Problem sorted (hopefully).

I have been bemoaning the appalling state of the internet connection here recently, and it really has been bad but it appears it was not so much to do with the connection as a matter of simple theft.  Someone locally (I have my suspicions who) has basically been downloading huge amounts of data by piggy-backing off the connection here and effectively stealing the bandwidth.  I have seen the printout and it is horrendous but hpefully sorted now with a change of password and so forth.

Last time I spoke of the fairly ubiquitous skill of scaling a 30 or 40 foot coconut tree in about three seconds flat to harvest buko.  This post deals with a much less common skill which is even more impressive.

I have mentioned paraws and banquas before which are two different styles of outrigger boats common all round the Pacific and constructed, to a great extent, of wood and bamboo.  The outriggers are basically held onto the hull by long pieces of bamboo which appaear, against all the laws of nature, to have 90 degree bends in them.  I had wondered how this was achieved and now I know.  Let me enlighten you.

My mate, Canadian Mike, was having a small banqua constructed and asked me one day if I fancied going a short way down the road to the barangay (district) of Sacsac to see how his bamboo outrigger poles were coming along.  Naturally, I agreed in a heartbeat.

After yet another bit of offroading on sand (I hate riding on sand) we were down by the ocean and greeted with this sight.  We had timed it nicely as there is a lot of sitting around waiting in this profession and we had caught the old guy actually bending the bamboo.

Bamboo bending, Negros.

The "old guy", who was probably a lot younger than me, was as tough as nails with not a pick of fat on him.  He was terribly friendly though and didn't seem put off by me sticking my camera all over the place, I think he found it quite amusing.

Weighting system.

The first image here shows the general principle.  The bamboo is bent using a pretty basic set of weights (rocks) and then burnt along the bend using a torch composed of dried leaves soaked in kerosene.  I thought they would have burnt out in seconds but they seemed to last pretty well.  One end of the bamboo pole is wedged in a hole dug at the base of the tree as you can see.  It is all very simple and has no doubt been done like this for years, but it does seem to work.

Dousing the flames.

When the craftsman has decided enough fire has been applied and after adjusting the weights, he takes to it with a water soaked rag on a pole as you can see in this image.

Shaving the bamboo.

When the bamboo has hung long enough to take the bend intitially, it is then moved to a wooden frame from where the young assistant takes to it and "peels" it with a very simple spokeshave type device.  It is all very labour intensive but fascinating to watch.

Bamboo drying and forming.

 After being "shaved" or "peeled" (I have heard both terms used), the bamboo is then left on another frame to take on the shape permanently.  I really have no idea how long this takes.  These are the four poles that will attach the outriggers to Mike's banqua and, as you can see, they are a lot smaller than the ones being worked on in the previous images.

The guys actually took these off as I watched and walked them up to the main road where Mike lashed them to the top of a trike and took them to his boatbuilder up near Dumaguete although why they didn't use this magnificent wheelbarrow is a mystery to me!

Wheelbarrow, Negros, Philippines.

I just could not resist taking a photo of this, it was so unusual and serves to show how absolutely nothing is wasted here.

I was so glad I got to see this process as I suppose it is a thing not many casual tourists get to see and I love observing old skills like this.  No doubt there is a machine that will do this in about half the time and far cheaper but I do like the idea of traditional crafts being kept alive either at home or overseas.

I have to dash now but as it appears the internet is sorted hopefuly I can add more posts later today.

Stay tuned.

A couple of local skills.

Ah, it never ends.  A quick look shows I am over a month behind with the blog again, so time for a little catch up, I feel.  This post is dedicated to a two local skills I have seen recently, one much more common than the other but both equally fascinating in their way.

The first is a thing I have seen often all over Asia and yet it still never cesases to amaze me although the reader may find it pretty mundane.  It is climbing coconut trees either to harvest or merely as a safety precaution.  Did you know that more people are killed annually by falling coconuts than by shark attack?  It's true, approximately 150 people per year die from being hit on the head by coconuts.  If you have ever felt the weight of one and imagine it coming down from perhaps 30 feet, it does not seem so surprising really.

Anna up the coconut tree.

Here we see Anna, an occasional barmaid in Mac's, demonstrating the skill.  We had been teasing her for ages about this and one day she was suitably attired so we dared her to go up the tree.  When I say suitably attired, let's be honest, you wouldn't want to do this in a skirt, would you?  So how exactly does she do it?  From a distance you would swear she was literally just shinning up the tree but a closer inspection reveals the trick.

