Mt. Kanlaon Summit Trek - Day 3

The night before I'd hung my socks on a branch in the hope that the weather would remain fine throughout the night and they might dry out a bit.  Not a chance.  Early morning I was awoken by the pit, pit, pat of rain falling on the tent, as well as the snoring and wheezing from Rutger the Leprechaun.  As usual I was awake early and lay there wondering what time everyone else was going to get ready.

Outside of the tent the whole mountain top was enveloped in cloud so a quick trek to the cone and the highest point wasn't going to happen.  A disappointment not to be able to go to the peak but with the rain making everything feel quite wretched there didn't seem any point. 

I recovered my boots from under my rain coat and of course, they were still wet.  My socks were dripping wet and I couldn't decide whether to put them back on again or leave them off.  There didn't seem to be much point in putting them back on again so the were stowed away under the rain cover on my rucksack.  I'd left my rucksack hanging off of a branch with the rain cover pulled over it but this only really protects the outside of it and so it was also pretty much soaked through too.

Breakfast was cheese and onion sandwiches made with stale bread.  Jochen was very proud of his home-made bread baked in a wood fired oven but it didn't stay fresh for too long.

Waiting to Catch Me Slipping Over

Back into my wet clothes we then headed off down the mountain.  Visibility was only 50 yards or so but by the time we left it had at least stopped raining, although it was difficult to stay dry when all the surrounding vegetation was soaking wet.  The terrain going down was completely different to that going up in that it was grassland rather than forest.  This made it easier to traverse except the trail was muddy and very, very slippery.  All of us seemed to spend a fair proportion of our time sliding downhill on our backsides.  The Leprechaun seemed to delight in this and would wait for those up ahead to slip over, and then after having identified the really slippery bits would wait in ambush with his video camera to capture those behind befalling the same fate.  

Wet, Dirty, Scratched and Tired - But Still Smiling

As we started down the grass was only knee high but the further we went the longer it became until it was over 6 feet tall.  In places there had been brush fires and slipping over meant getting covered in a thick, black, sticky soot.  Trying to hold onto the grass to stop yourself from falling wasn't such a good idea either as it was like grabbing razors that sliced your hands open and it was full of hidden brambles and thorns.  My legs were cut and grazed - no wonder everyone else was wearing long trousers.

Cuts and Grazes

Halfway down we stopped in a dried up river bed for a rest and to be eaten alive by huge mosquitoes.  Pulling off my sodden boots to remove the grit and stones I realised it was a mistake not to wear socks - the big toe on my right foot had an enormous blister on it and the left one was developing one too.  Jochen was kind enough to lend (gave) me a pair of dry socks, which helped enormously.

Blister on my Big Toe

In some ways, coming down is harder than going up.  On the way up you alternate between pushing off on one leg and then the other but going down both legs are under constant exertion.  By the time we coming to the end, walking through farmland and out of the grasslands, I was hobbling a fair bit from my blisters and now thoroughly exhausted legs.  Within the last 500 yards the elastic on my underpants gave out and I finished the trek in a rather undignified fashion with my pants dangling around the legs and crotch of my shorts.

Rice Farms on Kanlaon's Slopes

A short 10 minute video of the trek can be viewed by clicking on this link: Kanlaon Trek

We were met by the lads on the scooters and taken back to the guest house.  I slumped in a plastic chair and guzzled on a bottle of San Miguel.  Without doubt, when you feel like you've earned a beer it certainly tastes good - and this tasted divine.  So I had 3 more and they didn't bother going to my stomach, they just went straight to my head!

Kanlaon Lush Waterfall

As we were all having a celebration beer a local bus came down the road, full to the gunnels with people and baggage.   Jochen stood on the side of the road flagging it down but I reckoned there was no way it was going to stop to pick up more passengers.  But of course I was wrong.  Still holding their beers, and with standing room only, we said goodbye and off they went.

In summary then, it was a great trip, although somewhat disappointed that we didn't actually make it to the very highest point and that the weather was so grim.  I'm not sure it offered good value for money though.  Php 9,000 (£135) for one night in a cheap guest house and some rice and noodles (and a free pair of socks) seem rather expensive, even taking into consideration the guide and rental of tents, but even more so when you consider we had to carry all the kit ourselves.

