A few days have passed since my last entry, and I haven’t done anything to write about. I’m still in Tacloban. I should have left days ago, but a very bad weather system passed through. There were heavy thunderstorms every single day, and I delayed my departure each day. I intended to move to a cheaper hotel, but I was too lazy even for that, and I’m still in the relatively expensive Your Home Pensione. I found I was very happy to have the air conditioning, my own bathroom, the quiet, the security, and even the TV. The neighborhood also turned out to be very good. There are a number of good eateries and bakeries right around the corner, and it is a straight shot up Santa Nino Street to my favorite coffee shops. And every day, I discovered more wonderful coffee shops, bakeries, and restaurants. Tacloban is quite well-stocked with luxuries and I’ve been indulging in chocolate cake, mango shakes, brownies, baked goods, and café latte. Every time I turn a corner, I come upon another interesting coffee shop or bakery to try out.

That doesn’t mean that Tacloban is Paris or anything like that. It has a very rough side, too. I actually found myself a bit on edge late at night a few times as I was riding around. The roads were filled with smelly garbage and dangerous looking people were hanging out. It felt like an old wild west town when all the good townspeople have retreated indoors and the evil gunslingers have taken over the streets.

The weather finally broke last night, and I woke up to clear blue skies and fluffy white clouds. That’s good, but the heat came back, too, and I could feel the sun beating down on my shoulders as I rode to my favorite coffee shop. I was up quite late last night as there was a neighborhood fiesta underway. It was very interesting to watch. Were I the host of a travel show, I’d have been out there dancing in the street with the locals. As it was, I was content to hang back and simply watch the festivities. I was waved over by a few groups of drunk men, but I pleaded other business. I suppose, again, if I were in a travel show, I’d have joined the locals for a drinking session. However, there is nothing more boring and painful than hanging out with drunk local men. At least for me.

I’ve made that “travel show” comment twice largely because while waiting for the weather to break, I’ve been watching a lot of travel shows on the little TV in my room. I’ve long had a like/dislike relationship with these shows. I enjoy them because they show interesting places around the world, but I’m always critical of how they misrepresent the reality of travel itself. Well, I guess they don’t misrepresent it. They simply deal with the problems by throwing money at them. So the travel show host generally meets up with the local guide and then is escorted to this or that quaint location to sample food or see something interesting. That’s a very different experience from doing things on your own. That’s why ages ago, I enjoyed the Lonely Planet travel show. That show also glossed over most of the real problems you face when overseas, but they showed at least some of them.

While trapped in my room by thunder and lightning, I also got caught up on the modern trend of reality TV shows. I hadn’t seen any of these while in Taiwan, so I found them interesting. There were shows about logging companies competing to get the most timber and mining companies competing to get the most gold out of their mines. I also watched a show about a guy who restores old things, another guy who restores cars and motorcycles, and a third show about two guys that travel around looking for things to buy for their shop. I guess they are called “pickers”. There was a show about a famous pawnshop in Las Vegas, another about teams competing to ship unusual items around the country, shows about people bidding on abandoned storage lockers, shows about extreme makeovers for people and others about extreme makeovers for houses to increase their resale value, a show about swamp people who catch alligators, and a billion shows about cooking. The cooking shows were by far the least interesting to me but they were also the most numerous. People must be fascinated with food. I even saw my first episodes of some famous shows that I’d only heard about: Hoarders, Animal Hoarders, and the Dog Whisperer. It was a weird feeling to lose myself in these shows from the West and then step outside into Tacloban when it was time to get something to eat or run an errand. In a way, it wasn’t healthy. I’d be transported to the ease of life in the West and then suddenly have to adjust to life in the Philippines all over again.

Personally, I found most of the shows quite interesting. I’d had some experience in the logging industry and I could relate to the logging show very much – particularly when it came to how tough it was and how mean the men could be. There was one show where a rookie logger quit, and I could relate to him very much. The loggers thought he was weak and a sissy and just couldn’t handle the tough life. But it wasn’t that. He could have handled the work and the physical discomfort. It was being constantly yelled at and insulted and ridiculed that bothered him.

I also enjoyed the restoration show. What those guys do seems like magic to me. People who can work with their hands and tools and build things seem like gods to me.

