Inevitably, when I update the Birdcrap Counter I receive a slew of responses about how lucky I am. It is true that in most cultures, getting defacated on by a winged creature (and, I’ve been told, a gecko) is extremely lucky. It is also true that I have been extremely lucky on a personal level – 2 years doing what I’ve always dreamed of, with a set of energetic, fascinating new friends and some incredible memories.

So bring it on, birds of the world. It’s a small price to pay for the aggregate of my many adventures on the road.

* * *

Crap 10: Bangkok, Thailand

The Crap: I was on my way to the hospital this morning, to get a chest x-ray and a doctor to figure out why my cough has been worsening day by day. (The answer, it turns out, involves my nights spent inhaling black smoke from the tyres burning on my corner.)

The beautiful garden outside my room in Din Daeng

Living in a garden has its benefits: lovely green vines, a cosy place to read – and many colourful birds. Among them, the Asian Koel who not only wakes me at 4am with its ‘wah-waaaaah’ sounds, but also likes the look of my head.

Crap 9: Yangon, Myanmar

The Crap:In the midst of explaining that birds love to take a crap on my head, a pigeon decided to punctuate the tale by shitting on me. The fact that I was actually talking about the Official BirdCrap Counter to a Canadian couple whilst the crap occurred was extraordinary. Being Burma, a crowd gathered within seconds as the 3 of us doubled over with laughter at the side of a busy street, wondering what had us so out-of-control.

The culprit: Yangon, Myanmar.

Craps 7 & 8. Nyangshwe, Inle Lake, Myanmar

The Crap: A twofer, courtesy of Burmese birds. The first crap occurred while I was standing outside of the beautiful Mingalar Inn, my home in Nyangshwe for the week. I had, of course, just showered and washed my hair. While talking to the owner about my day, a magpie let a huge one rip and it landed squarely on my skull. Trying to explain the Birdcrap Counter to the hotel was a huge fail, but at least Honza and Sergey, two new traveling friends, had a good laugh at my expense. That night, as the 3 of us were drinking wine, another bird shat on my head (and on my bag – it was a spread-out crap). On the bright side: I had witnesses for my 2nd twofer of the Official Birdcrap Counter.

Crap 6: El Nido, The Philippines

The Crap: Spending several months in El Nido gifted me some of the happiest memories of my life – and Crap #6. Nestled into the Bacuit Bay and surrounded by huge karst cliffs, the town is ground zero of a multitude of bird species, one of which took a liking to my small head. The unfortunate event occurred while I was scaling one of the limestone cliffs, so by the time I returned to town I stunk like it was nobody’s business.

Crap 5: Ko Phang-an, Thailand

The Crap: A month of yoga on a tropical island should translate into a state of total zen. And while I was calmer than I’ve ever been, Crap #5 didn’t make me smile. There might have been a small temper tantrum on Haad Salad beach.

Yeah, well I’m watching you too, birdie.

Crap 4: Gandantegchinlen Monastery, Ulan-Bator, Mongolia

The Crap: Pigeons are considered good luck in Mongolia, and feeding them is encouraged. As a result, there are plenty of pigeons to go around, which becomes abundantly clear when visiting a monastery, aka a pigeon-feeding zone. Crap #4 had me spluttering with rage when a pigeon let one loose on my head and then landed next to me and looked up, expecting food. He did not get any.

Mongolia’s monasteries: pigeon central

Crap 3: The Galapagos Islands, Ecuador

The Crap: En route to the lovely Isla Española in the Galapagos Islands, a trail of giant frigate birds followed our boat in its wake, weaving to and fro above us. Of course, this meant that one of them took a shit. And of course, it landed on me. Given the size of these birds, let’s just say I needed more than 1 shower to clean it off.

Frigate birds, incoming!

Craps 1 & 2: Paracas, Peru.

The Crap: When winding my way up the coast of Peru, a visit to Paracas made perfect sense. Known as Peru’s Galapagos, the Islas Ballestas and the Paracas National Park are home to cormorants, penguins, condors, pelicans and flamingos, as well as dolphins, sea lions, turtles, sharks and more. Unfortunately for me, the sheer volume of birds meant that I was statistically doomed to be shat upon. Which I was, twice. And every other tourist in the boat got out unscathed.

Cormorants, waiting to crap on me in Paracas, Peru.