Whilst on the mountain I swore that I'd never do this again.  I was adamant.  I'd decided that all I was going to do in the future was take up golf.  Stamp collecting.  Needle work.  But within a very short time after finishing I was thinking that it wasn't so bad.  Despite all the pain and suffering the rewards are immense and it's not the physical challenge that I enjoy, it's the mental ones.  The need to keep going when your body's telling you you should stop.  Having to ignore the cuts and grazes, the blisters and aching legs.  It's not like a bus ride: you can't just get off when you want.  Once you're there, you have to see it through.  There's also the thrill of doing something edgy and dangerous.  There are plenty of precarious ledges and walkways where a slip might send you tumbling down the mountain but without these the trip, and life in general, would be pretty dull.  Wouldn't it?

Plot of the Route Taken (Google Earth)

The Start Point is to the Right

Mt. Kanlaon Summit Trek - Day 2

I was told by Oberfuhrer Jochen (pronounced Yokken, not Jo-chen as I had been calling him) that breakfast would be at 4:30am and we'd head off at 5:00am to start climbing.  He asked me if I wanted a knock to wake me up but I was sure I'd be ok.

In fact I was more than ok.  I seem to be able to survive on only 5 to 6 hours of sleep these days so going to bed at 9:00pm meant I'd be awake at 3:00am.  But I wasn't.  With the need to wake up early on my mind I was awake at 10:00pm, then 11:00pm and every hour until by 3:00am where I found myself laying on the bed wondering what to do next.  I was up at 3:45am, showered, packed my bag (again - minus the heavy camera) and was ready for breakfast at 4:15am.  But there was no sign of life in the restaurant and the lights were off so I went back to my room to spend more time staring at the ceiling.  4:30am there was still no sign of life.  5:00am still no sign of life.  Another bad sign.

It was nearly daylight when they surfaced and by the time breakfast was over, it was 6:30am.

Early Morning Kanlan

Outside there was a collection of lads on scooters who had been chartered to take us to the drop off point for the hike.  There were seven of us, plus the rucksacks, and only 4 scooters.  It didn't seem possible that there was enough transport to take all of us and the kit but this is the Philippines, where a scooter is completely multi-tasking.  Carry 3 people is not normal.  Carry 4 is usual.  5 on a scooter is a squeeze and 6 does happen from time to time.  Seeing kiddies that can barely walk standing at the handlebars whilst dad drives with mum, brothers and sisters squeezed on behind takes some getting used to, especially when mum might also be holding a baby too.  It's all perfectly normal here and health and safety doesn't get a look in.  I have to say, accidents seem remarkably rare but it's unusual to see fast or reckless driving.  Everyone seems to take their time and is very forgiving.  My driver once casually turned left in front of a scooter with a pillion passenger that was travelling at speed .  The driver of the scooter had to jam on the brakes and skidded to a broadside halt just inches away from our vehicle.  I was sure there was going to be some road rage or some pretty heated remonstrations but do you know what?  My driver never even batted and eyelid.  More surprisingly, the driver and passenger of the scooter, having nearly been splattered like a fly on a windscreen just laughed and joked as the driver tried to kick-start his stalled scooter.  Work that one out, if you can.  I can't.

The rucksacks were jammed between the handlebars and with 3 to a scooter we were off, easily, if not very comfortably, accommodated on the 4 scooters.

Scooter Transportation

The 20 minute journey took us through Kanlaon City, turning off at a small side turning and headed up an unpaved track to the drop off point where the trek would begin.  Jochen turned up with a bundle of 4 litre white plastic containers.  When I asked what they were for he told me for carrying water.  I asked him who or where were the porters to carry them and he just laughed . . .

Off we started, walking along a worn out single line path through farmland, not too steep to begin with but becoming steeper as we went along.  Even with my rucksack that had had a tent added to it and ground mats I still felt reasonably good and confident.  However, after an hour of trekking we stopped at a small holding on a hillside with wonderful views of the surrounding farmland and hills.  But we hadn't stopped to take in the view: we'd stopped to take on water and fill up the plastic containers.  I stood back but quickly realised that all of us were expected to carry at least two of these containers (except the Polish Photographer - either because she's a girl or because she was clever enough to have a CamelBak water carrier).  Super Mario tied two of the jugs to the eyes on the lapels of my rucksack and my heart sank, as well as my legs under the weight.  I reckoned I was now carrying at least 20 kilos.  I'd read and always understood that with a good rucksack and good practise is for the weight to be carried on your hips, not the shoulder straps but with 8 to 10kgs of water hanging off the lapels this went out the window.  To make matters worse, it made you top heavy and more difficult to maintain your balance on slippery ground, and when having to duck down or crawl under branches the weight pulling you forward made it all the more difficult.

