Vanny, going where countless others have gone before...
October 29, 2004
Bye-bye, Boracay
Well, eight days in Boracay is enough for anyone, methinks! A beautiful and beguiling place - it is, nevertheless, the party island of the Visayas. Don’t all gasp when I make a loose comparison between Boracay and Ibiza. Okay, so the wideboy tourists are Korean…and they’re nowhere near as odious as the British lager louts in San Antonio’s West End. Rather than a pumping house soundtrack, you’ll more likely hear someone warbling through Bon Jovi on the Videoke. The food is more barbeque than bistro and the accommodation lacks somewhat in finesse. However, life is made very easy for the numerous European tourists who come here. Bars are never more than 20ft away; restaurants and street-food vendors occupy every nook and crannie between the bars; convenience stores and internet cafes are easy to find; and cash machines actually exist here…even if you can only take out 5000 pesos in one go (then you put your card back in straight away and get some more!). Compared to the rest of the Philippines, Boracay is extortionately expensive…hence the predominance of Western and Korean tourists…and the odd smattering of well-to-do Filipinos. Regardless, a week on the Med’s white isle, could stretch to 2months in this place…and that includes the flights. I would certainly recommend Boracay to anyone who wishes to break themselves into Asia gently…particularly if English is your only language. My primary reason for leaving after a week, was that I was starting to put on (yet more!) weight…surprises, surprise! While the scuba diving was keeping me busy during the days, it was only too easy to eat, drink and be merry in the evenings…particularly with my new-found friends.
I managed to find some really sound people during my brief stay. Firstly, my diving instructor, Eric: At 42, he’s been living full-time in the Philippines for almost a year now. After our first day of diving, I stood him a couple of beers as we sat on the beach watching the first of many beautiful sunsets. Formerly an engineer with BMW, he’d gotten sick of the rat-race and tired of the cold weather and miserable people. As a diving enthusiast, he’d been coming to the Philippines for a while anyway and, with the lure of his long-term girlfriend pulling him back, it seems it was only a matter of time before he upped-sticks, sold up and left Europe. We share a lot of similar views about the state of western culture and the pleasures of Filipino life, and I immediately found myself warming to this most un-German of Germans. As the week progressed it became apparent that he was a very accomplished instructor…something that eased my introduction to the underwater world. At the end of my PADI Open Water course, I already knew I wanted to do an Advanced course. This involved 5 further dives (each in a different discipline): the wreck dive and the drift dive felt like true adventures. Winding round the rusting hull of an old fishing trawler, shadow boxing with clown fish and effortlessly gliding through schools of parrot fish, I felt like a bald, overweight Commander Bond in Thunderball. The drift dive was an exhilarating underwater rollercoaster – flying through scenery that I previously thought, only existed in Super Mario World. As the current whisks you along at speed, it’s hard not to pretend you’re Superman or veer into a flat roll like some kind of stunt pilot. Canny Eric, though, saved the best til last. After sundown on Wednesday, we headed out to the reef around Crocodile Island. Scubaed up and armed with powerful torches, we went on a night dive. The sheer exuberance of colour and the variety of underwater life was breath-taking. Eric also showed me how to cover my torch (you never turn it off, in case the bulb goes) and wave my hands, sparking an eruption of bioluminescence, produced my microscopic organisms. It was thirty minutes I will never forget – and made me think all the more about attaining a Divemaster qualification and perhaps instructing scuba for a living. I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather do it nor an instructor I’d rather do it with and I just want to say a big thank you to Eric and hope that we’ll meet again some day.
Still, my diurnal activities are only half the story…My neighbours at Saigon beach resort were Sassa and Vanny on one side and crazy Canadian Dave and his (considerably less crazy) girlfriend on the other. Dave, it turns out, was on vacation from teaching English in Korea and couldn’t recommend it enough. Most nights he had gotten himself gigs playing his guitar (very well) at Charlh’s beach bar. Consequently, I didn’t really get to see much of him, although we did go and check him out a few times. His set consisted of the likes of David Gray and the Dave Matthews Band, interspersed with a few of his own tunes. My favourite was his comic take on a very weird British phenomenon he’d encountered on a visit to Blighty…the car boot sale ;-).
