Monday, September 01, 2014

Mindoro, Philippines

Anna's entry:

 Our prior two-­month super ­enjoyable visit to the Philippines a few years ago (see detailed blog titled The Visayas published in April 2010) prompted us to come back to the Philippines and explore other areas.  I've chosen the region of Mindoro for this journey for several reasons: ­ it is still off the tourist trail (i.e. more genuine), it supposedly has great landscapes and some good marine spots, and it is relatively accessible for our three­-week exploration.

 ARRIVAL
Our flight from Kuala Lumpur to the Philippines landed in Manila around 10 p.m., and we had the entire night to wait for our connecting flight to San Jose ­ from where we would start our journey in Mindoro.  Another country, another language, another set of rules...

 I realized it was only 5:30 a.m. when I found myself watching an NBA game on the airport TV screen.  There was also a group of similarly tired Philippine men staring at the screen...  I looked at Rob and asked "Do you think I am loosing interest in travel?"...

SAN JOSE
We touched down in a tiny airport of San Jose, and headed to the dusty town center to find a place to stay.  It was around 9 a.m. when we checked into a simple, but clean room for about $8 a night. Our first priority was to get some sleep, then locate a currency exchange facility, then research the next bus connection towards an enticing Apo Reef National Park.  The town was gritty, but friendly.  And yet, something felt different.  It just didn't seem like the Philippines we learned to love when we'd travelled in the Visayas a few years ago.  I started to pick up on the similarity between this part of the Philippines and the Central America or Mexico...  There seemed to be present a Latino influence, which was not necessarily a good thing.  Even the language reflected a lot of Spanish borrowings.  I value our travels in diverse and fascinating Central America (we spent over five months there exploring every country of the region, and at some point even considered moving there), but I was picking up on something negative from our CA travels ­ - not sure if Mindoro seemed rougher, or more macho, or something else...  We'll have to see...  But, for now ­ we had to accept the constant noise of Karaoke in all hours of the day and night (in addition to cheap alcohol, Karaoke seems like a national pastime for ALL Philippino men - with and without voice - trying to sing/howl); and sweeten our arrival by a local specialty called Halo­-Halo - ­ a wonderful sweet­-milky-­icy-­fruity dessert.  We actually make it at home on occasion, but tasting a genuine local version is always so much better.





 SABLAYAN
...was the town-­base for exploration of supposedly well preserved Apo Reef National Marine Park. The town was dusty, gritty, bleak, and depressing.  I was getting again a flashback of the ignorant parts of Central America.  There was a heavy presence of Christian churches, religious sects, and under­-age young mothers - ­ I wonder why that was the case...

 We went to the "recommended by guide books" Ecotoursim office who presumably was supposed to be instrumental in arranging a trip to the Apo Reef.  What can I say...   Ecotoursim office turned out to be completely useless to say the least.  When we entered their office the music was blasting, the office girl was more interested in her make­up, and most of the personnel desks were abandoned.  To my every question, the office employee had the same answer "I don't know..."  I told her to turn the music down, pick up the phone to find out, and try to remember what she knows.  It had a semi­positive effect, but not enough to proceed.  After our own further independent research, we found out that the trip to the Apo Reef would be a complete rip­off, and ultimately decided against it.  After only a day in Sablayan, we made a decision to turn around and go back.

 The only interesting part of the Sablayan detour was the highway.  The rickety bus without glass windows went around numerous fresh-­green rice fields and tiny thatch-­wall settlements; our faces were blasted by winds, and all the smells and sounds added up to a scenic journey.  Frequently, the entire highway lane would be taken by drying crops - ­ mostly corn kernels, brown rice, and what looked like, wheat grains.  The traffic had to merge into one lane to avoid damaging the crops.  It was crazy.  Sometimes half of the highway would look like one long yellow-orange lane, and only by passing closer to it, one would realize that a sweet corn was drying on the hot sun-­burnt asphalt...









ROXAS
The guidebooks recommended to skip the town altogether calling it a dusty spot in the middle of nowhere.  But, I disagree.  Sure, it is dusty and there isn't really anything special to do there, but it is really not that different from other small towns that for some miraculous reason made it in the books.  For one, Roxas was so much more pleasant that the annoying Sablayan (which we had "U-turned", and which was supposed to be a new top spot according to the books).  Second, local people were so much more pleasant and helpful.  Third, on market days you could encounter the Mangyan indigenous groups coming to trade their crafts and belongings.  Fourth, the town had food options including decent evening choices, great mangoes, and ice-cream.  And, fifth - the supermarket had a free wi-fi and a great security guy who would drop anything and send employees to get me hot water for my decaff coffee.  In other words, not only we did not "skip town", we ended up spending two nights here before proceeding further north on the way to Puerto Galera.  