And thus concludes the current state of the Official Birdcrap Counter. With  only a few weeks left on this trip before heading back home for the summer, I am curious to see whether I’ll have a #11 to report.

Until then, warily watching the sky wherever I go,

Jodi

The post Updated Birdcrap Counter: 10 Craps in 26 Months appeared first on Legal Nomads.

What does it all mean? To the mirth of those sitting nearby in internet cafes, I have Googled whether most cultures believe that bird shit is lucky. Per Wikipedia, if one or more birds defecates on you or your property in Russia, it is good luck and might bring you riches. There are a slew of Yahoo! Answers threads directly on topic, with typically asinine responses. And of course, in each country where a bird has crapped on me, the locals are customarily thrilled on my behalf, and have often asked me to go with them to buy a lottery ticket. No, I’ve never won.

Given the pattern of Birdcrap Counting that has woven itself into my travels, I figured it was high time that I documented the crap for my readers. And so, without further ado: behold the craps that have fallen upon my person in the last 22 months.

Craps 1 & 2: Paracas, Peru.

The Crap(s): When winding my way up the coast of Peru, a visit to Paracas made perfect sense. Known as Peru’s Galapagos, the Islas Ballestas and the Paracas National Park are home to cormorants, penguins, condors, pelicans and flamingos, as well as dolphins, sea lions, turtles, sharks and more. Unfortunately for me, the sheer volume of birds meant that I was statistically doomed to be shat upon. Which I was, twice. And every other tourist in the boat got out unscathed.

Cormorants, waiting to crap on me in Paracas, Peru.

Crap 3: The Galapagos Islands, Ecuador

The Crap: En route to the lovely Isla Española in the Galapagos Islands, a trail of giant frigate birds followed our boat in its wake, weaving to and fro above us. Of course, this meant that one of them took a shit. And of course, it landed on me. Given the size of these birds, let’s just say I needed more than 1 shower to clean it off.

Frigate birds, incoming!

Crap 4: Gandantegchinlen Monastery, Ulan-Bator, Mongolia

The Crap: Pigeons are considered good luck in Mongolia, and feeding them is encouraged. As a result, there are plenty of pigeons to go around, which becomes abundantly clear when visiting a monastery, aka a pigeon-feeding zone. Crap #4 had me spluttering with rage when a pigeon let one loose on my head and then landed next to me and looked up, expecting food. He did not get any.

The post The Official Birdcrap Counter: Documenting the Crap appeared first on Legal Nomads.

Until I manage to write up my magical time in the Cordillera mountains, here is a small taste:

View of the Batad rice terraces on the hike back toward Banaue.

Though the recent typhoons have caused a considerable amount of damage, my friends in Manila have said that the roads are open to Northern Luzon once more and the terraces are slowly being repaired.

-Jodi

The post Featured Photo: Batad Rice Terraces, The Philippines appeared first on Legal Nomads.

As most of you know, Typhoon Ketsana (or Ondoy in the Philippines*) wreaked havoc across the Philippines, Vietnam and Cambodia. Metro Manila was almost entirely underwater, and remains in bad shape: they received a year’s worth of water in a mere 6 hours. Cainta Rizal, near Metro Manila, was entirely underwater save for a small sliver of land that was above the flooding grounds.

Boston’s The Big Picture has some hard-hitting pictures of the flooding, and with another big storm (Super-typhoon Parma, or in the Philippines, Pepeng) barrelling toward the Philippines, the volunteer and rescue teams will be stretched to the breaking point.

Many people have written me to ask about my friends in the Philippines. The family I lived with in El Nido is fine; the storm did not make landfall over in Palawan, but in mainland Philippines near Manila. I am waiting to hear from several friends in Manila who have been unable to access their phones and internet; I hope that they made it to higher ground and have managed to find their family members in all the resulting chaos.

Others have asked about how to donate to the recovery and rescue efforts, and information is as follows:

Donations can be made via the Philippine Red Cross’ website.

Google also has an extremely thorough Help for Typhoon Ondoy Victims page, with lists of donation sites, in-kind donations and how you can help from NYC, San Francisco and other American cities via local groups.

To-the-minute updates of Ondoy news can be found via Google News here.

And finally, and new storms can be tracked via Typhoon 2000.

-Jodi

* PAGASA, the national weather bureau in the Philippines, renames typhoons once they come into the Philippine Active Region.

