Bangued to Olongapo

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After a 6 hour bus ride from Bangued, Krista, Devy and I arrived at a quaint resort just outside of San Fernando, aptly named Coconut Grove Beach Resort. There, we were to meet up with Darcy, who was on his way and would be arriving some hours after we did. With a restaurant/bar area overlooking the ocean and a lovely pool surrounded by palm trees, we were quite content and set about relaxing. Shortly after a bite to eat and a swim in a pool with unnaturally soft water, there appeared a tricycle bearing a familiar face. Finally, the real traveling was about to begin. We stayed there for just one night, and during the next day we ventured into San Fernando in hopes to extend our visa that was to expire just two days before our scheduled departure from the Philippines on January 10th. After a visit to a branch of the Canadian embassy, we were directed to the Department of Immigration, some miles away. So, we hailed a tricycle and the three of us clambered on, put-putting towards our destination. As we arrived we were greeted by a stone-faced guard and a sign on the front gate reading, "Formal Attire Required: No Slippers, No Shorts, And Full Shirts." I have not the faintest clue as to why this standard of dress was required, for it was well over 30 degrees and is nearly every day. I only imagine how many tourists have been inconveniently turned away, or for those who had no long pants, nor shoes, never allowed in at all. But, we rode back quickly, dressed properly and from there the process went smoothly.

Around noon we departed Coconut Grove, waiting for and flagging down a bus on its way to Baguio City. Up and up we ascended, into thickly forested mountains, amidst spectacular views of plummeting valley and volcanic peaks. As we climbed higher and higher, we became immersed in cloud, and then rose above it. If you were to look over the edge of the cliff, you would see only thick, white fog. This, in turn, led to the wonderful sensation that you were on a floating mountain. Just when it seemed we could not possibly drive any higher, the incline leveled off and before us, sprawled over the mountainside, was the first glimpse of Baguio City. The mile-high city, as it is referred to, for it is almost exactly one mile above sea level. Once off the bus, we settled down with our luggage at a restaurant to have a bite to eat, while Darcy went off in search of accomodation. After a half hour, he returned, though clearly undecided, and wanted to search in the other direction. I accompanied him this time. We walked down near the edge of the city's prominent park and cut through a soccer field, whereupon he saw a familiar hotel rising out of the urban clutter, not far from where we were. Hotel Veniz; Darcy explained that it had been recommended to him by a forgotten acquaintance. Once we scouted it out and found there was ample space for us, he took it, not least because the trekking and searching was tiresome.

That same evening Krista, Devy and I walked a few blocks to the enormous SM Mall, which one could see from nearly anywhere in the city centre, situated on top of a peak. We spent more time in the stall set up on the front steps, comprised mostly of native handicrafts and souvenirs, than we did in the actual mall. While Devy set off into the department store, Krista and I ventured over to an open-air balcony, overlooking the city lights, covering the nearby mountainside. The view was worth the hike up the peak alone, and we lingered for a few moments to appreciate its beauty. Taking a taxi back to our hotel, we arrived to find Darcy having just finished supper and prepared to explore the nearby nightlife. And so, we walked down (or rather, up) a street he suspected of having the best bars, particularly one he had read about with live music (a must for him). And, unknowingly, walked into that exact bar upon hearing some live voices pouring down from the second level; 108 Session Road was the name. Luckily, we managed to get a hold of the last table in the entire place (on the balcony, nonetheless), and ordered some drinks. The entertainment consisted of two female vocalists and a male guitarist, though they all took their turns singing. The women had incredible voices, and the tracklist was relatively familiar and contained some good music. The guitarist also performed a set by himself, mostly pop/rock, even singing a few Beatles tunes much to the glee of the crowd. Throughout the night, with drinks in hand, we four sat and conversation passed easily between us, all the while enjoying the music and the city street sights just off the balcony.

