moving to an island…
January 8, 2012
Jem and I arrived in Virac, Catanduanes early in the morning but not before a pretty arduous journey. After getting a couple of hours of sleep from our travels the day before, his father drove us from Naga City to the port of Tabaco at about 12:30am. It would have been a treacherous drive had I been the one driving. Jem’s father knows the roads well and is experienced driving in heavy rains (without the aide of street lights at that!). It was pitch black out, which is why we actually did manage to get lost, in spite of our driver’s excellent navigational skills.
We made it to the port just before 4am. I was stressed and anxious, trying my best to recite Philippians 4:6-7. Though I’ve taken the ferry once before, bringing a car onboard was a whole other ball game. After falling into numerous lines filled with crowds of people furiously pushing each other to purchase tickets to the last boat departing before the world sank into the ocean, I finally found someone who gave us proper directions. An hour later, several cash exchanges and numerous forms to fill out, we finally parked my vehicle in front of the gate.
The rain poured harder and I was still stressed out because the guards were letting in other vehicles before mine. What if I didn’t get my car onboard? Then came the onslaught of passengers loading the boat. Chaos I tell you. I was a squeaky wheel, annoying the crud out of the dock supervisor but it paid off and I finally drove my car onto the ship…slipping and sliding. The waves decided that they were angry and pounded the boat, making for a nerve-racking experience.
After paying about 35 bucks for my boarding pass and the car fee, we pushed our way through the multitudes and into the air-conditioned section of the ferry. It cost about $1.50 more but meant the difference between being sandwiched among scores of seasick passengers and having your own cushioned bench to sprawl yourself on and fall asleep. Kind of like sitting in first class on a plane…it separated those who had means from those just getting by. But trust me, first class accommodations it was not! To be honest, for the average islander, $1.50 can feed a family of four so why would they frivolously spend money for comfort. I felt a bit guilty at first, but I admit, my seasickness got the best of me and I quickly turned to survival mode and cherished the above average accommodations.
Normally, it would take 3 and half hours to get to Virac from Tabaco. Due to the crummy weather and tumultuous waves it took us over 5 hours. Barf! Seriously, the waves were so high everyone was throwing up.
I was asleep and failed to hear the announcement that all drivers had to be in the loading bay 15 minutes before arrival. With the vehicles in the way, the passengers can’t get out. So there I was, stuck at the very top level of the ferry. My car was three levels down and there were hundreds of people in my way…none of whom had the opportunity to get out because my car was literally the front vehicle blocking the way of everyone and everything!
The announcer came on again, this time mad as a dog demanding that, “the driver of the Toyota Carollo must move his car!” Jem snaked his way through first with my car keys. He’s half my size and didn’t have the massive backpack I was carrying. But he didn’t know how to drive! So everyone waited as I pushed my way through. People were angry, calling me “baldy, stupid and annoying” wondering why I didn’t follow directions. It was a cultural experience I never want to go through ever again.
After finally getting into my vehicle, the crew directed my movement off the ship. The bus in front of me was fishtailing because of the wet floors. So was mine, so the crew laid out some rope for my car to grab traction on. I couldn’t understand their language…quite different from Tagalog. But I could understand their tone of voice screaming, “Go forward, turn your wheel like this, stop…you’re going to get us killed!” The waves forcing the plank to go up and down like a roller coaster was terrifying. But I finally got off the ship.
After bottoming out, scraping my muffler in front of a large crowd and enduring their chuckling and heckling (directed toward the obvious out-of-towner), I sped my way down a one-way street, going the wrong way. I was so frustrated that I almost jumped for joy after seeing the brand new addition to the island: a Jolibee restaurant…the restaurant I loathe the most in the entire world…but a restaurant to find refuge in.
My first day on the island.