Someone takes a bolo (machete) and makes a small notch in the trunk, perhaps two inches deep.  You don't want to cut too deep as it affects the tree's growth.  Standing one footed on that "step" they then cut another one on the other side slightly higher up and so on until they have a sort of ladder all the way to the top.

Clearing the deadwood.

Honestly, to watch people flying up these things is an education.  I tried a couple of steps and nearly cut the feet off myself, it is really painful.  Coconut farmers must have feet like leather.  In this image you can just see the tip of the bolo by Anna's left knee which means she is holding herself up there effectively by her left foot and a hand holding a machete and all this about 30 feet off the ground.  With her "free" hand, she is clearing the dead leaves prior to hacking off a few buko (unripe coconuts) for us.

Crack that buko.

Once back on the ground and with several buko harvested, Anna proceeded to give us a demonstration of machete work that would have done credit to the most crazed axe-murderer in the world.  About three swipes and she had the top off it and we were drinking fresh buko juice, which is absolutely gorgeous.  For those of you reading in the West, this is not the thick white stuff that is marketed in tins as coconut milk, that is a different product.  Buko milk looks like water and tastes beautiful, very refreshing.  Chilled down in a glass as shown below, it really is a treat.

Buko juice.

  I did hear a story although like many of these things, I have no idea how true it is.  It is said that during the Second World War, if American / Philippino medics ran out os saline solution to put in drips for wounded men, they just put buko juice straight into the IV.  Not only does it have nutrients but it is apparently completely sterile when it comes out of the shell.  I am not sure I wiuld want it done on me but it sounds feasible at least.

I know this is going to sound a bit like a broken record but yet again this website / internet connection has failed me miserably so I will post this and tell you about the other wonderfully interesting skill later.

Stay tuned.

Right, here we are again, hopefully with this appalling site working.  I really am going to get a new blog site next trip.

I'll repost the image from the last effort.

We're back to Genghis.

I'll once again let my Virtual Tourist page serve here.

"At time of writing (mid April 2012) I have been hanging around Dumaguete City for about two and a half months and thought I knew the place pretty well. I am always banging on here about taking advice from locals and the advice in this case came from an expat of long-standing if not actually a Filipino. Whilst discussing restaurant options in town, he seemed genuinely surprised when I said I had not eaten in Kri restaurant or indeed even heard of it. Armed with good directions, I set out last night to remedy the deficiency in my gastronomic repertoire and was hugely pleased with the results. I suppose this vindicates my theory about local knowledge even as it blows my belief in finding the best places clean out of the water.

I was greeted immediately and courteously at the door by a young waitress who was later to serve me and thought the place looked a bit empty. It was only later whilst using the facilities that I dscovered there is a much larger dining area to the rear of the premises. I was very happy with the modern, fairly minimalist surroundings where I was.

It was obvious from the off that this was a "classy" joint by local standards. The glass of iced water produced immediately and the frosted glass for the beer whilst perusing the menu reinforced this impression. The crudites (pictured) certainly got the digestive juices flowing. Be aware though that they are fairly liberally laced with chilli, just the way I like it but not perhaps to everyone's taste. I did look at the wine list (I am not really a wine drinker) and it looked quite extensve by local standards, including Spanish bottles at about 1250 pesos.

I had been recommended the blue cheese and truffle (yes, you read that right) burger with what are apparently excellent French fries but my eye was caught by the Genghis Khan beef. I enquired of the waitress what that might be. Pieces of tenderloin served in a slightly spicy sauce. That sounded OK up to a point so I enquired would it be possible to have it served really spicy, along with the usual SE Asian pantomime of telling her that she wasn't going to kill me and no, I wasn't going to sue them if they burnt my mouth off. Really, I know people mean well but it is very difficult to get really spicy food in a restaurant in this area as a Westerner unless you insist and make a point of it.

A wait just long enough to indicate the dish was freshly prepared but not long enough to be a cause for complaint brought the absolute delight you can see pictrured and chef (of which more later) had produced exactly what I wanted. The beef was tender to a fault and the sauce was obviously ramped up a notch or two as they would probably not have served it this hot normally. Whilst it carried the heat I was lookng for, it did not overpower the other tastes of the sauce (I am guessing soy, honey, chilli here). The plain rice served as part of the dish was ample, although they have various other rices (garlic etc.) should you wish.

