Palawan

A Trike (not Jerald’s)

One day I might just worry about something that’s worth worrying about. Because I have, despite all the angst, arrived safely in the Philippines. As I’m sure you knew I would. The only moment of concern was when I checked in at Saigon airport and the clerk asked me about my flight out of the Philippines and to see my ticket. But I made no noises, at least not outwardly, about my extended stay and she didn’t mention it either. I’ve found out that the airline you arrive on is responsible for your return should you not be granted entry, which explains why they are keen to check your documents before you board. And although this is no guarantee of entry it is definitely a good indication. So the indications were good.

I suppose I did feel somewhat reassured as I found my spot in the departure lounge and noticed I’d begun to breathe normally again. But on the flight I sat next to what I can only describe as a great big man-baby. I know it’s cruel, but he had no spatial awareness whatsoever and as the journey progressed I became more and more irritated by him. We didn’t speak each other’s language either which made it all the more difficult. But maybe in hindsight a good thing. I was thinking things that were probably best kept to myself.

In fact it was a strange flight altogether. As we were coming in to land, one of the stewards had to unbuckle himself and run down the aisle to tell everyone to sit down and adhere to the seat belt sign. Then as soon as we did land it was a bun-fight. But for what, I wasn’t sure. The woman behind me swung her bag into my face as she gathered it from the overhead locker. And I’m afraid she got it. I guess I was still a little het up about getting through immigration.

These last few days of travel have not been so much fun. And I’ve been taunted by a feeling that I spoke too soon. Ninoy Aquino airport is under reconstruction and was a complete mess. Perhaps that’s what all the bun-fighting was about. I did get through immigration, albeit slowly, but without so much as a murmur of deportation or jail. It’s fair to say I was disproportionately worried. Right up until Mr Immigration stamped me good-to-go until December 13th. All I need do now is apply for an extension and I’ve heard that’s pretty straight-forward. But I haven’t felt like a seasoned world traveller at all this time around, as everything from withdrawing Philippine pesos to buying a SIM card to airport-to-hotel transfers has seemed riddled with challenges. Although it wasn’t raining. And still isn’t. No one has even heard of Ramon.

I had a quick pit-stop at a grungy hotel on Airport Road and then flew out again the next morning. It felt like the whole of Manila was flying out of tiny Terminal 4 that morning and the whole process was chaotic and again fairly painful. Not long ago, I think I might have said I didn’t want to complain. Right now, that’s all I want to do. But here I am safely landed in Puerto Princesa, Palawan, and setting about trying to work out what this next month will look like.

I’m finding it tricky though as I’m not feeling particularly settled. I know I have to give it a few days, but right now, I’m seriously thinking about getting the hell out of Dodge. I’m staying at the Jungle Guest House a few miles out of the main town and it’s okay. And I’ve found a bum-gun is also a wonderful device for dealing with bathroom ants. Yesterday, I walked to the beach and it is beautiful, but there is also something slightly wild west about it all. There are one too many stray-dogs and I can’t quite explain it, but I feel a little on edge. As though I’m on the outside of something and I don’t know how to get in. Or even if I want to. I actually checked this morning to see if the moon was messing with me.

I picked up a trike on my way back from the beach. Ridden/driven by a guy called Jerald. Trikes are the preferred mode of transport around here and they are, as far as I can see, motorbikes made into open-sided, half-cars. Welding and vulcanising shops line the roads and must do a roaring trade. Some of them are quite fancy machines, depending on what kind of car they’ve been cobbled from and, I guess, the skills of the welder. And some of them look like complete death-traps. Jerald’s trike, called Lianne, was somewhere between the two. But he got me to Robinson’s Mall and back in one piece, so yesterday, in the midst of my lull, he was my hero.

Today, I’ve paid my entrance fee and I’m going to stay by the beach-front pool at a local hotel. And ponder a bit. I have another two nights at the Jungle Guest House and then on Sunday I’m moving to a homestay in Puerto Princesa town proper. There are a couple of dive shops that I’m going to have a look at, and if they’re okay, and only if they’re okay, I’ll sign up for a couple of fun-dives. The original idea was that I’d then head up north to El Nido. It’s a 5 to 6 hour bus-ride away and the diving up there, and even further north in Coron, is supposed to be amazing. But what with my wobbliness, I’m not sure I’m ready to move further away from the emergency exit. This morning I had a conversation with George, the guy in the room next to mine, and he’s headed up to El Nido tomorrow. He says he’ll let me know what it’s like. George shares many of my initial feelings about Palawan and has been travelling for a couple of months himself through many of the same places. But we also spoke about how certain events can colour your judgement of a place. He was arriving in Saigon as England were losing the Rugby World Cup Final. He says he hates it there. But wonders now if his extreme love of Koh Phi Phi might be something to do with a victory over the All Blacks.

So. I’ll breathe a bit here by the pool, and tomorrow I’ll take a trip to the Underground River which is supposed to be incredibly beautiful. And then breathe some more before deciding what comes next.

They’ve just played Bruce Hornsby’s Mandolin Rain in the hotel bar. And, sap that I am, it’s made me weepy. It reminds me of two of my dearest friends and a holiday in Greece many, many years ago. That was an adventure too.