Toilet Training Success (and Frustration)

Inspiring potty training moment.

I am happy to report that Narra now knows what's going on. She tells us when she needs to go, and we take her to her potty.  Haha, I say it so simply. But let me paint the two scenarios involved - let me put that sentence to life. "She tells us when she needs to go, and we take her to the potty" Part 1 (the inspiring version). "Mama, weewee ako" she says. I help her out of her pants, she does her business, she smiles proudly "look mama" and points to her achievement. An appreciative audience applauds her. Neat, quick, even elegant. Happy potty training moment! Woohoo!

Now let's do that sentence again. "She tells us when she needs to go, and we take her to the potty" Part 2 (the horrifying version). "Mama, poopoo ako" she says. I rush to take her to the potty, and we make it there on time, I am halfway done pulling her pants down when she shouts "not sa potty, sa toilet, I want sa toilet", she gestures frantically to the bathroom a few steps away, I lift her and run to the toilet - it is soooo close, just a few steps!... but we don't make it to the finish line and lose the battle mid-way. Sigh. Her pants are mid-way down her legs. We were midway between her room and the bathroom. Yaya Ruby is mid-way through her day-off - she's a good helper for sure - that is, when she's around.  Narra's poop was mid-way between solid and liquid - eeeeew! It was the kind of mess to test one's mettle. I was mid-way between regret and pride;  frustration and elation.   Regret and frustration: why am I wallowing in waste? ...in my daughter's waste matter; and my wasted opportunity - I have a PhD for crying out loud - why am I Dr. Nikki Poop Cleaner PhD now? Get me out of this house now! Wah! I only want the cute parts of motherhood - the greeting card - picture perfect - fuzzy feeling moments! I want none of the crap! (literally). Hahahaha. 

But of course, there's that other part, the Pride and Elation part that understands that I've just taught my daughter something complex and she understood her body and what it needs to do. She demanded I move her from her little potty to the grown-up toilet - and that makes me proud! She wants to take the next step, to go to the next stage, to graduate from her training camp to go join the big leagues. I can get past the yucky stuff to celebrate the fact that I WAS HERE TO WITNESS HER MILESTONES.  Potty training was a long and protracted process, a journey that sometimes felt directionless and endless. But not now, not anymore. We're getting there. Like a city that appears on the horizon after hours of driving on the freeway, our goal is within reach. We're at the city limits, we've just about arrived! We're not just getting there, we're almost there - I could smell it!!!!! Something's clicked in her brain. The necessary neural connections have been established for a lifetime's worth of "comfort". And when it comes to being a mother - no job is beneath me. I embrace all the tasks involved and in the process, I am mother made real. Not this tutti fruity cutesy mom who shrinks at the sight of the less desirable baby stuff (read: poop, puke, boogers and blood), but the sturdy mom with the intestinal fortitude to match. 

So, I am happy to report that Narra now knows what's going on. She tells us when she needs to go, and we take her to the potty. Whew!

Related Post:

Diaper Free Before 3: Should Potty Training Be Started Early?

http://nikki-mama.blogspot.com/2011/09/diaper-free-before-3-should-potty.html

Narra's Play School At Little Archers Learning Center

The children, painting drawings of buses with watercolor.

We took Narra to attend play school for the first time in her very young life, and I think I was more  nervous-anxious-excited than she was! We took her to Little Archers Learning Center at Mall of Asia (LALC-MOA) for a Playcare session of 2 hours of teacher-supervised structured play with other kids her age. I was supposed to leave Guijo and yayas at home, and just accompany Narra all by myself, but Yaya Ruby wanted to see Narra's first day in play school - and Yaya Jennilyn followed suit... we were all excited. So off we went to MOA, all 5 of us - 3 adults, 1 toddler, 1 baby.  When we got to LALC, I showed Narra her classroom and encouraged her to take a look on her own. The room had little tables and chairs, and numbers and letters on the walls - and activity boards at child's height. It brought back memories of my own nursery and kindergarten days!  I found everything so cute :-D

Narra inspecting her classroom before the session started.

