Islands in the Sun

I was worried about having a tricycle at the other end of the flight to the island of Palawan. I should have worried about the one to the bus terminal. For the first time in our lives, hubby and I were too tall. The tricycle we took to the bus terminal was so short, hubby got a crick in his neck from keeping it bent for the full 30 minute ride. Who on earth rides in these things comfortably? We had been resigned to tricycles that couldn’t fit our hip width, but this was the first time we couldn’t even sit up straight.

The hour and a half bus trip to Manila was luxury, by comparison. We didn’t even get to see the whole movie, it was so quick.  The flight was full, and it took 3 buses to take us all to the end of the tarmac where our plane sat. It has been at least 40 years since either of us has boarded a plane this way! Two hours later, and we had a van at the other end to take us to our next stay in the main city of Palawan. Hallelujah!

We didn’t stay long In the city, as we had heard good things about El Nido, the town at the very northern tip of Palawan. It wasn’t easy to get to, and that usually means less tourists. To our surprise, the grueling 6 hour bus ride over unfinished roads had as many Europeans as locals taking the trip. The main town site was literally wall to wall with young adventure tourists, coming here to dive, snorkel, and to island or beach hop. But because it is so isolated, El Nido has unique rules. Check out number 5 – the one that dictates the time that electricity will be available. This is for the entire town and all surrounding areas. The debate between the two of us is whether this is due to conservation, or lack of supply. Either way, they don’t hold to exact times. Many days went by with no electrical power at all, except what the resort generator could provide.  Despite the advertisement showing air conditioning and hot showers at our resort, we rarely experienced either because of this.

So, it was a good thing that we didn’t spend much time in our room.  This area has islands that jut suddenly out of the ocean with steep cliff walls of jagged black rock that hide lagoons and secret beaches. Island hopping tours are offered everywhere. They stop at the best powdered sand beaches and gorgeous blue lagoons. We were given time to swim, snorkel, or just beachcomb.  My non-swimmer hubby discovered snorkeling, and I experienced swimming with jelly fish. He was delighted. I was not.

In each cove or bay, you could find bangka boats parked just off shore, like large spiders with legs outstretched. These vessels do not have much depth to them, so they can pull up into knee deep water and drop a ladder over the side for us to clamber up on. Then off they would go, taking us to another island to discover a lagoon or cave.  Some caves have to be entered by climbing through a rough hole in the rock. One had an entrance directly off the deep water, much too narrow for a bangka to enter. This perfectly round island was taller than it was wide, but it must have been mostly hollow.  After swimming through the entrance, the cavern found inside was immense, with a hole in the top to let in light.

The tour guides have lots of competition, and go out of their way to show their group a good time. They escorted us into each cave and lagoon, and served us a better lunch on the beach than we could get at a local restaurant. We have found it well worth our money to book several tours while we are here.

We are not rushing these tours. Since we are blessed with lots of time, we schedule a day off in-between. There are so many islands to experience, each unique in its own way. The local government is trying to protect this special ecosystem, if only to encourage tourism. It seems to be working, judging by the amount of Europeans that we saw and spoke with.

We certainly realized that it was a little bit of island paradise.

W

City Adventures

Who knew it could be so hard to leave the mountains.  I don’t mean emotionally, but physically. Turns out, the only buses to leave Banaue for Manila leave at night. So you have to be prepared to ride a bus all night long, trusting the driver to stay alert on mountain curves, just to arrive in Manila before the sun even gets up.

With no other options, we settled onto the bus with a rather large contingent of Europeans. The rice terraces are famous, after all.  It was too dark to see out, probably a good thing at the beginning. But Philippine roads being what they are, it was almost impossible to sleep on the bus. Accelerations and heavy braking was the norm, as the bus negotiated first the curves in the mountains and then the traffic on the highways. Once in Manila, we had to transfer to another bus terminal to catch a ride south for another two hours. In total, we traveled for 13 hours to reach our new destination, 450 kms away.