The post Typhoon Ondoy (Ketsana) and How You Can Help appeared first on Legal Nomads.

A typhoon is currently barreling toward Samar and Leyte, and the preliminary storms have already begun to drench Manila in terrifically strong rain. I waited at least 30 minutes for a cab, only to have it stolen by a wizened old lady who swept in out of nowhere and jumped in the front seat, flashing me a toothless grin as the cab sped off.

Not so dry in Manila.

I took the next taxi, and five minutes into my ride the following dialogue occurred:

Cabbie: Ma’am. You will pay 50 pesos extra because we will be stuck in traffic.

Me: No, I will pay the metered fare. That’s how it works.

Cabbie: No, you will pay 50 pesos extra because TRAFFIC.

Me: No, I will call the taxi commission and report that you are trying to scam a nice girl like me.

Cabbie: [Thinking for a good 5 minutes]

Cabbie: Ok, no extra charge and then no calling taxi commission?

Me: Ok.

Cabbie: You look like a nice white girl but you are not nice.

Me: I’ve heard that before.

*  *  *

Ah, Manila. It’s almost time for me to leave the Philippines. That this country and its unique take on life, food and rum left an indelible impression on me is fairly obvious by my blog entries and my perma-smile; I’m leaving but also wracking my brain as to when I can come back again soon.

-Jodi

-Jodi

The post A Conversation with My Cab Driver in Manila appeared first on Legal Nomads.

1. Mangos, as many times a day as possible.
2. The kids yelling balut (sounding more like “Bah-luuuuuuut!”) as the sun sets into the sea, and watching everyone run out to buy some.
3. The El Nido air siren at night.
4. Bartender Boyet‘s delicious buko (coconut) shakes.
5. The children screaming and waving hello every time I leave the house.
6. Chloe, the neighbour’s dog, and her very specific howl when she gets upset about anything and everything.
7. RenRen, the assistant chef, asking me if I have “a sick”.
8. The insanity of the local disco – take away the ladyboys, prostitutes and 16 year old boys and you’d be left with….us tourists.
9. The reggae bands playing at Balay Tubay, the local (and only) live music bar.
10. Tanduay!
11. The lovely Lanie’s swearing – the polite way: “jesusmaryjoseph!”
12. Fresh squid at a great price.
13. The head chef Inting‘s spicy, delicious banana heart curry.
14. The Lobster Lady’s live, cheap lobsters.
15. Yummy Angel Burger’s egg & ham sandwiches – for under a dollar.
16. Finding all of the neighbour’s animals asleep under my bed. Not exaggerating, either.
17. Marber’s restaurant, specifically their grilled squid and french fries.
18. The view of the Bacuit Bay.
19. Eating meals with The Alternative staff.
20. Kei yelling “CHICHA!”
21. Looking out for the cargo ferry on Friday nights.
22. Never knowing just when it is going to rain, and then inevitably getting caught in the middle of the downpour, soaking wet.
23. Chocolate cookies from Midtown Bakery.
24. Pan de coco from Midtown Bakery.
25. Ok, ANYTHING from Midtown Bakery.
26. Marathon games of Uno as the rain pounded the water outside.
27. Cloud 9 bars!
28. Becky‘s wonderful laugh.
29. Banana-Q: small plantains fried in sugar and coated in sesame seeds. Delicious and not nutritious.
30. Alexa’s ferocious hugs.
31. The dark outline of the eerie cliffs at night.
32. Lying in the wooden ‘nests’ at The Alternative and looking up at the stars.
33. The high pitched, distinctive “Sa’an Alexa?” (“Where’s Alexa”) from the neighbour’s little girl at 6am. She had a voice that could shatter glass.
34. Afternoon swims in the Bacuit Bay
35. Island hopping as part of my job.
36. Rice, lobster, crab and fish for breakfast – because it’s cheap.
37. Perlie‘s luminous smile.
38. Waiting for the power to go on, only to have it go off again 2 hours later.
39. A different, beautiful sunset every single night.
40. The Alternative.

Pictures of my 2 months working in El Nido are here.

-Jodi

The post Top 40 Things I Will Miss about El Nido appeared first on Legal Nomads.

Cast of Characters:

1) The Captains. I wish I were kidding, but I am not.
2) The paradise I left behind.

