Into the Abyss : But a Blip in the Ocean

"When I grow up, I wanna be a pirate." - Former me, age 5ish...
And I really did. I wanted to swing by ropes from boat to boat waving plastic swords (all swords are plastic when you're 5ish) demanding cookies and cake... that's what I wanted to be.

 But out in the ocean, the last thing you'd like to meet are them pirate types - especially when you're delapan ratus delapan pulah delepan (Indonesian for 888) miles away from the closest splotch of land.. There's no calling the coast guard or radioing a ship for assistance. There's nothing. And in the real world, pirates aren't nice. Or so I've heard.

Stocked up with canned vegetables, a freezer full of chillis, and enough tofu and tempe to circumnavigate the globe [and the rest of the planets] at least 27 times, we licked land goodbye (18:42 pm, Friday 26 October) and prepared for the great vortex of blue that awaited us.

Approaching our last wake point before 3512 miles in a straight line...

The wind whisked out of Bali just in time to celebrate captain Kirk's birthday, which was conveniently located the day before Halloween which was conveniently located the day before Christmas [island] - which you have to celebrate - which created a plethora of convenient celebrations to mark the start of our Indian ocean crossing.

All through the first week, dolphins leaped at our bow and spun through the air and awed us with their magnificent beauty as we chased the sunset. One tanker overtook us, one tsunami warning buoy beguiled us, one soap wrapper floated by. Apart from that, there was nothing.

And then the winds picked up and the dolphins were lost in the 3-5 meter swell; lee cloths went up because life became a constant 30 degree lean to the right, and it's hard to not roll out of bed at that angle. We saw one bobbing coconut and a plastic bottle, but for all we knew there may well have been treasure chests lurking nearby - the seas flamed like a furnace.

Bathing (by hanging onto the stern ladder) became restricted to holding on with both hands, and only when there were at least 2 people to supervise; it's not as easy as you might think to furl the gib, lower the main, start the engine and about ship to rescue fallen sailors.

The captain trying to ski swim off the back of the boat.... the captain was the only one crazy enough to try this... the captain was also almost lost to the sea...

Electronic devices died left, right, over board and centre. The deck became littered with flocks of flying fish (54 found dead - one rescued).

Storms came and went. Movie nights were either done verbatim, or moved indoors.  

One hand was constantly clinging on for dear life whilst the other caught falling people and produce and toilet seats. Make that falling everythings - things learned to magically fly every time we heeled at the mercy of a giant wave. Our bodies glimmered blue with bruises.

17 50 379 S; 086 45 777 E, Day 12, I flew across the galley and somehow succeeded in piercing my tooth through my chin. It hurt a lot. It bled a lot.

The healing of my pieced lip... and no it did not make me turn yellow... I think that may just be the camera.

White waves mesmerised us by day, shooting stars awed us at night. Our trusty swivel, sea force stove kept our stomachs well sated.

Shortly before our furthest point from any land (902 miles away from Cotos Keeling and 902 miles away from Chagos), we spotted a small fishing boat -- the last thing you expect to see out in the ocean. Another two vessels purpled on our radar. Pirates??We sat nervously watching... they eventually disappeared.

At 14:04 pm, Day 13, we hit the half way to La Reunion mark - 1756 nautical miles in. Pop pops and tom thumbs and a message in the bottle went off. Hugs did their rounds. And then we all sat back down and carried on being mesmerised. We still had a very long way to go.

The excitement that is beer oclock (especially on time zone change days, where 5ish oclock came around twice)

Losing my Asianity

It's normally easy to slide in and live amongst the 'natives' - Having dark skin and darker hair makes me practically Asian. By default. And some times I can even use chopsticks... But in the Philippines, all that's changed. I now stick out like a sore thumb - but it's mostly a sore foot that's done the damage!!


I've been 'disabled' for 2 weeks today and I take my hat off to people with real disabilities because it's not easy having people constantly asking "what happened to your foot?" and feeling sorry for you and it especially  sucks with a big backpack and a bigger teddy bear... To put it in perspective, I walk so weirdly that most people don't even notice the teddy... But if there's one place where you can rest and enjoy prettynesses, it's the Philippines... apart from all the walking and missioning and adventuring and exploring that lures you away from recovery!

There's the magical waters... and corals and clams and...

Rehab for clams

And a plethora of waterfalls...

And the people are nice and friendly....

The transport's ALL colourful...

And only a little uncomfortable... 

And karaoke bars can be found in almost anyone's back yard!

The landscape's absolutely perfect [for looking at, not s much for travelling over]

The chocolate hills, Bohol

  

Apart from the spiders, most of the animals are cute and cuddly!

