Back in the Puerto Princesa Groove.

After almost three weeks of traveling around the Philippines I'm back to my home away from home: Puerto Princesa. And boy am I glad to be back. Traveling has been fun, and I've had some amazing experiences, but it has also been exhausting. For the second time in as many months I woke up today feeling like complete and utter human garbage. At some point between 11:00 pm last night and 9:00 am this morning a virus infiltrated my shitty immune system and began setting up factories, the biggest of which is jammed in my sinus cavity. I'm actually fairly curious as to how I went to sleep feeling perfectly healthy and woke up feeling like a failed genetic experiment (Alright, let's subtract the nose, add a few pounds to the head, and thin out that throat. Ok, stand back). I'm equally curious as to why I keep getting sick in the first place, although I do have a pretty good idea. Besides the fact that my immune system should be renamed the honor system (Now don't you cause trouble again, influenza. I mean it this time buster!), all the cities I've traveled to are completely and totally filthy. I realize this is a developing country; I'm not passing judgment, just stating the facts. The streets aren't exactly paved with gold in St. John's*, but they aren't paved with garbage, dog shit, and the occasional unlucky homeless person either. Touching anything is pretty much an invitation to all sorts of nasty things that are begging to call you home. Even breathing is hazardous. The cities are so congested and polluted that I blew my nose a few days ago and the product was jet black. Being a celebrity isn't all it's cracked up to be either. With my status as 'White Guy' I have to shake a lot of hands and kiss a few babies now and then. This is not conducive to good health. The combination of filth, unfit air, human contact, and an open door policy immune system equals: I'm lucky I'm not dead yet.

Needless to say, I wasn't quite as reflective this morning and mumbled "Fuck sakes" when I couldn't swallow. I didn't have any cold medication so I took some antibiotics I had lying around and two extra strength allergy pills, the drowsy kind. After checking out of the hotel in Cebu City I hopped in a taxi and arrived at the airport where I took a flight back to Puerto Princesa. Just to add to my misery, the change in pressure on our descent into Puerto completely screwed up my ears. Typing this in my room, it sounds like I'm underwater. When I speak I can't hear myself very well, and must go between phases of talking much too soft and much too loud, because I get alternating responses of "What?" and shocked 'No Need to Yell' faces.

All this bullshit aside, it feels really good to be back 'home'. It's so strange how after only a few short months a completely foreign atmosphere becomes yours. I remember arriving here four months ago, stepping into my pink little cell and thinking "Ugh". Today I thought "Ahhhh...home at last". It's amazing how easily I have adopted this building as my home, although it really shouldn't surprise me I suppose. I mean it is my home. These are my four walls; my noisy fan; my cluttered desk; my tiny bed; my pet lizard; and my Meth-Cat**. I've carved out a little niche for myself in this room that's mine and mine alone, and, to tell you the truth, I'll be a little sad to see it go.

Speaking of carving out niches, I really should have really staked some kind of claim on the bathroom across the hall. I arrived home this afternoon to find the bathroom completely filled with toiletries and laundry. There were a bunch of toothbrushes, soaps, and shampoos, a shaving kit, and women's underwear hanging on the miniature clothesline. I later met the man, woman, and baby that are occupying the room next to me. They moved in about 2 weeks ago and, upon not seeing anyone else use the bathroom, moved in. I was talking to the man for a bit today (a big Australian with full body tattoos and a ponytail) and he told me they plan to stay for at least one month. That means I have to get use to having dirty panties in my face whenever I take a seat. I also have to get used to standing on a wet floor whenever I take a piss. Filipinos treat bathrooms (or comfort rooms as they call them) like bathtubs. That is to say, the floor of every bathroom is equipped with a drain, and for good reason. Many towns in the Philippines still do not have running water, so in order to get clean "bucket baths" are taken. Bucket baths are exactly what they sounds like: you squat in a bucket and pour water over yourself while lathering up. Even though most modern buildings have showering facilities, some Filipinos must prefer the bucket bath method. I guess the woman is a firm adherent to the good 'ol days because the bathroom floor was absolutely soaked when I went to use it today. If I had my time back I would've put a toothbrush of my own in there, or maybe one of those sampler's with a cute phrase like "If you dribble when you piddle be a dear and wipe the seat", autographed Matthew Walsh with a picture of me using the bathroom and the caption "I live next door" under it.


Well it's getting late and I'm getting sleepy. I apologize for the lack of any visuals to accompany my recent walls of text. I'll try to spice the next blog entry up with a few pictures. In the meantime you can check out my FaceBook profile. I'll be uploading Christmas vacation pics over the next few days.

Thanks for reading.

* It's common knowledge that roads in St. John's are paved with an Oreo/Elmer's Glue mixture, concocted by the St. John's City Council, in order to save a buck.

** My Meth-Cat in the same sense that this cold is my disease and my problem.