Jac’s Journey

Corrupt politicians, the scourge of sex tourism, slow-paced economic development, stark inequalities with grinding poverty for the masses and immense wealth for the lucky few, Muslim-Christian tensions manifesting in terrorism, killings, kidnappings and a “don’t go there” notice on the UK FCO website for the southern islands. Enough to put you off the Philippines, eh?

Problems aplenty, but the Filipinos don’t seem to mind. The people I spoke to about politics seemed to enjoy poking fun at the government and it’s inadequacies. Some of the poorest people I saw were among the happiest, despite the rusting corrugated iron roof, complete with holes, on their shack. Lack of a functioning social safety net means a lot of people sleep on the streets, and contrasted against the trappings of wealth, designer stores in the mall and shiny new buildings, it made me sad to see it. And angry when I saw the fat, balding, sleazy western men taking advantage and strolling along with a teenage Filipina on their arm.

But somehow, the Filipinos, in general, seem to be quite happy with their lot.

Academics (with too much time on their hands or inattentive funders) have developed a range of surveys to measure who are the ‘happiest people on earth’. The come up with all kinds of crazy measurements (many of which have nothing to do with happiness), but in any case, the Filipinos always score well and are widely recognised as the happiest people on earth.

In my short time and experience here, I believe it.

The Filipinos have a special secret that enables them to keep smiling. No matter what. It’s as if they accept and work with whatever they have in life. One friend said to me, “Why be unhappy because you don’t have something? Why not be happy with what you do have?” Why not indeed?

For Filipinos, family and friends are everything. People are generally surrounded by large extended families. Everyone works with, eats with, lives with, parties with, their family members. You should see the crowds at remote bus stops to see one person on their way back to Manila. Seriously. I counted 20 people at the bus stop for 2 passengers who actually got on the bus.

And they sing. All the time. Regardless of talent, or lack of it, and with plenty of gusto. Once, stopping at a bus rest-stop on the way back from Vigan, I heard this god-awful singing coming from behind the restaurant area. A few families lived by the river, in nipa huts on stilts, and had obviously borrowed or chipped in for a videoke machine (huge – about the size of a ‘puggy’). This woman was chronic – really – worse than me – and was singing at the top of her voice with a huge smile on her face. Her young son was singing with her and everyone was smiling. Who’d have ever thought karaoke could bring so much happiness?

A Filipino friend in Manila told me that singing is good for the health. It makes you feel good, reduces stress, makes you happy.

So, d’you know what? I’m taking a leaf out of the Filipino happiness book. I’m going to sing. At the top of my voice. As often as I can. Even though I’m rubbish. So get used to it.

It took 2 days to get there. As I approached the end of my bone-shaker bus journey, squashed between two Filipinos most of the way (you know the way; you wiggle your shoulders but always seem to be a couple of inches short on space, ending up with your shoulder blades crushed together and no room for your arms), I was cursing under my breath, ‘bloody remote beaches, it better be worth it…’

Tricycle (aka motorcycle-with-sidecar), boat, bus, taxi, another taxi, ferry, bus, another boat, and finally, I was there. Driftwood Village, Sugar Beach. And it is worth it.

A beautiful beach, about half a mile long, with perfect sand, shallow sea, traditional nipa huts made from natural materials, yet with the comforts of a hot shower, fantastic food, cold beer and good company.

Bliss. Exactly what I was looking for after partying in the New Year on Boracay.

Arriving into Sipalay, I granted myself permission to do absolutely nothing. I’ve been rushing around being a tourist, climbing mountains, stomping around cities, and it was time to take it easy. Hong Kong beckons again soon, and then it’s back to more adventuresome travel. So. I. Did. Nothing.

The sheer joy of swinging in a hammock, reading a great book is incredible. Sitting chatting with people over dinner, taking up the table-football challenge, playing cards, writing stories, drinking beer, having a massage, sleeping. It’s so chilled and relaxed here I’ve even enjoyed it when the rain has tipped down all day.

A huge part of it, as always, was the people here. I’d say this was the place where I best experienced Filipino hospitality. Daisy, Dina, Corry, and all the gang are Filipina National Treasures. I was wrapped up in their care and attention, never wanting for anything, and looking on amazed as they sang, smiled and were generally so goddam happy that they taught me a thing or two.

Some really interesting characters came through the resort in the week I was there, bringing plenty of entertainment. It was hard to say goodbye, but after a week on my heavenly remote beach, I was ready to start building up the energy again and get back to some adventures.

Sipalay

…Welcome to the Hotel Boracay!

I originally thought I would stay here until 28th December, then thought ‘What the hell? Stay for New Year’, then caught an ear infection from diving and decided to stay a little longer ’til it cleared up. Still here, and Boracay ain’t such a bad place to hang around.

