Hello Bohol: Waterfalls

On my last full day of vacation, everything on my Bohol checklist was done, but I was fighting for peace of mind after days of discord in what would turn out to be my shattered friendship. I will not air that laundry here, but it remains one of the hardest losses I’ve sustained in years. Seeking resilience and restoration that day, I turned toward the siren sounds of waterfalls. I adore waterfalls. Not only are they beautiful and fun if you can swim in them, but they also create negative ions. Any kind of massive moving water can do this, like pounding ocean surf or heavy rainstorms, even your shower. Studies started back in the early 2000s on the effects of negative ions on mood showed some promising results that walking on the beach when the waves are going, or visiting a waterfall can give you a major mood boost. Plus, they’re flippin’ gorgeous!


Mas Ago

20171007_095054.jpgMas Ago Falls is possibly the “most famous” of the Bohol waterfalls. I don’t mean to imply that it is famous, simply that of the dozens or more that dot the island, this one is better known and more often visited by tourists than any other. The drive time was a bit more than an hour, and there was a small fee to park my motorcycle and another small fee to enter the “park”. The parking attendant didn’t have any change so simply let me drive by and asked me to pay him as I left since the admittance fee collector would likely have change for me. She did, and also offered to hold my helmet in her office while I went down.

20171007_094312.jpg

I started down a long series of steep stairs. The falls and the river are at the bottom of a gorge. I could hear the falls long before I could see them. The stairs were wide, sturdy and well maintained, so I felt quite safe. My favorite waterfall near Seattle, Murhut Falls, was the other way around, and many others I’ve visited have been as well: a climb to reach, and an easier descent back to the parking lot. I knew as I descended that I would pay for the privilege of waterfall hunting with the uphill return later.

When I arrived at the bottom, it was clear that there had been some changes in the path. One branch led to a viewing platform where visitors could get a nice photo. Broken stairs led from the viewing area to the water, most likely destroyed in the earthquake. The stairs that now lead to the water were “blocked off” by a small stick, which I ducked under and proceeded onward. I felt emboldened to do this because there were already people at the river. There had been a heavy storm the night before, and there were what I presume to be park employees sweeping debris from the rocks to pretty up the area. There was also a father and son who had come down to the river for an early morning wash. It was quickly evident that none of them had been expecting a tourist so early in the morning.

The other effect of the previous night’s storm was that the falls were engorged. Photos I saw online showed two thinner streams  of water coming down the 8m drop into a turquoise pool below. The day I arrived, it was one very large waterfall moving massive amounts of water dangerously fast. The pool was far more peridot than turquoise, but the water was churning roughly and there were branches of fallen trees visible as well. I know better than to risk a river moving that fast, and as I stared at the water coming to terms with the fact that I would not be able to swim, one of the men sweeping asked me just that, “do you want to go swimming?”

20171007_110357.jpg

Of course I did, but the water looked too dangerous, I replied. He showed me a spot further down the river, behind some large rocks where there were pools that were sheltered from the worst of the current and indicated they would be safe. In addition to the rocks, I noticed that part of a concrete staircase had fallen into the river here as well. I found some older pictures of the area online where the pool and river are clear, so I can only guess that the boulders and stairs now cluttering up the river were a result of the quake that affected so much of the region. Given the remote location of the falls and the size of the rocks, I doubt they’ll be cleared away, however they provided a nice shelter from the strong current, and in calmer times would be a great way to get out into the middle of the river for photo-ops.

I doffed my pants but kept the shoulder and back covering I’d worn over my swimsuit. It wasn’t modesty, but a desire to keep the sun away. I settled into a little pool between some rocks and enjoyed the blissfully cool water. The rocks are quite slippery, yet the native Filipinos had no trouble at all bouncing around from rock to rock as though they had the best traction available. I was only somewhat mollified when some of the passing tourists later also had trouble with the slippery rocks (no one was hurt, only dignity).

20171007_094907.jpg

Before long, the sweepers finished and left, then the father and son departed as well, leaving me alone with the waterfall. I was having a little difficulty because I couldn’t get to a spot where I could sit in the water and see the falls at the same time, and so took to moving back and forth between sitting atop a large river rock and watching, and sitting beside that same rock and cooling my sunburn in the water. A few tourists came down the steps, but most just took a few pictures and headed back up. One couple did come down to the part of the river I was at, just to wet their toes, and these were the ones who slipped, as I had, on the rocks. I was less worried about keeping my clothes clean, however, and just resorted to scooting.

The most interesting visit of the morning was when a group of university students from the local college of tourism came down to ask me if they could do a video interview of me for a class project. As a teacher, I am morally obligated to help out with student projects whenever I can, plus they seemed nice, so I agreed and they came carefully down to the slippery rocks so they could film me there in the water, and I answered some questions about where I was from and how I was enjoying Bohol.

Despite a few tourists and students, most of my time at Mas Ago was spent in solitude. It was quiet and refreshing. After a couple hours, the negative ions and natural beauty started working on my mood and I began to feel that addictive surge of wonder and gratitude that I’ve come to associate with exploring the world.

20171007_110350.jpg

When I left, I discovered everyone had gone for lunch. The main fee collection booth was empty and locked, although she had left my helmet on my bike, and when I tried to stop at the parking attendant’s booth to pay the fee I’d missed on the way in, he was gone too, and the barrier blocking traffic was propped up. It seems that while the tourist industry does want to collect their fees when possible, they aren’t too bent out of shape about people wandering in on breaks.

Google Inspired Adventures

My waterfall itch wasn’t quite satisfied, as I’d been unable to do much swimming, and had to keep my distance from the raging falls for safety. I pulled up my trusty Google oracle and searched the area simply for “falls” to see what would come up. Sure enough, the map showed two such designations within 30 minutes of my current location.

People gripe about millennials being attached to phones, and although I’m not actually millennial,  I am attached to my phone. I bring it everywhere, I make sure to get a data plan and have a back up battery at all times. And yes, I like posting cool photos on Instagram or sharing updates on Facebook, but the real reason my phone is a critical accessory in world travel is that it is the ultimate guide book. I can look for attractions, find directions, translate labels or signs, and sometimes find hidden gems that I would never have even known to ask about. So, please, don’t judge people who are tethered to the device until you know what they’re using it for, because the next adventure would not have happened at all without my phone and my Google.

Malingin Falls

20171007_133201.jpgAfter checking the routes, it seemed that even though it was farther as the crow flies, that it was closer as the motorcycle drives and so I headed over to this less well known waterfall site. After driving for a bit on well maintained roads, Google Maps directed me to turn down a dirt side road. I wasn’t especially bothered by this, since several places I’d visited during the last week were down this kind of side road. There was a sign at the intersection for the waterfalls. Although it was a very temporary kind of sign made of hanging vinyl, at least it told me I was headed the right way. As I continued down the road, the gravel and dirt gave way to mud and grass. I passed some bewildered locals and asked querulously if I was heading the right way to the falls. They indicated I was, so I kept on going.

Maybe I should have parked and walked a good bit earlier, but it was hot, and I was reasonably confident in my ability to keep driving as the road became more narrow. Once or twice I hit a mud puddle and slid around a bit, but I was going slow and making progress … until I wasn’t. I managed to drive right into a deep and long patch of mud that claimed the bikes tires and stopped me flat. Putting my feet down, I sank in the mud past my ankles, and I worked hard to get the bike unstuck, only running into the bushes once in the process. In retrospect, it might have been less work to walk the longer distance than to fight with the mud, but it wouldn’t have been as cool a story, and one of my favorite lifestyle adages is to live your life for the stories it creates.

