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Journal 44: Philippines Days Three and Four

After Pinatubo, I headed farther north into the western peninsula of Luzon.  Hundred Islands National Park was next on the agenda.

As I rolled into Alaminos, on the long bus, I hadn’t realized how much time had gone  by.  But that last leg took me almost six hours.  I just spent most of the time snapping photos at passers by and trying to scribble a few words into my journal as the bus bounced roadward.

Getting into Alaminos doesn’t mean you’ve made it to the park, however.  Once there, you still have to pay a tricycle to drive you the rest of the 7km distance to the coast.  The price isn’t that bad (only about $2), because the driver probably will have a brother or cousin who owns a hotel, restaurant or boat.  Good people to know.

Hundred Islands National Park:

Probably the thing I liked the most about the Hundred Islands National park was area surrounding it.  Staying in Alaminos and Lucap was sort of what I was hoping to see since I got to the Philippines.  The slower pace of life, the small town feel and the quiet streets that, once you wake up, you’re happy to have had the night before.

The place I stayed at was a reasonably large place that had recently been built by a small family.  I couldn’t tell if the husband was a perpetual drunk, because it was Christmas Eve when I arrived.  To be fair, both towns were equally stocked with drunkards, I suppose.  So perhaps I was being a bit harsh on the old man.  But it was his reliability as a boat captain what I was more unsure of.  Because the next day I’d signed up to have him drive me out into the park.

I approached to set up a time to leave to the park the next day and it felt like he’d thrown up an entire bottle of malt liqueur within five minutes of our meeting.  But as I had begun to find out, there were many people who could captain the rickety little vessels passing as the latest influence for the aquatic tourist conveyor belt out to the islands.  So if he fell through, I was pretty sure I’d be okay.

And that turned out to be the case as I wound up snatching up a younger, more sober looking driver at the entry to the pier.

Being as it was the morning time and I had arrived to the crumbling docks in time for the sunrise, I thought I’d snap a few photos.  They became some of the best shots I’d made yet on this trip.  So I was happy that I went out early.

Being the first national park that resided in the ocean that I have ever seen, I thought that this was one was particularly special.  The islands themselves were interesting.  But they weren’t mindblowing – as played out in the advertising all along the coast.

Shaped like the average blooming mushroom, these islands display a headdress of green foliage under a short canopy of failing coastline.  They are also very close to one another in proximity.  So there are lots of shallow pools, swimming areas, neat beaches and what is left of the coral that was swept nearly away from the latest wave of seasonal typhoons and covered by annual sediment brought in by lahar flows.

I don’t want to give the impression that I wasn’t impressed and didn’t enjoy the trip.  But if they were a little less dramaticized before you got there, they  might seek less awe and find more of it in the people that gaze upon these eroding structures.  Nevertheless, among the two packages (a half day [3 hours] and a full day [can include an novernight stay on Governor’s Island]), I opted for the short tour.

But I was no less excited about the day in the islands.  The driver took us out to little coves and swimmable spots.  There was this great little island that had all sorts of little pagoda-looking huts that appeared to have lived through many a noisy party echoing through the inlet.  And probably my favorite part of the trip was… well, the trip.  I guess I mean that literally.

When we arrived at the last island, there were lots of people swimming in the crystal clear waters at the south-facing beach.  And I was happily prancing along watching them when I stubbed my toe on this enormous shell jutting up through the sand.  I definitely broke my toe and I was down for a ten-count.  But once I was back up and snapping away, I found this great little oyster bed that had been “salvaged” by the last heavy weather that had come through and torn up the coral bottoms.  

I crept out into the sectioned off nursery and snapped a few photos of these giant oysters.  They must have been two feet across.  They were bright blue and green and seemed to change color under the shifting light of the cloud-strewn sky.  It was a great additive to the trip.  But after that, I headed back for the trenches.

Today, it was off for Banahue and Bontoc on my way to seek out the home of the native headhunters of Ifugao.  That trip would prove to be exciting and full of great views.  I would spend the first half on top of one vehicle and the other half hanging out the rear door of another.  But you’ll have to wait for the next journal to see photos and read about that.