Sassa and Vanny, on the other hand, were my constant nocturnal companions. On the Friday (my second evening, after crashing early on the Thursday, due to an accumulation of sleep-loss), they had seen me swinging lazily in the hammock on my porch. I contend that I was happily reading (‘Birdsong’ by Sebastian Faulkes – brilliant!), but they suspected I must be lonely and invited me out on what was a bit of a family jamboree. Sassa comes from southern Germany, Vanny from nearby Panay Island. They too were on holiday from their roles as First Mate and Cook on board inter-continental container ships. As Panay is only a short distance by boat, Vanny had invited his brothers Dave and Donny over for the evening…all well and good, but the rest of his siblings and some of their offspring had decided to come and ‘meet the girlfriend’! In all there were ten of us and I think Sassa was overwhelmed with the sheer number of relatives, while Vanny was stressing because it wasn’t turning out as planned. Despite the language barriers (although Sassa and the three brothers spoke excellent English, the sisters and the kids weren’t quite so fluent), and the volume of the music in Wave nightclub, we all managed to get along great and a good time was had by all. I spent most of the evening trying to explain why I didn’t have a girlfriend or a wife and politely trying to refuse to dance. The Filipinos don’t take no for an answer though, so between short (sweaty) periods on the dance-floor, I also had to quell attempts by the brothers to fix me up with a girl. As Dave was telling me, large families are common and considered the norm in the Philippines. Getting married young and producing plenty of offspring is the best way to ensure that you’ll be well cared for in later life. Already long-married at the age of 27, Dave was soon to fly out to England to work in one of the hotels at Heathrow Airport, having recently completed a course in Tourism and Hotel Management. He had a very idealised picture of London – something I hope isn’t compromised by the noise and the grime when he gets there. It is, of course, relatively big money for a Filipino to work in the UK, but I was careful to remind him that the cost of living there is far higher too. I really hope he is able to progress in his career and send plenty of money back home to his family. The club itself was pretty cool – for a start it was underground and dimly lit (evoking memories of the Cross). Set into the walls were several enormous fish tanks, sporting barracuda and several, more aesthetically-pleasing species. At first, the music left a lot to be desired – the usual crappy mix of HipHop and R’n’B you’d expect to find on a Friday night in Dudley. However, as time passed – and lubricated by several bottles of the excellent local brew (San Miguel Pale Pilsen – no relation) – the Japanese DJ’s eclectic tastes veered towards house and even some techno. Grooving away to some heavy beats, lights flashing, moody face on (‘cos Techno’s serious, right Dave?) – I could have been anywhere in the world…then I woke up as two seriously hammered Korean girls careened into my sandaled feet. I made my excuses and left around midnight, with the prospect of scuba diving the next day. Before I left, I managed to swap e-mail addresses with Dave, with promises of sending him to some top night-spots in London when he’s over.
For the rest of the week, I whiled away many happy twilight hours supping beer with Vanny and Sassa on their porch. Vanny also introduced me to the delights of the barbequed street food that I’d been too wary to try before. Having a local guy around is certainly advantageous, as I found when I took them to my favourite fish restaurant (as suggested by Eric)…Vanny was able to negotiate far cheaper prices. One night, the three of us ate and drank to our hearts’ content for the princely sum of 520 pesos…
I truly enjoyed all the time I spent in their company – a very close couple, always laughing and joking around, but not so cloyingly touchy-feely that I felt at all like a gooseberry. Vanny’s irrepressible sense of humour was wont to surface, unbidden, at any moment – as you can see from the photos, there’s little he won’t do for a laugh. To date, I’ve found this light-hearted, don’t-take-me-too-seriously attitude a hallmark of Filipino guys. It’s a very fun-loving and welcoming society…and I suspect one of the reasons why Filipina women are renowned for their beauty is due to their smiling so much as children. School starts at 6am to avoid the oppressive midday heat, so in the afternoons the beach is dominated by scores of happily playing kids: laughing and splashing in the surf, playing keepy-uppy with improvised shuttlecocks or playing team sports like football or volleyball. Everywhere - smiling, laughing, shouting and refreshingly uncensored by parents. An important factor in this is that, away from the major cities at least, the Philippines are a very safe and unthreatening environment – for local children and foreign visitors alike.