CALAPAN CITY
... was a necessary over-night connection stop-over on the way to Puerto Galera.  Not too much flattering to say about the city - bigger (richer) urban area, snotty (richer) local kids, lots of fast food establishments (McDonald's had great chicken-rice-and gravy special, and ice-cream was pretty good), and hotel we stayed at had a better bigger bed to seep in.  The city had a small heritage center dedicated to the Mangyan indigenous group - apparently that seems to be the only group in the Philippines that managed to never be colonized by European invaders.  Displays were limited, but the stories were interesting.  We talked to an indigenous girl there who was volunteering in a small gift shop.  There were a few heart-touching friendship indigenous poems written on pieces of paper attached to letter-opening knives, and we thought immediately of our dear friend who has graciously been our point of contact and a designated correspondent for us for almost seven years...  When one travels for so long and sometimes forgets what and where a real home is, there is a great comfort in having someone looking after the practical affairs.  

  
PUERTO GALERA
Noted in guide books and self-proclaimed as "the most beautiful bay in the world" Puerta Galera town itself is really just another s..t-hole...  The bay itself is all right, but the description has really been created to get the attention and make some money on it.  The sailing boats and expats do seem to flock here, but I think the cheap (really cheap) alcohol has something to do with it, and not the natural beauty.  The town itself is dusty, noisy, over-run with obnoxious tricycle touts that would gather and talk loudly under (our hotel) windows until 4 a.m. hoping to make a buck by taking a drunk Western expat back to their over-priced resort. 

The small guest house in the town center we stayed at was German-Philippino run (apparently a German guy had married a local Philippino lady).  And, it can also be awarded a title of "the filthiest hotel" in Asia.  Let me put it this way - we had stayed in real dumps while traveling in numerous developing countries, and yet this was THE first time in my ten travel years when I had to clean the common bathroom (the only bathroom available for the guests and staff to use).  The floor was covered with used toilet paper soiled with fecal matters, the toilet had not been flushed for days and was plugged with what you would (or would not) expect; and it goes from there.  There was no other guest house available in town, and the young lazy Philippino ladies "running" the hotel wearing high heals did nothing to correct the situation; as a matter of fact they would mysteriously disappear when work had to be done.  I must say they were friendly and smiley (of course they would smile - they finally got someone (me) to clean up the bathroom for everyone's enjoyment); and one morning they even made us a nice big fresh pot of real coffee that went well with fresh bakery items I picked up.  In either case, I am disclosing the hotel's name - it is "Bahay Pilipino" - enter at your own risk...
Now about more pleasant memories.  We did mange to explore a local marine environment for a couple of hours (exceptionally short time for us).  Our expectations had been set quite low (Philippines is not that great for marine life), but we had some time and joined a diving boat to be dropped off in the snorkel-accessible area.  The water was cold (wet suits helped, but only for a short time), and the currents (abundant with jelly fish) were quite strong, but we did manage to see typical tropical fish, a moray eel, mandarin fish, and lots of banded sea snakes - so many, as a matter of fact, that I told Rob I felt we had been dropped off in a "snake farm" as opposed to a (yawn-yawn-boring) "clam farm" near-by - another tourist trap created by local diving businesses.  I must say however, that coral looked quite pretty in areas as long as you can disregard the fact that the ocean has been depleted by locals' over-fishing.
Another outing (and definitely a highlight of Puerto Galera for me) was a trip to Tamaraw Falls.  We spent almost the entire day swimming in waterfalls and their pools created along various heights.  From one of the angles, you could look towards the ocean miles away over the green lush jungle tops.  We also got lucky - there were only a couple of people besides us - and for the most part we had the falls to ourselves.  While waiting for a jeepney (former school bus converted into a public bus) to get back into town, we struck a lively conversation with a super nice local young guy (who apparently was having a long-distance infatuation with a Russian girl he had met here as her tour guide), so I had to explain some of the cultural interpretations for that fellow.  He also shared with us his local knowledge.  One of the questions we had for him was an obvious "convenience" relationship between numerous old Western expats and young local Philippine girls.  Our suspicions were confirmed.  I guess everyone is looking for something, just the way the song goes...  
And, the third highlight of Puerto Galera was a simple street food stall run in the evenings by two brothers in their early 20's.  They would cook up super delicious, freshly made soups and finger-licking BBQ chicken accompanied with numerous condiments - hot chili peppers, limes, fried crispy onion bits, spicy oils, pepper flakes, etc.  The food was quite cheap (both of us would eat our fill for a total of $3).  And - no two-tier pricing (locals and foreigners paid the same) - honest sellers proud of their work and their guests.  Way to go!