And speaking of photos, be sure to stop by cyleodonnell.com for the photos from the whole Philippines trip.

Below is a part two of the six-part documentary film, Travel Geek: Documentary Philippines (be sure to subscribe to my channel). It covers much more than this journal. But since I’ve already made the video, I might as well put part one of the six-part series in here to add some reference:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j_NFWWaw-u4]

[Wanna Help?  One way you can help is to sign up for blog updates.  You can also share this video (which can be found on my channel), my photography website and this blog.  Email at least ten of your email contacts who might enjoy it.  Help spread the word so others can enjoy my travels!  If you have any questions, just email me at: cyle@cyleodonnell.com. You can also follow me on facebook, sign up to receive my tweets on Twitter, and see my latest pins on Pinterest!]

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Journal 43: Philippines Days Two and Three

Jeepneys:


Be sure to check out the Philippines photos at cyleodonnell.com

There’s an interesting and flavorful addition to the Philippines that is home to no other location on earth.  What is this delectable, endemic treasure: the Jeepney.

Short is its history on this green earth, but fascinating is its time here.  The Jeepney came about through an unexpected gap in the Philippines chilling and exciting past.

For only a short period of years, about (#) years or so, the United States occupied this small, island-speckled nation.  But in those short years they peppered the countryside with the vehicle most appropriate for bouncing around its rugged terrain, the Jeep.  So godlike is this amazing entity bestowed upon the Filipino people that they created many different Jeep-esque country crawlers in its honor.

Useful in hauling everything from livestock to construction materials up the slow-to-progress hinterland road system, these smoke-belching beasts are seen all over the country – especially in Luzon and the larger islands.  The classic front end, the heavy steal construction and, of course, the diehard suspension system are all akin to their master.  But Filipinos have added girth, length, an upper rack system that could rival the strength of boardwalk pilings.  And that’s all in an effort to tote as much as possible (and therefore make as much money as possible) in one trip.  But little else has changed about from the Jeep’s original design – including its not-so-environmentally-friendly miles-per-gallon ratio.

I was scammed and always charged the local rate on these mobile social clubs.  And it was never a boring ride.  People were crammed everywhere; in the nooks aboard the body, on the rack above, in the front seats and even clinging for dear life off the back.

I could have taken the big bus liners to the areas I wanted to go – mostly.  The air condition going through the city would definitely have been nicer.  But I would rather see the Philippines the way it’s seen from the inside – not the outside or looking down.

Mount Pinatubo:

Once near Angeles, I could tell that getting the rest of the way would have to be done a little more discerningly.  Angeles is a dirty, crowded town where little English is spoken.  People are willing enough to help you get to where you need to be.  But the drivers seem more to be out for the buck.

At the local depot, I was approached by lots of “tricycle” drivers asking to take me to my destination.  But I have learned that generally, you don’t want to just jump into the first offered ride when you’re fresh off the boat, so to speak.  So I haggled a little bit and met a few guys that were willing to discuss the idea.

The first price was offered.  I turned it down, of course.  Then I walked a little further and they sort of teamed up against me, saying that this was the regular price and that the distance was far away.

I knew that we were only about seven kilometers from the dropping point for what I had researched was the start of the hike for the mountain.  So I eventually just moved on.  They were not pleased that I had not fallen for their game.

Lesson from memory: be willing to walk away… a long way (in order to A, find out of the driver is serious and B, ensure that you’ve done as much as possible to help guarantee that you’re not the next white dupe to fall out of a bus and right into a scam).

Down the road a little bit, I hopped into the least formidable looking jeepney headed in my general direction and cut my lost time.  On the trip I found just what I needed.  A relative of the person in charge of the next leg of my trip.

Cindy, the cousin of Wendell, had told us that we were approaching O’Donnell Village and that we should stay at her relative’s place overnight and then, in the morning, take his jeep tour into the Pinatubo region for a quick day hike.

And just like that, I had a place to stay, a hookup into the trek up the mountain and the closest thing to a personal guarantee that I had secured the best price possible – the local price.

