Part 23: Standing room only....
I was still on high from my Island exploration yesterday - It was such a fantastic day and left me wondering if I could ever better the experience.
We had to check out of the accommodation really early this morning to head north on Palawan island, to the fishing village of Sabang.
There were several ways to do this.
One was take a non stop air-conditioned people carrier, the other was to go by boat.
But I decided to choose the wild card...the local village bus - If it was good enough for the villagers, then it was most certainly good enough for me.
Now a journey normally no more than 90 minutes seemed easy enough, so this option had appeal for lots of different reasons.
Firstly, It was ridiculously cheap.
Secondly, I wanted a first hand experience to see how the locals got from A to B on Palawan.
Thirdly I could see all the tiny towns and villages en route.
And lastly, more opportunity to get to know the people and way of life better.
The roads and transportation were extremely modest here and Infrastructure practically non existence with long muddy, unpaved and bumpy roads that usually involve several transfers to get from North to south.
The tiny wifi and phone signal I had in Puerto Princesa along with electricity would be left behind.
A real sense of uncertainty and adventure awaited us for the next few days.
People who know me best back home may be thinking to themselves, whats going on here? - And they would be right.
This is something that I would never consider in a million years normally, so I notably prepped my backpack once more and got a motorbike trike to the scorching bus terminal in the already baking sun.
When I arrived I noticed a couple of French girls waiting there and tried to make conversation.
'Are you guys heading to Sabang'
I chirped.
'Nope, El Nido' one grunted bluntly.
'Ah cool, thats supposed to be really nice. Which bus are you getting'
I asked.
They just pointed to the white brand new Air-conditioned people carrier to my left - Pffft! I scoffed in my mind, thinking where was their sense of adventure.
It was really hard work making conversation with 2 girls who clearly would have rather been anywhere other than Asia let alone Palawan!
They bemoaned the heat, the food, the people, in fact just about everything.
I stopped just short of some sarcastic retort as they boarded their shiny air conditioned transport. So I proceeded to search for my bus - then suddenly it hit me!
I realised I may have been a tad hasty in choosing the local option - In front of me, and waiting, was a brightly coloured old bus with no windows,
It was rusting, beaten up and there were people sat on the top along with a humongous pile of bags, luggage, supplies, fruit, vegetables and sacks of rice stacked high up.
One of the bare chested locals on the roof called at me to throw my backpack up to him, which I did.
And then I made my way onto the bus.
Inside I was hit by the sweltering heat which nearly knocked me off my feet.
Still I was slightly relieved to have made my way to the rear, where an empty seat was next to one of the open windows, so I quickly sat down.
In a few minutes my t-shirt was completely drenched in sweat, but worse was to follow as a large group of locals got on board. Then more families with children arrived - all were allowed on and everyone squeezed up to make space.
I was half hanging out of the window completely exposing my left arm and face to the stupendously hot sun-rays.
As frustrating as it was it just added to the charm - but make no mistake, this was going to be one hell of a journey.
I just repeated the mantra 'pasensya' in my head.
With great difficulty I managed to grab a small travel towel I packed in my hand luggage earlier, which was by my feet, and stuffed it down the back of my tshirt to soak up some of the sweat.
Then some factor 50, but it was impossible to put it on in the ridiculously over crowded and congested bus - so for now, my arm and face were exposed to the elements. My only option would have been to ask the passenger next to me to reach over and rub some on me, which judging by the look of him, perhaps was not the best Idea I had.
The bus remained stationary for what seemed like an eternity - I was soaked, squashed, irritable, claustrophobic, hotter than the sun and we had not even left yet - oh how that sweet, sweet air conditioned people carrier would have been a far better option.
Curse my sense of adventure and those 2 snobby French girls....
Finaly the bus pulled off with a loud sound and smell so pungent that it would have had my mechanic brother in a frenzy back home - clutch and gears were grinding, and with an almost overpowering smell of diesel - off it went.
Just to make matters a little worse and uneasy, the driver was chain smoking.
Then barely 5 mins in, the bus pulled over, to let yet more passengers on!!
No one appeared bothered or irritable, they just patiently sat huddling up even more to make space. All jokes aside, these people had a bus etiquette that beggared belief.
They are so considerate and helpful to each other, and as is always the case, nobody ever complains.
Off chugged the bus once more kicking up dust as it did so on the bumpy road.
When it gathered speed, the air and breeze cooled me down somewhat, but my left arm and face were cooking in the sun.
Just as I started to enjoy the wind, the driver slowed down once more.
This time to fill up with fuel at a small petrol station, which looked like it was straight out of the 1950's.