A little internet research shws that the chef patron here is a guy called Ritchie Armogenia, and I know his family is responsible for the Azalea resort on the road up to Twin Lakes as well. Chef, I was informed, was in Cebu on business but I would like to meet the guy some day and shake his hand. Whlst going to the spotless, if slightly distant, facilities I had a chance to scan the open kitchen, always a good sign in my book. None of the staff looked over about 22 years of age and if Mr. Armogenia has them this well trained, he gets my vote.

I realise that it is ridiculous to make such comparisons but I would happily have paid three times the paltry 250 or so pesos I paid for this meal. In an ideal and imaginary world, I would love to drop a Michelin Guide inspector here with the windows blacked out so he didn't know where he was. Food, service and ambience would gain it, if not a star, at least some sort of honourable mention. I know this all sounds like hyperbole, it is not. This place really is on the money."

So now you know.  Think I might head back there tonight if it doesn't hack it down with rain.

It doesn't look like much now.

 This is an incredible place.  A guy I know and have incidentally just been chatting to is an American called Gary from Oregon.  He is some sort of preacher, I am not sure what particular branch of Christianity he subscribes to but he is a nice guy and his Filipina wife of 27 years is delightful.  After yet another pretty hairy off-road ride we arrived at what can only be described as a compound.  It is certainly nowhere nearly finished but it is the basis of some sort of eco-farm place.  He has over 4 hectares there.  Don't ask me what that is in proper measurements but having had a guided tour it is an impressive spread. 

Gary has large stands of bamboo, various hardwoods, three tilapia (fish) ponds at various stages of maturity, a byre for beasts, carabou (buffalo), raised vegetable gardens, a pretty scary guard dog and the best treehouse I have ever seen.

What he also has and you see above, is the beginnings of what is going to be a Church / community Hall for the local barangay (district).  It is very impressive and I have promised to go and give him a hand sorting out his PA.

I do have serious reservations about missionary work, probably best not gone into here.

The stage.

It is going to be a very impressive place when it is finished.   It is absolutely huge, I reckon it will seat about 500 when it eventually opens.

View from the prospective soundbox.

The motorbikes give you a sense of perspective here.  I can tell you I have played in pubs that were smaller than this stage.  I'm not joking!  Anyone remember the Greenwich Inn in London?

Gary amongst the flowers.

Here is Gary standing amongst some flowers which frankly don't look like a whole lot.  Apparently when night falls they come to life, look a whole lot better and give off the most beautiful scent.  I am seriously not going to ride that road in the dark so I'll have to take his word for it.

The treehouse.

As I mentioned, Gary lives in a treehouse, yes really, and this is it, quite one of the most impressive structures I have ever seen.  Obviously the outside needs a bit of finishing but it really is the most incredible structure inside with three floors, three bedrooms and two bathrooms and all topped off with a crow's nest some 40 odd feet above the ground offering the most wonderful views one way over Siquijor and Apo and inland over Mt. Talinis the other.  And yes, the tree really does run up through the middle of it, I have never seen the like of it, it is something an interior designer could not even dream of.

I know I promised you a few other little things but time has yet again caught up with me, so they will have to wait for next time.

Stay tuned.

Well, I promised you a few titbits last time so now, yet again waiting for the inevitable rain to tip down (it has been really sticky today and thunder already) I had better just sit here and give you a few more musings about life in the tropics.

Perhaps I have been here too long.

I arose one day to go for morning coffee and catch up on the internet ,as is my wont and I found myself confronted with this.  Mac had decided to designate my own chair for reasons best known to himself.  I suspect a little too much St. George whisky might have had some bearing on the matter.  The relevance of the handcuffs is as yet unclear to me and Mac, even in his moments of lucidity, has yet to offer a reasonable explanation.  We'll let it pass but this was here for a couple of weeks.  Well, it meant I always had a seat.

The mighty calamansi.

A total digression here.  Apart from the weather (temporarily suspended), scenery, culture, people, food and lots of other things my favourite thing in the Philippines is this little beauty.  It is called a calamansi and is very, very popular here.  It forms a part of the sauces that you make yourself in restaurants with varying combinations of chilli vinegar, soy sauce, sesame oil, hot sauce and calamansi.  It is also used to squeeze over the various barbecued meats and just cuts through the slightly fatty content beautifully. 

