May 3rd: Biting Fish and Propellors (Philippines part 1)

Coron TownThe explanation for why Bronwen now has three fish bite marks on her legs is a good one: “The tourists here feed bread to the fish,” explains our tour guide, “and because your wife is so white, the fish mistook her for white bread”. Little consolation for Bron, peacefully snorkeling her way through the many coral reefs off Busuanga island in the Philippines.

Our trip began in the capital, Manila: in the district of Makita featuring a distinctly Southern American feel, with Cuban bars, Mexican restaurants and plenty of street tacos available.  But when it’s so hot outside (we managed to time our visit with the hottest day of the year so far: 38 degrees) the inclination to go wandering  is not so great.  We declined the horse-drawn carriages and offer to explore the old town by “chariot” (Segway), instead opting for darting from shaded cover to shaded cover as we explored the Fort Santiago and cobbled streets of Intramuros on foot.

No jet engines for us

No jet engines for us

I had a sneaking suspicion that the plane to take us from Manila to the island of Busuanga wasn’t going to be huge, but I still expected it to have jet engines. Unfortunately, propellers were the only mode of propulsion on offer.

We landed in the smallest airport I’ve ever encountered*, with luggage being handed out directly rather than put on any kind of conveyor belt.  No security gates or checkpoints on the way out of airport, unless we’re including cattle grids.

Our shuttle bus took us directly to our hotel in Coron, the main town on Busuanga island (although confusingly Coron Town faces rather than resides on Coron island).

Bron on our island-hopping boat

Bron on our island-hopping boat

The last time I went snorkeling was somewhere off the south coast of the UK, where the sea hides its treasure in the murk, and the icy cold water limits time spent in the sea to a minimum.  If there is an opposite, the Philippines provides it.  Pristine, almost translucent waters, mile after mile of coral and a sea temperature of around 25 degrees. Our ‘island hopping’ day trip from Coron took us to saltwater lakes, white sand beaches and coral abundant with fish (with some fish more dangerous than others).

After a few days in Coron town, we joined ‘Tao Philippines’ for a five day tour, fully deserving of its own blog entry.

SunsetFollowing the exertion of 4 nights sleeping in the semi-rough (outside, but at least we had mattresses of sorts), we headed for the luxury of an island resort for the next few days.  El Nido resort on Lagen island, here are a few tips for you:

  • Firstly, do not ask tired, impatient, slightly grumpy guests ‘Do you have anything metallic in your bags?’ immediately upon arrival.  Yes.  Plenty, thanks.  The security guard, a little perturbed by my hands-off, ‘Please help yourself to my bags since I’m not going to start unpacking them for you’ stance eventually let us pass.
  • Secondly, dusk heralds the arrival of mosquitos and other flying creatures, especially those drawn towards the light(s).  Covering up your food may help to prevent your dishes from featuring insect surprise as a bonus.  I suspect the arrival of the swarm of bees on our last night wasn’t your fault, but maintaining a ‘Nothing to see here’ approach doesn’t work when they bounce off hands and faces and greet diners head-on in the meat dishes as they attempt to avail of your buffet.
  • Lastly, promising to arrange our transport off the island but failing to do so, and not even telling me you’d failed to do so, wasn’t a great experience. But thanks ultimately for the free shuttle bus service to Puerto Princessa.  I won’t hold you responsible for our driver’s obsession with Modern Talking’s 80’s classic- “Brother Louie”‘.  After the 6th remix, I could keep quiet no longer. He swapped the CD for his other one  -‘Air Supply’ (seek them out, kids).

Our last night in the Phillipines was back in Manila, this time in a hotel with bedrooms cleverly disguised as bathrooms. Saloon-style swing doors into the toilet area with a uniform tiled floor throughout: an open, very cosy layout.  Not somewhere you could share a room with a co-worker.

Public transport in Manila

Public transport in Manila

We’ve had an amazing, unique, couple of weeks away. Even for a non-beach person such as me, the Philippines offers an incredible array of sights and activities to keep its guests fully occupied. And to think we visited less than 1% of the 7000 or so available islands.  My body hasn’t been exposed to this much sun since Butlins, Minehead, circa 1982.  I am no longer pasty white (although I’ll give it two more weeks until normal service is resumed).

We were only 3.5 hours flying time from from Shanghai and yet the natural beauty of the landscape, the cleanliness of the sea and the lack of any air pollution made us feel like we were on a different planet.

*This before our temporary passage through El Nido airport, so small as to necessitate a holding pattern for ground transport, lest they cross the road out of the airport at the same time a plane attempts to land on it.

