Beautiful to be back in Sydney

This week has been wonderful and every once in a while, I have to pinch myself that I am really in Sydney. My mother picked me up at the airport and what I treat. Travelling for so many years, I got accustomed to taking myself. But after almost 20 hours of travelling, my mother's smiling face greeted me back home. Home is Sydney!

Boracay – Day 3 – Snorkelling and swimming

Laurent and Mattheau met me at D-Mall this morning at 10:00 so we could all go snorkeling together. They had already found a tour and we had to hurry because the boat was waiting for us. I say boat but it is more like an overgrown canoe with a cover, open sides, and huge bamboo poles out to the sides for balance. The crew were Filipino sea men, dark skinned from the sun, tattooed, sturdy balancing on the bamboo poles, and smiling.


Shoving off from the beach proved difficult so Laurent and Mattheau hopped off to help push. Off we set on a gorgeous 6 hour tour around Boracay Island with 5 stops, including a buffet lunch. The first stop was snorkeling and the water again so beautiful but not that many little fishes. We saw a purple star fish – one of the crew brought it to me underwater. Second stop was Crystal Cove – a bit of a bust. An “optional” 150 pesos to go see a cave. I opted not and stayed on the beach, chatting with Carl and his girlfriend June.

Carl and June are Filipino. Carl lives here, in Mindanao, working in Marketing for Unilever and June lives for now in Dubai working as a photographer for an Indian fashion designer. They are a lovely couple, so happy and so glad to be enjoying life and their time together. Carl is also a chef, having studied at a culinary institute and speaks French cooking terms. He was quizzing Laurent on the correct pronunciation of boullaibase, croissant and other French foods. He is a photographer too and became our small band’s de facto photo shoot organizer.

We ventured to lunch at another part of the island, disembarking down the very narrow gang plank into the ocean with a bamboo pole propped for us to hold onto. Little kids lined up around the boat clapping and doing backflips, waiting for a coin to be thrown into the water so they could show their diving prowess and make some money. I sat with Carl, Jane and the Frenchies. Carl explained we were having roasted baby tuna, chicken and pork skewers, stir fried veggies, etc.

Our next stop was Puka Beach. Remote, not developed, pristine and gorgeous. We swam and let the gentle waves lap us around for almost an hour. Our view was the crystal blue ocean and the lush green vegetation, with white sand and a cliff.

Next we stopped to snorkel some more, this time with many little colored fish and vibrant living coral. And then back to Station 3, White Beach, where we said goodbye with a plan to meet up later at Station 1 at Guilly’s Island bar and disco.

I am having a Mango Margarita on the beach for happy hour and sunset and am looking forward to a nibble at the hotel, then out and tomorrow morning a massage at Mandala Spa on the mountain in the jungle.

Boracay – Day 2 – Relaxing and Exploring

Relaxed. Swam in a perfectly warm clear ocean. Napped on the beach. Said no to many women saying “M’am, foot massage, pedicure” on the beach.

Went exploring to D-Mall and Station 2 and 3. D-Mall is just that, a beachside mall with restaurants and shops. I bought my second disposable camera so photos are to follow when I return to Sydney.

At a Filipino buffet, met some young French business students attending HCE doing a study abroad semester in Hong Kong, Laurent and Mattheau. The buffet was 290 pesos, all you can eat, on the beach, of freshly barbequed mussels, oysters, bangus, chicken skewers, rice, curry chicken, beef, fried shrimp. We met up later to have a drink at my hotel and then the infamous Cocomanga’s.

Boracay Sunset

Sunsets at 5:30 and is spectacular. Gentle waves lapping on the White Beach. Silhouetted sailboats coast in the foreground on shimmering dark cobalt blue ripples.

Amber, soft magenta gives rise to pale yellow to be crowned by grey periwinkle blue with pillows and tufts of grey stretched across like a pulled cotton bud. In the far distance, a storm darkens a section, reaching the gray tuft all the way to the water.