The food's interesting and even when it's not particularly tasty, there's always fresh chilli about to help

You can get a massage just about anywhere for under $5 

They have real beer ... unlike China's 2.5 - 3.3% 

Philoppino's version of Maccers is the Jolibee and you can have great spaghetti for breakfast!

The beaches are perfect (both the black and the white ones - I'm not a rascist)

There's hot springs and cold springs and volcanoes and...

And other strange things you stumble across... (including the best fire poi I've ever seen, done by a 6 year old)

Miss teen

The sunken cemetery

And every day the sunset's more perfect than the last!

With my foot almost functional again I might even go ponder up a volcano in the morning (it's only a 7 hour walk) and then there's the other 7103 islands of the Philippines I have yet to see... It's the kind of place that can suck you in forever... At this rate, it might!

Injured Insanities and Failures

It’s been one of the most bizarrest weeks of my life. I had it all planned out. I was feeling more prepared than I had in years: say goodbye to mom and hello to Hong Kong and then proceed to find my flightless way to Borneo. Simple[ish].

 

I was doing well too. On day one I’d already visited immigration and the maritime authorities - I had leads of all sorts and life was good as it glistened under the sparkly city sky. I handed a friend my camera as we watched the sun drop down into the bustle, I clambered up a little building and leaped into the air as he clicked away and I clicked to the ground in a ball of pain.

I’m still trying to work out why exactly I can’t walk – it seems to be a bit of a combination of a sprained ankle and maybe a hairline fracture and… well, whatever it is, it’s messed up my head mostly! And there’s no medical explanation for that! 

I spent day 2 limping between boat/ yatch/ maritime clubs and busses speaking to any and everyone and plastering notices on whichever sign boards would accept. It wasn’t looking good though; monsoon season has hit and even cargo ships have been rerouted!

Hong Kong hit me with another picturesque sunset that sent my head into a spiraling vortex of ponderings that kept me up all night. And even 5 cups of coffee on Day 3 and a long session in the massage chair couldn’t help me! And then I messed up massively. I made what could potentially be the biggest mistake of my life…

 

…It was weird standing back where I’d hugged mum goodbye only 3 days earlier. I didn’t belong there. I felt like my lunch was going to escape my body. I looked nervously from person to person around me, why were they all so calm?

An hour later I finally found the front of the queue. I was shaking. “I’m sorry ma’am, but unless that bear is boxed, we cannot allow it to board” I should have run away right then, but I didn’t… “May I see your return ticket please?” “Return ticket?” You can't enter the Philipines without an exit ticket. I tried to subtly photoshop one on my laptop but I was a wreck and after an hour of standing I was about to fall over in a ball of pain   so, almost in tears, I followed Nini across the airport and allowed her to book and cancel me a return flight to the cheapest destination possible and she telephoned a colleague to check my bag in and another to get Teddy through customs and then she acted as my crutch as we ran to departures where I caught a train across terminals and heard “final call for Miss Adeena…” and then I boarded a bus and a plane and the doors shut and just like that 8 months of flight freeness [and my soul] were destroyed.

The flight was pretty at least.

  

Two and a half hours was just long enough to calm me down again and when I touched down I was a happy smiling me again – even if it was raining and I was still disabled (They even tried to get me into a wheel chair).

And that’s how I became a Pilipino.

From there it was a staggering 6 jeepneys to Cebu Guesthouse (I might have taken a flight, but taxis are still against my religion) where, even though all the stores were shut, I was lucky enough to meet an American with a broken leg and painkillers and I slept.

A Jeepney

I woke up to find I had a dorm mate. She’d arrived at 3am after breaking her leg… Bringing 75% of the guesthouse to ‘disabled’… She, being a physio, told me that I should get a good 3 or 4 days of solid rest in and I’d probably be alright. But if I was going to rest, I was going to do it in a hammock…

It’s supposed to only be 3 hours to a little paradise called Loboc. And as I was leaving I found an American heading the same way and together we took a wrong jeepney and then the right one and then a ferry and then a trikee and then another jeepney and we were only a few kilometers away when the wheel blew and the driver lost control and we crashed into the sandy curb where our jeepney was laid to rest.

A Trikee

It was a VERY long walk that may have involved me falling a couple of times into pools of stagnant mud and I may have a very dirty teddy, and a very swollen ankle and it may have taken us 4 and a half hours longer than it should have but I now have a hammock and beautifulness all around and that makes me happy.

The washing of the Teddy the Fourth

Anyway, I’m afraid I’ve made many many mistakes of late and I think life’s trying to get me to slow down a little so, before I venture onward to Borneo [to become a vegetarian, etc], I’m going to rest and heal and absorb beautifulness (wow, I sound like a hippy) and then a whole new type of adventure continues. Life is brilliant, even when it hurts.