April 28th: The Tao Tour (Philippines part 2)

The crew and guests on the Tao Phillipines tour

The crew and guests on the Tao Phillipines tour

On the Tao Philippines website, the booking procedure includes an extra step which  asks: ‘Are you sure you want to do this? It’s not for everyone’. Looking back, the last four nights of our holiday at the all-inclusive luxury resort on Lagen island, with its air-conditioned rooms, cocktail bars and large pool, couldn’t have been much more different to the previous four with Romy and crew aboard the Tao Philippines boat.

We met up in Coron: Romy and his six crew members along with 10 guests (2 Brits, 3 Aussies, 2 Dutch, a Swede, a Slovakian and an American; there’s always an American), to board our floating temporary home for the next 5 days.  The plan was a simple one – to travel from Coron on Busuanga Island to El Nido on Palawan, stopping at different locations along the way and sleeping in a different place on each of our 4 nights.  Most of the crew slept onboard whilst the guests stayed in huts on beaches; in mangroves; in small villages, all safely covered by mosquito nets.

On the Tao website it states alcohol can be purchased prior to the trip, and helpfully offers the advice ‘Guests should not drink too much in the sun’.  What it failed to mention was that Romy would, without fail, start each evening with a round or two of his signature cocktail: ‘Sundowner’.  A simple but effective cocktail consisting of rum and pineapple juice, mixed at the simple but effective ratio of 50/50. This is rum (‘rhum’) purchased locally for 90 pesos – around £1.50 for a bottle of rum that would be at least 10 times as much in the UK.

Late night with Bron, Michael, Michelle and Guy

Late night with Bron, Michael, Michelle and Guy

Michelle (American) and the Aussie blokes (Guy and Michael) were never shy of joining Bron and I for a few drinks.  A couple of glorious hours sat in the sea, beer or cocktail in hand, taking in the scenery and contemplating our options for retiring early and moving to where it never gets cold and hunger can be solved with a fishing rod. Or an ability to climb coconut trees.

We snorkeled for hours, both with and against the sea’s current (the latter a little disconcerting for those – me and Bron – without fins, when swimming furiously does little other than to hold position in the sea).  I would try to describe what we saw but my knowledge of coral and its inhabitants is so poor it would be like a dolphin attempting to describe a jungle.  What I will say is that I had no idea life underwater was so colourful – blue starfish, Nemo-type fish and purple coral were amongst the many highlights. Also colourful were the backs of my legs – a little suncream insufficient to cope with the sun when magnified by water onto the most exposed part of my body for an extended period of time. The ladies suffered a different problem: ‘sunburned bottom’ I think being the most polite way of phrasing it.

Tao PhiippinesCoral can be dangerous, especially if stepped on whilst attempting to help push our stranded boat back into this sea.  ‘Make sure you clean out that cut,’ offers Guy helpfully, ‘Coral is a living organism and can grow inside you’.  My coral cut added to the injuries already encountered through many mosquito and other insect bites, cuts from crashing into the boat’s ladder and eventually, copying Bronwen by being attacked by a somewhat territorial fish.  Fortunately, we both managed to avoid the jellyfish.

Bron and I had visions of going hungry whilst out at sea; we needn’t have worried – the boat’s cooks did a fantastic job of keeping us fully fed with huge, fresh meals three times a day interspersed with all manner of snacks.  From freshly caught fish, breakfasts of mango, banana and porridge eaten from a fresh coconut to local fruit and vegetables we’d never previously encountered.   And of courses the banana ketchup, a sauce to accompany any Filipino dish.  On our last night, Romy had arranged a spit roast pig, cooked to perfection by some of the local villagers in our final sleepover location.  Eating crackling straight from the pig wasn’t something I’d tried before…

Romy’s filleting skills were also called into action on a few occasions. Fish is caught whilst the boat is out at sea; fish is killed and prepared by Romy; fish arrives as sashimi 5 minutes later.

Ice FactoryFood and drinks onboard are kept cool by huge chunks of ice, purchased from dedicated ice factories -the sign outside our chosen ice source stated simply: ‘Mall of Ice’.  They had a job vacancy for an ‘Ice man’, but without a decent job description I didn’t bother applying.  Especially after seeing the huge blocks of ice, carried single-handed by Romy.

