Bohol Island and the Chocolate Hills

---

From when I went on board the ferry to Bohol, until I reluctantly departed three days later, two older women made my trip memorable in very different ways. Paulette recounted her Filipino adventures and Elpedia lovingly tended her orchids. They were like two bookends to my time in Bohol despite their very different lives.

OK, back to the beginning - the sailing to Bohol from Siquijor Island was wonderful! I arrived at the dock in plenty of time and boarded early so I was able to get a seat on a wooden bench and settle down to journaling. The next thing I heard was a voice above me, ”Well, you certainly don’t waste your time!” I raised my head slowly and my eyes followed two long, tanned legs, then shorts, up to the smiling face of a tall woman in a faded cap. Meet Paulette, a 67-year-old retired nurse from Belgium.

She sat down on the bench beside me and we talked about our travels and swapped stories. Paulette had also just come from Siquijor Island but I was already envious. She had seen so much more than I had because she had hitch-hiked everywhere. I hadn’t really thought of doing so and I suppose that is one of my limits, for safety reasons. Maybe I should reconsider. As one does at such times, Paulette met very interesting people and in two days came away with a backpack-full of stories to tell.

I am reminded to misquote Forrest Gump - “Travel is like a box of chocolates, you never know who you’ll meet.”

It’s a four-hour sail from Siquijor to Bohol Island and we chatted for almost three of those hours. The bench was alongside the low-cost bunk beds you can see in the photo. There were lots of families there and people walking around, playing cards and smoking nearby. Paulette would be travelling overnight on the boat to Cebu, and from there on to Indonesia. Eventually we went downstairs to the First Class sleeping area where Paulette had reserved a bunk bed. It was much quieter and air conditioned down there. The management even supplied a small pillow and a sheet to each person and a staff person sat at a desk to maintain the peace and quiet.

Once Paulette was settled into her assigned bunk I went back upstairs for the remainder of the sail. It must have been about 11pm when we disembarked at Tagbilaran, the main town on Bohol Island. We had to face the barrage of tricycle drivers offering each of us the best deal in town. Luckily some nice German young men let me travel in their tricycle to the Charisma Hostel that they had heard was good. It was full and across the street was the Nisa Pension that Paulette had warned me to steer clear of. We hadn’t much choice so the Germans and I went in and negotiated rooms, including breakfast. I had paid €8 for the small, noisy room beside the desk but later decided on the more expensive twin-bed deluxe (€15) because it was near the bathroom I would share with one other couple. The room had four solid walls and a door, Wi-Fi and a little desk – OK for me. I stayed awake until 3am searching the Internet for a way to get from Bohol Island to Butuan town on Mindanao Island, the departure point for my flight to Beijing. I had no luck and decided that the next day I would change my return-to-Beijing flight with Cebu Pacific.

I fell into bed at 3am and tossed about on nylon sheets that crackled with my movements. With the heat and humidity it was like sleeping in a microwave! I was woken at 5:30am with a rhythmic knocking sound, maybe in the room above me. It would go on for 5 minutes and then stop for a while, then start up again. It wasn’t loud but it was very annoying at that early hour. I managed to doze on and off until 9:00am. Breakfast was very good – tea, scrambled eggs and a banana. The young men in the kitchen even microwaved my gluten-free porridge for me. I went back to my room and the Wi-Fi and – Bingo! – I discovered that there is a ferry boat from Bohol Island to Camiguin Island and a simple route to Butuan Airport. Yippee, I wouldn’t have to spend four days travelling like I had feared the night before. That gave me a whole two-and-a-half days in Bohol!

When I was checking out of the pension I mentioned to the elderly owner about the noise near my room, like quiet hammering or something, but why were they doing it at 5:30am? He said, “That’s the restaurant next door. They serve breakfasts and we have done everything in our power to make them stop chopping at 5:00am. We even bought them a new, soundproof chopping table but they didn’t use it for long. We apologise for their noise and you don’t have to pay the extra for the double room.” That was very nice of them.

If I had more time I would like to explore the area around Tagbilaran, especially the adjacent Panglao Island which is linked to Bohol by a bridge. Apparently the best beaches in the area are on Panglao. It is also a world-class scuba diving site and popular for whale watching. On my next trip I’ll try to arrive in July for the month-long Sandugo Festival which is like a Mardi Gras with lots of street dancing. The festival commemorates a historic Blood Compact in 1565 between the Boholano chieftain and the Spanish explorer Legaspi which led to the conversion of the locals to Catholicism.



