Return to Lugbung

On my return to Romblon the following afternoon, I arranged passage over to Lugbung with Sinando once again. I did, however, negotiate a better price with the old scallywag this time, having discovered from Rodel that the twice-daily passenger boat only cost 7pesos. We arrived after dark and soaking wet from heading directly into the waves…well I say we…it was mostly me that was wet…Sinando getting revenge for the low fare? Who knows? Tony, Violet and Joe welcomed me with open arms and I really felt like I’d done the right thing coming back. After a delicious meal, which was actually in celebration of Tony and Violet’s 24th wedding anniversary, we fell to talking again about the history of Romblon and the Philippines. They gave me a clearer insight into there reasons for living in such a remote part of the world – a combination of the appeal of the natural beauty and a fierce dislike of the nanny state and endless regulation of the western world – sentiments with which I can identify. I was to spend the following three nights in their convivial company and sleeping in my own personal beach house. This simple lifestyle: candle-light and chess, fresh fruit and soft drinks appeals so much more than the comparatively bright lights of Boracay. I made up my mind that future visits to the Philippines would be consistent with this.
Between the twilight hours spent in my idyllic, evening hideaway, Tony encouraged me to get about and see the locality. He steadfastly refused to let me help with his forest and shoreline projects – maybe to maintain a consistent working environment for his workers…perhaps just ensuring that his guest was thoroughly enjoying himself.
I spent another day taking a motorbike around Romblon, finding the peaceful resort of San Pedro for a spot of lunch. Fresh lapu-lapu with rice, whilst watching golden orioles darting around the bougainvillea…very tranquil.
Friday was diving day. I spent the day with Pedro on his reef, where visibility was far better than anything in Boracay. We saw ribbon eels, sea cucumbers and lion fish to name the more exotic species…I was surprised to see Pedro killing and chopping up a sea-urchin with his dive-knife – but, as he explained to me afterwards, removing the urchins from the reef allows the coral to grow…and the maelstrom of fish that descended to feed was certainly worth seeing! Pedro’s gorgeous wife, Mai, cooked us a very pleasant lunch of sweet n sour fish and we sat, peacefully enjoying the southern aspect onto a turquoise sea, burnished by the midday sun. I certainly envied them their life in a secluded wooden beach hut – with beach and reef for a front garden.
On the way back from Pedro’s, I came upon Rodel and the fishermen having a bit of a party. One of the guys, Phil, was celebrating his 35th birthday (note the full head of hair – git!), so the lads were letting off some steam with a few crates of beer, several bottles of brandy and a 5-stringed, tuneless guitar. After playing catch-up and swiftly necking a couple of beers, I soon got into the swing of things. Guys all over the world have the same need for a little, occasional carousing. I felt privileged to be accepted as a canao (white man) amongst the menfolk of the village. The party eventually broke up when some of the guys had to go fishing (!) and Phil’s wife came and berated him for getting too hammered, before dragging him off by his ear to sober up. I stumbled back, in the gathering gloom, for my last meal and last night’s rest with Tony and Violet.