There have been delays in boat repairs,
so we've had to stay in Carmen, Cebu an extra month. We've been here
for exactly 2 months now, which is frankly, more than enough time for
my feet to start itching to land on some new sites again. Okay, maybe
I have a bit of ADD there, but for as long as I can afford it, I'll
take it. I'll worry about what to do when the time comes that I can
no longer hop around from place to place. For now, what we did choose
to do while waiting for repairs to finish, was to hop on a plane to
Subic Bay, in northern Philippines. We decided it would be our only
opportunity to experience the Survival Camp being offered there, and
up our skills a bit in the Tarzan department.
Jungle Environmental Survival Training
Camp (JEST Camp) offers a choice between a one-day seminar on
survival and a 3-day boot camp, led by the Aetas (Philippine
aborigines) – the same people who trained the U.S. Army and Navy
for the Vietnam War for survival in the tropical jungles. Of course
we chose the 3-day boot camp! What could be better than a simulation
of what it's really like to survive in the jungles, right?
I packed a sweater, a couple of shirts,
a pair of shorts and pants, some underwear and a toothbrush, insect
repellent, a book to read, and a camera for pictures – oh, and some
toilet paper, because I didn't like the idea of wiping my...you
know...with leaves - and patted myself on the back for my ability to
bring only the bare essentials. But when we got there, we were told
that we couldn't bring anything at all, except the clothes on our
back and a machete each, which the camp provided for us.
“Realistically, when you're in a survival situation, you wouldn't
exactly have toilet paper or a fresh change of underwear, now would
you?” they annoyingly told us. So all that well-planned packing
flew out the window...or rather, into the camp's cabinets.
I couldn't even bargain to bring my
cigarettes, even though I reasoned that typically, in a survival
situation, I bet I would have my cigarettes with me; so I filled my
lungs instead, with as much nicotine as I could before we started
off. I felt confident the first couple of hours into the jungle trek,
that I could do without a smoke for the next 2 days; that I had the
willpower. But as the day wore on, I started to feel the craving more
and more; especially as tiredness and boredom started to set in.
There were 6 of us who signed up for
the camp: Ali, my brother Joh and me, a Canadian guy named Chris, and
an American guy named Bruno, with his Filipina partner, Gretchen. We
hiked up and down the hills for hours, starting in the late morning,
with none of us knowing when it would end, nor where the destination
was. The guide gave us little treats of Yam leaves along the way
though, and taught us how to use our machetes for cutting bamboos and
vines that contained water (sometimes in droplets, sometimes in short
gushes). “How hard is it to cut wood with a machete?” we all
arrogantly assumed. We were wrong about that. While the guide
expertly chopped bamboo in two or three strokes, we barely scratched
it after a few hundred hammerings, and on finally breaking, the wood
was a frayed mess under our panting, sweaty faces and sore arms.
Apparently, using a machete required more technique than
brawn...though of course, it did require a certain amount of
endurance and blisters too.
(picture above: our survival instructor teaching us to climb the Yam tree for food)
Further on, the guide stopped in front
of a particular cluster of bamboos and started chopping one of them
up. There were bats the size of a man's thumb inside the hollow
trunk. He said that the holes in the bamboo were signs of bats'
homes, but warned us that they could also be snakes' homes. He pulled
the bats out of the trunk one-by-one. “This is dinner,” he stated
matter-of-factly. Right, of course. He gathered the bats carefully
into another bamboo trunk, about a foot long, which he carried
thereafter, to get the bats safely onto a plate later on. One bat got
away, and in our hunger – we hadn't had anything except a quick
breakfast before camp hours ago, and some leaves along the way,
besides that we were tired and thirsty - we all admittedly felt our
heart sink at one less piece of bat-be-cue (which we fondly started
to call it).
(picture above: roasted bats for dinner!)
After even more grueling trekking, we
eventually reached a stream, and got down to cutting our own pieces
of bamboo for cups to fill with water. It was another challenge, as
we tried to cut out bamboo cups without breaking them with the blows
of our machetes. It took a good hour before we all finally found our
techniques and gained our prized cups for the thirst-quenching water.
Later on, after a painful hike upward (by this time, our bodies were
weak from the nonstop trek and bamboo chopping, and absence of food)
we reached the top of a large hill, sweaty and short of breath, but
refreshed by the beautiful top view of the jungle at the edge of the
cliff. We had a nice few minutes of picture-taking after catching our
breath. Gretchen had snuck her camera along with her. “Damnit I
knew I could've brought my cigarettes!” was what I said to that.