I was finally forced to abandon the bike by the side of the path. I can’t call it a road anymore. I suspect that in drier times it would be easy to drive all the way to the stairs, but the previous night’s rainstorms made the road simply too slippery to drive past a point. I was a little worried about leaving my rental out in what felt like the middle of nowhere, but it seemed like the rural folk were a good deal more honest and trustworthy than city folk are rumored to be, and I had a reasonable expectation it would remain unmolested while I was away. I only walked a short distance before I began to hear the rushing of water that told me I was getting close, and in just a few more minutes, I crested a ridge that opened onto a little green river valley and a beautiful waterfall and swimming hole, complete with local swimmers.

20171007_132708.jpg

There was another staircase down the ridge, but as it was also covered in slippery mud, I took off my mud covered sandals and proceeded down slowly, clinging to the railing, and where the railing was gone, sitting down and scooting once more. I can only imagine the ridiculous image I presented to the locals (who have no trouble at all navigating these slippery steps in flip flops) covered in mud from my struggles on the path, carrying my backpack and helmet and treating the steps like a dangerous mountainside. I made it to the field and began the trek through yet more mud, slipping and falling at least once when I took an incautiously large step. I began to wonder if all those pumice stone scrubbings I do to keep my feet soft were actually a bad idea because it seemed that every place I put my feet they tried to slide out from under me, but I did eventually make it all the way to the water’s edge where I was greeted with some amusement and much courtesy by the families already there.

I didn’t bother to change. Swimming clothed is common in most parts of Asia and the Philippines is no exception. Besides, my clothes were so muddy I’d be getting cleaner by swimming in them.

20171007_133151.jpg

This was easily my favorite waterfall experience of the day. Although it was also the most challenging, I think in some ways that made it more valuable. The river and fields were just amazing. Talk about your basic Garden of Eden unspoiled natural environment! Although there were man-made additions, I thought they added to the experience. There was a kind of concrete mini-dam that formed a pool at the top of the falls and also a safety barrier to keep anyone from getting pulled over by the current (and a footbridge across). There were also some little huts to put belongings and enjoy picnics at while hiding from the sun. The main swimming area was well shaded under an enormous tree.

I was a bit worried about having awkward social encounters, but the people there were lovely. One woman admitted she was quite surprised to see me (although reassuring me I was very welcome) and asked how I had managed to find the place at all. Two teenagers who I think were siblings introduced themselves and chatted with me. The girl was excited when she found out I lived in Korea because she loves K-pop. The families enjoyed themselves taking photos of each other (and some selfies with me), jumping from the top of the falls to the pool below, running up and down the slopes and generally splashing it up.

My favorite thing to do was to rest against the barrier at the falls and let the water rush past me as I looked downriver at the beautiful jungle scenery.

20171007_134617.jpg

Eventually, the families started packing up, and although at first I thought I might stay longer, a group of young men showed up with a bunch of beer. It may have been no threat at all, but I’m afraid my life experiences simply don’t allow me to feel safe as the only woman in a group of men with alcohol in the middle of the woods… yeah, there’s no way not to make that sound like the beginning of a horror movie. I think if anyone else was staying I wouldn’t have been driven off by the young men, but I’d had such a pleasant experience so far, I didn’t want to risk it becoming uncomfortable, or dangerous, so I decided to leave as well.

Solo Female Traveling Safety

I do want to point out that I did not feel unsafe anywhere in Bohol. The worst thing that happened was a guy who came over to talk to us in the ocean the one time we were out after dark, and he was totally friendly. It’s so hard to judge men’s intentions when I’m traveling as a female alone (or with only another female companion). Many folks around the world ask about things like age and marriage by way of friendly conversation and I’ve had lots of women ask me these questions, no problem. Unfortunately, when men ask, I can’t be sure if they just want to chat or if they are scoping me out for anything from easy sex to potential wife. And I’ve encountered the whole range. Some men I’ve met have been lovely to talk with and I’m happy to keep in touch after we part ways. Others made me wonder if it was worth calling the police over. But the vast majority are in a gray middle ground of making me feel vaguely uncomfortable without doing anything overtly “wrong”.

With the “me too” campaign underway, it’s hard not to think about my negative experiences at the hands of men in the US and around the world: taxi drivers who’ve tried to cop a feel or propose marriage in the Middle East. A well meaning festival goer in Japan who insisted my life was unfulfilled without a husband, who insisted on taking my hand in the crowd, and who is still sending me messages 2 years later even after being told “thanks but no thanks” as politely as I can. And I don’t even want to get into anything worse, but yeah, it’s there. I’m sad and angry that I have to live my life assuming that a man is a predator until proven otherwise, but if you as a man are upset that women are treating you like a threat, don’t get mad at us, get mad at all the men who creep, harass, and assault, leaving us with no choice but to live on the defense.

Filipino men may all be perfect gentlemen, I don’t know, but I do know it’s not worth taking the chance. So, I wrung out my clothes and gathered my things and followed the teenagers up the steps.

Stuck in the Mud

I had almost as much trouble going up as coming down, and one older gentleman paused to give me a hand. In this case, my nervousness at taking his hand was that he was not braced on anything and I was sure that adding my weight to his would cause us both to slip down the concrete sairs and split our skulls open, but he stood firmly and confidently and helped me up the steepest parts until I could reach the railing and manage on my own. I am sure they’re hiding super feet, either suckers or tiny hooks… I honestly have no idea how everyone was so sure footed on the mud and algae covered rocks and stairs. Island magic.

I got back to my bike, which was right where I left it, and bid the kids farewell as I began to ride back up the trail. When I encountered the mud patches on the way back, I got off the bike and walked it around, my shoes dangling from the handlebars to keep them mud free. This worked fairly well for the first two or three puddles, but soon I came upon a huge low place in the road. Somehow I’d ridden through it on my way in, but looking at it on the way out it seemed like an impassable lake. To drive home the metaphor, I spotted a water buffalo up to it’s shoulders just next to the road. I tried two times to progress and was forced backward each time after only a step or two.

20171007_142549.jpg

While I stood at the edge of the watery road debating the best path through the mud and marsh, the teenagers who were on foot caught up with me (more evidence I should have just left the bike back at the first mud puddle  on the way in). They quickly realized my conundrum and politely refrained from telling me how silly I’d been to drive in this far with the roads in this condition (literally everyone else I’d seen that afternoon was on foot, although I had seen a few more bikes parked on the path). The young man graciously began to poke around the mud for the shallowest path through, guiding me and my bike wide around the road up into the grass, through the trees, and eventually back down on the other side of the huge morass. I suppose I would have gotten through eventually, but who knows how long it would have taken or how many more times I would have been stuck.

20171007_142554.jpgI was humbled by the absolute unselfish behavior of these teens. They were kind and patient, and generally the type of teenagers no one thinks exist anywhere in the world (love Facebook, K-pop, and their phones, but are kind and helpful to each other and strangers?). I hope that their lives are as good as they are.

I bid them farewell when they reached their homes, and I made it back to the main road without further incident. I was covered in mud to the knees again. I didn’t want to put on my shoes and I didn’t want to drive far barefoot, so I drove just far enough until I saw a little roadside convenience stand.

I couldn’t find anyone, but it seemed that the cashier window was open (or at least not boarded up), so I called out to see if someone was around. The building itself was attached to more domestic looking structures and hanging laundry was also visible. Eventually, some small children noticed me and one girl came over to sell me a packet of cookies and a large bottle of water. They were a bit flustered at having to make change (I was always running out of small coins), but managed it in the end and I sat down on the bench out front to clean up and have my snack. The mud hadn’t had time to dry yet, so rinsing my feet was easy enough, and once they were mud-free I was able to put my shoes back on and do some more serious driving.

Kawasan Falls

The third waterfall was another 20 or so minutes away according to Google, and I wasn’t sure I was up for another slog through the mud, no matter how wonderful the prize at the end. I debated for a while and decided to head over anyway, promising myself that if the road was too muddy, I would turn back. (the lies we tell ourselves)

I followed the directions along the main roads, finally finding the side road in question. There was another sign indicating that this was the way to Kawasan Falls. The side road was under construction, perhaps someone in the tourism industry realized that muddy dirt roads are a solid deterrent to the average tourist. I was somewhat encouraged at the easier drive, although the road workers laughed a bit as I passed by, they assured me that I was on the right road to the falls. I guess that solo motorbiking foreign women are not a common sight on Bohol.

