School of Fisheries' home
economics building are two 2-bed rooms and one 5-bed room. The rooms are
immaculately clean. 1 shared bathroom.
Cooking facilities in
the ground floor. They have a small corner selling Batanes souvenirs and
post cards. Interact with the school kids as they go about their work.
Tread carefully, there's a sign there that says "This is an English
speaking zone" :-)
How much? P100 per person
Call Jesusa Cielo / Marites Agcaoili in the numbers below.
Address: Centro, Sabtang Island
Comparison: least expensive
Directions: Next to the Sabtang pier. You wont miss it
Phone:
Price: less than US$20
Theme: Hostel
Shanedel's Inn is run by Shane and Dely Millan whose family live in the
premises. There are 14 rooms, half of which is airconditioned. The rooms
are pretty basic. There's a queen size bed, a single bed, bathroom (no
heater) and electric fan. No tv. No towels. Rooms 12 and 14, located on
the 2nd floor, are the best as they look out to Basco Bay and there are
windows on 2 sides of the room. The yummy home-cooked meals are served
in the garden that looks out to sea.
As we were the only guests
at that time, we were pampered no end by Dely. Breakfast is ready on the
agreed time. I requested for a 'pako' (wild fern) salad and its on the
table the next meal. On the day we were to fly out and the flight was
canceled, Dely helped to book us on the next flight out. We'd SOS for a
tricycle to come pick us up and Dely's off to send someone.
Ok, here's the tariff:
Fan room - P350/person
Aircon room - P750 (single), P1000 (double), P1200 (triple)
Meals - P100-120 (breakfast), P100-200 (lunch & dinner)
Shanedel's
can arrange your Batan island tour, Sabtang island tour and even big
game fishing. I was told that the hunky actor Richard Gomez always call
on Shanedel's whenever he comes to Batanes for fishing.
While I
like the newly-renovated rooms at Batanes Resort and the view from the
cottages is to die for, I prefer the location of Shanedel's as it's
right smack in the center of town. I enjoy the freedom of just walking
out the door to make a trip to the shops or walk to the terminal to get a
tricy. I definitely recommend staying at Shanedel's.
Contact the owner Dely Millan in the number below
Unique Qualities: Located in center of town. Feels like home.
Address: Center of Basco town, Batan Island
Comparison: about average
Phone:
Price: less than US$20
Theme: Inn
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