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Published: February 2nd 2009
*Sorry about the pictures, doubles, etc., the internet has been hit or miss for about a week now, and i'm not exactly sure what's gonna make the blog or not*
Our second day in the Philippines was going to consist of a day trip outside of the mayhem that is Manila, about thirty miles to the south. As trip planning usually goes, our original ideas of getting to the northern part of the country ended up being a bit grandiose for the time we had on the ‘mainland.’ We thought we’d get our nature fix in the way of the active Taal Volcano. What is described as, ‘rising majestically from the middle of Taal Lake.’ All we needed to do was grab a bus to Tangaytay city, catch a tricycle to Talisay, jump on a boat to the volcano, giddy-up a horse to the top, snap a few photos, and then do it all in reverse to get home. Easy, right?
We woke up and had breakfast at our hostel. They have this beautiful little outdoor bar set up in the garden area where they also serve breakfast, a place where one could grow accustomed to the morning sunshine.
This charged up our batteries for our first missions before we even left the Manila calamity behind, that is, exchange some money and find a bus.
First things first, we grabbed what we needed and flagged down the closest tricycle. It wasn’t hard since they number in the gazillions around here. He dropped us off at the exchange place I attempted to the day before. Seeing Cass cross the street made me feel like we were playing a part in one of the Jason Bourne movies. It didn’t feel real to be smack dab in the middle of Manila, Philippines; more like on a Hollywood set. At 8:00 in the morning the intersection was a hub of activity, the fresh fruit stands were open and doing business, the mini marts were already full, and the streets were buzzing with trikes, Jeepneys, cars, exhaust, and the ubiquitous sound of honking.
We hopped on another Jeepney, did the routine yell of, ‘Baclaran’ over the roar of the 1970’s engine, and passed what we thought the fair would be. Baclaran is the neighborhood where the LRT, or Light Rail Transport (imagine the rundown parts of Chicago’s ‘L’ subway system only with
Filipinos constantly gawking at you like some kind of zoo animal) is, and where you could grab basically any type of transportation you needed within a couple of blocks. Armed with one of those silly tourist maps of the city we grabbed at the front desk, we had a vague idea the direction we needed to turn. I gotta hand it to Cass, because without her, I would have ended up somewhere in the middle of Manila Bay.
We elbowed our way through the market place, with my hand on my wallet and Cass death-gripping her purse, navigated a couple of dingy streets, and made it over a jam packed footbridge before we stopped to check our progress.
Just as soon as I pointed in the direction of the bus station, Cass shouted, ‘Tangaytay, right?’
‘Yeah. The bus station is this way, I think.’
‘It says it on that bus! Hey, hey!!!’
Right then, in the middle of one of the busiest thoroughfares, in one of the most congested cities in the world, the door of the bus flew open, and a head with the whitest smile ever popped out and waved us over. Over
the traffic, we screamed ‘Tangaytay?’ He nodded and waved with even more energy. After a session of Frogger to reach the stopped bus, we settled in the back, and high fived each other for making it this far.
One note about some of the conditions we’ve seen since arriving here. I’ve never been to Mexico City, but Cass sees a lot of it in and around Manila. The houses we’ve seen everywhere are no bigger than average bedrooms, built of what looks like scrap metal and lumber, the roofs are almost all corrugated steel, floors are barren earth, and there is usually a chicken or two leashed up outside the front door. Poverty like this does exist in the world, not just on the television, and not just a small amount, either. It is something to behold when you realize this perspective and see things first hand no matter how many times you are exposed to it. What exchanged to be roughly $2 for us, bought our Intramuros bike driver a new pair of shoes. Just imagine what good we all could do…
Two hours later, through some of the most poverty stricken rural areas I’ve ever witnessed,
the ticket man waved at us and shouted, ‘Tangaytay,’ since we obviously didn’t know where we were, or really what we were doing. We stepped out to a station of tricycles willing to take us anywhere. Some shouted their intentions; others looked at us with indifference, some went about their business after a quick half glance. We had no other idea than to get some food in us asap. We consulted our trusty guidebook for a recommendation, and we settled on one of coolest restaurants I’ve ever been to, Josephine’s.
