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.