Thursday, March 27, 2008

The Sun Shines in Kenting

At the southern- most reaches of Taiwan, you will find the sand is groomed, the sun is shining, and the water is an agreeable temperature. This place is called Kenting.

The bus ride there was almost as pleasur- able as the vacation itself. Imagine a first class section of a plane trans- planted onto a bus. Each person had their own chair to a row- no sharing arm rests or crawling over one another to use the bathroom. With a push of a button, the chair reclined back on its own. Another push, and the foot rest automatic- ally extended. And then a final push started the massage mechanism in the chair- a sure fire indication we were traveling in style. Then, at each seat, you had your own television, and once you navigated through the mangled Chinese, you could listen to an array of music, watch films or television shows, or play video games with an attached controller. I suggested we should just ride around on this bus the entire weekend, but my idea was voted down.

We left Taipei at Midnight and arrived in Kaosiung at around five in the morning. Buses left from this city every ten minutes or so, but we stopped for some coffee and breakfast. Before we knew it, we finished our morning snacks, hopped back on the bus, and slept the next 1.5 hours to Kenting.

We arrived among the sand and surf around 8:00 and walked to our first desti- nation- the Aquarium. One of the most impressive aquariums I have ever seen, this place housed a whale shark (a nice second act to my impressive swim with the fish a few days earlier), penguins, manta rays, coral fish, beluga whales, and much much more. You could even take a 3D tour through the "ancient ocean" to feel like you are swimming with the fish of the prehistoric seas. That was quite a thrill.


After lunch, we rented a van to drive us to our hotel, a thirty minute drive along the coastline, and we checked in. While we were there, we rented scooters to drive around Kenting as public transportation is not as convenient as the buses and taxis in Taipei. Our first stop was Eluanbi to see a lighthouse that was built in 1882. However, this lighthouse stands over the site of an ancient lighthouse that was constructed over 5,000 years ago at the southernmost tip of Taiwan. The park offers stunning views of the coast line, picturesque tropical flora, and boardwalk strolls along the dried, dead coral.

After the park tour, we hopped back on our scooters and putted into town for a delicious dinner. Of all things, Kenting is known for its Mexican food. So, we went to a very famous place, the name I can't recall, and I veered from Mexican and went straight for the baby-back ribs and bbq chicken combo. The meal was HEAVEN. One of the best strips of meat I have encountered in my short 23 years on this earth.

With our stomachs satisfied, we got back on our scooter and went into the main drag of the town with night- markets, vendors, clubs, bars, restaurants, stores, carnival rides, and games. I won a little stuffed animal dog for my friend at the waterballoon/ dart-throwing stand. The street was busy and had plenty to offer her new found tourists. And after plenty of tasting and throwing and trying and tempting, we climbed back on our scooters to go home and prepare for an early morning with a maniac.



A maniac? you ask. Yes, a maniac. At 7:00 AM, we woke up, went for a local breakfast, and met our maniac. We piled onto the back of a four- wheeler and he zoomed us down to the beach front. Waiting for us there were jet skis, banana boats, and water tubing equipment. We donned only the most fashionable of life preservers and piled onto what looked like an over sized banana attached to the back of the jetski. We all straddled this monstrous tube and the maniac took off. I sat in the front, so aside from getting splashed, I had a good view of what was happening. At one point, however, I noticed the driver of the jet ski had stopped. He then took a 90 degree turn to the right and gunned it. So here we were, facing north- a rope attached on to a jet ski screaming away to the east and only I knew that we were going to have a date with the ocean in just a few seconds. What I didn't realize was that the jerk would be so hard, it would feel like a mack truck just rammed us from the side as we went crashing into the water. We climbed back onto the banana boat and made our way back to shore. What was waiting for us was a lot worse.

The four of us then got onto a tube with winged edges that is only designed for 2 people. We sat down with our legs across staring happily at the person next to us. The jet ski took off and for a brief moment the ride was calm and enjoyable. However, it wasn't long before we were out on open ocean and the waves started bouncing us around like popcorn. One friend, who was towards the back was bouncing at least three feet in the air. My friend Kate, who was in the front with me looked like she was in child birth. At first she let out terrified screams but when we started flying around turns and feeling the g's pressing against us, those screams were muffled and replaced by a reddened face, gaping jaw, squinted eyes, and a look of total and painful constipation. I was laughing the entire time. This maniac was nuts and one person, at the back, fell off the tube. At the start, the guy told us that this was an easy one and no one should fall off. So of course, when she did fall off, the maniac continued driving leaving her helplessly bobbling in the sea. Eventually he noticed her and went back to pick her up.

