THERE’S always something different when one stays in an island. Maybe it is the isolation or the idea that you can actually travel from end to end in measured time. Stunning sunrises and sunsets come aplenty with the seascapes but a recent work trip to Tawi-tawi offered something more.

We flew to Tawi-tawi from Zamboanga City. Sanga-sanga’s ramshackle of an airport would literally offload cargo and passengers like a bus would except that luggage is placed on a wheeled-cart at the arrival area for passengers to claim unmindful if some are fragile.

From the airport to the poblacion one races with a legion of smoke belching tricycles against the backdrop of the sea and the sacred Bud Bongao or Mt. Bongao.

Bud Bongao sprouts 340 meters above the sea and a must-pilgrimage site for Muslims. Legend says that one of the original preachers to spread Islam in the archipelago has been buried atop Bud Bongao. In current time, the Bud is a biodiversity area and one of the remaining forests of Sulu archipelago. Idang or Aida Tiannok-Jumli of Bongao’s DA says that climbing the Bud would require ‘offerings’ to the guardians of the forest -- the macaques that have become accustomed to tourists.

Idang, just like the rest of the Samas and Tausugs that inhabit Bongao, smile easy and very hospitable that she even meticulously explained each dish she offered us at dinner.

Each meal we had at Bongao was an adventure to my palate -- from the saccharine putli mandi or rolled sticky rice with coco filling called pitis to the spicy hot tiyula itom and sautéed sikad-sikad. Fruits also never seem to run out at Bongao -- durian and lanzones from Jolo, mangis or mangosteen, marang and all sorts of mangoes -- carabao, apple, cebu, wani etc. I found rice at Bongao to taste a bit different only to find out that it might be that of the stock that imported from Malaysia.

We did not go to any tourist hub (if any) at Bongao but instead walked to the public market after work to witness the cacophony made melodious only in a market place. My favorite fish, the Lapu-lapu (grouper) held in high esteem in other markets looked commonplace beside other species I could not name. I was in awe of the chests full of squirming octopuses and another makeshift shallow pool swimming with sea mantis, lobsters and crabs. One seller was shucking red-lipped seashells so quickly like they were just peanuts.

The Chinese Pier that was a few meters away from the public market was likewise bursting with ships loaded with produce from other islands along with dry goods waiting to be transported. Barter trading is common among the islands and the name ‘Chinese Pier’ speaks volumes of who might have hugely influenced the locals. Bongao’s narrow port would have been idyllic save for the thick mantle of plastic bottles, sachets, wrappers, diapers, etc. that lined the bottom of the moored vessels. I imagined that the holy person resting at the Bud peak would have greatly frowned upon this plastic taking the sea while choking from the smoke of the tricycles.