And they say sea travel is for the poor?
HOUSES, cars, gadgets, coffee — things that used to represent the necessities of a civilized society have evolved into symbols of prestige for people.
As travel and tourism were made accessible and affordable to the masses decades back, many have turned to air travel. People are in a hurry to get to their destinations and accomplish something. They want fast travel.
At the back of their minds, though, is an unconscious flex of status, especially for the lower- and middle-class society. Hence the seemingly “random” photos that are, in reality, far from random. The Gen Z’s would call it “humble brag” photos of airport signage, a passport, aesthetically displayed luggage or an idle plane.
And so, ships are left for the rest. The fare is almost less than a quarter of air travel, and you could bring just about anything, for as long as ship security personnel would allow it. Sea travel is for everyone; it’s for the masses, and for the poor.
There are several things that most people do not realize. First, sea travelers have the luxury of time, something that even the wealthy and mighty could not afford.
Ships traveling from one region to another are no longer the rusty, refurbished vessels of yore.
Today, passengers sail onboard ships that are smaller versions of luxury liners or cruise ships.
Imagine traveling with your own shopping mall, salon, spa, hotel, restaurant, café, and bar. You could spend your day/s in endless leisure and relaxation or just sit by the window and watch the world go by, chase sunsets, and reflect on life.
You could bring as much as 50 kilograms of cargo/luggage, your car, your pet, your entire household if you want. You can rest in the cozy privacy of your cabin, or relax with newfound friends.
Then, you arrive at your destination refreshed and relaxed.
Real talk
As someone with her share of local and international air travel, I could not say the same about planes. Many would agree that while we pay so much for speedy travel, it eats more of our time. Leaving home at least three to four hours before flight departure to ensure you would not get stuck in traffic, only to be held for several more hours in the airport due to flight delay.
You queue hoping against hope that your luggage will not exceed the weight limit, and if it does, heaven forbid, which of your items could be the least important to be left behind?
Then there’s the matter of legroom, shrieking toddlers, and the phlegmy cough that is dreaded in enclosed spaces post-pandemic.
Realistically speaking, apart from the speed upon which you could reach your destination, air travel could not offer much in the area of comfort, save if you paid for business class.
Misconception
We have witnessed countless of sea tragedies in the past. Filipinos thus instinctively turned to any form of travel except by sea.
This was confirmed by the Philippine Ports Authority.
People prefer to travel by air than by sea.
Seaports are inconvenient, facilities are lacking, and basically everything is unappealing.
As someone who also had her share of sea travels all through her childhood, I have seen this firsthand.
Dark and dingy piers, porters who seem to run amuck as soon as a vessel berths, livestock clucking just a few feet from passengers, bunk beds on open decks by the railings, corroded hulls, rusty benches, tattered life jackets, tired crew.
Being a ship officer’s daughter, I knew early on that ships are not supposed to be like this. Who would want to travel by sea in these conditions? Certainly not me.
Then 2Go happened.
A change of heart
I was initially hesitant to go when I was told I would be traveling from Manila to Iloilo via sea. A sudden vision flashed through my mind — my friends and I elbowing our way from port to ship, spending days on moldy mattresses, and wiping salty ocean spray on our faces if the journey got rough.
I braced myself for the worst. Then, I was stunned.
We were cordially welcomed at the (very organized and clean) North Harbor in Pier 4, breezed through security procedures, got assisted by orderly and friendly porters, and upon boarding MV 2Go Maligaya, was welcomed by an unexpected sight — a fully carpeted and airconditioned mini grand ballroom surrounded by a salon, KTV rooms, and stores such as Watsons, Kultura, MiniSo, Goldilocks and Brownies. There was even an elevator!
It surely stopped me in my tracks. It was too much for me to take at first.
Then, crewmembers in fuchsia stepped through my line of vision with a warm smile and an offered hand to carry my luggage.
We were escorted to a cabin that could easily pass off as an expansive hotel room, complete with a 32” television and a dining table.
There was even a bathtub, warmed toilet seat and heated water in the comfort room! We were told that meals could be taken in the restaurant downstairs or, if we so wished, they could be delivered to our room.
Heavens!
A coffee shop on the sixth deck with a perfect view of the sea finally did it for me — a place to gather my thoughts and write. Working was easy because you could barely feel the ship moving.
The power of disconnect
Following the advent of cell phones and the internet, I have never seen people deliberately idling their time away.
As the MV 2Go Maligaya sailed through the vast expanse of the sea, its passengers lingered around the grand ballroom.
The absence of the internet was apparent — there was a low hum of conversation grazed by an occasional tinkling laughter. It was a melody of Tagalog, Ilonggo, English and a random conyo banter -- people were actually talking and socializing.
Then there are pockets of silence that are heavy with meaning.
An old man staring out at sea, unmoving, frozen in the seeming gravity of his memories. Two little boys softly gazing at their mother, whose attention was momentarily caught by the sea. A father walking his two daughters, holding one in each hand, his strides slow and small in an apparent attempt to make it “their walk” and not his. A lone traveler in a colorful shirt sauntering around, smiling at no one.
Then there’s a group of Millennial Manileños, struck by the slow descent of the sun — fiery and fat on the far horizon. Sunsets were never like that in the city, they say.
Aboard this vessel, life happens in a slow, steady rhythm. It carried a gift that no business class money could buy — the profound meaning of today and the promise of tomorrow’s adventure.
And yet they say sea travel is for the poor.