View On The Way Up

Soon we were into thick forest and it was a steep march up.  For a moment I felt as though I wanted to turn around and go back but I couldn't quit.  Super Mario and Jochen offered to take the water off of me but pride wouldn't allow that to happen either.  So long as they were OK with me maintaining my snail's pace, I'd plod along like the proverbial (hare and the) tortoise.  As we climbed I thought that the trees would give way to open grassland as we crossed the tree line but on the route we were taking it was trees right up the the crater's rim.

Grabbing a Quick Rest on the Crater Rim

Just after midday we emerged from the forest into a opening just below the rim.  The rest of the crew had arrived before me but said they'd peered over the rim and there was nothing to see as everything was enveloped in thick cloud.  However, as if by divine intervention, just as I arrived the clouds parted and we scrambled up to the rim to take in the view.  The most surprising thing I found was how easy it was to do without that wretched rucksack on my back!  Mt. Kanlaon consists of a large, elongated oval caldera that is no longer active to the north, and an active cone at the southern end so that in plan it looks like a fat exclamation mark.  There is little difference in height between the two crater at their highest points, with the active cone being approximately only 200ft higher.  We were stood at the far southern end of the old caldera looking towards the active cone.  Very soon the clouds rolled back in again and we were in a white out with limited visibility.  A decision had to be made whether to camp there for the night and head for the cone the next day, or whether to push on and camp overnight near the cone.  As it was relatively early, it was decided to push on.

The Dormant Caldera With The Active Cone At The Far End

This was the worst part of the trek.  Despite going down rather than up it was thick forest with a barely a discernible route to follow.  I would have struggled to get through it without a rucksack but with a largish one and the water to carry it was an ordeal.  I have to admit that at a point it took the edge of my good humour and it became rather wearisome as brambles tore at my legs and arms, I constantly banged my shins on low branches and roots and consistently became snagged and hooked up.  It took all my willpower not to just try to muscle through it as this would undoubtedly damage my kit, if not myself.

By the time we reached the area to set up camp I was exhausted.  Jochen and Super Mario started unpacking the camping gear and food and the others were lighting a fire that just seem to choke everyone in smoke.  The Leprechaun was attempting to dry his socks over the smoke . . . I mean fire . . . and he was holding them so close that I was sure they'd burst into flames at any moment.  And they stunk.

The Active Cone and Highest Point

It was decided that the fire would be better placed away from the tents so that we didn't all die of smoke inhalation.  In the meantime there was a debate forming regarding the best place to site the big tent and Jochen was convinced that up by the crater out of the woods would be the best place to house me, the Leprechaun and Rutger Hauer.  Jochen was getting all emotional because no one was prepared to listen to his suggestion so to humour him I said I'd go and look at the suggested location.  It was on a ridge in a slight depression that had clearly been used by other campers as a latrine and that was likely to become a small pond in the night if it rained, not to mention that it was EXTREMELY exposed insofar as if the wind got up in the night we'd all end up a the bottom of the crater.  So I said no, it wasn't a good location.  This in itself wasn't such a bad thing but in order to go and have a look at it we'd had to walk through some very long, sopping wet grass.  Up until this point I'd managed to keep my feet relatively dry but now I was in danger of developing trench foot, just to compound my misery.  And by the time we'd viewed the proposed alternative site and got back the others had finished setting up the tents in the forest anyway.