After the short rest, we continued the trek again, and finally
reached our campsite .
We just wanted to sit down and rest,
but instead, were taught how to build forts, because we couldn't
waste any time since signs of rain started to appear in the clouds.
So we started to build our forts for the night, with everyone quietly
cutting at bamboos and tying up ends together with vines that served
as our ropes. The forts were elevated, because there was a bit of
danger in sleeping on the ground, with scorpions and snakes and such.
Giant leaves were used as well, for extra protection from the rain
and “cushion” for our beds. It took a good afternoon of
consistent tree and wood chopping before we finally finished. We were
exhausted and dirty when we did finish, and dusk had come by then;
but we did welcome the short rain shower that cooled us, and felt a
nice little sense of achievement at having built our sturdy bamboo
forts. Then, as if we hadn't just spent a whole day trekking and
building houses, we had to march down the hill to another stream
about 30 minutes away from camp, to gather water to take back with
us, in long bamboo trunks (YES, it's all about bamboo) – and then
took another (by this time, excruciatingly painful) 30-minute hike
uphill back to camp.
The guide then taught us how to make
fire, which I thought was the coolest part - no matches, no flints,
just bamboo cuttings! - so we had a bonfire going for the rest of
the night. I have to say that gas stoves, and even coal pits that
employ matches, are decidedly magical, convenient tools, after trying
to build a fire from just wood. It took at least more than 2 hours
just to collect wood, get a fire going, and finish cooking. There was
no such thing as 30-minute meals here, no matter how simple the meal;
30 minutes is only the time it takes to start a fire...and that's
with an expert guide along too.
(picture above: instructions on building a fire with bamboo)
We cooked up a supper of bat-be-cue and
steamed veggies in soup, using – guess what - the bamboo trunks for
our pots. The guide had brought a bit of rice with him, as well as
some onions and ginger to make our meal tastier, but none of us were
about to complain that “typically, in a survival situation, you
wouldn't have rice with you”. No. We kept our mouths shut. As it
was, we were about to have a meal fit for 2-3 people, and there were
8 of us there; including the guide, and his handy-assistant son, who
spent more time texting on his phone than assisting his dad, really.
I don't know if it was because of complete hunger, but we got a bat
each, and it tasted just like chicken! It took all of one bite to eat
the tiny thing, but I decided to make mine last a little longer by
finishing it in two bites. We also got a bit of a treat with some
Banaba tree bark boiled for tea, and fallen beans we had gathered
along the trails for coffee. With stomachs no longer growling – but
not exactly satisfied, either - we sat by the fire quietly, preparing
to relax for the night. But apparently, it wasn't time for bed yet.
Our leg muscles already sore and shaky,
we once again set off down the hill for the stream; this time, to
catch our meal for the next day in the critters that came out at
dusk. The moon was full – and due to be the biggest one this year –
so there were no frogs to be found. But we did manage to find a few
crablets and shrimps, and one fish the size of a hotdog, after a
couple of hours of hunting. On occasion, the guide told us, they
caught a chicken or a wild boar, but none were found while we there.
Later, the guide asked us why we didn't bring anything with us at
all. We of course told him that we weren't permitted to. He then said
that we were one of only a couple of groups in the history of the
camp who hadn't insisted on bringing any of our stuff with us –
people usually put up a fight just to bring their camping gear,
including some canned goods, most probably with the simple statement:
“Hey, we're paying for this!” So now he tells us.
Ali, being the only one among us
wearing shorts, was attacked violently on his legs by mosquitoes, so
he'd had to cut the sleeves off his sweater, to act as long socks for
his exposed lower legs. That did the trick, but left him with a
tattered, short-sleeved sweater. That practically-brand-new sweater
sacrificed itself because we had no other belongings with us.
We groped our way back in the dark,
armed with our next meal and a few more heavy, giant leaves that we
could use for additional roofs, and which I at one point, wanted to
throw away to make my hike back up the hill a little easier.
Completely fatigued from the laborious day of lugging things
back-and-forth and up-and-down, thirsty from having nothing but
rationed water, hungry from lack of food, and attacked by hideous
armies of giant mosquitoes, we finally got to lie in our forts to
call it a night. But the ordeal was still far from over. The hard,
uneven bamboo flooring made our muscles ache even more (the “cushion
leaves” did nothing, except stain our clothes), and the mosquitoes
buzzing relentlessly in our ears and biting every little inch of
exposed skin on us led to sleeplessness. We all took short naps and
got up restlessly by turns, cursing the hour we'd decided that
signing up for the camp was a good idea. In the end, we hoped for
daybreak to relieve us of having to sleep. It was the longest night
of our pampered, cushion-hugging lives. Prior to this camp, I thought
I'd already been living a fairly simple life by contenting myself
with vegetable meals, some clothing, a low-paying job, and travel.