CALAPAN to BULALACAO
Calapan was simply a practical stop-over to load up on food supplies for our upcoming trip to the Tambaron Island.  On the way to Calapan from Puerto Galera we shared a jeepney with an interesting outspoken young lady of the Hawaiian-Philippine descend.  She'd returned to the Philippines and established a successful business, however, due to the local corruption and laziness of her family members (according to her own admission), she ran into a lot of dead ends.  So, it was informative to get the perspective on the local bureaucratic customs and tactics.
We had to figure out numerous bus connections in order to make it to Bulalacao and avoid the "private vans cartel".  Eventually, we located a what looked like a large jeepney (public bus), but it seemed to be loaded with mounts of baskets and produce and very few locals.  We confirmed that it was indeed the public bus to Bulalacao, but when we inquired about the cost of getting to our point, the price kept shifting.  It just didn't have the right sound.  However, choosing between the bus and the corrupt van cartel, we chose the former.  We climbed into the bus, and the passengers began eagerly moving their over-loaded with produce baskets to clear us a spot to sit down on the narrow wooden bench.  I immediately picked up on the passengers' appearance - they definitely looked different from the local Philippine population; and then I realized we were sharing the bus with the Mangyan indigenous group.  Cool, I thought!  Tourists pay big bucks to be taken to their village, and here we have the village on the bus with us!  They all were jolly men and women.  They spoke no English, but we quickly got acquainted via the universal body language, gestures, smiles and giggles.  A Mangyan elderly lady proudly showed me a huge woven basket of turnips she'd bought at the market, and picked up a large one for us to try.  We politely declined it, but it was very curious to observe the Mangyans enjoying those ripe turnips like they were a treat of the century.  We smiled back and forth all the way, and eventually the lady had to get off the bus.  She and a few other passengers unloaded their precious cargo, then she went to the driver, pointed to us, told him something to which the driver nodded, and then she walked away from the highway sending us air kisses and waiving us good-by.  We found out about 15 minutes later what had been said to the driver...  We reached Bulalacao, and I went to the driver to pay for our ride - I handed him the money, but also mentioned to him that I was fully aware I was over-charged.  He smiled back, told me completely different (lower) local price, and returned part of the payment back to me.  I understood then that the Mangyan lady had spoken to him about being fare with us, and he was.  So, the bus ride ended up on a pleasant note after all.  And, by the way - on the way to Bulalacao we saw a broken down van and a group of confused Western tourists along with their spread luggage standing on the highway.  See - that's why you gotta spend a little more efforts to locate that local bus with actual locals riding it!
We seemed to be the only two Westerners staying in Bulalacao.  Two places mentioned in our guide book had been shut down (of course, the lazy book writers didn't bother updating their "super new and improved information").  But, we still had a hope of locating one more obscure hotel.  It was so obscure, that even most locals had no idea where it was.  Eventually, one lady took us to the place.  The building actually looked quite pompous from outside (and had a matching name to go with it - El Rio Grande), but apparently it had not been occupied in months!  We located a care-taker, and she and her young son took us inside of the hotel.  We were shown to a HUGE room with over-sized windows and sweeping views of the ocean from all areas (even from the toilet seat - literally).  There was one issue, however - the room's key had been mysteriously lost, and no one had any idea where it would be.  Not to worry - my super-man Rob (who had acquired the nickname back in Indonesia due to his grand appearance from the ocean in his impressive wet-suit), had the solution!  With his travel tools, he took a lock out of another unoccupied room (that was in the process of being remodeled), and within 10 minutes we had a room and a key!  He also proceeded with repairing handles of both rooms, and even fixed up our shower.  I can tell you this - this is probably the first and the last time that care-taker had an aerospace engineer (and Westerner) working on her property.  I warned Rob to be careful - otherwise the care-taker and her family would not let him go.  In any case, we had a comfy room, large breezy roof-top terrace and the entire hotel all to ourselves.  We went and picked up several simple local dishes, and had our supper watching the ocean, sunset, and appearing in the night sky multitude of stars.


TAMBARON ISLAND
Finally, we have secured a peaceful isolation that we'd been longing for after so many noisy dusty towns and bus connections going around Mindoro.  I had been communicating with the island resort months prior (even before we took off for this fourth Asia trip back in November).  It would be Rob's birthday so I planned this retreat in advance.  There were only a couple more Western travelers on the island, but even they seemed a lot more serious, respectful, and interesting (which is quite rare these days).  For the most part we had an island to ourselves, and spent days either snorkeling or enjoying the tranquility and the ocean.  At night, unbelievably beautiful stars would cover the night sky.  Being on a relatively isolated island without any light pollution, we would indulge ourselves gazing at the striking unobstructed star clusters, it made you feel so insignificant being surrounded by these astronomical wonders.  The only similar experiences we encountered were on isolated Banda Islands in Indonesia (a few months ago), and on South Island in New Zealand (a couple of years ago)...