As dusk came the dinner was prepared and consisted of chopped vegetables, instant curry noodles, rice and tinned sardines, opened and warmed in the tin by placing them in the ashes of the smoky fire started earlier.  It must have been because I was chilly, tired and a tad miserable with my feet sopping wet that it was easily some of the best food I've ever tasted.  More so as the wretched water we'd carried was being used up to boil the rice and cook the noodles.  Once I'd had something to eat and warmed myself by the relocated fire that had developed into a raging inferno that you could have made horseshoes on it, I was feeling much better.  Next it was tea time.  A further disagreement was brewing (not unlike the tea) regarding the best tea bags.   The Leprechaun had brought some "quality" tea bags from Ireland and Jochen supplied local Lipton's Yellow Label teabags bought locally.  In order to assess the qualities of the tea in question, relays of large saucepans of water were boiled up into which was added the tea, along with large amounts of sugar, copious amounts of fresh lime juice and the secret ingredient: a large (in some cases very large) shot of local Tanduay Rum.  Again, and regardless of whether it was the tea from Ireland or the Lipton's, it was heavenly and between 6 of us we managed to get through 4 bottles of rum in 4 servings of steaming hot tea each.

It must have been 8:00pm when we turned in for the night.  The weather had calmed and it was relatively warm.  I awoke at around 11:00pm in a bit of panic.  I couldn't sleep and felt as though I couldn't breathe - which is symptomatic of thin air at high altitude.  I've never been claustrophobic but in the absolute darkness and with hardly enough room to move around in the tent I had a overwhelming urge to get out into the fresh air.  This wasn't practical as I'd have to climb over the Leprechaun and Rutger and then try to find my boots in the dark whilst wandering around barefoot in the forest.  So I just sat up, collected and calmed my myself, pulled my jacket off and used it as a pillow and went back to sleep to the sounds of Rutger grunting and the Leprechaun wheezing.  Outside, there was something really wrong in one of the other tents: one one of the occupants needed to see a breathing specialist and the other needed to see a hearing specialist.  I was in the tent across the way with earplugs in and the snoring was keeping me awake.

Mt. Kanlaon Summit Trek - Day 1

Did I say climbing Mt. Kanlaon should be easier than Mt. Kinabalu or Mt. Rinjani because it isn't as high?  Yes I did. And I was wrong.  Despite being nearly 5,500 ft lower than Mt. Kinabalu,  Mt. Kanlaon presents its own unique challenges and conditions that still make it a tough climb.

There are principally two reasons for this: firstly, you have to carry all your own water for drinking and cooking.  For the time involved this a not an insignificant amount and therefore it's a considerable weight to lug up a mountain. On Kinabalu there is a lodge just below the summit where you can rest overnight before making the ascent to the peak, and it is a place where you can sleep, eat, drink and even buy souvenirs.  It's kept supplied by locals who are paid by the kilo to lug everything up the mountain to keep the place well stocked for soft westerners like myself.  As you climb up you're frequently overtaken by locals with tree-trunk thick legs carrying crates of water, packs of food or other supplies, including materials for building repairs and maintenance.  On one occasion I saw a guy carrying a refrigerator strapped to his back and he had the thickest legs I've ever seen.  As a consequence, when climbing Mt. Kinabalu all you have to carry is a camera, raincoat and a Mars Bar.  It was the same for climbing Rinjani: whilst there was no lodge, a team of porters was employed to carry all your water, food, camping equipment and even the portable chemical toilet up, down and around the mountain.  And they do it wearing flip-flops.

For Mt. Kanlaon I was told by the organiser of the trek that it was not possible to find local porters who were willing to carry kit or equipment for financial remuneration.  This either says a great deal about how much the organiser was willing to pay and/or something about Filipino characteristics.

The second key factor was the route, which on Kanlaon is largely through thickly wooded areas, so for a largish person (such as myself), carrying a bulky rucksack, it makes for tough going as you are frequently having to climb over or crawl under fallen branches and trees.  In the really dense forest you are constantly becoming snagged and tangled on trees, branches, vines and brambles.  It really is energy sapping and soul destroying.

We left Iloilo on the 19th March to travel to Kanlaon City on the south-western side of Mt. Kanlaon.  The day started off well with bright clear weather and no cancellations or delays to the ferry from Dumangus to Bacolod.  Despite sitting in the shade on the top deck of the ferry, I still managed to get my face, arms and legs rather sunburnt, probably from reflected sunlight off of the decks and sea.

Hiding from the Sun

So clear was the weather that right from leaving Dumangas we could see the the outline of Mt. Kanlaon nearly 40 miles in the distance.

