I needn’t have worried about the clear skies disappearing yesterday. The skies stayed clear and blue and beautiful all day long. It was probably the nicest day I’ve had in the Philippines combined with some of the nicest scenery.

Taking my bucket bath and packing up in my unusual room went without many problems. I was running out of water in my big barrel, and I had to scrape the bottom to get enough. I also had to be very careful in removing my mosquito net from the bunk bed so that I didn’t tear it. And I had to be extra careful not to leave anything behind. There were many nooks and crannies in the room and with all my gear being wet when I’d arrived, I had spread things around a lot.

A small crowd gathered when I was loading up my bike. They asked the usual questions. The new twist – something that has happened a lot in the last few days – is that a man got hold of my map and started pointing out all the places on it to me. This behavior was very common in some countries I’ve visited. The people themselves might never have seen a map of their own country and it is a great novelty for them. But then they imagine that I’m not able to read it or something because they will go over the whole thing and point out town after town after town. This can go on for a long time. I didn’t understand the impulse behind it back then, and I don’t understand it now. This man was quite insistent on showing me. He would find Tacloban and then shove the map under my nose and point out Tacloban. Then he’d look and find Guiuan and show me that place. Then he showed me a dozen other places. He wanted to be helpful, I guess, but I’m not sure where the help was supposed to lie.

I rode my bike to the eatery and found Paz sitting there. I wanted to get on the road as early as possible and I was a bit worried that I’d get sucked into a big meal there and spend a long time there. I needn’t have worried because it was a Sunday and there was no food at all. I’d forgotten about the Sunday effect. It isn’t a good day to travel in the Philippines if you rely on small eateries for your meals. They are generally all closed.

I said goodbye to Paz and then I rode through town to the bridge and stopped at the house at the bridge as I promised I would. The kitten was not in evidence, but I spent a few pleasant minutes chatting with the woman there – the single mom with seven kids. She spent an uncomfortable amount of time on the usual questions about my mode of travel and style of life, but it was early in the morning and I was still somewhat fresh and full of energy. She wanted to stay in touch, but all I could really offer her was my email address and Facebook name. She wanted a cell phone number, but I don’t have my cell phone with me and I don’t know the number. I never use that phone anyway except as a calendar and calculator. She clearly didn’t have easy access to the Internet. I’m not sure if there was even an Internet café in Lawaan. I didn’t see one anywhere. She said that she was very busy with her seven kids and her work. She had to get all the kids washed and dressed and fed before sending them off to school in the morning. Then she had to do the housework and laundry. Being a single mom, she also worked. She seemed to do a wide range of baking and cooking. She sold these products to restaurants and shops for resale. She also did odd jobs for other people when they needed a cleaner or a cook or anything like that.

The kilometers passed easily when I got on my bike and started cycling in earnest. When I came this way originally, I was focused on my knee and on finding a place to stay. I wasn’t relaxed and I hadn’t noticed how beautiful it was. This time, I was well rested and my knee was in good shape and I reveled in the lush greenery around me and the good road mostly free of traffic. The road passed through a string of beautiful barangays right on the ocean and I pulled into all of them to look around and take a picture or two when the mood struck me. I also pulled into a couple of beach resorts offering nice beach views. One of them even had a simple bungalow sitting on a platform out over the water. I didn’t bother asking how much it cost. My sense is that it would have been overpriced as all these places are. I walked over the rickety boardwalk to this bungalow to check it out and to use it as vantage point for a picture of the coast. I noticed that the interior consisted of just a bed. The walls were made of rough wood planks and there were big gaps in the walls everywhere to let mosquitoes in. My memories of previous travels in Asia gets me excited when I see places like this. I don’t mind the rough and primitive nature of this kind of accommodation. After all, I’m carrying the effects of a small civilization in my pannier bags. And my memory has places like this going for a very cheap rate. But that isn’t true in the Philippines anymore – if it ever was true. One can choose to stay in a crude shack like this out in the middle of nowhere, but you won’t save any money by it. The owners seem to think that just being near the beach makes it worth far more than it is.