And what a hookup I had: Wendell turned out to be the president of the Four-Wheel Club in the entire area.  And as a bonus, it was his birthday.  So he was celebrating with a huge banquet of food, complete with servers and free beer.  So, besides the all night bash that included seemingly endless karaoke until all hours of the morning, it was definitely a good night to stay at Wendell’s place.

The next morning I was overcharged for my room and headed toward the mountain.  It was the first time I had been swindled, so I didn’t take it to heart.  And since I’d been given plenty of food and beer the night before, I didn’t really waste much time debating it.  But Wendell gave me a price the previous evening, 500 Pesos, which had somehow turned into a per-head price by morning.  But nevermind that, it was off to see one of the world’s most famous mounds of dirt.

Once at the gate and registered, it was 16 kilometers to the base camp.  From there I’d end up hiking another 12 klicks to the summit.  Or should I say what used to be the summit.

In 1991, Mount Pinatubo breathed its most recent breath (well, the lesser of the famous ones was actually in 1993), casting a billowing haze of smoke, ash and flying debris 40 kilometers into the air and combining its efforts with a tragically coincidental typhoon that had pummeled the west coast that same day, adding insult to injury.  The resulting lahar flowed down the mountain and through the surrounding villages, killing scores of people in its path.

Once I reached the crater left behind by this destruction, I instantly felt the helplessness that must have been a part of the psyche of the victims of this massive sleeping goliath.

Below is a part one of the six-part documentary film, Travel Geek: Documentary Philippines (be sure to subscribe to my channel). It covers much more than this journal. But since I’ve already made the video, I might as well put part one of the six-part series in here to add some reference:
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KM7BnYvzRa8]
[Wanna Help?  One way you can help is to sign up for blog updates.  You can also share this video (which can be found on my channel), my photography website and this blog.  Email at least ten of your email contacts who might enjoy it.  Help spread the word so others can enjoy my travels!  If you have any questions, just email me at: cyle@cyleodonnell.com. You can also follow me on facebook, sign up to receive my tweets on Twitter, and see my latest pins on Pinterest!]

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Journal 42: Philippines Day One

First Day in the Philippines:

I’ve chiseled out about two weeks to spend in the Philippines over the New Year holiday, 2011.  During this time, I am interested in seeing two world heritage sites, climbing some mountains, seeing some waterfalls and navigating underground rivers.

This might be an auspicious venture and an unreasonable expectation for Southeast Asia’s black sheep.  But I have been pleasantly surprised at my goal’s relinquished rewards in the past.  So I continue to set my standards high.

Day one sees me landing in Manila.  I landed at about 9:30, well after dark.  And Manila, like many Latin-descended capital cities, it’s not really safe to fumbling the streets late at night.  So I jumped right into a cab and headed for the Stonehouse Hotel, far north of the city.

Strategically, I planned on staying near this location because I wanted to simply leave Manila as soon as possible the next morning.  I had bigger plans in mind.  In fact, my plans stood 1486 meters high as I planned to crest the lower reaches of its summit within the next two days.

The mountain has an amazing recent history.  But first, for reference, I will start on the other side of the world:  In 1980, Mount St. Helens, which sits along the Cascade Range in Washington State, erupted like a nuclear bomb and blew fully grown trees to the ground for hundreds of yards in all directions.  It was so powerful that it recorded a Volcanic Explosivity Index of 5, the most significant in the contiguous 48 states.  It hurled bombs and ash into the air that tormented surrounding states and Canada for months after.


Be sure to check out the Philippines photos at cyleodonnell.com

But when Mt. Pinatubo went of in 1991, it recorded a VEI of 6.  It also coincided with a massive tropical storm that happened to have been battering the coast at the time.  When they met, the water from the heavens created a surge of mud that buried a handful of villages in the mudflow’s wake.  A dozen people died and cleanup and recover took months.  It erupted again two years later.

I didn’t know if I was going to take the longer, more strenuous two-day hike with an overnight, sweating to the temperature-cued crickets choir or if I was going to try and shoot straight through in one day.  But I knew that I was headed for the world’s most recent VEI-6 explosion and currently active volcano, Mount Pinatubo.