Kanlaon from the Ferry

On arriving at Bacolod we had lunch and then headed for Kanlaon City.  We made the most of the clear weather by stopping frequently to photograph the scenery.  We arrived at the Midway Traveler's Inn at around 5:00pm where my driver dropped me off and then went to visit his folks in Dumaguete.  I had arrived ahead of the others who were on the tour and who were travelling from Cebu, so I checked in (very informal) and was shown my room.  It was very basic but reasonably clean, despite the hoards of ants forming moving black lines over the bathroom walls.  There was however, hot water in the shower, complete with the usual exposed electrical wiring joined with electrical tape. The room also had an aircon, albeit a rather asthmatic, wheezing air-con.  I dropped my rucksack off and unpacked it to review again what I would and wouldn't be carrying with me up the mountain.  There really didn't seem much scope for leaving anything behind, except my rather bulky and heavy medium format camera that I really, really wanted to use.  I left everything unpacked and decided to give it more thought and went and sat outside and waited for the others to arrive. 

As I sat on the road side I watched the sun setting and the world go by, which seemed to be almost exclusively noisy scooters whizzing past with the riders and passengers yelling "Hey Joe!"

Sun Setting Behind Mt. Kanlaon

The others arrived before sundown.  I'd expected them to turn up in a mini bus emblazoned with PLANET ACTION! painted down the side with some fancy artwork depicting all manner of activities on offer: white water rafting, para-sailing, mountain climbing, river climbing, scuba diving.  But no, they arrived crammed into a local mini bus with their bags tied with string to the roof and the rear tyres almost touching the wheel arches. Not a good sign, I thought.

The occupants of the bus spilled out onto the roadside and we informally introduced ourselves.   The group consisted of a varied mix of nationalities:

• English - me of course; 
• German - the organiser who had lived in the Philippines for the past 20 years (again, not a good sign).
• Irish - an expat since 1996 who had worked as a deck hand on sailing charters and was now working as a dive instructor.  Referred to as the Leprechaun.  
• Finnish - a Rutger Hauer lookalike barman who split his time working between Sweden (yes, Sweden, not Finland) and the Philippines.  Sounded a bit suspect to me.
• Polish - working in London (where else?!) as an accountant, and her partner;
• Nepalese - working for KFC (not in the "do you want fries to go with that" capacity but more the executive side of KFC).
• Filipino - Super Mario was the coolest guy there and our guide.  He know how to cook, camp and trek.  If we were in a survival situation, Mario was going to be my best friend!

All younger than me and all clearly much fitter too - although that's not difficult.

After the bags were dropped off we all walked into town.  There was a fiesta at the time so the place was buzzing with activity.  We stopped for a local coffee that looked, and tasted, like tar and shopped for mangoes before heading back to the Midway for dinner.

Dinner was dominated by two Long Tailed Macaque monkeys in a cage in the restaurant.  Indignant at not being invited to the table the more dominant one of the two rattled the cage, shook the branch inside and bashed away at the building's aluminium eaves that made a deafening noise.  Dinner was of a typical Philippine fare.  Fried fish, chicken, vegetables and incinerated pork chops.  No real food frights here.

After dinner it was off to bed for an early night.  Well at least I was off to bed.  Because of the fiesta the guest house was fully booked (apart from the room I'd blagged) and so the rest of the group had to sleep in the tents on the floor of the restaurant.  Again, not a good sign regarding pre-planning and organisation, I thought.  I did for a moment consider offering up my relatively comfy room to the only female in the group but rather unchivalrously I convinced myself that being the oldest in the group, my need was greater.

Filipino Food Frights #2 - Extra Protein

Chicken-on-a-stick with plain white rice is my staple lunchtime meal.  At least here in Iloilo the chicken comes with a bit if meat on it, rather than the thin, emaciated excuse for chicken that I'd get in Toledo.

However, I was aware that a diet of chicken and rice is somewhat lacking in vegetable content so recently I had a chop suey with it, consisting of carrots, cabbage, green beans, cauliflower and maggots.  Or was it caterpillars?  You know I just can't be sure, it's rather like trying to distinguish the difference between pak -choi and spinach.

Where the big difference lies is that a caterpillar lives on vegetation.  A maggot lives on rotting flesh, which gives me serious reservations about the freshness of the chicken.

Here's a couple of photos so see if you can decide if it's maggot or caterpillar and cast your votes on the right of the page.