We are located in a city this time, in a hotel that feels a lot like home. With a clean bathroom with toilet seats and toilet paper (things I used to take for granted), wall-to-wall carpeting, a microwave and a flat screen TV.  Oh, wait. That’s better than what I have at home. It does get hard to remember that we are in another part of the world, at least until we step out the door. Then the noise and fumes, the tricycles and jeepneys, the road side shacks, all combine to remind us.

Now that we are no longer in the farming communities of the north, there are more beggars confronting us. We had two little girls knocking on the window of our restaurant one morning, trying to convince us that they were hungry and needed money for food. It would have been a good ploy, if it wasn’t for the long earrings and gold rings the one girl was wearing. When I pointed them out to her, she covered them up with her brand name sweater, and continued to hold out her hand. The downside of city life, I guess.

For all that this is a big city, there really isn’t a whole lot to see or do here. We’ve walked to the market and around downtown. There is a museum here, but it was very difficult to find it or the tourist information place.  Originally we went to the City Hall, and asked a security guard, who looked blankly at us when we asked where the tourist information was. So we asked about the museum, and he directed us down a major street. We didn’t find the museum. A google search showed it by the capitol buildings, outside of the downtown area. A trip to the capitol buildings involved a jeepney, only because we weren’t exactly sure how to get there. Once on foot, we were told that the building we wanted was “over there” several times, by different people.  We did finally find a tourist information office. For the province, not the city, we were told when we got inside. The city information office was in the town hall.  Huh? We were there once, already. But using our google map on our phone (bless the smartphones!) we realized we were within walking distance and so wandered back to downtown. Back at City Hall, we asked another security officer – the ones to greet you at the door, armed and ready – for the tourist information office. “Why?” he asked. Not wanting to explain the obvious – we are tourists – we just said it was on the second floor, information that the provincial office actually had. He allowed us in. Success! The next treasure on our list was the museum. We got specific information, and headed off to an alley not even a block away. We found the Post Office, which was well signed, and an unmarked glass door into a darkened room. It was the only other choice along the alley. Someone was coming out of the door so we asked if this was the museum. The answer was positive and we entered. A lady on the phone looked at us and said, “What do you want here?” I answered that I wanted to visit the museum, although inside I was really starting to doubt the truth of that. She nodded and went back to her conversation on the phone. Younger staff directed us to take a seat and turned the lights back on. After a few minutes, the staff told us that they were closed for the lunch hour. Oh! There were no hours posted, so we had no idea. We apologized, like good Canadians, and left. The lady in charge was still on the phone. We never did go back.

 

We did take a trip to the beach. This was an hour away by jeepney, which makes it feel longer. There is no maximum seat limit on a jeepney. I’ve seen the front bench seat fit four, but because the old jeeps have a stick shift on the floor the driver had to be in the middle with one lucky passenger beside him against the door. The two benches along the back officially fit 12 on each side, but anyone else that can be squeezed in will be. And then once the benches are full, there is a two-by-four that can be laid across the back entrance for two more people to sit on. Anyone else that wants a ride after that has to hang off the back or climb on to the roof to sit. We made it back to the city, but accidentally got dropped off at the wrong corner. We refused to get on another jeepney, and instead walked the 2 km home. It felt good to stretch our legs.

Fiesta Day came during the week we were staying. Banks and schools were closed, vendors came in from outlying communities, and the population downtown tripled. Thankfully, the police closed the roads for the morning parade, something not every city does. It was a nice break to get away from the traffic and diesel fumes, and just deal with the crowds. The whole city had a party feel to it. There were hawkers with balloons, toys, and baby chicks for sale. To make the chicks attractive to children, they were painted bright colours. 

There was a parade with bands and majorettes and floats for the mayor, a nursery school, and the beauty pageant winners. These floats are wooden platforms built to fit neatly over a small, sturdy old jeep. On top of the platform would be chairs for the participants, on various levels, and usually a wall or roof for decoration. I don’t think they calculated the total heights once everything is fitted onto the car. There are wires that crisscross the streets in splendid chaos, and many of them are sagging. In order to navigate these streets, most floats had at least one fellow standing with a stick to manipulate the wires overhead. Entertainment was everywhere.