3) The dried fish that made the boat smell oh-so-delicious as they were dumped into the cargo hold.
4) The tanks of live fish in what used to be the first floor sleepers – because of how much cargo was aboard, we were all crammed onto the top deck instead.

5) The passengers, stacked atop each other like….
6) Water buffalo. There were 41 of them aboard this ship, in addition to the other cargo (fish, dried fish, many many cabinets and mirrors) and the roosters.

7) More water buffalo outside, being hosed down perpetually. They came from Liminacong and were bound for Manila. They weren’t aloud to smoke, either.
8) And finally, the REALLY unlucky water buffalo that were housed in the sub-cargo hold, squished in with the dried fish.

8) Katrien, Julie and me: in la merde together. And the boat really did smell just like crap – with all the buffaloes defecating below, and the dried fish smell wafting up to our cots, it was quite an olfactory adventure.
9) Sunrise as we approached Busuanga.

The boat was actually scheduled to leave on Friday, June 19th at midnight. And by “scheduled” I mean “not at all set in stone” because – as I learnt the hard way – Atienza’s schedules are not fixed. All of El Nido knew there were a swath of tourists on the cargo boat and every single one of them thought it was hilarious that we were pulling our hair out trying to figure out when it would get here. When the agent for Atienza tells you “it will get here when it gets here” you know you are in trouble.

The boat docked in El Nido on Friday afternoon, bound for Liminacong. It would then pick up more cargo and unload the cargo from Manila, finally turning around to pick up new cargo and passengers in El Nido. Seeing as how the boat was already in the harbour, I asked the agent when it was scheduled to come back. He didn’t know. The guards at the pier didn’t know. The terminal agent in the ferry terminal didn’t know. So I finally asked the security guards if I could speak to the captain himself, a request that was met with dumbfounded silence. They finally agreed, and off I went, with the entire harbour in tow. On the way to the ferry, coast guards called out to have my visit their boat instead because “ours goes FASTER, Ma’am!”. I asked them for a ride to Coron but they didn’t oblige. The ferry terminal guard presented me to the captain and, once he got over the fact that I was standing in his quarters asking for a timeline, he said they would be back by midnight tomorrow to pick us up. We would thus be only 24 hours late, which meant that most of us could make our flights to Manila.

Except that we weren’t. The boat finally came back on June 21st at noon, and only left at 1pm, meaning we only got to Coron at 11pm the next day. Unlike the last trip, this boat was full of carabao (water buffalo) – 41 of them. Some were sick, and the smell was overpoweringly awful. The boat was also full of dried fish, and it had no fans. It was therefore unbearably hot, pungent and a fairly disgusting ride. That’s what paying 950 pesos to Coron will get you.

The lesson: if you’re going to take the cargo ferry (less than 1/2 the price of the 2,200 banca boat) to Coron, bring along the following:
- earplugs.
- a sleep sheet to put on your sticky vinyl cot.
- something
that smells good that you can randomly sniff to help the buffalo poo and dried fish smell dissipate.
- clothes to use as a pillow when draped over your pack.
- water.
- a bag of candies to share with the kids aboard….and with the captains.
- snacks, especially if you don’t like fried sardines for breakfast, lunch or dinner.
- patience – lots of it.

-Jodi

The post Atienza Cargo Ferry from El Nido to Coron: Not for the Faint of Heart appeared first on Legal Nomads.

Some of these small quirks and funny moments from the Philippines need to be shared.

Among them:

1. Motorbike disbelief. I have rented a motorbike on every island I have visited (with the exception of Negros Occidental) and every single time the locals are truly flabbergasted that I am a white woman riding by myself. Even if we are in a group of other tourists, the fact that I am on my own bike and not on the back of a man’s bike just blows their minds. Extra shock factor: driving the bike with a guy on the back. Unthinkable.

When renting the motorcycle, the following cycle of awesomeness ensues every single time:

Me: Hi, I’d like to rent a moto for the day, please. (Or, because Tagalog doesn’t actually have words like “the” or “a” built into most sentences – “Moto, me. thank you”).

Them: Hi, where are you from?

Me: Canada. I’d like a moto?

Them (slowly): Ma’am? A moto for you and…….? (trails off confusedly)

Me (with emphasis): Just for me, thanks. I am only one.

Them: And you…know how to ride these (gesturing in panic at his motorbikes)?

Me: Yes, I have ridden many times alone. I do not need lessons. I will be careful.

