Conquering Kinabalu, Day 1

We lived!
And we owned everyone, including this stupid mountain:
I even laughed in the face on the mountain. Ha-ha!
In all, the 26-hour, 17 kilometer odyssey (started at 945am on Monday morning, hit the top at 530am on Tuesday morning and finally finished at noon on Tuesday afternoon) was probably the most difficult thing either of us had ever done. I told Logan it was probably the biggest accomplishment of our lives (he was more non-commital, but still, kinda a big deal). To recap as briefly as possible:

Monday
945am to 1245pm: 6km straight up, right to Laban Ratan (our lodge)

Tuesday
3am to 515am: 2.5km super-straight up (ropes mostly required) --- 40 minute rest at top for sunrise
6am to 8am: 2.5km super-straight down.
10am to 12pm: 6km down further.

The end.

In sum, about 9 hours of intense hiking action for roughly 40 minutes of total satisfaction (some people only stayed at the top for like 5 minutes, it was so cold!), with lack of sleep and absolute physical exhaustion thrown in for good measure.

And today as I write this, our legs are totally crippled, it feels like someone's just been punching them non-stop for the last 24 hours, never been this sore in my life. At our hostel in KK today (the day after the climb), our room was on the 4th floor and it might as well been on the 40th, it seemed that freakin far. It probably took me about 2 minutes to get to the lobby on the 2nd floor (no more than 50 steps) because I had to make sure I had a hand on the railing and that both feet were planted firmly on each step, step by step, giving me the walking skills of either an infant or an 125-year old man.

But all the day-after aches, all the waddling like a penguin, all the weird looks today from strangers at the food court or on the bus or on the airport stairs boarding and getting off the plane, all of them wondering why you are taking forever to take one measly step, all of it --- it was all worth it.

And for the record, we did the 6km climb up in 3 hours (it's supposed to take like 5 or 6), passing what Logan estimated as 80 people (most with walking sticks, full on hiking gear, the works) along the way and getting to our hotel at Laban Rata in the first handful of people up.

And also for the record, we were the last group to leave for the summit at 3am (after like 160 other people), but in the first dozen or so to the top, staking out the prime seats for the sunrise.

Just proof that with enough will, some music (my iPhone speaker was on blast the entire way up), a couple high-fives from strangers and loads and loads of painkillers, you can do anything! Yep, we owned everyone. Here's our reward for being such baller mountain climbers:
So I guess I'll start from the night before we climbed, since there's some stuff in there I want to remember. I'll try to be as concise as possible, but you know how that goes.

SUNDAY NIGHT
10pm: The night before. After blogging about the climb, I feel roughly like I do before a final: outwardly anxious and focused on what could go wrong (really, Stan Smiths and shorts?!), but subconsciously, pretty confident. A little worried about my back holding up (and needing like a gazillion surgeries down the road), but all and all, me and Logan are pretty sturdy, so no reason to really fret. Got 'emz.

We decide to make sure we get all packed up the night before. 530am wake-up call (I need to stretch and pop some pills a little early to prep), so we want to be good to go in the morning.

But before, I head over to our Taiwanese friends Yen's room to grab his flashlight (the 2.5km to the top is in the dark). Along the way, I muster up the courage to ask if I can borrow his Nikon 18-105 lens for the climb (forgot to mention that I broke my wide-angle lens on Day 2 in Dumaguete, something I was bummed about, considering the real reason I brought my camera was for the Kinabalu climb. Standard idiot move).

Yen is the nicest guy ever, so of course he says yes. I give him my 55-200 zoom lens in return. 30 minutes later, he comes to ask for my laptop as collateral. No problem. I'm amped, I get to take pictures!

12-1am-ish: Still pumped. As we go to sleep, I'm pretty anxious. I tell Logan it feels kinda like the night before Christmas. I totally forgot he was Jewish, so he doesn't really acknowledge me. Oops. Whatever, we're still pretty pumped. Les go!

MONDAY
530am: Wake up, do the requisite pills and stretch. Grab a quick breakfast (we're carbo-loading on the hostels free white toast and papaya) and out the door with Ester, our Dutch climbing companion and default partner-in-climb, who neither of us are entirely fond of.

A word on Ester: Our first night in KK, we ate with her at the night market, and realized pretty quickly we didn't mesh that well --- she was into awkward stares, putting packets of sugar on every she eats and just making us feel generally uncomfortable. And turned out she was climbing the mountain the same day as us. Someone to share a taxi with, we thought, but maybe not someone to climb up the mountain with or stay overnight at Laban Rata with (or so we thought, more on this later).

7am: The three of us hop in our taxi headed for the base of Mt. Kinabalu at the KK Park HQ. A Malaysian morning-show plays on the radio. Everyone fades in and out of sleep. The cabbie named Chong stops for gas. He pays 30 ringgits. He is getting 48 riggits to drive us 1.5 hours to the mountain. His net is 18 ringgits (like $6 bucks US). I think this is a bad deal for him.