Parents and yayas are encouraged to leave children in the care of the center's staff so they will benefit fully from interacting with their teachers and peers. So when classes started, we stayed outside, walked around, and just peeked every so often. The kids looked cute doing their activities: they did some singing, storytelling, and completed an art project using water color and crayons.  At some point, there was also recess. Narra barely touched the snack I brought her because she wanted to continue coloring during recess. I'll take that as a sign that she enjoyed the activity. 

Narra, focused on her coloring project during recess.

None of the things I feared actually happened. Whew! I feared she would cry, or throw a fit, or have "S" (as in sumpong), or fight with other kids over a toy, or book, or crayon.  I feared she'd look for me, and not want me to leave. Or worse, I feared she'd be mischievous and naughty, and destroy something, or be difficult to control, or make a classmate cry!  To my surprise, she was an absolute angel. She was well behaved, focused, obedient and cooperative.... and quiet! Where did my willful and noisy toddler go? Who is this little miss conduct in her place?

Little Archers provided a very secure environment conducive to learning. The teachers were great at handling the kids (and handling us parents too, I might add). They were authoritative and patient, effective and kind.  There were also many toys and books and padded play areas... costumes and props, and music!... all sorts of stuff that make kids feel at home. Narra came in tentative and hesitant, and went home comfortable and eager. That's a very good sign indeed.

Narra dutifully completing her art project towards the end of class.

We're deciding when to send Narra to pre-school. A lot of parents nowadays start sending their kids to school at 3. Oliver went to school at 4 years of age. I started at 5.   I wonder if it makes a difference? Sending her to Playcare sessions once a week allows us to get a feel for her readiness and need for school. Last Saturday was the first of ten sessions.  I am hoping that in the weeks to come, she'll make friends, and speak up, and interact more with her teachers and classmates. I hope she learns a bit more independence from me and her yayas, and becomes confident in facing social situations on her own. 

Proudly showing off her art project for the day.

When Narra completed her project, her teacher stamped a star on her hand. Oh how excited she was about that! She showed it to me proudly.  It's good she got to take home her art project for the day. She was excited to show it off to her papa, and grandparents, and aunties/uncles and cousins. I couldn't wait to post her little project on our fridge!

My oh my, how time flies. Didn't I just give birth to her? Wasn't she just a tiny little baby in my arms? How quickly she became a little girl. Next thing I know, she'll be graduating from college. Haha - ok, I am getting waaaay ahead of myself.  I took her to play school. It lasted 2 hours. It's a very simple thing. But it was a milestone for me, and her. For the first time, I turned her care over to a virtual stranger. I entrusted my child's instruction to a learning center, I relinquished control.  I let her go. Oh my. This was just 2 hours...and I was on pins and needles. I will have to steel myself for a lifetime's worth of letting go. I suddenly feel a profound sense of gratitude to my parents for letting me go so often, to far away places and for long periods, so I could learn life lessons from the whole wide world. Wow. I have to grow into my role as parent as my child grows up, and boy, do we have a loooong way to go. For now, I'll take baby steps with my toddler. We'll do 2 hours each Saturday at Little Archers Learning Center which is a very good place to start.

What Valentine's Day Means To Me Now

Walking our dogs in Lipa. Feb 2009. I was 6 months pregnant with Narra.

Three years, ago, in 2009, Oliver gave me a lovely Valentine's gift. It was a Tiffany bracelet with a heart charm on which a single 3-letter word was engraved: MUM (count on my husband to pick a less popular spelling - it made me laugh when I read it).  I was then 6 months pregnant with our first child. I felt a different kind of kilig when I received it.  I was going to be a mom! It's the fulfillment of a cherished dream from childhood. Like most other women, I dreamt of finding that one person with whom I'll raise a family. I got to live out the classic vision of having a home with a white picket fence (although in our case it was a black steel fence).

In front of our home, with our dogs Kira and Turk.

Our first home  in Lipa, Batangas, was pretty surreal. It was a secluded rustic house made of bricks and glass with a rugged paint finish on the cement walls.  The house's finishing touches was designed by local artist and celebrated potter Ugu Bigyan from nearby Tiaong. The woodwork was likewise sourced locally, made of indigenous materials, and crafted by San Pablo's skillful carpenters. The house sat on a corner lot overlooking fields with coconut trees. We had views of beautiful mountains of the Southern Tagalog region.  That home gave us a strong sense of place - we are here! We are home! Oliver and I had a long distance relationship before getting married. I was in Singapore, he was in Hong Kong. And before that, I lived in Spain, and he lived in Japan. We both had options to live elsewhere. But we both wanted to come home and establish roots here. And in Lipa, we lived an idyllic existence replete with leisurely pursuits.

