Island Hopping
14th March 2006
I headed off on an island adventure with fellow volunteer Paul
Gilbert. Our main goal was to see the chocolate hills, but we
planned to see some other sights along the way.
We left early on the morning of the 9th of March, which was a
challenge for me as this was the morning after my night
out with the teachers. I probably had about 3 hours sleep.
Getting There
Our first day was all travel. To get from Dumangas to Loboc - a
small town near Bohol - we caught:
- Two motorcycle rides
- Three jeepney rides
- One taxi ride
- One plane ride
- One tricycle ride
If you're interested, the actual itinerary can be found here.
We saw many interesting things along the way. The goat
outside the mall in Cebu was my favorite. A classic example of East
meeting West.
We also went into a very cool church. The church had many
statues adorning the walls. This one was
quite odd. It had an adolescent looking Christ on what
looks like a broken cross. I am unsure what the significance of
this is. I'd be very interested to find out.
Nuts Huts
We based ourselves at Nuts Huts for the Bohol leg of our
journey. I've stayed at many places in the Philippines, from the
very flash to the very simple. Nuts Huts has been my favorite so
far.
You have to walk 750 meters down a country road and then descend down
293 steps to get to Nuts Huts. It is
well worth the effort. Nuts Huts is nestled inside a valley that
has a river winding through it. Very idyllic
and quiet. I felt guilty when I coughed.
Nuts Huts had a lot of personality to it, due mainly to the Belgium
couple that ran it. There were quirky statues everywhere, the
rooms had names - Moonstruck, Falling Star and so on - as opposed to
room numbers and the restaurant was
full of character. Paul and I spent quite a few hours there
sipping on banana shakes and chatting to the owners and other
guests.
We paid 600 pesos ($NZ 15) a night for our bamboo
cottage. The rooms were simple
and came with mosquito nets, a shower and a toilet.
Chocolate Hills and Motorbikes
Our main mission in Bohol was to see the Chocolate Hills.
The Chocolate Hills consist of about 1268 near identical hill.
These cook to a toasty brown during the dry season.
Paul and I hired some motorbikes
from Nuts Huts for 500 pesos ($NZ 12.50) and drove ourselves to the
Hills. The bike ride to the hills will be a fond memory of
my time here in the Philippines. The bikes were dead easy to drive
and zooming in and out of small townships
and lush scenery was great fun.
I kept on bursting into song as we were
riding. I wanted to sing "Born to be Wild", but
"New York, New York" kept on coming out instead.
Weird.
The sense of freedom really got to me and I
decided to ride helmet-less (sorry Mum). A little dangerous?
Yes. Did I care? Nope. My biggest concern was some
tosspot of a cop catching me and slapping some white guy fine on
me. This didn't happen. I reckon about 75% of Filipinos
drive with bike helmets.
When I first came here I was a little anxious
about getting doubled around on motorbikes. Now it doesn't phase
me at all. Heck, after the baptism
I attended the other day I got a lift home with a total of four people
and zero helmets on a motorbike. Eden claims to have been on a
motorbike with eight other people in her native Mindanao, where they bolt a plank of wood onto the back, just
incase you need to transport around a Rugby Sevens team.
As a caveat to this whole motorbike thing, Eden
- the volunteer coordinator - had a nasty motorbike accident the other
day. Her and two guys fell off their motorbike when they had to
stop suddenly. Eden was in the middle of the bike and had the
worst of the injuries. She is fairly badly grazed down one side
but thankfully nothing was broken. She was wearing a helmet a
time. There is probably a lesson in all of this, but I refuse to
see what it is.
Anywho, back to the Chocolate Hills. They
were gorgeous. We took touristy
photos. That's all I have to say about that!
I also received the Best
Text Ever from a student while we were on the Chocolate Hills.
It was sent by a Grade Four pupil called Janica.
Janica has also said that I'm like a second father to her. Man, it
is going to be so hard to leave.
We also visited the MagsaySay National Park,
which was - quiet frankly - shit. The best and worst park was the
mud we had to bike through to get
there. The park itself featured a bunch of Filipinos lounging
around, a crap butterfly garden and an overgrown walk. The only
person we saw working was the guy on the gate who charged us a whopping
100 pesos ($NZ 2.50) to get in. I noticed a sign
that said it was partially sponsored by my government. I may have
words with my Prime Minister, the R.H. Helen Clark.
Not Monkeys
On our way to our next island, we thought we would go to the Tarsier
Sanctuary. Tarsiers, we were
informed were the worlds smallest monkeys, so we figured they were worth
a look.