When we returned, I opted to do the same one but this time with only two people. Again, it was a crazy ride of pain, laughter, and "this guy is trying to kill us" moments. When we returned, Kate and Amber decided to try out their luck riding on the jet ski instead, hoping that ride would be a little bit less intense. Oh no. The main aim of the maniac was to twist and turn so much that Kate and Amber would fall off the Jet Ski- which they did- many times. One time, Kate even took the man him. This is by far my favorite photograph of the trip. Kate and Amber are supposed to be on the back of the jet ski. Instead, there is no sign of Amber and Kate is seen only holding onto the driver for dear life.


Once we got washed up and dressed, we got back on the scooters and drove out to see vistas of the National Seashore. The drive out was glorious and the scenery sublime. The panoramic shot of the seashore was so beautiful, I decided to use it as the backdrop as the heading to my Taiwanablog. Here is the photograph again in larger dimensions. You can't argue just how stunning this scene is.


We then rode our scooters back to the the area around the hotel and stopped off for a quick drive in the go-karts. For NT$100, we got 25 laps on this miniscule course, but the carts were good and we were the only drivers making for some reckless, exciting fun on the course. Some were cautious, but you tended to fly by them.


Well, with that we got some lunch at a delicious Thai restaurant, did some shopping in the shops, checked out of the hotel and took a van back to Kaosiung. But this time, instead of taking a five hour overnight bus, we took the high-speed train and we were back in the center of Taipei in 1.5 hours. Trust me, this baby was fast.

This trip to Kenting had significant meaning because it was the last ho rah of one of my best friends here in Taiwan- Kate. We met during training, and while we didn't hit it off right away- something to the effect that there was a giant snoopy involved- we grew to be best of friends. We had been to Taroko Gorge together and witnessed the amazing limestone walls. We had fought the squid balls in Hualien and had swimming races at Fulong beach. And together we never missed a weekend out/ or in, even if it was against our the other's wishes. Thanks peer pressure. Well, when we returned to Taipei, we went to KTV to sing our hearts out and then said our final goodbyes as Kate boarded a plane back to Chicago the next day. She will be missed here in Taipei, but I am sure our paths will cross again someday. Or else.

So with that, from your Kenting smiling master of go-carts, scooters, and jet skis; and mourner of the loss of Amber's lover, Michael.

Sunday, March 23, 2008

The Assault on Mayon Volcano

The raison d'etre of my trip to The Philippines would not be complete without camping on a big dangerous Volcano. And as luck would have it, one of the world's most dangerous volcanoes- Mount Mayon- happened to be resting on the outskirts of Legaspi.

I hired a porter and a guide from Bicol Adven- tures and our designated departure time was 2:00 PM. That gave me enough time to head over to the Cagsawa Ruins for some scenic shots of the Volcano. In 1814, the Mayon Volcano erupted, spewing scolding lava and 30 feet of ash over the ancient town of Cagsawa- 30 minutes from the city of Legaspi. Frightened, over a thousand townsfolk took refuge in the local church and were ultimately buried alive. Today, nothing but the bell tower and some old ruins remain scattered about the grounds. Aside from the area's tragic history, it offers a spectacular view, and a constant reminder, of the beauty and danger of the Mount Mayon Volcano.

At 2,420 meters in height, Mt. Mayon is interna- tionally know to be one of the few volcanoes in the world with a perfectly symmetrical cone. She is said to be the twin sister of Mt. Fuji in Japan. It has erupted almost 50 times in the last 400 years, making it the most active volcano in The Philippines.

In July, 2006, Mt. Mayon came alive again with a silent eruption. Almost 40,000 people were evacuated from the region, until August when the eruption seemed less imminent (although the swollen mountain did cause some alarm.) The disaster actually came in November of that year when Typhoon Durian hit the area sending mudslides of lahar, or volcanic rocks, and water zooming down to the Casagwa area of Daraga again, covering the homes up to their rooftops in mud and ash. Students were buried alive in their dorm- itories. Because whole villages were wiped clear off the map, the death toll may never be known, but it is believed to be at least over 1,000 people.