Lighting flashes, exposing the islands beyond. Relaxing music emanates from the hotel behind me and a candle lights my little table on the soft sand. Heaven might be like this.

Alex

Alex is my friend Kacy’s driver and he was my tourguide in Cebu. He took me all over the place and imparted much of the information in this blog. He has a wife, 3 daughters and is a devout Catholic who speaks in broken English. He has worked for Kacy for 5 years now and calls her M’am Kacy. He is a lovely person who is simply one of the kindest, most loyal and hard workers I have met in a very long time.

Carbon Markets

These are not for tourists. Squatter residences in the city mark the entry to the wooden and cardboard stalls lining the dirt, muddy roads where little naked children splash in puddles.

No brand knock offs. No other foreigners except me. I was a sight to be seen. But Alex, my friend’s driver, was by my side and gallantly made sure I was safe. Alex explained that the farmers come to the market by jeepnee, the official bus system.

Jeepnees are small jeeps with benches in the back and a roof so short I bumped my head every time I entered. An honor system prevails – when you want to stop, you bang on the roof and pass your money up the bench. A typical jeepnee ride costs 8 pesos. There is no published route system and shorter hauls are done by trike, a motorcycle with a side car.


Farmers come down with all their harvest and stay, sleep at the markets on the street until it is sold. Tomatoes, onions, root vegetables and misshapen bulbous potatoes. Dried fish. Coconut plant and bamboo plants. Lumpia. Bags and bags of rice. Bootleg DVDs upstairs. We did not go to the meat section on Kacy’s advice.



One of Alex’s friends has a car. He goes to the market at 5 am, the busiest time. He waits to be hired by people buying for restaurants. A good haul can be worth 400 pesos for him. Which is almost double the average daily wage, 260 pesos.

Cebu is a third world country and poverty is abundant. Many people in Cebu and Mactan are squatters – they have built shacks and some cement houses on government land. The threat is always there that the government will move them, but the government is corrupt and has not built alternative housing. So, they stay squatting with a busy community where the beauty shop in a squatter residence is open and packed at 10 at night.

The Spanish were here

The main tourist sites in Cebu revolve around a common theme – The Spanish coming and the Spanish going. [This is not Wikipedia nor Encyclopedia Britanica, so historical facts contained herein very well might be wrong. But this is what I picked up along the way.]

Magellan’s cross marks the spot where he claimed Cebu and the Philippines for Spain. A beautiful wooden huge cross is protected by a small pagoda with a fresco ceiling, think Sistine Chapel, smaller, with native Filipinos and Spanish looking priests, rendered by artists of less talent than Michelangelo. Legend tells that the cross grows every year, so that the ceiling must be moved higher and higher.

Next to the cross, stage right, enter the Church where the patron saint of Cebu, el Santo Nino, is enshrined. Magellan gave the Santo Nino to the then Chief, who become King Charles. The church itself is small but beautifully adorned with hand carved pews and doors of native dark wood. The stone of the building is a white, graying stone that might be blocks of old coral. The shrine of the Santo Nino is visible from the Church, but patrons queue up on the outside to give their blessings and offer prayers. Just outside the church for larger masses, a marble plaza stretches, with a dias ending its expansion.


The Spanish protected its Cebuano holdings from Fort San Pedro, featuring views of the Church, the Cross and the ocean. The Regional Museum occupies a portion of the Fort now.

Filipinos said goodbye to the Spanish on Mactan Island, at the site of the Battle of Mactan. Chief Lapu Lapu (actually from Borneo) was invited by the Chief of Cebu to his ally and kick out the Spanish. And that he did. In an epic battle that is re-enacted every year using professional film stars from Manila, Chief Lapu Lapu kick Spanish butt all over the swampy mangroves. Lapu Lapu is so revered, he even has the best fish in the Philippines named after him. It is quite tasty.