The accommodation itself was quite basic (including a typical dingy cold water bucket shower room) - though we were given an eight-person room (that normally would have been used by a large group) just for the two of us.  We had about four windows in our large (mostly unused) room, and the wooden shutters would produce loud noise when the strong ocean winds would pound the wooden building and force the shutters close.  Despite of the island's peacefulness, there was still something unsettling for me.  The resort staff (though always polite) reminded me robots.  They produced a kind of depressing aura around them, and seemed like lost souls without any positive outlook or hope...

The snorkeling experience was nothing spectacular (especially after the Banda Islands), however, we did manage to encounter a few very unusual (and highly desirable) marine creatures - over 30 nudibranchs (some as large as 20 centimeters long), and once even witnessed two giant nudri-branchs' engaged in an intimate encounter - while we were snorkeling around the island caves.  Among other things this is what we saw: numerous pipefish (related to seahorses) - some with bright black-white stripes and red target-like round tales; striped box-fish; gobbies; shrimp; walking mantis shrimp; lobster; starry eel (adult and a baby); scorpion fish; razor fish; green puff fish/box fish; beautiful vividly coloured anemone fish; green cup coral; soft coral; bubbly honey-comb coral; long sea cucumbers; and a couple of unusual things - small round-ish brown-yellow squid-like fish with a round eye in the body center and tiny tentacles as a tale (none of our marine literature identified this creature); and a grey-ish jelly with very thick tentacles.

Over all, the island was an acceptable stop-over, and we enjoyed needed peace and quiet.  It was also worth carrying all the food supplies with us - the island keeps you as a hostage charging pretty much what they want for the only food option available - at their own restaurant (which we luckily avoided). 











BULALACAO to SAN JOSE
Our journey around Mindoro was almost complete...  We left the Tambaron Island in the same fishing boat we came in, and crossed back into "the mainland" at Bulalacao.  Our boatman seemingly liked us, and drove us in his small motorcycle taxi to the Bulalacao public market.  He was waiting with us to flag down the correct public van heading all the way to San Jose.  While Rob and the boatman were waiting by the side of the road, I sat down on a bench at the market and chatted with a few locals that we'd met before the trip to the island.  That's what happens in a small town - people hang around in pretty much the same area and talk about pretty much the same stuff. 

While waiting for a van to arrive, I noticed a few entertaining things.  First, a large rooster (on a rope) was guarding an access to the public restroom where the fee box was located.  Secondly, a macho-type man I was talking with had his toe nails perfectly manicured and painted in bright-red nail polish.  And, third - a small restaurant next to the bus stop had a very inviting sign that said "Come and Dine Us".  OK, I thought to myself, this town is quirky after all... 

Eventually, our van arrived and we eagerly boarded it - actually, we were given good seats on the back, and even our backpacks were stored in a very decent manner right behind us.  Because the van was full, two other men passengers were riding on the roof.  There were a lot of pin-curves along the mountainous route, but that didn't seem concern the roof-riding passengers or a driver.   A couple of hours later we reached and entered (for the third time) the already familiar town of San Jose...
SAN JOSE 
We had started our journey around Mindoro here, in San Jose, almost three weeks ago, and this was where we would finish it.  Everything was familiar here by now.  We went to stay at the same hotel.  The room was quite small, but it was clean, and the hotel staff was always friendly; we even had a cable TV (in English).  We knew exactly where to go to eat (the public market had great grilled chicken and super tasty fresh mangoes; the evening central square market had really nice mango shakes; and numerous bakeries down the street had fresh (and almost passable) addition to my coffee.  And, of course, as a finale to our journey here in the Philippines we treated ourselves to the all-time-national-favourite Halo-Halo desert.  We used last few days in San Jose for practical purposes including a hair cut for Rob.  By now Rob has become a client-expert specializing in international hair-cuts (the previous one was done on Sumatra, Indonesia). 

Our flight from San Jose was departing in early morning hours; we left our hotel about 3:30 a.m.  A small motorcycle taxi driver (jolly fellow and the honest one!) efficiently delivered us to the entrance of the tiny airport (still closed for the night).  We unloaded our large backpacks, exchanged a few jokes with a driver and waived good-bye.  There was a large group of Western tourists waiting by the airport doors.  They looked strange to us - all cleaned-up, hanging on to each other, carrying the same diving bags, and wearing the same dull facial expressions.  We must have looked strange to them as well.  When we stepped off the motorcycle taxi they looked at us like we had returned from another planet.  We knew too well the differences between their and our travel choices.  And, suddenly I began smiling - despite the challenges of the independent travel, the real experiences and real local people we encountered made our journey yet again rewarding and worthwhile.  There was that sense of bliss and reassurance we had chosen the right path...

We watched the sunrise above the small airport field, and soon enough boarded a plane.  We were on the way to our next destination - South Korea!




posted by Rob and Anna @ 9:00 AM 0 comments