I'm starting this post from a Best Western Hotel in...
Where am I today?
... in Puerto Princesa, Palawan. In the freaking Philippines.
I'm reaching my pinnacle of early morning "where-in-god's-name-am-I-and-whose-house-is-this-anyway?" bewilderment. Mornings are the most disorienting, because I haven't got landmarks like the Eiffel Tower or the Colosseum or that barber who always asked Matt, "Shave? Yes?"
Every. Fucking. Time. Can't a fellow have a beard in peace in this beard-forsaken country?
I know I'm not in Nepal, though. I'm always quite sure of that. Because I'm not roused from painful slumber by one of my Nepali neighbors dredging up all the mucus from his innards and expectorating violently into the sink.
Also, the fact that I don't have to immediately shift to my other side to relieve pressure from a beleaguered hipbone.
My flight from Kuala Lumpur to Manila was splendidly uncomplicated. Even though I'd thrown a wrench into all that uncomplicated by using my US passport when I'd booked the ticket months ago, but my Canadian passport when I actually landed in the Philippines (I'm almost out of pages in my US passport).
No one seemed to notice or care, though.
First stamp in my Canadian passport! WOOHOO! I celebrated as I nabbed Ellie from her carousal. (where she was happily carousing with all the other backpacks). Now I feel legit. Like a proper Canadian. Although I should probably spend more than two weeks road-tripping in Alberta and BC before I go and call myself Canadian...
After a bit of a hiccup finding my friend (we had landed at different terminals and didn't quite realize it until an hour after I'd arrived and had begun to worry), Andrej and I took a cab into Manila, capital city of the Philippines.
As too much drinking had resulted in me... well... losing my dinner from the day before, and as I hadn't been fed on the flight, I was famished. So after Andrej and I checked into our hotel, we bee-lined to a restaurant.
Where there were signs posted everywhere to not share rice.
"Cat, you want some of my rice?"Andrej asked me.
"I don't know if we should risk it..." I looked around furtively.
"Where are the knives, Cat?" Andrej clumsily attempted to cut his fried fish with a fork and spoon.
"There weren't any. I kind of doubt they'll be many knives in this country."
Andrej looked confused and disappointed, but stalwartly fumbled along with his little fish.
I devoured my pork with ease. Because I'm American, and we hardly know what knives are for, anyway.
We spent the rest of the evening strolling around Manila, watching horse-drawn carriages --
-- getting a kick out of excessively long jeep-thingies (automobiles are clearly not my forte) --
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| See? I told you I'm bad with automobiles. I never would have guessed this was a Ferrari. |
Andrej struggled with the traffic.
I chuckled at Andrej for struggling with the traffic. And perhaps gloated a little as I confidently sauntered across lanes of helter-skelter rickshaws, clomping ponies and elongated jeep-thingies.
Nice people don't gloat, Bourget.
Our flight was supposed to leave the next morning at 9:40, but our plane was experiencing mechanical failures (which is always unsettling), so we had to deplane and board another vessel.
Flying over the Sulu Sea is a surreal experience. Peeking out the small plane window and glimpsing the world of turquoise below, speckled with verdant islands with idyllic sandy beaches.
I can't believe this is real.
Andrej and I checked into our room at Best Western and then researched what Trip Advisor had to say regarding the best place to eat.
This is so weird for me. Researching the best food... not just going out and hunting down the cheapest street food that doesn't look like it'll give me explosive diarrhea.
Trip Advisor suggested a restaurant called KaLui.
And it was sublime.
The few weeks after Andrej are always such an adjustment for me. Hehe... I'll go from staying in nice hotels and eating out at spectacular restaurants to staying in a three dollar per dorm in Thailand and surviving off of fried god-knows-what.
But that's part of the magic of my life. How vastly different one week is from the next.
It's exhausting. Disorienting. But pretty savage in how it just forces me to appreciate what I've got when I've got it.
After our gorgeous lunch (which didn't take a lot of effort to appreciate), Andrej and I walked towards the coast.
People don't seem to walk in the Philippines. Ever. They take rickshaws, cars, or elongated jeeps.
"Where you going?" drivers called to Andrej and me, over and over and over again.
"To the beach."
"You need ride?"
"Nope. Thanks, though!"
