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.
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.
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.
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.
Some of the devastation caused by Typhoon Haiyan |
Cleaning up the Beach |
Bantanyan Town Centre |
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