Pictures from the Trip

I am so sorry that it took me this long to finally get back to the blog.
I simply don't have time to blog when I'm working. On weekends, the last thing I wanna do is to sit in front of the computer for hours.
*Sigh* So much to do and so little time.
Even though I still have a lot of stories to tell, I've come to realize that I would not be able to type them all up today. Since many of you have been asking the same question, here they are.
I'll type up the stories when... when I type up the stories.

Malapascua, Cebu, Philippines









Chilling out in the afternoon









Is that water beautiful or what?





















Calm Before the Storm



















Kate's Virgin Dive









Star Fish

















Defensive Clown Fish








Billy Boy Going on a Wreck Dive



























































Early Morning Visit to the Thresher Sharks

















Bill only saw the tail of a thresher shark, but this Devil Ray came check him out and did a little fly-by.













Right before leaving the island, we had to have a picture together.

What A Day
Sunday, March 30^th, 2008

8:30am – 2:00pm

We knew there was still a bit of traveling to do before reaching our final destination, but we didn’t want to rush it. Had we known what laid ahead, we would’ve done it differently.

After breakfast, we headed out on foot to a mall nearby to get some toiletry stuff. It was just shortly before 10, but the sun was already blazing hot. My back was completely soaked when we walked to Alaya Mall. The mall wasn’t open yet but there was a big group of people waiting outside the door. As soon as the door opened, the group of people transformed into two single-filed lines. Every bag had to be inspected and each individual was patted down by the security guards. At the entrance, a sign with big bold letters in cop blue: “No Hand Guns or Other Firearms Allowed.” Security at the mall was almost as tight as that at any international airport.

It was almost noon when we got back to Kukus Nest. We thought we’d spend the $2,000p and hire a cab to drive us to Maya Pier, but we couldn’t find a cab. Our only option was to take the jeepney to the bus station, take a 3-hour bus to Maya Pier, and get on a boat to Malapascua.

Bill and I are no spring chickens when it comes to long and uncomfortable means of transportation. In Thailand, we traveled on a bus for 22 hours, and in Cambodia, we zipped between cars on bumpy roads on the back of a motorcycle. Little did we know, the 3-hour bus ride turned out to be a ride from hell. It was the worst of Thailand and Cambodia combined, plus a whole lot more.

Kate’s Secret Though #1: “Why can’t you say it right?”

Our first task was to catch the jeepney to SM Mall. While standing at a random street corner under the unforgiving sun, Bill explained to me that the stops were written on the sides of the jeepney and the number was usually on the roof. I had my eyes open for one that had SM Mall on its side. Out of the blue, one pulled up in front of us and the driver was yelling, “Same! Same!” Bill almost immediately started heading toward the back of the car. Uncertain, I asked again (as slowly and clearly as I could), “S.M. Mall?” “Same! Same!” the driver replied.

At SM Mall, we had to catch another jeepney to go to the Northern Bus Terminal (written as NBT on some jeepneys). When we got on, Bill asked the driver to tell us when we got to NBT. The driver gave him a barely audible “Yeh.” Bill reconfirmed, “You tell us when we get there, okay?” The driver looked at him from the rearview mirror without making a sound.

After weaving half way across town, we arrived at a bus terminal. We were getting ready to get off when Bill asked again, “Northern Bus Terminal?” The driver didn’t say anything but a passenger answered, “No. This is Southern Bus Terminal.” Bill and I both started at the driver, who looked at us innocently and quietly. The passenger pointed us to a jeepney that was about to take off, so we scrambled out of this one and into the other jeepney, which would take us all the way back to SM Mall and further up north.

Kate’s Secret Though #2: “Why on earth are you making that sound?!”

The roof of a jeepney is really low. It was so low that Bill and I practically had to crawl in. Though it was no air-conditioned family sedan, it was nevertheless bearable. I could deal with being packed with 10 other sweaty individuals in a tin box under the mid-day sun. What I found agitating was that loud sucking teeth sound the Filipinos were making all along the ride. Everyone was doing it: men and women of all ages and from all walks of life. A young lady in a nice white blouse and black tight skirt who squinted her eyes and covered her mouth because of the dusty air would remove her dainty handkerchief in a gipsy just to make that awful sound with her mouth. Even the little girl who had been curiously looking at Bill and me and whom I thought was quite cute and pretty also made that sucking sound just when I turned and smiled at her. I heard the descending tune of a video game as her cuteness meter dropped.

Kate’s Secret Thought #3: “We’re gonna get killed and no one will know about it.”

