Rain, Rain, Rain

I apologize for the lack of visuals but I suppose it's about time for an update anyway. I am unable to convey the mood that is set by the gray cloudy gloom that I have been experiencing for the past 6-7 days and which is expected to linger for another week or so. I can't convey the feeling, but try to imagine not seeing the sun at all, waking up to rain every other morning, and seeing drizzle scattered throughout the day every day for a week. The gloom dissuades me from being active and naturally hinders optimism. With that in mind, it's difficult for even me to be blind to the little day to day downers. Please allow one post that's not filled with smiles, flowers, butterflies, and kittens.

I work from 8am until about 4pm all seven days of the week. Of course it's not as difficult as doing Physics 7 days a week, but it's not a walk in the park either. That being said, if I'm not working there really is little to do here. I have little urge to go to the shooting range, no desire to visit the discos or hang around prostitutes, and going to the bars to sip coke listening to the same songs over and over while engulfed in a cloud of cigarette smoke gets old pretty quickly.

The dive sites still hold their charm but my requests to explore and search for new sites are always to no avail. The beach holds no refuge as it is completely submerged during high tide and filled with litter and stray dogs during low tide. I continue to visit the same restaurants and cafes every day due to the fact that I've been to nearly every one of them in Sabang. I have been craving a traditional deep-dish pepperoni pizza for over a week but I am forced to cope. The decision to cook for myself leads to difficulties of its own. I lack access to both an oven and microwave so everything that I cook is done over one single gas burner with heavily used cookware. These limitations combined with the lack in grocery selection causes my meals to regularly be at a low standard.

I have yet to find an individual who shares my sense of humor or my has similar interests, interests which exclude both prostitution and binge drinking. Fellow Americans are few and far between, and the few who are under the age of 30 are guaranteed to be here for no more than 5 days. Regardless, the ones I do find often don't relieve my feeling of being an outsider; an American man yesterday insisted that I speak as if I'm from Scandinavia after learning I have residence in Ohio.

My job search is determined to make me go crazy. On one hand it gives me something to do that does not involve going to a bar. On the other hand it is unspeakably discouraging. To date, I've sent out 30 emails to dive resorts in Indonesia (for November through late January) as well as Seychelles, Mauritius, Madagascar, Maldives, Zanzibar, and Reunion Island (for late January until May). The response count is up to 11. 8 responses were negative, 2 are very unlikely, and the other is a freelance opportunity for a location I'm not thrilled about. For every email I send, I dig through the internet for resorts in the regions of interest and scour their website to determine if a) they appear reputable and b) to find something special about the resort that I like. After doing that, I write an email from scratch geared toward the particular resort and why I am interested in working with them specifically. The only redeeming thing about the job search is the realization of my lack of limitations. Assuming I am able to find a job, I can move to any tropical coastal location in the world (well, Cuba might be difficult).

Those who know me will not be surprised to hear me say that within every difficulty there is something to be gained. My appreciation for the amenities of life back home has grown. I am learning to improvise and make due with what is presented to me. Who I am and what I like is becoming more evident as time goes on – I am getting to know myself more. Although there are a lot of great things happening while I'm here and it's nice to focus on those and overlook everything else, there is an important lesson that must not be forgotten. One's level of happiness is a state of mind that is based on experiences. In other words, it's the downs in life that make the ups so much more enjoyable. Put even more simply, life with no struggle is hardly life at all. Because of this, I am content with my discontent and happy to grow from every struggle. In a strange way, even bad days can be good.

Well, I'm off to a bar to hang out for a while before making myself a simple dinner.

Real Dive Instructor

I'm including random pictures just to liven things up a bit. I don't like when I update this blog sans visuals – it gets way too boring.

