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| Morning view from our "Penthouse" |
On the pier they clearly
said: one boat at 9:30, one at 10:30, then at 11:30 and 1 PM. Armed
with that knowledge, I grabbed a couple pan de coco
and some other red-stuff filled breakfast rolls and two nescafes and
headed back to pack. One thing was theoretically set, so now time to
pack, pay our bills and leave. I had a problem with booking a hotel
for tonight yesterday. John called it up for us, but the bastards
were suddenly quoting a higher price, apparently the regular rooms
all rented out. Fortunately there is a Tune Hotel in Angeles, right
next to the airport, and Expedia had a good deal so there: done. Not
that I'm such a fan of Tunes but for our last night, we just wanted
to be somewhere convenient. After paying Jemma, we said our farewells
to John and Dive VIP and went to the pier... just to find out that
our 10:30 boat was canceled and the next one was an hour later. I
clearly remember they didn't say anything about it, even had a
schedule from them with the 10:30 boat circled, but apparently it was
canceled a few minutes after I'd come. Right... seriously, getting
any decent, honest and correct information out of a Filipino is like
convincing a whale not to be big. With an hour and a half to kill it
was second breakfast time at our favorite place in Sabang. Wi-Fi'ing,
eating Pinoy breakfast and drinking coffee was a perfect way to kill
the unnecessary time. At 11:30 we finally said goodbye to Oriental
Mindoro.
Boat
ride was sleepy, although a bit wet at times. The crew went to a lot
of effort to pull down the shades and foil covers mostly around the
two of us, yet we ended up being the only people on the boat soaked
on a big wave. After our previous experience with runners, scammers,
hustlers, cheats and other types of predatory scumbags we decided
that the only answer to any inquiry to where we're going, do we need
help with our luggage, a taxi or anything else in the vicinity of
help would be either “no” or “fuck off”. Usually “no”
worked well enough fortunately, followed by an evil stare if needed.
Perhaps because we're darker now and look a bit wiser the scumbags
knew better not to hassle us too much. We jumped on a bus heading to
Cubao (not having a bloody idea where it is) in hope that it would
drop us off close to Clark airport and Angeles. The driver claimed it
would, but after dealing with “helpful people” around here, we
could never be certain of anything.
Four
hours later, I'm sitting reasonably close to my destination in a
Jollybee fast food restaurant, trying to figure out why oh why did I
break my promise to myself to never trust a Filipino again. I checked
our transfer to our hotel near Clark airport. Boat to Batangas, then
any bus to Buendia bus terminal in Manila then a bus to Angeles and
we're set. Of course with all the bother with the luggage and all
when a chance came up to go to Angeles from Batangas directly we, or
rather I, jumped on it immediately. The driver assured and reassured
me that it would stop at Angeles. So here it is, in no plainer words:
DON'T TRUST A FILIPINO!
The
bus never got to Angeles. Cubao turned out to be just a suburb of
Manila at which the bus stopped its run. Next we had to hop on to a
bus going to Dau, near Angeles, for there were no buses going to
Angeles. And that's where we are stuck now. I'm once again getting
into the state that the next person that talks to me will get his
fucking face bashed in and brains will be plopping up and down on the
street. The swindling, lying, cheating, hustling little fuckers will
do anything to get your money out of you, including give you wrong
information that you for example use their bus. And what makes me
just a little bit more upset, now we're stuck in an area surrounded
by a gang trikes, and any taxi that stops and I attempt to talk to is
immediately surrounded by them saying something and trying to
“negotiate” the price for me. Of course negotiating it up, how
else could it be? And there is a distinct feeling that their trying
to intimidate the taxi driver. Here is how it's gonna work out: I'm
NOT putting Krysia in a trike by herself and half our luggage. It's
simply about safety, not about money and she's not that happy about
getting into a trike by herself anyways.
The
amount of misinformation you get from these people is incredible. No
one is willing to help, they plainly try to rip you off, even try to
renegotiate the price after the fact, play stupid when you ask them
the simplest question... It's sad... it's really, sad. I come to
realization: I WANT to trust people when I travel, but many a time I
can't. I do make friends easily, I strike up conversations easily, I
enjoy sharing views, beers or even rooms with people. I am the first
one in a group to take in a local meal and to chat up a local. But
Philippines, like Egypt beforehand, has scarred me severely. Not to
discount a whole nation: there are plenty of fantastic people around
(some of them married into my family), but on a random chance, you
are more likely to run into a scumbag on a street than a nice person.
Finally
fed up, after running up and down a street like headless chickens, we
took a jeepney to Angeles City. We actually found one, a public one,
meaning not the 600 or 700 pesos they were asking but... 10. And off
we went, stuck like sardines in a can once again, with our oversized
luggage, a guy with rapidly cooling pizzas, a screaming baby, and a
couple incredibly interested in the sound of our Polish conversation
(I get to practice my Polish quite a bit here when I don't want
Filipinos to understand what I'm saying). We dropped off somewhere
and... nothing. We're nowhere near our hotel. And what made it more
frustrating, no one, absolutely no one knew where the fuck we were.
People said: “Go that way”, “No, go that way”, “You're
here”, “No, you're here”. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for what I'm
about to do (i.e. insult the entire nation), but does any Filipino
know their own asshole from a hole in the ground? I mean seriously, I
ask three or four people on for the address of their store, and none
of them knows! I was about to explode, so I suggested going into an
internet cafe to try to find our location. Here is where the story
finally takes a turn for the better.
A lady
came into the cafe, looking for two lost foreigners (that was us by
the way!). Carmen, that was her name, heard from her husband (who we
earlier asked for directions) that we were somewhat lost and wanted
to help out. And indeed, she helped us find our location on Google
maps, then helped us grab a private jeepney and negotiate a
“reasonably” good price and then even went with her husband on a
scooter to make sure we got to our hotel safely. Bloody hell! Carmen
my dear, thank you for saving the shreds of Filipino dignity. As I
stated above, I like people and I want to trust them, but this
country makes this damn difficult. But you came just in the nick of
time, before I suggested carpet nuclear bombing the entire nation.
When we finally saw the neon signs of Tune Hotel, we almost screamed
in joy. Krysia wanted her address to send her some gift or a
postcard, but I'll let handle that. At this point I was simply glad
to be at our hotel. We checked in, I nipped out to 7-Eleven for two 1
liter strong beers and some express Hot Rice meals and into the
sleepy void I go.
P.S. I saw a billboard today in Manilla that said "If you hate it RANT, if you love if RAVE". This is one of the rant ones. I just wander what Stefan and Nina who are travelling in similar conditions through the same country are thinking right now? Really guys, I'm not as big of a hostile, negative whiner as this post comes out to be.
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