Eventually, the construction ran out, and the road returned to it’s former dirt and gravel state, however places that would have otherwise been mud pits had been filled in with more gravel, making the overall drive much less sticky. It was still a bumpy, uneven, rocky road, but the mud puddles were avoidable and I was able to press on without having to turn back from obstacles. There was a bit of a lawn at the end of the road that was being used as a parking lot and a park attendant sitting next to the path through the trees. Once I was parked, he led me through a little trail to a haphazard entrance pavillion where a young lady collected the small entry fee. The man continued to lead me down the path, although it was the only one and there was no way I could have gotten lost.

We passed some small feeder falls, and a series of elevated huts which I assume could be rented out for a day to have your family gathering and picnic at with a great view of the falls and the downstream river. It was obvious that this site was gunning to become a bigger attraction. There were plenty of locals already there enjoying the day. Once we were in sight of the falls, the guide released me on my own recognizance. It was easily the most crowded place I’d visited that day. I’m not sure if it was the time of day or if because this location had easier access it was just more popular.

20171007_153710.jpg

I waved hello to a bench full of locals who were tickled pink to see me there. I found a tree to dump my bag, shoes and helmet at and set about trying to figure out how to get out to the swimming area. Again, I observed that all the Filipinos have magical feet. As I was moving out toward where some kids were swimming one of the little girls stopped me with a warning about how slippery the rocks were, and I headed off disaster or at least embarrassment. While trying to get out another way, I got approached for some more ‘selfies with the tourist’. Sometimes I wonder if I look like someone famous. I don’t think my appearance is especially remarkable, and yet it seems to give people joy to take pictures with me. I don’t get it, but it’s harmless as far as I know, and doesn’t cost me anything to make someone else happy, so I do it. I hesitate to imagine how many random group photos I’m in from around the world.

Of the three falls I saw that day, although Malingin was my favorite overall experience, there is no contest that Kawasan was the most stunning visually. (Not to be confused with Kawasan over in Cebu which is super famous and crowded with tourists from what I hear). It was much taller than the other two, and of course because of the previous night’s rains it was pouring a magnificent amount of water. Despite the torrent, a group of young men had climbed up the rock-face (no stairs, no handholds, just magic feet) and were sitting behind the falls. Lots of kids and moms with little ones were in the shallower pools, and a few more emboldened swimmers were out in the deep pool directly beneath the falls.

I am a confident swimmer, so I was happy to get right up close. I ended up perching against some large rocks in the pool to rest and just take in the scenery. It was the pinnacle of what I had hoped for when I set out to swim under a fall that day, since I was submerged in the cool water only a few meters from the downpour, the strength of the wind created by the falling water blowing the wonderful clean smell (and negative ions) over me while I gazed upward to the sun-sparkled peak where the water leapt over the edge like liquid diamonds.

After a little while of pure “oh my god, this is my life” feelings, I noticed that the young men up on the sheer rockface were standing up and preparing to jump. I have nothing against jumping into water. I like diving. I may be overly paranoid about jumping into water I’m unfamiliar with, but I think it’s safe to assume these young men were regulars at this particular swimming hole. Nonetheless, it was a nailbiting scene, and it was clear that even the jumpers were more than a little nervous, one even performing a sign of the cross before leaping into the air. Everyone below watched and cheered so it became a group spectator sport and when they returned to the shore, the young men were welcomed by their waiting wives and girlfriends.

20171007_155237.jpg

One of them asked me if I wanted to try, and while I might have been ok with the jumping part, when I asked them how they even got up there in the first place, they pointed to a section of wall that looked incredibly vertical and slippery, so I declined. I did try my luck at getting closer to the falls, although I only made it about halfway across the deep pool before the current and force of the wind drove me back, but it was exhilarating to be able to get so close to so much natural beauty and power.

After I retreated back to the resting rock, I was approached by yet another set of tourism students from the university, out collecting interviews for what was very likely the same class project. Of course I agreed to appear on camera, but I can’t help imagining what that class will be like when they show their projects and two separate groups with interviews at two separate waterfalls show up with the same tourist in their report!

I would have happily stayed until it was too dark to see or I got kicked out. Especially because around this time the crowds started thinning out and I got to take some totally human free photos of the magnificent scenery. However, I had made dinner plans for my last night in town and didn’t want to cancel. Thus, I clambered cautiously back through the shallow pools filled with pointy rocks, gathered my belongings, and climbed back out of the river valley as the golden light of the afternoon sun cast it’s glow on the quiet jungle around me.

20171007_161739.jpg


And so ends the Chuseok Philippine Holiday. Like all the very best vacation posts, it takes me months to process all the stories and photos. My goal is always to get one vacation fully published before the next one, and while I didn’t have a winter vacation this year, I am doing a major upheaval in March as I move to a new city in Korea, rent my first Korean apartment on my own, and start a new job, so that seemed like a good deadline. I don’t know how much time I’ll have in March to write, but I hope that as the weather warms up and the flowers come out in April, I’ll have a cavalcade of new stories about this next leg of my journey. As always, you can see the full photo album on Facebook. Thanks for reading!

Hello Bohol: A Day Around Panglao

One full day itinerary for my Philippine holiday included a driving tour of the smaller island of Panglao. I’d had the chance to drive up to Bohol, I’d had a lazy beach day, and Thursday was my day to find as many points of interested on Panglao as I could. As always, I’m drawn to water, so I found a couple of lakes, one of them underground. I made it back to visit the bees and learn more about the local plants. I saw one of the most expensive and tiniest seashells in the world, and I witnessed my very first “fire rainbow”. What’s a fire rainbow? I guess you just have to read to the end, now.


Hinagdanan Cave

I’ve read that there are a multitude of caves around Panglao, but it seems that most of them are not set up for the safety and convenience of visitors. Several of the ones that are visitor friendly were too far to drive this trip. A few others are exclusive to certain resorts who restrict their private cave spa to their guests, and yet more that are only accessible to divers. Hinagdanan is easily the most famous of all of these, and the advice I’d read online was get there early if you want to swim (before it gets crowded). The reviews on the swimming were mixed, and by the time I finished researching it, I had no idea what to expect. We found the cave entrance easily enough and pulled into shady parking spots amid a hoard of souvenir stalls and snack stands and then bought our tickets. The entrance fee is quite low, but there is an additional fee for swimming. The whole thing is only a couple dollars US. Everything that is maintained (cleaned) has a small entrance fee, but none of them are onerous, and they do seem to be well cared for.