I finally got to see the mysterious town of Marabut. Missing this town entirely on my trip out had had a profound effect on the entire experience. It led to my staying the night in Amambucale and meeting the barangay captain, which led in turn to meeting Jessa and his family in Guiuan. This time I was determined not to miss it and since I knew where it was located, it was easy to find. It’s just that if you are cycling fast, it would be easy to miss from the road. It is down below the road and hidden by a screen of trees. The main road doesn’t go through the town but skirts over it.

I found the entrance to the town easily and rode into the place. I was hoping that it would be an attractive and developed place of sorts with at least an eatery. It was attractive and I had a good time cycling around and taking pictures. I was a big hit with the local kids and gained quite a following of those wanting to practice their “hi” and “hello” skills. They thought it was the funniest thing ever when I replied. I even left my bicycle with the “pulis” for a while so that I could walk around on foot and take some pictures. But when it came to food, I was out of luck. I was having Sunday luck. There were obvious eateries, but they were all closed and otherwise foodless. I wasn’t too worried about this as I knew there were at least two places to stay up the road – the fancy resort at the Marabut Marine Park and the little travel lodge (where I’m currently staying). I might end up paying more than I wanted to, but at least there would be a place to stay and some food available no matter what. So it wasn’t a big deal to go without meals during the day. I had some bread in my pannier bag and lots of water, and that would have to do me. I might become irritable, but the beauty of the day and scenery and the lack of traffic meant that I probably wouldn’t have any reason to go nuts and attack anyone.

I forgot to mention that before I got to Marabut, I stopped at the barangay of Amambucale. (I took a picture of the road sign for this barangay so that I could remember the name. I had real trouble coming up with it before even though I had spent a memorable night there.) It’s a strange thing to be riding along a somewhat remote road in the Philippines and suddenly have a large group of children shout your name in greeting. But that’s what happened when I arrived. Alvin and all his friends were playing basketball on the court where I had set up my tent, and they all jumped up and down and waved and shouted “Douglas! Douglas!” It’s nice to be popular. I have to say that I’ve felt genuine and powerful surges of pleasure and happiness throughout the last few months in the Philippines. I enjoyed my time in Taiwan very much, but I rarely ever laughed or smiled while there. That’s one reason I never bothered to have a dentist fix my broken tooth. I never smiled enough to ever real the gap anyway. While in Taiwan, I found that the muscles you use to make a big natural smile weren’t even used. I know that because in the Philippines, I’ve been smiling all the time, and I can feel those muscles in action. I forgot that they were there or even how to use them. Even my longstanding claim to dislike kids is taking a beating here. I’ve quite enjoyed goofing around with the kids and making them laugh. They make me laugh, too. I find myself smiling even as I think about my encounters with the kids yesterday.

I turned my bike up the cement path that led into this barangay and the first things I encountered were two of Alvin’s rolly-polly puppies. It appears that they’d gained some courage and were out roaming around away from their mother. They were playing at the feet of an elderly woman sitting in a hammock beside the path. I got off the bike and cooed at the puppies and otherwise made a fool of myself. They’re unusually well-fed puppies – round and healthy and happy. Adorable little fluffy things.

I found the barangay captain’s wife at their house. She is the woman that was having her hair dyed on the path when I first showed up there and who had encouraged me to put up my tent there. She had been very outgoing and talkative, but she then had taken a backseat to her husband and didn’t really talk to me much. I tried to explain to her and to Alvin that yes, I had gone to Guiuan, and I had seen their relatives there. I expected this to make some kind of an impression, but it made none at all. I knew that Alvin and his parents have been to Guiuan and have even stayed in Jessa’s house – the same house that I visited. But that I had been there and talked to these people made no impression. Perhaps they didn’t understand. I expected the barangay captain to be more interested in hearing the story because it was he who had written down their names and addresses. Unfortunately, he was not at home. His wife said that he was in Marabut at a meeting.

In Marabut, I witnessed a very large gathering of people underneath a big shelter in the center of town. I heard some things in English coming over the PA system, and it seemed to be a political meeting of some sort. I assumed my barangay captain was in that meeting somewhere, but I couldn’t see him.