I love walking, even if a whole city thinks I'm bonkers for braving the heat and taking a stroll. 'Cos If I didn't walk, I wouldn't discover beauties like this:
They had three words after which they could put an exclamation mark. Two options would have worked out just fine.
But they chose the other option.
hehe... DEEP!
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| Pay attention, all my friends with asthma. Find yourself a crocodile, turn him into sisig, and all will be well. |
We had dinner that night at Badajao Seafood Restaurant.
"Haha..." I looked it up on GoogleMaps. "Look, Andrej -- googlemaps says the restaurant is on the sea."
Which is why I always take what googlemaps tells me with a grain of salt. Or with a Kiwi who's fond of asking strangers for directions.
"Cat," Andrej said to me as our rickshaw neared its destination. "I think googlemaps was right. It's on the sea."
We booked a tour to see Palawan's underground river on Saturday morning, so Andrej and I hurried down to eat breakfast before our seven-thirty start.
I discovered bacon at the breakfast buffet. And I nearly cried. It was the first bacon I've eaten since... Scotland?
That was AGES AGO. Bacon... I've been without you for so long. That's devastating. Ach. I want every day to start like this. Bacon... Life is so much better with you around.
Andrej and I were called to the lobby at seven thirty on the dot and introduced to our tour guide, a tiny, energetic woman named Rose.
We loaded into a van with ten other guests. It was only then that we were told how the tour would actually work.
"It takes two hours to drive to the caves. Then it takes two hours to wait until we can get on a motorized boat to take us to the caves. Then we have to wait for a paddle boat to take us through the caves. The actual tour of the underground river is only forty-five minutes."
Wow... you'd think they might mention that in the hotel. Before we're all strapped in and have committed to the adventure.
"You can take a tour of the mangroves while waiting for the boat. It costs 350 pesos per person."
A tour within a tour. Super.
Then Rose then gave us the monkey spiel.
"When you see monkey, do not smile. If you smile, the monkey thinks you are threatening him. So keep your mouth closed. You can drink water on the tour, but do not drink any colored drinks. Monkeys love colored drinks, especially Gatorade. Don't bring food into the park -- the monkeys will take it. Don't put anything in plastic bags because the monkeys are used to tourists bringing food in plastic bags. So they will see the plastic and think food. Then they will take your things. But don't worry about your phones. They don't know how to use facebook or take selfies, so they don't care about them."
That will be the apocalypse. When monkeys take selfies.
"In the cave," Rose continued, "you will be given hard hats to wear. This is not because there are falling rocks. It is because there is falling bat poop. So when you look up, keep your mouth closed. If something lands in your mouth and it is cold, it is holy water. If it is warm, it is holy shit."
Right. Just keep my mouth closed for the next few hours. Sorted.
Andrej and I opted for the mangrove tour to pass the time until our boat for the cave was ready.
The guide was very passionate about her mangroves.
"This is the boy mangrove," she held up a long, pointy seed for us to observe. "The boy mangrove is short and hard," her eyes twinkled mischievously. "The girl mangrove is long and flexible," she bent the girl mangrove into a circle.
Mangrove eroticism. Oh dear.
"This is a peaceful place," our guide emphasized. "Peaceful. No issues. No politics. No crocodiles."
After the mangrove tour, we headed back to the village near the dock to eat a quick buffet lunch. Then (at last) we boarded our boat for the underground river.
We were given headphones to wear in the cave, and listened to a recording about its history as our guide quietly paddled us along.
We also learned the names of the cave's formations. Which seemed to be heavily influenced by religious figures or Chinese vegetables.
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| They would have probably called this formation, "The Last Supper." |
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| This may or may not have been "Chinese Cabbage." |
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| These are the bats. Our audio recording thoughtfully reminded us to keep our mouths closed. |
I mean... it was nice... but "wonder of the world" status feels a bit farfetched. But way to aim high, Philippines.
Andrej and I returned to KaLui for dinner that night, where we feasted on shrimp, fish, vegetables in a coconut curry, ginger soup and fruit served in a coconut with brown sugar and rum.
And we drank wine.
Not the cheap, shitty, Nepali variety.
We shared a bottle of South African Shiraz. Which was not at all hard to appreciate.
My friend and I go island hopping today. Tomorrow, we bus to El Nido. After five days in the famous beach town, we'll take an eight hour ferry to Coron before we fly back to Manila.
Hehe... this life. I just... am so flabbergasted by it and thankful for it all the time.
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