So what is is?  Well, most people describe it as a small lime and lacking  a better description that is not a bad way to put it.  The flavour is not as sharp as a lime as we would know it in UK.  I would say it was somewhere between a lime and a lemon.  I love the things.  I have saved it's best use for last, though.  In the same way as Mexicans put a slice of lime into the neck of a Sol or Corona beer bottle, so the inclusion of a piece of calamansi into a bottle of San Miguel Light improves it's flavour dramatically.  Lets' be honest, it is lager which I wouldn't countenance drinking in UK so anything would be an improvement.

I really wish there was some way of bringing a calamansi tree back to UK, I could make a fortune at it.

Here is another random image for you, again food related and yet again I have to report that this damned site is messing me about so anything could happen here.  Damn this site to Hell, I am going to have to publish this as is and continue it immediately.  Sprry folks, stay tuned.

Genghis would be proud.

Despite my best efforts to kee this strictly chronological, I am going to have to regress a day or two here to include some images I want to share with you.

This was a bridge once.

I have mentioned before about the complete havoc that Typhoon Sendong wrought here.  It is almost impossible to ride in the interior without having to detour, ford rivers or simply turn back.  I know good efforts are being made in some places, usually with an economic imperative llike the geothermal power station.  In this part of the world Bob Dylan's excellent old lyric, "Money doesn't talk, it swears" rings truer than ever.  Frankly, the poor can go to Hell as far as the authorities are concerned.  As long as the important commercial interests are met, that is all that matters, and the whole thing lubricated by bribes and expensive lunches in Casablanca.  I am in imminent danger of becoming a Socialist here which is definitely not my political stance at all.

Look at this image, taken from where one of the bridges up past Valencia had been wiped out.  I saw the remnants of it lying some distance down the river.  It is not obvious here but it was about a 10 feet drop to the river.  So, I have two options, I can either turn back or I can assess the situation.  This is now like one of those initiative tests they give to Army officer recruits.  What do you do, dear reader?  Time is not an issue here, you have at least two hours befo9re nightfall.

I'll tell you what I did.  Firstly, I watched.  I watched until three different riders had forded the river taking a line I really would not have picked, it looked to be the fastest flowig part. 

Good way to wash a bike.

 Secondly, speaking not a word of Visayan and using only sign language I contacted the group of young men on the opposite remnant of the bridge.  They indicated the exact route as taken by the riders I had watched and indicated it safe.  Incidentally, if you are wondering about the bike in the background and the small portion of front wheel you can see on the extreme upper right, the locals come here to wash their bikes.  Simple.

OK, I retraced my route a little from the vantage point I had, took a deep breath and drove in to the general encouragement and directional assistance of the locals.  I am sure they wanted to see me going base over apex but they didn't send me into what were obviously more tricky waters.  I was revving like Hell in first to keep the water out of the exhaust which is fatal.  Bless her, Suzi never faltered although I did give her a fairly rough old ride through there.  Suzi, as I mentioned, is a very faithful friend and never lets me down.  I hammered up the far side with wet legs and a great sense of achievement, waved my thanks to the smiling locals, checked my brakes and made my way on quite happily.

I know this is hardly Ewan McGregor and Charlie Boorman "Long Way Round" stuff, but it made me feel good and I didn't have the backng of a large and well-funded UK film crew.  Just another little victory and further evidence of a couple of theories of mine that I have probably bored you with before.  Trust locals, they are generally on your side and secondly, don't be worried about having a go at something.  OK, don't be stupid but if you think you have the necessary skills, give it a run.  It makes you feel really good, believe me.

I know this is a small aside but I just fancied posting this.  In the next episodes we'll have coconut harvesting by the positively simian WokWok, a halfbuilt Church halfway to nowhere, some more balot action and your humble narrator not only gets his fingernail (singular) painted but his beard straightened.  I'm sure you can't wait!

Stay tuned.

I had promised you the day out to Tambobo Bay and here it is.  A few of my friends had decided that we should all head up there one day and invited me to join them.  Big John and his girlfriend Jurri, Dave and his wife, Canadian Mike and myself all paraded fairly early in Mac's one gloriously sunny morning for the ride.  OK, this is not big bike stuff, the largest bike was 200cc and I was on the smallest, the wonderfully faithful Suzi at 125.  She was also the only road bike but I was confident in her ability to negotiate the off road I had been promised.  I had had her in a few rough places before and knew she would be sound.  Suzi has never let me down yet!