The scenery changed somewhat after I left Marabut. I was entering the area near the Marabut Marine Park and I started to see limestone cliffs and outcroppings here and there. After a while, I arrived at the gate of the fancy resort. I had no intention of staying there, but I was dying for a cold drink and a relaxing break.

Actually, I forgot to mention one key episode in my journey. As I said, I rode my bike into every seaside barangay that I passed. I was always rewarded with a beautiful view and excited greetings from basketball-playing children. In one barangay, I found myself at quite a large public building right on the water. There were a lot of people there and they weren’t your average villagers. These people were better dressed and seemed to be city folk. A woman greeted me and invited me to an upstairs balcony. I wasn’t sure what awaited me up there, but I found a group of eight or nine people enjoying an elaborate picnic with lots of tuba and crab and that sort of thing. Someone they knew was running for office in a local barangay, and they were all part of his support group. I never really understood who they were and where they’d come from and what they were doing, but it didn’t matter. The point of the gathering was to eat and drink be merry, and they were doing that with a vengeance. They quickly produced a chair for me and gave me a plate and a big glass of tuba and encouraged me to dig in. Not having eaten the entire day, I could have made a real feast of this encounter, but I was so busy answering “the questions” and pretending to join in the hysterical laughter that I never really had time to eat. When they learned that I was single, I was greeted with the loudest and most ear-splitting reaction yet. Apparently, three or four of these women were also single and quite eager for a husband. A foreign husband would suit them just fine and the shriek of joy and laughter that went up nearly burst my eardrums. There were endless jokes about this – jokes that I couldn’t understand – and they seemed to be of an off-color nature. Then came a round of picture-taking, with the single women crowding around me and laying their heads on top of mine and throwing their arms around me. It was quite the scene, and I found it all a bit overwhelming. I was yearning for the peace and quiet of the open road and I made my goodbyes as soon as I politely could. Once I left with my ears still ringing from the shouts and laughter, I could hardly believe that that had just happened. It contrasted sharply with the quiet beauty of the coast road I was on.

The fancy resort was a bit busier than it was the last time I had dropped in. It was the weekend and some of the cottages had been rented for large groups having a picnic. I parked my bike near the entrance under the watchful eye of a security guard and then made my way to the bar. An ice-cold San Miguel went down very well, and then I went for a walk along the beach. It was very beautiful, and I returned to my bike to get my camera. I walked the full length of the beach from one end all the way to the other snapping pictures as I went. To get to one end, I had to make my way past some rocky outcroppings. The water was only knee deep, so it wasn’t a problem. This brought me to a beautiful and isolated little cove quite near some of the limestone islets just off the shore. The sun was behind me from there, and I got some nice pictures of the area.

When I made my way back to the resort, I stopped at the bar for another cold beer. Of course they charged a premium for the beer. They were 50 pesos each plus a 20-peso entrance fee to the resort. But that was well worth it for what you got – the beer was ice cold and the scenery was fantastic.

I was under the impression that the people who worked at this resort would see lots of foreigners. And I suppose they do, but apparently they rarely saw anyone quite like me – traveling alone and on a bicycle. I was asked all the usual questions as seven or eight of the waiters and waitresses crowded around me in a circle. They asked me if I wanted to stay at the resort. I was sorely tempted. The scenery was wonderful and I’m sure the rooms would be very comfortable. Plus, they had a nice pool. Most times, I’m indifferent to pools. Going for a swim in one seems like more trouble than its worth when the ocean is right there. Yet, despite being in the Philippines, I rarely found myself on a beach that was good for swimming. The water was always extremely shallow and the ground very rocky and full of seaweed and that sort of thing. You have to take a pumpboat to the offshore islands to get to nice swimming, and I haven’t had many opportunities to do that short of renting my own private boat – at considerable expense. This pool seemed very nice. It was large and the water looked clean and inviting. It would be nice to spend some time lounging around the pool. But I told the wait staff that nice as their resort was, it was beyond my budget.

