King Kiting For The Second Time

The drunken Portuguese foreman of 5000 men on a building site in Hong Kong brings us free drinks on the last evening in Charlh’s bar. Apparently the keeper doesn’t want to let him steal the singer’s microphone like he did two nights before. We don’t find out whether his plan works. Three weeks on Boracay were simply enough. We end up in bed reasonably early.

We set off for Tablas early in the morning. Even leaving Boracay is subject to a hefty eco-tax. Letting poo rot in the sea is simply super eco. We drive past the Bulabog one last time. It looks even fuller from outside. I’m infinitely glad to finally get away. I sit on my kite bag in two metres of swell on the sun deck and keep an eye out.

After three hours, we arrive in Looc on Tablas, jump onto the back bumper of a jeepney and drive a few kilometres to Aglicay Beach. I take two more couples there on the way. Three weeks ago, the wind here was hack, but the sky was very cloudy. Today I get the pictures I’m looking for. The wind is light, but the colours are just amazing.

On arrival, some Filipinos are already singing videoke badly and very loudly in the restaurant at Aglicay Beach Resort. Nobody who hasn’t been to the Philippines can even begin to comprehend what the worst is. The worst clips from any casting show, on the other hand, are respectable number one hits across the board. We sit on the beach and howl. They don’t understand the fence post. We howl louder, but understanding is probably not a question of volume.

So we assume that the “singers” are simply snot-tight. But they are still stone cold sober. They sing snot-tight in the evening. I’m mean, because I blaspheme loudly and often. Saving face is very important everywhere in Asia. I should have done better. I should have gone over and simply explained to them, logically and soberly, why they are turning their faces into snotty green mush right now, at this very moment and with every single completely wrong note.

Back to the topic. I’m kitesurfing at a fantastic spot! Max waves from the beach for a while, I hear Boracay and I’m afraid I’ve forgotten my board there. But it’s his harness. It takes ages just to organise transport here on the Bangka. But then there are only two things left. Me and the water. And then Max and the water, with my harness.

I hate all those trick weight kite pictures where you only see kiters, water and sky. It’s a complete uprooting of what kiting is all about: being one with the wind, the sea, the shore and the whole world. If I don’t see any of that in the pictures, they are worthless. The pictures today are gold, in turquoise, blue, green and yellow.