Mindoro Occidental

Hello from Quezon City,

First, I would like to apologize for the very significant delay in posting to this storyboard. We were on the island of Mindoro for a week, where the internet connection is heavily reliant on clear skies (a problem in the evenings), and then the following week on a very remote organic farm with no electricity at all. Anyhow, lets put some meat on those bones.

Today must put us at two weeks and 6 days into the journey, which i can only assume because our visas expire tomorrow! thus, we have returned to manila to add another 5 weeks of legality to our respective passports. Already we have seen the two polar extremes of lifestyle here, and the contrast is extraordinarily jarring.

We spent a week in and around Puerto Galera, a small town said to be built around the diving community, but also seemingly well supported by less respectable industries. We spent a few days touring around the northwest coast of Mindoro by motorcycle, getting as far south as Calipan City. The first destination to the south of Puerto was Tamaraw Falls, where we went for a swim to wash off the tremendous amount of muck that had built up on our bodies over three kilometers of ankle deep mud. The next village was tiny and picturesque, Villaflor, and would be our camping spot for the night. We slept on the beach, with hammocks slung between palm trees and the motorcycles pulled up behind the house of a local fisherman. An 18 year old fisherman, Jeremy, joined us wordlessly while we were building our cooking fire, and provided invaluable help! Turns out that there are roots with toxic smoke, and more bones in a milkfish than jellybeans in the jar. A very nice guy, albeit of very few words. There is an incredible shyness about the people here, which seems largely impervious to anything except a little tipper. He didn't partake in the local ‘premium strong beer‘ Red Horse, as he was getting up at 4.30 am to fish. we were invited, but had a previous engagement and had to regretfully decline.

The next day we rode south down the provincial highway, and were greeted by countless huge smiles and 'hellos' as we rode by. We stopped to listen to a church band practicing, and had a little dance, creating a storm of nervous giggling from the girls. It is clear that tourism has barely penetrated the area, from the amazing reaction to blonde hair and fair skin even as we sped by at upwards of 100 kmph. Calipan City is a mess of a town: crowded, dirty, confusing, and prone to rain. We ate a Filipino version of chicken noodle soup for breakfast from a roadside stand, and chatted with the owner who had spent his working years on ships which plied the american coast. Satisfied, we slowly and cautiously retraced our route north on the damp steaming roads. The sun came out around noon, just as we passed the falls, and the mud seemed less deep for it. We rounded off the afternoon with authentic Italian pizza and beers on the beach at Lucas.

Upon returning to White Beach, we met up with Didier and Emma, a lovely couple who run the oldest dive shop in town. They suggested bikini beach for another night of camping, about 20 minutes up the coast by banca. The evening was gorgeous, and the milkfish and redtails were again delicious. After dinner singing was improved by bottle of Matador brandy. The bottle also ensured a deep, heavy sleep, which can be elusive when one is learning to sleep in a hammock under a tree which drops fruit sporadically. The next morning Chris, our boatman, took us to the village where he was born for breakfast. A lesson in Filipino time, we relaxed for two hours while the rice and sardines in tomato and chili sauce was being prepared. An old man came by and indicated in Taglish (a mix of Tagalog and English, and a language option on some ATMs) that he would like to play my little guitar. Happy to oblige, we were treated to a stirring version of Sinatra’s “My Way,” in his deep baritone. The song, considered almost sacred in Videoke establishments nationwide, must have been painstakingly learned phonetically.

Terribly sorry for the lack of photos- again the internet is causing grief. When they come, it will be a mighty torrent!

Best,

Gaelen