My Surprise Sidetrip to the Phillipines

Sidetrack to the Phillipines-(aka South Africa Month 2)
I was pretty sick with a nasty case of... let’s say intestinal irritation for most of the month I spent in South Africa, so for this one, I’ll focus on my time in the Phillipines.
In this episode, I...
-inexplicably go to the Phillipines
-“Pole-dance” on a river barge in Bohol
-get locked naked in a small closet room in Manila
Okay, so I wasn’t exactly expecting to cross the Phillipines off my list, being in Africa (and therefore nowhere near it), but employers were having their tri-annual in person global conference and they were willing to cover the transportation costs, so why not?
The flight from South Africa was a long one as you might expect. We went through Hong Kong and Manila (changing planes of course), before switching to the domestic Phillipine Airlines for the flight to Bohol, an island in the southern central Visayas chain and the home of our conference. I had heard Phillipine Airlines didn’t exactly have the greatest reputation, and while I think the planes I was on were modern enough and fine, it didn’t exactly help my aviophobia when the pilot would make abrupt announcements like “PLANE TAKEOFF!” “PLANE LAND NOW!” “BAD WEATHER! PLANE MAY GO BACK MANILA. PLANE MAY NOT BE ABLE TO LAND BUT WE TRY!” (Bohol, being in the tropics and quite hot and wet, can whip some nasty storms without much warning). I’m thankful they didn’t inform that the airport in Bohol apparently also lacks a proper tower and so the pilot had to “eyeball it” until after we landed.
The airport in Bohol, named Tagbilaran (say that 10 times fast) after the city it is in, is quite a small (its surrounded by houses), crowded facility, with one runway and only enough space for two jets at any given time, though there are frequent flights every couple hours. The only airport for an island of 1.2 million, it can seem a tad chaotic to outside eyes, but that’s life for many Phillipinos.
Of course, I can’t complain. The resort my organization booked us into, the Amorita Resort, was far from chaotic, it was probably one of the nicest places I’ve ever stayed, with spacious rooms, a pool that seemed have no rail, and a team of hotel staff overly eager to bend over backwards to help you (just try to carry your own luggage and see what happens). If that wasn’t enough, the hotel sat on a gorgeous cliff overlooking the ocean, right beside a long sandy beach that you could easily walk down to (at low tide anyway), where you could find plenty of restaurants, hotels, and other services. So while my days were spent at the conference, my evenings were spent on the beach.
While I was here to work, I did manage to find time for a couple of excursions around Bohol and a couple of surrounding small islands. A group of us went snorkelling off an island just off the coast, where you could see the seafloor going from a shallow shelf to a cliff diving into the depths. These environments are great for colourful fish and it was amazing how easy it was to just dip your head underwater and see a multitude of beautiful fish that from the surface you would never know where there. Of course, I would have seen more if I found a way to keep the waves from filling up my snorkel and giving me an unexpected mouthful of saltwater sending me coughing to the surface.
My Swedish friend Henrik had no such aquatic achille’s heel. In fact, I’m not sure I even saw him come up for air the entire time we were there. Even when they made us switch boats on the island, he refused, saying he’d just swim it, which he did.
Meanwhile we waited while the island village men tried to wrestle a massive and resisting hog onto a flimsy canoe to be taken across the water to slaughter (can’t say I blame the hog for resisting). The boats are generally small, wooden, narrow, lifejacket-less canoes with outriggers to give them stability in the rough ocean waves.
Nearby, we also went to see dolphins, but there were too many other boats with the same idea, so basically one dolphin would come up and blow its air, and immediately 15 vessels would pounce on the area, undeniably driving whatever dolphin or fish were there far away.
The tour on land was a bit more successful, not in spotting dolphins but in spotting land-based landmarks which have the advantage of being on land and generally not moving. This tour included beautifully worn Spanish-era churches (including one with a miracle spring), sites where Spanish conquistadors and local chieftains made alliances, a butterfly park with large beautiful butterflies in colours like blue, green, yellow, you name it. We also went to a sanctuary for the Phillipine Tarsier, a rare, primitive-looking, and mini primate that, while once wide spread, only exists in the wild on a couple of islands, Bohol being one.
From an evolution standpoint, these guys are fascinating, because they look like a missing link between the earliest placental mammals (which were probably rodent-like) and monkeys (and eventually humans). They’re actually tiny things, one could easily fit in my hand, with long rat-like tails, a big ball-like furry body, and big black eyes that take up a third of their body (they’re nocturnal). The only thing obviously primate about them is their hands (yes they have hands), with really skinny, bony fingers that they use to wrap around tree branches. They are cute as hell. Despite their size and appearance, they’re apparently one of the most carnivorous of primates, going after insects, small lizards, and even fling themselves at small birds.
That said, interactions between tarsiers and humans, have not been good for the former. The tarsier is a very sensitive creature, and apparently ones that have been taken as pets (something that’s not supposed to be done) often don’t last very long, committing suicide by banging their fragile foreheads. The sanctuary itself was tiny, located right beside a noisy highway, with small cages, debatable care (we noticed one of the tarsiers appeared to be injured and we were quickly dismissed by the attendant) and an endless parade of tourists, told not to use flash photography or touch the tarsiers, but no doubt being typical tourists. Even in our group, which generally consisted of people working on environmental issues, one guy’s stubborn insistence on taking a picture of a tarsier with his camera (which shot a red light on its subject) ended up waking up the tarsier which had been trying to sleep (it was daylight after all, and the things are nocturnal). It didn’t help that he accidentally turned on his flash.