Them: Ok, but then I now show you how to turn on a motorbike, ok? I will teach you.

Me: Thank you, but I already know how. Let me show you.

(I take the keys, drive around the corner and back and flash a smile)

Them: Ma’am? Why are you so brave?

Add to this infinite loop of dialogue the fact that jaws drop repeatedly when I drive by people at the side of the road, or stop in a town to buy supplies.

Me, my moto and a random cow near El Nido:

2. Roosters. I know I went into the whole rooster-mania in my Welcome to the Philippines post, but it merits a mention because I still find humour in the roosterism, despite already being here for several months. Buses, cars, vans, planes, restaurants – you name it, and there is a rooster waiting patiently to crow your ear off. People here are astounded when I have a restless night sleep because of the karaoke bar next door or the dogs barking down the street. Why? Because they all sleep like logs since they grew up surrounded by screaming fowl with messed up circadian rhythms. I keep taking pictures of roosters in public places – the locals find this confusing, since roosters are everywhere – and my mirth shows no signs of abating. I can’t stand the cockfighting, but the omnipresence of roosters makes me smile.

Rooster on Cudugnon Peninsula in Palawan:

3. Underhanded Plays on Words. Speaking of roosters, the Philippines is brimming with opportunities for sly vulgarity. Receipts for juices read “ass juice” instead of assorted, and people will order just that (“Hi, 12 ass juices, please”). One of El Nido’s general merchandise stores is called the F. U. Store, which has spawned a ghastly amount of immaturity from yours truly (Me: What store sells wine again? Them: The FU Store. Me: The what? Them: FU! FU! I will show you FU. Rinse. Repeat.) There is the current polemic surrounding the potential Constitutional Assembly amendment to the constitution – abbreviated, of course, as Con-Ass. And, in a class unto themselves there are the roosters. While they are “manok” in Tagalog, people generally just call them cocks. So you can imagine that, for a dirty group of Western tourists, it is impossible to ignore the magnitude of possibilities that a country full of roosters would manifest. From the seemingly innocuous (“Wow, that’s huge cock you’ve got there”) to the flattery (“You truly have a great looking cock”) this country provides endless options for those with 14-year old sensibilities. Yes, I happen to be one of those people.

4. Tanduay Rum. I should add that this is not a moment, but many threads of drunken conversation and karaoke, woven together into a bright, colourful tapestry. That’s not to say that I’ve been drinking my way through the Philippines; to the contrary, traveling alone means that I am extremely conservative about my alcohol consumption, for obvious reasons. But Tanduay – a Pinoy rum that originated in the sugar cane fields of Panay in and whose name translates into tandugay, meaning ‘low-lying land’ in old Tagalog – is the perfect ice breaker for any situation. A table of strangers quickly becomes a table of friends over a bottle of Tanduay and what was a quiet evening turns into a karaoke sing-off and an onslaught of eager questions about Canada. A litre of Tanduay is cheaper than a litre of water, so to say that the Philippines is awash in tawny rum wouldn’t be an exaggeration.

El Nido’s “FU Store”; Tanduay in all its golden glory:

5. The sheer magnitude of children screaming after at you when you walk/drive/bike by. Not only do they all clamour at the side of the road, screaming hello or “hello friend!”, they won’t stop screaming until you answer them. Responding means the cycle continues, with them chasing your bike/car/you down the street and giggling the whole way. The children here are both plentiful and painfully cute, so it is impossible not to walk around with a big smile on your face when confronted with such disarming friendliness. In El Nido, there is no dearth of toddlers about and now that they know me (and my name) I have a pied-piperesque trail of smiles and hellos wherever I go. Of course, the fact that I often buy them cookies at the bakery certainly adds to their desire to shadow my every move about town.

Me and Alexa, the imp that she is:

6. Sample sizes of everything. I happen to love the travel size aisle at the pharmacy, and I happen to know I am not alone in my affection for tiny toiletries (I am talking to you, Cheryl). Imagine my joy, then, upon visiting a Pinoy supermarket for the first time: everything is in a small size. Everything. My brother doesn’t need to resort to imagining my happiness, since he was with me in Tagbilaran, calling after me in alarm as I bolted from aisle to aisle exclaiming “ALL small sizes! ALL!” and giggling like an idiot. From shampoos, to baby powders, to soaps, to cigarettes (sold in twos or fours), this entire country is built to stock up on travel essentials if you are backpacking around. It is important to note that these sample sizes exist due to the unfortunate reality that most Filipinos cannot afford the full container, let alone the jumbo/family sizes you would encounter in North America. In El Nido, sample sizes of everything hang from the rafters in each of the corner stores and supermarkets.