The passengers patiently waited as the driver conversed and joked with one of the assistants, whilst the pump attendant who had a lit cigarette in his mouth!! a mobile phone in his left hand!! and the fuel pump in his right!!
Looking around me no one even flinched as he proceeded to fill the tank up!!
After almost holding my breath for the entire time, the bus pulled away once more to continue our journey north.
The roads where even bumpier than I'd imagined and were so dusty, completely coating my fried, sweating arm.
I bent my head underneath the window frame to get more air, pulling my bandana over my mouth to stop me choking on the thick dust.
My head and left arm were completely outside.
The wind was blowing and cooling me down a little as we were were passing gorgeous coastal roads on my right with a magnificent spiky mountain range to my left, and huge green tropical palm trees.
With my head still poking out the window, I looked up to see the sandalled dirty feet of the men on the roof, sat amongst the cargo with their bandanas and sunglasses on.
They smiled, giving me the thumbs up.
The bus was approaching a small cluster of familiar huts that looked like a village.
Not more people I thought as the bus stopped yet again - we were already packed more tightly than a can of sardines.
But the men on the roof started throwing down sacks of rice to grateful villagers and happy kids. Turns out that as well as a transportation bus, we were a supply chain to the passing villagers.
A tiny cute girl who could not have been more than 5 in a pretty pink top clutching a teddybear walked towards me smiling and waving. I captured a picture as she shyly looked on.
We then accelerated off, and this is how it continued, stopping and starting dozens of times at every settlement or village to drop off supplies.
The driver was on his cell phone talking loudly to who I can only assume was his wife.
So we stopped near some village shops and he got off to pick up bags of shopping, before continuing.
No one even flinches at all.
Can you imagine a routine bus to London packed with passengers, the drivers wife calls his phone.
'Pop in to sainsbury's love and grab some bread and milk'
And whilst the full bus of people waited, he darts into the supermarket to do a bit of shopping.
This is exactly what was going on here right now - I lost count how many times we stopped!
More than 2 hours had passed and I did not have the slightest idea how far into the journey we were or how long was left.
What I did know was my backside was aching from the hard seats, my arms and face were sunburned, my throat was dry, I was soaking wet through in sweat, but what right did I have to complain or moan - no body else was, they carried on as normal.
Not being able to afford the luxury of air condition vans, this was their only option. These people had it tough.
The 80pesos fare (£1.10p) was a lot of money to them.
So I shut my mouth, and got on with it.
But this still felt like it was the longest bus journey I'd ever been on in my life.
No phone, no book and not really any conversation to distract me, instead I chose to look out the window at the not to shabby scenery to keep me occupied.
When we pulled over at another village, young girls with baskets of bread and sandwiches where selling them to the passengers through the windows.
I opted against trying some, leaving my appetite, and stomach way behind on the bumpy winding roads as by now, I was feeling a little travel sick.
Pasensya Vince.
The supply stops become more and more frequent, the roads were getting worse and still everyone patiently waited.
One section was particularly perilous. There was some repair work being carried out on a small bridge so it was closed off.
The driver then had to manoeuvre down a steep embankment and really tricky terrain to get to the other side.
No mean feat I can assure you, with a freakishly over loaded bus, packed to the rafters with people and cargo.
We wobbled from side to side and the clutch grinded badly, but much to his credit, he made it across.
The poor guys on the roof of the bus must have been so hot and exhausted
from unloading all the supplies at all the stops and where completely covered in dust.
This journey was starting to really takes it toll on me, nearly 4 hours had passed, I must have lost about a stone through sweating so much.
There were no road signs to be seen anywhere, in fact I'd not seen one on the entire journey.
We were almost at the foot of the sharp mountains now, It really was a spectacular view. The palm tress were a little denser too and we reached a really steep road.
The driver worked the gears as we crawled at walking pace upwards - you could smell the clutch burning, and for an anxious moment, I did not think we would make it up.
But this chain smoking driver had some skills I tell you - he knew exactly what he was doing, inching upwards, we made it to the top.
Bringing into view a stupendous vista of the gleaming blue coast, it was breathtaking.
For the rest of this journey, I just sat patiently, or at least on the outside I was.
Admiring the coast, mountains and scattered people that occasionally lined the road.
Then at long last the amazing site of a wooden sign saying 'welcome to Sabang' was there in front of me.
The driver pulled up literally a few feet away from the sand.
As I finally stepped off the bus peeling my backside off the sticky seat, the whole journey was completely worth while.
The village was beautiful, mountainous and the sea was so blue.
This was the best way to get here, I indeed chose wisely.
Vince 1-Snobby French girls 0.....