Ha! Think again, Janis.
How we could then appreciate everything
that we already had back home, I can't even describe! Even tiny
grains of cooked rice that fell out of our plates during meals were
hurriedly saved from the ground and popped into our mouths like the
most precious commodity in the world. And they were, during those 3
days!
(pictures above: our much-awaited chow times)
We both wished for and dreaded the next
day. We wished for it, so that we'd get closer to going home, and we
dreaded it because we doubted we had any more strength to go through
what we did a second time. We had no choice but to endure it though,
and so we did. Gathering what reservoir of strength we had left, we
all set off. A lot of silence took place during camp, because even
talking took up too much needed energy. Believe me, we all wanted to
chat, just to make time pass quicker and distract ourselves from the
tiredness, especially while we did our hours of trekking...and we
tried...but it only left us weaker and gasping for breath even more.
But the next day turned out to be a little more pleasant than the
first. We gathered some more edible leaves along the way for the next
meal, and by late morning, ended up at the waterfalls. We were able
to fill our parched mouths with the fresh water, and then started
gathering wood for fire, and cooking our crabs and shrimps, veggies,
and rice. We spread out some giant leaves and dumped all the food in
the middle, and dug in hungrily. We were too tired to chop up another
set of bamboo plates, so we all shared the food in the giant
leaf-plate instead. After the meal, we jumped into the waterfalls,
excited for our first bath. I could not, for the life of me, get the
vine sap off my arms and fingernails, so they stayed. But even a
soap-less bath felt like a luxury...even if we had to put the same
dingy clothes back on after that. You'd be surprised though, that
there is actually a bark of a particularly tree that produces
fragrant suds of “soap”, which we also used the day before to
wash our hands. But it involves a great deal of pounding with a big
rock before you can use it, which is why we decided to do without it
during our bath. Energy-saving became our objective.
We were afforded a noontime nap before
we set off again. Ali and I rested on a bench, but a minute later had
to move because the noontime sun was scorching us. Other benches
around were already taken, so we took a bamboo bed a little up a hill
that someone had made before. Just when we'd gotten ourselves
comfortable, the bed broke and crashed onto the ground. I didn't know
whether to laugh or cry, but I decided that the irony of it all did
merit a good laugh, if nothing else.
On the next leg of the trek, still
feeling weak but a little more refreshed, we passed through a fern
valley, and instead of lying on the soft comfort of the grass, we
picked handfuls of ferns for supper. If you're beginning to think
that survival seems to consist quite a bit of finding food for our
next meal and cooking it, you're right. We spend hours searching for
food, and hours building the fire and cooking. Then again, we also
spend hours hiking for a good campsite, and even more hours chopping
wood for our forts and our fire. Then we sleep (or at least try to).
On the way to our next camp destination, though, we were also taught
which of the plants acted as medicine for both minor and major cuts.
We used those leaves right away for nothing short of a good few
scratches on our arms from branches and thorns.
The next site was a great relief to us,
as it was right beside a river; no more long, arduous treks,
gathering and carrying jugs of water back to camp, while we
painstakingly balanced the open top-end of the bamboo to keep
precious water from spilling out of it, while keeping an eye
on our path because hidden vines on the leaf-covered jungle floor
easily tripped us like sneaky rascals, and while evading
the millions of branches that scraped our faces and threatened our
water to spill along the way (Yes, even water was that hard to
procure).
The scenery at the next camp site was
quite breathtaking, with the mountains, the peaceful gush of the
stream, the whistling birds, and the handsome, gigantic trees
scattered everywhere. While I pondered on how to build my next fort
the easiest possible way and the American-Filipino couple got to work
on theirs, Ali, Chris, and my brother Joh had a long discussion about
sleeping on leaves on the ground right by the fire, where no insects
or mosquitoes would likely come close. There was a small bamboo
bedding already available there from past groups, so I took that and
started building a roof for it. Ali decided to join me, and we got to
work chopping up the wood. Later on, I saw Joh and Chris come back to
camp carrying ready-made bamboo mats, which they had found from an
abandoned indigenous village nearby. “Work smart, not hard,” Joh
said with a victorious smile. He and Chris spent the rest of the time
lounging by the river, while the rest of us tried to finish our
forts.