20171005_092425.jpgWe signed the guest book and the guides at the top of the entrance offered to keep an eye on our helmets while we went down. The stairwell looks like a black hole into nothingness, and the cave entrance is more like a sinkhole than a cave mouth. The stairs are steep, but sturdy and have a handrail, and it’s a short trip down. Once inside, there’s plenty of room to stand up straight and look around. It’s a small cavern with some lovely, though not stunning formations. The main attractions are the natural skylight that fills the cavern with the warm light of the sun like a spotlight, and the beautiful crystal clear pool. Looking at the water, I couldn’t understand why anyone had complained about it in the reviews. I suppose it’s possible that weather or too many swimmers might have clouded it up during their visit, but for us, just past opening time, the water was still, blue, and so clear that every rock on the bottom was visible even in the dim cavern.20171005_092702.jpg

We decided at once that swimming had been a great choice, and found a little outcrop to put our things before entering the water. There’s obviously been some man-made construction: stairs, a railing and a little platform to make getting in and out easier. The water was cool and soothing on my sunburnt skin. The bats were mostly sleeping, but occasionally we could hear a squeak or a wing-beat from our neighbors in the ceiling. The water is technically brackish, and I did hear a guide tell someone else that, but all that means is that it is a mix of fresh and sea water, not that it is somehow dirty. You wouldn’t want to drink it, and only mangrove plants are adapted to use it to live on, but it’s absolutely fine for swimming.20171005_093137.jpg

We tootled around in the underground pool for well over an hour. Often we had the cavern to ourselves, but a couple times, the guides brought groups of tourists in who just wanted to have a look and get some photos. The famous photo op there is to stand under the skylight and do a trick shot that makes you look like a saint. A few people waded through the shallow water around the steps, but no one else came in to swim. I took a million photos, and at the time my display screen showed the beautiful clear and turqouise pool, but when I looked back again later they were all black. It reminded me of a story from Terry Pratchett’s Discworld where people can be fooled by illusions, but the photoboxes can only see what’s truly there. I enjoyed the slightly chilling idea that I’d spent the morning in inky black water that was enchanted by some creature to make it seem blue and welcoming, but it turns out my companion’s pictures worked out a little better, and we do have a small amount of photographic evidence after all.20171005_094451.jpg

Songculan Lake

Although I felt like I could spend the whole day in that cool and quiet swimming cave, the time came to move on if I wanted to see the rest of the itinerary before dark, and we got back on the road feeling peaceful and refreshed. My next stop was a large lake that I’d only seen on the map and not found any mention of in other tourism websites. It’s called Songculan Lake, and it’s so close to the cave that it seemed like a shame to not at least go and look at while we were up there. The road that runs along the lake doesn’t afford much of a view since the lake is mostly blocked off by mangrove jungle.

20171005_110603.jpgWe drove around in hopes of getting a glimpse of the water or perhaps some boating opportunity, but mostly what we found was a kind of upscale neighborhood where the people seemed rather surprised to see us. It seemed not unlike other lakefront neighborhoods, and we still had no view of the water which I presumed was visible from the back windows of these beautiful houses. At last we came up to the bridge that crosses the narrow point where the river meets the lake and we got our viewing spot.

20171005_111720.jpgI’m sure everyone thought we were nuts for pulling over and walking out on the bridge to take pictures, but it was very pretty, and we’d driven over there more or less just to find out if there was anything to see at all. At the far end of the bridge I found a staircase that led down to a shaded swimming area in the lake, but it was occupied by a local family and I wasn’t entirely sure of the etiquette so I waved politely and moved on.

 

Bohol Bee Farm Tour

20171005_133031We went back to the Bee Farm for lunch and the “tour”. Arnold, our guide, started us out with a little cooking lesson in the herb garden where we played “name that herb”. I recognized nearly all of them, but the oregano completely stumped me. What? Oregano? How hard is that to spot? Yeah, but this crazy Filipino oregano was completely different with HUGE leaves. The guide asked the names of each plant in English, Tagalog, and Boholano, and when we got to the oregano and everyone saw how surprised we were, we had to explain the differences in the plant’s appearance in Europe and America versus the one growing in the Philippines. Arnold said he’d heard about that but never seen the European varieties. Behind him ranged a huge display of potted herbs with their names displayed, and I recognized most, but had to ask about Pandan.

Pandan is an aromatic, used to add fragrance to things like rice, and it can be used to repel cockroaches, which I thought was interesting. Later I saw it in the ice cream flavors, and now that I’ve read this article, I’m kind of sad I didn’t eat it when I had the chance.

20171005_134343.jpgOnce we were finished in the herb garden, we moved over to the manufacturing areas. Arnold explained that while they do use as many of their own ingredients as possible, the farm has grown too large for them to do tours of the farmland itself anymore. We saw the bakery where they made the wonderful squash bread. We saw the creamery where they were busy making ice cream, sadly it smelled like Durian was the flavor of the moment. And we saw the prepping areas where they made and packaged the teas, honeys, and other goodies used in the restaurant and sold in the gift shop.

ezgif.com-optimize

In addition to foods, we got to see some of the other manufacturing they do including the hand woven raffia, mostly mats and wall hangings they grow from a tree locally called “buri” which is more widely known as the coryphe, a type of palm tree native to the Philippines, the leaves of which can be stripped and dried to make the fibers used in weaving. We got to watch one of the ladies doing traditional weaving, a method that can only produce a few feet of material in a workday, but is preserved as part of the local cultural heritage. We also met the seamstresses who turn the woven fabric into bags and other goods to be sold, as well as some furniture restoration where young men worked to give new life to old chairs using the woven raffia and palm leaves.

At last, it was time to meet the bees. Although the majority of the hives had been moved away from the restaurant and hotel, they kept two on hand for the local gardens and for the tourists. These aren’t Philippine bees, but European honey bees, the most docile honey producers available. Arnold had us stand a decent way back from the hives and gave us a serious talk about safety, warning us especially not to swat at any bees who happened to fly around or land on us because it could trigger defensive behavior and result in some major stinging. He also reassured us there was a clinic there on hand just in case. Finally, he went to pull some bees out for us to have a closer look, and boy were we in luck. Not only were these the most chilled out bees ever (not even one took off and tried to investigate us), we got to see the queen in the very first tray that came out!

20171005_140109.jpg

As you most likely know, there is only one queen per hive and she never emerges except to swarm, so seeing the queen is pretty special. Although she is visually different from the other bees, that bright turquoise spot is added on by her human caretakers to make it easier to spot her when they’re harvesting honey or doing hive maintenance. Once we all oooohed and aaahed over the royalty, everyone in the group was offered a chance to hold the tray full of bees and pose for photos. Arnold was very careful to hand off the tray gently and with safe gripping spots. At first I was hesitant, but when even the little Boholano grannies did it, and not a single bee was perturbed, I decided it was ok to have a go. It was silly fun and I’m glad I did it.

20171005_140244.jpg

On our way back into the gift shop, I passed a curious looking fruit and snapped a photo to ask about it inside. I was told it was called a “mickey mouse” fruit, but that it wasn’t really a fruit like for eating. Once I got back to the internet and had a bit of a rummage around, it turns out that it is the solanum mammosum, also called “utong” which is Tagalog for “nipple” and took me to some strange search results before I finally figured it out.

20171005_141021

Back inside the gift shop, we went and had a few more samples of our favorites from the last evening visit, as well as sampling a few new things. My top new discovery here was a thing called “hard honey”. It wasn’t crystallized honey, which sometimes happens when I forget about a jar in the back of my cabinet, but instead a liquid with a dark color and a texture like soft taffy or thick molasses. Indeed, it tasted a little bit like molasses would if it was made from honey, and my deep need to know things was immediately satisfied by the knowledgeable staff and helpful signs.

Hard honey is a thing that happens when honey stays in a hive for a while and ages. Hive aged honey. I assume the texture is a result of evaporation? And it would seem that the unique flavor is a combination of the honey taking in the flavors around it and a slight fermentation. Either way, it was a magnificent new taste experience which I recommend.

Nova Shell Museum

20171005_153024After lunch I went in search of the Nova Shell Museum, because I like seashells and museums. The whole area of Bohol is filled with tiny little roadside tourist attractions that are so cheesy and cost 20-60p to go see. I realize looking back on this experience that there is a high probability I enjoyed these because they reminded me of the random roadside attractions that we would sometimes visit on road trips when I was a kid. The US has (had? I’m not sure how many are still there) a huge number of tiny local sights setup for families to stop and look at while stretching their legs or getting a snack. None are sights that are destinations in and of themselves but they are fun to see if you’re passing by. This is how I felt about the Shell Museum. Would I have driven out of my way for it? Probably not, but it was right there next to one of my go to restaurants (La Familia) and only a few minutes drive from our hotel, so why not?

