After a month here, I still haven’t quite realised what makes Filipinos tick. Only individual aspects, but they have a massive impact on everything else. The most important characteristic of Filipinos is that they live fully in the here and now. Not yesterday. Not tomorrow. Today. And only there, not a millimetre further.
In the evening I have a beer with the guitarist Ronel. In the morning, he pushes his empty bike to the petrol station. In the evening I see signs announcing draconian penalties for littering. In the morning, you can hardly breathe in the billows of smoke from hundreds of small private rubbish incinerators. In the evening, the Filipinos in the Videoke bars howl cruelly at the moon. In the morning they show that they can actually sing.
The only thing that really shocked me in the last few weeks was a pusher on Alona Beach. “Island hopping tour, sir?”. “Nope, thank you!”. “Tomorrow, sir?”. I stop, turn round and look at the pusher in confusion. The reason for this remains hidden from him.
Filipinos are extremely polite. Always. Even beggars address you as “Sir, got some pesos?”. They have a peculiar language division. Not only are there more than 100 different languages. The main language, Tagalog, also includes parts of English and Spanish. Times and days of the week are generally articulated in English. How could you blame them for preferring to talk about the here and now?
My last day on Panglao. I actually wanted to go diving with the giant tortoises in Balicasag. Even though diving here is more than four times more expensive than on cheaper islands at up to 50 euros per dive. Bohol is different. The only cheap diving centre is missing exactly one diver for the trip today. It is cancelled. I work and then take a jeepney back to the harbour in Tagbilaran.
Filipinos are extremely God-fearing. Wrong. God-fearing. I think this is mainly due to the condition of their vehicles. Many jeepney rear panels are adorned with slogans like “In God we trust.”. This conveys an incredible sense of security when the twin jeepney tyres on the right suddenly come hurtling towards you like a halo – and opens up undreamt-of possibilities for spiritual contemplation.
In the jeepney. In the here and now. It seems inappropriate to describe the load level in terms of passenger numbers. Per cent by volume is the measure of all things. The jeepney to Tagbilaran consists of about 60% people, 40% air and a bit of tin with pious slogans around it. It’s easy to be in the here and now, because not even the Filipinos can ignore it. Lots of sweaty bodies on all sides, but no room to rub. The absolute nightmare for every toweller.
There is also a technique for crossing busy roads that is deeply rooted in Filipino philosophy. Nobody stops at zebra crossings here. You have to conquer the road, cross in the here and now. Don’t think about how your guts match the radiator colours of the next jeepney. Just go straight through the here and now. Don’t look. Always works. And nothing else.
I like the Filipino mentality. A deep serenity, but at the same time a strong presence. Lots of fierce eyes. That means, stop! There are exceptions. The Ocean Jet Speedboat takes five times as much as other ferries for the 80 kilometres across to Siquijor and half as much as a flight across the whole of the Philippines. I understand the principle: “Take them off today, they won’t be travelling with us a second time.” But I still don’t like it. Especially not when the stupid check-in guy asks for an extra 200 pesos for the kiteboard.
Good things always happen by chance, maybe you can make an effort, I don’t know. The next hut is on the edge of nowhere. There’s not even a bar in Siquijor Village. But we drive another 15 kilometres to Islanders Paradise Beach. At the edge of the water. I go to the next hut. Finally find some travellers, a couple from Norman who have been zodelled. At the bar, which has actually been closed for a long time, there’s San Miguel strong beer in customised bottles.
When they run out after the third post-lockdown order, we devote ourselves to Sir Tanduhay in a hail of shooting stars. The sea roars. Blowin in the wind from the laptop. Bats circle in front of the lightning of distant thunderstorms. Wind picks up. The moon is shining. Tomorrow will be a damn good day. I know it will be. I’m not a Filipino.
Frank Woelky, born in 1973. Kitesurfer since 1998. Since 2006, I have been combining kitesurfing and web design on trips lasting several months off the beaten track.