(picture above: hanging at our little abode)
That night, we had snails, vegetables,
and the last bit of remaining rice for our meal. To our relief, there
was to be no more trekking, so we sat by the river, and then by the
campfire, eager to go home the next day. We talked mostly about what
food we would eat, once we got back to civilization. In fact, most of
our conversations during the whole camp revolved around food. It was
another long night before dawn finally showed up again. But after the
first night, I decided to willfully ignore my aching bones on the
hard, bumpy bamboo, just to get some sleep. Once or twice, Ali woke
me, saying, “It's almost morning,” only to crawl back into bed
upon realizing that it was only the full moon brightening the sky to
make it look like the first signs of dawn have appeared. Then,
finally, dawn really arrived, and with a last burst of adrenaline,
everyone got up quickly for the last long hike back home.
First thing I thought of on our trek
back to society was the pack of cigarettes waiting for me. A victory
smoke would definitely be in order! I did also congratulate myself
for having endured 2 days without a cigarette. On the first night, I
desperately stuffed a thin bamboo stalk with dried leaves and lit it
with the fire, but the leaves just wouldn't keep burning; so I
contented myself with pretending that the stick was an actual
cigarette, and blew invisible puffs of smoke into the air. Halfway
back to the camp office, we were picked up by an army truck - a
rescue simulation - and we got to stand at the back of it, relishing
the nice breeze that blew in our hot faces. If you'd have seen us,
you would've thought we were a pathetic-looking bunch of refugees who
had just won their ticket to freedom after years of war – and it
felt that way too.
So we got to have our nice showers,
soap and everything. We had chips, pasta, chicken, pizza, sausages,
and everything else we could get our hands on. I had my victory
smoke. And at night, we each slept soundly on our nice, cushioned
beds. We had all the things that we so often took for granted, and we
had them with a gratefulness that far exceeded any we'd ever felt
before. But interestingly, jungle life took its place in our hearts
too; and we spent some time sharing the experience with each other.
In the jungle, we discovered that just
when we thought we had no more strength to give, we always did. We
discovered that the power of the mind, when focused on the task at
hand, was indeed what dictated what the body could yet do. We
discovered that we could survive off very little, and that anything
more than that was in fact, a luxury. We spent no time arguing or
designating roles on tasks, because each of us simply did what we
could for the good of all – no ego, no confusion...just results.
Our energies and efforts were focused on getting the essentials of
food, water and shelter, instead of wasted on trivial things like
“How do I look?” or “How do I smell?” or “I'm tired/hungry,
etc.”
A day in the jungle feels like a few
days, and two days feels like a week, which is why, though fatigued,
we gladly poured our efforts into work, to make the hours fly faster.
At night, we had free time to kill because we knew that if we slept
too early (around 9pm), we would surely be up even before dawn, from
bed discomfort combined with just enough sleep to take the tired
snoring away that we so badly wanted; so we sat watching the fire
sizzle and listening to the peaceful croons of the jungle until full
exhaustion could take over, enough for us to sleep through
discomfort.
In the jungle, despite that life was
hard, it was also simple and pure, and stripped of the confusion and
trivialities of modern society. We bonded in the silence and we
bonded through work and cooperation. We felt closer to one another in
3 days than people normally do in a month, because we shared the same
experience of hunger and fatigue, and we bore it all together. We
looked out for one another, and we boosted each others' morale so we
could all keep going. This is what stayed with us.
(picture above: reward = food fest at the resto!)
Would I do it again if I could? Oh,
hell no! It wasn't fun, it was a learning experience filled with
bruises, blisters, and mosquito bites. But should a time come when we
are stranded in a jungle setting, I have a very good idea what it
will be like now, and I can say that we all walked out of that camp
armed with more knowledge and confidence in our ability to survive.
Some things in life aren't fun; but that doesn't mean they shouldn't
be experienced. And let me end with a popular quote that couldn't be
more perfect for the boot camp experience: “What doesn't kill us
only makes us stronger.” I sure feel stronger. I have forfeited the
right to complain that a walk to the corner store is too far, or that
most of our things still don't come with a remote control. If
anything, it's more fun to know “You can”...and even, “You can
do without.”
(P.S. A big thank you to Gretchen for being the one behind the camera, supplying us with the memories!)
