Zach flew into Manila on Monday, June 2nd. Suave man that he is, he immediately hailed a taxi to my place with a fine bottle of champagne in hand. I ended up with a bloody nose and we woke up the neighbors shouting in French at each other. A likely beginning.
Manila had begun to wear on Zach after two days, so we split for Puerto Galera, which is a three-hour bus ride and a one-hour ferry away from Manila. It’s the place where Manila’s middle and upper class go when they don’t have the time or money to make it all the way to beautiful Boracay.
We left this behind:
We gained this last weekend:
And now we are headed here:
At least for one night. Then we will walk another 20 kilometers the next day. Then visit the isolated village near there, maybe get to take part in a harvest celebrations. We will fish for our food, cook rice in banana leaves, and sleep under a tarp. We may or may not be able to avoid the Communist rebels that hide up in the hills. Basically, we will be doing Hemingway proud for a week in the northern Luzon backcountry. As long as we can find our trusty guide, Dan, up in Sagada, we should be OK. But he seems to have fallen off the earth. Or I misplaced his phone number. I’ll try to update from base camp, but might not get the chance. We will resurface around June 21st. Or not.
Update: We did leave Manila.