From the corner store at the end of Serena street:

7. Power Ballads. This country? Obsessed with 80s power ballads and those particularly slow, terrifyingly sad songs of the 90s. Songs I have heard more times than I can count: Total Eclipse of the Heart, Everything I Do, I Do it for You, Hello, Memories (from Cats), Bed of Roses, Hero and – straddling the 70s and 80s – anything by Air Supply. These are blasted, at full volume, on jeepneys, public buses, in the tricycles, on the street. While you want to cut your ears off for the first month, eventually the sheer persistence of these ballads works through the hard, stubborn core of your resistance and you find yourself shamefully singing along, every single time.

8. “It’s ok.” It’s hard to believe that two simple words can cause such a rash of confusion. “It’s ok” here means everything from “yes” to “no” to “don’t even think about it” – with absolutely no way of knowing which one is intended in a particular situation. From asking someone if they want something (response:”It’s ok!”) to asking if you can go somewhere (“It’s ok!”) to asking whether anyone was hurt when the tricycle bashed into the pile of mangoes across the way (“It’s ok!”) you would think that you’d be able to discern the appropriate sentiment given the context – but you absolutely cannot. To make matters more fun, most people don’t just say “It’s ok” once, they repeat it 3 or 4 times (“it’sokit’sokit’sok”), often enough that even the myna birds have learned to mimic the expression perfectly. After almost 4 months in the Philippines, I’ve been saying “it’s ok” myself at least a few times a day.

9. Whispering. Or, more precisely, the fact that no one here knows how to whisper. At night, on boats or buses, in hotels or restaurants – regardless of where you are or how tired you might be, no one cares. In fact, they will speak at the top of their voices and then remain entirely confused when you stumble out of your room and groggily ask them to keep it down. “Keep it….down?” is the usual answer. Yes, down. Your voice. QUIET. But it’s all to no avail. As I’ve said above, in a culture that grows up with roosters crowing at all hours of the night and dogs fighting outside the window, the concept of peace and quiet is entirely foreign. Everything becomes white noise to the Filipinos, and such a talent for muting out the sharp noises of the night is hard to come by in most tourists. I am very jealous.

10. Eden Cheese. Sold by Kraft (of course) and wrapped in foil and a bright blue rectangular package that resembles cream cheese bricks back home, Eden Cheese is made of enough synthetics and random preservatives that it is practically indestructible. You can leave it out in the sun for hours, try and melt it for a sandwich, shred it in the hopes that it won’t taste like processed cardboard – but it is totally futile. Unrefrigerated, infrangible, unbelievable: Eden cheese is like the Rasputin of Pinoy foods, and deserves its own paragraph because in many islands and towns it is the only cheese you can buy. El Nido is one such town, and at 42 pesos (under $1) per block, it’s omnipresent. I’ve learnt to appreciate Eden Cheese’s total and blatant unwillingness to be like other cheeses, but I can’t say I enjoy the taste of soggy, sticky plastic.

* * *

I’m gearing up to leave El Nido in a few days, and plan on doing one more post about this wonderful place before posting a very late entry on Northern Luzon, including the rice terraces of Banaue and Batad and the caves and good eats in Sagada. All these quirks are just additional layers of fun on an already beautiful place.

-Jodi

The post Top 10 Philippine Quirks appeared first on Legal Nomads.

Katrien, a graceful Belgian woman who has lived in El Nido with her boyfriend Javier for the last few months stumbled upon a Lobster Lady who happened to have several kilos of live lobster in her banca boat. Having spent the last ten days with Rob, an environmental scientist from Holland who spent several months living in Palawan to help start a sustainable lobster farm, Katrien and I were dead set on finding him some crustacean deliciousness, stat. Katrien told the Lobster Lady to scour the town for me or a tall Dutchman named Rob and she dutifully did just that, finally running into us at the fruit stand down the street from The Alternative. The Lobster Lady was a sight to behold: she was at least a head shorter than me and likely half my body weight, with shoulder-length gray hair and only 2 teeth. She brought us to her banca boat and we departed with a net full of 8 squirming, angry lobsters.