One thing you can’t avoid in the Philippines is Karaoke – or Videoke as they prefer to call it here. Virtually every bar worth its salt has one somewhere – tucked in a corner or pride of place in the centre of the room. This brings me on to the final ingredient in my week of merry-making – Texas Jo. Having posted on the Lonely Planet forum to get some tips about Boracay, I’d received a reply from a girl making her way down from Daguemente – in serious need of sociable beers and English conversation. Jo turned out to be a vivacious and attractive Korean/American lawyer, hailing from Houston, Texas. On her first night in Boracay, she insisted on dragging the three of us to a karaoke bar after a few beers, despite professing to having no singing talent whatsoever. As you all know, I’m not averse to a little flagrant exhibitionism, so I was happily dragged. The fact that there was a 10,000peso prize also appealed and I felt that Frank (Sinatra) was with me that night. Sassa and Vanny weren’t quite so enthusiastic, but came along for the ride.
As the night wore on, it became apparent that the competition had been going on for some weeks and that all the finalists had won previous shows to secure their places in the final. I felt particularly hard done by, as my rendition of ‘My Way’ brought the house down and the standard of some of the actual competitors was pretty poor, to say the least. Far more upsetting, was seeing Jo bottle her attempt at La Bamba, thinking she might get thrown off the stage by a knowledgeable crowd. What a wuss! First night on the sauce and first English conversation in 3 weeks and she couldn’t even bring herself to sing one little song. Of course, I’d never say this to her face…not the biggest girl in the world, she still has various martial arts to her name and any girl who’s travelled around South America and China alone has my full respect!
Jo was taking an extended career break (she’d been on the road 17months already and wasn’t planning on going home until April) because ‘you don’t get vacation in the States’. At (now) 30, she saw this as her last opportunity to really travel before knuckling down to a working life. I guess in some respects I was slightly disappointed that I’d yet to find someone who was travelling for similar reasons to mine…but on reflection, it’s not people’s reasons for travelling that are important so much as the fact that they are doing it. It’s seldom that we really get to appreciate how different life can be on the other side of the world – surely anything that adds to our understanding is a good thing? I really hope I don’t become the cynical traveller that Jo prophesied – I want to see the world from a more innocent perspective. In the meantime, it was a pleasure to hang out with her and have a bit of banter and discussion with a very confident and self-assured individual.
On my final night in Boracay, Eric, Sassa, Vanny, Jo and I went for a few beers at a lush little beach-front bar, called Red Pirates. Run by an English girl and her local boyfriend (Jenny and Joey), its relaxed vibe and candle light was the perfect venue for a few cuba libras and some more San Miguel. Later, we moved on to the (much quieter) karaoke bar from the previous Saturday, and Jo demonstrated why she had been scared to take the stage previously. Vanny demonstrated a surprisingly mellow tone and sang several songs to applause from the floor. Eventually, around 1o’clock we rolled home, where I got the sudden urge to go night-swimming with my newly acquired snorkel and mask. Never straying deeper than arms reach, I skirted the shore sifting through shells and dead coral to find some souvenirs before my departure. Boracay was beautiful and very pleasant, but I was feeling the urge to move on and discover some more of the Philippine islands.
I managed to find some really sound people during my brief stay. Firstly, my diving instructor, Eric: At 42, he’s been living full-time in the Philippines for almost a year now. After our first day of diving, I stood him a couple of beers as we sat on the beach watching the first of many beautiful sunsets. Formerly an engineer with BMW, he’d gotten sick of the rat-race and tired of the cold weather and miserable people. As a diving enthusiast, he’d been coming to the Philippines for a while anyway and, with the lure of his long-term girlfriend pulling him back, it seems it was only a matter of time before he upped-sticks, sold up and left Europe. We share a lot of similar views about the state of western culture and the pleasures of Filipino life, and I immediately found myself warming to this most un-German of Germans. As the week progressed it became apparent that he was a very accomplished instructor…something that eased my introduction to the underwater world. At the end of my PADI Open Water course, I already knew I wanted to do an Advanced course. This involved 5 further dives (each in a different discipline): the wreck dive and the drift dive felt like true adventures. Winding round the rusting hull of an old fishing trawler, shadow boxing with clown fish and effortlessly gliding through schools of parrot fish, I felt like a bald, overweight Commander Bond in Thunderball. The drift dive was an exhilarating underwater rollercoaster – flying through scenery that I previously thought, only existed in Super Mario World. As the current whisks you along at speed, it’s hard not to pretend you’re Superman or veer into a flat roll like some kind of stunt pilot. Canny Eric, though, saved the best til last. After sundown on Wednesday, we headed out to the reef around Crocodile Island. Scubaed up and armed with powerful torches, we went on a night dive. The sheer exuberance of colour and the variety of underwater life was breath-taking. Eric also showed me how to cover my torch (you never turn it off, in case the bulb goes) and wave my hands, sparking an eruption of bioluminescence, produced my microscopic organisms. It was thirty minutes I will never forget – and made me think all the more about attaining a Divemaster qualification and perhaps instructing scuba for a living. I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather do it nor an instructor I’d rather do it with and I just want to say a big thank you to Eric and hope that we’ll meet again some day.