Here's Logan getting pumped for the climb in the taxi:
9am: Make it to the Park HQ for check in. Logan is doing most of the heavy lifting, figuring out paper work and running us from place to place. I am AWOL, trying to get some stretching in before we go. Definitely worrying about having to carry a backpack of clothes and fatty camera (not to mention the 4 liters of water in Philson, our travel companion that I'm determined to bring to the top) straight up 8km. My back is pissed.

915am: We meet Azham, our guide and sage for the next 26 hours. He's short, friendly, soft spoken and I think he vaguely resembles Manny Pacquio. He also has a sixth finger on his right hand right below his thumb that sort of resembles another pinky. Logan names him "Alfonseca" after the great relief pitcher for the Marlins and Cubs (his name was Antonio Alfonseca), who threw 95 MPH and also had six fingers on his throwing hand.

920am: After stretching alone for a few minutes, I walk back to Logan and the rest of our group. He has a look on his face like he has something to say, only I'm not gonna like it. His look says it all: Ester is climbing with us. She asked to join us and Azham for 40 ringgits (she didn't have a guide and you are required to have one), he couldn't say no. I agree. Even still, 5-6 potential hours is looking more painful now, especially since we can actually see the Mt. and it looks taller:

930am: Short drive to the start of the trail. We make it without crashing (a couple of close calls on the windy roads). We get out. Logan sees some scrawny, Korean guy in some brand new black Chuck Taylor's getting ready to go up.

"If that dude can do it in Converse, I can definitely do it in Stan Smiths," he says. Good point.

945am: The journey begins!

We walk 5 minutes or so and then find some Australians hiking and start celebrating a little early. "We made it!" They thought we were serious for a couple seconds and then laugh. We head forward, Logan in the front, Ester in the middle, me staying behind with Azham following. This formation wouldn't last.
10am: Ester is already starting to lag. The night before, as she waxed her hiking boots in preparation for rain ("Well, it's definitely going to rain," she declared like a meterologist, a prophecy that didn't come to pass), she smuggly asks me if I am a fast walker, the thin grin on her face implying that she's gonna smoke me or something. Phhh. Fat chance, Ester.

Shortly after I pass her, me and Logan have to wait a couple minutes for her and Azham to catch up (since he is obligated to follow behind the slowest person in the group). "You are fast walkers," she concedes.

We take a break for some reason after barely starting. Azham and the other guides (who could cllimb Kinabalu in their sleep) discuss how all the tourists that climb Kinabalu are slow and unfit and fat:
1010am: We hit the 1km mark. Ester says we can go ahead without her, so we do, kinda forgetting to say goodbye. She stays back with Azham. Sorry, Azham. We take a photo to celebrate:
1030am: The next few km are just a blur. Me and Logan start playing six-degrees-of-separation games with NBA players to pass time. This helps. So does the music from my iPod. Between those two things, we knock out the next 3 km pretty tidily, easily passing the halfway mark (which is pictured below, where I was already covered in sweat and gasping for air)

The mist of the mountains gives Logan gray hair, as he angrily ponders why he decided to do this:
The jungle we slayed
1115am: 4km mark. Water break. I decide to have a cigarette (from Indonesia!) with this Malaysian dude name Fad (cool guy), just to see how it feels at high altitude, here he is with his friend/possible son
It's pretty rough, I stumble and almost fall backwards my next couple steps. Bad decision. The trek continues, but not before we take a picture and celebrate prematurely, a rookie move
The final 2km were what you would expect, just tough work, where you feel each step more and more and the final destination seems like it will never, ever come.

0.5km left, brink of collapse
1245pm: The end (of at least the first leg) finally comes. After 6km, there's nothing but relief, even with 11km left in the next 24 hours. Anything is posssibbbbleeee!!! Our lodge is finally upon us
And Philson made it too
2pm: Settle in at Laban Rata. Very nice, good looking buffet. Our accomodations
Me celebrating on the porch by getting rid of my sweaty ass shirt and taking a picture
230pm: Good news: The hot water for the showers works. Bad news: Ester is staying with us. Still not sure how this is possible, since the dorms were separated between men/women, but we don't protest, accepting our fate handed down by the mountain gods.

5pm: Fat buffet. We do work (predictably).

7pm: Everyone scurries off to go to bed for the early wake-up call at 2am. I'm not really tired, so I hang out on the porch with a Norwegian couple and smoke Norwegian cigarettes with them. There is an awesome lightning storm show that we have a cool view of, here's the porch sans lightning:
9pm: Lightning stops. Lights at lodge are all out. Go to sleep for three hours. Wake up at 12am. Sit and bed for a while and wake til the 2am rise-and-shine.