The Northern Bus Terminal is a real hustling-bustling place. It was packed with locals going to different places. People were talking, vendors were shouting, and the TV was on full volume. As soon as we stepped off the jeepney, everyone’s eyes were on us. We were the only foreigners there. Different people pointed us to all directions for a bus to Maya Pier and they were quoting different prices for the bus fare. It took us a while to finally get some straight answers from a chubby dude in a yellow busline uniform. He told us the bus would arrive in 10 minutes and asked us not to go anywhere. The bus wasn’t there in 10 minutes. Bill and I decided to find somewhere to sit. As soon as we wandered away from Mr. Chubby, some random guy came to us and told us to go with him. We were pretty good about fending a couple of those off for a while. However, after 40 minutes of waiting in the noisy chaotic Bus Terminal, we started to lose our patience.

One guy came and told us that he could get us to Maya in 2 hours in an air-con’d van for $2,000p. The deal was particularly tempting because (1) that was how much we were prepared to pay the cab driver in the first place, and (2) we were tired, hot, and confused. We followed the man to a white van. I got into the van first and noticed the driver and another man in the passenger’s seat were there already. They both had reflective fake Rayban sunglasses on so I couldn’t see their eyes. I didn’t like that.

A man asked if Bill would like some rice crackers for the road. It was around 1:30pm. We hadn’t eaten since breakfast and we still had a couple of hours of traveling to do, so we bought a bag. When Bill got out his wallet, I saw the handful of men standing way too close around him all had their eyes fixed on the content of the wallet. Even the driver and the other dude were looking from the mirrors. After Bill put the rice crackers in the van, the guy who brought us to the van started asking us to pay him $200p in advance. Bill didn’t understand him and proceeded into the van. One of Bill’s butt cheeks had just touched the seat when I freaked out. “I don’t trust them,” I said, “Let’s get out.” The guys outside had already started shutting the door. Bill put his right hand on the door, turned to me, and asked, “You wanna get out?” The driver started slowly moving the van. I started pushing Bill out. “Stop! Stop the car!” Bill shouted as we hopped out of the van.

(to be continued)

What A Day
Sunday, March 30^th, 2008
2:00pm – 9:00pm

When we walked back into the bus terminal, everyone was looking at us. There were concerns and pity in their eyes, but the corner of their mouths also gave away a tint of pride.

Mr. Chubby rushed over to lead us back to the waiting area. On the way he tapped Bill’s arm, pointed at the van with his chin and said, “Swindle.” Swindle or not, I felt better knowing that our next ride to Maya would be on a public bus.

It felt like as if a war had broken out as soon as the bus slowly backed into the station. A big crowd rushed toward it, pushing and elbowing others out of the way at the door. Mr. Chubby and his buddy were among the bus chasers and, in no time, our bags occupied two seats on the bus. Bill also hopped on the moving bus and reached out at the door for my hand. Focused on his hand, I misjudged the height of the first step and almost fell flat on my face. Luckily, Mr. Chubby caught me and pulled me up.

The seats were hard and small. My knees were against the back of the seat in front of me and Bill had to keep his knees apart the whole time. While Bill and I felt uncomfortably cramped in the two seats, the Filipinos somehow managed to squeeze 3 adults and a couple of kids in the same space. Those who came on board too late stood or squatted in the aisle and by the doors. What was really nerve-wrecking was that the doors were open while the bus was racing down bumpy winding roads.

I felt relieved when the bus was on its way. He locals told us it’d take about 3 hours to Maya, so we reckoned we could be in Malapascua in time for sunset and dinner. After the bus made the first right turn our of the bus terminal, it stopped to pick up some random people at the corner. I figured those people must be friends of the driver or the conductor. The bus continued on for another 15 minutes or so, and it stopped at another random street corner again. Some got off; some got on. “Okay,” I thought, “This bus probably gives people rides here and there in the city. It will be a smooth ride once we get out of the city.” Well, it didn’t. It didn’t take us long to realize that pick-ups and drop-offs were part of the ride. I started to worry. At this rate, how were we gonna get there in 4 hours? “Stay positive,” I cheered myself up, “When the locals said 3 hours, it must mean 3 hours including the pick-ups and drop-offs.”

The bus took us up and around the grassy mountains on Cebu. With my eyes fixed on the world outside the windows, I saw how rough the living condition is for some of the poorest people in the Philippines. They live in small shads in the woods and pump underground water for laundry. Children and adults all wear faded hand-me-down clothes from the West. Filipino parents receive tax exemption when they have more than 5 kids, so it’s common to see a 5^th-grader walking with an infant on her back while holding a toddler’s hand. The favorite pass time is to find a shady spot on the side of a road and watch the world go by. Kids excitedly giggled and ran alongside the bus when they spotted Bill, the only Caucasian on the bus. For most of them, I’d imagine, the bus symbolized the unknown – it’s a big metal box that comes from and goes to places they may never have a chance to see, carrying strange-looking people they may never have a chance to meet.

It was 5:30pm. The sun had started to set and we were only in Bogo – another 1.5 hours away from Maya. Though it was never verbalized, Bill and I both started to worry. We had no idea if there would be boats going to Malapascua from Maya, and we didn’t know if there were places to stay in Maya if we needed to spend the night. At 7:30pm, while the bus slowly cruised through the town of Maya, Bill asked the bus conductor if there were hotels. “No,” the bus conductor answered promptly, “but special boat to Malapascua.”

