Where am I now? Oh yeah, still in the first week, Wednesday. I was in the Philippines for 18 days and I’m just now getting to Wednesday. Still there has been no mention of the quiet little island town of Santa Fe where I left my heart, so today the topic will be the transition from cock jokes with a bunch of dicks (kidding, week one couldn’t have been spent in better company) to my time alone on the island. This particular Wednesday we left Sagada in route back to Manila to get Leo back to the airport on Thursday. We had all come to the Philippines during the raining season taking our chances that the weather would be nice the majority of the time, which it was. This day, however, was in the extreme minority. It absolutely poured rain all day as we drove through the mountains, which was frankly really scary. Thanks again to Joe for being a great driver and to the good people at Toyota for making the Camry.
After a long day on the road we crashed at The Robelle House again, who should pay me royalties for mentioning them. If you are ever in Manila, stay there. If you are ever in Baguio, go to the Red Lion. Ever in Sagada? Go to the Kimchi House. Ever on the island of Mindoro?? Stay with grandma. I got ahead of myself with the last one but I’m expecting checks from the first three. I will give all of my propers to the Onde Guesthouse when I get to Santa Fe as well. Anyway… what was I talking about? Oh yeah, we were back in Manila. Seeing how Zach had three more days in the country and how two of his days were essentially spent in transit we decided to shift gears and go somewhere tropical and island like. Therefore we decided on a tropical island, a logical choice, near Manila—an island by the name of Mindoro.
Before we left for Mindoro I had bought a round trip plane ticket to Cebu for that Sunday, when Zach and Joe would leave and I would be on my own. While it was fun having travelling partners I was also looking forward to fulfilling my own agenda but greatly enjoyed Mindoro for the time being. We stayed in a little resort town on the beach called Puerto Galera where we did tropical island stuff for 2 ½ days while I got zero photos. Since there are no photos, other than this one of the three of us standing in front of a giant painting of a tropical beach sunset, my words will have to suffice.
If you are still reading at this point then I just have say thank you and must wonder what you’re thinking. Now for a few comments on Mindoro, where there are no real stories other than getting massages on the beach, snorkeling, swimming, drinking San Miguels, swimming, fire dancers, mango smoothies, San Miguels, more swimming, tranny bars full of trannies (I still can’t figure out what the hell was up with that), sunshine, white sand, palm trees, annoying peddlers, grandma, and a spider the size of my fist in my room. There were also a few San Miguels in the mix. Most of these items speak for themselves but I feel I should explain grandma and the spider. I’ll let the tranny bar rest. The guest house where I stayed, the name of which escapes me, was run by a very nice lady I referred to as “grandma” who is a—get this—grandmother. She had been all over the world and we talked at length about Japan, seeing how we had both climbed Mt Fuji. The first evening I stayed there, when I walked into my room to change from my swimming gear into my evening gown there was a spider the size of a tarantula in the corner. I went immediately to grandma and told her there was an enormous spider and asked if she had a jar or glass. I think she had misunderstood my intention of catching this thing and sent her little girl with a broom to take care of it. I’m fairly certain they are still mocking me for being afraid of this thing… however, I just wanted to catch it to show Joe and Zach. Also, I didn’t like the idea of sleeping in a room with a gigantic spider that might crawl all over my face or into my mouth while I was asleep. Well, for all I know, it did. It was nowhere to be seen when the little girl with the broom came to the room to kill the spider I was presumably afraid of. Anyhoo, it wasn’t very easy sleeping in that room that night, but I did.
While I really enjoyed this island and its natural beauties I was ready to move on after a couple of days. It gets a little old having people wave things for you to buy in your face over and over. I probably said “No, thank you” four hundred times on this island. I wasn’t in the market for pearls (everybody was selling them), bracelets, necklaces, blowguns, or really any kind of souvenir. However, they never stopped trying. This is something that I’ve dealt with in varying degrees in Southeast Asia. As far as persistence and annoyance goes I would rate Mindoro better than Cambodia but worse than Indonesia and Thailand.I knew at this point that I wanted to go someplace where I could relax and not be hassled, and I can’t overstate just how massively I hit the motherload at my next destination in that department. We left Mindoro on Saturday and went to The Robelle House yet again. Not wanting to deal with the hassle of people in Manila trying to rob me, scam me, or sell me Viagra I didn’t leave the hotel that evening. Seeing how I had nearly two full weeks left, I didn’t feel any sense of urgency to do something. Zach and Joe would leave the next day and I would move on to stage two of my extended vacation.
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