With Kira, who was also pregnant like me!

We would take long walks in the wind, towards the sunset, or under the stars. We'd let our dogs run free across fields, unleashed, and make them catch frisbees at great distances. We flew kites! And picked wild flowers to put on our vase. We slept early when everything got dark, and woke up early when our room was bathed in sunlight. We holed up in our room when strong rains came, and howling winds banged on our windows. We'd invite family and friends for a weekend barbecue. Here, Oliver was indulged his many hobbies: fishing, biking, hiking, riding his scooter, training his dogs. Here I was able to go roller blading, enjoying long stretches of cemented road all to myself, skating for hours without encountering a soul.  Here too, we had fresh coconuts, straight off the tree and split open with our own itak.  We ate fruits in season and heard frogs in concert come mating time. Isolated from my family and friends, and from the busy lifestyle I used to live, I had many moments of frustration and depression in Lipa. But at the same time, this sad time was also a sweet period - like one prolonged honeymoon. Now looking back, that moment in Lipa seems all too brief! A precious period before our children came, when family meant only him and me. 

My first visit to what would be my future home with Oliver. July, 2008.

And this is why I think of Lipa today, on Valentine's Day. The mind has it's own way of filing away memories, and somehow my mind put that brief period in Lipa and Valentine's Day in the same drawer.  

Valentine's after all, started as a commemoration of Christian martyrs named Valentine (The Catholic Encyclopedia speaks of 3 St. Valentines, all martyrs), and later evolved to be a celebration of courtly love and romantic love. My Valentine's (like any other wife's or mother's for that matter) is a story of both romance and sacrifice.  That is what my Tiffany bracelet means to me...yes, a romantic gift it is, from the man I love. But also, with the engraved word "Mum", a symbol of my new identity, as supportive wife to my husband, and doting mom to my kids. I woke up this morning and looked at the loves of my life: Oliver hugging Narra, who was hugging Guijo, who in turn was hugging me. And I thought to myself "Happy Valentine's Day Mum". Oh how in love I am, with all of them. 

Admiring a National Cultural Treasure in Boljoon

Alex, Jay, and I admiring the carved facade and bell tower of Boljoon church.

One of the occupational hazards of motherhood is the high probability of being afflicted with the treacherous disease of myopia. The tendency to hyper focus on our children's welfare is ever present as the home becomes our world and we become consumed with domestic dilemmas.  This weekend, we took an energizing trip to Cebu and I saw the big picture again. What a relief it was to  view the world from a wide-angled lens.  We spent the weekend exploring an island and swimming with whale sharks, and on our way home, we stopped by the picturesque town of Boljoon, along the coast, to admire the town's national cultural treasure, its lovely stone church, which is the oldest of its kind in Cebu. I saw in the church's facade, the coming together of worlds - architectural influences from Europe, filtered through the Americas, combined with Asian flavor.  This building tells a story of confluence - it tells the history of our nation, and our identity as a people. We see a bit of Spain, and a bit of Mexico...and a bit of China - and a lot of Cebu. Our travel companion, Alex, points out a pair of lions carved into the stone, on the base of the entrance arch, on either side of the church doors - a traditional feature in Chinese architecture.  The church's bell tower looks like the  church steeple in some little Mexican pueblo wearing a Chinese pagoda-like roof on its head.  

The painted ceiling and steel beams over the church's nave.

Inside, the nave is long and grand, with a beautifully painted ceiling running its entire length. The building has been retrofitted with steel beams to hold the structure in place. It borrows a lot from Europe, and yet, it holds its own distinct personality as a church from our side of the world - it shows in the local materials used - coral stone walls, lumber from our native trees - the church offers a strong sense of place - we are here in the islands. It is a place of worship, but also built for defense - a fortress of sorts, to protect the townspeople from Moro raids. The belfry is at the same time a watch tower. The church is poised, facing the sea, like a rook in a game of chess, standing guard. 