At 2:00, I met my guide, Joel, and we drove with our porter to the base camp of an old golf course along the edge of the volcano. One of the nice things about renting a porter is that they will carry everything for you, and you only have to worry about your own knapsack. A great deal, if you ask me! The itinerary was as follows- a 1.5 hour hike to Camp One where we would set up camp for the night. Then, at 5:30 AM, we would climb another 2 hours to Camp Two, take lunch, and then finally make an assault on the Knife's Edge, the highest possible point one can climb before one is drowned in poisonous gases.

The ride up was a fairly easy jungle trek. The weather was mild, the ground was dry, and my sunburnt back was not nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be. Along the way, we were greeted by roaming cattle, farmers with their tiny farms, excellent views of the volcano and commanding vistas of hills, city life, and ocean. There really are no ways for me to describe the beauty of Mt. Mayon, so I will instead let these photographs make a feeble, yet equally insufficient attempt to portray to you what it was I saw while marching up to the heavens.

We arrived at camp one. My guide and porter set up the tents and cooked dinner, offering me time to explore the surrounding area and take in the fact that I was camping on a dangerous volcano in The Philippines. I took some photographs, joined my guide and porter for dinner, then hit the sack early so I would be rested for an early, and arduous hike in the morning. Just how arduous, I was about to find out.

Morning came quickly, but when you are sleeping on the ground, it seems as though it can't come quickly enough. We ate breakfast, packed for lunch, and took off on the trail. This part of the journey proved to be much more difficult than the first third of our trek up to Camp One. For starters, we were now trekking up a part of the volcano called the gully, or a deep trench along the side of the volcano glossed over smoothly by dried lava. To make matters more difficult, the clear blue skies of yesterday were now replaced by dark clouds and heavy rain. Smooth lava and heavy rain make for slippery conditions, and climbing this mountain in my Nike running shoes was no help at all- there was plenty of slipping, sliding, and cursing along the route.

But the biggest danger was not the slippery trails, or the possibility of eruption. Oh no. The heavy rains on this mountain meant for something far more treacherous. My guide informed me that after only five minutes of rain, encountering a flash flood was an almost certainty. He said that if we start to hear rumbling, run like hell to the side of the mountain or you will be washed away, never to be heard from again. Because on dried, smooth lava, it's as if you are climbing up a deadly water slide, and if the rapids come at you, there is nothing to grab.

Just as we reached Camp Two, we examined the weather, the trail conditions, and my shoes, and made the disheart- ening decision to turn back and descend the volcano. Although it was disappointing, I was ok with the decision to head back because I got what I wanted- a camping trip on the volcano. It reminded me of my seventh grade vacation with my Dad to California, where all I wanted to do was sleep on the San Andreas Fault. There's something about me that finds sleeping on dangerous things exciting.

Well, we turned home and when we got back to the hotel, I had discovered that all my clean clothes we wet and dirty. I had no intention of bringing these clothes home with me like this, so I inquired if there was a laundromat within the vicinity of the hotel. Claiming there was one not too far off, my guide drove me in the jeep to the laundromat only to discover it was a dry-cleaning service. My bus back to Legaspi was at six o'clock and the company said they would have it ready by five o'clock.


Now there are some really good tour companies out there. They will pick you up from the airport, give you food, and take you out with them. But here in Legaspi, I found the king of adventure tours- Bicol Adventure Tours. Let's review the list of how they have helped me, besides for which I was paying them. They picked me up and dropped me off at the bus depot, organized my hotel accommodations, waited with me at ten different banks and Western Union for over two hours, took me to the hospital, loaned me 1,000 pesos for medicine, and now, were offering to pick up my dry cleaning so I could go and explore the city a little bit more before I had to leave. I have only this to say to you- if you are planning to go to Legaspi to swim with the Whale Sharks or climb Mt. Mayon, or do whatever else, then you must book with Bicol Adventures because they are truly a five star organization. You can e-mail them at bicoladventure@digitelone.com.


My final vignette comes from the money changer in the Mall. I was low on cash and had $20 US and NT$1,500. I found a money changer and exchanged what I had for pesos. While I was standing in line, a woman turned to me asked me where I was from. I told her I was from Boston, and she said she LOVED Boston. Her son went there last February for a mock UN session. I asked her if that was put on by the United Nation Association of Greater Boston, and she said that it was indeed. I told her that I used to work for the United Nations Association and like that, I had met an instant friend. We talked about the program, her son, and my travels. And after ten minutes of chatting I said my farewells to her and hit the town. I went around the city trying different foods, staying away from dairy, and searching for some postcards/souvenirs.