I had decided to stay the next few nights in the town of Jagna, where the Camiguin Island boat departs from. That would save me an early-morning journey to the dock from elsewhere on the island. I took the local bus which cost me €1 for the one-hour journey to Jagna. I sat next to a man with a briefcase who slept most of the way. Then he woke up and started chatting away to me. He was very interesting. He was a high school administrator and had just been to the main town to collect graduation diplomas for his students. He said he and his wife lived near Jagna with their two small daughters. By the time our bus was approaching Jagna he insisted on giving me his contact details. He said I should email him before I come to the Philippines the next time and stay at their house. I found such generosity to be typical of Filipinos.

At the first stop in Jagna the conductor struggled to take my wheelie case out the back door while a throng of passengers surged onto the bus. But my newfound friend said that this was not the stop for me, that I had to go to the next stop at St. Michael’s Church. He called to the conductor to put my bag back on the bus. Well, the mayhem! The conductor dumped my bag on the bus steps and the boarding passengers climbed over it. Meanwhile seated passengers were shouting “Batik! Batik! (Bring it back!)” Finally, as the bus door closed on my bag the conductor gave it another yank and it landed in the aisle. Whew!

When I told him that I wanted to stay in the town of Jagna on this trip, my fellow passenger advised me to stay at the Garden Cafe Pension. It is funded by IDEA (International Deaf Education Association) and gives employment to graduates of the local School for the Deaf. It was only two blocks from the church on the main street and I soon discovered that it was fabulous! They have a restaurant and about 10 bedrooms in a new bungalow in a quiet neighbourhood. I decided to upgrade to a twin room that had a full bathroom en suite, satellite TV and Wi-Fi in the room – for 950pesos/€18/$23.

I would definitely come back to Garden Café Pension because the location, the room price and the restaurant are all excellent. You hardly notice that the staff are deaf because there are two receptionists who deal with the guests while the deaf staff do the cooking, serve meals and do the housekeeping. I think it’s a great idea and there should be more facilities like this for people with a disability to have interesting work in the service industry. I could see that the local people had learned enough sign language to communicate with the staff and they all seemed to be having a great time.

I took a short stroll to the seafront and returned for a lovely dinner of steak and chips in the hostel restaurant. A lively family with three children sat opposite me and I thought the father looked Irish. Before long I overheard him say to one of the children, “Look what you’re after doin’.” Bingo! Of course we got chatting and John told me he left his home in the West of Ireland in 1971 when he was 17 years of age. He became a travel photographer and arrived in Bohol in 1982. He and his lovely Filipina wife have three children, all with really Irish names. John says he goes home to Co. Clare to visit his aging mother every year for a week. He loves his life in the Philippines and he is building his own house. I was surprised to hear him say that he rarely meets Irish people on Bohol.

May is the month of festivals in Bohol, enhanced by the pervasive scent of blossoms. Jagna celebrates its annual Sinu-og Estokada Festival in May in honour of their patron saint. Legend has it that a century ago St. Michael the Archangel rescued the townspeople from Muslim invaders from Mindanao. The Muslims of Mindanao are a regular topic of conversation among Filipinos because of their separatist aspirations.

When I first considered taking a trip to the Philippines I discussed it with a young American woman who lives in my complex in Beijing. She said she had visited recently and had a fabulous time, especially in Bohol. She warned me not to go to Bacares Island where European tourists lie side-by-side, carpeting the beaches. It seems there is little else to do there, so definitely not my scene. She had told me about the famous Chocolate Hills in Bohol and as soon as I arrived at the Garden Café I enquired how I could get to see them.

Early the next morning the receptionist knocked on my door to tell me that a Filipina woman guest and her American husband had booked a driver to take them out on a half-day tour, mainly to the Chocolate Hills. Would I like to join them and share the 3,000peso/€55 fee? The Filipina woman was there too so I said, “Certainly, I’ll be ready as soon as possible.”

The American husband, Tommy, has been in Dumaguete for seven years doing missionary work. He is a big man and has a big wooden cross hanging in front of his plain white T-shirt. He is 57 and his Filipina bride, Regina, is in her mid-40’s. Tommy had suffered an occupational neck injury and had few prospects for employment in the United States when he was born again. Soon after, he was offered an all-expense-paid trip to the Philippines and a paid position there to retirement. Despite his neck injury, Tommy leapt at the chance.

