The trip involved a couple of Jeepney rides initially. The roads aren't paved and had been washed out a couple of times this year, so we bumped along in the back watching the wheels slide along next to the edge of the cliff with our hearts in our throats.
The jungle scenery was fantastic. We passed waterfalls coming down through the mountains spraying mist over the road.
After the jeepneys we switched again to a van. The van was relaxing for the first hour or so because no one was joining us. But it slowly filled up to bursting point with Nicci sitting next to a bag of grain with a small lady stuffed on top for good measure while I tried to breathe underneath a pile of backpacks and flax bags.
With some uniquely Filipino driving, we went for a head-on collision between ourselves and a truck, neither wishing to move for the other. The fact that we were on the wrong side of the road, overtaking a bus didn't help. We slipped in with a few feet to spare and our driver did the sign of the cross. I felt like twatting him and saying "God helps those who help themselves. Don't drive like a knob!"
From the van we switched to a ferry, but it was six hours late, so we would get into Boracay at two in the morning. God appeared once again in this deeply religious but painfully daft country. They loudly played a Christian prayer on the boat's screens before leaving. It was asking God to give them a safe journey. I thought it would be better if they asked God to take off the chains they had stupidly wrapped around the emergency doors.
Finally we come to Boracay. It is a delight. Coconut palms line the beautiful white sand beach. A hammock swings gently on the outside of our bamboo hut. Ace. The Philippines is a cool country.
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