Still, my diurnal activities are only half the story…My neighbours at Saigon beach resort were Sassa and Vanny on one side and crazy Canadian Dave and his (considerably less crazy) girlfriend on the other. Dave, it turns out, was on vacation from teaching English in Korea and couldn’t recommend it enough. Most nights he had gotten himself gigs playing his guitar (very well) at Charlh’s beach bar. Consequently, I didn’t really get to see much of him, although we did go and check him out a few times. His set consisted of the likes of David Gray and the Dave Matthews Band, interspersed with a few of his own tunes. My favourite was his comic take on a very weird British phenomenon he’d encountered on a visit to Blighty…the car boot sale ;-).
Sassa and Vanny, on the other hand, were my constant nocturnal companions. On the Friday (my second evening, after crashing early on the Thursday, due to an accumulation of sleep-loss), they had seen me swinging lazily in the hammock on my porch. I contend that I was happily reading (‘Birdsong’ by Sebastian Faulkes – brilliant!), but they suspected I must be lonely and invited me out on what was a bit of a family jamboree. Sassa comes from southern Germany, Vanny from nearby Panay Island. They too were on holiday from their roles as First Mate and Cook on board inter-continental container ships. As Panay is only a short distance by boat, Vanny had invited his brothers Dave and Donny over for the evening…all well and good, but the rest of his siblings and some of their offspring had decided to come and ‘meet the girlfriend’! In all there were ten of us and I think Sassa was overwhelmed with the sheer number of relatives, while Vanny was stressing because it wasn’t turning out as planned. Despite the language barriers (although Sassa and the three brothers spoke excellent English, the sisters and the kids weren’t quite so fluent), and the volume of the music in Wave nightclub, we all managed to get along great and a good time was had by all. I spent most of the evening trying to explain why I didn’t have a girlfriend or a wife and politely trying to refuse to dance. The Filipinos don’t take no for an answer though, so between short (sweaty) periods on the dance-floor, I also had to quell attempts by the brothers to fix me up with a girl. As Dave was telling me, large families are common and considered the norm in the Philippines. Getting married young and producing plenty of offspring is the best way to ensure that you’ll be well cared for in later life. Already long-married at the age of 27, Dave was soon to fly out to England to work in one of the hotels at Heathrow Airport, having recently completed a course in Tourism and Hotel Management. He had a very idealised picture of London – something I hope isn’t compromised by the noise and the grime when he gets there. It is, of course, relatively big money for a Filipino to work in the UK, but I was careful to remind him that the cost of living there is far higher too. I really hope he is able to progress in his career and send plenty of money back home to his family. The club itself was pretty cool – for a start it was underground and dimly lit (evoking memories of the Cross). Set into the walls were several enormous fish tanks, sporting barracuda and several, more aesthetically-pleasing species. At first, the music left a lot to be desired – the usual crappy mix of HipHop and R’n’B you’d expect to find on a Friday night in Dudley. However, as time passed – and lubricated by several bottles of the excellent local brew (San Miguel Pale Pilsen – no relation) – the Japanese DJ’s eclectic tastes veered towards house and even some techno. Grooving away to some heavy beats, lights flashing, moody face on (‘cos Techno’s serious, right Dave?) – I could have been anywhere in the world…then I woke up as two seriously hammered Korean girls careened into my sandaled feet. I made my excuses and left around midnight, with the prospect of scuba diving the next day. Before I left, I managed to swap e-mail addresses with Dave, with promises of sending him to some top night-spots in London when he’s over.