At 5:30 I met Joel with my clean clothes and the two of us returned back to the Bus Depot where I caught an overnight bus back to Manila. I backtracked my way from Cubao to the Airport and had an airport experience unlike any other. First, in order to enter the airport, you need your electronic ticket and a passport. It was fortunate I printed it at home or else I was in The Philippines indefinitely. Then you have to go through a security checkpoint before you can even check in to get your ticket. Once you have your boarding pass, you go through another security checkpoint, only to be greeted with a delightful surprise. What surprise is this? Well, it's an airport duty collection. Here, you must pay in cash 750 pesos, or almost US$18 just to use the Manila International Airport. A sure fire indication of a corrupt government because I can bet you that money will never leave the pockets of corrupt bureaucrats. Finally, you pass through customs, the final security check, and then you play the waiting game before it's time to board your plane home.


From your dairy-eating, dairy-regretting, black sand beach babysitter, whale shark diver, Mayon volcano navigator of the fearless islands of The Philippines, Michael.

Friday, March 21, 2008

Shark Hunting

Whale Sharks. The largest fish in the world. The third largest beast in the ocean coming in after whales and the giant squid. They can measure up to 60 feet in length and can reach a weight of almost 81,500 lb., or the equivalent of over 40 Volkswagon Beetles put together. Their appearance becomes even more terrifying if you get a decent look at the 350 rows of tiny teeth down their throat, ideal for snacking on their favorite dinner- plankton. That's right- these giants are vegetarians, although the sheer sight of them swimming up along side of you can set your heartbeat up a few gears.

Since I was a child, I have been fascinated, and terrified, of sharks. During Shark Week on The Discovery Channel, I would stay up until 4:00 AM just to know the most dangerous place to be attacked by a shark. That's why, when I was flipping through my lonely planet guide book a few weeks before my vacation, I decided I had to include a trip to swim with the Whale Sharks in Donsol to take the first step in overcoming my debilitating fear of sharks and start to respect them as glorious animals.

I met my guides from Bicol Adventures, Ray and Mercy, at six o'clock in the morning. With plenty of money this time, we made a stop in the town center to pick up a shark enthusiast traveler from England who has been living in Cambodia for the past four months running a town house called The Monkey Republic. With everyone set, a tank full of gas, and eager minds we set off on the hour and a half long journey to the town of Donsol.

The ride there was a pictur- esque jungle trek. Speeding through winding turns and verdant scenes, there was hardly any traffic to be encountered. This was not a sleepy road, however, as hundreds of bungalows and small homes dotted the street side with families working outside or children marching off to school. Some homes were situated in clearly wet fields and so they rested on top of stilts to keep the inside dry. Too excited to sleep, I watched these fleeting scenes of Filipino life scurry by me.

Only a decade ago, Donsol was a sleepy fishing village without much claim to the world. In 1998, some foreign tourists spotted these blue-grey behemoths and overnight, the town was in the international spot light. Unfortunately, poachers got wind of this gathering and arrived before the tourists could. Immediately, restrictions were put on the hunting of these Whale Sharks, and ecotourism ever since has protected their migration to Donsol. When we arrived in town, clearly not much had changed. There is only one bridge in the city wide enough for only one car to cross at a time. When we arrived, there was some traffic jam holding us up for about ten minutes. With the congestion cleared away, we made our way down the road to the Donsol Visitor Center.

I casually asked my guide, after noticing several painting of Whale Sharks on the town walls, if the most residents had swum with the Butanding, the local word for Whale Shark. She responded that most people here didn't even know what a Butanding was.

Our guide arranged a boat for us, with four other visitors to share the exper- ience, and most import- antly, to share the cost. And after only ten minutes of waiting around, we were out on the bright blue ocean in search of what brought me to Legaspi in the first place. The boats themselves were a far cry from state of the art. There was no sonar, radio, faxes, or weather instruments- just three or four guys standing on the bow looking for the sharks. I sat there wondering how such a simple method could prove to be so effective in finding the Whale Sharks. But the guide informed us before we left the shore that the peak season to find the sharks was February through May, and with visibility at its best in March, he gave us a 100% guarantee that we would be swimming with sharks by noon. He was right.