I guess that's where I'll stop for now, on to the top tomorrow, since my legs are shot and I'll probably be bed-ridden most of the day (I promise more pictures, less words).

Quick Update: Gosh darn, it's already 4am here in KL (Kuala Lumpur). Just got in tonight, staying at the Reggae House 2, which was so popular, they made a second one. We got lucky at showed up at their door at 130am (Reggae 1 was full on booked) and the place is gorgeously modern and clean.

There was nothing left for us in KK, anyways --- the last image that I have of it was a little kid peeing into the top of sewer on the street as we walked by a block from our hostel, only to watch his friends play hopscotch over it. "If you lose, you fall in the pee," Logan said excitedly. HAHAHA. Not like KK was even that kind of kids-peeing-in-the-streets city (fairly clean, pretty well-developed, nice people), we only had one other kid peeing incident, but that was at the waterfront, a much more understandable place.

And to further put in perspective our being done with KK, we went to the movies again last night and saw Killers starring Ashton Kutcher. Awesome.

Anyways, like I said, we're ready for something new in KL. Hopefully my legs will be recovered by tomorrow. Til next time (probably tomorrow)

Peace, Love and Sustainability,
Jack

The Day Before Tomorrow in KK...

Gulp.
Super Gulp.
After Avatar, our "Good Luck" from Taken mantra has been replaced by the ominous "DOO-DOO-DOO-DOOOOOOOO" in the score that plays every 4.3 seconds after the destruction on Pandora. We've probably used it 50-60 times in the last 24 hours (if you ate some bad chicken satay at the night market and your stomach is feeling kinda funny...."DOO-DOO-DOO-DOOOOOOOO")... in case you forgot, here's what it sounds like:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=glsyYJksGtg

Well, with all 14,000 feet or so of Mount Kinabalu staring at us in the next couple days, that song is just playing in my head over and over, but it's quickly becoming less and less funny. Those 2 pictures are just a couple of the album from my friend Yen (a Taiwanese dude whose staying at our hostel and did the trek a few days ago), and the rest of the album just makes the mountain look more and more unforgiving. Vertical Limit with Chris O'Donnell status.

Anyways, Yen's been very helpful giving us pointers and encouragement, but the bottom line is that me and Logan are woefully unprepared for this trek and more or less winging it (to put in perspective: I don't have pants even though the Mt. is supposed to be 0 celsius when we hit the peak, and Logan is planning on doin the whole thing in his Stan Smith Adidas sneakers. And it's probably gonna rain, too, maybe even thunderstorms. Perfect! God help us).

I'm writing this from a Coffee Bean with free wifi at 10:15pm or so as we try to have an easy night in prepping the next two days for our ascend up SE Asia's tallest peak. Here's our barebones itinerary:

6am: Wake up tomorrow, walk from hostel to bus station
7am: Leave by minivan to KK National Park
9am (or so): Start up Mt. Kinabalu, climb for 5 or so hours (gulp!)
2-3pm: Reach Laban Rata (our hostel that is 2,000 feet from the summit)
3pm: Rest, Rest, Rest
6pm: Dinner

The Next Day:
2am: Wake up (yikes!)...then walk 3 hours to get to the top for sunrise (the moment of truth)
5am: Trek down 14,000 feet (which everyone says is just as grueling if not more than the ascend)
2-3pm: Finish
3pm: Sleep for 24-48 hours.

So, yeah! I am part excited and thanks to Yen's pictures, a very large part terrified! But a good kind of terrified. (And as I'm writing it just started pouring! Woo hoo).

Anyways, I should be AWOL for the next few days, but hopefully I'll bring back some pictures and myself, as well. Until we meet again, talk to y'all soon. I'm off to go pray to Sir Edmund Hilary or something...

Love,
Jack

And hopefully this won't be us tomorrow... (Jimmy, you're literally the only person I expect to get the reference)

Life in Pictures in Duma (con't)

I had to work that picture in, just because it was way, way too weird not too. It was our first night in Dumaguete and we were hanging out at this bar/music spot called Hayahay, it was reggae night and the whole scene was totally surreal (me, Chris and Logan just hanging out halfway across the world).

Anyways, there was this old dude who was creepin on Filipino people the whole night (started with girls, then shifted to guys). We all wanted to know his backstory, so Logan persuaded me to go and ask him for a cigarette to spark a conversation. I reluctantly did, and he was ultimately pretty uninterested in talking to me (I wasn't Filipino or young enough, I guess). And Logan immediately regretted getting me to talk to him when he came over to our table, I've never seen Logan so fidgety hopin someone would leave.

But I did get him to give up that his name was Ted, he was a Philosophy teacher from Chicago (giving the Windy City a bad name) and he was a guest lecturer at Silliman University (the enemy of FU). He loved to dance. And he was moderately- to extremely-creepy, depending on your perspective. Just thought I'd throw him in there to put in perspective that there are plenty of creeper "Joes" (Filipino-speak for white guy) and that they are a small but noticeable part of the culture hanging around. Which sucks, because those Joes are giving white guys a bad name). And now I have a picture with him and a Filipino dude named Lionel. Awesome!

