Flights at 7:20 in the morning have no business being a part of vacation.
But 7:20 am flights occur on vacation when flight options are so limited. Like when hopping from one tiny island to another in the Philippines.
After nearly perishing in line behind a couple of confoundedly confused Kiwis (they seem to be following me these days), Andrej and I finally boarded our small plane bound for Manila. We arrived at 8:30, drank a much needed cappuccino, and then booked a taxi to Manila's bus station. Where we planned to find a bus headed to Tagaytay, but while heading to the bus station, the taxi driver convinced us to just let him drive us all the way to our hotel.
We were too tired to argue.
After checking into Carmelence Lodge, I connected to the internet and did the happiest of dances when I found that it functioned at least as well as the Wi-Fi at Easy Cafe in freaking Nepal.
Andrej and I rested for a few minutes, then set off into town to find a view and some lunch. Both of which we chanced upon at Taza Fresh Table, Taal Vista Hotel.
Lake Taal. Is not ugly.
I went against my, "when in a foreign country, eat local cuisine," policy and ordered a mushroom risotto and a glass of cab sauv. 'Cos I'm feeling Europe-sick.
I did not regret this decision. Nor did I regret the cannoli stuffed with ube cream and jackfruit jam that followed.
Pining for something a bit more intrepid than lounging around a lunch table, Andrej and I set out to discover how we might get ourselves to the active volcano in the middle of Lake Taal. As one does.
"Boat tour?" a Filipino man on the side of the road held out a sign.
"To the volcano?" Andrej asked.
"Yes."
"How much?"
"600 pesos."
That's nothing... something must be up. It seems too cheap to be legit.
"Is it there and back?" I tried to clarify.
"Yes, 600 total."
"How do we get to the lake?" Andrej shared my skepticism regarding the cheap price.
"Tricycle," the man and his buddy informed us.
(rickshaws are called tricycles in this country)
"What do you think?" Andrej looked at me.
"It's only 12 euros...Why not?"
They can't make us a fake receipt and run off this time. 'Cos we'll be in the tricycle.
So Andrej and I squeezed into the tiny tricycle and we slowly, bumpily descended the 600 meters to Lake Taal. My poor friend looked immensely uncomfortable as he struggled to keep his six foot frame inside the cramped space for the duration of the haphazard, serpentine, forty-five minute trip.
"It's like Groundhog's Day!" he complained good-naturedly. "Every time we go around, I feel like we're in the same place."
Instead of boating us to the volcano as promised, the tricycle men dropped my friend and me off at a tour agency. Where we were told it would cost another 2000 pesos to get to the island and back, that we'd have to pay a 100 pesos per person entrance fee and that it would cost 500 pesos for a guide. And if we wanted to ride ponies to the top (which the woman very much recommended), that would be yet another 500 pesos a pop.
Andrej and I looked at each other in weary disbelief.
Knew it was too good to be true. The Philippines is a land rife with poor communication and hidden fees.
"What else can we do?" Andrej and I contemplated the sticky situation. "We came all this way."
"And we can't spend two days in Tagaytay and not visit the volcano."
So my friend paid for the boat and we climbed in.
"We knew something was wrong. It couldn't have been that cheap," I pulled on my life jacket and braced myself as the engine roared to life.
We're going so fast! I thought as we sped across the lake. I don't even know if the boat from El Nido to Coron was this fast. Woohoo! We'll be climbing an active volcano in no time.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the serene lake mutated into tumultuous vagabond slayer.
HOLY BANANAS, I grasped the side of the boat between white knuckles. I don't think I've ever been on water this rough. Hehe... good thing I've been practicing my enthusiastic floating.
Wave after wave sent the small boat careening wildly from side to side, soaking Andrej and I within seconds. The boatman attempted to avoid the largest swells, but the little craft continued to lurch and flounder despite his efforts.
I can panic... my chest tightened. I can be annoyed at getting all wet... I can worse-case scenario all this shit and think about capsizing and losing my camera and phone and getting eaten by lake monsters... or I can just laugh. I can find something in which to revel.
The water isn't cold. It's deliciously warm. The wind is bewitchingly wild. I'm on a wee boat in a lake in the Philippines with my Slovenian friend, bound for an active volcano up which I may or may not ride a pony.
What's not to laugh about?
Looking ahead at the volcano through my droplet speckled glasses, I let loose peals of laughter. Our dubious vessel violently seesawed across the lake, and I chuckled until my stomach hurt.
"That was very rough water," our boatman commented when we finally arrived at the volcano.
"Sure was!" I emphatically agreed.
"Do you want to ride a pony, Cat?" Andrej asked me from the ticket counter.
"I mean, I would always like to ride a pony," I replied, game for anything.
So Andrej and I settled into the narrow saddles of two pocket-sized ponies (I apologized to mine for eating such a comprehensive lunch). With a guide holding the lead rope of each pony, we began our journey to the caldera of the volcano.