After forty-five minutes of driving around, the guide informed us to put on our snorkel gear and fins and hang over the edge of the boat. We were handed strict instructions not to jump before we were given the go ahead by the guide as the boat started to speed up. Apparently, a Butanding had been spotted. Before we knew it, the boat had come to a halt and the driver yelled, "JUMP!"

Now here I am- thousands of miles from home. I am hanging over the side of a boat while a guide I don't know is telling me, an American deathly afraid of anything that swims in the water let alone the world's largest shark, to knowingly jump into the ocean where I will be face to face with a very big fish. The other travelers jump enthusiastically into the water as I look at the dark blue surface below me and think, "What the hell am I doing?"

I hold my breath and jump into the water.

I start bobbing in the water and kicking my new fins to keep up with the rest of the group. We start swimming at a pretty reasonable clip towards the guide. I can here my new friends yelling "OH MY GOD!!" and "THAT'S F*CKING HUGE!" (Pardon my French, but I do believe those words are the most accurate in portraying what goes on in your mind when you see one.) I swim over to the guide and he tells me to look. I submerge and look to my left. I see nothing but open, dark water. I pop back up and the guide yells again, "LOOK!" I look to my right this time, but again, I see nothing but emptiness. Once more I look up at the guide who, instead of just yelling directions, is this time pointing straight down. I lower my head and fix my gaze right below me. There it is, the Butanding in all it's length and magnificence. I am so close to this beauty that I am literally walking on top of her. Her grey spots set against her blue body float seamlessly through the water. She is so big, you can only see parts of her at one time. And to be in the presence of this enormous animal not in a cage, not behind a plate of glass in an aquarium, but swimming around freely and carelessly in the wild results in an emotion so overpowering, so elementary yet terrifyingly new, it can quite possibly move you to tears.



Eventually the Whale Shark dives down out of view, you snorkel around until the boat picks you up, and that is the extent of your swim with the Butanding.

When we arrived back on the boat, the guide told us the Whale Shark we saw was about seven meters in length, or about 25 feet long. (Although when you are swimming with the Whale Sharks, it's as if she takes up the entire ocean with her.) That day we had a total of eight to ten interactions with the Butanding. Some were smaller babies, and were frightened easily. Others were bigger and older, almost ten meters, and played with us much longer before diving down to depths unreachable by our snorkels. But each time I dove into that water, I had to play many headgames with myself, playing a convincing role that these Butanding were not dangerous. Even though that may not be entirely accurate.

While the Whale Sharks won't eat you, they are still very large animals. Sometimes when you jumped into the water, you were greeted by an enormous shark's face swimming right at you. These babies don't get out of the way either, and unless you want to know what it's like to get hit by 40 cars (going about 3 miles per hour), there are times you are scrambling to get out of its way. There is also one other part of the shark you should watch out for- the tail. The guide informed us we should always know where the tail is at all times, but when you have such an enormous fish in front of you, sometimes it is difficult to figure out just what part of the shark you are looking at. However, there were times when I was swimming right over it and it seemed no matter which way I scrambled to get along side of it, I always managed to be right over it. And it goes without saying some of us were unintentionally struck by the massive tail fin on this gentle beast.

After four hours of snorkeling, which seemed like only thirty minutes in reality, we headed back to shore for a delicious lunch prepared at a local restaurant. Because of my illness, and my clear disdain for seafood, I opted out of the fish sandwiches before heading back to Legaspi. When I returned back to Legaspi, I discovered I had forgotten to apply sunscreen on my back and was therefore redder than the crabs at lunch. I took a rest that afternoon before going out to dinner at Wei Wei's restaurant- home of Ox Testicle, not Ox Tongue- and then I returned to the hotel to save enough sleep before the next two days which can only be described as the pinnacle of my time in The Philippines.



From your shark-hunting, Butanding interaction traveler of the sleepy town of Donsol, Michael.

Thursday, March 20, 2008

The Children of Santo Domingo

With all debts repaid, and a sense of new beginning in Legaspi, I had to make a go of it. With the day already half over, I didn't want to spend another moment lying in bed. Consulting a local map, I reviewed the nearby attractions to determine which scenic spot would be my next destination. Having never really considered checking out other local towns, I was soon to discover that getting sick and spending a few extra days in Legaspi would allow me to do just that.

When I was very young, the Gulf War lowered airline prices signifi- cantly permitting my family and me to take a vacation to Hawaii. I remember many things on that vacation, including the lava tunnels, the sulfurous fumes, the baby-back ribs, the sparkling oceans, and volcano treks. But what interested me most was Panalu'u's black sand beaches- a normal beach on the big island turned black from the volcanic eruptions over thousands of years. What excitement swelled up in my heart when I learned of another black sand beach no more than 20 minutes outside of Legaspi.

