The day starts far too early again. Montezuma’s fist is playing pinochle with my intestines. Today we are going on a tour to the islands of Malcapuya, Banana Island and Bolog Island, 25 kilometres south of Coron. The ten-metre bangka takes 1.5 hours to get there. Only one young Phlippine couple is travelling with us.

The remnants of the night wind now give us a metre swell. Enough to throw the spray in fountains over the entire deck. Everything gets wet. We are travelling in the relative protection of the islands of the archipelago. Perhaps it’s just as well that we don’t get a bangka 160 kilometres to El Nido after all. The internet is full of horror stories about two-and-a-half metre waves, lost luggage, 30-hour trips and accidents. (more…)

Uli is doing her diving course. Meanwhile, I get myself a nice Yamaha DT for little money – and 100% insurance-free. The deposit is my driving licence. There are no police checks. The bike consists of handlebars, motor and two tyres. No lights, no fuel gauge, no speedometer, few brakes, no kick starter. Starting is only possible by pushing. Let’s have some fun!

The tarmac ends just ten kilometres after Coron City. What remains is a dirt track. Perfect for this bike. The difference between light and shade on the road is extreme due to the high sun. I miss a few deep potholes. Bridges are usually just a few wooden planks, if there are any. At one point I cross a small river. (more…)

At last! That’s how it should be! The sun rises just before we enter the harbour in Coron. “The rainy season lasted much longer this year,” says a local resident. Until a few days ago, it rained non-stop for weeks. The result: murderous humidity at 30 degrees at seven in the morning. We almost fall over before we take a trike to the coconut resort.

The Kokonuss Resort is fine: small nipa huts in a tropical garden. Indian statues and fountains, flowers, palm trees, Nepalese flags. Wonderful. The bamboo hut is simple and cheap, but a bit mouldy. You get wet in the water. Banana pancake, shower and finally spread out our clothes. We stay here for a few days. I’m looking forward to the peace and quiet. (more…)

Today is a defiance blog day. Departure at seven o’clock in Banaue. 350 kilometres through the rain down the mountains to Manila. After a while, the road even has a central reservation again. We make the journey in eight hours. Another 1.5 hours through Manila at rush hour. Roundabout in five “lanes”. The right-hand lane continues to circle, while the left-hand lane shoots outwards.

I miss a junction, we end up on the Skyway and are 10 kilometres away from the rental car station in no time at all. Open up, off to the hostel. In, spread out my water gear, out. There’s a small shopping centre around the corner. Small, that is, just under 500 shops. It goes by the name of Robinsons Plaza. Fitting. Search for the exit for half an hour. (more…)

Before breakfast, we take a short hike to the hanging coffins of Sagada. The Ifugao bury their people hanging in rock faces or in one of the many caves. At breakfast we meet two nice backpackers from Holland and Italy. They had already admired my park skills yesterday. So now they think I’m a safe driver. We give them a lift to Banaue.

It continues to rain cats and dogs. The road leads over a rough dirt track 500 metres down into the valley. The axle seems to survive. It clears up briefly and the first rice terraces appear between clouds of mist. Then the road is completely closed due to a landslide. An excavator shovels a few tonnes onto a truck, then we carry on. (more…)

Today’s route does not require a sat nav. Creep 20 kilometres out of Baguio in a traffic jam. Follow the serpentines for 100 kilometres straight on to Sagada. In fact, there is not a single tarmac descent or straight road on the entire route. The “highway” leads up into the clouds to over 2200 metres. The temperature drops to 12 degrees.

It’s pouring with rain. In the clouds, visibility is sometimes only 50 metres. In combination with the sudden appearance of a few hundred metres lowered road halves due to landslides, it is quite entertaining. The excitement is great when the road has completely slipped away and the diversion 50 metres higher up is an unsurfaced gravel track with a clear view down the steep face. (more…)

Funnily enough, everything that Lonely Planet recommends is completely overcrowded and twice as expensive. The 100 Islands National Park tops that. The cabins on the outermost island now cost four times as much as they did two years ago. So bye-bye Robinson, hello day trip. At 17 euros for a few hours on a private boat trip to some of the more than one hundred islands, it’s okay.

The islands are coral reefs raised from the seabed, completely overgrown with greenery and gnawed away by the sea at all edges. Some look like turtles, but most look like fossilised hippie mushrooms. I take my kite gear with me on the little bangka. Unfortunately, there’s no wind. But the trip is still great. (more…)

There are 11 million reasons to hate Manila right off the bat. Manila is big, humid, loud, dirty and worse than the fuckers in Pattaya. We arrive at the hostel in the middle of the night. The quality of the karaoke show next door is almost semi-professional, the volume much louder. Four hours of sleep later, I’m flowing through the morning streets, discreetly jetlagged.

After three minutes, the first whore wants a cigarette. Then a massage. I’m not in the mood for a massage today. And her offer is too low. I decline and leave her looking a bit stupid. I want a SIM card and to get out of Manila. Quick breakfast at the hostel, out again and pick up the hire car. The taxi driver needs 15 minutes for the 5 kilometres as the crow flies, I need more than 1.5 hours back. (more…)

Some things just don’t go together. Or do you know a junkie with a phobia of syringes? Not me. I’m a kiter. As of today, I’m afraid of kites. Stupid thing. My first contact with China. I’m very intimidated.

The check-in at China Air in Frankfurt takes less than five minutes. A 30kg kite bag actually comes free of charge. At Condor, 1kg more costs 40 euros. The seat on the plane is gigantic. At over 1.93 metres, I don’t bump into the backrest of the person in front of me. On German airlines, if the person in front of me moves backwards, the only thing that usually helps is yodelling. Tai Chi exercises for dinner. (more…)