Project BORNEO - Arkitrek

Christmas on Bantanyan Island

VOLUNTEERING IN THE PHILIPPINES

Surviving Manila Madness

When I first came out here I hadn’t really thought about where and what I would do for Christmas I figured just being in a hot climate over that period would be celebration enough even if it meant a Christmas dinner for one. However (before the tissues come out) that wasn’t to be the case as one of the interns i met came across an article in a magazine about a group of tour guides from northern Korea who in response to the typhoon Hayain which tore through the Philippines had put together a small Posey to go and help in the relief work and were looking for volunteers to aid them in this. Their destination, a small island off the northern tip of Cebu in the Viyasas called Bantanyan. So after little to no deliberation I decide that not only would this opportunity allow me to experience somewhere new on a non tourist basis but more importantly it meant I could use my Christmas break more constructively and do my little bit to help the people of the Philippines and specifically those of this small island after such a devastating natural disaster. So along with three other interns we hit the road for Bantanyan but with a pit stop in Manila.

In hindsight we should have probably completely bypassed Manila for reasons I will shortly explain, but we wanted to have some down time before the hard graft plus I wanted to visit a friend living there. We arrived at the domestic airport which is a pretty horrible airport and none of us had any peso for a taxi so I went to get some. I asked one of the security guards where the nearest bank was and he directed me to the terminal building. When I arrived there was a large container with a sign above it saying “Please deposit firearms in here before entering terminal building”. This is the point when i actually noticed that every security guard and policeman was equipped with a hand gun, some even with additional shot guns obviously for those passengers whose hand luggage didn’t comply with the required dimensions. If that wasn’t unsettling enough we then had to get into a cab and drive through what looked like one of the roughest parts of town knowing that probably everyone (even the 10 year old street kids) was packing heat and looking for an easy lunch. It didn’t further help when the taxi driver (none of whom it transpires know where the hell they are going) decided to take the back allies into town and with the crazy traffic, required us remaining stationery for long periods of time. Now when one of your first experiences in a country is that of a street kid gesturing shooting you with his fingers while you’re stuck in traffic down some back ally you have to wonder whether you made the right decision in coming to said country. The journey took half an hour and i have to say at points I thought we were going to be car jacked and I spent most of the journey trying to calculate the chances of survival and whether throwing the taxi driver at the jackers would increase those chances. When said clueless taxi driver eventually got us to the hostel I’ve never been so happy and thankful to get out of a taxi in my life. Unfortunately for me this was not the end but only the beginning of my “experiences” with the Manila traffic and its clueless taxi drivers.

We had planned to meet up with Kath and Bill that night for a few drinks so after checking into the Pink Manila (our hostel) Kate and I headed off and left the boys as they were feeling a little under the weather. After spending at least half an hour trying to flag down a cab we finally reached our meeting point with Kath and Bill two much to our relief and set about forgetting the entire day. The night started off relatively tame and respectful as we tried out the local popular nightspots but things soon changed when the young innocent Kath suggested we try another haunt she had frequented for a change in ambience. Now I’ve known Kath for a long time and I never know what to expect with her as she has taken me to some weird and wonderful places in the past so it was no real surprise when we ended up in the red-light district. The place was very different to where we had been as you can imagine and let’s just say the dress code was extremely casual to the point of nonexistent and to top it all off the highlight of the evening was midget boxing. Yep that’s right two small people with very large gloves (or they may have been normal size) beating several barrels of crap out of each other. It was quite a surreal experience (never having seen midget boxing) and these guys weren’t messing around. At one point they even got a member of the audience to take on two midgets at the same time, let your imagination run with that. The rest of them including the compaire were trying to get me into the ring but after seeing what those little guys did to the previous contestant I was having none of it. Boxing!?!?! It was more like cage fighting with two monkeys. We stayed there for a few bouts but it was over all too soon and before long they brought back the regular entertainment for the rest of the evening and I have to say watching two semi-clad ladies wrestling didn’t quite have the same wow factor but out of politeness we were obliged to watch.