We headed back to Loboc to try and find a way to
get to the sanctuary . The only jeepney that was heading anywhere
close to the sanctuary was going to leave in about two hours. A
two hour wait in Loboc was about one hour and fifty five minutes longer
than I wanted to spend there.
I got talking to a guy in a cafe who had a
relative working in Auckland, New Zealand. He seemed like a nice
enough guy, so I bought him an ice cream. He disappeared for a
minute and then told us that his mate would drive us to the sanctuary on
his motorbike for a very reasonable 150
pesos ($NZ 3.75). There is probably some Karma Lesson to be learnt
here. But fairs fair, I'll refuse to learn anything from
this as well.
We wound around yet more country roads on the
back of the guys bike. He drove us right to the entrance of the sanctuary,
which was cool, because if we had caught the aforementioned jeepney, we
would of had a 15 minute or so walk in the hot sun.
A guide at the sanctuary took of for a tour around the enclosure and
pointed out where all the Tarsiers were. They were very
cute. I wanted pick up three of them and juggle them, but I
thought this probably wouldn't of been a good idea.
We also learned that the Tarsiers are not
monkeys (they are primates), and even if they were, they would not be
the smallest. "Worlds Smallest Monkey" is a very
deceptive way to describe a Tarsier.
Not Witch Island
Out next stop was a place called Siquijor Island.
"Siquijor" is too much of mouthful, so I decided to rename it
"Witch Island". Witch Island is very small. The
road that runs around the outside is 72km long. It is famous for
its Black Magic, hence my "Witch Island" name. I was
looking forward to:
- Riding around the island on a motorcycle
- Seeing some witches
Some of the black magic has been diluted down and consists mainly of
really good massages and herbal remedies. I was hoping to
discover something a bit darker though...
Alas, we got some bum advice from a fellow New Zealander at Nuts Huts
and there were no ferries going there on the weekend. Poot.
We wandered back and forth around the Port of Cebu trying hard to find
another way to get there, but we had no luck.
The Camotes Islands
We decided to head to the Camotes
Islands instead. The next ferry was at 9 p.m., so we had to
hang around Cebu for a few hours. William Gibson once said :
The Internet is a complete waste of time, and that is what's good
about it.
Very true. Paul and I killed the waiting time with some
mindless surfing on the internet. Well, mine was mindless.
Paul might have been curing cancer. Dunno.
The boat that took us from Cebu to the
Camotes Islands was very cool. It was an overnight vessel and was
stacked with rows and rows of bunk beds.
I had rather fortunately decided to stay in the air-conditioned section
of the boat. The non-air-conditioned section was open to the
elements and reeked from the fish that they
were transporting. I managed to sleep through most of the four
hour journey.
We arrived on the Camotes Islands at around one o'clock in the
morning. We made a token attempt to find some accommodation, but
our heart really wasn't in it. We decided to ask one of the
crewmen if it was okay if we slept on the boat. He was cool with
it and we slept on the boat.
We found some a place to stay in the morning called The Pension
House, which was ran by some hard core Catholics. There were
stickers and signs everywhere. Some of them proudly displayed
Family of the Year awards, and some of them denounced everything from
divorce to homosexuality. Other than that though, it lacked any
real character and was just a place to sleep.
We once again hired some guys to take us around on their motorcycles.
We asked them to take us to Three Peaks,
which was right on the top of the islands, and to some caves.
Both were really neat.
We headed to the other side of the island to a place called San
Francisco. No, not that San Francisco. There happened
to be a mountain bike race on the day we visited, so the streets were
lined with people watching the bikes. As we headed down the roads,
we got round after round of wild cheering just because we were
white. Small kids, big kids, adults, old people. It didn't
matter. Everybody cheered us. Very surreal. This must
be how famous people feel.
In San Francisco, we found a beach resort
with gorgeous views and relaxed the day
away. We had to wander around the bustling metropolis of San
Francisco to find a ride back. I really like this
picture of Paul searching for a ride. We eventually lucked
upon a guy who offered us a ride.
Homeward Bound
By this time we were both pretty shattered from all the traveling.
We slept though the night, the morning and most of the journey back to
Dumangas, which was pretty much like this,
only backwards.
Questions? Comments? Try contacting
me.
Wanna receive an email whenever this site gets updated? Click here.
(c)
2005 and 2006 Malcolm Trevena.
All the stuff on this site is written by me, Malcolm Trevena. Feel free to
link to this page. Heck, you can even copy stuff from here if you
want. Just make sure you sight me as a reference.
|