As I was walking toward my bike, one of the waiters came running up to me and said that their manager had said I could stay in one of their open-air cottages for half price. That still came to 800 pesos, so I wasn’t that excited at the offer. Still, I thought I’d check it out. Maybe it would be worth it. The waiter brought me down to the open-air cottage. It was essentially a large double bed underneath a canvas structure somewhat like a cross between a tent and a pavilion. The idea of staying there was intriguing, but I didn’t see it being worth 800 pesos, especially when I could rent quite a fancy hotel room down the road for 850 pesos. There was nothing inside this tent other than the bed. And that meant no water and no bathroom, of course. I’d have to locate these things elsewhere. And then there was the question of food. I’d be stuck in a resort with little chance to go shopping and do my cooking. I’d have to order off the resort’s menu, and that was quite expensive for one person. Like many places in the Philippines, this accommodation was intriguing but, for me, over-priced. The premium price was for the attractive setting, but I had access to that setting for 20 pesos. Besides, I saw nearly as beautiful places all day long everywhere I went on my bike. I thanked them for the offer and said that I would move on.

Back on the bike, I was feeling the effects of those two bottles of beer on an empty stomach. My legs felt heavy and unresponsive. (Though I’m EXTREMELY happy to report little pain from my knee – just the occasional twinge.) But I cycled along happily, still ducking into every barangay I came across and I soon arrived at the barangay of Legaspi and, a short distance beyond, the Western Highway Lodge.

Having spoken to the woman there before on my trip out, I was hoping for something of a warm reception, but it wasn’t to be. The woman barely looked at me and it was nearly impossible to tear her away from her TV set in the main office. I was so annoyed at her that I nearly just turned around and left. Unfortunately, that would be shooting myself in the foot. The next accommodation was down the road in Basey. I didn’t want to cycle that far. And I was very interested in exploring the barangay of Legaspi. So I really wanted to stay in this area. If I left this place in a huff, I’d have to sleep in my tent in the barangay. To be honest, that would probably have been easy enough to arrange. The problem, as always, is one of security. I can set up my tent, but then I can never leave my tent. I’m stuck there watching over it and my belongings. That makes it impossible to do all the things I need to do – get water, take a bucket bath, get food, cook, wash up, respond to the calls of nature. I don’t mind the full set of tasks that come with camping, but I can’t do them when I can’t leave the tent.

In the end, I fought down my annoyance with the woman, and I took matters into my own hands. She told me that their one regular room was occupied. That meant I could stay in an air con room or in the bunk bed room. I went back to check out the bunk bed room again. It was as small and uncomfortable as I remembered it. Clearly not worth anywhere near 400 pesos a night. They actually try to rent out both beds in that bunk at 400 pesos a night each. That seems crazy to me. I tried to negotiate a better deal with the woman if I stayed for two nights, but she didn’t seem to care whether I stayed there or not. Her attitude was “Four hundred is the price. Take it or leave it. I’m busy watching TV.”

Again, I swallowed my impatience and annoyance, and I decided to take it. I told her so, and she didn’t respond in any way. She made no attempt to register me or give me the key or open the gate so I could roll my bike inside. Nothing. I finally told her that she didn’t seem very energetic. Would she mind opening the gate for me? She finally got off her chair and opened the gate. I rolled my bike to the back and then began a series of unhappy and happy discoveries.

Among the unhappy discoveries was that they had no key to this room, so I couldn’t lock the door. A happy discovery was that the bathroom was right across the hall and had things like a sink and a toilet with a toilet seat. An unhappy discovery was that there was no water in the bathroom. A happy discovery was that I could get water in a bucket from a tap outside. An unhappy discovery was that the bottom of my bucket was split wide open. I got another bucket and filled it with water. A happy discovery was that the room came with a nice towel, nice soap, and even a tiny bottle of fancy shampoo. This indicated the very schizophrenic nature of the Western Highway Lodge. It had all these weird touches that indicated how it strived to be a somewhat special place with nice facilities. But somewhere along the way, all those plans got abandoned and it just fell apart and became your typical uncomfortable dive. Bits of the original plan were in evidence – like the nice shampoo – but the rest had succumbed to apathy and destruction.

