El Nido, Philippines
Something I grew to understand more of, whilst both living in a foreign country and on my travels, was how privileged I am to have a British passport and for being white. Meeting people from all around the world was amazing and eye-opening at the same time. It made me so angry at society and the school curriculum for creating such naivety around white supremacy and it being subconsciously embedded into our brains. We're so oblivious sometimes to how damn lucky we are. I'd left a 3rd world country where people had never been able to leave on account of simply having, or not having in fact, a Cambodian passport and not being allowed into another country for fear of them "never leaving". I had friends that told me of life with a Zimbabwean passport and how hard it was for them to return to their country with fear of not being able to leave again, being unable to obtain visas in certain countries and going to Malaysia for a holiday meant being kept in a room for hours to be questioned with no water or chance of a phone call. The solo-traveller, born and raised in Wales, would no doubt be stopped at every control point and be expected to have an outgoing flight booked and if not they were unable to continue; all because of the colour of their skin. Whereas me? I could waltz through passport control and not be asked a single question and sometimes not even be looked at to check my identity. I could speak to most people as they spoke English. I was constantly embarrassed that I spoke my mother tongue and only that. Yes, I would do my best to remember greetings and manners but other than that; just English and only English. So, as much as I enjoyed my freedom, it also made me very aware of my circumstances and how angry they could also make me feel. In reflection I have learnt a lot about my culture and others. Why should someone who has the same passport as me, but a different colour skin, be treated any other way but equal? So please, the next time we're allowed to fly and travel safely again, remember how lucky you are to even have the chance to move around freely and with no questions asked...
So, there I was squished into this mini-van, my bag hopefully in the back somewhere and my knees up to my boobs; it's a good job I'm short really. I had Childish Gambino on repeat for the whole 6 hour journey, due to forgetting to download anything else prior to losing Wi-Fi... Remember kids, as great as signal is, Wi-Fi is important when it comes to entertainment. So there I am, watching palm tree after palm tree pass by at an exceptional speed, and when I say exceptional speed, I mean that the driving was insane. I think if it had been on straight roads it would have been tolerable, but the fact that there was bend after bend made it genuinely sickening. In fact, there was a point later in the Philippines when nearly the whole bus was puking; and they were all Filipinos! The driver is there just livid that it could possibly be his fault... "Bloody Filipino's" says the Filipino himself... maybe mate, just slow the f**k down?! Anyway, that speed continued for the whole journey and, somehow, I arrived to El Nido in one piece without being sick.
Just before getting off the van I had that moment where I realised I have no idea where the bus is actually going to stop off and that I'll need to find my hostel; obviously it would be way too easy to be dropped at the front door...! I luckily got some signal and noticed on the map that we would go straight past my stop, so I begin to communicate this to the driver and after lots of nods and smiles are made I think "hey, this isn't so hard?", then I notice we've driven straight past and no-one bats an eyelid. Great. On the plus side, it wasn't ridiculously far away. The next problem is usually "whats the best way to get about" and I'd already been ripped off a lot by the trikes they had and I just wasn't in the mood to negotiate. Instead, I got my backpack (which was still there!) and I walked. Now, again, Google maps cannot always be trusted either. I made it to where the hostel should have been and, huh, I couldn't see it anywhere? I was walking on the beach now, with a 25kg bag in 29 degree heat; lost. It has to be somewhere?! Anyway, 30 minutes later with sweat gathering in areas that I didn't know sweat could gather, I checked in. I dumped my stuff, showered, changed and walked the massive 250 metres to the beach. Absolute bliss...
I sat with a beer in hand, feet in warm sand, boats gently bobbing on the calm water with the sun behind them beginning to set; honestly just sheer bliss. I took the biggest breath I had that day and smiled. It was in that moment when I felt a sense of accomplishment; you've finally got somewhere you've been trying to get to for days, in a foreign country, on your own and now nowhere else to be. I was completely present. All that disequilibrium I had been feeling before was starting to dwindle away...
That evening I went out in search for food. I did feel very alone. Normally I really do not mind going out to eat by myself, in fact, I quite enjoy it. No judgement on what I choose to eat/drink, no small talk needed to fill the silences, no worry that I have something in my teeth or if I'm eating too quickly/slowly... But this time, I felt very aware of being alone. Lil' old me on my todd with my overpriced falafel wrap and beer feeling a bit sorry for myself. Agh, listen to me; me me me me... then literally as I'm thinking this BAM, 2 nice people on the table next to me made eye contact and we said something to each other. I can't even remember what the conversation starter was... but either way, it led to us joining tables and learning about each others' homes. Theirs being the Netherlands and mine obviously being England; neither having visited the other. In fact, I leaned just how geographically naive I was for knowing absolutely nothing about Amsterdam or the Netherlands (except for the obvious...) However, I needed to feel stupid because it made me learn more and now I at least know the flag, what food is native to their country, the language they speak and where would be nice to visit. They would also ask me things about my own country and yet again I sat their in shock of how little I knew that could be of interest to them? We... drink a lot of tea, have big greasy breakfasts, lots of countryside and greenery, London, different accents and Queenie? Seriously Abbie... Anyway, I went back to my hostel that evening a little tipsy and annoyed at myself, but happy I'd met people who made me think and check myself. I'm not ashamed to realise I don't know about certain things but the real judgement comes after; do you walk away with that same embarrassing amount of knowledge or do you ask questions, educate yourself and learn more about the world around you?
The following day I made contact with the solo-traveller I met back in Malaysia and planned to meet at Nacpan beach. I'd heard a lot about it being one of the most beautiful in the Philippines and so I was incredibly excited. Turned out it wasn't a case of just popping around the corner though and as I'd left it quite late in the day I had missed mini-vans heading that way. So, I ended up cutting a deal with a trike and we drove for over an hour to Nacpan in this incredibly noisy trike that barely went above 40 mph via some very dodgy roads; but it was certainly an adventure.
Me and the trike driver; no shits given.
Nacpan is literally a stretch of beach (beautiful though) with a few beach bars and around four hostels; Mad Monkey obviously being one of them. I was only planning to be there for the day to say hello, admire the beach and get the last bus back. Instead, I met the solo-traveller and some of their friends, chilled on the beach, swam, and discussed how ridiculously early I would have to go to get back to my hostel. So the decision was made fairly easily; I'll stay there the night and have some drinks. We went back to their hostel and got some food to prepare our bodies for a big night. Inevitably we bumped into some other travellers who were looking for a similar kind of night and invited us to a different hostel. So, we set off to the one little shop, got a bottle of vodka, forgetting to pick up the mixer we paid for, and settled down on a little private beach at the quieter end of Nacpan. Let's just say, it was a very fun night and one that I will remember for a long time! It involved drunken late night dips in the sea, staring at the stars, listening to good music and having great conversations with some awesome people...
Next time: I join forces again with the solo-traveller and their Swedish friend...