The Philippines (1) : Travel problems and flying fish.
An early morning flight out of Hong Kong en route for Panglao Island in the Philippines with my son,Tom.Tom impresses me with the ease of access to Hong Kong International Airport from the city centre but I suspect he is also trying to allay the worries which always beset me before flying out somewhere new. I'm new to this game.Previously, long haul flights were associated with family holidays.This is different. Tom is used to this constant 'déplacement', he flies regularly all over Asia and the rest of the world. It's not a fear of flying, more an anxiety about getting to the airport and being checked in on time.I'm the kind of individual who gets to the departure lounge at least an hour and a half before boarding begins.
Fortunately, it is easy.We check in our luggage at the city check-in and take the MTR direct to the airport.The journey is relaxing and pleasant and so we arrive at the airport feeling pretty chilled out.All goes well until we approach the security check.An officious young lady spots my travel fishing rod case and asks, 'A picture?' I reply, smiling 'No, just a fishing rod in six short pieces.'. It appears that she suspects the case is too long for hand luggage even though it's less than a metre in length and is shorter than some passengers' hold-alls. I return to check- in and eventually manage to check it into the hold but by the time I get back to passport and security check, it's getting perilously close to boarding time. I'm lecturing Tom on the importance of giving yourself a reasonable time margin to accommodate difficulties such as this.
Hong Kong International is immense and it's a bit of a sprint along the seemingly endless motorised walkways towards the distant boarding gate and the Philippines Airlines flight to Manilla.
The flight leaves on time, is pleasant and we are served immediately with a breakfast of poached milkfish, scrambled egg, mushrooms and rice (this clearly isn't Ryanair!) and we touch down smoothly in Manilla,on time, one hour and thirty minutes later.
It's very hot and humid,quite different from from the current cool humidity of Hong Kong as we exit Arrivals and head into the transit lounge. And then another glitch,Security now decides my 20HK$ mini-brolly, bought in case of tropical rainstorms,constitutes a security threat and must also join my fishing rod case in the hold .Tom volunteers to return to check-in with the offending article.No worries, we have a hour before our connecting flight to Cebu.He returns and we we get a beer and relax. Another learning curve.I won't forget this for the forthcoming trip to Central America. All the fishing gear goes into the cargo hold from the outset or,more drastically, I don't take any and buy or hire it when get there.I bet Hemingway never had this problem. The connecting flight to Cebu is thirty minutes late but that's O.K., we have another cold beer and once in the air the views we get as we fly over island after island, atoll after atoll is enchanting.
We have to take a boat from Cebu to Bohol Island and when we land we have 45 minutes only to cross the city to the dock from where the catamaran leaves.We have to pick up some Philippino pesos before we leave the airport because our Rough Guide informs us that there isn't an ATM on Panglao Island, our final destination. The Travel Gremlin strikes again! The ATM at Arrivals doesn't seem to have any money in it. We have some spare pesos and can stop off in Tagbilaran, the capital of Bohol before we reach Panglao. Priority, get a taxi and get to the dock in time.
Tom flags one down and gets in, he's travelling light and hops into the back seat with his little backpack. I go around to the opposite door to put my backpack and rod case on the back seat between us. As I'm doing this,the driver, apparently unaware that I haven't yet got into his taxi and not looking back to check, suddenly pulls away and runs over my foot with his rear wheel! It's got to be broken if not crushed but no, luckily there's no harm done except for an aching right foot.
We drive off, the driver mumbling apologies and me clutching my foot.The Cebu traffic is horrendous. Motorcyclists,cars,lorries and 'jeepnies' career around all seemingly being driven in opposite directions.I joke with Tom about the lack of health and safety in the Philippines as we pass lorries with up to ten people hanging off them.It helps to dissipate the tension we are both feeling as the minutes tick by .Our mood however becomes less flippant as we approach the docks and we pass by a shanty town with people living in empty containers and shacks built of corrugated zinc and cardboard. Dirty, poorly clad children play on the roadside,only feet away from the heavy traffic. The poverty hits hard, this is the first third world country I have ever been in. Tom insists I refer to it as ' a developing country'. That implies I suppose that there is hope that the Philippines will eventually join the ranks of other developing nations in the region.