This is not a museum the way that I usually think of them. It is, in fact, the private collection of a Mr. Quirino Hora who has been obsessively collecting shells for more than 50 years and likes to show them off at this tiny building in Panglao. It is said that he collected many of them himself around the various islands of the Philippines, but he has also purchased several. My guide, because you cannot go anywhere without one of those, was clearly instructed to make sure that visitors understood the price and rarity of the shells on display. It was this emphasis on price tags that made me ask about the collection’s owner in the first place, finding it less and less likely that this was some kind of government run museum. I have nothing against private collectors, and I think it’s nice that he’s decided to share this stunning collection, but “museum” might be a bit misleading.

I remember going into the stone and gem rooms in the Smithsonian as a kid and seeing case after case, and drawers and drawers of cases of samples of different rocks all carefully labeled. It was like that, but with shells. Shells were put in groups and there were tiny tags for labels that were mostly taxonomic with the scientific name, the “author” (I’m not sure what that means in context of a shell), and a location and depth at which the shell was found. Sadly, I just don’t know enough about shells for the tags to tell me much, but I did enjoy looking at the huge array of shapes and colors including some naturally party colored scallop shells, some stunningly large nautilus, a kind of critter that liked to decorate it’s shells with the smaller shells of other animals, and three enormous shells of giant clams which I have seen in the wild, but only at about a 10th the size of these monsters.

The pride of the collection is an extremely tiny shell found in Panglao and named after the Emperor of Japan, and the two shells that Mr. Hora discovered himself and are so named after him. They range in value from a few dollars to millions. There are rooms and rooms stacked with shells in cases, behind glass, on shelves, in drawers and eventually just in boxes. Like any worthy tour, it let out in the gift shop where the more common shells were sold whole or made into art and jewelry for sale. Outside the gift-shop, there was a small tree house I was invited to climb around and explore and they talked with me about the museum’s plans for expansion.

Fire Rainbow

20171006_172421.jpgThat night we went back to the Pearl at Linaw for a sunset diner on the beach.  I spent more or less the entire vacation being in absolute awe of the cloud formations that piled up in fluffy mountains around our island, and this night was no exception. I got up from the table several times to walk the few meters to the water’s edge and get the most unobstructed sunset views possible. However, we got treated to something a little more than your average (stunning) tropical sunset. As the sun worked it’s way downward, I noticed an odd smudge of color at the top of the tower of clouds. I thought that it was that beautiful golden lining effect that so often happens when the sun back-lights dark clouds. I took more photos, admiring the glow and the strong beam-like shadow that was being cast into the sky.20171006_172654.jpg

As I watched, more colors than gold began to appear. Soon I could see a tinge of green and purple. And then an entire rainbow spectrum appeared in the crown of light atop this cloud. It did not look like a rainbow, for it lacked the shape and stripes. It looked if anything as though a rift in the space time continuum had opened up. I had no idea what could be causing this unique and stunning visual effect, but I stayed standing on the beach, food forgotten, alternating between taking photos and simply staring in awe until the colored halo receded. Only then did I return to my table to eat, venturing forth once more when the sunset clouds became a brilliant pink.20171006_173842.jpg

Back in Korea, I was finally able to research this atmospheric oddity, and I have discovered that I apparently witnessed something rare and special, well, I knew it was special, but I had no idea how rare. It’s called an “iridescent cloud” or sometimes a “fire rainbow”, and it, like other rainbows is caused by sunlight refracting through water, but this variety generally only happens on hot, humid days with lots of cumulus clouds. Only the tall piles of clouds like I had been admiring on my trip get high enough to cool the warm air and condense into droplets forming the cap, or “pileus”, creating the disc of color that I saw. According to National Geographic, not only is it rare to see such a phenomenon, photos are even rarer. I feel amazingly lucky to have had the opportunity for both!

20171006_172952


Even though it’s a small island with no cities, I found Panglao enchanting and found that 9 days wasn’t even enough to see everything. I’ve been thinking a lot about my island adventures this January, not only because it’s so very cold in Busan, but because I’ve sacrificed my winter holiday this year in favor of running around Korea doing job interviews. Sometime in March when that hair-pulling adventure is wrapped up, I’ll share all the crazy details, but until then I’ll share my memories of Bohol to keep us all warm.

Hello Bohol: Firsts and Lasts

This post is a collection of tales of how I came to spend 9 days in Bohol, and of my first and last impressions of the country. I warned you that this holiday would not be presented in chronological order, and how much more out of order can you get than putting the first evening and last morning together? Read on to find out more about Korean holidays, Philippine toilets, a little about tipping culture, and a little about human kindness.


What Am I Doing Here?

gimhae-airport.jpg

Image Credit: Haps Magazine

What made me think it was a good idea to take a 9 pm flight on a Friday before a major holiday? Considering I bought the plane tickets back in early May, I don’t have a clear recognition of that decision making process, but I’m sure it had to do with some combination of maximizing vacation time and minimizing price/layover time. Regardless of why I made the decision at the time, when the day arrived and I stood outside in the dark waiting on the limousine bus to the airport at a time of the week I’m usually in my PJ’s with a glass of wine recovering from the school week, I asked myself this question.

When I arrived at Gimhae airport to find it more full of humans than I’ve ever seen it before, the line for my check in counter already stretched across the large room, and the flight itself delayed by an hour, I asked myself again. One day, we’ll invent teleporters, or I’ll finally steal a TARDIS, but until then, airports are the necessary evil I face to enjoy the world.

The Big Holiday Gets Bigger

It was Chuseok again in Korea, that wacky lunar fall holiday that moves around more than Easter, but is a bigger deal than Christmas. Last year, you may recall, I took a 5 day weekend in early September down to Jeju, the “Hawaii of Korea” because Chuseok fell on a Wednesday-Saturday, and I also had no idea it was coming until it was almost here, so no real time to plan a getaway (thanks Enjoy Korea for saving me there). This year, Chuseok is in early October, and because of magical lunar calendars, the timing for no work days was awesome. The actual holiday was Tuesday-Friday, but many businesses (including my school) decided not to bother opening on the Monday before. Plus, the Monday after was October 9th, a controversial holiday in the US (I prefer “Indigenous People’s Day” to that other dude), and Canadian Thanksgiving this year also, in Korea, it was Hangeul Day, the day we celebrate the creation of the Korean phonetic writing system that freed them from the complex Chinese writing system and enabled the country to become super-literate. To save you the arithmetic, that’s 10 straight days of not working.

Choose Your Own Adventure

I wanted at first to go back to Koh Lipe, but the island is closed this part of the year due to the weather. *sigh. I pulled up my new favorite flight searching website, as well as several old standbys to see what the cheapest fares to the most interesting places were during my window of opportunity. It turns out that even though I started looking as early as April, most Koreans had been looking since last Chuseok, and the prices were already 2-4x what they normally would be for every destination. It’s also the “rainy season” in all of SE Asia, so trying to pick someplace I wouldn’t simply drown in a monsoon was on my mind. Finally, I settled on going to the Philippines, to the island of Bohol, and the even smaller island of Panglao.

I chose this destination for a combination of 1) ticket price, 2) new country experience, 3) recommended by a friend who lives in Manila, 4) Bohol is surrounded by larger islands, so I hoped they would serve as a weather break to protect me from the worst of any ocean going storms, 5) it’s not a total tourist resort yet. But first, I had to stop over in…

Manila

My flight landed in Manila around 1am. There were huge lines for immigration, and although I had no bags to collect, it still took me a while to navigate the terminal to find customs (no one even looked at me as I breezed through, let alone checked my paperwork or bags), and then to find the only open SIM card vendor at 2am. They gave us vouchers on the flight for a free SIM and I knew that I could try to get one in the morning on my way out of Manila, but when I found a lone agent manning a tiny booth outside the taxi pick up, I joined the short line and paid up for a working data connection. My lifeblood restored, I went off in search of my ride.