The lobster came in at just over 2 kilos, and we asked the staff at The Alternative if we could pay them a pseudo “corkage fee” to steam them. We also ordered a platter of garlic fried rice, bought a 1.5L jug of Carlo Rossi red wine and bought some Cloud 9 chocolate bars for dessert.

Me in the kitchen with the chefs, Norms and Inting; steaming our lobsters for dinner:

One of the two big plates of lobster; our international group saying ‘cheers’ to the dinner of champions (from the guy in the Orange shirt, going clockwise: Rob (Dutch), David (Swiss), Javier (Argentine), Katrien (Belgian), me (Canadian) and John (Welsh):

If the pictures are any indication, it was one hell of a meal, and coming in at $7.50 each including wine, dessert and side dishes, it was well worth it. While Rob, John and David have moved on to their next destinations, the remaining 3 of us are looking out for the Lobster Lady around town, excited to repeat our lobster feast.

-Jodi

The post Lobster Feast in El Nido, Palawan appeared first on Legal Nomads.

I’ve now been in the Philippines for almost 3 months, and for a country that wasn’t on my initial itinerary, that is quite a long time. It is also longer than I’ve spent anywhere else on this trip. Despite an almost comical urge to justify staying, to others and to myself, there is no one dominant thing that keeps me here. I am, however, drawn to the composite of Filipino paradoxes – of which there are many – and somewhere in the heart of my inertia lies a desire to understand and experience them firsthand. One such oddity is obvious to any traveller who sets foot in the country: despite the fact that all of the signs in the Philippines are in English, very few people speak it fluently enough for you to actually arrive at your destination. And thus, you know what you need to do or where you need to go, but cannot for the life of you get there – because everyone is giving you a winning smile and nodding enthusiastically and gesturing vaguely…but not really understanding a word you say. There are exceptions to this rule, of course. Bigger cities such as Manila and Dumaguete are usually reliable for even the most panicked orientation needs and the tourist offices peppered erratically throughout the country will (mostly) point you in the right direction. And then there are those Filipinos who – usually through marriage to a Westerner – have both a nuanced, complex English vocabulary and a healthy dose of sarcasm. One of those special people is Becky, manager of El Nido’s The Alternative Restaurant & Bar, and she is the reason I ended up living here for the next few months.

The entrance to The Alternative, from Serena St; View from the bottom of the hotel (taken as I ran away from the waves).

I initially stumbled upon The Alternative after my horrendous boat ride from Port Barton. Waterlogged, I left my bags with fellow travellers and began traipsing up and down the beach in search for accommodation within what I thought was a reasonable budget. While there are a slew of hotels, resorts and B&Bs; to choose from in El Nido, most cater to vacationing couples from Manila or foreign honeymooners, and rolled their eyes at me dramatically when I said I was “only one”. Finally, after combing the length of the beach, I walked into The Alternative – which the Lonely Planet falsely said was a restaurant and not a hotel. They just so happened to have a spare room for 250 pesos (5$), which I ended up sharing with Kaja, a willowy Slovenian that I met in Port Barton. Exhausted, I put my bags down and wandered around the premises, and it quickly dawned on me that I might never leave.

The Alternative has 2 floors, with the kitchen, reception and 4 rooms with private baths downstairs and 3 rooms with a shared bath upstairs. Also upstairs? The most inviting bar/restaurant area I have seen on my travels. The floors, rafters and furniture are built from dark wood, with handcrafted wooden benches and tables strewn artfully (and feng shui-ily) about. Adjoining the main dining area is a bar topped with a conical nipa roof and – the best part of it all – next to the bar are wooden pathways leading out to 4 wooden ‘nests’ that rise up from the powdery sand below. At night, long after the restaurant had closed and the staff was asleep, I would tiptoe out of my room and into one of the nests, reeling at the stars splashed across the dark sky and the faint shadow of the cliffs looming beside me.

Me, blogging from the restaurant; one of the 4 ‘nests’ that help make The Alternative so special.