The Manila Skyline

The next day after an interesting night out with Kath and co I was due to catch a flight to Cebu then onto Bantanyan while the youths (Kate, Simon and John, all of whom are about 10 years younger than me) had decided they wanted more of an adventurous experience and so decided to take a 22 hour ferry to Cebu where I was to meet them the next day. Now I had contemplated joining them on the 22 hour ferry ride for all of 2 seconds when it was suggested a couple of weeks earlier but had decided against it because it was a 22 hour ferry ride!!!! Instead (probably due to my superior years) I had opted for the 1 hour plane ride. So that morning I wished them farewell as they slinked away at 6.00am to go and catch there luxury cruise. I slept in for another 4 hours before checking out of the Pink Manila and heading to Kath’s joint to drop of some gear before going to the airport. Now what none of us had factored in (the youths and I) when we planned this trip was Christmas time in Manila and the chaos that ensued. It wasn’t long before we discovered it is by far the worst time of the year to travel here. Why?? Simply because every man, his wife, dog, cat, horse, gerbil and extended family of four generations descend on Manila like a plague increasing the already crazy traffic to biblical proportions and I’m being conservative in my description. This first became apparent when during breakfast at the Pink Manila I turned around to see the Youths walking towards me. When I asked them why they weren’t sitting on the ferry sipping cocktails on the way to Cebu city they told me that they had arrived at the ferry terminal to find that evidently most of Manila was trying to get a ferry and they’d spent two hours trying to get into the queue for the queue to find out where they queue for the tickets were and so had given up. They then decided that maybe the flight might be the better option and were off to go buy tickets. This was all very disconcerting but I already had a ticket so figured I had nothing to worry about. An hour later they were back again with no tickets looking somewhat perturbed as all the flights were full and they were told to head to the airport and try their luck there. This was the point where we departed paths and the last time I would see them for four days.

Having already experienced the traffic on the journey from the airport when it was time to leave I had given myself an extra hour to undertake what would usually be a 15 minute journey (I duly discovered on my later return to Manila). I even managed to flag a taxi down within a couple of minutes of hitting the streets from Kath’s place which I had given myself an extra 15 minutes for. This is about the time things started to go south. First it took me 10mins to explain to the guy I needed to go the airport Terminal 4 domestic for which he heard as terminal 2 (which doesn’t exist) and instead of admitting he had no idea what I was saying (like others have done) he just drove on. Within two minutes we hit traffic and proceeded to go at a snail’s pace for 45mins until we drew near to the airport and I realised he was going to the wrong terminal. I then began the arduous task of trying to point this out to him again but this time he seemed to get it and set off in the right direction where we hit more traffic. Now there is only a 10 min drive between these terminals but it so they wouldn’t let me on the flight. To say my blood was close to boiling point would be an understatement but given that the all the security guards were walking around with large guns i decided against showing it. I also found out later on that part of the reason there was so much traffic was because the main terminal building had been sealed off due to the mayor of Zamboanga (the troubled state in the south) and his entire family having been shot dead there earlier that day, which was a bit of a shock given I’d just come through there at around that time. Needless to say I had to reschedule and I was stuck in Manila for another 2 days before I could get another flight out.

