Today was full of adventure. Creepy and exciting adventure which I'm going manipulate to sound even more exciting than it actually was, because that's just how I roll. I kid. I would never do that.
So. Adventure...
The day started in a panic with my mother yelling at me hurry up and get showered because we were leaving in 15. Ten minutes later, showered, packed and ready to go, I find out this was a lie. We had a whole half hour to spare. So I mosied down to the mouse infested "cafeteria" and ordered myself something for the most important meal of the day, only to be served rubbery egg on crustless white bread. Delicious. Two hours later we arrived at our seaside destination of Bislig, on the eastern shoreline of Mindanao island. As always, that first glimpse of the ocean is immensely exciting for me. Being at true sea level and seeing that massive body of water, waves gently lapping at the sand in friendly greeting, but with a body so vast and overwhelming at the same time.
Bislig has the feel of your typical sea-side town: dry, hot and salty. Life has a slow-paced, lazy aura about it. The sun is hot and blistering, but a warm breeze from the ocean keeps the palm trees in constant motion. This aside, the city is mostly built on marshland, so houses are built on bamboo or wooden stilts, and long thin kayak like boats are used to navigate the marshy waters. Houses are made of wood, and freely decorated with potted plants, trees and vines, as well as an assortment of useful fishing gear and fishing produce. A long heavy bridge has been built over these houses and the marsh to connect non-marshland with the concrete political and transportation center of the town. This is as far as I got. Again, two hours later after suitable transportation (although this was also a lie as was found out later - transportation was not suitable) was negotiated, we made way for Sikahuy, a village center of one of the combated tribal lands of Surigao del Sur.
These tribal lands are a very rich source of natural resources which private companies have taken advantage of in the past. The trees that grow in this area, large, white, bare trees are an excellent source of paper, and their forests have been largely exploited in the past. Hence the view of greatly reduced, ghostly white forests of felled trees. The activities of the paper company are no longer, due to possible bankruptcy, or the appearance of a larger source of income, coal. I do not know. Today however, privately owned miniature coal shafts can be founded dotted all along the now barren lands. These are open to curious explorers accompanied by chatty and equally curious semi-land owners. I do not really recommend entering a coal shaft in the middle of the day, in a hot and humid environment. It is already quite a cramped and uncomfortable experience even for the smallest of people, but temperatures are much higher down there. This is not only uncomfortable for the self, the the extreme heat can loosens the soil which is not the safest for climbing, and can result in walls caving in. The locals like to attribute the sounds of trickling soil and falling rocks to the presence of ghosts of dead miners, but my companion quickly assured me that a true catholic does not believe in such things. Really?
After the sweltering dusty mines, we discovered a little stream, surprisingly clear and healthy. Four little boys were jumping around naked and happy in the natural pools, quite astonished at my white, barefooted presence, but openly friendly and unihibited. After demanding a quick picture, they went back to their games and wrestling and I made my way back to the village. More exploring lead to the discovery of a church, two schools and health centre, all which have been constructed with the help of coal money...
So. Adventure...
The day started in a panic with my mother yelling at me hurry up and get showered because we were leaving in 15. Ten minutes later, showered, packed and ready to go, I find out this was a lie. We had a whole half hour to spare. So I mosied down to the mouse infested "cafeteria" and ordered myself something for the most important meal of the day, only to be served rubbery egg on crustless white bread. Delicious. Two hours later we arrived at our seaside destination of Bislig, on the eastern shoreline of Mindanao island. As always, that first glimpse of the ocean is immensely exciting for me. Being at true sea level and seeing that massive body of water, waves gently lapping at the sand in friendly greeting, but with a body so vast and overwhelming at the same time.
Bislig has the feel of your typical sea-side town: dry, hot and salty. Life has a slow-paced, lazy aura about it. The sun is hot and blistering, but a warm breeze from the ocean keeps the palm trees in constant motion. This aside, the city is mostly built on marshland, so houses are built on bamboo or wooden stilts, and long thin kayak like boats are used to navigate the marshy waters. Houses are made of wood, and freely decorated with potted plants, trees and vines, as well as an assortment of useful fishing gear and fishing produce. A long heavy bridge has been built over these houses and the marsh to connect non-marshland with the concrete political and transportation center of the town. This is as far as I got. Again, two hours later after suitable transportation (although this was also a lie as was found out later - transportation was not suitable) was negotiated, we made way for Sikahuy, a village center of one of the combated tribal lands of Surigao del Sur.
These tribal lands are a very rich source of natural resources which private companies have taken advantage of in the past. The trees that grow in this area, large, white, bare trees are an excellent source of paper, and their forests have been largely exploited in the past. Hence the view of greatly reduced, ghostly white forests of felled trees. The activities of the paper company are no longer, due to possible bankruptcy, or the appearance of a larger source of income, coal. I do not know. Today however, privately owned miniature coal shafts can be founded dotted all along the now barren lands. These are open to curious explorers accompanied by chatty and equally curious semi-land owners. I do not really recommend entering a coal shaft in the middle of the day, in a hot and humid environment. It is already quite a cramped and uncomfortable experience even for the smallest of people, but temperatures are much higher down there. This is not only uncomfortable for the self, the the extreme heat can loosens the soil which is not the safest for climbing, and can result in walls caving in. The locals like to attribute the sounds of trickling soil and falling rocks to the presence of ghosts of dead miners, but my companion quickly assured me that a true catholic does not believe in such things. Really?
After the sweltering dusty mines, we discovered a little stream, surprisingly clear and healthy. Four little boys were jumping around naked and happy in the natural pools, quite astonished at my white, barefooted presence, but openly friendly and unihibited. After demanding a quick picture, they went back to their games and wrestling and I made my way back to the village. More exploring lead to the discovery of a church, two schools and health centre, all which have been constructed with the help of coal money...
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