For the rest of the week, I whiled away many happy twilight hours supping beer with Vanny and Sassa on their porch. Vanny also introduced me to the delights of the barbequed street food that I’d been too wary to try before. Having a local guy around is certainly advantageous, as I found when I took them to my favourite fish restaurant (as suggested by Eric)…Vanny was able to negotiate far cheaper prices. One night, the three of us ate and drank to our hearts’ content for the princely sum of 520 pesos…
I truly enjoyed all the time I spent in their company – a very close couple, always laughing and joking around, but not so cloyingly touchy-feely that I felt at all like a gooseberry. Vanny’s irrepressible sense of humour was wont to surface, unbidden, at any moment – as you can see from the photos, there’s little he won’t do for a laugh. To date, I’ve found this light-hearted, don’t-take-me-too-seriously attitude a hallmark of Filipino guys. It’s a very fun-loving and welcoming society…and I suspect one of the reasons why Filipina women are renowned for their beauty is due to their smiling so much as children. School starts at 6am to avoid the oppressive midday heat, so in the afternoons the beach is dominated by scores of happily playing kids: laughing and splashing in the surf, playing keepy-uppy with improvised shuttlecocks or playing team sports like football or volleyball. Everywhere - smiling, laughing, shouting and refreshingly uncensored by parents. An important factor in this is that, away from the major cities at least, the Philippines are a very safe and unthreatening environment – for local children and foreign visitors alike.
One thing you can’t avoid in the Philippines is Karaoke – or Videoke as they prefer to call it here. Virtually every bar worth its salt has one somewhere – tucked in a corner or pride of place in the centre of the room. This brings me on to the final ingredient in my week of merry-making – Texas Jo. Having posted on the Lonely Planet forum to get some tips about Boracay, I’d received a reply from a girl making her way down from Daguemente – in serious need of sociable beers and English conversation. Jo turned out to be a vivacious and attractive Korean/American lawyer, hailing from Houston, Texas. On her first night in Boracay, she insisted on dragging the three of us to a karaoke bar after a few beers, despite professing to having no singing talent whatsoever. As you all know, I’m not averse to a little flagrant exhibitionism, so I was happily dragged. The fact that there was a 10,000peso prize also appealed and I felt that Frank (Sinatra) was with me that night. Sassa and Vanny weren’t quite so enthusiastic, but came along for the ride.
As the night wore on, it became apparent that the competition had been going on for some weeks and that all the finalists had won previous shows to secure their places in the final. I felt particularly hard done by, as my rendition of ‘My Way’ brought the house down and the standard of some of the actual competitors was pretty poor, to say the least. Far more upsetting, was seeing Jo bottle her attempt at La Bamba, thinking she might get thrown off the stage by a knowledgeable crowd. What a wuss! First night on the sauce and first English conversation in 3 weeks and she couldn’t even bring herself to sing one little song. Of course, I’d never say this to her face…not the biggest girl in the world, she still has various martial arts to her name and any girl who’s travelled around South America and China alone has my full respect!
Jo was taking an extended career break (she’d been on the road 17months already and wasn’t planning on going home until April) because ‘you don’t get vacation in the States’. At (now) 30, she saw this as her last opportunity to really travel before knuckling down to a working life. I guess in some respects I was slightly disappointed that I’d yet to find someone who was travelling for similar reasons to mine…but on reflection, it’s not people’s reasons for travelling that are important so much as the fact that they are doing it. It’s seldom that we really get to appreciate how different life can be on the other side of the world – surely anything that adds to our understanding is a good thing? I really hope I don’t become the cynical traveller that Jo prophesied – I want to see the world from a more innocent perspective. In the meantime, it was a pleasure to hang out with her and have a bit of banter and discussion with a very confident and self-assured individual.
On my final night in Boracay, Eric, Sassa, Vanny, Jo and I went for a few beers at a lush little beach-front bar, called Red Pirates. Run by an English girl and her local boyfriend (Jenny and Joey), its relaxed vibe and candle light was the perfect venue for a few cuba libras and some more San Miguel. Later, we moved on to the (much quieter) karaoke bar from the previous Saturday, and Jo demonstrated why she had been scared to take the stage previously. Vanny demonstrated a surprisingly mellow tone and sang several songs to applause from the floor. Eventually, around 1o’clock we rolled home, where I got the sudden urge to go night-swimming with my newly acquired snorkel and mask. Never straying deeper than arms reach, I skirted the shore sifting through shells and dead coral to find some souvenirs before my departure. Boracay was beautiful and very pleasant, but I was feeling the urge to move on and discover some more of the Philippine islands.
