On the Road Across Mindanao

Normally I’m not a city person. I come in by necessity, and then I’m out as soon as possible to seek the peace, quite and beauty of the natural realm and to escape the noise pollution and overcrowding of the manmade one. But they have a saying in Davao, that if you try the local durian fruit, you will always come back. I decide to stick around for a few days, but not because of the fruit, which was oddly delicious and nauseating at the same time, but because I have a few friends in the area who I’d like to meet up with. I end up not meeting them at all, but while I’m waiting I get to check out the Philippine Eagle Center and the smallish island of Samal, which is a short ferry ride from Davao City, and a nice place to snorkel with impressive soft corals and the most leaf fish I’ve seen anywhere I’ve been. I’m also impressed with the overall cleanliness and friendliness of Davao, especially compared with Manila, which is the closest thing to hell on earth that I’ve experienced.

But as nice as the people in Davao are, I get tired of the hardware district where I’m staying, which smells of dried fish oddly enough, and I’m ready to check out the famous surfing island of Siargao, which lies to the north of Mindanao. So I catch an early morning jeepney to the bus terminal, and hop on a bus headed for Surigao, the so-called gateway to Mindanao. I mistakenly take a non-direct bus, which ends up stopping at every terminal in every small town on the way, as well as along the road for anyone who wants a ride. Physically it’s a very uncomfortable ride; no a.c., passengers crammed three by three into the seats big enough for one person of my size, and bad ‘80s music playing loudly and repeatedly. But it’s a good way to see and experience this huge island, as we motor more or less straight across the interior, bound for the northern tip.

As I’m suffering I take in all sights of Mindanao, which are the usual sights from most of the big islands in this country. It’s coconut trees, rice fields, distant mountains, nipa huts, tin-roof shacks, chickens and dogs, men playing basketball, wide and shallow rivers with big rocks and little pools with women doing laundry and people bathing, cars passing busses, busses passing trucks, motorbikes passing everything, tricycles overloaded with people, produce or wood, children everywhere. This being Mindanao though, there are frequent checkpoints, but we are never stopped, and they end up being sort of a slalom course for the driver. There are many military police about, on the side of the road, usually eating, sometimes sleeping, talking, laughing, always holding big guns. Usually when they see me they smile and wave, as do most of the people, especially the children, who are everywhere.

It’s beautiful country, green and lush. Everywhere there’s fields of rice, bananas, corn, pineapples, fruit trees. It’s all easy to grow, although the work can be hard for sure, especially in the rice fields. To be sure there are poor people everywhere I go in this country, but in the countryside, it seems like it’s easier, happier even. There the people are laid-back, relaxing, smiling. Whenever we pass through a small town, everyone’s hustling to sell something; a ride, bottled water, peanuts, pork rinds, roasted corn, cell phone minutes, fruit juice, dried bananas…anything. And so, without wanting to, I end up pitying the people in the city and identifying with the people in the country. Perhaps I do the same thing at home?

It’s a long, long dusty ride, but I enjoy watching the countryside go by and the different people who get on and off of the bus, endlessly. We pass through some striking scenery, some still forested mountains, a huge lake. There’s not enough passengers going to Surigao so I have to get off in a smaller town about two hours away, and a man from the bus pays my fare in a small van to my destination. We reach the terminal there and I jump on the back of a jeepney to ride through the dusty and noisy streets of Surigao, which seems to be full, overflowing, with tricycles. I’m too tired and dirty to wander around looking for a good, cheap hotel, so I settle for a good one, overextend my budget a little ($22 per night), take a heavenly hot shower and wander back outside. I skip straight past the hotel restaurant and find a road-side food stand, where I eat rice and longaniza (spicy sausage) for a dollar, then wander over to the boulevard, which runs along the northern coast. I wander around, turn down a few offers for karaoke, drink a few san miguels as I gaze longingly off into the distance, where I know my island destination lies. I stumble back to my room, and easily doze off, dreaming of perfect waves….cloud nine.