Week 4 -- Paradise Found
Puerto Galera is a sparsely inhabited island three hours by motorboat from Manila. Last weekend it became engraved in my memory as something approaching paradise. After a week of endless TPS reports and Stolichnaya 7s, the Frenchies and I chartered a boat and sailed south out of the port of Batangas to P.G., accompanied by Norman, an ex-Goldman associate, Bob, and two chicks – a 21-year-old British embassy clerk and a 5’11” Spanish-Filipina model.
The beach, almost uninhabited, surpasses anything in Hawaii – white sands, perfectly clear water backed by mountainous jungle, pristine coral reefs about ten minutes offshore. The prices were almost a third of what we faced in Manila, a twelfth of those in the US. $5 a night for a bungalow on the beach -- running water, lights, not much else; $2 for a pail of San Miguels; 50c for a tuna sandwich and a coke; $20 a day for a boat, split six ways; $2 for an hour long massage on the beach.
It is difficult to express the sense of relief this place brought me. After weeks of ten hour days banging my head against investment manuals, building PowerPoints, and baking under fluorescent lighting, followed by ten hour nights drinking, dancing, and partying, my spirit was about to give out. I had been surviving on four to six hours of drunken sleep a day; I was exhausted, sick of Manila, and ready to lie on the sands and wilt.
When, in this state, you are suddenly confronted by nothing but peace and warmth – a whole island dedicated to relaxation at a nominal fee – the sensation of release is without comparison. I can perhaps now understand why people in Manila don’t go insane under the heavy traffic, thick smog, and mindlessness of the work they are forced to endure (Bob, for instance, who has to sit around 60% of his day waiting for me). They work so they can get out into the country, which is the true jewel of the Philippines. The transition from Manila to Puerto Galera recalled for me Dante’s passage from hell to the beaches of Purgatory – utter constriction to open air.
The Philippines is an archipelago of over 7,100 islands – many of which are nothing but a few acres of beach and scattered coconut palms. We chartered a small boat and spent the whole day sailing around the coast, exploring deserted beaches and small islands, snorkeling, reef hopping, swimming and diving. On the reefs, fishermen keep small stores on their boats, selling coral shoes and barbequing squid and catfish for passersby. Despite the shoes, I ended up ripping my foot open on coral while we were crossing the reefs. The fish are just like Hawaii, if not better – big schools of neon colors – bright blue, orange, green – in a pool on one island we swam with ten or twenty baby sharks. If you sail into deeper waters, you can scuba with dolphins and whale sharks, the largest fish in the world. Scuba is big here; they can certify you in Manila in a couple days, but I haven’t had time – apparently the certificate is pretty dubious, like most things in this country. Looking back, I have not had a better day in a long while – eight or nine hours in the sun, in the surf, swimming through reefs, lying on beaches, being massaged for pennies. We ended up at 5PM sitting on a deserted island drinking milk out of baby coconuts with straws. My Manila hangover had been all but washed away.
Ask me about the jellyfish.
Going to the reef.
Hiyana Beach.
Workin' it.
Drunkenly molestin' it. Look at that hand placement.
