Sunday September 21, 2014
6:00 am. Oslob, Cebu

Back on the island of Cebu and back in Oslob. Were I a rich man, I’d probably go check out the whale sharks again this morning since I’m so close. I was actually thinking yesterday about how different life would be if you were rich. I know that’s not exactly groundbreaking, but it passed the time as I cycled. I was imagining if I had Tom Cruise money or something like that. The world would be your oyster. Were I Tom Cruise, I could just fly into Cebu or Manila and then buy a brand new motorcycle and take off. Go everywhere in the Philippines, do everything, have no problem paying for anything and then fly out and leave the motorcycle behind. Heck, even if I got to a ferry and there was some problem putting the motorcycle on the ferry – no problem. Just get on the ferry and buy another motorcycle on the other side. It would be mind blowing to have that much freedom. I didn’t end up going to Apo island because it was too expensive to hire a boat for just one person and because I imagined that the resorts on Apo island were too expensive. But it would be no problem if I were rich. Just go. With Tom Cruise money, I could just buy my own boat, use it for that one trip, and then give it away to someone.

Anyway, back in my real life, the connections to get here worked out quite well. I wrote about getting the Aleson vehicle ferry out of Siquijor. The trip across to Dumaguete was very pleasant, particularly as I got to sit beside my bicycle and guard it. I had one bad moment when a fairly large wave hit the boat and a lot of water came in through the open window and drenched me. My reflexes were just fast enough to swing the NEO out of the way and it got a sprinkle of seawater and not a full drenching.

I spent no time in Dumaguete at all. I made the snap decision to just keep cycling. I had a tiny bit of trouble finding my way out of the city, but it didn’t amount to much and I was soon cycling down the highway to Sulabin, where I could catch a boat to Cebu. It’s nice to backtrack sometimes because you don’t have to worry about things and you know exactly where to go and what to do. I got to the dock at 1:25 and learned that a pumpboat was there loading and was going to leave at 1:30. I bought a ticket for me and my bicycle for 80 pesos and then went down to the end of the dock. It was the exact same pumpboat I had taken on my trip out. I recognized it because of the large cracks between the floorboards. It wasn’t easy to disassemble the bike and carry all the bags onto the boat, but it wasn’t terribly hard either. Slow and steady wins the race and all that. I just had to be careful on the gangplank as the boat was heaving up and down quite a bit. It would have been easy to end up in the ocean along with my bags and/or bicycle. There were porters there, and I had to really rein them in. A group gathered around the bicycle and they were going to pick up the whole thing – pannier bags and all – and carry it onto the boat en masse. I managed to stop that insanity.

The pumpboat trip across was glorious. Blue skies, blue ocean, sitting at the front of the boat with the wind in my face. The trip could have gone on for a couple of hours and I wouldn’t have minded. As it was, we landed at the small dock on Cebu in a short time and I had to reverse the process of carrying out all my bags and reassembling the bike.

My plan was not firm. I could stop in Oslob for the night or I could push on as far as I could and then make it to Cebu the next day. I probably should have tried to go further, but when I got to Oslob, it was fairly late in the day, and I didn’t want to deal with a race against the clock. I hadn’t cycled that much, but it had been a long day with lots of stages. A bit of bad luck hit when I got to Oslob. There is a big conference of “singles for Christ” or something like that in town, and all the guest houses were full. It was also Saturday, and the Filipino weekend warriors were out in force. This surge in Filipino tourism has had a large effect on the country and has made it a more expensive place for people like me.

Anyway, the place I stayed at originally for 200 pesos a night was full. I then checked with Gunner’s Lodge across the street. It was also full, but I had the good luck to run into a very sympathetic and helpful caretaker. I saw that they had a nice patch of grass in the back, and they had a public bathroom and shower. Perfect for camping, and after some discussion and phone calls, the owners agreed to let me set up my tent in the back for 200 pesos. I was surprised to learn that their rooms were 800 pesos. I thought they’d be much cheaper than that. It feels weird to pay 200 pesos one night for a huge room with a private bathroom and then have to pay 200 pesos to sleep on the ground in my own tent the next night. But that’s how things are here. Pricing is all over the map as they try to deal with the fast pace of development. People keep telling me how poor the Philippines is, but I don’t believe a word of it. I had a discussion with some people about that last night, and made the point that a place like Ethiopia was poor. The Philippines is hardly a poor country anymore. Things have changed a lot here in the last couple of decades.

I met a large group of the Singles for Christ last night, and they were friendly. I can’t say that I was overjoyed with our conversation. It was – if I’m being honest – more torture than pleasure. Yet, their hearts were in the right place. Also, I did not pretend in any way. I spoke honestly, and that is always less stressful if not actually fun. I felt bad to an extent afterwards. They gave me the usual line about how friendly Filipinos are and how wonderful everything is for the foreign visitor and how helpful everyone is and on and on. I agreed with them that Filipinos were friendly, but I countered with a few of my experiences of just the last couple of weeks where I had a lot of trouble and found people to be far from helpful – such as the time when the GL Express boat crew just ignored me and wouldn’t get my bicycle from the front of the boat. They also tried out the theory that people around the world were all the same and travel is a wonderful way to spread understanding and love and all that. I told them that my experience was the exact opposite – that, for me, travel has reinforced the profound differences between people. You could say that understanding has increased but only to the extent that I understand more and more that true understanding between cultures is difficult if not impossible.

