You are being spoiled.

Dear reader, whoever and wherever you may be, as the title suggests I am spoiling you but I have a bit of time on my hands these days so I might as well try and catch up here.

Firstly, to rectify an omission.  I had intended to include this image and accompanying text in the previous post but I forgot, so here it is.

Guess what this is.

No prizes for guessing that this is something medical, actually I would suggest quasi-medical as it doesn't actually promote health.  This, believe it or not, is a skin whitening treatement and costs a small fortune out here which I find pretty obscene in a country where, as I mentioned before, children regularly die for want of a few pesos worth of medicine.  I'll not bore you with the story of how I came to see this, it would make your hair curl, yet many Filipinas use this rubbish to try and look white.

It has always struck me as slightly odd that white Westerners do everything they can including sunbeds and fake tan to get as brown as they can, whilst in Asia it seems to be a sign of poverty and to be avoided at all costs.  I believe the reasoning runs along the lines that if you are dark-skinned you must work in the fields and are therefore a peasant.  Why are people never happy with their lot?  Is it just something inherent in the human condition?  I really don't know.

I must say I am completely happy with my lot here and some of that is to do with the fact that I finally got to Apo Island.  If you don't know about Apo, look it up on the internet.  It is regarded as being one of the jewels in the Philippine crown not to mention a world renowned diving location.  I had been rattling on about it for a while and everyone said I really sohuld go for the day sometime as it was magnificent so that is what I determined to do.  Anna, the part time barmaid and coconut tree climber immortalised in this blog recently said she would go with me on her day off and show me round.  In truth, I think she wanted to go anyway as she told me she had not been there since she was at school.  Whatever the reason, it's always good to have a local on hand so I readily accepted.

A 15 minute ride on Suzi the Suzuki brought us to Malatapay the place of the weekly market I wrote about before.  As it wasn't Wednesday the place was a complete ghost town and I had no problem parking at the boat station.  If there is a demand, a "public" boat costing 200 pesos per person runs in the morning and returns in the afternoon.  I have noted before, however, that the tourist business here this season has been particularly bad and we had to take a private pumpboat which costs 2000 pesos for up to four passengers.  If you have a larger party a boat for up to eight costs 3000 which would work out pretty cheap.

The good ship Emerson.

The boats are assigned on a rota basis and we were assigned the good ship Emerson, named like many of them, for the captain.  And here she is.

In fairness, I mentioned the 2000 peso fare which is a little over £30 but to put it in perspective there is a crew of three and they take you over and then wait for you to return.  It is not as if they are plying back and forth all day so it is probably not too bad.  They were super friendly and it was a wonderful crossing so money well spent I think.

Lookout in the bow.

I have developed a great love for these outrigger boats which I suppose haven't changed in design much for millenia.  If you close your ears to the fairly noisy engine you could imagine being here a very long time ago.

Apo Island approaching.

I had seen Apo many times whilst travelling along the coast and knew it's outline pretty well but I must admit to having been pretty excited as it got ever closer.  The journey is only about half an hour and on a sunny day it was delightful.  Eventually we moored a few yards offshore and waded up to the beach.  There is always something appealing about wading ashore on a "desert island".  This is where we eventually made landfall.

Pretty, isn't it?

There was a small habitation seeming to consist of little but eateries and souvenir shops but first, as with everythng in the Philippines, there are "taxes" to be paid.  Off to the office where I paid 100 pesos and Anna 25, they really do like to sting foreigners here.

After that we started walking along the beach and then my guide took to the water.  Well, that is OK, I know ladies like a paddle now and again but it turned out there was method in her madness as it was the only way to get to the next bay because the tide was in.  There is no path.  A few yards on we reached a delightful secluded little beach wth a small resort and diveshop there so that was it then.  Beer o'clock and what a simply wonderful setting to have one in, Apo really is the textbook idea of a tropical island paradise.  The original plan was to carry on up the path to the lighthouse on top of the island but the path had been closed for some reason so we were sort of marooned there.  Still, worse places to be.

Philippino sea monster.

I had seen several snorkellers in the water and debated the idea but for reasons far too boring to go into, my foot was slightly swollen so I didn't reckon I could manage fins.  No problem, a swim would suffice and it turned out to be incredible.  Even without gear, I swam out a bit in some of the clearest water I have ever seen and half-submerged myself sitting on a rock whilst the most amazing fish were swimming round my feet.  It really was quite magical.

There were a few local guys around, I believe associated with the resort and it seemed they had other ideas for the piscine life in the area than marvelling at it's beauty.

Local fisherman.

Three of them set off and literally went no more than 50 yards offshore paying a net out the back.  No more than half an hour later they were back and this was the result.

Catch of the day.

Obviously these were destined for the plate but I reckon if they had a way of exporting these they could make far more money selling them to tropical fish places in Europe.

I was cajoled into posing here as if I had had something to do with the day's fishing.  Other than the fact that I had been in the water and possibly induced some sort of suicidal tendencies amongst the creatures causing them to deliberately seek out the net, I can claim no credit whatsoever.