The restaurant is an ultra modern building, akin to a country club lodge, perched on top of a thousand foot cliff overlooking Lake Taal and Taal Volcano. When you first walk in the doors, you are blown away by the view; the multi-leveled building gives you stadium seating from literally any corner you choose. The panorama was stunning and we found out soon enough, the food was just as good as the scenery.
That pleasant surprise finished, we decided to grab a tricycle and see what Talisay had to offer. After a small fee and forty minutes of being thrown around a half constructed, switch-backed, meandering path that
barely hugs onto the cliffs edge, we pulled into a random driveway. Apparently, the only reason for two white folks to wander into this sleepy little hamlet on the shore of the lake was to catch a ride to the island. Our driver must have assumed this and took us directly to his buddies dock. We got the strong feeling they were in cahoots together.
The second we unfolded ourselves from the steel blending machine that was the sidecar, we were attacked by a man claiming to have the best deal around getting to the island. Now, from above, at Josephine’s Restaurant, this volcano looked to rival some of the most picturesque out there, but when we laid our eyes on it from the water level, we were entirely disappointed. This little guy barely broke the surface, and at its highest point was no more than a few thousand feet. In other words, majestic, it is not.
“3,500 piso. This is best deal anywhere. You go and rent a horse get to the top in, maybe thirty minutes. You walk, maybe hour and a half, very difficult. You barter and get good deal there too. Very beautiful, you
see boiling water, steam. Very beautiful.” It all sounded fine to us, but we just wanted to bum around the city for the day, not spend a bunch of time getting haggled into taking a boat to an island just to get harassed into renting a horse to climb the three miles to the crater.
So… That’s just what we did. We came this far we might as well see what this thing has to offer. Before we knew it, we were decked out in ponchos, life vests, and on our way to Taal Volcano. The boat ride was no more than a half hour and we got completely drenched by the waves and the wind in that time. We pulled up to dock where there were several other boats and stepped into a totally different world.
There was a small community of people living on this island making their money from renting and guiding their horses up and down the volcano. We were instantly bombarded by vendors who wanted to sell us anything from bottled water, to facemasks to keep out the dust on the trail. Being kind of roped into taking the boat over, neither Cass
nor I were really in the mood to wheel and deal again, but that’s exactly what we had to do.
The offer to rent the horses originally was 3,500 piso, and, again, Cass gets the Academy Award for this one. As soon as she heard that number, she instantly said no and started walking back to the boat. But they keep after you, and keep after you, and Cass stood strong, ‘it’s not even that tall, we won’t even see anything up there, I don’t even really want to go up (which was kind of true), I don’t really like horses all that much (also true).’ We got a thousand piso knocked off and we were ready to giddy up.
The trail would’ve been a bear to hike; it went practically straight up the mountain and consisted of very loose sand and dirt. Everyone was required to have guides. We had two younger guides, and they hopped right on the back of the horse with us, held on tight and up we went.
The top was surprisingly beautiful. There was a small observation deck overlooking the picturesque crater lake. We stayed there for only a few snapshots
and found a trail that ran along the rim. We followed it until we couldn’t anymore and stayed there for a while. We could smell the sulfur of the steam vents, see the gasses rising, the small white huts used to track the volcanic activity, and a splendid 360 degree view. It was wonderful.
The way down went quick, my guide asked if I wanted to gallop so of course I said ‘yes,’ but I had no idea what I was in for. This was the first time I had been on a horse in probably a decade or more, and I know there will be some horse people that may read this and laugh at my ignorance, but I had no idea how painful this was going to be on my “man parts.” The horse, overall, is pointed downhill, so you, as a person, have a tendency to slide forward. Pair that concept together with; one, there is a large horn like structure in the front center of the saddle for you to hold onto and, two, your horse is GALLOPING! Unpleasant to say the least. The only thought that kept clinging onto consciousness was that with each
stride we were a stride closer to the end.
Our boat driver was there waiting for us and we were on our way home in no time. It just took the boat to a tricycle, wait to catch a Jeepney to town, another tricycle to the bus stop, a bus to a restaurant in Manila, another Jeepney, tricycle, and we’re back at the hostel. For not having any real set plans, we came away winners as far as Taal Volcano goes.
The next day we boarded a plane to head to conceivably the most beautiful beaches in the world… Boracay.
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Marc
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Galloping down a volcano..
That wasn't an easy feat! But it was worth it, yeah?