Eventually, we get to Pier 1 and the ticket office.There are scores of people queuing for tickets and after what seems like an eternity we get ours we head down the gangway. The catamaran is heaving with people going to or returning to Bohol. Our destination is Tagbilaran, the capital of Bohol and it takes another 2hours to get there across a sea as blue as ink and with flying fish following in the wake of our boat.Before we leave
a recorded prayer is broadcast over the public address system, the Philippinos are a very devout people whatever their religious persuasion.I don't personally find it very reassuring as memories of previous ferry disasters spring to mind.
It's so hot and stuffy in the cabin as the heat and the humidity increase.They are also playing a sentimental American movie on the big central screen and so I wander outside to the stern deck where several men are standing smoking.There's an English guy from Sussex who's a diver and touring the islands after losing his job in the U.K. and like me, is trying to escape a depressing European winter. He tells me he is intending to return to dive on Panglao in a few weeks' time but is going on to a more distant island first.
In the tropical dusk and with the sky turning a fiery red as the sun sets we arrive in Tagbilaran which we discover is much smaller than Cebu.In fact it's quite a small town on the western edge of Bohol Island and just across the inlet from Panglao and our resort.
The journey has been long and eventful and sometimes frustrating but I had been warned by friends in Hong Kong that this is often the case.Across the water, Panglao looks jungley and mysterious and can't wait to get there.
We are picked up at the pier by Yves, a Swiss ex-pat and the owner of the Cliffview Resort at Tagnan on Panglao where we're going to spend the next week.Yves has spent the last fifty years,on and off, in S.E Asia and has worked as a war correspondent during the Vietnam War and the Khmer Rouge era in Cambodia, a restaurant chain owner and a hotelier.In his current existence he has married a Philippino lady and has two small children in his autumn years.He's built a paradise in Panglao and has constructed seven or eight bungalows of bamboo and palm thatch on the ocean's edge with sublime views across straits to Cebu on the horizon. Coconut palms, banana plants and frangipani trees adorn the grounds of his resort and shade the bungalows from the hot sun.
We are served dinner on the veranda of his longhouse which overlooks the sea.There are several other guests and we meet Steve and Tania, EFL teachers from Taiwan and intrepid travellers.We swap travel stories and experiences as the humid tropical darkness envelopes us.The only lights we can see come from the fishing boats out in the straits.
Finally it's time to get our heads down but before, Tom makes me check under our beds for snakes and spiders.It becomes a nightly ritual during our stay.
An early morning flight out of Hong Kong en route for Panglao Island in the Philippines with my son,Tom.Tom impresses me with the ease of access to Hong Kong International Airport from the city centre but I suspect he is also trying to allay the worries which always beset me before flying out somewhere new. I'm new to this game.Previously, long haul flights were associated with family holidays.This is different. Tom is used to this constant 'déplacement', he flies regularly all over Asia and the rest of the world. It's not a fear of flying, more an anxiety about getting to the airport and being checked in on time.I'm the kind of individual who gets to the departure lounge at least an hour and a half before boarding begins.
Fortunately, it is easy.We check in our luggage at the city check-in and take the MTR direct to the airport.The journey is relaxing and pleasant and so we arrive at the airport feeling pretty chilled out.All goes well until we approach the security check.An officious young lady spots my travel fishing rod case and asks, 'A picture?' I reply, smiling 'No, just a fishing rod in six short pieces.'. It appears that she suspects the case is too long for hand luggage even though it's less than a metre in length and is shorter than some passengers' hold-alls. I return to check- in and eventually manage to check it into the hold but by the time I get back to passport and security check, it's getting perilously close to boarding time. I'm lecturing Tom on the importance of giving yourself a reasonable time margin to accommodate difficulties such as this.
Hong Kong International is immense and it's a bit of a sprint along the seemingly endless motorised walkways towards the distant boarding gate and the Philippines Airlines flight to Manilla.
The flight leaves on time, is pleasant and we are served immediately with a breakfast of poached milkfish, scrambled egg, mushrooms and rice (this clearly isn't Ryanair!) and we touch down smoothly in Manilla,on time, one hour and thirty minutes later.
It's very hot and humid,quite different from from the current cool humidity of Hong Kong as we exit Arrivals and head into the transit lounge. And then another glitch,Security now decides my 20HK$ mini-brolly, bought in case of tropical rainstorms,constitutes a security threat and must also join my fishing rod case in the hold .Tom volunteers to return to check-in with the offending article.No worries, we have a hour before our connecting flight to Cebu.He returns and we we get a beer and relax. Another learning curve.I won't forget this for the forthcoming trip to Central America. All the fishing gear goes into the cargo hold from the outset or,more drastically, I don't take any and buy or hire it when get there.I bet Hemingway never had this problem. The connecting flight to Cebu is thirty minutes late but that's O.K., we have another cold beer and once in the air the views we get as we fly over island after island, atoll after atoll is enchanting.