I had a 9 hour layover in Manila, which became an 8 hour layover when the flight was delayed, and then 7 because I didn’t get out of the airport until 2am… you see how this is going. But at the time I booked the tickets I did not relish spending 9 hours in a mostly closed airport with unknown facilities (just as well, since the Manila airport is severely lacking in comfort and entertainment even during operating hours, and it was positively barren overnight). While searching for options to rest my feet during the break I found a little hostel right next to the airport that clearly decided to make a business of the long Manila layovers.

Jorvim Apartelle arranged an airport shuttle, a comfortable room (shared bathrooms), working AC, and a fresh breakfast before the return shuttle as part of their package deal. Maybe I could have paid less by doing it all piecemeal, but it was worth it not to have to hunt down a taxi at 2am or worry about feeding myself at 6am. It wasn’t a long nap, but I was horizontal and cool and I awoke much refreshed. Breakfast was a simple egg, fried slice of spam and scoop of rice with Nescafe on the side, but it enough to be getting on with, and the driver made sure we all got to the airport in time to go through all the security.

Oh the security. Manila is going through some weird stuff politically, which I’ll get into later, but I’m assuming that is part of the security set up at the airport. While customs had seemed wholly unconcerned with what I brought into Manila, once I was going on to another port, I had to pass through a gauntlet of x-ray machines. Simply to enter the terminal, one must pass through bag x-rays and metal detectors. I didn’t have to stand in line to check in since I already had my boarding pass, but to get to the gates, I had to pass another screening. I’m not sure what they thought we might put in our bags or pockets between the front door and the boarding gates, but there it was.

For a major international airport, the Manila airport is pokey. At first I thought it was just because I was on a domestic flight, but my wait in the international terminal on the way out was not much better. I went to get an iced coffee, only to discover that this just meant nescafe over ice… and it tasted awful. The first time it was so sweet I felt I was drinking sugar syrup, when I went back and reminded them I’d asked for no sugar, I got something that sort of tasted like a mix of coffee and chalk. It seems that the Starbucks invasion of the Philippines hasn’t reached the airport yet. It did not bode well for my coffee prospects on holiday, but I consoled myself with the idea of beach drinks instead while I discreetly tipped my cup in the bin.

Tagbilaran

When we left Manila, I stared out the plane window at the bustling city, tall buildings and concrete from one coast to the other with little spots of green here and there. When we flew in over Bohol, it seemed the opposite was true. Not a single high rise building or city-like cluster tainted the green below us. I could see the rolling dark green of mountains and the brighter green of farm land.

As we got closer, I could make out palm trees and rice fields, and the Chocolate Hills that are the most famous land feature of the island. The water we passed over was so clear and shallow I could see the outlines of the reefs from the air. I began to seriously wonder about the “city” we were supposed to land in as we passed over more and more jungle broken up with the occasional road or group of houses.

When we finally landed in Tagbilaran, the entire airport was a single building that was smaller than the hostel I’d stayed in in Manila. The runway was short and the tarmac could not have accommodated more than one plane at a time. We disembarked via stairs and walked to the terminal a few yards away while bags were unloaded onto carts. There was a small luggage carousel in the building, but to be honest, I’m not sure why. The flight was so small it seemed like it might have been easier to simply let passengers claim bags as they came off the plane rather than use the tiny moving circle inside.

20170930_103533

A Word About the Bathrooms

Because my hotel at least 30 minutes away, I stood in line for the restroom in the airport, only to discover that Philippine toilets don’t come with seats… They weren’t Asian style squatters, they just looked like Western toilets without a seat. I thought maybe it was broken, but I saw many more like this any time we were in a very Filipino place, so I’m thinking it’s normal there. Plus, the first non-Muslim country I’ve seen the hose regularly installed. Toilet culture.

I found a decent article later on about the bathroom situation in the Philippines. I think it’s gotten better in the last 9 years since the blogger wrote this, but some of it is still true. Even in Bohol, most of the places “for tourists” had toilet seats. Many had paper (although still best to throw that in the trash and not the bowl). But when I did go to a less touristy area, I was greeted with seatless bowls, flushless toilets (like the ones in Koh Lipe that had to have water poured down them), and either the Arabic style hose or the Philippine traditional tabo (bucket and ladle) for cleaning. I’m reasonably open to doing things like the locals, but I still bring my own paper when I’m touring in case of emergency.

philippines-comfort-room-cr

Image Credit: markblackard.com

Finding Food on Foot

The hotel I’d chosen was only a couple km from the most famous Alona Beach, but far enough away to be much cheaper while still being quite nice. There were animals everywhere. Goats, cows, dogs, chickens… and I could hear the roosters from my room, but they weren’t too loud inside so I didn’t think it would be a problem to sleep through them. Once I got in and had a little look around, I asked my hostess, Becca where to get some food.

Becca is the best, by the way. I seriously recommend everyone who wants to go to Panglao go to Imagine Bohol and stay with her, because she is wonderfully attentive, speaks great English, and will recommend or arrange anything you’re looking for.

20170930_113725There were no food delivery options nor any restaurants in walking distance and although it was my plan to rent a motor bike (scooter) for the week, I was waiting until my travel companion arrived on a her flight 4 hours behind me so we could handle both rentals at once. However, my breakfast had been a long time ago, and I needed something to quiet the growling tummy. As we reviewed our options, she mentioned hesitantly that there was a small convenience store just down the street where I could get some ramen. Done! She said she’d show me where it was and I expected it to be hidden or at least farther, but when we got to the gate of the hotel drive, she pointed at a sign barely down the street, less than 2 minutes walk.

I headed over, meandering my way, taking in the flowers and greenery on the side of the road as well as playing a short game of peekaboo with a shy child hiding behind a tree. A man came out from a house and began to purposfully cut small branches from a tree, but he was collecting them, not discarding them, so I assumed it was not merely pruning. I asked him what the tree was and he replied “mulungway”. “What’s that?” I asked, not yet understanding how strange a question it must have seemed to him. However, his English was not up to the task and he simply said, “for eating”. I didn’t recognize the tree and vowed to look it up when I got back to the room, but sadly I had forgotten it by then and didn’t hear it again for several days.

The convenience store folks were surprised to see me, and were endlessly helpful as I bumbled around the tiny aisles looking for lunch. I ended up with cup noodles, an egg, and an ice cream cone. As I was paying, the ladies wished me farewell, and I said, oh, you’ll probably see me again since I’m staying right down the street. This seemed to make them happy and we chatted some more before I finally left.

I had heard from other travelers how friendly the Filipino people are, but I was starting to understand that it was not actually an exaggeration. I mean, I like talking to locals everywhere I go, and usually I find kind and helpful people and have good experiences, but dang if every single school kid didn’t break into a grin and wave and say hello when I passed by. Leaving tourist spaces can be scary, but I think in Panglao is well worth it.

Leapin’ Lizzards

20171005_182724As the sun set, the lizards came out, and when I went back to the room, I was greeted on the porch by a gecko. It was maybe 6 inches long, not huge, but so unexpected I let out a little yelp, and Becca sent someone to save me. I insisted they did not need to shoo the little lizard away with a broom, but Becca said sometimes they bite. She also pointed out the tiny 1-2 inch lizards elsewhere that were totally safe. I asked if the gecko was poisonous, but it’s not, and it wasn’t even slightly aggressive, but I still kept a distance from the others I saw so as not to add gecko bite to my list of minor travel injuries.

