I head south to the Visayas for an important occasion. On my last trip here I befriended the Avendula family, a prominent clan in the small village of St. Bernard, Leyte. Rachel Avendula, an outgoing, sharp-witted force of a woman, small but terrible, won election as vice-mayor of St. Bernard in the recent May elections. The victory fiesta will be held in a few days.
I take the 24 hour ferry to Cebu. I love traveling by boat. Planes are for speed and efficiency, boats are for poetry and adventure. Planes are designed to suck the the journeying out of travel. You are literally boxed up in an antiseptic tube from the rest of the world. Boats amble along, in touch with the elements. On boats you experience rocking, the best sleep narcotic in the world! on planes, you share an armrest with someone but don't even learn his name. On boats, you share cabins, decks, stories, beer and songs. Plane disasters involve hijacking and crashes. Nautical scares involve icebergs and pirates! A plane is an MRI scan. A boat is the womb of the world.
24 hours is a lot of time to kill. Fortunately, I make new friends right away. Ohlyn is in her mid 20s, attractive and knows it. She works in Kuwait but is coming home to Cebu to be with her sister who will give birth soon. She helps me figure out how to get the linens for my bunk, and we spend most of the boat ride laughing in each other's company. Through Ohlyn, I meet Sarah, a woman who will become a dear friend and a major player in my experience in the Philippines.
Okay, let's take a break from this saccharin romanticism of sea travel. What the hell is it with Filipinos and karaoke?! There are only two things one can do on a long ferry ride. One can stand on the deck which affords beautiful islandscapes but is insufferable hot. Or one can hang out in the main restaurant/bar area where everyone clusters around a videoke machine to belt out classic American ballads. Its been said that 50% of Filipinos can sing; the other 50% think they can sing. Apparently the SuperFerry passengers hail from the later half. My new friends all take turns on the mic and pressure me to do so. I joke that I only sing after five San Miguels, but unfortunately I fall asleep after four. I spend hours and hours and hours tortured by screeching tributes to Journey, Faith Hill and Queen. I consider it colonial payback. The chow at meal time is public school cafeteria lousy. The bland beef stew seems to sigh wearily as I nudge it around with my fork. Finally, we reach Cebu harbor. After 24 hours of travel, it seems to take another full day to dock and disembark.
Sarah invites me to come visit her in Leyte. Two days later, I take a blessedly short boat ride and bus trip to Baybay, Leyte.
Me, Sarah, Ohlyn
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