My feet treaded the beach, my black flip flops standing out in contrast to the white sand that covered the entire stretch of Santa Fe’s shore. It was a familiar place, having spent a day frolicking on the exact strip with a bunch of crazy people a couple of years before, but this time I was standing there alone. I was back in Bantayan.
When I think about it now, the old me would’ve never considered coming to this place all by myself. After all, when one thinks about going to the beach, it usually involves a party involving at least three heads, unless you’re with a significant other. But a lot has changed in the span of two years and the thought of traveling for hours and getting to this place by plane, bus, and boat no longer bothered me.
After the ferry docked at the port of Santa Fe, I immediately looked for a pedicab/padyak farthest from the pier that would take me to a resort, snubbing the habal-habal drivers who were touting everyone. You see, I hate touts and will make an effort to avoid any contact with them. Eventually, I found a nice man, Kuya Rowell, who also offered a personal tour of Bantayan for the following morning. It was a bit scary, and a breath of fresh air, to interact with total strangers who knew nothing about me except for the fact that I came from the city. In a way, it was sort of liberating.
Even though I initially set a small budget for an overnight stay in Bantayan, I had no other choice but to shell out P1,700 for a room good for two people. The rate is pretty much the same at other decent resorts anyway. At first I thought it was a bit steep for my initial plan of spending less than a thousand pesos for a room, but after the trip was over I realised it was a small price to pay for having a wonderful time at that island. Comfort now beats the budget. That or I’m just getting old. Continue reading