BOHOL AND SIQUIJOR

a domestic flight from Laoag to Cebu

people live off fishing or farming

all sell the same products in their sari sari, their little shop

or tinker with mopeds

working hard to earn a few pesos

we are in a luxury position

rent a scooter

visits waterfalls, chocolate hills and the tarsier reserve with the world's smallest primates

go to tulapos marine sanctuary and tubed beach

two nature reserves with white beaches and coral reefs

we buy snorkels

and float for hours in the warm sea water

in the coral gardens

between nemo`s (clownfish) and gills (bannerfish)

sharks and sea snakes

turtles and blue starfish

it is an incredibly beautiful and colourful underwater world

PALAWAN

a domestic flight from Cebu to Coron

a multi-day boat trip from Coron to El Nido

beautiful karst landscape with azure waters

walking the white beaches

snorkelling among coral reefs and shipwrecks

staying overnight on uninhabited islands

excellent food

carefree enjoyment

MANILA

a domestic flight from Puerto Princesa to Manila

the Spanish influences

rectangular city layout

palazzos

the currency, peso

the American influences

jeepneys

basketball

the language

faith

shoppingmalls

we visit intramuros, the old town and china town

and stroll through working-class neighbourhoods with narrow alleys and ramshackle houses

dominated by tricycles

and barbecued street food with delicious smoky flavour

THE FOUR-DAY HIKE THROUGH THE RICE FIELDS OF BATAD
Tuesday, 14 January from Banaue to Cambulo
We arrive in Banaue at seven in the morning after a 10-hour bus ride from Manila. We meet Magellan, with whom we have booked a three-day hike. He takes us in his tricycle to the Rice Homestay. Here we have breakfast and leave some of our luggage. Then we head towards Cambulo on a steep road, where the rear wheel sometimes slips, until landslides make it impossible to drive any further. We walk to Cambulo, a small mountain village with a few 'houses', a school with basketball court and a guesthouse. Traditional houses have pyramid-shaped roofs made of straw on stilts. Chickens and pigs live on the ground floor. The animals provide heat to the living area on the first floor. The fire in the house dries the rice, which is on the second floor. Today, houses are built of stone with corrugated iron roofs. A lot hotter in summer and the rain clatters on the tin roof. And they are ugly. The light flickers and cuts out regularly. The village's transformer is underpowered. It doesn't look like it will improve any time soon, which is too costly while electricity consumption is slowly increasing. There is no power socket in our room. In the dining hall, there is a socket full of phones being charged. There is no internet coverage. For a few pesos you have a few hours of wifi. People communicate with walky talkys, good range and much cheaper than a smartphone.

As I walk with Magellan to a viewpoint just above the village, several occasion-goers pass by with hunks of meat in a plastic bag. The occasion, is a wedding or funeral. For this, a pig or ox is slaughtered and diner is prepared for the ceremony. The meat that is left over is divided among a number of relatives of the wedding couple or the deceased. In the process, drinks flow copiously. At the vantage point where we find ourselves, a pyramid-shaped corrugated iron roof on stilts, the occasion-goers stop to chat, chew and spit for a while. Yes, you can smell it, the booze has flowed profusely. They chew a combination of mint leaf, the pulp of a nut and lime (snail shells roasted and pounded), possibly with a little tobacco, teeth turning red, they dare not smile and spit red liquid on the ground. `To warm the spirit`, from young to old they have plastic bags filled with these ingredients. Whether I want too, well no... At various places you see signs saying `no spitting here'. It turns out later that this is a custom in this region only. As a result, there is very little smoking. The men of the Igorot mountain tribe mostly have long hair and sometimes dye the ends. They have almost no beard growth but the hairs they have, they grow into long strands. On the arms and legs, they have no hair. This is probably unnecessary in this hot climate. In the evening, the youth come to give a traditional dance and song performance and we have to join in too. Eventually, some tourists are hoisted up in local dress. They play the traditional gong, which Wen says is a frying pan.

Wednesday, January 15 From Cambulo to Batad
After half a day of walking, we arrive at the Tappiyah waterfall. There we have lunch, which Magellan has been carrying in his rucksack the whole trek. The water is quite cold, but I can't stay behind when Wen sinks in, can I? Later, as we walk into Batad through the terraces, we hear the sound of the gong again. An uncle of Magellan's died 10 days ago. It's part of the ritual. He was a rich man, not because he had a lot of money but because he owned many paddy fields. He was 60 years old and drank too much. He got an infection and kept drinking with fatal consequences. The funeral is three weeks after the death. His coffin with remains will be carried to relatives in another house for a few days if desired. When Magellan dies, he does not want his body to be lugged across the paddy fields. The coffin with the deceased is laid out in a large cave. Nowadays, one may also be buried in one's own soil, if there is room for it. The uncle will be buried in his own soil. Walking out of Batad two days later, we come across two men carrying a stick on their shoulders with a pig tied upside down with its legs. For the uncle's burial. 

Thursday, 16 January Batad
We decide to stay another day in Batad and relax. After a lovely body massage in our homestay, we walk down into the village. We have a cup of coffee and enjoy the view. Weeds are pulled out of the walls and kicked into the rice fields where they compost. No chemicals are allowed because Batad's rice fields are world heritage sites. Everything is done by hand. Combined with the altitude, there can only be harvested once a year, just enough for home consumption. And last year, harvests failed because it was too dry. So there is no revenue model and the World Heritage money that becomes available disappears into the pockets of politicians. Relatives working in Manila or abroad send money. There is a migration of youth to the cities. More and more vegetables are being grown, yielding more, and rice fields are being abandoned. Maybe we were here just in time.

Friday, 17 January from Batad to Banaue
We have a beautiful walk through the jungle with steep paths, slippery roads, deep chasms and hidden rice paddies. We pass through remote mountain villages. In the Batad region, everyone is related to each other. At lunch break, Magellan isolates himself and sits down with an older man, asking for his daughter's hand. Magellan is 30 and single; he has tried three times before, but the family bond was always closer than fourth-generation cousins. Then you are gossiped about and you are likely to have babies with abnormalities. 
We walk on and the the sound of tricycles and jeepneys betray that we are getting close to civilisation. On the tarmac road, miraculously, Magellan's tricycle is waiting to take us back to our starting point in Banaue. We had a very special trek where Magellan gave us a lot of insight into the special life of his tribe.

THE RAW SIDE OF THE PHILIPPINES; COCKFIGHTING, POVERTY AND THE OPEN PRISON
Cockfighting, like bullfighting, is controversial. Yet every Sunday in Siquijor, there are a few hundred scooters at the arena`s dedicated to cockfighting. Outside, men walk to show off and you can get an impression of the fitness and strength of the roosters. The match officials tie a razor-sharp knife to one of the legs just before the fight. Two roosters are brought into the arena. Then suddenly the spectators start shouting through each other, a hellish noise. They bet money. After the bidding it becomes silent and the roosters are released. You only hear the fluttering. After 2 to 5 minutes, there is a winner. The money wagered is distributed. The winner is kitted up by the vet, the loser eaten. It is a cruel sport, but the roosters live outside, have their own little home and a better life than a breeding hen.

We visit Iwahig prison on Palawan. Well-behaved prisoners have a brown t-shirt on and walk around freely. The grounds are also freely accessible to us. The prisoner we speak to works in the souvenir shop. He has been dealing in drugs and will be released next month. His mother and sister live in Manila and have never visited him, they cannot afford the travel. Other boys have committed more serious crimes and are serving life sentences. Wen buys a bracelet they made from the spine of a snake. He enjoys an embryo egg. We turn it down, we are not raw enough....