The next morning, we squeezed in a brief tour of the city sight's, hiring a van and driver to take us about before our check-out time. We journey into Camp John Hay, a former American army base, transformed into a resort area of sorts. We passed by magnificently structured 5-star hotels, one of which even had its own golf course, and stopped for a photo at a miniature Statue of Liberty, atop a hill. The entire area, though I can't remember the exact size, was covered with short, bermuda grass, and with tall, skinny trees, lending shade to almost everywhere we went. We stopped at a small market, with a view over the mountains, where Krista, Devy and I were adorned with the native people's (I believe their name is the Igorot, though I am not sure of the spelling) traditional garb. We wandered around the stalls, with Devy not able to pull herself away from any of them. My purpose when searching around these sorts of stalls is to find the odd, unique item, not to replenish my supply of always-similar tourist-y souvenirs and shirts that so overcrowds them. Lingering for no more than an hour, we headed off to the last sight we had time for: a Chinese pagoda. Covered in picturesque, red-trimmed, Chinese architecture, with a couple bronze statues and a climb up through a pleasant pathway with a nice garden, it was a worthwhile visit. The pictures we took will be a better testament to the place than I can muster with my description. Our tour guide was kind enough to wait for us as we checked-out of Hotel Veniz, and promptly drove us to the bus station. We climbed aboard a bus, employed by the company Victory Liner, and we were off to a city called Angeles.

About half an hour into our bus ride, after much stopping and resuming of the trip, we pulled onto the side of the road due to a transmission malfunction. Quite absurdly, the bus driver and his counterpart were calling for a mechanic to drive out and attempt a repair, instead of calling for an empty bus which is the standard procedure for such situations. They were not even going to give us our money back if we ended up having to catch one of the many other buses passing us by. Understandably, Devy was angry at this outcome of events and gave the drivers quite the earful. They finally called in for another bus and, after a total of two hours of waiting, it arrived and our journey down the mountains resumed. Arriving in Angeles at night, we tricycled around with all of our luggage, trying to find a room. We finally settled in the EuroAsia Hotel which, compared to most that we had looked at, was cheaper and of better quality. The room was very clean, well-stocked and was only steps away to the pool area, which had an attached bar and restaurant. Needless to say, we were very happy at our find. Our days in Angeles were spent relaxing during the day, taking full advantage of the pool and the sun. Both nights were spent bar-hopping, and on an impossibly hard quest to find some decent rock n' roll music. The first, the girls went back early and so Darcy and I criss-crossed along the streets amidst neon signs and beckoning door girls. Nearly all of the bars we ended up in played nothing but mind-numbing dance and pop songs, unless we requested otherwise. Even then, they would play one or two rock n' roll songs, but usually not more. On the second night, we managed to find a live band and all four of us hunkered down to enjoy. It was a welcome relief, though when Darcy and I returned for the second set, it seemed they had lost their energy. And so our time in Angeles came to an end.

Our next stop was here in Subic Bay, near a city by the name of Olongapo. We took our previous hotel's private van for the two hour drive and the driver also doubled as a tour guide. Infinitely more comfortable than a crammed, public bus, the trip was pleasant and full of pretty scenery. We passed volcanos, one of them recently active, some of the most uniquely shaped mountains, one or two being a near perfect conical shape, and the huts of the first indigenous people of the Philippines. Once arrived, we again scouted out a few different places for a room, and settled on the one I am currently writing this entry at: Treasure Island Resort. A quaint, little place with not more than 20 rooms altogether, but beachfront, with wi-fi, a pool, a bar that floats offshore on the ocean, and quite a well-rounded menu. Last night, Darcy, Krista and I went off to find a bar with some live music, and as it was a Monday there seemed little hope. But, while in a bar we stopped in briefly, the bartender pointed us in the direction of a place called Bar Barettos, where there was apparently a live band playing that very night. They did not disappoint, and their setlist was the best of any I have heard since here. Playing classic hits, and beginning their set with all three parts of Another Brick In The Wall, we enjoyed it very much.

There is also a mysterious white castle, with red parapets, that lies in the middle of the bay, on the smallest of rock outcroppings. Although today we went on a small boat tour around the bay, we only came close and were not allowed to get off and explore it. I am extremely curious as to why it is there, and what purpose it may have once served.

Anyways, my entry comes to a close now.

Until next time,

Jord::

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