MOVING ON, QUICKLY (hopefully that wasn't too scarring)...

Day 3! Futsol (indoor soccer) tournament at Robinson's and Waterfall

Awesome day here. Dean Sinco squeezed us onto the FU alumni soccer team for this ridiculous 5-on-5 indoor soccer tournament in a mall. Here's what the scene looked like:
At 12pm, we finally took to the pitch against the Kickerz, who Dean told us were a bunch of slow dudes who we would handle. Since me and Logan were like the size equivilant of 3 Filipinos, and we had Chris (who is an experienced FU and UW intramural player), as well as JR (a bagel making awesome guy who Dean said could have played for the national team had he been given the shot), we thought we'd own. Not quite.

We went down 4-0 because of some poorly placed mopped water. Bummer. We showed some fight and scored three straight to make it 4-3. I was playing goalie in the second half and coming out of goal every second to attack, which every Filipino freaked out about and thought I was some insane Joe who didn't know shit about soccer. It was funny. Anyways, I gave up a goal late in the second half and that killed our momentum and we lost 5-3, but JR (the bagel-making soccer whiz had a hat trick, so that was cool).

Thankfully, though, Dean treated us to the unhealthiest meal known to man afterwards as consolation: a starter of Mister Donut donuts, to go with buckets of KFC with heaps of gravy. Grease and fat to the max, it was pretty death-defying to eat and survive. The carnage:

After the game, we collected our stomachs and drove up to this ridiculous waterfall that was about 30 minutes drive up the mountain outside of Duma. We had to do a lot of off-roading to find it, but in the end, it was more than worth it. We got to go swimming in the pond where the fall was too, which was awesome...I wanted to go underneath it, but Sinco and Logan were pretty convinced I'd get knocked unconscious if I did. Pretty sure they were right. Anyways, heres how it looked.

Walking there
Almost falling off the bridge

Dumaguete's answer to Niagara

"There were horses, and a man on fire, and I killed a man with a trident."

We are happy


After we wrapped up there, we started driving home, but decided to go up the mountain, which was an adventure. Things kept getting less and less paved and there was less and less road, which made things worrisome (but despite the lack of development, there were still VOTE FOR BOBOT FOR OFFICER signs, even in the shantytowns away from civilization - this was hilarious).

30 minutes and driving up gravel and unpaved roads, we made it to the top (totally blind luck), which happened to also be the Japanese monument commemorating something to do with WWII. We applauded ourselves for the good fortune and hung out, grabbed drinks and chips and soaked it in. Then a Singaporian dude named Bryan who lived in the huts at the top of the mountain came and talked to us for a bit. Then we went home.

View from the top (that's Bryan's hut)
Youve been warned
The other side


And that was, in a nutshell, Day 3. We went home for dinner, me and Logan went home to get massages (which Chris watched for about 80 percent of the time, which only made it that much more awkward, making small talk about the Orlando Magic while someone is rubbing your face). And we crashed early because we had to get ready for...

Day 4: SCUBA.

We were all totally newbs to scuba and the experience couldn't have been cooler. A crew of 5 guys came and picked us up from Foundation to go to Apo Island (of course the whole operation was planned by Dean's assistant Karen and every detail was taken care of). The dudes were all nice guys, but we only really got to make nice with to the two that spoke english, Alvin (the dive master who rode in the back of the jeepney with us) and Samuel (who made sure we pronounced his name Samwell and Alvin called "Samuel Jackson").

Heading over to the Apo, Chris is ready for his headshot
More happiness in the jeepney goin over

Alvin and Samuel Jackson gettin ready to boat to Apo
We got there and Alvin showed us a 14-page manual and pretty much we were ready to go. 20 minutes and you know how to scuba, perfect. After a little adjusting to the gear and ways, we all got the hang pretty quick. Here's what the dive spot looked like
After our first dive

Typical Filipino workday (one of the drivers on our boat)

After jumpin in for dive No. 2, we stayed in for a while. We saw a turtle! But mostly the coral was the big draw and looked like this:
Triumphant

After that the guys rushed us back to the mainland because we had a BBQ to make with Dean and Patrick and a bunch of people that they work with in IT. After 30 minutes and a lot of coordinating, we got swooped by Dean's assistant Karen and made it to the BBQ. This was our first encounter with a lot of different Filipino traditions. First, we got there and everyone was playing Hip Hip Horray. It was bizarre. Then they started a Miss Gay Contest (which everyone thought was the funniest thing ever). And we also got our first exposure to the infamous lechon and the expression "CHACK...EAT THE LECHON"

In case you were wondering what lechon is, check it out...Babe, Pig in the City (before)

And after...