All and all, the tarsiers seem to be in a lot of trouble, and their only hope is that there’s enough jungle left for enough of them to live their lives unmolested.
If I had a been a bit saddened by my experience with the tarsiers, I was pleasantly surprised by the chocolate hills, Bohol’s most famous tourist attraction, a series of highland odd shaped hills that look like the top half of an egg. These hills are surprisingly impressive, and there were a ton of them. No actual chocolate though, that name apparently comes from an American researcher who visited during the short dry season and saw them as chocolate brown.
After this, we went for a dinner cruise on the Loboc river, a surprising large river for a not-so-large island (they do get a lot of rain mind you). It was night now, but you could see the lush palm trees lining either side lit up by Christmas lights as we cruised down the way.
A journey into the heart of darkness, this was not, as while we eventually came to a dark and especially jungly bend of the river, and our boat mysteriously decided to go ashore, the lights came on and we wwere greeted musically by the “Loboc River Surprise Choir,” a 15 person class of children and their instructor who sing traditional songs and dance (and no doubt surprise tourists on a regular basis). The choir was surprising good and the children were fantastic dancers. In not much time, the tourists were brought into the dancing as well, which we naturally did poorly. Some of the dances involved “churning the butter”with an actual butter churner, pretending to play the ukelele, and “pole dancing” which isn’t what it sounds like. In this traditional dance, two girls grab either end of two poles and they bang them on the ground twice, and together once, keeping up that rhythm. The challenge is dance through the moving poles without getting your ankles bruised, and to do it with style. Naturally children were much better at this than I, but what I lacked in skill and I made up in enthusiasm.
After the conference ended, I spent another day or two lounging on the beach in Bohol, and getting a great sunburn, before heading to Manila for a couple days, before heading back to South Africa.
If the beaches of Bohol are heaven, Manila is... well something else. Said by some to be the most densely populated city on the planet, the chaos starts as soon as you leave the airport (and in some cases even before that).
Manila is a gritty, crowded, and congested megalopolis that can be hard to love, especially when you’re getting chased down the street by street hawkers, dubious cab drivers, and “masseuses” offering massages and “other business.” That said, its not all bad news. If you like exotic automobiles, the classic Phillipino jeepney is sure leave an impression. Originally constructed from leftover American jeeps after WW2, these symbols of Phillipine culture are the local equivalent of the South African minibus taxi, except far more colourful. They look a bit like small silver school buses, decorated head to toe with colourful frills, biblical passages, and seemingly anything the driver might want to throw on there. Charming as they are in the daylight, the seeming lack of muffler on them makes decidedly less so at night, when their trademark honk and roar may rustle you from your sleep on a consistent basis.
Unfortunately, I never figured out how to use them, focusing on the metro system mostly. Coming home from the National Museum of the Phillipines on rush hour (the Museum had a few interesting exhibits, although that time it seemed most of the good stuff was in storage or “under restoration.”) The metro was definitely the most crowded train I have ever been, although I did manage to befriend a Phillipino-American girl, Jenny, and her non-English-speaking boyfriend (well at least I befriended her, not sure the boyfriend liked me all that much). She was shocked to see a Caucasian on the subway, but as I was good degree of body mass bigger than most of the people on the subway, I didn’t take her warnings about crowding that seriously, until a rush hour rush swarmed the train, I got shoved from behind towards her girlfriend, and the poor girl got sandwiched somewhere between us (although she seemed to be okay with it, I guess it was preferable to alternatives). Eventually we got to my stop and I literally had to shove my way through the crowd just to get off and avoid retrace my journey.
On Saturday, I had an unexpected experience. Staying as I was at a budget hotel with a shared bathroom, I went to shower first thing in the morning as I normally do. Now, these bathrooms aren’t like western bathrooms, they’re more like closets with a toilet (possibly), a sink, and a shower (but no curtain, so the toilet’s always wet) crammed in. I didn’t want to hold up the rooms with the toilets in case someone else came, so I opted to shower in the one room that didn’t have one. But as I finished freshing myself up, I had a bit of a surprise. The door knob had come off its footing, not enough to actually fall off, but enough it could no longer operate the latch. I found myself locked in a closet with nothing to wear but a towel.
I soon realized I was in a MacGyver situation. Using nothing but the contents of my shaving kit (which included Mach 3 razors, dental floss, tooth paste, rolled up sunblock, and various remnants of cold medication) I was going to have jimmy-rig an escape from my damp prison. Using my best cognitive skills, I tried to come up with a solution and finally I had one. I banged loudly on the door and yelled for help until someone finally heard me and let me out.
All and all, although Manila wasn’t really my favourite place in the world, the Phillipines does have some beautiful and quite affordable destinations that are worth checking out, although I won’t be able to afford the Amorita Resort on my own budget any time soon.