I emerged from the hotel and boarded a Jeepney to the black sand beaches in the tiny town of Santo Domingo. The town lies just north of Legaspi along the eastern coast of Luzon. Virtually unknown to tourists, I was particularly pleased by my journey here. As for the town itself, it's nothing much. A local square, an open-air gymnasium, a central church, and a dominating view of the Mayon Volcano. Petitioning for city-hood by 2010, this town is nothing more than a sleeping babe at the base of a sleeping giant.


Arriving in the town square, I immediately recognized by the faces of the locals that tourists were a rare occurance here. Again, I was welcomed like royalty with glancing smiles, interested stares, passionate high-fives, and welcomed touts from local business owners. However, my main subject here was clear- the black sand beaches. I determined the ocean front was north east of my present location and I began to walk down the neighborhood side streets in search of the sea.

Along the way, I got a glimpse of Filipino life. Beautiful homes mingled in with cement shacks; families resting on their porches; few tricycles bustling about; chickens crossing the road; boats lined up along the side of the street. But the most intriguing aspect of Santo Domingo life was the rice. Walking down the street, I saw dozens of enormous squares of grain baking on the street. There was no rug or tarp on which the grain rested; instead it was right on top of the tar itself. I later asked what this was and someone informed me that they were drying rice to sell. I hope they wash it first!

I finally arrived at the seashore delighted by the cool breeze floating gently against my face. I sat down on the steps and removed my shoes. I put them in my bag and stepped into the warm, black sand. Although the sand was black as night, as I had hoped, I was totally disheartened by the sight before me: the black sand beaches of Santo Domingo were littered with trash. You had to step slowly and carefully so as not to step on one of the many pieces of sharp, broken glass around the beach. What a fine example of a natural treasure spoiled by the adulteration of human laziness.

However, the day was not lost thanks to the Children of Santo Domingo. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught about five children playing in a stream that lead to the ocean. I walked slowly over to them to see what they were doing. Giggling with mischief, they were attempting to do something devilishly over in the water. I was intrigued. I inched closer for a better view. What I got was a very unexpected surprise. The oldest boy, still maybe only nine or ten, emerged from the pack with an enormous crab that had a piece of string wrapped around it like a leash. Insect torture to the extreme, I thought to myself. But I didn't have much time to continue thinking as that boy, with his entourage of crustaceous bandits, started to approach me with the crab. Startled, I began to back away. This only resulted in a quickened pace by the boy. Even- tually, it resulted, if you can imagine the most absurd of scenarios, in a ten year old Filipino boy chasing around a 23 year old American on the black sand beaches of Santo Domingo with a crab tied around a string.



It was all in good fun and eventually, the crab was let back to burrow deep into the sand. Now the children's focus had turned on my digital camera. With limited English, they shouted "Picture", "Picture" and struck a pose. This went on for about fifteen minutes when more children began to see their friends modeling for a foreigner. In the end, I had fifteen children vying for a place on my camera's digital viewfinder.



Their interest in me was not concealed very well. What was my name? Where am I from? Why was I there in Santo Domingo? Do I know all the celebrities in Hollywood? These were some of the typical questions I was asked. I told them I didn't know any celebrities. In fact, the only famous person I had ever met was Steven Spielberg, and I told him, straight to his face, that he was not Steven Spielberg.



These questions, and pictures went on for the next thirty minutes or so before I put on my shoes and we all walked up to the town center together. On our way there, the oldest girl asked me if I had a girlfriend. I told her I did not, which is true, and she had a big smile on her face. She politely informed me that she had a single friend the next town over if I was interested in meeting her. I told her I was flattered by her offer, but unfortunately, I had to get back to Legaspi at this point. We parted ways and I never saw the Children of Santo Domingo again.

When I arrived back in Legaspi, I made a second attempt at eating in the Small Talk cafe. This time, I proved to be successful. I arrived at the restaurant, checked through security, and had a truly tasty ride of traditional Bicol cuisine. After dinner, I boarded another jeepney back to my hotel and went to bed early to rest up for the next day's most exhilirating, and honestly, most terrifying experience I would ever have in my lifetime.


From your black-footed, well-rested, traveling daycare of the Philippines, Michael.