St. Michael the Archangel facing the sea.

That the church is ever prepared for battle is seen in the choice of a warrior saint on the entrance arch. I could almost hear the fervent recitation of the powerful prayer for protection against strong adversaries: "St. Michael the Archangel defend us in battle...". I recite this prayer countless times myself, when I am alone with my children and the dogs howl in the middle of the night.

The main altar.

In keeping with folk tradition when visiting a church for the first time, I approached the altar to ask for three wishes. I stared at the old santos and imagined the countless petitions surrendered at their feet  through the centuries.  These statues are not just statues - they are not merely inanimate objects or symbols of faith - they are alive and infused with a spirit force fueled by the people's belief in their intercessory power. I prayed for health - my children's, my husband's, my parents', my own - and that of my career's. I can pray for these things anywhere else, in front of my own altar at home, or at any of the usual churches I visit for Sunday mass. But I wanted to leave my prayer here, in this potent place. An old church always feels more efficacious to me, because I feel as though I am tapping into a collective prayer that has gained momentum through many generations.  

The choir loft, adorned with elaborate wooden cut-outs. 

Outside, next to the church, is a striking building made of stone and wood. It is marked thus: Escuela Catolica on top, with the year 1940 inscribed above the entrance door on the ground floor. As we posed for a photo on the front steps, we could hear a haunting rendition of the song "Yaweh I know you are near" being sung by unseen old women hidden somewhere inside the old building.  Each note seemed to drag a tad bit longer than prescribed, with superfluous trills and vibratos, giving the song a chant-like quality, akin to the delivery of the pasyon. Their singing makes the familiar song sound foreign to me, even if I know the song by heart.  I am amazed at how a modern song in English is made to sound like a melody that harks back to Spanish times - even older! Did our babaylans communicate with their anitos in this voice? The old women's singing, as with the church's architecture, are acts of translation, and appropriation - of localizing the foreign by stamping our unique flavor on things borrowed, and making them our own.  

Escuela Catolica, a stone and wood building built in 1940.

My mind wanders back to my current occupation of being mother to two young children. I think of my own acts of localization. I read up on research and medical advise on parenting and child rearing borrowed from elsewhere, but I rarely apply what I read to the letter - always, or at least more often than not, I will add a twist - or translate things to suit my environment by using materials available to me. Foreign recipes end up having ingredients substituted to include bahay kubo vegetables. Foreign children's stories end up being translocated to our forests and seas.  Foreign melodies are wedded to local words. In such a way am I a Filipino mother, global and local - always on the internet virtually exploring the world, but forever striving to root my kids in this, their Philippine reality. I embrace the foreign but make it my own. Just like those women chanting their song. Just like the church builders in Boljoon carving things Spanish and Chinese onto Cebuano coral stone.

Our Sumilon Island Escapade

A photo of the poster for Sumilon Bluewater Resort taken at Sumilon's Port

This weekend, we had an exquisite experience in Sumilon island, off the southern coast of Cebu. Our objective was to see whale sharks in nearby Oslob. But Sumilon itself, had so much to offer, that seeing the whales ended up being a cherry on top of the sundae, a bonus of sorts.  Even before we boarded our ride to ferry us from Oslob to Sumilon, the walk on the jetty was already a feast for the senses. There were varying hues of blue, deepening with every step from shore to boat. On the boat we were lulled and rocked by wind and waves.  The 3-hour scenic drive to Oslob, and the 15-minute ferry to Sumilon gave me enough time to reminisce about childhood trips to various islands.

On the jetty to board the ferry to Sumilon island

I grew up traveling with my father who was a pilot for the Philippine Navy. Yes, a pilot - in the navy. He knows the air, he knows the sea, and knows the Philippine islands intimately. My dad had a bird's eye view of this country, and used nautical maps for navigation, reading the hues of the water as "land"marks. How I loved traveling with him because he was a good storyteller with many tales to tell. He explained to me the famous Filipino saying "Ang di marunong lumingon sa pinanggalingan ay di makararating sa pupuntahan" (One who does not look back to his origins will not reach his destination) from the perspective of a boatman. Navigating the sea relies a lot on reference points.  Without these points of reference, it is easy to get lost. It is no surprise an archipelago like ours, with 7,000 plus islands, would have a proverb like this.

