We awoke this morning to thunder that sounded as though a rhinoceros was taking out a personal grievance on a garage door. The sound was colossal and swirling rain lashing the side of our 'room' reminded me fondly of my soggy Wales.

Our 'room' is a concrete box with no windows and an air conditioning system that has the force of a two year old blowing out their birthday candles. I'm afraid that I can't complain too much however as it's my fault that we're here. When we got off our plane last night I looked up the address of our hostel and realised that it was a three hour drive away - oops. We then had to sharpishly book this place to ensure that we had a roof over our heads. It isn't too bad I suppose, we have stayed in far worse. Naturally, Chelsea has taken the higher ground and not mentioned my blunder... I'm sorry, I had a stroke when writing that last sentence. She hasn't shut up about not being able to trust me to book anything. God forbid that we remember two days ago when we thought we were going to miss our flights because she hadn't allowed enough time for baggage collection! Anyway...

In the morning Chelsea was under the impression that in my travelling contract I had signed up for being in charge of the water. We are two and a half months in and this is the first time I have been introduced to this role, despite her assurances that I have been from day one. Apparently, to not restock our water supply is a crime punishable by death and as she now has a sore throat I should be killed twice.

With Chelsea's wrath nudging me out of the door I stepped out into torrential rain and wind in my flip flops and rain coat in search of water and a little breakfast.

I actually really enjoyed the walk, it was nice not to be cooked alive by the sun/Chelsea's glare and feel rain on my skin again. At seven in the morning the narrow and pot holed streets were already building to a jumbled mess of people, bicycles with side carts and a forest of umbrellas as far as the eye could see. The area was not affluent but everyone I passed smiled despite their hardships and the weather, and focused their energies on getting their children to school or waiting for the next bus. Walking through puddles up to my kneecaps was liberating and I found a small shop amongst a mountain of coconut husks and bought some water for her Ladyship. I then followed my nose like a springer spaniel to a bakery and bought some sugared breads for breakfast, four buns cost 32p! I love a cheap breakfast.

The bread tasted delicious and even chelsea couldn't rustle up a complaint!

There is a festival in Cebu at the moment called Sinulog, it celebrates the start of Christianity in the Philippines. Attempting to book a taxi from our accommodation as our host told us that taxi companies were closed due to the festival; this as obviously a heap of tripe but we we're stuck. The inevitable eventually happened and he suggested a driver that he knew that could take us. We haggled expertly until we had a reasonable price for our journey. A British couple that had been living in Australia for two years, Alex and Rose, joined us for the journey. They were a young and fun couple and we realised that we were all heading for Oslob and the whale sharks, so decided to stick together.

We arrived at Cebu bus station which was a chaotic mass of tiny Filipino bodies all jostling for their desired bus. The rain was pouring and the air inside the bus station was thick with moisture.

We eventually got a pretty saucy bus (complete with film and air con) for 160PHP each. The ride was long but comfortable and we got off near our accommodation and trundled there in the drizzle.

In the night the four of us went in search of food and were directed to an outdoor barbecue, it smelled delicious and I was anxious to sample the street food here. On a trestle table next to a small barbecue was an array of food: chicken intestines threaded onto a stick, chicken feet, pork chops, chicken legs, sausage, squid, octopus some of it look delicious while some of it looked alarmingly vile.

Feeling dicey I opted for some pork skewers and some chicken feet. The pork was scrumptious, doused in some sort of local sauce and charcoaled a little on the barbecue. Scaly though the chicken leg was the most unappealing thing about them was the way that the toes had charred and curled inwards like a closed palm. I didn't really see the point in it as there was virtually no meat on it, despite my vigorous gnawing of it. It was however, covered in the same delicious marinade as the pork so I ended up just popping it in my mouth like a lolly and sucked contentedly on the ankle bone.