When I'm not using my computer, experiencing familiarity (of life back home) is quite difficult. The spaghetti sauce is not very good, the pizzas aren't made properly or with normal pepperoni, supermarkets are unheard of, the only form of private transportation is the motorbike, I haven't seen a microwave in nearly a month, I have to flush with a bucket, there are no fields, taking a boat for an hour is the only way to see a mall or fast-food chain, if you order soup from a cafe and ask for it to go then you will get it in a plastic bag, and the the milk has waaaaay too much sugar in it. As a result, it's the little things that give me comfort. It's seeing an American movie on my tv, wearing my Denison hat, finding that quarter in the bottom of my backpack, and discovering there's a place that sells a tiny selection of American candy bars. Life back home is becoming more distant as familiar things are so uncommon.

More often than not, I find myself to be the only American in a given group of people - the only person from all of North and South America for that matter. It's therefore exciting when I can recognize something from the states. It took much longer for this to happen in South Africa since I was surrounded by Americans all the time, but I feel as if my American pride grows when I leave. So often I feel like the American representative being the only one around.

I finally got my Nitrox certification. Once I dive 16 more times on Nitrox and certify 25 students for any level of scuba diving, I'll be able to give Nitrox certifications. Unfortunately, that might take a while. However I'm already on my way.

I finished my very first open water certification on the 31st! My student Sonja is an 18-year-old from Alaska and lucky for me, she was very comfortable underwater and her buoyancy control was great. She loved playing around with the fish and really seemed to have had a great time learning how to dive. Thanks to Sonja I'm off to a great start! It's also nice that I'll be getting about a hundred dollars for certifying her. An entire month of rent!

Renaud is a rescue diver from France learning a bit of technical diving while he's here. He's a really great guy and his birthday was a few days ago. To celebrate, we had a great Mexican group dinner. Excellent food for an excellent guy.

On a dive earlier that day, I accidentally and unknowingly knocked Maria's regulator and mask off causing her to panic. In trying to get a hold of my regulator, she climbed over my back and tried to rip my mask off (keep in mind I had no idea she was missing reg or mask). After about 10 seconds of wrestling, Mark saw what was going on and gave her a regulator and I finally got a chance to clear my mask to see Mark and Maria together moving toward the surface. Renaud and I grabbed her mask and surfaced together. Happy birthday, Renaud.

I've been going through some serious job searches and it's killing me. My afternoons (whenever I'm not diving) are completely taken up by sitting in front of the computer going through dive shop after dive shop, and writing email after email. I start from scratch on each one because I mention how the particular operation looks particularly appealing. So far I've sent out at least 12 emails and my only response has been negative, which is better than no response at all. I've been searching not only for jobs in and around Bali (including Lombok and Komodo Island as well), but also searching for an offer after I leave Indonesia. I will consider any offer from Andaman Islands, Tanzania, Zanzibar, Pemba, Comoros, Maldives, Reunion, Mauritius, Madagascar, and Seychelles (preference in reverse order).

With so many options, I would like to have some sort of concrete communication before buying a plane ticket. I'm afraid that if I don't have any connections before going, I won't be able to find a job. My worries are popping up now because there appears to be a less dense population of dive centers in these locations than are in Philippines and Bali, so if I exhaust my options, I have to buy a ticket to another country to start over. Not only are there fewer dive centers, but they are generally wealthier areas with fancier resorts and more expensive housing so looking around for a job for the first couple weeks I'm there won't be such a bright idea anymore. Plus my French is not at a level of fluency and 5 of those countries have French as a national language.

Speaking of French, there's a really awesome guy who showed up a few days ago named Tomi. He is 22, nearly my height, has long dark scraggly hair, several vintage-style bracelets, a ring, and pan-African colored slippers (this is what the world calls flip flops – they have me doing it too). Anyway he is actually from Montreal and has come to the Philippines to do his divemaster certification before he moves on to Australia. I will probably mention him more because he is a really interesting guy with fewer plans than I have and is a great diving buddy because he has so much fun underwater.

I feel like I should mention something about school starting without me but I'm tired of writing and you're probably excited that the end of the post is in sight. It is weird that classes are starting but I'm so far removed from it right now that I can't fully comprehend it anyway. I hope you enjoyed the random pictures and until next time, don't forget to wear sunscreen.