So far today, I have been transported by two boats, two vans, one plane, one tricycle and a pony.
The path to the volcano oscillated between gentle and steep, wide and narrow. However, it was perpetually dusty, and I found myself having to squint in order to keep my eyes from turning into dirty puddles.
When we reached the top, Andrej and I dismounted and were promptly rushed by two women aggressively proffering gatorade.
Good thing there aren't monkeys around here, I grinned, thinking back to the tour in Puerto Princesa and imagining monkeys swooping down from the coconut trees and nabbing the ladies' gatorade.
"No thanks," I tried to wave off the women.
"Not for you. For your jockey," the woman carrying blue gatorade insisted. "Buy for her."
"Umm..." I looked at Andrej.
"No," my friend shrugged. "We already paid for the guide fee. Let's go up."
"We'll wait for you here, sir," Andrej's guide tied up his pony.
"That was pretty manipulative," I huffed as we hurried up the stairs to the viewpoint.
"Yeah. This is a tour of hidden fees."
Hidden fees and stunning views.
"It's so beautiful, Andrej," I sighed, a little overwhelmed by it all.
"That rickshaw driver forced us into adventure," Andrej laughed.
"I'm glad we're here."
Our boatman had told us to return to the lake by five thirty, so we only had a few minutes near the caldera before skedaddling back down to our pocket-sized ponies.
I was busily snapping some final photos from the saddle when I noticed a Filipino with a wooden pallet perched atop his head quickly approaching. As the path had narrowed, my "jockey" was leading the pony from behind, and saw nothing of the man with the pallet.
If this was one of my thoroughbred mares, I would ask the fellow to please put the pallet down while we passed. Or I would dismount and wait for him before continuing on. But this is a volcano pony. Wooden pallets should be nothing to the likes of him.
However, wooden pallets were definitely something to the likes of my poor, frightened volcano pony. His withers quivered in fear --
Shit.
-- and he frantically scrambled up the steep slope to the left, doing everything within his power to escape that petrifying pallet of death.
Shit, shit, shit. I have no bridle. All I have is a fucking saddle horn. I can't even reach the lead rope from here. All I can do is try not to panic and hold on.
The pony struggled for a moment to find his footing on the slippery hill, then slid down, crashing to his knees, and flinging me and my camera to the hard, dusty path below.
For a moment, I was absolutely terrified.
What if he rolls over and lands on my knee? My miserable right knee to which ALL bad things seem to happen.
What if I break my camera?
My glasses!
My glasses, of course, had been flung from my face during the rather unorthodox descent.
If he breaks my glasses, I'll be BLIND. 'Cos I can't wear contact lenses these days. Shit.
So instead of backing away from the scrambling pony, I reached around and fumbled aimlessly for my glasses, hoping to not get kicked in the face.
Priorities.
My groping hands finally found my frames. Clutching glasses and camera close, I rolled away, stood up, and walked down the slope until I felt safe.
Am I okay? my whole body trembled.
What the fuck just happened? I haven't been thrown from a horse since I was twelve years old.
But girl just got launched off a startled pony down the slope of an active volcano in the Philippines.
... hehe.
"Mum, are you okay?" the jockey hurried to me.
I rubbed the dirt from my glasses and put them on, blinking the dust out of my eyes and wincing at the pain in my neck.
"I think I'm okay. But my camera may be damaged," I sadly noticed a few scratches on the body and the dirt that had seeped in through the cracks.
Guess that's the risk I take when I bring my camera on a pony ride up a volcano.
"Are you okay?" I asked the jockey.
"Yes, mum."
"Is it possible to get back on?" I looked at the pony, who appeared to have calmed down in the absence of the petrifying pallet of death.
"Yes, mum."
"Okay."
I finished the ride in silence.
I'm glad Andrej didn't see that. Poor guy would have been so worried. Last time Andrej came to visit me, I went and fell off the side of a cliff in Mexico. This time, I got myself catapulted down a volcano. Fellow's gonna get, "AIMEE ALWAYS FALLS DOWN SHIT WHEN I SEE HER" trauma.
By the time I met my friend at the base, I had found a way to laugh.
Of course, not re-injuring my knee, seriously damaging my camera or breaking my glasses helped with the laughter.
"What an adventure!" I giggled. "That nuts tricycle ride, the terrifying boat, getting tossed off of my pony... "
We watched the sun's final rays glisten off the roiling Taal as our boat careened across the choppy water.
I hope I can always find a way to laugh through days like today. 'Cos if I couldn't laugh, I wouldn't be able to completely commit to loving a sunset like this. I'd be too busy being irritated about falling off that pony and damaging my camera.
Having sated our thirst for adventure for one day, my friend and I spent the rest of the evening in our hotel room. I took the longest of guilty showers and popped an ibuprofen to soothe the pain in my neck.
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