My original plan was to take my time getting to Bantanyan by spending a night in Cebu then getting the early bus and ferry the next day to get me into Bantanyan at midday. However due to the Manila traffic and brainless taxi drivers I’d lost a day so I decided, when I eventually got out of there, to do the whole journey in one day and bypass Cebu altogether. So on arriving to Cebu I got off the plane and straight onto a bus north which in true local bus style was delayed for an hour and half while the driver waxed his head or whatever the hell he was doing. In fact there was almost a riot on the bus before he decided it might be time to go. The journey took slighter longer than expected just because and we eventually arrived at the ferry port in pitch darkness 15mins before the last ferry to island was due to leave. At this point I started wondering whether someone was watching over me as if I’d missed that ferry I would have been stuck at a ferry port with no visible accommodation, with some dubious looking characters hanging around. In fact I don’t whether there was anything else there but a ferry port as I did no research on the place. I need not have worried as once again we sat there for a further 45 mins before it left. By the time I reached the island it was now 7.00pm and even darker or at least it seemed that way. Street lights were not a major island feature, so with just a head torch I started walking up a random palm tree lined road in the general direction I was told the YPDR base camp was. I’d been walking for about 15mins when I began to wonder whether I was even on the right island let alone road when one of the camp leaders almost ran into me on his bike. He obviously recognised that I must be looking for them (as most of the westerners on the island were connected with some relief group) and directed me straight base which i had pretty much arrived at but not noticed due to the darkness. By this point I was pretty buggered so I didn’t hang around long, was introduced to a few people who I immediately forgot before I was shown to a tent on the beach (as mine was with the youths) where I promptly passed out.

Base Camp

YPDR: Young Pioneers Disaster Response

So who are the YPDR?? Well they’re a group of tour guides that worked for a company called Young Pioneer Tours based in North Korea who when they heard about the devastation caused by Typhoon Hayain in the Philippines decided to use their free time to help in the relief effect. So they formed an aid group called the YPDR and set off to help in one of the worst hit areas, an island off the Northern Coast of Cebu. They’d only been on the island for a month when we arrived and had set up base camp in a house loaned to them by one of the wealthier members of the local community. I was quite surprised that they were such a new organisation with no past experience as they were very well organised and had a well structured response to the relief work that gave the impression they’d been doing this for years. Quite a feat when you consider that volunteers were coming in and out on a daily basis. Like I said before my decision to go to Bantanyan was very last minute so when I arrived I really didn’t know what to expect. What I found was extensive devastation with a large percentage of the islands buildings (most of which were timber) having destroyed or in ruins including many of the island schools. And it was this that geared the formation of YPDR and brought me to the island, the rebuilding of these schools.

The next day when I eventually woke up I found myself on a gorgeous beach surrounded by azure waters and of course the odd palm tree. At breakfast I was reintroduced to the YPDR leaders and the other volunteers and given the full orientation, which I had been given briefly the night before but none of it had gone in. I spent the next two days acquainting myself with the other volunteers, enjoying the beach and finding out what YPDR did. I was so engrossed in what we were doing that I almost forgot that I had 3 other travel companions who after three days still hadn’t turned up and I began to worry. It wasn’t until the following day again during breakfast that they finally showed up with extreme looks of relief on the faces and clearly tied from their ordeal whatever that happened to be. When I asked them about it the story they told made me both cringe and bend over in laughter as it seems they got the adventure they wanted but maybe not quite in the way the expected.

When they left me in Manila they turned up at the airport and waited for the first flight anyway (for about 7 hours) which happened to be a flight to Kalibo and then head to Borocay where they decided to chill out for a day. They then got on a bus and made their way down the island of Negros to random towns along the coast asking whether anyone knew how to get to the island of Bantanyan, which it seemed nobody did even the tour companies. After spending another night in one of these towns they carried on south to the southern tip of the island in a desperate attempt to find someone who knew where Bantanyan was and transport to take them there. On arrival they were told that the only mode of public transport to the island was a ferry that had been taken out by the Typhoon and was no longer running so they decided the best course of action would be to thumb a lift from a local fisherman. So at about 3.00 in the afternoon they all piled onto a 10 foot fishing boat with the local fisherman and his crew (none of whom Knew a word of English) and headed off into the South China Sea in search of Bantanyan. At some point on the journey it became apparent that the fisherman actually had no idea as to where this island was (even though they said they did) and it was now beginning to get dark. Subsequently they then spent the next 8 hours bobbing about on the South China Sea in total darkness with nothing more than head torches for light asking directions from random fishing boats as to the location of their destination. I can’t even imagine what scenarios must have been playing out in their heads as they were floating around in pitch darkness lost in the South China Sea. They did however eventually find land which happened to be the northern tip of Bantanyan Island at about 11.00pm near the main town where they managed to find transport to bring them to base camp and the end of their ordeal. Putting up the tent in pitch darkness and fatigued must have felt like a treat in comparison but was probably short lived once they realised that once again they would have to huddle up together in a confined space but this time every night for 5 days. I would like to believe that the whole experience brought them closer and so they were able to put up with each other in the same tent for the rest of the week, because for me that is probably the last place I would have wanted to be after that experience.