Time in El Nido tends to stay still. I initially planned on spending four days here, but one day bled into the next and I ended up leaving two weeks later, with a firm promise to come back for another few months. Becky is mostly to blame for my return; her infectious laugh and genuine thirst for life beyond El Nido meant that my hours talking with her were some of my best ones here. Outside time chatting with Becky and her family, my days were a hazy blur of island tours, late nights at Balay Tubay (the local live-music bar) and consuming my body weight in squid. I ate so many mangos that I started to dream about swimming in a sea of mango juice. I was invited out to Becky’s private beach on Kudugnon, an isolated part of the peninsula accessible only by boat, and spent a few nights camping out in the open air, my mattress surrounded by chickens, roosters, puppies and a friendly cat named Mikang. Nights on the island were another chance to chat with Becky and her family – brother Levi and son Kei – which is how she initially asked me to come back to The Alternative. Would I be willing to stay and eat for free in exchange for redoing their menu and writing their website? Incidentally, The Alternative also has some of the best food in town, with a focus on spicy main courses, vegetables braised in coconut cream and a dish – Banana Heart Curry – that remains my favourite meal in the Philippines. It was one of the easiest decisions I’ve ever made.

One of the roosters on Becky’s beach in Kudugnon; View from my mattress.

To explain why I love it here necessarily requires some detail about the odd hiccups that make El Nido such a wonderful place to stay. For starters, it is very hard to get here. Choices are a flight to Busuanga, followed by a long ferry ride, or a flight to Puerto Princessa, followed by a long bus ride over muddy, unpaved roads – usually resulting in your bus getting stuck and a bulldozer barrelling over to yank you out of the dark red clay. You can fly direct, but at close to 7,000 pesos, most backpackers don’t. In addition, El Nido has its share of flamboyant characters, interpersonal drama and interesting ex-pats. The dozens of hotels and restaurants, each built close to the ground and low to preserve the integrity of the view, each house their share of fascinating people, local gossip and good food. And the town is more friendly than any other I’ve encountered in the Philippines. I get a rousing “Hello Jodi!” from everyone the minute I step out the door. Add to this foundation a roving band of local dogs and chickens, a rotating set of backpackers who also fall in love with this place and a new-found appreciation for the slower, quieter things in life and you can understand why I would come back.

Of course, the view doesn’t hurt, either:

In the end, my return to El Nido has been as laid back as my initial exploration. I do the books for The Alternative in the morning, running through the expenses and income for the prior day. I help out in the restaurant when there are new guests – and as most have been French, I’ve been able to practice mine too. Afternoons are a decadent mix of writing, playing with Alexa (the resident 4-year old), swimming and chatting with the neighbours. Evenings involve working at the restaurant and getting things ready for the next day. I eat most of my meals with the family and staff of The Alternative, perched outside on the wooden tables or around the bench near the kitchen. The staff here – and their symbiotic, flowing existence with one another – makes my time in El Nido even more worthwhile. Most of the staff worked for a posh resort on a surrounding island, until it was bought out and driven into bankruptcy. As a result, they have a rapport that feels like family, and banter pleasantly throughout the day while they go about their jobs. I’ve met some other ex-pats who have opened restaurants or dive shops here, and we often head back to Balay Tubay – or just hang out with a bottle of Carlo Rossi (the only wine worth buying here) and some candles and chat the night away. The people at Midtown Bakery have finally understood that my bi-weekly 2 dozen cookie purchase isn’t actually all for me, but for the staff at The Alternative. And the sweet burger girl at Yummy Angel Burger has stopped asking me how long I plan on staying here.

The wonderful staff of The Alternative

The pictures I’ve taken and used for this post will change considerably as typhoon season approaches. Yesterday we had one of the strongest storms I have ever seen, with the windows flailing about helplessly and water flooding the restaurant and dripping down to the deck below. Today brought no respite – thunderstorms raged angrily from dawn till dusk, and only now (at 9:45pm) has the rain abated briefly. I plan on taking ‘El Nido Dripping Wet’ pictures too, and I promised my brother a video of the typhoon winds – so long as I don’t blow away while trying to record it! Rain or no rain, I feel completely at home in this town and at The Alternative – and it is wonderful to put down my rucksack, unpack my clothes and stay somewhere special for more than a little while.

Vivid colours right next door to The Alternative; El Nido’s police station.

The rest of my pictures of beautiful El Nido are here.

More to come on some of the quirks and quarks of Pinoy society, now that I’ve been here for several months.

Spoiler alert: I will rant about roosters again.

- Jodi

The post Palawan Paradise Part 4: El Nido, The Philippines appeared first on Legal Nomads.