For lack of a better name, I'm calling the place where I've been staying for the past week, "Mike's Beach" because it was actually Mike's beach. And a lovely one at that.
Today was a travel day, a non-day at best where you wake up at some ridiculous hour in the morning feeling drowsy and ever so slightly naseous from lack of sleep, forcing yourself through the motions of bathroom, dressing, packing and eating because you know that if you don't you'll regret it later. Nothing screams "I told you so" louder than a stinking, garishly pink bathroom with piss speckled toilet seats and no running water on 50 tonne rust bucket of a ferry in the middle of a turbulent ocean. But hey, at least they had a toilet.
Before this charming view of the ladies room however, the journey wasn't so bad. Once you get over the initial drowsiness and lack of willingness to do anything, early morning starts are pretty great. The air is fresh and cool, a great plus in the jungle tropics, birds twitter and sqwak animatedly, crickets chirp softly, tuko geckos call out in their characteristic manner "t̟ɔʔ' ku...t̟ɔʔ' ku". Sunlight begins to peek over the horizon, and the streets are empty save a few stray dogs with a death wish scattered on the winding roads. Surprisingly, the roads on Mindoro Oriental island are in excellent condition - smooth concrete, no pot-holes, wide enough for two lanes - their only fault being the fact they don't always join up. So one road will go all the way round the island one way, but then suddenly stop and end in the middle of the jungle. If you want to reach your desired destination, it is then necessary to take a detour all the way around the other side of the jungle island. This isn't a problem though as long as you know what's coming.
Continuing on the fresh aired tour of the jungle, you'll pass a large roaring waterfall which drowns out all other natural sounds. Occasionally, a wasp like motorcycle will roar past you throwing up exhaust fumes in your face, and you will curse at them until the pollutant particles subside. Once out of the jungle, nearer to the port, level rice fields replace the creeping jungle, turning the ground around you into the multi-coloured sky of a sunrise. Clouds break and sunlight slowly illuminates the world around you, water buffalos snuffling their way lazily through the mud.
Calapan port itself is like any other little village, in fact very similar to those of Central America. Lots of beaurocracy, tiny pieces of coloured paper and ferry fares later, and you're on a boat, oblivious of the fact that this giant vessel is a potential deathtrap for so many reasons. Second hand, recycled gift boats from China, Japan etc. dating from t he 70s should really be updated in my opinion. Then again, you don't always take a proper look at the giant machine until after you've arrived on the other side, en route to the wonderous traffic and pollution of Manila.
So why was I in Mindoro Oriental, traversing the jungle at an early hour? Hidden away in little bays full of mangroves around the island are little private beaches and houses. Puerto Galeras itself, on the north of the island, is very popular with foreigners and retired expats who will build themselves nice private houses for their own benefit as well as that of others (for a small fee of couse). The diving in this area is also great, as are other watersports in general. If you know where you're going, you could do a lot worse than retreating to another island in the Philippine archipelago for a break from Manila.
In case you were wondering, no, I did not see any lions, tigers or bears in the jungle. I did however see a four giant sea turtles, one which was munching contedly on some purple coral, two sea snakes, an electric shell - it's actually electric, don't ask me how - a komodo dragonesque creature, wild dogs, a spiky flounder like fish, and countless geckos.
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| Mike's Beach, Mindoro Oriental, PH |
Today was a travel day, a non-day at best where you wake up at some ridiculous hour in the morning feeling drowsy and ever so slightly naseous from lack of sleep, forcing yourself through the motions of bathroom, dressing, packing and eating because you know that if you don't you'll regret it later. Nothing screams "I told you so" louder than a stinking, garishly pink bathroom with piss speckled toilet seats and no running water on 50 tonne rust bucket of a ferry in the middle of a turbulent ocean. But hey, at least they had a toilet.
Before this charming view of the ladies room however, the journey wasn't so bad. Once you get over the initial drowsiness and lack of willingness to do anything, early morning starts are pretty great. The air is fresh and cool, a great plus in the jungle tropics, birds twitter and sqwak animatedly, crickets chirp softly, tuko geckos call out in their characteristic manner "t̟ɔʔ' ku...t̟ɔʔ' ku". Sunlight begins to peek over the horizon, and the streets are empty save a few stray dogs with a death wish scattered on the winding roads. Surprisingly, the roads on Mindoro Oriental island are in excellent condition - smooth concrete, no pot-holes, wide enough for two lanes - their only fault being the fact they don't always join up. So one road will go all the way round the island one way, but then suddenly stop and end in the middle of the jungle. If you want to reach your desired destination, it is then necessary to take a detour all the way around the other side of the jungle island. This isn't a problem though as long as you know what's coming.
Continuing on the fresh aired tour of the jungle, you'll pass a large roaring waterfall which drowns out all other natural sounds. Occasionally, a wasp like motorcycle will roar past you throwing up exhaust fumes in your face, and you will curse at them until the pollutant particles subside. Once out of the jungle, nearer to the port, level rice fields replace the creeping jungle, turning the ground around you into the multi-coloured sky of a sunrise. Clouds break and sunlight slowly illuminates the world around you, water buffalos snuffling their way lazily through the mud.
Calapan port itself is like any other little village, in fact very similar to those of Central America. Lots of beaurocracy, tiny pieces of coloured paper and ferry fares later, and you're on a boat, oblivious of the fact that this giant vessel is a potential deathtrap for so many reasons. Second hand, recycled gift boats from China, Japan etc. dating from t he 70s should really be updated in my opinion. Then again, you don't always take a proper look at the giant machine until after you've arrived on the other side, en route to the wonderous traffic and pollution of Manila.
So why was I in Mindoro Oriental, traversing the jungle at an early hour? Hidden away in little bays full of mangroves around the island are little private beaches and houses. Puerto Galeras itself, on the north of the island, is very popular with foreigners and retired expats who will build themselves nice private houses for their own benefit as well as that of others (for a small fee of couse). The diving in this area is also great, as are other watersports in general. If you know where you're going, you could do a lot worse than retreating to another island in the Philippine archipelago for a break from Manila.
In case you were wondering, no, I did not see any lions, tigers or bears in the jungle. I did however see a four giant sea turtles, one which was munching contedly on some purple coral, two sea snakes, an electric shell - it's actually electric, don't ask me how - a komodo dragonesque creature, wild dogs, a spiky flounder like fish, and countless geckos.
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