The pictures don't go with the story at all, but they're good visuals. The first one is the view from my usual spot with an unusually few amount of people around. The second is what I see a few steps away from my spot by the railing that is directly above the beach. On with the update.
A couple days ago Mark had a few friends arrive from Australia. When I caught wind of his plan to take them golfing, I expressed enough interest to earn me an invitation to go with the three of them (and in doing so forfeit going to a new dive site).
I discovered later that due to the water conditions, the divers made it to the dive site and sat on the boat for a few minutes before deciding to turn back to shore. While they were doing that, I was having a much different experience.
Thirty minutes of winding along the bumpy mountain roads landed our jeepney high up the mountain. We bounced our way up the one-lane road leading to Ponderosa, the only golf course within driving distance. When we climbed out the jeepney's open back door, there was a mutual agreement that the conditions were too wet and rainy to follow through with the original plan. Instead I found myself sipping a mango shake sheltered from the rain talking to the 94 year-old owner with Mark and his two friends. This spot was gorgeous in the haze and I can only imagine its stunning beauty during favorable weather conditions. After a short stroll to the first tee, I was looking out over 50 yards of a steep hill covered with dense short growth leading to a short fairway (decorated intentionally with a small water hazard) and after a small patch of more thick ground cover, the green. The entire hole from tee-off to green was surrounded by jungle. I estimated that I would need at least 18 balls to complete the course. I insisted that Mark bring me back when the weather takes a turn for the best.
Making our way back to the jeepney, we agreed to take a detour to get some good Italian food on our way home. The road was much more treacherous on this leg of the journey. I gazed out the window at the magnificent mountains as the jeepney bounced along the ill-paved road,
careening around every sharp turn. Pavement turned to mud and before long I realized roosters were jumping out of the way as we went splashing through massive puddles. At long last, the trusty jeepney came to a full stop, cuing our exit. We arrived at a deserted restaurant and my stomach demanded I order something substantial. As we were waiting for the pizza, I nearly lost my appetite when a small gentle yet frail stray dog came to our table. When she sat down under the table to rest, I noticed a massive open wound or growth on her underside. It was about the size of a racquetball and red in color where the dirt and sand hadn't yet covered it. I thought immediately of my open scabs all over my legs and made a point to keep them as far from this poor friendly dog as possible. When the food finally came, my mind worked hard to forget the stray under the table and also overlook the fact that I don't like ham or mushrooms. I inhaled my share of the delicious true Italian-style pizza and turned my seat around to look at the water beneath the gloomy sky realizing that an ugly day in the Philippines is still a gorgeous day in my book.
On the way back to the dive resort, my focus was drawn beyond the back door of the jeepney. I fell into a hypnotic state hanging onto a cool metal bar and staring out the open door. It seemed as if an hour passed as I watched miles of dirt paths, bumpy paved roads, and puddles constantly swerve and shrink away into the distance while far-off hazy mountains swung into and out of my view, slowly fading into the clouds. After seeing the world shrink away for so long, I felt like I was in some dreamland where everything in my sight was slowly inching toward me when I finally stepped off the moving vehicle. Walking back to the resort with a bit of a sway to my step and arms raised several inches higher than usual, I realized that even though the weather did not cooperate and I didn't get to go diving, I had an incredible time being out.
A couple days ago Mark had a few friends arrive from Australia. When I caught wind of his plan to take them golfing, I expressed enough interest to earn me an invitation to go with the three of them (and in doing so forfeit going to a new dive site).
I discovered later that due to the water conditions, the divers made it to the dive site and sat on the boat for a few minutes before deciding to turn back to shore. While they were doing that, I was having a much different experience.
Thirty minutes of winding along the bumpy mountain roads landed our jeepney high up the mountain. We bounced our way up the one-lane road leading to Ponderosa, the only golf course within driving distance. When we climbed out the jeepney's open back door, there was a mutual agreement that the conditions were too wet and rainy to follow through with the original plan. Instead I found myself sipping a mango shake sheltered from the rain talking to the 94 year-old owner with Mark and his two friends. This spot was gorgeous in the haze and I can only imagine its stunning beauty during favorable weather conditions. After a short stroll to the first tee, I was looking out over 50 yards of a steep hill covered with dense short growth leading to a short fairway (decorated intentionally with a small water hazard) and after a small patch of more thick ground cover, the green. The entire hole from tee-off to green was surrounded by jungle. I estimated that I would need at least 18 balls to complete the course. I insisted that Mark bring me back when the weather takes a turn for the best.
Making our way back to the jeepney, we agreed to take a detour to get some good Italian food on our way home. The road was much more treacherous on this leg of the journey. I gazed out the window at the magnificent mountains as the jeepney bounced along the ill-paved road,
careening around every sharp turn. Pavement turned to mud and before long I realized roosters were jumping out of the way as we went splashing through massive puddles. At long last, the trusty jeepney came to a full stop, cuing our exit. We arrived at a deserted restaurant and my stomach demanded I order something substantial. As we were waiting for the pizza, I nearly lost my appetite when a small gentle yet frail stray dog came to our table. When she sat down under the table to rest, I noticed a massive open wound or growth on her underside. It was about the size of a racquetball and red in color where the dirt and sand hadn't yet covered it. I thought immediately of my open scabs all over my legs and made a point to keep them as far from this poor friendly dog as possible. When the food finally came, my mind worked hard to forget the stray under the table and also overlook the fact that I don't like ham or mushrooms. I inhaled my share of the delicious true Italian-style pizza and turned my seat around to look at the water beneath the gloomy sky realizing that an ugly day in the Philippines is still a gorgeous day in my book.On the way back to the dive resort, my focus was drawn beyond the back door of the jeepney. I fell into a hypnotic state hanging onto a cool metal bar and staring out the open door. It seemed as if an hour passed as I watched miles of dirt paths, bumpy paved roads, and puddles constantly swerve and shrink away into the distance while far-off hazy mountains swung into and out of my view, slowly fading into the clouds. After seeing the world shrink away for so long, I felt like I was in some dreamland where everything in my sight was slowly inching toward me when I finally stepped off the moving vehicle. Walking back to the resort with a bit of a sway to my step and arms raised several inches higher than usual, I realized that even though the weather did not cooperate and I didn't get to go diving, I had an incredible time being out.