What a poser!

Having done my best to break the lens on my camera by posing half-naked I retired for another beer to see what would happen next.  I didn't have to wait long.

Anna was right in amongst the locals and there was a flurry of activity on the beach so I went to investigate.  Anna and the ladies had gathered some bits and pieces off the beach and were preaparing a fire whilst the guys set about preparing the fish.  I swear Aldo Zilli would have had a kitten watching how they did it.  I did not see a knife or other proper utensil appear until well on in the piece.  The fish were descaled using a small pice of shell as you can see here.

Who needs a Sabatier knife?

Gutting was achieved by poking the thumb into the belly cavity of the fish and scooping out the innards.  Hi-tech food preparation it was not.  Eventually, all was ready, the fire was going and dinner was about to be cooked.

Real wild cooking.

There is nothng sophisticated about this cooking technique and I saw neither oil nor seasoning used.  The girls literally put the fish on a wire rack the provenence of which totally escapes me and cooked over the coals.  Let me tell you now it was some of the most gorgeous fish I have ever eaten.

Use what you have.

There was one further culinary treat in store as you can see pictured above.  There is a Philippino fish dish called Kinilaw which is basically raw marinated fish.  Although the knife had made an appearance by this point, the concept of using the boat oar as a chopping board whist sitting on the beach was to me the ultmate in authentic cooking.  Brilliant, absolutely brilliant.

Anther swim, a bit of an explore round the rocks in the bay and a quick walk through the "village" and all too soon it was time to get on the banqua back to the mainland.  Although I very rarely bother wearing sunglasses, I am seen here doing another bit of a pose on the boat.

Goodbye Apo, for now.

Let's look at the thing logically here.  I spent a day on a small Asian island, well I've done that before.  The weather was nice, I went for a swim and saw some tropical fish, no surpirse there.  I was invited to share freshly caught fish cooked over a fire on a beach.  Not a thing I do every day but still not the first time, yet somehow it was just a completely wonderful outing and one that will live in my memory for a very long time.  You really should have been there, dear reader.

Stay tuned.

Hello Negros.

I had left you, dear reader, on my last night on Boracay, sleeping in my friends bar due to lack of a bed and jumping off the next morning for who knows where.  Actually, I did know where.  When "planning" this trip, and I use the term loosely, I had absolutely no idea where I was going to go after Boracay.  I knew I wasn't going to go South to Mindanao as that is not a safe place at present.  I have just heard of another Australian being kidnapped and apparently they have set the ransom at $US 2 million.  Well, nobody is going to pay that kind of money for me and there is only so much rice and fish I can eat, so I'll give it a swerve.  I was bound for the wonderful island o Negros, where I still find myself today, having become somewhat marooned on a sea of travelling inertia, enjoying a wonderful and somewhat interesting lifestyle.  I shall regale you with stories of playing gigs, riding with "outlaw" bike clubs, the small matter of a 6.9 earthquake and much more besides, but all in good time.

The photo above shows my parting glimpse of Boracay, and I was sad to leave but it was a little touristy and I wanted to see new places.  I had had a great time there with the VT gang and I may well go back some time but time to go.  The VT reference leads on to where I was going.  Even before I had left UK, I had corresponded a fair amount with a VT member called Buena (VT name buenababe if you want to look her up) who was a great source of information and seemed very pleasant.  I know she may read this and I don't want to embarrass her but she is an absolute star and I am glad to have her as a friend.  Having heard of my lack of direction, both general and specific, she suggested the island of Negros was worth looking at, and specifically her home town of Bacolod.  Well, it was as good a plan as any other.

Off the banqua and onto a bus, a Ceres Liner.  Ceres are the main bus company here and they drive big yellow buses.  They are to be feared.  There is a joke that Ceres drivers are taught that if they run over someone, they should reverse to finish the job as it involves less writing and hospital costs for the company.  Well, I think it is a story but having seen them drive, I am not sure.  Have a look at the inside of the bus.  Four seats in a row are not nearly enough, so they distribute little plastic kiddie seats for people to sit in the aisle.  This is fairly standard practice throughout Southeast Asia.

A seven hour journey took me to the Souther port town of Iloilo, and try pronouncing that one!  It would have been a lot quicker but the buses stop everywhere.  There is no concept of bus stops except in the major towns where the stations is the place and people can flag down what is effectively an intercity coach wherever they want.  Here is what one of the murderous beasts looks like.

Eventually, we got to Iloilo and the bus sttion, as usual, is three days bloody camel ride from anywhere.  I am actually convinced that the siting of bus stations is controlled by the taxi / trishaw / pedicab / jeepney etc, mafias, and this is the same all over Southeast Asia.  In the absence of a local bus system, they have a captive market.  Iloilo bus station is about 6 km. from the centre.