The Bad, the Good, and the Wonderful

Two nights ago I had perhaps the worst headache of my entire life. With every beat of my heart came a punch in the face right between the eyes. In bed, I tossed and turned all night long finding no escape from the overwhelming pounding in my head. I sent Jay a text around 7am to relay the message that I would be very late.

Thanks to the headache, yesterday marked the very first day that I did not dive since my first day here about two weeks ago. I got to the shop around 11:45 (instead of 8), already missing the first two dives of the day. Mark (if I haven't said so, Mark is the one in charge of the diving here) had me give an equipment refresher to a woman named Bernardine whom hasn't been diving in a long time and felt very nervous. She was incredibly appreciative and even though Jay ended up leading the dive while I stayed on shore, she came back to report that despite her apprehension she had an absolutely wonderful time. While treating me to a spot of tea afterward, I discovered that she is a musician. A few teas later, I found myself being offered a one-time recording opportunity.

She works with a recording studio in Manila and would like me to take a weekend to travel there and spend a few days jamming and recording for her upcoming album. I've already talked to her friend at the studio and he said that he wouldn't have much problem getting a hold of a viola to borrow. I don't know how well known she is and I don't know if she'll give me a single cent but frankly it doesn't matter at all. Being able to play viola, particularly for a recording, is worth a lot to me. As if that wasn't enough good fortune, later last night I was introduced to a father and daughter from Alaska who just arrived in Sabang after a couple days in Manila and the daughter is keen to do her open water scuba certification while she's here. I was originally upset when Mark assigned me to hold down the shop while everyone else spends the morning and early afternoon doing two dives and a barbeque lunch on the beach at Verde Island. However, it may have created precisely the right circumstances to begin my first certification. Mark went over the basic course structure (organization) and is going to let me instruct her course, so the only thing that would ruin it is if she decides not to do the course.

Oh my goodness! I forgot to write about my favorite night since I've arrived in the Philippines! Several days ago I helped lead a Discover Scuba Diving experience with Mermaids dive resort right next door. As I was preparing for it, a friend of mine named Maria invited me to join her and a middle-aged couple for a picnic dinner after I finished. I accepted without thinking twice about it. As I returned to Mermaids 20 minutes after they were supposed to leave for the picnic, I was surprised to see that they (three Filipino guys, the couple, and Maria) were waiting for me in their boat and after throwing my gear in the dive shop and quickly changing into shorts, we departed. The brave little banca (traditional boat) battled the waves like a champ all the way to a small island which was home to a local village. While we sat outside a tiny house chatting and I indulged myself on coconut and some sort of sweet soft oily rice snack, the mosquitoes feasted on me. I kept hearing the voices of concerned friends and family who had asked about vaccines and malaria medication. Hiding my paranoia was impossible so I was thrilled when we got up to move toward our second destination.

Back on the banca, we motored around the island to a secluded beach. As the sun set somewhere on the other side of the mountainous island, we started a fire and the Filipinos proceeded to cook dinner while I stood on the soft sand talking to Maria. Before long, we feasted on delicious stuffed fish, rice, a vegetable dish, and pork. Every bit of it was made in the traditional Filipino style and thus I felt justified in using my fingers as much as I could. Not only was it some of the best food I've had since coming to the Philippines, but it was on a beautiful beach, lending to the natural ambient soundtrack of waves lapping the sand and palm trees rustling in the occasional gentle breeze. Above us, the stars were as plentiful as those found in planetariums. The milky way was easily visible cutting right through the summer triangle, with thousands of stars twinkling over the rest of the sky with what I am guessing was Venus toward the south. Lying on the sand watching shooting stars while talking to Maria for about an hour before taking the banca back to Sabang was the perfect end to an incredible evening. I don't know how likely it is, but I would love to make it happen again sometime soon: it's much better than going to the bars.

Robbie's Guide to Sabang

Many books and internet sites have been devoted to describing tourist destinations around the globe. If they can do it, why shouldn't I? Here is my personal subjective guide to Sabang, significantly shortened based on predicted audience interest (unless you honestly want to waste your time reading about the specific differences between the 20+ dive resorts).

