A feast at sea
Our first day was already worth the trip. Let me correct myself — our first morning. Because by 10:30 a.m. we saw a massive stingray, affable turtles, lots of sharks, and just when we thought we couldn’t think of any more color combinations or kinds of fish… nature never ceased to amaze us.
Oh! And dolphins. Almost every day we encountered dolphins — a true sign of friendship from God and nature. We would go out on the boat to chase them; they swam happily alongside us, putting on a jumping show in pairs and trios. Without fear, mask on and nothing else, I jumped in the water listening to their song, watching for a brief moment five of them dance in the near distance. On another occasion we saw some of them spinning in the air not far away. As we approached, 50 of them simultaneously leaped from the water, surrounding our boat with beauty and cheer. This is Tubbataha.
It was a trip long in the making, a year and a half back. Tubbataha is not for the faint of heart: a minimum of five days lost at sea, on a boat with absolutely no contact with the outside world save for a radio and a sat phone. No Twitter, no Instagram, no BBM, no Facebook, no e-mails, not even a plain old phone call except in case of emergency. You are also stuck on a boat with the same people for five days. Cabin fever can creep in after 30 minutes if personalities start to chafe. And the most terrifying thought of all: you have no choice for food. You eat what you are fed. Or you starve. I can deal with people. I enjoy being cut off from reality. But to have no other options and go five days with lousy food? That’s a truly scary thought. Oh, and to run out of wine? Let me walk the plank now.
Everything that we had in our power to control we did so wonderfully. I couldn’t have asked for a better bunch of dive buddies. Not one ounce of drama or boredom. I had brought along Robinson Crusoe, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Treasure Island and Moby Dick. I also packed 18 bottles of white and rosé. Which I sincerely thought for 12 people was too little and had mini anxiety attacks when we wiped out eight bottles our first night. As much as I wanted to bring tons of food on board it was physically impossible. Armed with some cup noodles, boxes of chips and some prosciutto and Brie, I comforted myself with the fact that, well, we were there to dive and not to eat.
And yet the whole conundrum was when you dive, you get ravenous. At the end of each dive, after seeing some spectacular sharks and a rainbow of sea life, those plump and friendly sweet-lips and grouper start to look really juicy. Ooh, or that giant lobster in all its colorful regalia… As I futz about the reef during our safety stop, I begin to imagine how those fish cheeks would puff up like a cloud steamed with some scallions. Or perhaps the soft, tender flesh of the lobster would be nice to take apart with my hands… Fortunately and unfortunately, you’re not allowed to fish in the protected marine area. You’re safe for now, my little lobster friend. But the fate of my hungry belly is left to the mercy of our boat Oceana Maria and its crew.
Hands down, it was by far one of the best experiences of my life. The crew was efficient and friendly but never intrusive. Our accommodations were more than comfortable. Each cabin had its own bathroom, which was quite frankly much larger than my student housing in London where you could literally sh*t and shower at the same time. Our dive gear was always perfect, ready to go. Stories were freely exchanged, jokes thrown around and laughter constantly in the air. And our food was fantastic.
Our first dinner there set the bar. And once again I find myself chewing on my foot. Because aside from the gorgeous pieces of steak being grilled up on the side they had garlic crabs, which I happily sunk my elbows into. Each day was a feast. We started with fruits, toast and some Vache Qui Rit before our first dive, then were offered a second breakfast Hobbit-style. Hearty rice, eggs, every kind of junk food, delicious Pinoy goodness: sausages, Spam, corned beef, crispy pusit, danggit, tocino, bangus, longganisa… It was the dream breakfast. Then lunch would be equally amazing. They served up goodies like chicken curry, Korean barbecue beef, steamed fish in soy. One day it was sushi rolls, tuna sashimi, tempura and enoki miso soup. Merienda was steamed siomai, banana-cue or siopao. Dinner consisted of chap chae, beef kaldereta, sweet and sour fish, asparagus and chicken soup, always-fresh salad greens, grilled prawns, grilled lobster, squid ink capellini… how lucky could we be?
Nothing, however, beats a simple barbecue on the beach. Perfectly grilled squid stuffed with tomatoes and onions. Nice pork liempo, slightly sweet with that gorgeous charred fat, nice and crisp. Or the most amazing grilled chicken ever. Because it was perfectly cooked, absolutely sauce-less and eaten in one of the most beautiful places on earth surrounded by some amazing people.
Our skin is tight from the sea and sun. The boat’s motor has shut off, leaving us with nothing but the sound of silence and soft ripples of water. We drift slowly towards the shore over corals and crystalline waters. In the distance a gentle smoke wafts in the air from a makeshift barbecue. The sky is blue, the sand is white and between the glassy sea, the ivory clouds and painterly rays of the sun, you can’t tell where heaven meets earth and sea. Night fell on us as the moon rose dancing with the setting sun. The sky filled with stars and I lay, back on the sand. The breeze blew over me, the smell of sea and coal, the sound of happy chatter … I could swear I felt the earth spin on its axis, moving across the universe. On this small island, void of all the trappings of modern life, nothing exists except nature, good food and friendship. The most essential gifts of God.