Boracay will soon be in all the Worldwide holiday brochures, if it isn’t already. Shangri-La are building a 1200-room hotel and apparently a couple of other big hotel chains are moving in to the south of White Beach. That’s progress for you. The people here aren’t too happy about the pace of development, and laments of ‘it was even more beautiful 15 years ago’ are common, but at the same time, the money keeps rolling in, so there’s a limit to the action to slow the pace of change.

And it is really beautiful here.

White-sand beach, great sunsets, beachfront hotels and guesthouses, pubs, clubs, great food, all without straying more than a few metres from the sand. Combine this with the warmth and humour of the Filipino people, their happy faces, constant singing, love of a good party, relaxed nature and their ability to find happiness wherever they are in life, and you have the perfect recipe for a dream beach holiday.

Crikey, I could write the blurb for Thomas Cook!

It’s been a funny old time. I missed my family and friends so much over Christmas; I really wished I could have been with you all, and had to keep reminding myself that I’m really lucky to be here and to be chasing my dream. New Year was easier, but then that has fewer traditions for me, so I was pining for home a little less.

Camilla and Malue were the perfect party-animal chums for Boracay. When you leave the quiet and seclusion of Boat Station 3 and head towards the madness of Boat Station 2, you could be in Mallorca. Well, maybe not quite, but you catch my drift; bars, clubs, food from every corner of the globe. It has been the ideal place to spend Christmas and New Year; a haven of sun, sea, sand and nonsobriety. Well, until I needed the antibiotics for my ear infection and ended up with 10 days off the beer…thankfully 10 days from January 2nd!

Next stop is a remote corner of the Philippines called Sipalay. On the far western tip of Negros, it sounds like the perfect place to relax, do nothing and well, do nothing. Heaven!

Boracay

Wishing you all a Happy New Year and a brilliant 2008!

I saw in the New Year 8 hours ahead of you all, dancing on the beach in Boracay with Camilla and Malue. It was a brilliant New Year – one of the best. The ‘club’ (beach) was jammed, people were partying all over the place. One of my favourite moments was when the three of us were joined by a big group of Filipinos and we all ended up dancing round our discarded flip flops on the beach. It seems I can’t escape the Glaswegian tendency to dance round handbags…

Needless to say, the inevitable 1st January hangover is not so much fun…

I had planned to send Happy New Year text messages, but got my phone wet when I was dancing in the sea. It’s drying out in the room, but I think I can say a sad farewell to it, and need to buy a new one. Oh well, one mobile phone eaten by the travel fairies!

Wishing you all the very best for an amazing 2008 – hope it brings you all the happiness you dream of.

Lots of love
Jacsxxx

I’ve started a book club!

You can find it at the top right hand corner of the page.

Please, please recommend the great books you’ve read and I’ll pick them up on the road.

Thanks!

I agonised over this. Where exactly should I spend Christmas?

I always spend Christmas with my family. There has never been a Christmas Day when I didn’t see my mum, dad and sister. This Christmas was going to be tough; being on the other side of the world missing my family, and my beloved niece Hope’s first Christmas. I know I am fulfilling my dream, and having an amazing time, but this was going to be one of those difficult times.

In the end I plumped for Boracay. The major beach resort in the Philippines.

Great choice!

Villa Camilla was the perfect choice. Welcomed by the lovely Jingjing calling ‘Hello Miss Jackie, you’re here!’ as I walked into the lobby with my backpack, I got a warm feeling before I put my bag down. The view from the guesthouse reception is of white sand beach perfection, framed by palm trees, with a wonderful restaurant and bar to my left and freelance beach masseurs on the right. A barefoot stroll along the beach path brings me into the heart of the action – even a Shopping Mall! Although most of the mall is outdoors with a sandy floor…

The plan was to arrive and chill out on the beach for a few days. But, before I could get the chance, I’d signed up for a course to learn to scuba dive. I went on the course the two days before xmas, took Christmas and Boxing Day off, then went back to complete it the next day. And I am now a certified open water scuba diver!

Learning to dive was not only a great way to keep myself busy over Christmas, it’s was good to flex my brain muscles learning a new skill and boy, do I enjoy diving! There was something very special about seeing my first ever coral reef on Christmas Eve.

I remember asking Colin at work what it was about diving that he enjoyed so much. I’ll try to describe what I like…

The sensation of breathing underwater is exhilirating. It’s wonderful to be somewhere that humans are not supposed to be, looking in on a different world. The soft corals are delicate and colourful, the different types of fish swim along beside me, sometimes away from me, and sometimes are so curious they stare at me through my mask, making me laugh. Today, diving at Friday’s Rock, I was surrounded by shoals of fish; snapper, trigger fish, and loads of others I didn’t know. I even saw a sea snake. Diving is surprisingly relaxing. I was floating weightless in the water and just watching what’s going on around me. A gentle kick of my fins and I was moving forward. It’s a really personal experience, even though I’m always close to my diving buddy, because all of the experience is through my own eyes, in my own head, my own sensations.

