marinegirl

I dropped my washing off at Wishy Washy this morning, and the girl behind the counter remembered my name and had already filled it in on the ticket for me, spelt correctly*. This is starting to become a pattern.

Stopping off for petrol at the Caltex on the way to Dauin: “Good morning Ma’am Rebecca!”

Walking through Malatapay in the evening, a voice out of the darkness:”Hi Ma’am Rebecca!”

Looking at some pigs in Candanay Norte, Siquijor: “These are my pigs! …various discussion about lechon and fiestas… “you should come to our fiesta, Ma’am Rebecca!”

Huh? How does everyone know who I am??

We’ve even heard people call out from the side of the road as we drive though town. Some of these people (petrol station girl, obviously Miss Wishy Washy) I know I’ve seen a few times before, others I simply have no idea who they are or where they know me from. It’s actually quite spooky.

I guess it’s a small town without many white girls! On Panglao, nobody knew my name. But by the end of the week the habal-habal (motorbikes-for-hire) guys knew us and where we wanted to go, and even the incessant “Chocolate hills tour tomorrow Ma’amSir?” guys had realised that we would never be interested.

As an aside, I’m writing this from my new-found internet cafe… chilled jazz music, peaceful, broadband and coffee. Except today the coffee machine s broken, so I’m drinking green tea. I feel very healthy.

*I had a great idea for a photo project - photographing all the people that come to meet me at airports / ports etc. holding a card with my name on. It would be a great way to remember travels, and the various spellings of my name are hilarious. Last time I was Rebeka Wiett. Sadly I always have to travel lugging tons of heavy dive bags behind me, so the camera is always packed.

trees!, originally uploaded by when milko shoots.

I’m currently on an island called Panglao, which hangs of the south west corner of Bohol. Sadly I didn’t take this photo - it’s been grey and drizzly since we got here, but I’m not complaining because the sea is flat as a pancake.

Alona Beach is either diving Mecca, or diving hell, depending on how you look at it. Every little resort (and there are a lotof them) crammed along the beach has a dive shop attached. The sea looks like where dive boats come to breed - I’ll try and get a photo tomorrow.

Lucky for me, when I came to book the trip, all the resorts were full. So we’re staying at a gorgeous little place called Alumbung, a few minutes ride away from the main drag. It’s nice to be waved at by children and offered coconut wine by drunks in the local sari-sari store rather than being scowled at by other tourists. We have a beautiful little ‘lumbung’ (which is apparently a Balinese rice barn with a Filipino twist!) with a sleeping area up a ladder and a great indoor/outdoor living area underneath with lots of bamboo and hammocks. It’s set in our own little garden, so it’s private and, roosters aside, quiet. Oh, and we have wireless internet too, hurrah!

Last August I took this photo of a petrol station on Siquijor and posted it to my flickr account. I recently received the following comment from Ablejon, updating me on the current petrol situation.

Technically speaking, we do still sell petrol with soft drinks bottles like Pepsi and Coke. But now, we have 2 gasoline refilling stations in the island with Petron; 1 in Nonoc, Larena and 1 in Pangi, Siquijor.

He also pointed me towards the Pangi Gasoline Station website.

I was fortunate enough to see the Pangi Station for myself this week as I was back on Siquijor for more fish counting, but sadly didn’t get the opportunity to top up there. We stayed at a little place called The Norwegian Dream Beach Resort just up the road. The staff were incredibly helpful, making sure there was a big pot of brewed coffee on the table for breakfast every morning, and even went as far as arranging some Norwegian weather for us. For four days we shivered in the rain, were thrown around on the surface in waves bigger than our little boat and underwater by unpredictable currents. One day it was so bad our boat couldn’t make it back to the Norwegian Dream, so Rich and I had to try and catch a jeepney back across the island in our wetsuits! I was cold and had had enough, so decided to end the trip a day early and come back to Dumaguete first thing Sunday morning. We woke up to the first blue sky all week and a flat sea - aaaargh!