Regina has had a life that is perhaps not uncommon in the Philippines. She was widowed 13 years ago when she had four children under 8 years of age. She left her children with a relative and went to Manila to work. The relative resented having to rear her children, but she seems to have stayed on working in Manila anyway. Then she moved to Dumaguete and got a job as assistant to Tommy. Her children still don’t live with her. It’s as if she has abandoned them and taken up God’s work instead.

Tommy and Regina were friendly and chatty and, as you can see, told me their life stories. Then somehow the subject of American politics came up. Oh-Oh! Tommy was soon on a roll and I was stunned – here was a real live Redneck, the like of which I had never actually met before. (Maybe I’ve had a sheltered past.) He got talking about Barack Obama, “…He’s not a patriot! He isn’t even an American! He’s Muslim! The television cameras went to the village in Kenya that his father is from and his grandmother said, “Barack was born in that mud hut there, I saw it myself,” The reporter said that Barack was born in Hawaii and his grandmother insisted that she had seem Obama the day he was born in Kenya! He can only show a cheap photocopy of his supposed birth certificate!”

We hear about Americans who hold these extreme anti-Obama views but they are rarely spotted outside the States. Maybe they just don’t express their extreme views away from friends and family. “Obama says one thing to Europeans who believe him, then does the opposite. He doesn’t want America to be a great nation, he wants it to be an ordinary one! Obama is no Christian, I can tell you that for sure.” I had noticed that the movie about Sara Palin was going to be on HBO soon, but I stopped short of asking Tommy for his views on a woman he might view as the Great Hope for America.

Bohol is gaining fame for its budding eco-tourism. The driver took us to the village of Carmen to see the famous Chocolate Hills, a series of low rounded hills, something like the few drummonds we have in the midlands in Ireland, but far more of them. These limestone geological formations number 1,268 perfectly cone-shaped hills, scattered over an area of more than 50 square kilometres in the central part of the province. They are the Philippines’ Third National Geological Monument and are believed to be millions of years old and one-of-a-kind in the world. The hills are covered in green grass for most of the year but the scrub growth turns brown in the dry summers, hence the name. I was fortunate to be there when they were turning brown.

Next we called to a small sanctuary near Corella town where we thought they had a collection of tarsiers. At 5” they are smallest primates/marsupials in the world and can fit in a child’s hand. Tarsiers are a tropical endangered species so they are protected. Unfortunately they had been moved to a new home but we were able to see the albino and other pythons, an iguana and myna birds.

When you look at the photos of Loboc town you may wonder about the highway overpass ending abruptly over the main street, with the ancient church on the other side of the road. Apparently the local officials agreed to build an overpass in this small town with virtually no traffic, much less a need for an overpass. The local people were suspicious and mounted a successful campaign to stop the destruction of the Church. It transpired that the town officials had believed the rumour that the Spanish conquistadors had buried treasures under the Church and they were eager to destroy the Church and claim their booty. The funny part is that the overpass remains perched above the main street, almost as a folly.

From the nearby bridge over the Loboc River you can look down at the riverside restaurant where people dine on the boats. It looked like a lovely trip down the mangrove-lined river but I would have needed another half-day to do that. Next time I will.

Tommy was keen to visit Danao Adventure Park which is home to “The Plunge”, the highest canyon swing in the world. They also have all kinds of adventure sports from cliff rappelling to river trekking and paragliding. They had recently opened “Xsanity” – the longest zipline in Asia at 1.5 kilometres. We watched as two German men zipped by high above us. When they arrived back I saw that one of them was well into his 60’s. These sports are not for the feint-hearted. Tommy was very disappointed that Regina wouldn’t join him on the zipline. I don’t think so!

Next we stopped at Baclayon Church which is said to be the oldest in the Philippines. Unfortunately the Church had suffered damage in the recent earthquake. The nearby Punta Cruz Watchtower used to serve as a lookout for marauding pirates.

As we drove away from Baclayon I offered Joy a 1,000 peso notes my share of the driver’s fee. Regina said , “No, we are sharing.” I thought she meant that the fee was lower than the initial 3,000 peso fee. I offered her a lower amount and she said, “No, the fee is 3,500 pesos and Tommy and I are sharing half the fee. We (pointing to Tommy in the front seat) are one. Your half is 1,750.” I was already suspicious that the fee had inflated by 500p since we began the trip. I laughed and said, “No, it doesn’t work that way” and gave her 1200pesos.