More carnage
The Miss Gay Contest (we're still all trying to figure out why this was funny, just dudes dressing up like girls and walking around dainty like)
Malyn loves the Miss Gay!

And of course, Dean was throwing chairs at stray dogs lookin for scraps, so that made for some good laughs. So between scuba, BBQ and another night on the beachwall at Hayahay talking to locals, that was Day 4.
Tomorrow I'll get down Day 5 (which was the COCKFIGHT!) and our couple-day trip to Bohol island (Ziplining, travel adventure/nightmare and karaoke with Filipino policemen)

Until then, gnight from KK.
-j

Dumaguete in Pictures (from KK)

GREAT NEWS: After much skepticism from everyone we asked, we are climbing Mt. Kinabalu (the highest peak in SE Asia) in two days! We talked to a number of people who had climbed it/are booked to do it, and the consensus response was "Good Luck" (what the Albanian sex kidnapper tells Liam Neeson in "Taken", our de facto mantra over the last 10 days)

Apparently, though, good luck is what we had, because you're usually supposed to book weeks or months in advance. Pumped!

Anyways, we did 12 hours of travel yesterday (including waiting at the KK airport for 1.5 hours for a bus that never came) and a day of hanging out in Kota Kinabalu, we are now safe and sound at a Coffee Bean with free internet in KK, Malaysia (and thankfully away from the hustle of Manila). Goodbye, Manny Pacquio!

Life is on an even keel and KK is very cool with the urban grit of night markets and street vendors without the rampant filth and scammy-feel of Manila --- there's not too much to do, though. Case and point: we got sucked into a mall food court (which actually has great food) and since it was raining, ended up seeing a movie and saw...wait for it...Avatar (how American)! It was only 15 ringeets or $4.50 US and Logan is still giddy and beaming about beating out the US prices and saving $12 since he never saw it in the states.

Anyways, the sunset on the walk home was pretty epic (KK is right on the water and the sunset sets over a nearby island right next door, apparently the city is famous for them). As we walked home to get my camera, it just kept getting better and better (typical) and I got home, ran up to get my camera, walked the block back to the waterfront...and by that time, it was pretty much dark (also typical). Logan got some cool shots, so I'll upload em when I get the chance.

For now, I'm gonna throw up some pictures from our time in Dumaguete, trying to be in chrono order.

Mural of the founding Sinco, the original king of Dumaguete

The main lawn at Foundation, right at the front door of the Lola's house/Sinco compound

Day 2: Farm and FU/Silliman scrimmage: We spent like 3 hours our second day in the afternoon at the Sinco family farm. It's pretty massive and very green for all you hippies out there -- these huge water buffalo (below with Logan) take massive dumps and they collect all their waste and put it into chambers to create methane gas that essentially is the power to make the farm run. It's sustainable!

Beside that, there's pigs (Logan's new BFFs) and chickens (they lay eggs and then they get eaten, just like the pigs). On the second farm that we checked out, there's a bunch of mango trees (like 1000) and more sustainable stuff (like a fat box with worms that they sell to people). The farm is a serious, sustainable factory. It's big time.

We make it to the farm, the clouds descend

Our feast at the bamboo hut, with fat bottles of Coke (standard Filipino beverage), Jack fruit (good name, okay fruit), and those banana leaf things are this Filipino dish that's essentially a rice tamale (kinda bland but good)


Me being Asian leavin the hut, ready to hang with the pigs

These methane gas making beasts were apparently imported from Belgium, so Logan kept asking him if they liked it better in the Philippines and they all nodded! Except one who took a dump when he asked (so he figured that meant he didn't like Belgium at all)...

Logan finds the only creatures on the Philippines that DON'T like eating pork and makes friends with his Star of David (they swarm him)..."I come in peace," he says

The Scrimmage: Below, that's Josh, the son of Kurtz, who was the score keeper of the FU-Silliman scrimmage.

The two refs for the game were from Silliman (the bad guys), so the assistant coach Kurtz (who is actually an ex-pat from Milwaukee named John and owns a bunch of Mr. Donut chains in Dumaguete now) asked if we would ref the second half. I kept complaining about how bad the reffing was (like I do in pretty much 99.9 percent of any basketball game) so I agreed. Terrible idea.

After about 30 seconds, I realized my error --- "I immediately regret this decision" or "I've made a huge mistake" --- and wished I was back in the rafters. Kurtz turned on me and started telling me that I was missing a bunch of foul calls for FU (typical coach), so I made even less calls to spite him. I forgot how annoying people can be when you ref.

Filipino basketball is essentially lawless, anyways, since everyone travels about every time they touch the ball and there's an insane amount of contact on defense that is generally accepted, which makes calling games by the book totally difficult. It made me indifferent, so I stopped making calls entirely (I compared it to how a police officer will stop being a good policeman in a lawless, crime-riddled country -- nothing you can do!)