Extra Protein (Circled)

. . . . And Close Up

Hard Men and Hard Sell

A 20 mile cycle ride on Saturday afternoon was done as part of my preparation for the volcano climb. Nothing too challenging as the area surrounding Iloilo is mostly flat and the mountains are far enough away not to make it worthwhile driving there.  It was incredibly hot and despite constantly drinking water during the ride, I was still very dehydrated at the end of it.  My body really does not cope well with the heat.

I broke the news to my driver that I would be trekking up Mt. Kanlaon this Friday and gave him prior warning of the travel arrangements.  He seems shocked and disappointed that I'm spending so much on the trek but he said he would organise it back in May last year and my patience has run out. Besides, whilst it may seem like a great deal of money to him, £130 for the food, accommodation, camping gear, porters and guides over 2 1/2 days seems reasonable enough to me.  And it's being organised by a bona-fide tour company run by Europeans (Planet Action) so I'm confident it will be properly and safely done.

The only things I have to arrange is walking boots, and I'm torn between buying new ones (if I can find any) or wearing my Cat boots, which I wore for the Mt. Kinabalu trek and which were OK .  I need to also buy a head torch for the early hours climb in darkness to the peak and a sleeping bag.  Apparently, I can get by without the sleeping bag as the tour company will provide blankets if necessary.  I may need a jacket as well to stave off the chilly climate at altitude.

Last weekend was all about one thing and one thing only:  the Filipino boxer Manny Pacquiao.  Sunday was the day of his fight with the Ghanaian Joshua Clotty.  It's hard to overstate the popularity of Manny Pacquiao here in the Philippines, and it's a popularity well deserved:  he is an exceptional, exciting boxer, having won an unprecedented 7 different titles in different weight divisions and is considered the best pound-for-pound fighter around today.  In addition, he comes across as very, very nice guy, despite his chosen field of work, and has an endearing smile that stretches from ear to ear.   When he fights the whole of the Philippines comes to a stand still.  Everyone who can watch, will watch the fight.  The streets are deserted.  I swear even the dogs stop barking.

My intention was to watch the fight on pay-per-view so I contacted the owner of the house I'm renting.  Here is a transcript of the exchange of text messages:

Me:

Brenda - I've tried sending you several messages to your new number but no response. Is it possible to get pay per view for the Pacquiao fight this Sunday please?

Brenda:

ok I'll try and will txt u. this is my other cp no.

Brenda:

Mr. Mcgiffin - smct cinema, Pacquiao Clottey, fight P500;  Robinson cinema - P450

Me:

Is it not possible to see the fight on the TV in the house?

Brenda:

Yes on channel 7 this coming sunday. only its a little delayed telecast

Me:

Is it not possible to get it live?

Brenda:

no live telecast on tv.

Me:

on cable. . . . ? Pay per view??

Brenda:

Ok i'll call SKY cable about the pay per view of Pacquiao fight.

Me:

Thanks

I didn't hear anything until I went back to the house and what happened is the landlord had dumped the responsibility for checking the PPV with the maid.  The maid told me it was sold out.  Sold out? How the hell can PPV be sold out?  It's not like there's a limited number of seat available in people's homes, is there?  Maybe it's a case of  "Sorry No. 5 Acacia Avenue but there's no PPV available at your address as we've sold your sofa seating in front of your telly to the family at No. 7".

So I passed it over to our buyer in our office to make enquires and yes, it was available at a complete rip-off price of Php 1400 (£20), and the cable company said that the transmission would be substandard with noise interference.  Now let me see: the cable company wants the equivalent of weeks wages of one of our workers for a substandard transmission.  No thanks.  I decided to watch the "little delayed transmission".

This turned out to be a monumental mistake as the delay actually turned out to be 4 hours with no clues as to when the fight would actually start.  During the period of guessing as to when the fight would eventually start was absolutely saturation advertising. Over and over and over and over again.  Then, as the fight was about to start it was the Ghanaian national anthem followed by more ads.  Then the Philippine national anthem, followed by more ads.  Then the American national anthem (why the American national anthem, there were no Americans fighting? Perhaps it was for the referee?), followed by even more of the same ads.

By the time the fight started I was losing the will to live and the day felt like it was almost over.  But there was worst to come.