Sumilon island, appearing on the horizon.

Every time I ride a pump boat, I think of my dad, and the many trips we took around the Philippines. In the 1980's to early 1990's he took us to Puerto Galera, Cebu, Palawan, Zamboanga, and even Boracay - long before it was developed.  I've seen my fair share of resorts - from the cheap and simple - to the fine and pricey. And I am happy to report that development does not necessarily result in the destruction of a tourist spot.  Diving spots have become sustainable marine sanctuaries where fragile ecosystems manage to survive.  Sumilon island is one such marine sanctuary. Right in front of our room was a beach, and Oliver and I were walking by casually, when a school of parrot fish appeared in the water. Before that, a sea turtle with a lovely orange shell kept us company as we took a stroll. It swam in the shallow waters below our trail. Wow!

Oliver couldn't help but climb a tree that juts out to the sea.

Then there was the amazing flora.  There were trees reaching over the water, with their roots embedded  in the cliffs.  There was a natural lagoon with a mangrove forest, and Oliver and I took a kayak and paddled our way around the roots and vines, all the while marveling at these wonderful trees that reside between soil and sea.  It was a weird feeling kayaking in that mangrove lagoon - it was exciting and relaxing at the same time... energizing to the spirit, but sleep-inducing to the body! It must be the meditative feel of repetitive gentle paddling, or the hypnotic effect of ripples on the calm water surface. The sounds of nature also added to my deepening relaxation, the chirping birds, rustling of leaves, the sound of waves in the distance. Sighhhhhh! What a pleasant way to get a work-out.

Kayaking in the island's natural lagoon and mangrove forest.

After kayaking, we made our way back to our room, and we had a nice, round outdoor Dedon chair that's perfect for lounging, and an inviting hammock with cheerful throw pillows. It was time for an afternoon nap. What a dilemma. How can we sleep when there's so much more to explore? 

Our room's additional amenities: a hammock, and lounge chair.

While my hardworking husband took a well-deserved break, I ended up attending a unique prayer service as he slept. A priest was ferried in from the mainland so he can celebrate anticipated Sunday mass for the staff of the resort. The mass was held at 4 pm (quite early for an anticipated mass) because the priest had to be brought back before sundown. Besides, the mass was held in a forest, and it wouldn't be good  to still be in the woods by nightfall. It was a unique experience, attending mass held in a clearing by a cave. The mass was delivered in alternating English and Cebuano, and for my benefit, a bit of Tagalog too.  It was a beautiful experience for me - it gave me an excuse to sing in the forest. I sat in front of a tree trunk, and my position gave me an excuse to hug a tree as well. It's one mass for the books! Alex, our travel companion who took the pic below (thanks Alex), said we looked like a cult. Thoughts of Mount Banahaw come to mind.

Anticipated mass by the cave in the woods. (Photo by Alex Paglinawan)

The next day, Sunday, we woke up early to explore more of the island. There were trails to trek. One path skirted the cliffs above the beach, the other cut across the wooded interior.  Walking along the cliff trail, we saw a rickety wooden ladder leading to a secluded strip of white beach.   

A ladder from the cliff side leads to a secluded beach.

On the northern side of the island lie two structures of interest: a lighthouse, and an old baluarte or watch tower from Spanish times. I indulged my inner kid and climbed up the tower, executing  a favorite photo pose from childhood, an arabesque, halfway up. Sadly, I did not climb to the top. I feel if this had been ten years ago, when I was more physically fit and fearless, I would have climbed to the top with camera in tow. Motherhood has made me more conservative though. I am no longer inclined to take unnecessary risks with a toddler and an infant waiting at home.

The lighthouse on the northern part of the island.

The old baluarte next to the lighthouse is in ruins. Trees and vines have overtaken the stone structure - destroying it and preserving it at the same - pretty much like the many stone temples in Angkor Wat. The watch tower was part of an elaborate early warning system devised by the Spanish to alert coastal towns so they can prepare for the arrival of Moro slave raiders who came in full force.     

Oliver in the baluarte/watch tower from Spanish times.