I suppose they were raging that they hadn’t managed to manipulate me into paying more of the fee and they didn’t speak another word for the rest of the trip. I thought it was rather un-Christian of them. I guess I should have asked them to write down the terms of the agreement in the morning, but one doesn’t like to sound untrusting at the outset. Anyway, the five-hour tour was certainly worth it for €22.

I asked the driver to drop me off at Jagna port so I could see about buying my ticket to Camiguin Island for the next morning. Once that was sorted I decided to take a walk along the seafront. There was no beach but rather shanty houses had been built right down to the shore. As I strolled along the women and children asked me to take their photos. I passed the mosque as the small minaret rang out 4pm prayer time and I admired all of the Persian carpets that had been hung out to dry.

I walked for quite a ways along the shore and saw boys flying their homemade kites and young girls playing with new-born kid goats. I found a little inlet with a group of children swimming. As I waded in cool water the children shouted out to me, “What’s your name??!”

I heard a choir singing and discovered that I had arrived at the community centre. Basketball is the most popular sport in the Philippines and it seems that every town and village had a community centre that doubles as a sheltered basketball court. I thought it was an ingenious idea. I regularly saw groups of schoolchildren practicing for upcoming end-of-term ceremonies on the stage. The bleachers on the sides are perfect for all kinds of audiences. Maybe they have Mass there too on special occasions.

As I walked back along the main road toward the Garden Cafe I met a 74-yr-old woman doing some gardening outside her rattan home. We chatted for a while and then she invited me to see her home and garden. I was delighted to be able to have a glimpse at a Filipina’s home life. Elpedia told me she was 74 and that her children had all grown up and moved away. She introduced me to her husband and niece and then brought me out back to see her chickens and coconut trees. Some of the fallen coconuts had sprouted and were on their way to becoming trees. I’d never seen that before.

Pride of place in Elpedia’s garden were her orchids. They were beautiful and I was rather taken aback when she offered to uproot some and give them to me to take home! I explained that I couldn’t do that because I had a long way to go and they would get crushed. She insisted that all I would have to do was get a permit for export at the port authorities before I sailed the next day. “No thank you, really. It is much better that the orchids show their real beauty in your garden.”

By now it was 6pm and I had to head back to the hostel because it would soon be dark. That evening for dinner I had “chicken and chips” - except that the “chips” turned out to be cornflakes! One unusual thing about dining in the Philippines is that you are always served with a spoon and fork, but not a knife. I never figured out how they eat things like portions of chicken or fish without a knife. At least in China all dishes have bite-sized pieces to suit using chopsticks.

Although my room was very comfortable I didn’t sleep well that night and I didn’t appreciate being woken up at 7:30am by a phone call. The receptionist said I had a visitor. What?! Soon there was a tapping at the door and there stood Elpedia with her orchids and a coconut in a bag. “You only have to apply for a permit at the dock. It won’t take you long.” As I leaned against the wall with the door ajar, forcing my eyes to stay open, I tried to be firm and consistent in my message. I would wait until my next visit when I would bring a suitable container so her beautiful orchids wouldn’t get crush. I had her address and I would surely send her a postcard from Ireland. I promise. She seemed to be happy with that. I know I could have taken the orchids and thrown them overboard but I couldn’t bear to do that.

My ferry to Camiguin wasn’t until 1:30pm so I was able to have a leisurely breakfast and shower to wake me up before I packed and headed the few blocks to the port. “Bye, Elpedia, I’ll be back!” With some trepidation I boarded the ferry to Camiguin, a little island I could admire across the sea but I knew absolutely nothing about. This was really a leap into the unknown and the last two days of my 12-day trip around the wonderful Visayas Islands of the Philippines. All aboard!

I get choked up when I think that I'll soon be reaching the end of this trip to the Philippines,

Sheila

---

Photos

Loboc Church
with unfinished overpass

Loboc River cruise
riverside restaurants

the zip line -
there they go!

Comments

[D MJ Binkley]

Bohol and the Chocolate Hills
We will have to add this area to our explorations once we reach the Philippines. So glad you are blogging once again!

[TinNiE]

it's great to hear your stories. hope you keep on having a great time. x