We are heading off to a new destination, now. It will involve a tricycle, a bus, and then a plane. If we’re lucky, there will not be a tricycle at the other end, but I’m not holding my breath.

Our life is truly an adventure.

W

Nipa Hut Heaven

 Ever since I met my hubby, he has talked about if ever, someday, maybe, we lived in the Phil, he wanted to build and live in a little nipa hut. Well, we got our chance to stay in one, anyway.

A nipa hut is a little wooden hut, usually on stilts, and with a thatched roof. Ours was only big enough for a double mattress in the middle, and although the peak of the hut was about 10’ high, the centre beam was exactly 5’.   A couple of inches shorter than us.  There are 5 steps that lead up to our door (on stilts, remember?) and the doorway is only 3 feet high. Easy enough to enter if you remember to stay in a crouched position until you are all the way inside the room. Which should be easy for people like us that like to stay in a tent occasionally, right?  Right. However, it is cosy and airy, and close to nature without letting nature get too close to you. Which suits me just fine.

It was an adventure in itself getting here. We left the mountain city of Baguio in the early morning.  My ever efficient hubby had booked us on a bus a day ahead, to make sure they had room on the only bus going to the town of Banaue (pronounced Ben-OW-ee), which was the closest town to our resort. It turned out not too many people actually wanted to go there on a Monday morning, so we got downgraded to a van. Just a normal size van, but they managed to squeeze 11 passengers into it. We were going from one mountain top to another, but had to drive over a couple of them first. We lucked into getting a cautious driver – at least he seemed to slow down ahead of turns and was courteous to other drivers and vulnerable pedestrians – until I noticed that he was texting as he was manoeuvring around the hairpin turns and steep drop-offs. The further up into the mountains, the more the obstacles on the road became unpredictable. Thank goodness that cell service also became unavailable. I had gotten used to tricycles and goats, but now chickens and cows were left to graze whatever side of the road took their fancy.  And since the grass is always greener on the other side, they were constantly crossing over in front of us. The entire trip to the town was less than 200 kms, but it took 6 and a half hours. It reminded us of the caribou's crossing our path in Alaska.

But the best was yet to come. In the town we transferred to a tricycle, my most favourite of vehicles, to be bumped and jostled for another half an hour over a muddy, rutted road along a mountain side. Washouts and landslides were common. Despite my doubts, we survived the 30 minute trip.

Our resort has an incredible view. We have another little community directly below us on a river, and there are rice terraces right in front of us. They start out big and wide beside the water’s edge, and as they slowly climb the mountain sides, the terraces change with the terrain, creating flowing art deco designs. We had seen terraced gardens on the ride here, but the difference is in the scale. The rice terraces of fame use whole mountain sides.

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We got a chance to see the full scope of terraces in the town of Batad. It just takes a lot of work to get there. Our 8 am jeepney bounced us over an assortment of concrete roads interspersed with muddy, rocky sections where, again, the road had either been washed out or a landslide took it out. Eventually the concrete just stopped altogether. After an hour and a half of this, we were dropped off at the peak and our guide indicated the path we were to take down to the valley. We had 2 choices: 500 meters of gentle grade, or 413 steps – no handrail – straight down. Due to my high degree of personal safety, we took the gentle grade. It was quite the sight to see young men with 80 kilograms of full water bottles balanced on their shoulders running down the stairs that I had refused to either go up or down. I would have taken a picture, but man! They moved fast! The bottom of the steps still only got us one quarter of the way down to the town site. 

We had the option of continuing past the town site and onto the terraces and even beyond to a waterfall.

After seeing the panorama of terraces around us, of course we wanted to get closer. The terraces are diked with stones and mud, at heights of more than 10 feet tall. Not only were the terraces formed by hand, but even today they can only be worked by hand. It is impossible to get a rotor tiller or even a water buffalo down the steps to each terrace. Our guide wanted to take us to the waterfall below the terraces, but as the hike involved balancing along the top of the dikes, with the 10’ drop on one side, I am afraid I bailed. Hubby continued on and told me it was a wise choice as the hike involved further challenges lower down. By the time he came back and we slogged back uphill to the jeepney, it was late afternoon. We were grateful for a shower and hot meal when we returned to the resort.

