A well-travelled local suggested a visit to Port Barton on the Island of Palawan while we were waiting to get trendy trims at a popular barber shop. With no expectations, I signed up to spend two of my remaining nights there while still in the Philippines.
Port Barton is a small town with quite a trippy vibe. Picture loads of colourful beanbags, deep house music, questionable cocktails, and some tourists looking like they may have sipped on some psychedelic juice. Interestingly, there were tons of young Israelis! I got chatting to a few with American accents. I passed as a 25-year-old when asked the aged question. It was fun masquerading as a youth.
Before sunset, I flopped on a beanbag (which may have seen some vomit in its time) and simply observed my surroundings. School children were hiking home across the beach as tourists sipped on suds and sangria. An elderly fisherman was preparing his nets and boat for launch. Couples were bobbing in the water near big “Jellyfish Warning!” signs. Seabirds flew overhead which looked like paper cutouts. There is such joy that comes from simply sitting still and watching the World go by.
I overheard some youths talking about how wankered they had gotten the night before. On my first night, I ventured towards some live music, which ended up becoming a quiz night, with one of the hosts standing on the bar and pouring alcohol down willing throats. A team of three ladies were kind enough to let me join their quiz team. We crushed it!
I signed up to do an island tour the next day and was the first person to arrive. Once at sea after being directed to a boat, I got informed that I was on the wrong one! But it mattered not, and I was happily hosted with an awesome group of mixed nationalities. One snorkeling stop was above a wartime shipwreck – the base of which was 25 meters deep. I’ve been trying my hand/lungs at freediving, but the locals must have gills, because they were underwater for eternity with a single, handmade fin on the foot!
Philippines Final Thoughts:
I was diagnosed as bipolar at age 29 (inconclusive), when I was very poor, lazy, slept a lot, didn’t exercise, and had been single for most of my adult life. I have been taking meds ever since, yet I did not experience ONE wobble since being in the Philippines for nearly two months! That has really given my delicate brain a lot to ponder. Loneliness is a real killer. I never felt such while in the Philippines . . .
If I shaved my face and dressed a little differently, I could probably pass as Filipino. I would not live in one of the big cities though. Traffic congestion is hectic with tons of cars. Bikers wear colourful, long-sleeved racing shirts and much fancier helmets with visors and proper padding compared to other SE Asian countries. On very hot days, some locals look like Somali pirates with full headscarves and sunglasses. Some of the older men look really rough – like they have definitely seen some shit in their time.
Getting an extension on my 30-day, visa-free visit was interesting. I rode past a horde of police with big guns, as well as another group of armed humans dressed in white. Perhaps the navy? Visor down, I took a deep breath and slipped past! Some very no-nonsense women at the immigration office gave me an extension on my stay after queuing with some anxious-looking foreigners. It’s interesting to note that one can extend a visa by 3 months, for a nominal fee and no naughty history.
It was hard to leave Port Barton and the rest of the Philippines behind (for now), but exiting was not easy. It had bucketed down with rain on the day of my departure and I had been bitten all over by something the night before (possibly sand flies). I was wet, cold, itchy, and all my backpacking had torn a hole in one of my fancier shirts. It took 12 hours to get to Manila in such a state.
Things got funnier when trying to leave Manila for Bangkok. My clothes had become so damp from rain, sweat and tears, that my luggage was overweight at the airport! It was one of those situations where everything seemed to go wrong. I was short by just a few measly coins to pay for my extra weight and had to rejoin a queue while fishing around for stray coins. A horde of people in front of me were taking as much time as humanly possible trying to find their required documents. Then it was a staff change. The new recruit took her sweet time to remove her ear-pods.
I was about to miss my flight. I was the first one in the elevator, but soon got joined by the same disorganised horde who were laughing away about God-knows-what. No one pressed the button to reach the correct floor. When one eventually did, the doors reopened JUST before shutting, to let in one more straggler! So painful. Upon landing, I regretfully chose to share a minivan to get to my digs which was 40-minutes away. It took 3 hours in the end . . .
Nevertheless! The Philippines has been an absolute highlight of my SE Asian travels, and I KNOW I will be back. I’m coming for you Future Partner. I feel like there we shalt meet. Can’t wait.
Previously: Philippines #9: El Nido & Coron
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