But, as is the case in many other times of seeking out the location of desire, the adventure, I was planning, would be in the voyage.

Below is a video of the first part of the trip (be sure to subscribe to my channel). It covers much more than this journal. But since I’ve already made the video, I might as well put part one of the six-part series in here to add some reference:
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KM7BnYvzRa8]

[Wanna Help?  One way you can help is to please share this video (which can be found on my channel), my photography website and this blog.  Email at least ten of your email contacts who might enjoy it.  Help spread the word so others can enjoy my travels!  If you have any questions, just email me at: cyle@cyleodonnell.com. You can also follow me on facebook, sign up to receive my tweets on Twitter, and see my latest pins on Pinterest!]

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Introducing the Author Spotlight:

Here on my blog, I have started to get some feedback as to the recommendations for what I do in those “down times” of travel.  So when I find myself on a 13-hour plane ride, and nothing out the window creates enough of a canvas on which to paint my wandering thoughts, I generally turn to books (or audio books on the trusty iPod).  So, in the effort of promoting great reads, I will be introducing a new section to the blog: Weekly Author Spotlights.  I will be reading, discussing and posting videos about the books I have read throughout my travels.
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XP7bOMTNFsI]

Okay, so by this point you’ve probably realized that I have made good on my promise to use more video in my blog.  But I don’t want to overdo it.  So in an effort to ease the video onslaught of late, I have been actively editing lots of text blogs and photos to bring back in.  But there’s lots more going on than just that.  Read below:

Other important updates:  After months of filming for the upcoming film, Travel Geek: Documentary Taiwan, I have finally been able to set aside some time to get the much needed edits done to the the Philippines gallery of photos.  So it might be the end of the week before I am able to get this album published, but it should be up at least by the end of the week.

And speaking of the Philippines; I have edited the first of my journals from this latest trip and will be following this post with the first of what will likely turn out to be about ten pages of amazing reflection from Southeast Asia’s black sheep.  So thanks for sticking with me throughout all the years of posting, and up next is my latest journals from the Philippines.  I know it’s been a while since I’ve posted any actual travel journals.  But I have been working on releasing (not one, but) TWO books which should be out soon.  I have been editing heaps of video.  And I have also been compounding more filming on top of that.  So I have been a busy boy.

The gallery of photography from the Philippines will be hosted at cyleodonnell.com.  You can reach the page directly by clicking HERE.  And new Travel Geek short films are coming out all the time.  Just subscribe to my Youtube Channel to receive all the new shorts that I post.

Also, I am getting new subscribers all the time, so I know that some of you have been talking about the page.  THANK YOU!  I really appreciate the support.  But if you could do me one more favor, I’d really appreciate it.  Please email one or more of my email updates to at least ten friends in your email contacts list and ask them to subscribe.  Anyone that you think would be interested in reading about the updates that I post here, they should sign up for a subscription too.  It’s free, and I love getting feedback on what else I should be putting up here on the blog.

[Wanna Help?  One way you can help is to please share this video (which can be found on my channel), my photography website and this blog.  Email at least ten of your email contacts who might enjoy it.  Help spread the word so others can enjoy my travels!  If you have any questions, just email me at: cyle@cyleodonnell.com. You can also follow me on facebook, sign up to receive my tweets on Twitter, and see my latest pins on Pinterest!]

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Southeast Asia Journal 18: April 16, 2010

Journal April 16, 2010

I haven’t written any of my thoughts down in a few days.  I have only been recording my thoughts into a voice recorder and am trying out a new technique.  I am hoping that it will save me some of the time that I have been spending on these journals lately.  It’s quite cumbersome to not only journal everyday.  But to add configuring a website, editing photos, proofreading, and all the rest – it’s a lot to do.