The first round came and went and then in what should have been the minute between the first and second round there were ads that seemed to last an eternity.  So I timed them between the second and third round.  Two minutes of ads?  Not a chance. Three minutes?  Nope.  Four?  Uh, ah. Five. Still not close.  There were NINE minutes of ads.  This wasn't enough time just to put the kettle on or have a pee, you could've had a 4 course meal.  I calculated that if it went the full 12 rounds then it would last two and a quarter hours instead of the 47 minutes it should take.  And the fight wasn't a great one, primarily due to Clottey's game plan being to cover up and survive rather than making a  fight of it.  

I checked the internet and saw that the fight went the distance with Pacquiao winning by a wide margin on points, so I did something far more exciting: I jumped on my bike and went for a ride.

On or Off - Nothing in Between

In the mornings I like to get out of the office and go for a coffee with one of our site supervisors.  It's one of the rare chances I get to actually have a meaningful and enjoyable conversation with someone, and to find out the finer details of what's going on at site.

There's a cafe next to our office that has recently opened and whilst the coffee is the instant-all-in-one-out-of-packet (meaning that you can have it any way you like so long as it's white and sweet), it's more convenient than the sweaty walk to the nearest other coffee shop (a Philippines Starbucks type chain) that does a very respectable iced cafe latte.  

Today we've gone there and we're served by the waitress/waiter - it's difficult to categorise as it's a lady-boy who is still more boy than lady: more like a cage fighter in dress.  Sitting outside it was almost impossible to have a conversation as there's an outside speaker connected to a sound system, and as usual it's playing at full volume.  I politely asked the waiter/waitress if they could possibly turn the volume down a little bit.  

A moment later the music goes off completely.   

Not entirely a bad thing, at least a conversation was then possible.  The cafe's owner comes out and joins us for a quick chat.  He's a cheerful, happy go lucky type who actually talks rather too much but he's affable enough so it's hard not to be accommodating.  As he gets up to leave I tell him, in a light hearted way, that I'd asked his staff to turn the volume down, not off.

A moment later the music comes back on at full volume.

Perhaps there is no volume control, just an on/off switch.  Our table is joined by 3 other Filipinos and they're all shouting at each other to make themselves heard over the din and, incidentally, all speaking at once.  For them, this is normal.  To me, it's hell on earth.

Filipino Food Frights #1

I'm doing some research and I'm looking at a web page entitled London Eating - The Definitive Guide to Eating in London (http://www.london-eating.co.uk/) and the page helpfully provides a drop down menu for all the different types of restaurants that are available.  The list contains 71 types of food, the vast majority of which are linked to the country of source.  Admittedly, there are a few odd ones in there, such as "Pub" or as vague as "Sandwich".  However, the purpose of my research is that I'm looking through the letter F for Filipino.  None.  P for Philippines. Nano.

There's probably a good reason for this and I hope to be able to demonstrate why this is based on my own gastronomical experiences via this blog. This has come about due not to one or two isolated experiences of bad food but a whole raft of dire culinary episodes.

But before I go any further let me explain: I am in no way a fussy eater.  I will eat most things (sea slugs, chicken's feet and any deep fried bugs not withstanding). 

Just to ensure a level playing field and for the benefit of displaying an unbiased approach, here is a list of the Top 10 best foods that the Philippines can offer, courtesy of Howard Hillman's World Cuisine Guide of Philippines Specialities:  My comments are in red

Lechon

Whole pig roasted to the crispy skin stage over coals. Named Lechon de Leche when a suckling pig is used. This specialty is essential for festive parties and celebrations - and has become the national dish, along with Adobo.
Yes, this is very popular and I've tried it many times and it never fails to disappoint.  Tasteless, tough and rarely has good crackling.  Usually prepared under questionable hygiene conditions, especially considering it's pork.

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Adobo

Marinated pork and/or chicken is sauteed, then simmered with the marinade along with garlic, vinegar and soy sauce.
Can't say I've tried it.  Can't say I'm missing it.

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Lumpia Shanghai

Small, thin spring roll with a minced pork stuffing. A popular hors d'ouevre.
Thin because there's usually very little in them.  Usually cold and fatty.