Constructing The New Housing Unit

THe Hired Help

It took a day or so for us to settle in and to get used to the system that had been set up by the lead members. It was structured in that we were split up in various groups (each headed by one of the original founders) and each group was given a different task to perform at various locations on the island on a daily basis. This ranged from rebuilding the home of our cook who had taken the mother figure role of the group to implementing a new temporary housing scheme designed for those whose homes had been completely destroyed. As an architect this was a very fulfilling experience as it meant I could utilize my training for reasons other than to make money by advising on ways to improve and implement better methods of construction in such conditions plus learning a few myself. One of the fledging projects I was lucky enough to be involved in was a proposal to use shipping containers to rebuild classroom units, which YPDR at the time were putting forward as a prototype to use throughout the island and on various other building types. Their idea was further strengthened by the fact that the only buildings on the island that survived the typhoon were the beach bungalows of a holiday resort all made out of shipping containers anchored to the ground with cement foundations. Their only issue being making it financially viable and affordable, which at the time was becoming less and less of an problem as they began receiving more & more international support as word about the work they were doing spread. This particular project I intend to keep an eye on as the opportunities here are self evident for a country that gets major typhoons every year.

I spent the remainder of my time helping to clear up debris from devastated schools, painting new classrooms and helping a local community of kids north of the island to clear up the beach they played on everyday which was littered with debris. This by far was one of the most fulfilling as well the saddest experiences I had on the island. On command from our leader we dropped tools one day potentially Boxing Day and the whole compliment of YPDR volunteers piled into the trucks and headed up north to this little remote beach community. The previous day Chris (one of the group leaders) had gone on one of his usual reckies and on his journey had noticed a sign saying “please Americans help us” which after investigations it transpired that it was a desperate plea for help from the kids of this community regarding the state of their beach. As you can imagine it would take a hardnosed individual not to be touched by this especially with the added fact that he is American and not to act would be a slight on the red, white and blue. Needless to say because of this and even before meeting the kids he decided that the group would do something about it. The saddest part was that when we arrived the first thing we noticed was that the kids outnumbered the adults by quite a lot. It turned out that many of them had lost their parents in the typhoon and were now being looked after relatives or whoever was able. Even so I cannot begin to describe the level of enthusiasm and joy they had when we arrived and maintained throughout the day as we went about helping them clean their beach. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose your parents at that age but these kids on the surface seemed to deal with it extremely well, but then again it was hard to judge that based on one day. What was obvious though was they truly appreciated us coming up to help them and showed it and there was even time play at the end or should I say for me to scare the life out of them. I may have inadvertently made a couple cry but it was a small percentage so I consider that a good day given the numbers. A day which in the end was not long enough and when we had to eventually leave it was difficult to say goodbye.

Unfortunately the week soon came to an end and it was soon time to head back to Manila for new years. For me it just wasn’t long enough and I wish I’d had more time on the island to help out but commitments called in Sarawak. For those of you that have thought about helping the relief cause but didn’t know how I would definitely recommend YPDR. For a fledging outfit with no previous experience in the field they are doing a lot of good work on Bantanyan and plan to expand this to the neighbouring islands. So look them up and get your asses out here, personally i think it would be a great experience for anyone with the time and a bit of money and the people here would be very appreciative of it too. Plus it’s the Philippines, this place is stunning even after all the devastation you can see the beauty of these islands in so many other places. And if time is an issue then you could always donate, no amount is too small just check out the YPDR face book page on the links below for further details or drop Chris White or Joe Ferris III a line if you are interested and tell them I sent you. It was definitely good for the soul and these people can really do with the help.

