the adventures of screw up boy - day 2

saturday started peacefully. i should have known it was a bad omen, like the proverbial calm before the storm. the morning was spent chilling out, doing the usual morning rituals, packing up our luggage, and then gambling our change away with a card game they called "in between". seemed like everyone else in the group were experienced gamblers, and i stood out innocently like a sore thumb.

manong boy, our driver, arrived to pick us up at around noon. after taking some souvenir pictures at the hotel, we hit the road. cruising on the highway, we had a nice view of mt. makiling, and i remembered boss joseph saying something about how nice it would be if we also did some trekking there, ignorant of the coming hell. that should have been omen number 2.

i asked the guys what would be our next activity on the list. they said we'd do some trekking on taal. hmmm... trekking. suddenly my spider sense went on high alert. aside from a fear of flying, i also have a fear of heights AND deep water. plus, i don't know how to swim. uh-oh, i thought, doesn't that involve climbing AND riding a boat across taal lake?

i took a good look at everybody. ok... guys' hair all gelled up and spiky, girls wearing those stylish blouses and sandals, the air thick with their cologne. we looked like we were going to THE MALL. ok... maybe... it's just a short leisurely walk then, i thought, maybe on a paved path to the peak of taal where we can admire a magnificent view of the crater and reflect upon the grandeur of nature. i was starting to delude myself. self delusion is one of my psychological defense mechanisms.

after a pitstop for lunch along the highway, we continued the journey. the road was getting noticeably inclined now, as my ears started popping to adjust to the air pressure. then the big road sign: tagaytay.

so this is tagaytay, i thought. i was expecting it to look like baguio. but from what i saw, it looked more like bukidnon. there were so many pineapples and pineapple plantations... well i think they were pineapples. and then there it was, that familiar image found in postcards and wow philippines ads, taal volcano.

we hired the services of a boatman standing at the side of the road waiting for passengers. after some bargaining, manong boy got us a lower price for the boatman's services, and we followed him down to the lake for the boat.

what we saw when we arrived at the shore of taal lake did not calm my nerves. the water was rough, thanks to the strong wind. my spider sense was saying: "turn around and lock yourself up in the van. NOW." but my pride was saying: "boy, are you a wimp, or ARE YOU A WIMP?" so with those thoughts, i considered my predicament. everybody was going. the girls didn't seem to be scared. i'm doomed.

so with some trepidation, i got into the boat, and we experienced a ride that beat all the attractions at enchanted kingdom. maybe i should've tried their water rides after all, so i can get some practice before going on this one. with huge waves and strong winds blasting our little boat, i held on to anything secure for dear life, worried of the headline that might come out on the papers the next day if i didn't: "SUICIDAL TOURIST FROM CEBU DROWNS IN TAAL LAKE". the shame...

after about 40 minutes of having our intestines pureed, we finally got back on terra firma. the taal island welcoming comittee was composed of a whole barangay of hustlers, demanding from us gullible tourists various fees here and there. there was the entrance fee (per head) and a ridiculous parking fee for the boat. they also tried scaring us into renting their horses, telling us how far and difficult the path would be to the top. that would have cost us an also ridiculous P500 per horse. we did not take them up on that offer. and of course, there was the fee for our guide, which at P500 made the whole thing look like extortion. are they kidding? P500 just for a walk up and down the mountain? anything to squeeze the money from our pockets. i hope you hustlers are reading this blog and feel ashamed of yourselves.

aside from the hustlers, we were also welcomed by a strong smell of shit. horse shit to be exact, with all the horses on the island. the place was littered everywhere with it, that they can also call taal horse shit island. and with these two things will i always fondly remember taal with.

after paying all the fees and getting a guide, we trudge up to the crater of the volcano. on the way we were met by tourists on horseback on the way down. they all had this constipated look plastered on their faces, which made me doubt if the trek was worth all the trouble.



turns out we didn't really need the guide. as long as we followed the trail of horse shit, we were fine. the final stretch going up was tough though, as the incline was pretty steep and the path's loose sandy soil did not give very good traction to our shoes. after about 45 minutes of trekking torture, we finally reach the crater.





let's see... how do i describe taal volcano. it was nice, i guess. something you don't see everyday. you can still see smoke rising from the sides of the crater, a sign that the volcano is still active.







i did not enjoy the view very much though, as the thought that kept going through my mind was: "oh f*ck, how do i get out of here alive?!". it did not help me remembering the fact that the british mountaineer george leigh mallory died on his expedition to mt. everest GOING DOWN.

we looked at the time. it was 3:30. the last thing we wanted to do was to wobble our way down the path in total darkness, so after a final session of picture taking, we decided to go down. ok, i thought, now i'm screwed.

and then, i see it, my only means of escape. a big horse was lazily flicking flies away with his tail. a ray of light hit the blessed creature, as if heaven was saying, "here is your path to salvation." hallelujah! i'm saved! i was about to jump for joy at the sight when suddenly, it urinated. the horse shot its pee to the ground like a fire hose, that given a few more hours, it may have been possible for the horse to engulf the whole island in its own pee. i didn't know which was worse, to have myself impaled down the side of the mountain or to drown in the horse's pee.

i asked the guide how much for the horse. he said P200. P200!? why you bloody cutthroats! stuck between paying for a ridiculously priced horse ride and getting back to the boat in one piece, i grudgingly chose the latter. so i hauled my butt on the saddle and went ahead of the group.

what can i say about riding a horse... well... it was a literal pain in the ass. no wonder those horse riding tourists we encountered on the way up all had that constipated look, their butts were in pain. constipation and horse back riding... same thing really. you'd actually need metal balls and cast iron butts to be able to ride these horses. these locals must be mutants.

struggling with my balance, i tried doing a little interview with the guy guiding my horse. but he wasn't so interested in a little chitchat, so i contented myself to chatting with the horse and the occasional bird gliding above me. hello horse, how's life treating you? you be careful now, we wouldn't want to fall down the side of the cliff would we? if you take me down safely, i could give your master a tip so he could buy you some more hay. wouldn't that be nice? hello bird, how are you today? and how are you and mrs. bird, still going strong? and the kids? so on and so forth...

my butt in pain, i finally return to the little village at the foot of the volcano, where i was regaled by an old woman with her story on how she escaped the 1968 explosion of taal. as to why they still choose to live here with the possibility of another explosion, i have no idea. maybe the locals just like living on the edge. or they must have some sort of death wish. how... existential.

the rest of the group finally arrive, and we get back to our boat. good thing the return trip was no longer as hellish, the winds having calmed a bit.

our shoes also acquired a nice new shade of brown. in case crayola decides adding it to its collection of colors, boss joseph suggests calling it "volcanic brown". i suggest "horse shit brown".

so we got back to our van on the mainland, went up to tagaytay for dinner, got stuck on saturday night traffic on the highway, and then, to our hotel in makati.

the moral of the story? NEVER EVER ignore your spider sense again.

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some of the pictures courtesy of roy