Trip To Romblon

Travelling on the small islands is difficult, but also valuable. A jeep takes us to the highway three kilometres away. After a while, a jeepney comes along and takes us to San Augustin in the north of Tablas, two hours away. The crossing to Romblon with the big bangka is another tough one. Even a Filipina gets seasick – the equivalent of a fish drowning in the water.

I remember my first trip across the open sea on the bangka. I was really scared after all the horror stories I’d heard. Now fatalism sets in, coupled with the knowledge that I can swim further than most of the other passengers. Or rather, that I can swim at all. My head rocks calmly in the swell.

The trikes on Romblon are bigger than anywhere else in the Philippines. We still need two for five passengers plus luggage. We were the only guests at the last two places on Carabao and Tablas. That’s why we didn’t book anything on Romblon. We drive south along the coast until we find the 3P diving resort. Tables, statues, marble bar stools, the entire bathroom in stone and shells. Fine.

I’ve been cut off from the web for four days. I can’t think about working anyway. However, I would at least like to tell customers and interested parties why everything is taking a little longer. No mobile internet, no provider, no wifi, nowhere. So we drive back to Romblon Town in the evening. The Romblon Deli finally has WiFi. We four lads sit at three laptops, while Miri is probably just wondering about our worlds. The English owner has some good stories and important tips for the rest of our journey.

On the way back, five of us sit in a trike that is far too weak. 13 Filippinos can manage these things – on the flat. But five Europeans on the mountain are too many. Jules and I jump off and push on the steepest inclines. The engine is glowing and smells pretty unhealthy.