A Lesson in Transportation

Our last day in Manila definitely taught us a lesson in transportation. We decided to travel from Manila to Mindoro, the seventh largest island in the Philippines. From the hotel we caught a cab to the bus station. The drive there was filled with what to us seemed like complete chaos. There were Jeepneys every where. Jeepneys are the most popular form of transportation here in the Philippines. The original ones were left over US military jeeps from World War II.

The rules to driving here are simple: There are no rules. It baffles me why they even have lines on the roads because nobody drives between them. More often then not, they drive on top of the line so that it is easier to weave in and out of traffic. If you can get your nose in front of the next car, then you have the right to go. A little beep to let the other car know you're there, and away you go. It doesn't phase the people walking along the street either. People don't flinch as Jeepneys honk and drive centimeters away from them. It's all a part of the chaotic life of Manila. And the chaos didn't stop there.

We got out of the cab at the bus station and were swarmed by people "where are you going, mamn, sir?" As soon as we told them we were going to the ferry station, we were swooped up towards a bus crammed between many other buses. The driver took our backpacks and put them in the compartment under the bus. I quickly grabbed my hoodie thinking I might be cold on the bus. I don't know what I was thinking. The bus was jammed packed. Luckily there was air conditioning. And real air conditioning too - not just fans on the ceiling. There were three people to one bench so I crammed between Carlos and some Filipino guy who ended up practically sleeping on my shoulder for parts of the 3 hour bus ride.

Just before we left the station about 12 people appeared on the bus, walking up and down the already crowded aisle. They were selling everything from water, to pork grinds, to peanuts. One guy even had about ten boxes of pies stacked in his left hand trying to sell off pieces.

Finally the bus started driving and thankfully we got to watch a movie on Carlos' itouch which helped distract me from all the bumps and jiggles of the bus, and more importantly from the sweaty arm of the guy sitting next to me.

We arrived at the ferry station where we were greeted with our now close companion called Chaos. "where you go, mamn, sir?" "White Beach," we replied and are immediately swept away by strangers who direct us to one counter to buy a ticket. "Last boat - hurry hurry." Now it seems as if we are in a panic to get onto the last boat to White Beach, Mindoro. The stranger then ushered us to another counter where we had to pay 40 more pesos just to leave the dock, we got swept away again past the gate just in time to hear our helpful stranger say "tip mamn?" - but it's too late, we had broken into a brisk walk towards the people who are frantically waving us towards the boat. It is long and narrow, painted red and white, with long pieces of bamboo that reach off the side of the boat, stabilizing us in the water. We walked along a small plank from the dock to the boat, trying to stay balanced with a backpack on both our backs and our fronts. All I can think about is if I fall, my camera equipment and computer are toast. We made it to the boat and there is just enough room for us to sit at the front. We put our bags down and took a seat.

Finally there is calm - and then the boat started. It began nice and calm, but as soon as we got further into the water, it got choppy and the boat began to bounce up and down over the waves. I looked around the boat. On the ceiling was painted "In God We Trust." Across from me, a younger Filipino guy jokes with his friends and makes the sign of the cross, praying we make it! Carlos, who was sitting closer to the front gets splashed with water, while I just keep my eyes focused on the horizon, a trick I learned in Australia to keep yourself from feeling sick. At the front the guy who is directing the boat is standing on the edge, hands in his pockets, no railing to hold him in. It amazes me how people do things with such ease around here.

Carlos pulls out our Lonely Planet book. "Uh oh" he said with a major I'm-in-trouble kind of smirk on his face. I looked over and highlighted in bright yellow marker it says "White Beach is to be avoided." Great, I thought... just great. But a few minutes later we are pulling up to the island just as the sun is setting behind these island mountains, and all I can see are hundreds of beautifully silhouetted palm trees. Forget what Lonely says... this is Paradise!

Once of the boat we are surrounded by people again... this time it's tuk tuk drivers. They asked us if we want to go to White Beach or Sabang Beach. We still had a choice! We decided to go with Lonely Planet's recommendation after all and head to Sabang - the livelier part of the island. Carlos and I crammed into a tiny tuk tuk. We have to duck because the roof is so short, and off we went! We drove about 15 minutes up and down the winding island roads, with a honk from the occasional motor bike or jeepney that passes us. Finally we saw a little town on the beach. The tuk tuk came to a stop at a sign that said no more traffic. We got out and were greeted by even more people wanting to know where we were going. We had a place in mind so we tried to ignore everyone and keep walking, but a lady followed us and ended up showing us numerous guest houses because the place we chose was full. Finally we settled on a place that was a bit above our budget, but it was nice we were tired. We settled in for a bit and decided to go for dinner.



The restaurant we chose was on the beach - literally. The floor was actually the beach sand, and we ordered two San Miguel beer (only 40 pesos each - just over a dollar Canadian), and a curry to share. We couldn't figure out why there were napkins stuck at the top of our bottles (later we find out it's to clean it because the bottles are reused).

Before our meal arrived a little white kitten walked past our table. I made the mistake of chirping at it and it came over to my side. Every time I looked down to see if it was still there, it looked at me with sad eyes and opened it's mouth to meow, but was so weak no sound came out. I moved forward on my chair because I was afraid Kitty was going to jump on my lap (They can sense soft hearts - I swear). My plan backfired a second later when Kitty jumped on my chair behind me. I froze. I had never been so scared of a little kitten before. What if it scratches me? or bites me? I'll get rabies and die... (all these thoughts put into my head by my mom, thank you very much) but then Kitty jumped on the ledge beside the table and when the server came over she scared Kitty into the garden. Safe again. But as we ate our delicious Thai Prawn and peanut curry, even from the garden I could see Kitty open her mouth as if to say "Please?"