We spent 3 nights in the nipa hut, and by then I was a little more proficient at getting in and out. Staying in the mountains has been great exercise for us, which my legs remind me of every time I climb the stairs to my bedroom. Our next stop is a hotel inside a city south of Manila, and I understand it has every amenity.

Too bad.  I was enjoying our nipa hut and the incredible view of the terraces and the mountainsides.

W

City on the Mountain Top

My ever organized hubby is having a hard time dealing with what is locally known as “Filipino Time”. This is the exact opposite of a “New York Minute”.   It’s more like the Mexican “manana” - in other words, it may happen tomorrow.

We prepared to leave the beach resort and move into the mountains. The time of leaving was discussed with the resort owner and we were convinced to leave a little later than planned, so we could get a free trip to the bus. Well, later turned out to be, well, later. We had to wait for a certain employee to arrive, who was late, and then for him to get ready and then get the tricycle prepared, and for the resort owner to get ready as she was accompanying us to town….etc. By the time we reached the bus station, our number one choice of bus was already gone. Number two choice meant changing buses in the next city.  But off we went, and the transfer to the next bus went smoother than expected.

Or would have if that bus hadn’t sat for almost an hour in traffic and then had issues with its transmission. Traffic was unbelievable in the city. Despite our driver leaving no more than one foot of space between us and the van in front, motorcycles and pedestrians would press in between. So even if traffic did move, we didn’t. It took over 45 minutes to move just 1 kilometer.

So we changed buses again, luggage and all, and it was probably the best in the end. If the second bus had transmission problems in the city, it never would have made it to the top of the mountains. The road was steep and winding, and with other heavy trucks and smaller vehicles on the same two lane road, gears were shifted often. The view was spectacular with mountains and valleys all around and the occasional glimpse of the coastline far below.

Our hotel was in a beautiful location, right beside one of the biggest parks of the city. We were on the 5^th floor and had a great view of downtown. It was New Years Eve when we arrived, and so we took a quick shopping trip for food and wine and settled in.

The park below us was filled with people.  There were children with horns and noisemakers, teenagers with firecrackers, and hundreds of adults. They were getting ready for a party, and we had the best seat in the house. As I do every year, I wanted to stay up until midnight, but had little hope of succeeding.

However, at 10:30 there started to be fireworks across the city. It started out sporadic, a colourful bloom in the night sky here and there, always accompanied by the startling bang of gunpowder. It was not always in the same place. There are no safety requirements for fireworks here, so almost everyone had a display in their own backyard, or on the streets.  We even saw people in an apartment down the road set some off from their balcony.  The pyrotechnics became more and more frequent until 11:30 when the larger hotels and malls started with their own spectacular shows. Then it was a constant light show, all across the skyline of the city. I have never seen anything like it. I couldn’t turn my head fast or far enough to see everything. It only started to slow down after 12:30, but the younger groups continued with their noisemakers. Bags of firecrackers would be thrown out into the street, stopping traffic for several minutes. I was grateful we had a solid window on our balcony door to close out the noise, however slightly.

We were out early the next morning, and I was very surprised to see how quickly the cleanup had been done. The people paid to be street sweepers were working hard and garbage bags were all piled along the curbs.

Baguio City is located right on the top of a mountain. Because it has an elevation of 5000’, it is a favorite spot for Filipinos in the hotter summer months. It is cooler than the valleys and lowlands, but far from cold.  Kind of like San Francisco, you are always going either uphill or down and so it’s a great place for walking.  My hubby spent his university years here, but after 40 years, there was little to recognize in the city other than the slant of the main street. So we got to discover it together, doing the museum, the market, and all the tourist spots.

It is going to be a little longer before we come down out of the clouds, but we will be leaving the city shortly. As much as we have enjoyed Baguio, we are looking forward to seeing the wilder side of the mountains.