I reckon my powers of description are falling short here – any other divers out there please comment and make my description a bit better!

Meeting up with the lovely Camilla and Melue (from the guesthouse in Manila) has made the evenings so much fun, particularly the drunken Christmas Eve night out. We’re all hanging around here until 2nd January, so there’s another ‘big girl’s night out’ out coming up for New Year…

Photos to follow soon…

This is more like it!

Vigan is what the Philippines might have looked like if it hadn’t been bombed to bits during WW2. With incredibly beautiful Spanish Colonial architecture, Vigan is now a UNESCO world-heritage site.

As I wandered through the squares and streets, gazed up at the pretty capiz shell windows and shutters, I was in raptures. I’m realising how much I enjoy ‘old’ things when I travel. New places like Baguio are fun, but places like Vigan touch me in a much more meaningful way. It was like being taken back in time, looking at the old buildings, with kalesas parked in front of them – traditional Philippine ‘horse and cart’ taxis.

Well, most things are old…

Here’s my journey on a kalesa through the mestizo district.

Unlike the rest of the Philippines, where everything is new, it’s really common for buildings to have been built in the 1700s here. I was shown around the stunning Arzobipado, running into the Archbishop of Vigan as he went about his business. The Jose Burgos House and Museum was a really interesting exhibition of this Filipino martyr as well as a museum of traditional Vigan houses.

The Provincial Jail, just along from Father Jose’s house was a really interesting experience. I wasn’t sure if it was a real jail or a museum, like the one in Inverary. I heard some singing coming from inside. Turned out it was the 194 inmates – male and female – singing as part of a religious service being carried out by the chaplain. I was taken in and shown the inside of the jail. The inmates were all highly amused by me, but didn’t seem surprised that someone had been allowed in. It felt a little odd and I left fairly quickly.

It reminded me of a girl I’d met in Manila. A lovely girl, over from Sweden, doing some research into juvenile crime in the Philippines. Apparently men and women are generally separated in Filipino prisons, but there are no separate jails for minors who commit crimes. So young boys are put into prison with male adult offenders. In it’s worst guise, young boys who are awaiting trial (i.e. could be innocent) are held in prison with adult offenders. Sometimes the worst of offenders. It can take a year for their case to come to court. You can imagine the terrors and abuse they suffer, what they learn inside and what it does to them when they come out. Horrific.

Vigan Jail, a small provincial operation, didn’t seem to be like this. I asked whether there were any minors there, but no, apparently only adults. Thank heavens!

I passed a really nice couple of days in Vigan; wandering around the old sites, eating traditional Ilocos food, drinking tea and reading. But it was time to move on. The beach was long overdue and it was time to head back to Manila and on to Boracay!

Vigan

Sending lots of Christmas love and wishes to you from across the miles.

Hope you all have a wonderful time over the festive season.

I miss you all so much, and am thinking of you all the time.

Hope Santa’s good to you!

Lots of love
Jacsxxx

Disappointed at having to forego Batad, next day I got on the bus to Baguio. 5 hours, according to the Lonely Planet. I paid my 3 pounds 60p for the bus and off we went.

The bus was quiet at first and I managed to get some kip. At the next big town a load of people got on, and some had to stand. I made friends with Joyce and Genesis, two lovely Filipino people beside me. Joyce soon got off and Genesis and I chatted for hours. Eventually I asked ‘what time do we arrive into Baguio?’ ‘Oh, around 2 or 3 in the morning’ Genesis replied.

10 hours.

Get yer lucky white heather!

In the last 24 hours, I’d taken a tumble off the side of a rice terrace, got sunburnt, hurt my knee, had to cancel trekking in Batad, chased massive cockroaches and spiders out of my room, and now my 5 hour bus journey was going to take 10. Sheesh.

A few months ago, I’d have gone nuts at this point. Instead, I just gave myself a mental ticking off for not asking the question ‘and how long does the journey take?’ and settled down to enjoy the (long) journey.

Genesis was a really interesting guy. In his mid-50s with a smiley, friendly face, he chatted to me about how he had found God, and changed his ways from the ‘ways of the city’ he had followed in his youth. He had converted from Catholic to Protestant and we had a really interesting chat about why he had changed. He told me about the business he runs – selling chilli sauce all over the world. (If anyone’s interested, it’s organic stuff, grown in the Philippines from a Texan-born chilli seed.) He’s been checking up on me to make sure I’m safe and sound ever since, and has promised to help me out if I ever need any help while I’m in the Philippines. A lovely guy.