We had to end our hike around the island in order to catch our dive boat which brought us to the feeding area for whale sharks.  Originally, Sumilon was just a means to an end. A place to stay as we pursued our main objective, of seeing whale sharks. We were considering staying elsewhere. Our travel friends Alex and Jay suggested we join them in Sumilon and what a brilliant idea that was! Sumilon is an end in itself, an island not without merit. I got to sing in a forest, hear mass by a cave, climb a lighthouse, inspect a watch tower, kayak in a lagoon with a mangrove forest, hike on a cliff by the beach, sleep on a hammock, snorkel right in front of my bedroom! I am completely recharged and ready to return with vigor to my routines with my children. Traveling is such a great thing. More often than not, we return home, better people than when we left.

Sumilon Bluewater Resort's Website:

http://www.bluewater.com.ph/sumilon/home.htm

Whale Shark Watching in Oslob

This weekend, Oliver and I went off to Oslob Cebu, to see Whale Sharks - gentle marine giants called  tuki by the locals of Cebu, and  more popularly known as butanding elsewhere.  Leaving Narra behind was not difficult. She's seen the movie Finding Nemo countless times, so she has an idea about what diving is, what whales and sharks are, and why swimming in the open sea is not suitable for small children. I also told her that as a good ate, she should keep her baby brother company. Before our trip, I did a lot of sleuthing online and made my daughter a part of the process. We watched videos on Youtube, and looked at online photos of the butanding. I also showed her where Cebu is on the map. I pointed out the tiny island of Sumilon, at the southern tip of Cebu.  We were staying at Sumilon Bluewater Resort which is right across the stretch of water where a group of butandings or tuki come to feed. We arrived on Friday, spent the day relaxing in Sumilon, then we slept early so we can catch an early boat to Oslob's Tan-awan beach at dawn. We chartered a ferry ride at 5 am on Saturday morning. It was still very dark when we left Sumilon's dock. 

Oliver and I waiting to board the 5 am ferry from Sumilon to Tan-awan.

When we arrived at the briefing center in Tan-awan, there was already a long line at the registration desk. We had to queue for a number, then pay the 300 peso fee. Our guide told us 180 pesos goes to the boatmen and 120 pesos is shared by the municipal government and the barangay.  As expected, the Saturday crowd was quite large.  We were there before 6 am, and yet, our group got numbers 41-44. We would have to wait a while for our turn to see the tuki. Most of the paddle boats taken out to sea accommodate 2 passengers, though others can take in slightly bigger groups. When whales are sighted, boats are sent out to meet them, carrying passengers according to the number sequence obtained during registration. Each boat can stay out in the water for 30 minutes, after which they return back to shore to take another batch of viewers. 

6 am. Queueing up to register and pay for our ticket.

There's a briefing on proper behavior when viewing the whale sharks. Only the designated fishermen are allowed to feed them. They cannot be touched. Flash photography is not allowed. Sunblock shouldn't be used as chemicals may harm the fish. The briefing was delivered in both English and Cebuano, as many of the tourists are from Cebu and elsewhere in the Visayas.

The briefing session before heading to the beach. Below: a diagram of
the whale shark code of conduct from Australia.

After registration, we had a lot of time to kill as we waited for spotters to give the much awaited signal that the tuki have arrived. I was chatting with a few spotters, and they were telling me that the whale sharks always come. There's hardly a day when they don't. But after hours of waiting, I had a feeling today would be the exception to the rule.  

Boatmen waiting on the shore, ready to take tourists out to sea.

By 9 am, the spotters were getting antsy too. Eyes were trained on the boatmen out in the sea.  By 10 am, the mood on the beach was somber. The vibe of excited anticipation had given way to graceful acceptance.  One could sniff out the scent of resignation.  The whale sharks did not come. We had to come back again the next day to give it another try. We went back to the resort disappointed. But we couldn't sulk in paradise for too long. Even without the whale sharks, Sumilon island was breathtakingly beautiful. But I was still determined to try to see the butanding. I wanted to be able to tell my daughter her mama swam with whale sharks!