Anyways, after a lot of complaining, eventually FU won on the final basketball like 45 painful minutes of reffing later. But again, I got another check off my bucket list ("Ref a college basketball game in SE Asia and almost call a technical on a whiny assistant coach who owns a donut chain.") Done and done.


Logan is waiting patiently to go eat and hit the food market for dinner, so I'll stop there... Will check in with more Dumaguete days tomorrow.

PS Send me an email or a text! I love hearing from y'all and I can receive texts for free on my American phone (doesnt cost you extra, either)... love, jack

See ya, Manila, Hello Malaysia

This country is not made for people over 5-foot-6. We're on our bus to Clark airport and I just went used the restroom on the bus and was too tall to stand up properly. On street posters for available jobs, it's common to see requirements of "MUST BE 5-FOOT-4 OR TALLER."

I can count on one hand the Filipinos I've been shorter than, not bad being taller than 99-percent of people you see. The only taller person than me is Logan (he's like 6'2, which is like 8'2 for Filipino standards) so I guess I'll just have to kill him.

Anyways, we got into Manila yesterday at about 11am. It's 24 hours later, we're on our bus to Angeles two hours north (Clark is in the former US military hub where our Air Asia flight leaves from) and the escape out of Manila couldn't come soon enough.

Definitely not willing to write the city off as a whole, especially considering how many pieces to the city's puzzle there are (something like 18 million in the greater metro area). Everyone I talked to who was pro-Manila said you needed weeks not days (and definitely not hours) to get to know it. So for now, I'll just write off the area we stayed (Malate), since it was on the whole dirty and touristy and funky. Not headed back there anytime soon.

We did get to see one nice section of the city yesterday for lunch, a totally overblown, ritzy mall complex called Greenbelt (like karate that is essentially The Bridge on crack. It's way bigger and way more confusing. But there were swanky, well-dressed people from all over (the most diversity I've seen in the Philippines), so it was a change.

Before lunch, we hit up this tourist spot called Fort Santiago, where the Spanish held down a military base for a quick second (400 years or so). It was also the spot where a Filipino intellectual/revolutionary turned martyr named Rizal was jailed and executed in 1896 before independence. Pretty touristy, minus the tourists (definitely off-season) it had a lot of cool writings from Rizal before he was to be executed, including his "Adios Ultimo" that he smuggled through a lamp to his family the day before he died.

Though there is a driving range literally right next door to his former cell that kinda kills the moment.

Other highlights included the other two western tourists we saw (a French and Lebanese flight attendants from Emirate Airlines, two friendly gay guys I talked with for a bit who took a lot of very dramatically posed pictures around the Fort, and who waved to us when we saw them at the airport later that day. The Lebanese guy was wearing an awesome cowboy hat, too).

Also, we took a bunch of pictures with Filson, me and Logan's new travel buddy. We met him last week at the supermarket. Well, technically we bought him at the supermarket, since he is just a 10 liter jug of water that we named, drew a face into and have been carrying around ever since (Filson is the name that Chris and Logan came up with for him, think Wilson from "Castaway" only Filipino).

He's been everywhere with us the last five days (he's even survived being left at a tiny village in Danao and the Bus Station about 30 minutes ago, got through Dumaguete Airport security with 4 liters of water and has endured frequent torture from Logan). Logan hates him at this point. I love him more every day (there will be plenty more of his story soon enough).

Anyways, yesterday was pretty low-key, we hung out at the Fort and the Greenbelt mall area until 3pm, when we had to go to the airport to drop off Dean, Chris and Patrick for their flight to Hawaii. After that, we got a ride to our hostel, checked in and took in all Malate had to offer (again, not much).

At night we settled in at the Sharwma Snack Shop because it was super big and clean with aircon and free wifi. Good place to get away from the grind of grimy, musty Malate. I stayed there for five hours until 3am, since it was far and away the nicest place we went in Malate.

Then we woke up early to watch the first half of the Lakers-Celtics final (dreadful), jumped in a taxi and shipped over to the bus station for our 1130am bus.

Now we're on to the next one (that Jay-Z song is locked in my head right now) 2 hours from airport before a 4pm flight from Clark to Kota Kinabalu in Malaysia (everyone just calls it KK). We just met a girl from the UK (don't remember her name, super hard to pronounce) that's on our flight, whose been traveling for like a year. She's also staying in the same Step-In Lodge as us in KK (and stayed at the same place I did in Boracay, as well). Young people traveling know most of the same, good spots. Good things.

Anyways, my four hours of sleep is catching up with me (Logan's head is already bobbing asleep next to me) so I'll check back in a little while and hopefully throw down some words on Dumaguete and Boracay.

The Wide World of Dumaguete

The parking lot at Robinson's Mall in Dumaguete. Our time is done in Duma, so let's go with it.