A happy discovery was that my tiny closet with the bunk beds had a fan in the ceiling. An unhappy discovery was that you couldn’t use anything but the lowest setting. Anything more than that and the whole fan and light assembly shook and rattled and threatened to rip out and come crashing down. A happy discovery was that the bed came with a sheet. An unhappy discovery was that the one tiny window had no screen, so I couldn’t open it without letting in hordes of mosquitoes. Therefore the room became hot and uncomfortable very quickly. A very unhappy discovery was that the room itself was almost exactly six feet wide. The bed frame and mattress just fit inside that. However, my six-foot one-inch frame did NOT fit. I could not stretch out on the bed at all and I spent the entire night twisting and turning and flipping and flopping trying to get comfortable on my side with my legs curled up. Another problem was that the bed was so narrow that turning over from side to side was next to impossible. Funnily, enough the designer had thought to put a tiny wooden shelf above the bed on the wall. I thought this was a nice touch. I’ve often thought this was an essential thing to have. But the bed was so tiny that whenever I tried to move or turn over, I’d slam my elbow or my head or my back into this shelf. It was a nightmare of a night for that reason. Luckily, there were no mosquitoes in the room that I was aware of. Putting up my mosquito net in that coffin-like space would have been impossible. While I lay there, I considered just getting up and setting up my tent outside. I could use the room to store my stuff somewhat securely and then sleep in my spacious tent. I might do that tonight if I stay here another night.

A very happy discovery that inside this annex building there was also a little kitchenette. This annex was clearly designed with certain guests in mind – a family group perhaps. There is one full room at the end of the tiny hallway – Room 7. This is an air con room and has all nice facilities including its own kitchenette and TV. (I was amused to note that the one thing my hosts at this hotel did for me was to come in and lock Room 7. Apparently, they were worried that I would get fed up with the dungeon-like qualities of Room 5 and would sneak into Room 7 for some TV-watching and air-con enjoying.) This kitchenette I had access to was in keeping with the rest of the place – a good idea that somehow failed in the execution. There was a sink, for example, but no water in the tap. There were ELEVEN full electrical outlets with two plugs each, but there was nothing to plug into any of them. There were shelves, but there was nothing on the shelves but big piles of tools, old hardware, and dirt and junk. I hardly have to mention that the whole place was extremely dirty. Kind of disgusting actually. Still, from the point of view of a man staying in a room less wide than he is tall, this extra space was a godsend. And I’m nothing if not prepared, so I set up my Dromedary bag with hose attachment as my own water supply for the sink. Then I set up my Trangia stove on the counter to cook some spaghetti.

The spaghetti is connected with the happy discovery that this lodge has a fairly well-stocked store. An unhappy discovery was that nothing in the store had a price tag attached. I could only bring my selections to the counter and watch the woman calculate just how far she could go in gouging me. She just invented prices on the spot and then looked at my face to see how I reacted. She had the only game in town here, too, so I really couldn’t do anything but pay what she asked.

The best thing about the Western Highway Lodge has nothing to do with the lodge itself. This best thing is that the wonderful barangay of Legaspi is right across the road. Once I was settled in my room and had taken a quick bucket bath, I grabbed my camera and went for a walk. It was late in the afternoon, so there wasn’t much light left, but I had a wonderful time walking around and taking pictures. The people there were as friendly as everyone in the Philippines. I had lots of great chats with people ranging from the “Hey, Joe!” kids to men comparing fighting cocks to very elderly men simply hanging out on the old dock. The barangay has a beautiful setting on a river and on the ocean. It is built around a series of limestone outcroppings, making the whole place very picturesque. One end of the barangay is bounded by a group of large limestone outcroppings with a pleasant little beach right in the center. My plan is to return to the barangay today and take some more pictures and do some more exploring. In the afternoon, depending on the weather, I might ride back to the fancy resort for a dip in their pool. That sounds like a pretty good day.

 

 

Tags: barangay, barangay captain, bike, Philippines Bike Trip 2013, South Coast of Samar, tent