My three days in Baguio were fairly non-eventful. I chilled out to recover from my adventure in Banaue and wandered around the city. It didn’t have much to catch my interest though, as it was all brand new, having been bombed during WW2 and then flattened by an earthquake in 1990. The most interesting bit was the people – the population is expanded by a huge amount of university students from all over the Philippines, making the feel of the city very young, fun and creative.

The other really interesting thing to happen in Baguio was the journey out. Having checked the bus times (and how long the journey was) I headed to the bus station in plenty of time. I tried to buy a ticket but was told that I couldn’t until the bus arrived (really stupid way to sell tickets, if you ask me). I settled in for the wait and an hour later, when someone came along offering me a seat in a minibus to La Union (where I could connect to Vigan) for a pound, I jumped in the van full of Filipinos and had a brilliant journey.

We chatted about everything; religion, politics, tourism, marriage, divorce, size of families, food, cost of living, you name it. My favourite line was when one of the guys was talking about the Filipinos having a higher birth rate than Scotland (their average family size is 6) and he said with a raucous chuckle “the Filipinos’ favourite pastime is to make babies”. I left the van in La Union with a huge smile and yet more new friends.

Baguio

The world-heritage listed mud-walled rice terraces at Banaue were created 2000 years ago by the Ifugao tribe. Their compatriots also built stone-walled rice terraces at various places in the vicinity, including Batad. This was one of my main reasons for heading to North Luzon.

And boy, did I have an adventure.

I should probably start this story by letting you know that ‘I’m absolutely fine’.

And now for the tale…

A night bus from Manila. After travelling across China, an 8 hour bus journey doesn’t raise an eyebrow. A little less comfortable than Chinese night buses but a few hours kip nonetheless. Arriving into Banaue at 6am, a few of us from the bus checked into the same guesthouse. The others promptly crashed out, but I stayed up, had breakfast and then headed out trekking with my guide, Christopher, to see the rice terraces.

It was a gorgeous day. Not a cloud in the sky and the beauty of the rice terraces, stacked up the side of the steep mountains was breathtaking. Exactly what I’d been hoping for travelling north.

I spent about an hour at the view point at the top, just drinking in this amazing view and being dazzled by the sun glinting on the water of the rice terraces. Eventually, I tore myself away from the view and we began our trek back to the guesthouse. 3 hours through the rice terraces. An easy trek, considering you’ve just got off the night bus. That’s what my guide said. We can do the hard 7 hour trek to Batad tomorrow. Sounded great to me!

The first warning sounded when we descended concrete steps into the valley between two mountains. Despite the fact that I’ve done plenty of this kind of stuff in China, the last time was actually Tibet. A month ago. The muscles in my legs were protesting. A quick stretch and it was on with things.

Warning two came along after about an hour. Walking along the narrow concrete pathways, about as wide as a gymnast’s beam, at the edge of the rice terrace, we came to an overgrown section where the ‘beam’ was wet and covered with moss. My left foot slipped and I had one leg in the rice field with water up to my shin.

Laughing at my stupidity, I realised it was one of those days when I didn’t have a great deal of balance and coordination going on – they come round every so often. I relieved Christopher of his long walking stick and used that for the rest of the trek.

And finally, all warnings over, I reached a broken section of the pathway and had to leap about 70cm to the next bit of the path (still only as wide as a gymnast’s beam!).

Plugging Christophers walking stick into the water I gingerly jumped, landed on the gymnast’s beam of a walkway, wobbled, lost my balance and toppled over the side. I rolled maybe a metre downhill, hit a tree, got my foot tangled in long grass and ended up hanging upside down on the rice terrace edge.

I am still quite surprised how I handled this at the time. I grabbed the tree and pulled myself up, with Christopher’s help, and was back on the ‘beam’ in no time.

‘Right, let’s go’. Christopher needed a rest though – at this point he was more shaken up than me. We sat for a bit, I put some germolene on a scratch on my knee and checked there were no other injuries.

About 20 minutes later, walking along ‘the beam’ I paid some more attention to the precipitous drop-offs to my right. The thought crossed my mind ‘If I fell right now, I’d be a gonner’.

And with that my confidence left me as quickly as a street vendor who realises I don’t have any money. I couldn’t wait to get back on a wide pathway!

Eventually making it back to the ranch, my muddy trousers with blood seeping through the knee and sunburnt skin (yes, on top of all this, I got sunburnt too!) made me a sight for sore eyes.

Later my knee began to ache and next morning I decided I would be a fool to do anymore rice terrace trekking – the last thing I need are damaged knees when I need to carry a backpack around. So sadly, I couldn’t go to Batad as you need to walk part of the way to get there.

Although disappointed I couldn’t go to Batad, and a bit shook up from my ‘I could have died’ experience, within a really short time I was laughing about it. Just wait til I recount it in the pub one day. The rice terrace will be a lot higher, the tree will be 10 metres down the hill and the gap I jumped will have stretched to 3 metres.

Banaue