Housing:
Temporary or extended housing can be found throughout Sabang. Although you will find no 5-star luxury resort here, prices run the gamut with quality to match. Small rooms suitable for two can be found in beachfront hotels as low as $10/night or as much as $80/night for an up-scale suite in a fancier resort literally next door.
Monthly-rate housing is scattered around but many are located at the far end of the beach (like mine) away from the lively areas. Standard rooms (no kitchen, no air conditioning) are available as low as $90/month and can run above $200/month for a more spacious and fully-equipped air conditioned apartment. Electricity is generally included and biweekly cleaning services are standard.
(If you do ever come here, stay in Captain Gregg's Resort and tell them that Robbie sent you.)

Food:
Although low prices are common in Sabang, it is easy to stumble into an average-quality resort restaurant to find prices not unlike those in America. As with most tourist destinations, the smaller the restaurant, the cheaper the food. Fish, chicken, and rice are staples in the Philippines, but when ordering any meal with fish, it will almost always be served with the head attached as it is a large source of the fish flavor. Even though it is customary to eat without utensils, many of the dishes are heavy with oil and the paper napkins are half the size and thickness as airline napkins. Look carefully and you will be able to find a full meal for less than $2 but if not, you may find yourself paying quadruple the price for the same quality.

Sites/Activities:
Sabang itself is very small and although it is covered with resorts, the range of activities is not very wide. Diving appears to be the main attraction (you probably think I'm saying that because I'm surrounded by it, but almost every tourist I've met outside of the diving atmosphere is a diver). Other activities include boating (boat rides – no rentals), snorkeling, motorbiking, jet skiing, going to a spa, or relaxing in a resort. At high tide the beach completely disappears while at all other times it is covered with pieces of hard coral and sprinkled with trash. Wade into the water and you will find a field of short sea grass rooted in mud. Also considering that the shallow water is used as a parking lot for boats, tourists rarely come here specifically to swim or relax on the beach.
There are no trails marked for walking, running, or hiking. To do any of these, it is highly advised to go with someone reliable who knows the area. Even if you pay a few dollars for a couple hours, you will not be disappointed; the scenery in and around Sabang is breathtaking. The mountains that make up this region are densely covered in green. There are paths through these jungles (invisible to the untrained eye) that have been walked by local villagers enough that machetes are not necessary. For the less adventuresome, taking to the paved roads eliminates the jungle terrain but adds the inherent danger of sharing the road with motor vehicles. Unless walking along the beach, it is extremely uncommon to find trails lacking steep climbs.

Diving:
Since the Philippines has managed to remain a relatively low-profile diving destination, the dive sites are in wonderful condition. Dive resorts boast that there are about 20 dive sites that can be reached in under 10 minutes. Not only does Sabang offer a large number of dive sites, but it also provides a wide variety of diving suitable for everyone from non-divers to the most experienced technical diver (John Bennett set the world record for the deepest open-circuit scuba dive here in 2001 by descending below 1,000ft). Dive options include wrecks, coral gardens, walls, and drift diving at a wide range of depths. Expect to see crowds of fish, colorful corals, lionfish, nudibranchs, and don't be frightened if you see the occasional sea snake or sting ray. Dives are relatively cheap: single dives are generally under $30, but resorts will work out package deals for multiple dives.

Night Life:
Sabang comes alive when the sun goes down. Different bars cater to different interests such as sports, dancing, pool, and karaoke. Several bars operate 24 hours a day and often have customers the entire time. The other very common type of bar, called girlie bars, are essentially strip clubs. Although prostitution is technically illegal, it is a very common activity in Sabang. Drinking and socializing are expected at night and you don't have to look far to find visitors (or residents) from many different countries.

General Recommendations:
Sabang is a cheap place to stay, has beautiful scenery, pristine diving, friendly people, and very active night life. All things considered however, this is not a family-friendly destination; very few activities are available for young children. It has been said that people in Sabang fall into one or more of the following categories: natives, employees (generally of resorts or bars), divers, or sex tourists.

Catching Up

Here's the deal. If I don't pound out an update now, I will get behind to the extent that it will be a chore to update and motivation will decrease. Therefore I am going to simply tell it how it is. I'll include more pictures than before in order to make up for the dry wording.