Suzi in the sunshine.

This was a picture taken earlier and I am not sure if I have previously posted it.  If so, I apologise but I really am rather attached to Suzi after all this time.

Anyway, off we took in convoy, nice and steady.  I know this is going to sound faintly ridiculous but there is something hugely satisfying about riding in a group, albeit on silly little bikes, with the wind in your hair in blazing sunshine.  Yes, I know a helmet is a good idea but it just doesn't happen here.  It took me back to my days as a much younger man when I used to ride with the long defunct Eagle MCC in Belfast.  At least the weather here is a damn sight better.

Baboy's Bad Boys MC.

After an uneventful and pleasant cruise along the National Highway, we took offroad a bit.  Here we are stopping to get bearings.  Interesting thing to note here is Dave's wife with the towel over her head, this is common practice here.  In the same way as tourists come here hell-bent on getting brown, Philippinos seem equally determined to stay out of the sun.  I have noticed this all over Asia.  For example in Burma people, especially women, apply a white paste to their exposed skin.  It is made form a tree bark and acts like about a factor 40 sunblock.  This is not all so daft as it sounds, like most things in Asia.

The logic runs thus.  If you are dark-skinned, it means you are always out in the sun, ergo a peasant and of percieved lower social standing because the chances are that you are poor and have to work in the fields.  You will regularly see Asians covering their head with a newspaper, magazine or whatever is to hand.  This is all well and good but when you see a scooter coming towards you at whatever speed it can muster (nobody drives slowly here) with the rider controlling the machine one-handed and using the other to cover their head with a handbag, book or whatever else, it is time to sound the alarm.  Another frequent practice is for the backrider to have an open umbrella covering both rider's heads.  A European traffic cop would have a field day here.  I swear I am not making this up, let's be honest, you couldn't.

Along we went and eventually got our first glimpse of Tambobo Bay which was every bit as beautiful as I had been led to believe.  There are a number of sailboats anchored in there and it provides one of very few anchoraqges in the region that offers decent protection from the regular typhoons.  It used to be a favourite haunt of pirates and it doesn't take too much imagination to see the odd plunder-laden galleon riding a storm out at anchor here.

Tambobo Bay, Negros Oriental.

We still had a little further to go, however, along a pretty treacherous road until we got to our destination, which does have a proper name (Tongo Sail Club if you want to Google it) but is locally known as Nigel's place.

Nigel's place, Tambobo Bay.

Nigel is an Australian, a boatbuilder by trade who has found himself somewhat washed ashore here with his Filipina wife and has started this place as well as his nearby boatyard.  Apart from the obvious natural attraction of the place, which has "tropical paradise" written all over it, it is a really quirky sort of an operation and the kind of place I could see myself hanging out.  If you can find a member of staff, and there are one or two about, they will serve you your first drink but after that it is an honour bar system and you just write your own bill and settle up at the end.  Here are the boys enjoying a beer.

The sadly demised Naiche.

Obviusly, we couldn't drink much, having to ride home, so we contented ourselves with the view and the weather.  The centrepiece, if you could call it that, is Naiche which is registered in Fremantle, Western Australia and which he sailed here.  It has seen much better days and frankly I wouldn't fancy it's chances in the Serpentine on a flat calm  August day now, it is rotted beyond redemption.  Shame really.

Should you fancy it, there is also a wonderful treehouse to chill out in.

Nigel's treehouse.

Go on admit it, I am making you jealous, aren't I?

I am not a great fan of sea aswimming but the lure of this place got the better of me and so, begging the ladies permission and lacking proper trunks, I just stripped off to my underwear and waded in.  It was beautifull and I sort of basked like some sort of very white sealion on the small breakwater that protects the beach here.  Quite utterly perfect.

Big John, Mike and Dave enjoying a beer.

Nigel's place hides a little secret, however.  Apart from being the idyllic place that it is, he is also putting something back and funds a local volunteer unit of the Coastguard.  In a nation comprising over 7,000 islands, the Coastguard is a hugely important organisation and has many volunteer stations.

Home of the 204th "A" Squadron.

Nigel's wife is actually the station commander.  I am not sure how many vessels they command, I certainly didn't see any, they may have been moored in the bay, but I have seen quite a few volunteer Coastguard in uniform around Dumaguete.

