Like Smoke

Last weekend, the Boholano-Americans took a little trip to the coastal community of Maribojoc to see where Todd works and visit the nearby town of Antequera and the waterfalls for which it is know.

"Mag-aso", in Cebuano, means "like smoke". The mist rising from the falls is what gives them their smokey name, and they are a great spot for picnicking, swimming, cliff jumping, and spying tiny native frogs.

Hello beautiful

Killing time waiting for a ride

Rice fields in Antequera

New friend!

Someone call the department of environment and natural resources...

The road to Mag-Aso

Mag-Aso Falls

PB&J on whole wheat. Oh yes we did!

Todd's latest care package makes a lunchtime appearance

I spy Jessica and Kate...

Sweet little frog who let me get very, very close to take a picture

After jumping and playing and picnicking, Todd and I explored the river above the falls

In all its jungle beauty

The Swimming Lesson

Last Saturday I woke early to hike a couple kilometers down the road and meet my supervisor for her first ever swimming lesson. She is 57 years old, though has the energy of a much younger woman, and grew up with what she calls "very protective parents". Her parents completely discouraged going into the sea, what they thought of as a dynamic, dangerous place full of sharks and rip currents. Many Filipinos, even fisherfolk, can't swim, and fear of drowning is a prevalent phobia on the archipelago. When my supervisor asked when I first learned to swim, I told her my first lessons started when I was two months old. She was shocked, but I explained that I also had protective parents, the difference being that my parents thought the ocean - and ubiquitous backyard swimming pools of San Diego - were significantly less dangerous when you at least knew how to float, move, and get out.

This particular swimming lesson was at the behest of my Peace Corps regional manager, because the training sessions my supervisor and I are attending next month include a good deal of field work, and for CRM volunteers, the "field" is the ocean. After an hour in and out of the water, we had her successfully dog paddling and treading water, but her comfort level is still low and she still feels the need to be able to put her foot on something as soon as she needs a rest, resulting in several panicked grabs at my arm before she could take a calm breath. I think arm floaties and a little inner tube might be in order for her to really enjoy the coral gardening lessons next month. We shall see.

Before heading down to the beach she showed me their family rice field (just a small plot of all the land you see behind her) and I took this picture. The field has been recently harvested and replanted with watermelon, still in their infancy. I had a lot of questions, and learned that the field is planted with rice twice a year, which takes 115 days to mature (the watermelon takes 60). With the amount of rice generated from that small plot, the family never has to buy rice, and had enough left over to donate to local students.

She insisted on taking a photo in return, so here I am, in all my6:30am, androgynous glory.

Her husband hard at work, bringing water from the canal to the baby melons.

The post-swim breakfast prepared by the 21 year old daughter. Rice (from the field above), whole fish, pancit, prawns, ginimous, and a fish head leftover from dinner. The bread was brought for the foreigner (me), and the oranges and peanuts were my contribution.

With the family. Note the hight discrepancy that often leaves me with a bumped head and bruised elbows.

An interestingly colored urchin shell, found after some beach exploring.

And my new friend, looking very much like a pebble.

Well hello there!

Hinundayan

Hooray! Another island to add to the list!

Last weekend I had the wonderful opportunity to visit Southern Leyte on work-related travel. My friend Sarah's site, Hinundayan, is roughly the same size, population, and income level as Lila, but it really couldn't be more different. Though Bohol and Leyte are neighboring islands it actually takes some serious travel time to get there. From Lila, I caught a 5am bus to Ubay on the northeast coast of Bohol, 2.5 hours away. Then a 2.5 hour boat ride on the "Mother Mary" to Bato, Leyte. Then an hour jeepney ride to Sogod (on Sogod Bay, of whale shark and diving fame), and a final 2.5 hour ride to Hinundayan, where around 3pm I spilled off the bus into the arms of two lovely, well-tanned girls - my barkada, reunited at last!

The view out the window of the bus from Sogod

A barkada breakfast: Egg sandwiches and Starbucks VIA

It is easy to find things to be impressed by in Hinundayan. The laid-back, friendly atmosphere, charming plaza, and crash of Pacific waves are among them, but more impressive still is this small town's enthusiasm for CRM. Two fish sanctuaries of staggering size are points of pride, and have management programs to match. Sarah, whose adorable, mosaic-floored nipa hut on the sea added much to my adoration of the place, is clearly in heaven. Her office has welcomed her expertise and boundless energy with open arms, and she has made herself a valuable member of the team.

After a couple CRM-related meetings, which I found remarkably inspiring, we spent a day celebrating Sarah's birthday at a tiny hidden beach reachable only by boat. Tropical paradise, really. We sat there, dripping with salt water, listening to the Pacific crash over tumbling coral stones, drinking fresh coconuts and having a picnic lunch spread out on banana leaves. Typing this out now it seems almost funny - but here these things have become pleasantly commonplace. Almost. After lunch we scrambled a good distance over sharp, jutting igneous rocks (not a single one of us making it there unscathed) to a tall jumping rock, and spent the afternoon flinging ourselves into the perfectly cliched turquoise sea below. A very pleasant day.

Birthday beach

Banana leaf lunch

Happy hikers, if a bit bruised and scraped.

Thaaaar she goes!

Something about the whole nature of Southern Leyte attracted me. It is remote, to be sure, but the terrain is inviting. Everything felt somehow drier there, more spacious and energetic. Where Bohol is home to thick, dripping jungle, Leyte's native vegetation felt to me more like forest. Oddly, mention the word "Leyte" or better yet, "Southern Leyte" to a Filipino on Bohol or Negros, and you're likely to be met by a scowl or expression of concern. Here, Leyte's remoteness is seen as unappealingly rough. When Sarah first heard she was being sent to Leyte, our host families reacted with pity. This wasn't particularly comforting, but now it's just plain confusing. Leyte is lovely. My suspicion is that many Filipinos don't see it that way though because to them, remote and underdeveloped are negative things. The general opinion seems to be Sure, forests and hidden beaches are nice, but they're nicer if they're withing an hour from a Dunkin' Donuts... A perplexing place, this.

Changes

What a week.

It began with travelling to Negros for the first time since training for language camp, encompassed a heavy does of emotional chaos, and ended with a spontaneous trip to Bindoy and two of my best friends' return to America.

One thing about this lifestyle is that even though my fellow PCVs and I spend a good deal of time remarking about the often plodding nature of our days here, when things do change those changes are abrupt and complete.

It was hard to focus on Cebuano with all the other turmoil, and I was glad for the week to be over when it was. Still, the thought of returning to an empty Bohol wasn't entirely appealing either, so Todd, Kate and I headed up to Bindoy with Andrea for the opening events of their town fiesta. I had left my camera on Bohol, but managed to snap a few pictures of carabao (water buffalo) racing, a very bloody cock fight, and other events with Andrea's camera.

It took the better part of a day to get myself back to Lila last Sunday, and on the cramped, after-dark final leg of my journey home I experienced something completely new: the desire to get back to Lila, shake off the week, and resume the plod.

Run buffalo, run!

Climbing a very tall, very greased bamboo pole

The bloody aftermath of a cockfight.

Todd and I climbing a few of the old remaining mangroves on the Bindoy coast. Easier said than done - under the trees their exposed root systems make for hazardous scrambling, especially with waves rolling in.

Thanks for the photos Andrea!