W

Hundreds of Islands

There is a national park on Luzon Island of the Philippines. Ironically, for a nation that consists of more than 7100 islands, they call this the Hundred Islands Park. These islands are located off the western coast, and when you see them silhouetted against the backdrop of the mountains on the mainland, you can be forgiven for thinking that they are just underwater foothills. In fact, these numerous small islands are made entirely of coral. It is amazing that trees and bushes could grow on the jagged, dark rock. A person certainly can’t walk on any of these undeveloped islands without risking serious harm to oneself. The sharp, crevassed rocks can be merely the ceiling of an unseen underground cave, and a hole could open up anywhere. Only three of the islands appeared to have any development on them. One was merely a set of stairs leading to an overlook where you could get a view of the area. Of course, it had its prerequisite venders to sell you anything from ice cream to a bottle of water after you ascended the 120 steps. A second island that had a lovely sand beach was walled and cemented to allow picnic shelters and walkways.

  We were able to hire a boat man and his “crew”: a 16 year old boy, who only looked 12, who used a long, heavy bamboo pole to move us into landings and jumped off the boat unto the coral in his bare feet. They piloted us around the islands and pointed out the interesting features. And they patiently put up with my decidedly ungraceful boarding of their narrow boat.







 The boat, or “bangka”, was only wide enough to sit one person in front of the other, and long, which meant the tiny diesel engine could move it along quite fast. To keep such a thin craft stable, it had outriggers made of bamboo. I could have used an outrigger for myself.

In among the islands were two that are unique. One is called Monkey Island, and is inhabited by monkeys in the trees. We weren’t allowed close enough to see what kind of monkey they were, and we couldn’t see any because our guide said that at 10:30 it was too late in the morning. Since we left the resort at 7:30 and it was only 34 kms away, I was disheartened.  It seems the monkeys come to the tops of the trees in the early mornings and evenings when it is cooler. Once the sun is out they take shelter in among the shade.

 The other unique island was Bat Island, and again, the name describes the inhabitants. These we could see very clearly although we were a good 200 meters off shore. The huge bats hung by the dozens off the branches of the trees, frequently flapping their wings to cool themselves. At 10:30, it was already hot. If they hadn't been flapping, it would have been hard to distinguish them from dark, dead leaves hanging straight down from the branches.

We bypassed the busy picnic island to find a small but private cove for our lunch. The beach was not made of sand, but of tiny sharp pieces of coral, which is probably why no one else wanted it. We loved the privacy, though, and enjoyed a dip and lunch with our guides in the shade of the rocks. The water was clear and warm and we enjoyed a swim even though we had to wear flipflops to protect our feet. We explored as far as we could walk, wading a little around outcroppings and crouching to get into small caves. Coral pieces and shells were everywhere, but our young crewman still walked around in his bare feet.

We headed home early, tired from the fresh sea air and the 120 step climb. We had a new destination in mind for the next day.

Only a half hour walk from our resort was an attraction called “The Enchanted Cave”. The promotions promised everything from stress relief to skin whitening – a famous claim in the Philippines. After walking a half hour, one needs stress relief. Every empty tricycle going by slowed down prepared to pick us up, erroneously assuming we were not walking for pleasure, because nobody here does. All other fuel powered vehicles thundered by at speeds not recommended for the very narrow road we were on. We were more than ready to stop when we arrived at the gate, paid our entrance fee, and were escorted into the grounds.

We hadn’t known what to expect. We were told to be prepared to swim, but hey, we were on the beach. But instead our guide led us to a large coral formation, up several cemented stairs, and then down a very narrow, very steep stairway to the cave.

 At the bottom of the cave was a pool, a beautiful blue green colour, with clear, clean water.  We were surrounded by coral. The guide told us we could swim, but first we had to go back up the steep stairway to get to the changerooms. Already hot and sweaty from the walk, we eagerly went up the stairs. Our guide then followed us back to the pool and watched us as we frolicked in the cool water. We were amazed at the depth and clarity. We could swim right into smaller niches and under the overhanging coral. Even better, after our swim we could get lunch and a beer at the concession stand, and relax in their hammocks for the afternoon. Our skin wasn’t any less tanned than before, but the stress was undoubtedly gone.

Good thing, because we were back on the bus system the next day headed to Baguio for New Years.

W