We have to take a boat from Cebu to Bohol Island and when we land we have 45 minutes only to cross the city to the dock from where the catamaran leaves.We have to pick up some Philippino pesos before we leave the airport because our Rough Guide informs us that there isn't an ATM on Panglao Island, our final destination. The Travel Gremlin strikes again! The ATM at Arrivals doesn't seem to have any money in it. We have some spare pesos and can stop off in Tagbilaran, the capital of Bohol before we reach Panglao. Priority, get a taxi and get to the dock in time.
Tom flags one down and gets in, he's travelling light and hops into the back seat with his little backpack. I go around to the opposite door to put my backpack and rod case on the back seat between us. As I'm doing this,the driver, apparently unaware that I haven't yet got into his taxi and not looking back to check, suddenly pulls away and runs over my foot with his rear wheel! It's got to be broken if not crushed but no, luckily there's no harm done except for an aching right foot.
We drive off, the driver mumbling apologies and me clutching my foot.The Cebu traffic is horrendous. Motorcyclists,cars,lorries and 'jeepnies' career around all seemingly being driven in opposite directions.I joke with Tom about the lack of health and safety in the Philippines as we pass lorries with up to ten people hanging off them.It helps to dissipate the tension we are both feeling as the minutes tick by .Our mood however becomes less flippant as we approach the docks and we pass by a shanty town with people living in empty containers and shacks built of corrugated zinc and cardboard. Dirty, poorly clad children play on the roadside,only feet away from the heavy traffic. The poverty hits hard, this is the first third world country I have ever been in. Tom insists I refer to it as ' a developing country'. That implies I suppose that there is hope that the Philippines will eventually join the ranks of other developing nations in the region.
Eventually, we get to Pier 1 and the ticket office.There are scores of people queuing for tickets and after what seems like an eternity we get ours we head down the gangway. The catamaran is heaving with people going to or returning to Bohol. Our destination is Tagbilaran, the capital of Bohol and it takes another 2hours to get there across a sea as blue as ink and with flying fish following in the wake of our boat.Before we leave
a recorded prayer is broadcast over the public address system, the Philippinos are a very devout people whatever their religious persuasion.I don't personally find it very reassuring as memories of previous ferry disasters spring to mind.
It's so hot and stuffy in the cabin as the heat and the humidity increase.They are also playing a sentimental American movie on the big central screen and so I wander outside to the stern deck where several men are standing smoking.There's an English guy from Sussex who's a diver and touring the islands after losing his job in the U.K. and like me, is trying to escape a depressing European winter. He tells me he is intending to return to dive on Panglao in a few weeks' time but is going on to a more distant island first.
In the tropical dusk and with the sky turning a fiery red as the sun sets we arrive in Tagbilaran which we discover is much smaller than Cebu.In fact it's quite a small town on the western edge of Bohol Island and just across the inlet from Panglao and our resort.
The journey has been long and eventful and sometimes frustrating but I had been warned by friends in Hong Kong that this is often the case.Across the water, Panglao looks jungley and mysterious and can't wait to get there.
We are picked up at the pier by Yves, a Swiss ex-pat and the owner of the Cliffview Resort at Tagnan on Panglao where we're going to spend the next week.Yves has spent the last fifty years,on and off, in S.E Asia and has worked as a war correspondent during the Vietnam War and the Khmer Rouge era in Cambodia, a restaurant chain owner and a hotelier.In his current existence he has married a Philippino lady and has two small children in his autumn years.He's built a paradise in Panglao and has constructed seven or eight bungalows of bamboo and palm thatch on the ocean's edge with sublime views across straits to Cebu on the horizon. Coconut palms, banana plants and frangipani trees adorn the grounds of his resort and shade the bungalows from the hot sun.
We are served dinner on the veranda of his longhouse which overlooks the sea.There are several other guests and we meet Steve and Tania, EFL teachers from Taiwan and intrepid travellers.We swap travel stories and experiences as the humid tropical darkness envelopes us.The only lights we can see come from the fishing boats out in the straits.
Finally it's time to get our heads down but before, Tom makes me check under our beds for snakes and spiders.It becomes a nightly ritual during our stay.
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