October 24, 2004
Scuba Diving - the door to a whole new world
Well, it may be Sunday, but even in the catholic Philippines, PADI certification and tide wait for no man. After three days of classroom, practical sessions in shallow water and 5 dives, I am now a qualified Open Water Diver. The classroom stuff wasn't difficult, but only the biggest idiot wouldn't pay attention when it's something on which your life can depend at 25m beneath the surface. I appear to have taken to diving like a...er...fish? This really surprised me as I've never been a strong swimmer and thought the chances of my panicking at uncomfortable, underwater situatuons were reasonably high. However, logic dictates that panicking is only going to cause more trouble...so you stay calm.
In a totally different way to the alien nature of turning up in a foreign country, the underwater world is incomparable to anything else. You see it on TV or in films...and you may even have been snorkelling - but it's not until you get away from the bouyancy fluctuations of the surface depths that everything starts to make sense. This lumbering 115kg mass of bone and muscle (and obviously a teensy-weensy bit of fat!) encumbered in about 20kg of dive gear and weights, does not locomote particularly fluidly or easily on land. Attach a pair of fins (flippers to the uninitiated) and cover with 15 metres of brine, and suddenly the world floats by effortlessly. And what a world - everything swaying and pulsing. Only fluid motions allowed - even the darting of frightened fish or the sharp closing of plant tendrils seem to have a languid smoothness unseen on terra firma. I'm totally bewitched by the ocean floor and can see myself really getting into the whole scuba thing. I've already signed up to my advanced open water certificate, which will include a wreck dive and a night dive.
Apart from the diving, I've mostly been eating and reading. The food here is different but every bit as appealing as Korea's. I've limited myself to one piece of junk food - after the tiring session in the internet cafe the other night. The rest of the time I eat...fish. Squid...Lapu-Lapu...tiger prawns...shrimp...blue marlin...tuna...ad infinitum! I typical meal consists of a small fish (would make 2 fillets about 2inches by 6inches) broiled in a soup stock, a (Fin) handful of tiger prawns and a couple of squid (these latter two choice, grilled with garlic. On the side you'd have two cups of garlic rice and a drink (eg a whole green coconut). With friendly and attentive service the bill comes to 220pesos...or 2pounds 20pence...aah...life's hard.
Back with more, later in the week. Take care, y'all and stay in touch.
In a totally different way to the alien nature of turning up in a foreign country, the underwater world is incomparable to anything else. You see it on TV or in films...and you may even have been snorkelling - but it's not until you get away from the bouyancy fluctuations of the surface depths that everything starts to make sense. This lumbering 115kg mass of bone and muscle (and obviously a teensy-weensy bit of fat!) encumbered in about 20kg of dive gear and weights, does not locomote particularly fluidly or easily on land. Attach a pair of fins (flippers to the uninitiated) and cover with 15 metres of brine, and suddenly the world floats by effortlessly. And what a world - everything swaying and pulsing. Only fluid motions allowed - even the darting of frightened fish or the sharp closing of plant tendrils seem to have a languid smoothness unseen on terra firma. I'm totally bewitched by the ocean floor and can see myself really getting into the whole scuba thing. I've already signed up to my advanced open water certificate, which will include a wreck dive and a night dive.
Apart from the diving, I've mostly been eating and reading. The food here is different but every bit as appealing as Korea's. I've limited myself to one piece of junk food - after the tiring session in the internet cafe the other night. The rest of the time I eat...fish. Squid...Lapu-Lapu...tiger prawns...shrimp...blue marlin...tuna...ad infinitum! I typical meal consists of a small fish (would make 2 fillets about 2inches by 6inches) broiled in a soup stock, a (Fin) handful of tiger prawns and a couple of squid (these latter two choice, grilled with garlic. On the side you'd have two cups of garlic rice and a drink (eg a whole green coconut). With friendly and attentive service the bill comes to 220pesos...or 2pounds 20pence...aah...life's hard.
Back with more, later in the week. Take care, y'all and stay in touch.
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