Grateful Farewell

The last morning of vacation, it was time to settle our account with Becca, the hostess with the mostest at our little apartelle. Like most places in Bohol, they only take cash, and she’d been careful to politely remind us the day before in case we needed to get to an ATM. Tipping culture in the Philippines is not yet standard, but I’d read up a bit before coming, and I’d seen many things I’d read confirmed. Fancy restaurants tended to add a 10% tip into the bill, most places didn’t expect a tip but were happy to get one. Tips are still expressions of gratitude there, and so when we felt we were treated especially well, we left a special tip, and if we felt the service was adequate, we left 10% (often included) at fancy places, and not at all in “regular” places. But when it came to the hotel we were both in agreement that Becca and her staff deserved more, and to be honest, it wasn’t a very expensive hotel to begin with, so 20% was still only about 40$. I don’t know if that seems big or small to you. I’ve never stayed in one hotel for 9 days before. I’ve left tips for housekeeping before, but usually only when I made a mess or when they did extra work for me. But Becca was so gracious, always there for us, making sure we had everything we needed, the apartment was cleaned up every day, fresh towels and sheets, she arranged our motorbike rentals (at a much better rate than other places around the island), scheduled our firefly tour, recommended beaches and restaurants and was just generally a fantastic part of the holiday.

I took our rent and her tip bundled together and brought it to her room in the morning, letting her know that the extra money was for her, and not waiting around for her to count it before heading back to finish packing up. A few minutes later she came by our room to see if we’d made a mistake. This is I think the most amazing insane part of this story. We gave her 20%, like I said about 40$US in tip. I can almost imagine someone questioning a mistake if we’d given her hundreds, but in the grand scheme of my life, 40$ (or really 20$ from 2 people) is not that much even to loose accidentally. But she was so honest that she came back to see if we gave her too much money by mistake. No, I told her, you’ve done so much to help us and make us feel welcome and cared for, this is our way to say thank you.

She teared up. Actual tears in her eyes, and she asked if she could give us hugs and told us we had been such wonderful guests. It blew my mind a little bit that such simple things as appreciating her with words and a small gift meant so much. This was obviously not an everyday occurrence in her life at the hotel and it struck me not for the first time how the people here are treated simply because of the reputation of their country as a source of cheap labor and maids.

I hope in some small way that sharing my experiences of Bohol and it’s people can help paint the Filipino people as a caring, friendly, generous and worthwhile group of people who deserve the same respect and courtesy as all of us no matter what their job is. A little kindness goes a long way here, so spread it around.

20170930_113737


The weather in Busan is decidedly cold these days, and the mountain outside my window has turned from green to russet as the trees change for autumn. I’m still pressing though a monumental amount of healthcare. It turns out that suddenly having access to good and affordable care means you actually go. I’m totally fine, I’m just a dental and medical anomaly and require more specialists than the average bear. Despite this drain on my time and energy, I try to stay grateful that I’m doing this here and not in some country with totally inadequate health insurance plans. Hopefully by January I’ll be able to do some kind of adventuring again. Stay tuned for more tales from Bohol as I get my first (and only) motorcycle lesson, and the wonderful freedom and unique experiences that came with this new mode of transportation in our next installment: My Own Two Wheels. Thanks for reading! ❤

Malay Peninsula 11: Koh Lipe, pt. 1

For those who have just joined my Malay adventure, be warned that this is not an idyllic tropical vacation. I didn’t book a package tour and the consequence of managing all my own transportation was an increasing series of unfortunate events that at best forced me to learn and grow as a person, and at worst made me want to drop Thailand off the edge of the galaxy (it’s a disc, it totally has an edge). Koh Lipe is a tropical paradise. It came so close to being the real blue ocean, beach bumming, umbrella drink having vacation that I’m dreaming about. Maybe next year.


The Langkawi Ferry Terminal

20170124_091315The only way to get to the small island of Koh Lipe is by boat. I booked online in advance because I didn’t want to worry about tickets selling out. The only reason I was in Langkawi in the first place was to catch this boat to Koh Lipe. After the walking fiasco of the day before, I opted to get one of the islands fixed rate taxis back to the port and arrived 2 hours before the ferry’s departure time, as I was advised to do.

The ferry terminal on Langkawi is like most transportation terminals in Malaysia in that there are a million teeny tiny travel agency booths selling tickets for all the same things. All I had to do was find the agency I booked  with and check in. After going around the entire block without spotting it, I was forced to approach another booth for directions to one of their rivals. The first people I asked tried to tell me that it had closed down.

Trying not to freak out on anyone, I pointed out that I’d already bought my tickets online and once they realized that I wasn’t looking to buy tickets (read not a prospective customer) they pointed me in the right direction. This turned out to be nowhere near the other offices and in a totally different building on the second floor “above the Baskin Robbins” (information that could have been included in the email, thanks not thanks Tigerline).

When I found the office it was not open. The email said it would be open 2 hours before and it was now 90 min before. I was told 10 minutes (this is never true, it’s a mythical number that people in developing countries have learned to say to people from first world countries because it’s short enough to keep us from complaining or going someplace else). I sat down to wait, and about 20 minutes later someone came by to have us fill out paperwork and collect our passports.

I had not had breakfast or even coffee yet, as my base plan had been to check in and get my ticket, then to eat at the terminal where I had seen many restaurants the day before. I also had to change my Malay ringits to Thai baht because we would have to pay the longtail boat fare and national park fee in cash as soon as we got to the island. However, when Tigerline told us to show up an hour before departure, they really meant show up and wait around in their tiny waiting room. The staff (when they showed up) were helpful and friendly, however, and I was able to get away when I explained my predicament with the promise I would be back at the meeting point on time. I was in such a hurry that I did things out of order, changing my money before buying food. Since most places in Malaysia only take cash, I ended up at Starbucks for a breakfast I could buy with a card. This is my sadface. Especially since I loved the Malaysian coffee so much.

Where Are You From?

When your skin color doesn’t match the local population it’s a little obvious you’re a foreigner. The “good news” (no, not really) is that white privilege exists everywhere and that the worst thing that’s likely to mean for me is getting overcharged. More often than not it results in people going out of their way to be gracious hosts and good representatives of their country to me. The question I get asked most often is “where are you from?”.

I have hated this question my whole life because my parents are military and we moved for the first time in my life before I was even a year old out of the US and to a foreign country. With my family I lived in 3 countries and six states within the US. I’m not even sure how the word “from” applies to me. Now that I live abroad it’s even more complicated. While I’m in Korea (where I live right now) it’s easy enough to tell people I’m from America, but taking vacations I’m like “uh, well, I’m American, but I don’t live there anymore”, or “I’m American, but I live in…” whichever country I happen to be calling home these days.  It’s not just about distancing myself from the negative perceptions of American tourists (although that is a part of it). It’s an attempt to give an honest answer. I may be an American and a tourist but I’m not going back to America at the end of the holiday, and I think my cultural perceptions are at least bit broader than the average tourist.

That morning in my tired, rushed state I just said, “Korea” when I was asked and then watched the look of confusion spread on the baristos face. “You don’t really look…”, he started, but was clearly unsure of how to finish the sentence without sounding offensive. I realized my mistake and came to an awkward rescue with my patented “English teacher abroad” explanation. The poor guy looked so relieved I couldn’t help but laugh.

Entering Thailand by Sea

20170124_111025There are no piers on the island. Instead, the ferries anchor a ways out either at floating piers or just in open water. The one I arrived on docked with a patch of floating platform where we could transfer ourselves and our luggage from the speedboat to the smaller longtail boats that would take us to the island. I was amazed to see people arriving with massive piles of baggage considering the situation and was once more grateful for my decision to keep my luggage under 7kg.

20170124_112040The longtails are small boats, named for the motor at the end of a long pole that juts from the stern and into the water. No more than a dozen people can board a longtail together, so the ferry passengers broke up into smaller clusters. Once the longtail arrived at on land, the local operators would hop out and drag the bow a little way up the beach and tie it to a mooring anchor there. The only way for us to get out was to take a splash in the sea. I quickly shed my socks and shoes and tied the laces to my bag, then rolled up my pants and took my first steps into Thailand through the sparkling turquoise water.

The immigration and national park offices are on Pataya beach, and I trod barefoot through the pale sand to join the queue. Best immigration line ever.