As promised, I have studied the barrage of honking and I think I have come up with a small semblance of the communication that the horns ring out.  Firstly, there is a “shave-and-a-haircut” jingle that drivers use as they are approaching an intersection so as to let others know that they are coming.  The ones who are approaching the intersection and are not intending to stop at all simply lay into the horn full blast from about 10 meters before the crossroad to about five meters after.  There are several short blasts for bikers that are approaching pedestrians who are walking slightly in the road.  The best I can figure, this evolved out of an idea that the more beeps on hears from behind, the more likely they will be able to position the moving object by it’s blasts — sort of a sonar that you can readily create imagery for in your head.  There are many “SOS” type blasts (more like toots, really) that are in short and long succession which can generally be tied to drivers delivering packages and who are more likely to be swerving in and out of shops looking for their package’s destination.  And finally, I have noticed that larger vehicles such as buses and cars really just love to massage their horns whenever possible.  There could literally be no one around and they will just honk to ensure that it’s still working.  I suppose there’s nothing wrong with adding to the noise pollution even when on deserted streets just so that the people sleeping in the apartments above don’t get too used to silence for too long.

At any rate, I am in Hanoi at the moment.  I have mostly been spending my time traveling a short distance on buses and then running around into the communities by day.  I did get to see the war museums and memorials.  It was really staggering to find out what we Americans did to these people.  But I wasn’t there, so I have no context as to why we might have been so terribly violent.  I am sure it was a different time and we understood much less about the way things work in different parts of the world.  I, myself, am living through a tumultuous time that my children (if I ever have any) and their generation may well have a hard time understanding just how blind we were back at the turn of the century when America started off the next hundred years with a horrible president and an even worse war – a war without an understandable cause or a foreseeable end.  But these are just a few of the emotions that overcome me when I see things that I am seeing here in remembrance of the way we were.  But, then again, that’s what I came here to see.  So I suppose I am getting what I asked for.

The main difference between Hanoi and Saigon, as far as I can tell, is that the percentage of people selling all manner of things — including themselves — is buffered a little bit by an overall effort of respect.  “No” actually means no here, where in Ho Chi Minh “no” meant maybe, or, perhaps, I might be swayed.

Moving around on buses makes a lot of sense for a country that is thin and long.  Perhaps if Chile ever becomes anything more than a desert with mountains, they might employ the same tactic at attracting tourists to that region of the world.

Hanoi is my favorite place in Vietnam so far.  You are still hassled a little bit on the streets to buy things from people, but at least you’re not chased down the road by prostitutes trying to haggle you down on the price of some “yum-yum.”

The streets are narrow and dirty.  The scents range from a whacking of the fecund to a wafting of the delectable.  And the people are either buzzing through or sitting, selling and smoking.  Even though the personal bubble gets smaller and smaller the farther north you go in Vietnam, there always seems to be just enough room for you to squeeze by without completely affronting the other person.  They are most genius when it comes to space management.  It seems that when you have lived in a culture of narrow walls and high population, you start to see things in terms of how much stuff you can put in them.

I also like the idea that there is really no class system here.  There are rich people, yes.  But everyone else pretty much does the same thing and therefore falls under the same umbrella of monetary dispersal.  They are all vendors or managers or students or drivers or laborers or a small variety of other things.  This sort of makes for a generally open population of person-to-person communication.  People are not afraid of what others will think here, as they do in other places like Thailand, because everyone lives in the same place, with the same lifestyle, eating the same food and buying all their necessities from the same places.

Really, I can only think of three classes: the uber-rich, the uber-poor and everyone else.  Those that can afford to give to beggars, normally do.  Those who are not able to do so make that known in a way that is comfortable per the community — they shout at the person and wave their hands wildly for invading their time and space.  And since big hand gestures and over-exaggerated expression of emotion is something that has been looked down upon in most Asian cultures, it is clear when someone is upset here.

I have appreciated the economic situation personally because things are much more reasonably priced here.  There is still a lot of underhanded swindling that goes on with westerners — mostly because they believe that we simply don’t know any better than to pay their inflated prices.  But it is still a different kind of swindling that goes on in Cambodia.  I spent a lot of money seeing the sights in Cambodia.  And so far I have spent more money in travel with one big, added benefit: I can book overnight buses and sleep on the way to my destination.  This not only saves me money in hotel stays, it also averages in to be what the transport alone would cost me in just getting around.  Therefore, food is my only contingency.