Anyways, writing about stuff is inherently more interesting if it's done in the moment...which is why it sucks that I went 8 days without getting a recap in Dumaguete.

I wanted to, but something --- listening to reggae at Hayahay for too long, not having an internet connection on my computer, seeing Prince of Persia for about $2 USD, having monsoons knock out the internet/electricity when I did have a connection --- seemed to get in the way.

Oh well. Just more motivation to check in every day over my last few weeks of travel.

Anyways, it's now 9am on June 3rd and me, Logan (my travel companion for the next 4 weeks), Chris (our Dumaguete host, UW alum and Microsoft prodigy), Patrick (Chris' brother, soon to be U of Hawaii graduate, guitarist) and Dean (Chris and Patrick's dad, the man in charge at Foundation University) are on a Philippines Airlines flight from Dumaguete to Manila.

Frasier is on our inflight TV's right now. Filipinos definitely have the whole transportation entertainment thing pegged (we got to watch The Medallion and Taken on our ferry to Tagbilaran, couldn't have been happier).

Here's our group (Logan, me, Chris bending down, Patrick -- not pictured, Dean, my goatee)...

Recapping the last 8 days is probably impossible to do without 10,000 words or so. I'm just gonna get into a bunch of different parts of our experience and fill in the blanks, since recapping 8 days individually in retrospect won't work. Starting with...

FOUNDATION UNIVERSITY (aka Home Sweet Home): At Berkeley, I always wondered what Chancellor Birgeneau's house would be like, what his standard of living is. In Dumaguete, I got the Filipino equivalent. I had no idea I was actually signing up for University Administrator/Family Dynasty Fantasy Camp, though it couldn't have worked out better and life couldn't have been cooler.


I showed up my first day at the gate in the picture above after splitting up from my Boracay diving/French-Canadian buddy Francois. Chris told me to just let the guard know I was there, say his name and they would call him. This seemed odd to me at the time, but after 8 days, it seemed more than normal.

We met up that first day after lunch and he took me on a brief tour --- first stop was the library/main office...which had his family name Sinco on the door, as it was also the Museo Sinco, essentially a museum dedicated to his great grandfather (who founded FU in 1949). At this point, I started to realize the Sinco family was also a dynasty. If you wanna check out the school, here's the link: http://foundationu.com/

Today, the school is essentially run by two people --- Chris' grandma Mira (who was known to us as 'Lola,' which means grandma) and Chris' dad Dean (an architect who doubles as a tech whiz and extreme soccer coach/disciplinarian). Between the two of them, they run FU and in many ways, the entire city of Dumaguete.

For perspective, this morning, we pulled into Dumaguete Airport through some special gate, with a nod and hand-wave from Lola. Of course the guard knew who she was. And at dinner last night, she was lamenting that she doesn't go out much because "too many people recognize her." At lunch, the president of the rival Silliman University said that Dumaguete would "suffer greatly" without her. In short, she is an institution. Ditto of Dean. And we were lucky enough to be their guests.

Here's "Sir Dean" (as he's called by FU students) throwing a chair at a BBQ, aimed for some stray dogs that kept trying to eat our scraps...
Life at Foundation was pretty much the exact opposite of backpack traveling in pretty much every way. When you travel, you are constantly thinking about how you are going to be self-sufficient, get from place to place, find food, water, shelter, etc. At FU, there was nothing we had to worry about.

We always had a ride (two SUVs a few seconds from the Sinco home compound). We had aircon in our room. We had clean, made, comfortable beds. We had people in different places (anytime we talked about going somewhere, the conversation turned to "Which driver can we get to get you guys there?" and "Who do we know there?")

We always had food -- breakfast and dinner were full-spread affairs, served like clockwork. For breakfast, scrambled eggs, corned beef, bacon, endless buns, coffee, the works (and they even hooked up Logan with bagels and cream cheese for good measure). Dinner was a variety, from Chicken Curry on our first night to Panchit (traditional Filipino noodle dish kind of like Pad Thai) on our last. After every meal, we got mango, fresh off the farm mango. Best I've ever had.

And we had maids. In a lot of ways, maybe this made life almost too comfortable, since we had to get used to the concept of two live-in, working-student maids who helped us out. Obviously not an American custom, but a pretty sincerely Filipino one, Abby and Nar took care of everything for us, made our dinner and brought us our food, got us shampoo and soap, made sure our laundry was done and folded, woke us up in the morning, filled our water in our room when we left. It was bizarre at first, but you get accustomed to it fairly quickly.

And there was 'The Bell.' This was Lola's bell at the dining table, which probably got used about 6-12 times a meal, depending on stuff that went lacking. She would shake the bell and one of the girls would come in and take care of business. Again, not exactly an American custom, but after a few days, it became pretty much status quo to see. I forgot to get a good picture of Lola (or the bell), but there she is in the background (that's Chris smiling in the foreground) at the Sinco family farm and the accompanying bamboo lakehouse...