Whale shark spotters waiting for a signal from other spotters out in the sea,

The next day, I received an early call from my sister.  She happened to be in Cebu the same weekend to take her office mates to Oslob as part of their team building.  Her group left Cebu city at 3 am, for the 3 hour ride to Oslob. They were there by 6 am. There was a huge crowd and a long line...and...there was a sighting!!! One whale already showed up for breakfast.  Our group of 4, Oliver and myself, and our 2 travel companions decided to try a different route. We hired a diving boat from the resorts resident dive shop. We were accompanied by Dive Masters Juni and Ran. Diving boats are not allowed too near the butanding so we would be taken as close as permissible, then fin our way to the feeding area where the paddle boats and the rest of the viewers are. Our boat was tethered to a buoy, then we wore our fins and donned our masks and snorkels, and off we went. 

On our dive boat as we headed to the whales.

I was honestly terrified: of the current, the waves, the distance, the number of boats, the many snorkelers swimming around me, with fins flipping on my face...and the divers below...and most of all, the whale sharks!!!!!!  They were swimming around and around... and so close.  Thank heavens I had 2 dive masters helping me. At one point, they had to literally pull me around and tilt my head in the right direction because the whale shark was right next to me, I just didn't see it as I was facing the wrong way.  I stayed as still as possible, worrying that I might hit the gentle giant with my fins if I moved a muscle. It was awesome to see it pass by, from mouth to tail. And I just watched. Which is what I came all the way here to do. To simply watch. To marvel at this graceful animal that is so agile in the water. To remember how small I am. 

Small paddle boats circling two whale sharks. We had to swim in that
direction as our dive boat is not allowed to come near the whales.

There were 2 whale sharks interacting with the crowd that Sunday morning. They were a playful pair. My sister reported seeing gentler and calmer whales two weekends ago when she first went to Oslob. They fed quietly and peacefully, and didn't move around too much. These two, in contrast, were very malikot. They swam about, turned around, and kept moving. Several times I found myself on the path of an oncoming whale shark, as though the shark I was tailing decided to do a U-turn and meet me face to face. What luck! I often thought to myself.  It was so thrilling and terrifying at the same time. One girl ended up "riding" the whale shark because it went directly beneath her. It wasn't her fault really, but the crowd admonished her for it, shouting "Bawal yan" (that's not allowed), "Hwag hawakan" (don't touch), "sakyan daw ba!?" (should you have ridden it?).  While I felt sorry for the embarrassed bikini-clad lass who was unable to get out of the way fast enough, I was happy to see a great sense of collective vigilance.  The boatmen, dive masters, and tourists alike genuinely embraced the rules and generally followed them. There's room for more rules in Oslob. I am sure that given more research, training and education, the major stakeholders (human and non-human) can benefit from sound practices of sustainable eco-tourism.

With Sumilon's dive master Ron who helped me navigate my way through
the chaos of waves, paddles, fins,  outriggers, and whales.

The swim back to our boat was quite taxing. I was already tired, and I found the current rather strong. I had my eyes trained on the dive masters in front of me, but after a while, they seemed to be getting farther and I was beginning to panic. That's when Oliver showed up beside me. He'd been finning behind me the whole time, and he knows me well enough to know when I am tired and in need of support - and that's the way he's been, be it with snorkeling, or with life in general. Seeing him beside me gave me the reassurance I needed to keep soldiering on. This takes me back to 2004, when Oliver and I had just started dating, and he accompanied me on my first dive. Back then I was just reeling in amazement at how beautiful this country is under water. I've always loved this country aboveground, but that's just half of the story. The other half of this country, the submarine half, is just so rich and bountiful, I scoff at being called Third World.  This weekend reminded me of how lucky we are to be home in the Philippines, and to raise our children here.  I can't wait until our children are old enough to take along with us on trips like these.

Ironically, the "no-show" on Saturday made my whale shark experience more meaningful. I know how privileged we were to encounter them at all. These creatures are not in captivity. They are not beholden to anyone. They may come and go as they please. After checking out from the resort, we were ferried one last time from Sumilon island to Oslob.  We took the 12 noon ferry.  The boatmen told us that at that very moment there were 5 whales feeding in Tan-awan beach. What luck for today's tourists.

Wooohoooo! Only in the Philippines!...ok,ok,  I know there are whale sharks elsewhere in the world, but I have a gut feeling whale watching is MORE FUN IN THE PHILIPPINES!