Big John checks the machines.

Eventually it was time to regretfully leave such a wonderful place as we didn't fancy the road back in the dark.  Canadian Mike had already left as he had things to attend to, being in the process of buildng a bamboo house and being completely dependent on local craftsmen who, whilst excellent at what they do, are not renowned for delivering on time.  Everything seems to be a problem and he got a call so he had to run. 

John and Dave both knew the route and I had made a point of remembering it.  It was a shame actually as we decided to go back the same way we had come and I had really looked forward to riding the delightfully named Old Spanish Road.  I just thought that was a terribly atmospheric name.  It is probably just a crappy unpaved Pinoy road but it sounded nice and was another thing to see.  Not to worry, I am going on the road again soon and will maybe run down it.  We had a quick pitstop at a lovely beach to stretch the legs and here is where we stopped.

We all made it back in good order and it was a great day out which I won't forget in a long time.  OK, proper bikers will laugh at this but leave us alone, will you?  We had a lovely day out on little runaround bikes in glorious weather at a place I think you will agree is beautiful and we all came home happy.   In fairness, the proper big bikers here are, as I have mentioned, a very generous bunch and would have appreciated the ride.  Hopefully we might all get it together again, I believe the sandbar near Bais City has been mentioned for a run.

Seems like an appropriate place to break here, so I will.

Stay tuned.

Well folks, looks like you are stuck with some more of my inane drivel, rain havng very much stopped play here.  It is not so much raining cats and dogs as chucking a complete bloody menagerie from the Heavens.  I'll swear I just saw an armadillo bounce off the concrete but it was immediately washed away by the floodwater that now seems to be engulfing Negros.  When I'm in Europe, I always seem to forget just how hard it can rain in the tropics and we are being "treated" to an absolutely prime example here tonight.  Best, I think, if I duck down here and try to gainfully employ myself by boring you.

The ice-cream man.

Let's start with a completely random image here.  This poor little sod pedals his bike up and down the National Hghway every day in punishing heat playing probably the most irritating two bar jingle I have ever heard.  I am quite convinced that continuous playing of that to prisoners of war would be contrary to the Geneva Convention.  In fairness to him, he does have some very tasty ice cream.

The masses at prayer,

In my attempt to keep things chronological and not miss anything, we have come now to Holy Week, or Semana Santa as it is known here, another nod to the Spanish colonial influence.  As in the Orthodox Church, Easter is a much bigger deal than Christmas and it is absolutely huge here in the Philippines where the Roman Catholic Church claims more than 80% of the population.  Most of the remaining 20% are Muslims, mostly centred in Mindanao just South of here.  I have met guys who have travelled there and tell me it is possibly the most beautiful place on Earth but it is also a place of kidnappings and bombings.  I lived in Belfast in the 1970's and have had more than my fair share of bombs, so I'll give it a miss for now, much as I would love to go.  Abu Sayyaf will just have to wait.

Now I have more reason than most to dislike religious intolerance and I would never tell anyone how to worship but I saw an interesting thing on CNN here today which is featuring the Philippines for a week.  Immediately after intervieweing a young woman who had just gven birth to her ninth child in what can only be described as very primitive hospital conditions, we had the thoughts of a senior member of the CBC (Catholic Bishops Conference). Interviewed in his lavishly decorated Church he was equating contraception to abortion and assuring us that the introduction of the controversial RH (Reproductive Health) Bill would lead to the moral bankruptcy of the country.  Basically the RH Bill, which is effectively dead in the water anyway due to Church influence, wants to make contraception widely avilable in a country with about 100 million people and one of the highest birthrates in Asia.  Of course, contraception is available if you can afford it so the rich are OK but what of the poor?  Well, they just go to Church and pay the priest to baptise the umpteenth unwanted child.  Such is life here.  I shall let the reader decide where the morality lies.

The image above is of the masses wrshipping on Easter Sunday in Valencia.  There were so many people that they were standing in the street listening to the service relayed on loudspeakers.

Stations of the Cross.

Not wishing to hang about and intrude, I took off to the country and was struck by the number of things like this that I saw.  Basically every village and hamlet erects the stations of the cross around the place and the people walk around them making their religious devotions. 
Some are quite simple like this and others very ornate.  It is an interesting thing to see.

I think I will leave it here as I want to make a seperate post about the wonderful day we had out in Tambobo Bay.

Stay tuned.