I moved into my very first apartment! Well, outside of Denison that is. I live here alone and pay 100% of the rent...all $105 a month anyway. There is no air conditioning, I can't drink the water, only one of the burners on the gas stove works, there are gaps in the screens, the mattress and pillows are excessively firm, laundry fees are through the roof (even compared to the US), not all the lights work, there is no temperature control on the low pressure shower (cold and dribbly), and the toilet flushes with a bucket. However, I have four windows and a fan, there is a sufficient refrigerator, I don't have to pay for electricity, there is a shower and toilet, I have a gas burner along with two pots, a pan, a kettle, a spatula, a knife, a cutting board, a few plates, and one set of utensils, the room gets cleaned every 4 days, the walk to the ocean is about 30 seconds long, the walk to the dive shop is about 6 minutes, the room comes with a few complimentary resident lizards to keep the bug population in check, the bed is a double (big enough for me), and I have about 60 cable channels.

The line between visiting a place and living there is usually drawn at the grocery store. After a couple days in the new place I stocked up on as much food as the local food shop would allow. The selection is awful – not only brands but in a 15ft by 15ft store there is only so much food one is able to buy. Things to note: eggs are sold individually, sans carton. When you purchase one, they put it in a little plastic bag. Some (hopefully only the non-food products) such as ziploc bags are taped up as if they've already been opened. The milk here has about 5 times too much sugar. Filipinos apparently don't like green peppers. Shopping at only one store is nearly impossible – you need to go to three different stores to get produce, meat, and anything sold in cans/boxes/jars. Gas burners cook food in about a tenth of the time it takes to cook on an electric stove. No matter how long I live here and how many groceries I buy, I will never be able to walk from my apartment to the dive shop without being offered a boat ride, motorbike, or massage.

There is a thing called Hash House Harriers. Look it up if you're particularly curious (tell me what it says because I've not looked it up). I don't really know the story behind it, but to me it is effectively a running/hiking club. Every Saturday a group of locals (surprisingly only white non-native residents) gathers at the same place. By about 3:30 the group either starts there or it takes a jeepney to the starting point. For no less than 30 minutes, participants choose to either take the walking or running course through dense jungles, rural farming houses, and short stretches of sandy beach. After quite a workout, the course finishes at a bar where more socializing goes down. I don't feel like trying to describe the beauty that I saw while on the run, so I'll just let a few photos do the talking. It's very unfair to ask them to do that however because they capture only a tiny peek at what I see.

Under the Sea

The friendly Friday sunrise washed away the gloom that had been polluting the Filipino sky for days and with it came the promise of incredible diving. I was surprised when Mark offered me a tank for the dive that was launching that morning; nothing had been set up in advance and we hardly talked about diving the night before. My overwhelming child-like enthusiasm broke loose for a brief moment when I agreed to go on the dive and began gathering my gear. Being my first dive in the Philippines, I had no idea what to expect.

When I first hit the warm water and began looking around, my hopes were very quickly deflated; all I could see was blue. We gradually descended and through the dark blue I began to make out shapes. A large rock took form, then an enormous sea fan, another rock covered in coral, then a school of fish. Suddenly I found myself in the middle of a flourishing aquatic world full of life and color.

Small prairies of soft pink corals swayed lazily back and forth. Bright yellow and white fish surrounded me with wide eyes making them appear to wonder what sort of creature I could be. I was so focused on a little nudibranch glowing with yellow and blue nestled between masses of gorgeous feather stars that I nearly drifted directly into a sea fan wider than myself. The large rocks rising from the gradually sloping wall boasted a vibrant parade alive with colors and shapes I could never have imagined. Every inch of the wall was home to some creature or another; not a single vacant crack or crevice could be found. Gliding through the water and hovering motionless inches from the corals, I floated through the watery world as freely and gracefully as a ghost though as inconspicuously as a monster truck in a bumper car arena. Leaving the wonderland was disappointing but the ride back was nearly as beautiful.