Anyway, it has been a weird few days – living in the Philippines but not being here inside my mind or even physically most of the time. I made no effort to meet anyone here, either, so I’ve been alone this entire time. My only human contact has been of the usual variety – people asking me about my lack of a wife, lack of companions, etc. That conversation has gotten worse and worse to the point that I actively avoid all contact with Filipinos. I just can’t take it anymore. I’m very aware now that pretty much everyone here views me in that light. The vast majority of the foreign men they have ever met, seen, or heard of are here because they are married to a local woman or are looking for a local woman to marry. It’s natural for them to assume that I am part of that group. A few times I’ve managed to get beyond that initial interrogation, but then there is very little meat on the bone of our conversation. It’s odd. You’d think that since so many people speak English and that the country is so Westernized that we would have a lot in common and our interaction would be quite natural. But I find the opposite is true. We seem to stare at each other in incomprehension from quite a distance – a much greater distance than I experienced in Taiwan or many other countries. There’s a rhythm to the life here that eludes me completely – a rhythm based in family and friends and laughter. The people seem almost childlike to me. Not being a very lighthearted person, I can’t find it in me to join in the joking and laughing and giggling that never seems to stop. And, unlike most countries in Asia, there isn’t the richness of culture and art and cuisine to distract me. It’s a consumer culture, a pop culture, just like that of the West. My day-to-day experience of the place consists of fast food, traffic, concrete, shopping, and the same five pop songs over and over again. I’m astonished still at how fat the people are. They appear to be getting fatter right in front of my eyes. That could be because I’ve spent so much time in cafes and all I see around me are tables of immense people shoveling more and more sugar into their mouths. There are eight other people in this café as I write, and six of them I would call obese. Almost everyone walking by outside is fat. It looks worse because people are also cramming themselves into very tight designer jeans.

I’ve been to the Philippines more times than any other country, I think, and people have even suggested that it would be a good place for me to settle down in since I like it so much. But it’s pretty clear that all of my previoius trips took place in a type of backpacker bubble. True, I did ride a bike on Palawan and then a motorcycle, but I was still protected in the backpacker bubble. So far on this trip, I’ve been largely just hanging out in normal Filipino towns, and, though it has been very interesting, it certainly hasn’t been anywhere near as pleasurable as previous trips. My rather dour and serious personality doesn’t fit in here.

I haven’t made much progress either in terms of planning the next part of my trip. I’ve been so engrossed in chocolate cake, brownies, and reality TV that I haven’t spent any of my usual time pouring over maps and planning.

I did, however, find out one key bit of information. I tracked down the phone number of the Aleson Shipping Company in Zamboanga and after a few tries, I found a person there who could give me information about the ferry to Sandakan in Malaysian Borneo. I had heard long ago that it was cancelled because of the fighting in Sabah. If it wasn’t running, then I’d have to find a new way to get out of the country. But, assuming I understood this woman properly, I learned that the ferry is running again. It leaves every Monday morning and sometimes on Thursday morning. Our conversation went around in a lot of circles and I found her answers mostly incomprehensible in the usual way, but through it all it seemed clear that whatever the exact details, the ferry is actually operational. So that’s good news and it gives me a place to aim for.

Just to finish up a few details: my bike light has worked out well. I have taken my bike out at night many times, and the headlight is really powerful. It lights up the road ahead of me quite well, and I’m pleased with it. My tubes seem to be working out well, too. And I made my adjustments to my “valuables system.” I tried wearing my money belt for a couple of days, but it was horribly uncomfortable. It was clear there was no way I could wear one for any length of time. Then I remembered that long ago, I dealt with this in a different way. My money pouch has a couple of belt loops on it. With those belt loops, I can hang the pouch from my belt, but it hangs on the inside of my pants, not the outside. This works very well. It essentially is operating like a money belt but one that simply hangs down along my thigh instead of wrapped around my stomach. I’ve been using that system for a few days, and I like it. The only problem is that it is so comfortable that I keep forgetting it is there. I have my passport and other most important items in that money pouch, and I experience a moment of panic once in a while as I can’t feel it. Then I plunge my hands over my body feeling around until I find the thing. Sigh of relief.

 

 

Tags: bike, Philippines Bike Trip 2013, Tacloban, Taiwan, TV