But to cover the issue of swindling and underhanded business here; There seems to just be this (at least publicly) unspoken agreement that exists between merchants, hotels and the shady tourist companies that tote around their guests and clients.  It’s really a bad situation.  It’s also very short-sighted, as one fellow traveler pointed out to me.  They really just dig in for the big scam not minding that they are found out about halfway through the ordeal — they really don’t consider the idea that these travelers are part of a greater circuit of travelers who attend to blogs and travel forums where these scams will be listed and bitched about, thereby likely prompting less tourism in the long run.  But I hate to jest in this way, it is quite a shame that there is such a culture of backstabbing and money-grubbing of westerners.  I would imagine that it gets a little old for the local shop, restaurant and hotel owners who are being screamed at by legitimately pissed off tourists after having realized that their overpriced and over-promised “luxury” or “VIP” ticket to whatever they expected to enjoy, turned out rather to be a hustle of shark-like intensity from their first step on the bus.

But on to the food: Now that’s the good part about being in Vietnam.  Not only are there many different national favorites and flavors to choose from, but they are almost always very bold and well-cooked.  Unlike Cambodia, Vietnamese food is a little less adventurous.  Because of their longevity as an impoverished nation, they have resorted to inputting a lot of odd additions to their meals.   From insects to amphibious life, the Cambodian menu is something to be careful and picky about.  Vietnam’s sharp contrast in digestible delicacies include variations of noodle soups, chicken and pork dishes and a plethora of seafood selections.

From here, I hope to be traveling to Sapa tonight via overnight train into the mountains. This will be my most coveted photo-opportunity in Vietnam.  I hope to get into the hill tribe villages and come away with a glimpse into the lives of the people of this area.  They have an amazing history.

There are several tribes.  Many of them are small, but some of them span all the way into the provinces in Myanmar, Laos and even south into the northern parts of Thailand.  The Dzao are one of these tribes with numbers estimated around 480,000 people.  Most of these cultures are women-centered and have a very different viewpoint on how life should happen.  For instance, the women are expected to propose to the men; the women are the ones who inherit the wealth when the family or husband passes; and the men normally take on the woman’s family name after moving into the woman’s house following marriage.

The Ede tribe is a polytheistic, communal society who live on long boat-shaped houses set on stilts.  Entire families will live in these constructions and there is normally an area sectioned off for newly weds.

The H’Mong tribe, who I am hoping to see most of all, has several sects divided by the colors of dress that the women weave.  Almost all of the sects wear beads and 70’s-style sequins buttons.  There are black, white, red green and flower sects and all named accordingly.  The Black H’Mong wear a distinguishing cylindrical hat decorated with weavings of various colors of beads.

It will be a pleasure simply to be around these people, but hopefully I can also take away and share a perspective of their seemingly undying lifestyle.

The train station at Sapa is about five minutes from the Chinese border.  The next stop on this famous train is Kunming in the southern mountains of China.   Kunming happens to be the place of residence of a fellow adventurer in whose work in philanthropic and historic adventures I have found a recent interest in studying and following.  Jin Fe Bao, a Chinese renaissance man, has recently finished trekking the length of the Vietnamese railroad.  His story and photos can be found here:  http://www.jinfeibao8844.com/Railroad%20Trek.htm and another of his exploits includes having trekked 80 days across the arid trade lanes of the Sahara Desert in Africa.  Information on that journey can be found here: http://jinfeibao8844.com/Africa_Adventure.htm.

From sapa, I will return to Hanoi and, barring any delays in attaining my visa for Laos, I will be headed on another overnight sleeper bus to Vientienne — the Lao capitol.  From there, I will… well, you will just have to read the next journal to find out.

I will go back into these last few and likely the following journal and update them with photos after I have had a chance to sift through of the mountain of shots I took recently and edit them down into good pieces for these articles.  But I figured I would at least publish this one tonight after having worked on it.  So enjoy and I will let you know when they are loaded up!

Till then, all my best.