20170124_120532

Getting Settled In

20170125_124529
Koh Lipe is 2km long and 1km wide. There are no cars, although it does boast a fair number of scooters which are the only taxis and freight transit around. The bright blue pavement of the main street, nicknamed “walking street”, is perfectly friendly to bare feet and most of people walking around were wearing some version of swimwear plus a light cover. Even outside the rainy season, SE Asia is subject to plenty of rain. I had arrived in sparkling sunshine, but shortly after I began to explore there was a brief but intense shower. It was strange that so many people dressed in swimsuits still ran for cover from the warm rain. I was still carrying my backpack and didn’t want every piece of clothing inside to wind up wet, so I huddled under my umbrella.

20170124_123128
Getting a SIM card on Koh Lipe was so easy and cheap I only mention it so anyone looking for advice won’t be worried. Just follow the blue street till you see a sign for SIM cards and inquire within. After getting back online, I stopped in at a cute restaurant for my first pad thai in Thailand (but not my last, I love that stuff). The rain came and went a couple more times while I was eating but finally dried up enough for me to feel safe heading out to try and find my cabin.

20170124_112933

Lipe Camping Zone

Google maps is not the most functional thing on a roadless island. It doesn’t do walking trails. Following the paved roads toward my cabin’s GPS co-ordinates took me the long way around the island. Eventually, I ran out of paved road and walked cautiously down a muddy path that had deep chasms cut by the rainwater making the walk a little more like a hike. Finally I found the campground deep in the jungle. Ok, you can’t get that deep on a 2x1km island, but it was halfway between two popular beaches on a muddy path surrounded by trees. It
felt deep in the jungle. As I stopped moving a cloud of mosquitoes descended on my sweaty ankles.

20170124_133634

20170124_144512The hostess was wonderful and kind. She brought out some repellent for me even before we finished checking in and got me settled into my cabin. Walking past the tents on the ground, I was extra glad I hadn’t made that choice given the rain. There were no real walkways in the campsite, so I was picking my way carefully down steep slopes and muddy banks. The cabin was equipped with a sort of futon on the floor, a mosquito net, and a fan. While I settled down to check the dryness of my bag and sort out my belongings, the rain began again in earnest. The path in front of my cabin turned into a river. Knowing that tropical rains are often breif, I decided to wait it out. My main activity for the day was written on my itinerary as “beach bum”, so I wasn’t in a particular rush. 

Sunset Beach

20170124_150813

When the skies finally stopped falling, it was late afternoon and I emerged from the cabin to head over to Sunset beach and find out if there was any sunset to be had. Koh Lipe is stunning. Even in the rain it is beautiful. I followed another tiny mud path to the far side of the island where I enjoyed taking gray sky pictures of the beach and mountains until the rain drove me into the shelter of a nearby cafe/bar. As I sat there enjoying my happy hour mojito and watching the rain, I was awestruck by the trees across the bay where white clouds rose from the canopy like the breath of hidden dragons. I once saw a documentary on rain-forests that explained how the moisture from a jungle would evaporate in great plumes, but this was the first time I got to see it in action. 

20170124_152609
The rain eased up, but the cloud cover prevented any sunset light from reaching the shore. When it became apparent that the night was closing in, I headed through the jungle path to back to Pataya beach. I had hoped to spend the evening on sunset beach watching the famous sunset and seeing the stars come out in a low light pollution zone, but mother nature had other plans. Despite the rain, I enjoyed my first day on Koh Lipe. I liked the cozy atmosphere of the island and the ease with which I could go from a nearly empty beach to a bright nightlife spot. I have to say that while there was no sunshine, “beach bum” accurately describes me for the day, since I spent as much time as I could in site of the shore or with my feet in the surf. I finished off at a fancy restaurant which made me really appreciate the contrast between my own accommodations and what else was available on the island.

20170124_154821

About the Accommodation

SE Asia is so cheap. So. Cheap. My cheapest room was in Ipoh and was less than 5$ (US). My average price was about 13$ per night. The cheapest thing I found on Koh Lipe (besides a tent) was cabin for 25$ a night. I looked at other places that were 5-10 times what I was paying elsewhere on the trip and went “oh no!” because somehow I lost perspective. Learn from my mistake. Spend the money. Hostels can be great, and I don’t mind shared bathroom facilities if it’s a clean place. I’ve been camping before. I’m usually ok with it. This is because I had never done so in a humid jungle before.

Did I mention I love Koh Lipe? I had a nice time in many other places on this trip, but Koh Lipe is a place I’m plotting how to get back to. One of the things I’m plotting is biting the bullet and paying for some lux accommodation. Why?

  1. Bathrooms. Most of Koh Lipe not only can’t handle paper (ok no problem. I’m used to putting my paper in the bin from China and Korea) but doesn’t even flush. Next to the toilet is a big tub of water and a ladle or small bowl that you use to transfer water from the tub into the toilet allowing gravity to swish away the waste with the added water. It’s not unusable, but getting to use the fancy toilet in the restaurant made me appreciate real plumbing. Plus, campsites or cabins with detached toilet facilities mean you have to get up and walk through mud and mosquitoes if you have to pee in the middle of the night.
  2. Mosquitoes. My cabin gave me a net, but by night two there were mosquitoes inside the net. There are fewer of the critters on the beach than the jungle, but fewer still in a solid room than a bamboo cabin.
  3. Sand. It sticks to you. You bring it home with you, and if there’s no way to rinse it off before you get in bed, or if your room is so small that bed covers ¾ of the floor, then you have a sandy bed. Ugh.
  4. Wet. It’s humid and it rains. By night two, everything in my room was damp and sandy. Having a separate space for changing out of sandy clothes and an air conditioner which dehumidifies the room are crucial to comfort.
  5. Soundproofing. Not only did I get to hear every word of the conversation my neighbors in the next cabin were having, I got to hear the guy on the other side hoarking up everything he drank that day.

Spend. The. Money. The most expensive luxury hotel on Koh Lipe is still only about 200$ a night. When you think about it like a 20$ a day backpacker, it’s impossible, but if you think of this in comparison with, say, Hawaii, it’s amazingly cheap.

Avoid the inland accommodations unless you just like jungles. They are cheaper than the beach front, but there’s reasons for that. I imagine with the right accommodation, Koh Lipe would be a 2km wide slice of heaven. Even with my cabin, it was quite possibly my favorite stop on this trip.

Cabin in the Woods: Night 2

My second night in the cabin was even worse. I had an amazing day full of snorkeling (which I will tell you all about in the next chapter) and finished off with dessert in the fancy restaurant again. When the whole day of exertion and excitement finally caught up with me, I meandered back inland to my tiny jungle hut. I couldn’t put on my shoes without the sandal straps rubbing the tender area on the top of my foot that had scraped some coral earlier in the day. My cabin had not dried out in the slightest during the day, resulting in a muggy, damp experience. While fighting to reassemble the mosquito net, I managed to spread more sand around the damp and lumpy mattress.

I also found a tiny frog and had to chase him around the bed for a while before he took off. I’m not scared of frogs, but I didn’t want to roll over on him in my sleep and hurt him. The campground shower was just enough to rinse most of the seawater out of my hair. I struggled to clean my injuries with inadequate facilities, tried unsuccessfully to sweep the sand off the damp mattress, sprayed for the mosquitoes that made it inside the net, and fantasized about staying in just about any other hotel on the island. Indeed, if I had stayed any longer on Koh Lipe, I would have booked a new place, but I decided I could rough it one more night and lulled myself to sleep with the memories of my amazing day.


The moral of this story is that Koh Lipe is a magical place, but I am not rough-it enough for jungle camping. Fortunately, there are other options for next time. And if the dour tone of the last few posts has got you down, stay tuned for Koh Lipe part 2, where I share the wonderful 4 island snorkeling trip and my first experience with glowing plankton!