Sleep was hard to come by – the temperature at night retained most of the heat from the day, and the mosquito nets absorbed most of what little breeze was on offer. The full moon seemed to keep most of the wildlife awake, from cicadas chorusing in union at irregular intervals to geckos chanting their name throughout the night (they do – ‘GEH-ko’ repeated over and over, stopping only when you’ve nearly, but not quite, discovered their hiding spot, thus avoiding strangulation). And the bloody cockerels. Everywhere. And not just at dawn.

For a foreign tourist, life out in the open leads to a ritual of lotions: sun lotion first thing and repeated throughout the day;  insect repellent at dusk in an attempt to keep biting creatures at bay; after-bite cream when it doesn’t work; shower gel at night to wash the whole lot off again.

Our luxurious bed

Our luxurious bed

The evenings were mainly spent eating (with a little drinking) although our penultimate evening ended in the world’s smallest karaoke bar (a little further down the beach from our huts) with the world’s largest selection of songs.  Accompanied by Romy and John (the owner/security guard – a man with 14 children and over 70 grandchildren), Bron, Michael, Michelle and I tried a few classics whilst Guy impressed us all with his Filipino rap song.

Our last meal was preceded by another first for me – a massage on the beach.  Organised by Romy, a few of us partook in the sensational experience of a massage near the sea under cover of palm trees.  Maybe a little too relaxing since it nearly sent us all to sleep.

A fantastic 5 day experience; many thanks to Romy and the crew, and to our fellow guests: Kris, Joanne, Julia, Michelle, Guy, Michael, Jonas and Katarina (who introduced me to starfish-phobia) for keeping us entertained.

April 14th: Taking in Nanjing

Two things never to attempt in Nanjing on a Saturday night:

  1. Hailing a taxi after 10pm. Never mind the fact that the taxi’s colour indicator is the opposite to that in Shanghai (where green means available for hire); there just aren’t any available taxis.  Even if there were, you’d be fighting with far more savvy locals. Instead, get the number 7 bus.  It worked out perfectly for us (although having Anny to guide us probably helped).
  2. Booking into certain hotels if you’re not Chinese.  Either the hotel staff in our selected branch of Home Inn took an instant dislike to me and Bron or the government’s rule about needing to certify each hotel’s capability for accepting foreign guests is genuine (as was the hotel’s apparent lack of such certification).  I would like to know what tests they have to pass to achieve this status since, for example, if I can’t speak enough Chinese to book a room it isn’t the hotel’s problem and it certainly isn’t the government’s.

Memorial to the Nanjing MassacreOn probably our last outing of this type, we joined Anny’s extended family along with Linda, her husband & daughter for our trip to Nanjing.  Another of China’s former capitals (until as recently as the 1940s), it’s a city of contrasts, from the combined natural and man-made beauty of such sights as Dr Sun Yat-sen’s mausoleum on Mount Zijin to the memorial for the massacre of hundreds of thousands of civilians and disarmed soldiers at the hands of Japanese invaders in December 1937.   The latter explaining many of my former co-workers’ feelings towards Japan (in part caused by a perceived reluctance by the Japanese state to fully acknowledge and apologise for the massacre).

The memorial is incredibly and deliberately evocative, with many written and photographic graphic exhibits revealing the events leading up to, during and after the six-week massacre.  The chilling sight of the proportion of the ‘Pit of ten thousand corpses’ on display, with skeletons upon skeletons, some scattered and some intact, leaves the visitor (well, definitely me) wondering what happens to a fellow human such that they could maim, torture, rape and brutally execute other human beings.  The ‘Forgotten Holocaust’, as it has been called by some historians.

Looking downhill from Dr Sun Yat-sen's Mausoleum

Looking downhill from Dr Sun Yat-sen’s Mausoleum

The Memorial visit was on Sunday; Saturday’s climb to Dr Sun Yat-sen’s mausoleum was a far more uplifting experience.  Shortly followed by a meal and  a little rice wine with all, and a late night game of Chinese style poker with Anny.  Playing Chinese poker with a Chinese expert when you’re a newcomer to the game is always going to be a bad idea.  And a costly one.

Anny and Linda – you and your families have once again been more than gracious hosts.  We hope to be able to return the favour one day when you visit the UK.  Soon.