The sea was pitch dark when we got off the bus at the Pier. We hired a “special boat” for 1,000p, which also took two Filipinas (of course they got a free ride because of us). On the half-hour ride on the sea, I saw the most stars I’d ever seen in my life. Also for the first time, I saw the Big Dipper big and clear in front of me. Not a bad welcome, I’d say.

At 9:00pm, we finally set foot on the soft sand on Malapascua. We were stiff, hungry, and exhausted. It's too dark now to see anything, but this island's better be mind-blowingly beautiful to make all that traveling worthwhile.

Flying Over the Kukus Nest

Saturday, March 29^th, 2008

Our travel plan for today was plain and simple:

Taipei - Manila; Manila - Cebu.

We chatted with the woman sitting next to us on the plane from Taipei to Manila. She’s an overseas Taiwanese who’s now a permanent resident in the Philippines. She went back to Taiwan a week earlier to take part in the Presidential Election. After we told her where we were heading, she offered us a ride to the domestic airport and gave us her cell phone number “in case you run into any problems in Cebu”. We were grateful for her generosity, but we wanted to see what happened with our flight transfer.

We ended up taking the shuttle bus from the international airport to the domestic one. The bus was cramped and dark. After a bumpy ride in a stuffy bus, some of the passengers were getting a bit short-tempered and annoyed at the driver for not announcing the stops. Bill and I got off the bus feeling proud that we remained cool and relaxed. Our daily commute in Taipei was proven useful in dealing with stressful situations.

The flight from Manila to Cebu wasn’t as short and sweet as we expected. First of all, the girl at the check-in counter printed two tickets under my name, so we had to go back to have one changed. Then the flight was delayed for half an hour, so we hung out in the boarding lounge watching cheesy Filipino soap opera about a woman who was determined to win a beauty pageant.

We were tired and hungry when we finally got to our hotel around 9:30pm. Though our room wasn’t new and modern, it had a colonial feel to it and it had an AC (a very loud one). After dropping our backpacks off, we went to the bar to get some dinner. There was no seat outside in the yard, so we ended up sharing a heavy solid wooden table in the living room with a middle-aged European dude and his “companion”. He looked about 50 something, and she looked about 12… okay, maybe 16. They didn’t have much to talk about with each other (surprise, surprise). The man did most of the talking, which was pretty much lame jokes followed by some nervous chuckle. At the end of their meal, she asked if she could doggy-bag her curry chicken and he replied, “You’re gonna bring this home to your mom? I hope this isn’t her dinner ‘cause it’s kinda late. (chuckle)” She didn’t laugh. In fact, I don’t think she understood everything he had said. She reconfirmed, “May I?” when the waitress put the packed food on the table. “Oh sure. Go ahead,” he said, “It’s not like I’m bringing it home to my family, you know?! (chuckle)” Once again, he was the only one laughing.

After the grody man and the girl left, a young blond Swiss guy came in to pick up his bags from behind the bamboo dividers next to our table. When he was struggling to squeeze those two duffel bags through the narrow space between the bar and the bamboo dividers, he stopped for a brief second but still decided to force them through. Sure enough, the bamboo dividers came falling down right above my head. In an instant, my Chinese ancestry kicked in and I caught a corner of the bamboo dividers in mid air with only my right hand. It was like in those kung fu movies: the moment we heard the smack in my hand, the Swiss guy and I both froze in our moves. In that seemingly prolonged second, I indulged in pride and self-love whereas he was overcome with shame and embarrassment. He apologized and helped lift the bamboo dividers out of my hand. I decided to spare his life as oppose to sticking chopsticks up his nostrils. As soon as he tumbled over the threshold, we heard a loud grunt of frustration. Bill and I burst out laughing.

Like all kung fu masters, I took a swig out of my yummy mango rum after the commotion. As soon as the liquid touched my upper lip, I paused and carefully tilted the glass upright. There was a tiny green bug floating on the yellow pool. I spooned it out and put it on a napkin. “Look,” I said to Bill, “this little guy got drunk in my drink.”

5 minutes later, I detected in my peripheral vision small movements on the napkin. That little bugger woke up and was trying to stand on its shaky feet. For the following half an hour, I watched in fascination and amazement as my little green alchy friend wobbled around the napkin and tried to open its wings. It was like my own Animal Planet. I laughed as it waved only one leg at a time in front of its face as if to make sure that it was his. I cheered it on when it was trying to walk a straight line across the napkin. Though it felt a bit ridiculous to keep an eye on a tiny bus on the napkin, I waited patiently for it to fly away on its own terms. He never left on its own terms. He was blown away when a waitress turned on the fan next to us. I was a bit sad but I wasn’t worried. I think he was sober enough to stay out of harm's way.