During the few minutes’ ride back to the dive shop, the boat passes by the coastline that now defines the Philippines for me. The hills that rise out of the water transform from beautiful reefs beneath the surface to vibrant palm tree forests above it; hardly any land can be seen through the dense tree coverage. The contours of the jagged green coastline make it no surprise that the Philippines ranks 5th in countries with the longest coastline (despite its small area). Back in the dive shop I rinsed off my gear and prepared for the next dive. This is why I moved to the other side of the globe. This is what I love. This is the life.

Coming Up for Air

My stomach was ultimately the culprit that cut my relaxation short. I appeased the hunger by ordering some chicken adobo over rice. Before the food arrived I was invited by a plump friendly German fellow to share a drink with him. Throughout the course of the evening I ended up meeting several people who work at the dive resort. Among them was Mark Cox, a Welsh tech diver whom served with the British Armed Forces and worked as a bodyguard for notable celebrities such as Kevin Costner (I must reiterate how incredible Dances With Wolves is: utterly brilliant). Needless to say he has a menacing physique which is why I was overcome with relief when he deemed me an "intelligent American" after passing his simple test of naming the capital cities of the UK (aside from Wales). After the meal I struggled to keep my eyes open as I prepared for bed. Through the exhaustion, I felt a faint but very distinct sense of satisfaction having made it all the way to Sabang and meeting several great people along the way. As I desperately tried to fall asleep in the boiling room cooled only by a single fan, I knew that countless adventures laid before me. I didn't have a clue what they might be, but I knew without a doubt that the stepping stone I was currently resting on represented the beginning of my nomadic year to come.

Sabang at Last

I was very tense as I watched one of Bong's friends carry my backpack with my dive computer, my laptop, and my camera against my better judgment. I was watching him like a hawk as we pushed our way through the crowds unsure of what I would do in my overheated exhausted state if he were to bolt. We finally made our way to the friend's car and after stuffing my bags in the back were forced to jam 4 people in three seats in the back. Along the way I told stories of life back home while we feasted upon fruit that Bong bought at a roadside market. I was concerned for only a moment when I saw the fruit stand crawling with ants but then remembered the phrase “when in Rome…” and proceeded without second thoughts. Though packed like sardines in the back seat of a vehicle pitching back and forth, we managed to share plenty of laughs. All the while I couldn’t keep myself from glancing out the windows and commenting on the beautiful landscapes. As far as my eyes could see there was green until it met the overcast sky. I saw fields, forests, jungles, and everything in between. If the Philippines has an excess of any one thing, it’s palm trees.

As much as I enjoyed the scenery and company, eventually the car rolled to a stop at which point I was to take a jeepney (I’ll talk about them at some point later) to Sabang while they continued. We said our goodbyes and I hopped into the back of the jeepney that would quickly fill beyond capacity before dropping me off near my resort. Stepping onto the streets of Sabang for the first time and my first impression was one of utter confusion. Without knowing where I was going I allowed a local to take one of my bags and show me the way and boy was I glad I did. I followed him a hundred yards down a narrow street (which I later learn is the main road) lined with wall to wall stores set just behind a sidewalk that blended right into the road on either side. He made a left turn and we walked carefully avoiding the puddles down an alley with smaller stores and food stands. Several twists and a few turns later I followed him up the stairs to the smiling faces of Captain Gregg’s Dive Resort that led me to my room shown here.

The moment I was alone, I closed my door and let the bed catch me as I fell in a swirl of exhaustion and relief. Finally in a bed, I was able to completely drop my guard and catch a refreshing and much needed breath of air. The relaxation did not last very long, but it was precisely what I needed.

Sink or Swim

The first two nights in Manila (capital of Philippines) were made spectacular by the Fajardo family. I owe them big time when I come back through there on my way out to Bali (or if I take a weekend visit to Manila). Their hospitality was more than I could have asked for.