The usual package – my bicycle, my age, being single, being alone – made a very large impression on this group. They made a big deal out of it all, and I tried to tell them that there are tons of people from North America and Europe traveling in this fashion. But they still insisted on seeing me as some kind of modern hero battling against terrible odds to ride my bike.

Before I set up my tent, I went out to have dinner. The caretaker said I could leave my bags here no problem – they would be safe. I decided not to believe her and left with my fully loaded bike. Her words about it being safe would be small comfort if I returned to find even one of my pannier bags missing. Her words would not go very far toward replacing it or its contents. Anyway, I had dinner at a local carenderia. Unfortunately, the woman there was chatty and she simply could not get over my bicycle or my mode of travel. I set up my tent when I got back and I lay down inside for a bit of a rest. Around 7 p.m., I got the munchies, and set off on foot to buy some buns at a bakery to munch on. On the way, I happened to pass one of the common “buy 1, take 1” burger outlets. On impulse I stopped there. The dude asked me what I wanted, and there was some confusion. If I order one burger, do I get two? I only wanted two – the 2-for-1 deal. So I took a chance and said that I would like 2 burgers. That would be 2 total. But he took it literally and slapped four patties on the grill. I was paying for 2 and “taking 2”. I don’t know if this is a travel skill, but over the years I’ve definitely mastered the art of letting things slide. I can see another person trying to tell them that no, they only wanted 2 burgers, not 4, and it would lead to a big mess. But when things like that happen, I just let it go. The total bill for 4 burgers was going to be about one dollar. And I could certainly eat four of them or even save two for breakfast. It really didn’t matter.

I would have eaten them there, but there were two young boys constantly asking me for money. They were very annoying, and I got up and left once I got my burgers in a bag. The funny thing is that the Singles for Christ group were all gathered around a table back at Gunner’s Lodge eating rice. Now I walk in and confirm one of their main beliefs – that all Americans hate rice and only eat hamburgers. After all, I walked in with four hamburgers in a bag. So they start asking me about Filipino food and why I don’t like rice and they recommend all kinds of Filipino dishes. I made a feeble attempt to paint a picture for them of how a cyclist survives – by eating local food at the side of the road all the time. It’s normal. But it was impossible to convince them, and the lecture about all the great Filipino dishes went on and on.

In a way, our conversation was a good example of cultural differences at many levels. This group proved that Filipinos were friendly in that they engaged me in conversation and included me in their group and they poured me a cold glass of Sprite from the bottles that they purchased. I suppose they’d be hurt and surprised if they could see inside my mind and see just how painful the conversation was for me. And rather than feel happy about the Sprite, I felt guilty that I was taking Sprite away from them. They even got down to the last bit in the last bottle, and a guy got up to pour himself some more. But he took the bottle over to me and tried to pour it into my glass. I waved it off. He clearly wanted more Sprite, so I didn’t want to deprive him of it. It’s a dumb point to make, but it kind of illustrates how this old-fashioned pride in hospitality can have the reverse effect. It can make guests uncomfortable rather than comfortable. We Westerners are often happier when left alone and left to fend for ourselves. But their cultural mindset insists on drowning us in hospitality.

The night was interesting mainly because of the noise. The main road was just a short distance away from my tent on the other side of a wall, and the roar of motorcycles and trucks never really stopped. There was horrific karaoke coming from different directions and then I heard a thumping nightclub beat start up somewhere. In the early morning hours, I became aware of the animal noises. That was almost overwhelming – barking dogs, crowing roosters, and some crazy loud sounds coming from some kind of tree dweller. I have no idea what that last animal was, but it was so loud and the sound it made went on so long that it actually shut up the roosters. They couldn’t compete.

I fired up my Trangia when I got up, and I’ve been enjoying a cup of coffee despite the hordes of mosquitoes and flies. The caretaker was here very early, and she was interested in my stove. Part of her job is to put hot water inside thermoses that are on the table, so she told me that I didn’t need to boil water. She was so insistent on this that I felt compelled to reply. It was another classic Doug moment. I just have such specific requirements. When I have coffee, I want the water to be boiling hot – raging hot – as hot as possible. If the water is just lukewarm, then I’d rather not have coffee at all. So I explained to her that the water that you find in those thermoses all over the Philippines is never hot enough for me. That’s why I always boil my own water. I guess I was criticizing her water-heating technique, but I was really criticizing the quality of those cheap thermoses. They don’t keep water hot for very long – at least not hot enough for me.

I suppose that’s the end of my story for this morning. I’m not sure if any eateries are open, but I’m going to look for something to eat. I can feel the urge to just get on the road, but that would lead to irritation. It’s hard for me to do, but I know that I should always have a good breakfast.

Tags: bike, Oslob, Philippines Bike Trip 2013, tent