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Pancit Canton

Thin rice noodles stir-fried with tiny shrimp, minced pork and sausage, bite-sized vegetables, what have you. Many pancit versions exist including Pancit Bihon.
Watery with questionable "bits" floating in it.

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Halo Halo

A dessert made with sweetened jackfruit, beans, milk, and crushed ice. Served in a tall glass with a spoon. Name translates "mix-mix".
Even more watery made so by the large amounts of ice.  Sweet.

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Kare Kare

A rich peanut-accented stew made with ox tails. Entrails and vegetables are frequently added.
Entrails?  Enough said.

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Sinigang

A soupy dish made with chicken, pork, seafood, vegetables, you name it. Tarmarind gives Sinigang its essential sour note.
Yes, you name it . . . if you can.

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Suman

Sticky rice wrapped and steamed in a banana or palm leaf.
Not tried it but it sounds good.  You can't screw up steamed rice, can you?

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Dinuguan

A stew of pork and pig innards thickened with fresh pig’s blood.
Innards?  

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Balut

Boiled fertilized duck egg complete with the visible embryo. It's an acquired taste.
Very popular . . . but not with me.  The idea of eating an embryo, with baby feathers and beak is just too horrific to contemplate.  To say it's an "... an acquired taste." is an understatement.

And so onto today's events that really prompted me into action and which was the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak.  The power was off in the office so rather than sweat it out for lunch I went to the SM shopping centre (SM for Super Mall, not Sado-Masochistic, unless of course you're referring to the food).

I thought I give good old Kenny Rogers Roasters (another unfortunate name) a try, thinking that roasted chicken would be a healthy enough choice and with a large picture of white haired, grandfatherly Kenny looking down on the proceedings what could possibly go wrong in his shiny, prestigious food chain.

The point were you order the food is right next to the salad/vegetable serving area, which is behind a large perspex screen so you can see a sour-faced, scowling girl serving up your delicious food right in front of your own eyes.  Being as it was lunchtime there was only one till operational and despite there being only two people in front of me I stood there for 20 minutes waiting to be served.  Now you may think I spent my time idly standing by, patiently awaiting my turn to be served but no, I took a great interest in the sour-faced, scowling girl preparing the meals.  Why?  Well, something caught my eye and it held my fascination because to begin with I was sure I had seen right and then I was transfixed because I couldn't actually believe what I was seeing. 

Initially, I saw small pots of the vegetables being scooped out into the large holding/serving tubs and I thought it an odd thing to do and it prompted my curiosity.  Then I saw it happen for other items and it was the fact that it was the small tubs that the food is served up in that got me thinking: surely, in the name of all that is holy, she wasn't taking the left-over, uneaten food and scooping it back into the main pots for re-serving, was she?  So I continued to watch and confirmation came when she scooped the half eaten food off of a plate back into the servers before dumping the plates in the tray to be washed up.  Admittedly, she left the half of the food that had been mauled and pushed around a bit and only scooped the untouched food back into to the servers, so that's all right then?! Then there was the half eaten chicken.  This wasn't thrown away into a bin of any description but was placed onto a stainless steel rack in a drawer.  My mind boggled as to what this was going to be used for?  Perhaps the chicken sandwiches?

Any one in their right mind would have turned into the Coward of the County and run away but I was so fascinated by this I had to sit down and watch it going on for a bit longer, and possibly and surreptitiously video it on my mobile phone.  

It was my turn to order and despite a rapidly declining appetite I asked for the Classic Healthy Plate and a mango juice. After a minutes deliberation the girl at the till decided there was no mango juice, only mango shake.  "Ok, I'll have the shake".  Another minutes deliberation and consultation with her supervisor and I was told there was no mango shake.  For heavens sake, this is mango central in the height of the mango season and I can't even get a mango drink.  "Ok then, I'll have the iced lemon tea" and I braced myself for the disappointment that that was unavailable too.  So far so good, except that she then told me that the Classic Healthy Plate was not available.  Inside my head I was turning into Gordon Ramsay: "What the **** do you mean there's no Classic Healthy Plate.  It's a piece of ******* chicken and a bit of salad, which I know you've got plenty of cos I've seen you ******* shovelling the ******* leftovers back into the ******* servers".  

"I'll leave it", I said and walked out.  Perhaps it wasn't available because it had been too early to recover the meal from someone else's plate?