So many islands, such little time: March 2009

Phaidon Beach Resort is situated on a dirt road, 20 minutes away from the nearest town. There are many local homes near by. You notice these by the thatch roof and windows with no glass or screen. They are close together and very small, some only 2 rooms for a family of 5-10. They get their water from a pump that is outside that they share with the neighbors. The chickens, geckos, spiders and rats have free reign on their home at any time. Which they do not seem to mind. Some of the homes have floors but most only dirt. The people are always smiling while they work. Most of them work at their homes, cooking, cleaning, maintenance, usually only one family member is at a paying job, while the rest keep the home going. There are several small shops on the road selling soda, candy, chips, and other basic goods. There is one store we can walk to that has eggs and meat and a few other things but very minimal. Tricycles made from a motorcycle and a box of metal with seats carry the people to town for goods. They load up to 15 people on these, some on the roof, or anywhere they can fit. Or you can wait a bit longer and take a bus for about the same cost, on the bus it takes 10 minutes where the tricycle more like 30. The dirt from the road covers every inch of your body on the journey and chokes your lungs. The people that live and work in this area don’t know any different. Most of them have television so they see a different life but many of the people have never seen the civilization that westerners are so accustomed to. It is all normal to them, and for me as well it is becoming normal. I do not expect the toilets to flush, or to have a seat on them. I don’t expect anything to happen fast or on time. I do not expect to see white people outside of the resort ever.
None of this bothers me any more. It is when I dream or think too much about things I miss that I get upset. I miss my own space, which I can keep clean. I miss a couch to get cozy on. Some nights I dread having to walk outside and 20 feet to the bathroom, but others I am thankful to get to look at the millions of stars on my walk, there and back. They are spectacular.

The main town where we do all of our shopping is called Pandan. The slow movement of the locals is constant. People stop their routine to watch us walk past. White people, especially with blond hair are not common here. There is a main road and a town park. Off to the other side are several churches on the way to the town center, then a basketball court full of happy noises. Across from it an Internet café, were kids pile in at lunchtime to play every electronic game imaginable. They do not have things like computers and x box in their homes so they come here for it. We walk on to the Filipino style-shopping district. There is a large square in the center of the 3 blocks where the market shouts, especially on Mondays and Fridays. Fresh bananas, mango, watermelon, tomatoes, potatoes, and often vegetables I have never heard of before, my favorite to taste. Fresh meat hangs from hooks along 2 rows and the butcher stands waiting for a sale with his bloody knife by his side. The fish vendors sit along the back walls and the smell leads me there. I have an unsettling feeing as I view which of my favorite creatures they have killed this week. Tiny sardines, crabs the size of a quarter, blue spotted rays, and not a single fish bigger than a foot. They lay, dead in the hot sun waiting to be bought and eaten.
On the other end of the square are a couple of stores. One has several large canvas bags of rice flour, chicken feed, and a trash can full of lard. And hanging from the front of the shops small bags of colorful spices, and tiny dried shrimp. The next shop is our main grocery store where we have a few more options, package noodles soup, powder flavoring, tiny bags of chips, cookies, wafers, and candy. Single serving packs of shampoo hang in long strands from the ceiling. We wonder why they sell so many items in single serving, it seems it would cost more, perhaps the money is only available sometimes to buy just one. The shop also has a section of alcohols, one kind of cereal but a whole rack full of raisins.
From there we go on to the next shop with everything from buckets to Barbie’s, sponges, batteries, rugs, pans, toilet paper, speakers and hair barrettes. Walking pasted and outside the square are many bakeries each with 20 different sweets boasting different colors textures and sizes, all tasting the same. A few eateries along the street with stew like dishes displayed in glass cases bring in the locals for their lunch.
Some of the rooms along the road have pool tables and several people packed in watching. There are pharmacies and hardware’s stores. A cart comes by selling fried chicken, even the feet. As we walk back towards the main road to the bus we pass a small trailer for fast food. We each get an asado poa, which is a soft white puff the size of a baseball with meat inside. We continue pass a school four stories high with all the teenagers standing looking over the rails. They wear blue skirts or pants and a nice white shirt and look down at us and encourage our attention. A small wave peaks their excitement with giggles as we walk past. On our way to the bus we hear the sounds of drums in the distance. As they approach we notice a car followed by a small parade of people as a funeral is working its way to the church. Sometime when the child is small the men just carry the casket the whole way.
As we arrive at the bus stop we notice by the influx of children that it is time for lunch. The girls stroll passed holding hands and hiding from the sun under a shared umbrella. We sit on the three metal bars of the bus stop seat and continue to deflect the odd looks and appreciate the smiles. The local drivers try and convince us that the bus has passed and we must pay their fare but we continue to wait. Soon the bus arrives, and speeds us away from Pandan and back to the seclusion of our quiet beach resort. It has been a successful day of shopping and we are ready to enjoy the sunset before cooking dinner and falling into bed. Just another day in remote Filipino life.

Our dive boat