Manila to Sabang: the epic journey.
I pulled into the bus station and squeeeeezed onto the bus like a Sherpa with a huge bag on my back, an enormous duffel in one hand and my full backpack in the other. Picture an elephant trying to mingle with gazelles. No one seemed to be too concerned about me, but the looks I got were unmistakable: genuine surprise and disbelief. I made my way to the back and assumed the position of the lonely traveler pensively gazing out the window as a real-time slideshow of a land unknown unfolded before his eyes. Before long my thoughts were interrupted by a 60-year old retired Filipino military sniper who called himself Adorico. Through a very thick accent spoken from a mouth lacking several key front teeth, I learned about malls, factories, military, and his current trade: real estate. Nearly an hour went by before my new companion kindly motioned to the exit, shook my hand, wished me the best, and left me alone to wonder weather the rest of the country was equally friendly.

Sinking back into my position by the window imagining what experiences lie ahead, images of trees, villages, stores, fields, shacks, cars, and people flashed past. Every turn of the wheels marked the farthest from home I had ever been. Like a child making his first jump from a diving board, peering over his unstable toes at the water far below, I wondered if this was really what I wanted to do. Will I be able to find a job? Will I make any friends? What if I get robbed? Will there be any places to live? What do I do if no one will hire me? These ringing questions turned into faint echos as the bus rolled to a stop in Bantangas Pier at which point I needed my mind to be as sharp and focused as possible.

Off the bus I was met with suspiciously friendly people whom had evidently been waiting in Batangas all day long for me to arrive so they could bend over backwards to carry my bags, lead me straight to the ticket booth, and practically hold my hand all the way to the ferry. I may be trusting but I'm no fool. After fighting a few of them off I followed everyone else conveniently to the ticket office. I was in for an unfortunate surprise; the waters were too rough for the ferry straight to Puerto Galera so I had to book a seat on the ferry to Calapan a couple hours later. By the time I picked a seat on the ferry I had walked at least half of a mile while climbing 4 flights of stairs schlepping a full suitcase on my back, a loaded duffel in one hand (each one 50-60lbs), and a bulging backpack in the other. My arms were on fire from straining to keep everything together and sweat was pouring from my face. I was able to make it all the way not by physical endurance but by adrenaline and the realization that if I didn't make it to that ferry then I would be stuck in Batangas with no one to turn to for help.

The man next to me talked to me for a while along the way. He turned out to teach English and was very interested in American education and economics. However I got a weird vibe from him and declined his offer to swap phone numbers. I made eye contact with another passenger about my age and when he hung up his phone he sat down to chat. I reminded myself to be cautious around strangers but couldn't help feeling comforted by his friendliness and seemingly genuine character. I got his number and then Bong introduced me to his three friends he was traveling with. As the ferry pulled into port, he told me that my destination (Sabang) was along the way to the place they were staying and that a buddy of theirs was going to pick them up. I cautiously agreed to travel with them and a new adventure began.

WOW.

And I'm not talking about World of Warcraft.

Let's establish a few basic things:

Am I here? Yes. I'm on my bed in Puerto Galera, more or less my final destination.
Are there difficulties? Yes.
Was Manila crazy? No, thanks to the Fajardo family. They seriously saved me in Manila. The hospitality and friendliness they showed surpassed any 5-star hotel.
Is it wet? Every day the sky is covered with clouds. I have yet to see a single patch of blue sky.
Is it beautiful? It is remarkably gorgeous here, particularly in Mindoro.
Am I going through culture shock? Yes.
Am I tired? I'm exhausted.
Are there any other white people there? Hardly. I see maybe 2-5 per day.
Is the food good? It is, but you don't want to know what it is.
Am I in over my head? You bet I am. I would classify this as "way over my head."
Is it fun? Well, in my twisted sense of the word, yes. I suppose I am having fun.

I have a zillion things to say but I don't know how. It pains me that not matter how hard I try, my linguistic skills will not be able to convey my experience. Sure I will try, but I'm a little bit on overload right now. Leaving the comfort of the Fajardo house and stepping out completely on my own going to Puerto Galera was like stepping into another world. Details will come, maybe after dinner and a cold shower before I go to bed. I'll see what I can do. As for now, just know that at this very moment I am very much out of my comfort zone and the internet is the only thing that's familiar.