Naturally, the drivers scented blood and swarmed about me like they usually do.  The long nse (as they call us here) means easy money and a ripoff.  The first two quoted me ridiculous amounts and were politely told where to go.  A third driver quoted a sensible price but explained in barely comprehensible English that I would have to share with two ladies whom he indicated.  No problem, I can do that.  Ten minutes were wasted whilst he tethered all our luggage to the roof with a grotty bit of twine evidently salvaged off a fishing boat.  This was totally unecessary as there was ample room for it inside.  The ladies naturally sat in the cab and I was on the rear seat, facing backwards.  Not too much headroom but not too bad.  Well, not too bad until he took off anyway.  My God, it was terrifying.  It is scary enough looking forward at where one of these phsycopaths is driving but doing it backwards is a scene from Hell.  Why do you think some of the scariest rollercoasters go backwards or in the dark.  I was hanging on for dear life but managed to snap this one image.

As you see, we are barrelling down what is meant to be the hard shoulder, strewn with parked vehicles, with the distinct possibility that anoy of the vehicles could turn left and wipe us out at any point.  A tortuous route later we arrived at a shopping centre.  Silly me, I thought that the ladies were also going to the ferry port.  Wrong.  They were going to get a shuttle bus to the airport at completely the other end of town.  Brilliant, bloody brilliant.  The last ferry goes at 1700 and irt is now gone 1600.  Another five minutes to untie the baggage and then he wheels it for the ladies into the place (obviously in search of a tip).  Back he comes, and insists on tying my one small bag on the roof again.  In the name of all that is holy, why?  There was more than enough room inside.

Indicating my watch, he shrugged and took off.  If the first half of the journey was scary, this was positively suicidal.  He clipped his wing mirror twice and never even thought about stopping.  Utter lunacy.  Somehw or another he managed to get me to the ferryport and I got my ticket etc., went through the very rigorous security and onto the boat, shown in the picture above.

Now imagine the scene.  I have been texting Buena (yes, I know, people that know me, I can actually text now!) and she had insisted on picking me up from Bacolod ferryport and had indicated we were going straight to dinner.  Well, four hours kip, ten hours on bus and sea in stinking hot conditions and the trishaw ride from Hell with all the heat and dust left me marginally short of my fragrant best.  Into the heads as I believe they are called on boats.  The thing is pitching and tossing on a fairly choppy sea and the stripwash and change of clothes was quite an operation but I managed it.

Buena, fellow VT member Gregg (Canadian guy and a really nice bloke) and Buena's mate Kenny turned up in Kenny's pickup and off we go.  We arrive at a strip of restaurants on a quiet little road and go into one.  Sure, table reserved for eight as we had more friends coming.  Great.  First thing Buena says is, "Come on, we are going to the market."  OK, so she has forgotten to buy something that day and we are not all assembled yet.  Wrong.  The next portion is a cut and paste from my VT pages as I am not going to sit and retype it.

"A two minute walk brought us to a very good fish market, which I shall deal with in a seperate tip, and she started to load up on "fruits de mer" like I have never seen. Scallops, various fish, huge prawns, minced crab meat, it was all there and I am sure I have forgotten something. As she did, she explained the principle to me. You go to market, buy what you like and the restaurant charges for cooking to your requirments and presumably making a few pesos on the drinks.  Here it is in the raw state.











I think I am right in saying that this is what the word tulahan means as all the restaurants on the strip were X,Y and Z Tulahan. I stand to be corrected if this turns out to be the area name!

The food was deposited with the chef and we sat down for a bit of conversation. This place was popular and I was glad we had the reservation. In contrast, many of the other places seemed nearly empty. I am a great believer in local knowledge and these guys really knew what they were about in picking this place.

The food began to arrive and it was truly fit for a king, brought out at reasonable intervals, but there was just so much of it. Unfortunately, the five photo rule on tips does not allow me to show you all the dishes but we feasted on the most succulent grilled prawns in sauce, minced crabmeat with a few bits and pieces mixed through and grilled scallops which were cooked to perfection. Next up was a soup particular to the Philippines which features large lumps of fish in a broth which is flavoured with a slightly sour local ingredent, the name of which I cannot now remember. Gregg wasn't so sure but I really liked it. A couple of huge tuna steaks done in a local sauce with a few onions completed the meal.

I cannot stress again how good the food was and I am guessing at prices and comparative expensiveness as Buena embarrassingly insisted on paying for all of it, so do not take these figures as accurate, I have picked the median in each case as I genuinely do not have a clue. Asking would have been hugely impolite, even from another VT member who writes tips! Also remember that you provide your own ingredients which further complicates the issue.

If you are not fortunate enough to have Philippino friends, do not be put off. I spoke to a Croatian guy who had heard about the place, asked where the market was, came back with some produce and was happily tucking in as we left."

Read more: http://members.virtualtourist.com/m/p/m/21b914/#ixzz1nZnYyzs3

Here are a few pics to give you an idea of the finished article.

 Trust me, it was every bit as good as it looks.

Tired and replete, I could have done with a sleep but the night was not yet over.  However, we have already had one power cut today so I will save this and continue shortly.  I don't want to lose 90 minutes work.  Yes, that is how long it takes me to keep you up to speed on my progress.  I just hope someone is reading it.  Please drop me a small comment if you are.