Anyways, for 8 days and about 15 meals, those comforts were our life --- great food, genuine people taking care of things for you, just overall ease, very little stress --- and life was good.

THINGS TO DO IN DUMA WHEN YOU'RE DEAD : First and foremost, Dumaguete is a college town. Granted, this still means by Filipino standards -- picture Ann Arbor or Bloomington, except with a few more shanties, a burning trash pile around every corner (the smell is awful) and replace taxis/cars with an endless stream of tricycles.

Since it's not enormous (small overall land with about 100k population), I think Chris was a little worried that we wouldn't have much to do there (which he made clear about an hour into hanging out at FU, saying "there is pretty much nothing to do here.")

But literally every day, we did something totally different, unique and fun. I'll describe every day a little bit, which ranged from (in chronological order): basketball, going to the farm/watching FU-Silliman scrimmage, indoor soccer tournament/waterfall, scuba diving, two-day trip to Bohol Island and adventure park, cave exploration. And last but not least, COCKFIGHTING. No joke. Anyways, I'll get to that shortly.

DAY 1 (Basketball):
Our first day there, me and Chris picked up Logan from the Duma Airport at around 4pm. By 7pm, we had gotten the full tour of the FU Campus (there were two parts, a main college campus and across the street, a high school/lower grades campus).

Dean (Chris' dad) took us to the HS campus where the gym/basketball court was to show us the kettlebells class they made the FU athletes do at night. Essentially its an hour long, intense workout using a tiny but extremely heavy steel ball with a handle and swinging it around for an hour. According to dean, the KGB or some Russian spies used it to train --- he was really into it.

Anyways on the walk over, we checked out the basketball court, where the FU team was practicing. Dean immediately mentioned that we could scrimmage with them if we wanted. Me and Logan hesitated, I don't think either of us wanted to step on anyone's toes (and playing against a bunch of 18- and 19-year old kids is the last thing I should do with my back, not to mention Logan had just arrived from 30 straight hours of traveling from Israel), but Dean walked over and had a chat with the head coach Cortes and after a few minutes, told us we'd be scrimmaging in 30 minutes. I thought, in Matthew McCoughney voice, "Well, alright."

By 8pm, me and Logan, with John, Neal and Arondoger were playing 5-on-5 against the next best five FU players (Cortes kicked two kids out of the game so we could play). It was pretty surreal, Logan had been in town for about 4 hours and here we were going at it, not to mention even at 8pm, it was still like 90-something degrees with insane humidity, so after about 10 minutes, adrenaline wears off and your lungs feel like that of the Marlboro man.

The FU guys weren't half bad and the opposing team ran NBA style plays (which was a little ridiculous and became a frequent complaint of Dean's, who is the de facto athletic director at FU, as well) and had some good skills, but maybe not quite as good basketball instincts as us Americans. But rather than get into a X-and-O's discussion of the game and sound like a dumb, bragging American dude, I'll just say that our side won by plenty (American 1, Philippines 0). But more importantly, we could both check off the "played basketball against a Filipino College team" off of our Bucket List. Done and done.

DAY 2 (Going to the farm/scrimmage):
In addition to being the President of FU, Lola and the Sinco family also have a number of farms located about 40 minutes north of Dumaguete. We got the full tour on the afternoon in our second day, but it's probably easiest just to describe it with pictures, so I'll lead off the next post with that.

(For the record, that's Logan in the picture above, at the farm showing off his Star of David necklace to the pigs to tell them he comes in peace. The pigs definitely appreciated the sympathy, especially since Filipinos are down with pork, which I'll get to later...)

QUICK UPDATE: It's, um, 8pm in Manila and it's just like home. There is a Santa Monica Street (I'm wearing my 5th grade SM basketball jersey from Franklin, which is getting some recognition from locals), a Pacific Palisades Condominums and... really, those are about the only similarities to home (wait, I just came up with two more: the traffic here is horrendous, way way worse than LA and everyone looks generally unhappy, kinda like LA, too).

We're staying in Malate, super over-crowded, polluted, tourist-scamming part of Manila. Really just filthy. After living in the lap of luxury, big culture shock (though our Malate Pensione hostel is really clean, tidy and friendly, so a little saving grace).

But the area is super seedy. I mean, we walked around looking for our Sharwma restaurant for an hour and we offered a combo-pack of Viagra and Cialis 6 TIMES!!! Really?? What do I need that crap for? We were probably offered cigarettes and girls 20-something times. A girl with a baby in her arms poked me and told me I was handsome. I walked away as quickly as I could. It was distressing.

Anyways, we're sitting down now in the sanctuary of this Sharwma place (finally found it) with free internet and aircon and they take credit cards, so we're probably just gonna live it up with hummus and sharwma to the max. Anything to stay away from the propositions of Manila. Check back in an hour or two....