Laying The Foundations

The Completed Unit

Some of the Devastation

Drinking Rum & Dodging Bullets: New Year in Manila

If there is one thing I have discovered about the Filipinos is that they know how to throw a party (and cook pork) and not more so than in Manila probably the party capital of Asia. So back I went to spend New Year which being Manila was crazy as you might imagine. After settling back at Caths (who’d buggered off to Hong Kong) Joint I hightailed it back to the Pink Manila to meet the Youths (Well the boys anyway Kate had left at this point) and two other English Architects they’d met at the hostel. When I arrived they’d already started the party so I went about catching up before we headed out to the Manila streets to see the New Year in properly. I’d already been given the heads up by Cath as to where the best locations would be for a proper street party so we made our way slowly to one of these locations. The bars when we arrived were semi filled with revellers spilling out into the street in various states of inebriation in which we joined but the real party didn’t start until the clock struck 12. Now I’d been warned (can you see a trend here) about Manila New Year celebrations and how raucous they can be to the point of life treating but up until now I couldn’t see how?! As everyone seemed to be having a blast and getting on very well. But I later found that I was completely off the mark. What I thought would be a night that descended into an outbreak of violence was actually quite the opposite i.e. Filipino exuberance as when the clock hit 12 two things came out: fireworks and guns.

One Must Protect Ones Self

First there were guys on the street lighting up fireworks nilly willy and because most of us were looking up it wasn’t until you had a firework whistle past your knees did you realise that some of them had been set off in uncontrolled conditions and were going astray. Simon (lost at sea leech boy) managed to get most of his leg hairs singed by a stray rocket that went through our group. I was beginning to wonder whether some unknown spiritual power had something against this guy and whether I should seriously rethink hanging around with him. If that wasn’t bad enough we started to hear a different array of bangs rising around us and soon realised that some of the locals (and possibly even the expats) had whopped out the their desert eagles or whatever it was they were packing and started shooting them in the air. For a few seconds and in the heat of the adrenaline charged moment we thought this was cool as hell until we remembered the age old adage of what goes up must eventually come down. That coupled with more rockets whizzing by us was enough motivation to move back into the safety of the bar with its solid walls and ceilings and take a spectators seat for the rest of the show. It wasn’t long before the whole shebang was over and we continued the night immersing ourselves in the Manila nightlife and man does this city have a colourful nightlife, it’s definitely not for the faint hearted. When it all ended and i got home is anyone’s guess but for me it definitely goes down as one of the livelier new years I’ve had and in some ways it help redeem Manila in my eyes.

Manila is not a city I can imagine growing on me or one I’d want to go back to but I can definitely see its appeal would say it’s worth visiting at least once if you are in the Philippines but if there is one thing it highlights it’s that the Filipino people really do know how to enjoy life. Even with all their problems past and present they remain high spirited, jovial, extremely welcoming and take whatever life throws at them in their stride even in the wake of a typhoon like Hayain. I didn’t really know what to expect with the Philippines as I’d heard conflicting stories about its safety and it’s people but I have say so far it has been one of the highlights of this trip and I’m looking forward to going back as I feel like I’ve only hit the tip of the iceberg. All I can say for anyone thinking of visiting this country you won’t be disappointed. For some reason tourism has not affected the people here like it has in Vietnam and Thailand where it’s hard to meet anyone who is genuine and not just after your money. Don’t get me wrong there is still some of it about but it is far and few for a country of this size and beauty. So get your ass here before it all changes as I can’t imagine it will take long once this place is truly discovered by the masses.

Bring on PALAWAN.