April 8th: Eating Locally, Hong Kong Style (Part 2)

Times Square

Times Square

Hong Kong offers those tourists not willing to go the extra mile a glimpse into Chinese life. But to suggest to the locals that they are identical in behaviour or culture to their mainland neighbours is akin to calling a Scouser a Manc (OK, not quite that bad). The Hongkongese speak Cantonese, not Mandarin; they rarely spit in the streets; they do not incessantly beep their horns. They’re fiercely protective of life as they’ve become accustomed; reluctant to change and suspicious of any attempts to get them to do so. It is a very different experience to mainland China, but does that make it in any way better? I’ll leave that one alone…

Adam, Heather, Bron and Me overlooking the Kowloon skyline

Adam, Heather, Bron and Me overlooking the Kowloon skyline

Our arrival into Hong Kong was less than ideal – a delayed flight resulting in a 1.30am Saturday arrival. Since we’d arrived from Shanghai, home of H7N9, the passengers were greeted by a man aiming a temperature gun at their foreheads. Never mind immigration, I’m convinced a reading above 37c would have resulted in refused permission to proceed beyond the exit of the contraption* leading from the plane to the airport gate. Hong Kong airport has a convenient train to take passengers from remote gates to immigration; this train stops running at 12.30am. So we arrived at the hotel around 3am, tired, grumpy and a little disturbed at the vision of the future Hong Kong offers – where surgical face masks are commonplace and social interaction via facial expressions is limited to interpretation of eye movements and intense study of dancing eyebrows. There’s a joke in there somewhere: a man and a woman both wears surgical masks go on a date…

I would like to know what happens when mask wearers are eating? Or do they never eat in public?

Me, Bron, Danny and Carmen... Happy despite the very dull Liverpool game.

Me, Bron, Danny and Carmen… Happy despite the very dull Liverpool game.

Ours was a somewhat enforced trip, but we took advantage of the opportunity to say goodbye to Heather & Adam and Carmen & Danny. Heather taking us to experience some fine barbecued Hong Kong food on Saturday night followed by a traditional Sunday dim sum; Carmen taking us back to the first restaurant we ever visited in Hong Kong. Very fitting as a first and probably last dinner in Hong Kong.

*I’m sure it has a technical term. “Contraption” probably isn’t it.

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March 27th: Underwater Golf

Bron and Rachel under the sea, playing golf.

Bron and Rachel under the sea, playing golf.

It wasn’t really underwater.  It was on a basement floor, below sea level, but not underwater.  Unless everything underwater is always florescent, in which case I’m mistaken.  Rachel’s idea of trying something “a little different” was certainly that – on Wednesday night, over in the New World Centre in Pudong (on the dark side of the river, where we seldom visit), we ventured into a strange world of crazy golf, Chinese style.  We declined the offer of having our own personal scorer, and stumbled through the course with our florescent golf balls and clubs.  A strange experience…. Rachel has these ideas…

The previous night’s strange experience wasn’t of Rachel’s doing.  An attempt to try out a couple of bars on the Bund before heading to the Red Door restaurant sounds innocuous enough, but after being refused entry at the Red Door for our lack of burlesque outfits to walking out of another restaurant for being insulted by the waiter over my choice of beer (amongst over things), it was another strange night.

A few more such nights await before we leave…

March 31st: The First (Treetop) Barbecue of the Summer

P1040749Back home in the UK, one particular event always indicates the start of summer, and never mind fiddling with the clocks or the wearing of shorts.  Whether early in a March heatwave or late in May’s eventual surrender to warmth, our goodbye to winter is always indicated by the first barbecue of the year.  So this year, as the UK currently clings to winter in an inversely proportional way to how Bron and I are clinging on to life out in China, our first barbecue carried an inevitable Chinese feel.

Our ‘Tree-top Villa’ in the mountainous Moganshan region was just that – one of about 30 villas bordering a narrow valley, positioned high up overlooking the trees. Each with its own barbecue, hot tub and personal (ish) host. Lillian, our host, performed an admirable job, succumbing to the many demands of Isaac, Chong, Bron and I without complaint as we attempted to relax amongst the trees.

SAM_0584‘Naked Retreats’ (please note: not ‘nudist’ retreats) offers its guests the opportunity to spend a few days away from Shanghai’s relentless pressure to ‘Do Something’ by choosing instead to do absolutely nothing, which is pretty much what we did. Shunning the available activities such as bike riding, hiking, archery and incongruously, Land Rover driving, we chose to spend our time popping in and out of the hot tub, ambling around and of course, having our first barbecue of the year.

Three hours from Shanghai, the Naked Retreat resort is a staggeringly effective use of a landscape, making use of nature to provide its guests with a unique, eco-friendly experience.  March has given us a few fantastic weekends, and this one no different (despite losing at majiang to a very sleepy Isaac).

I am curious, though, as to how such a relaxing, effortless weekend can leave us all feeling so tired…