Sunday, January 11th, Manila to Palawan Island.
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| El Nido Islands |
At 3:45 A.M we are shaken awake by an earthquake and our hotel sways noticeably. I jump out of bed expecting aftershocks and wonder where the safest place in this not up to building code hotel might be? I slip on clothes, use the bathroom and locate my purse should we need to evacuate. I worry about John and Joe on the floor above but there are no aftershocks and I drift back to sleep for 45 minutes until our alarm sounds at 4:30 for our morning wake up. While Art showers, I check my phone to find out the magnitude of the earthquake. It was a 6.2 ; 85 miles west of Manila and 10 miles deep. There is no significant damage and there are no reported casualties. Because of the earthquake, the elevator is out of commission and I start to carry my bag downstairs but a bell hop (or elevator repair man?) appears from nowhere to carry it down two flights to the lobby. Joe and John appear momentarily and we catch a taxi to the airport.
There is little early morning traffic and the ride to the airport takes just 30 minutes. We check our bags and search for breakfast and fueled with coffee, we go through security and proceed to our gate. My rattan back pack gets a lot of attention from the x-ray technicians and passengers alike and I am able to slip my jacket, my computer and my extra shoes in the back. I sleep the hour and a half plane flight to Palawan.
We deplane and walk across the tarmac to the tiny airport terminal and our luggage is off-loaded quickly. The climate is warm and I am happy to be down from the cloud forest highlands of Luzon and to slip into “Island time.” I spot a young man holding up a sign printed with Shosku Bobroskie and catch his attention. He takes my suitcase and I start to follow him to the waiting van, but Art, John and Joe have halted and are watching a welcoming dance performance, an eclectic and odd combination of Spanish dancers and loin clothed male dancers. Our driver asks me where the 5th passenger is and I tell him that there are only four of us. Was Julie Ann, Joe’s friend planing on going with us?
It is a six hour drive to El Nido and the two lane road takes us past small villages of houses built of bamboo, corrugated tin and cinderblock. Woman, children and animals walk and loiter along the side of the road. Men ride scooters and (water buffalo) and trikes zip along beside us. The countryside is lush and green; a patchwork of rice paddies, banana trees, coconut palms and bamboo. We have glimpses of the ocean, a steely blue in the distance and we cross over a wide jungle river where longboats float idly at the water’s edge.
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| El Nido Town |
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| El Nido Street Stall |
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| Hotel Silla Del Vincejos |
We arrive in El Nido around 3:00 P.M. and check into Silla Del Vincejos hotel on the main tourist street. Joe has stayed here before and although our hotel isn’t on the beach, it is in the heart of town and just a 5 minute walk to the beach strip of restaurants and bars. There are about 20 rooms in this clean and family run hotel. The rooms are simply furnished but the management is trying and a pair of swan folded towels form a heart on the king sized bed in our room; the air conditioner works and there is hot water.
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| El Nido Beach |
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| El Nido Catamarans |
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| El Nido Beach Front Restaurants and Bars |
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| Beach Front Bar |
Ten minutes after checking in we are walking the shop lined street towards the ocean. Beach front restaurants line the shore, all with tables set in the sand and sandwich boards advertising their happy hour specials. John wants to sit and enjoy a beer in this beautiful bay, fringed with jagged black limestone cliffs and dramatic “Jurassic” islands jutting up from the sea. It is 3:50 P.M. and happy hour starts at 5:00 P.M I procrastinate drinks on the sand and suggest that we walk the pathway around the island and see what might be around the next corner? This area isn’t as touristy and there are guest houses interspersed with village houses. Joe knows a Japanese, American women who owns a guest house and we walk to her inn and find her in the courtyard. She is about 70, slight and genky and greets Joe warmly. They banter as old friends about gardening, Koi ponds and her apparently failing husband who repeatedly reads the same book over and over.
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| Taiyo Village Guest House |
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| Handstands in the Sand |
We return to the tourist strip of beach front restaurants and choose one at the far end for happy hour. Joe orders a banana smoothie which proves to be more expensive than the gin and tonics. We move to the restaurant next door where they have happy hour margaritas and appetizers. The margaritas are good and strong and the fried mushrooms are delicious. I leave the restaurant feeling a bit tipsy as we move down the beach to choose a restaurant for dinner. We choose on on the sand and our dinners are all pretty awful, but in spite of this we have a good time. We make our way back to our hotel along the side streets, past tourist shops, tiny massage parlor, nail salons, tattoo parlors and bars.
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| Happy Hour, El Nido Beach |
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| Happy Hour, El Nido Beach |
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