Where's Scott?

Tensions have been rising between Seb and Mabel over the house project (and the lack of planning and preparation that’s been done for it), and Seb grouses about the lack of cost estimates and general lack of cash planning while Mabel gives him the silent treatment and generally pouts. Seb’s tried to keep cash in check, but we’re running low and the closest ATM is over 2 hours away on a very bumpy road! Finally he opts for a trip to Western Union, but soon discovers that despite the fees, crappy exchange rate, and tracking number requirements, there’s also a 24 hour waiting period before the cash can be collected. Still, the trip into San Isidro to visit the WU affords us a chance to have a nice pork and mango lunch in the central park.

One of Mabel’s uncles, Naning, who rented us the truck, has also offered to take us up to his coconut farm in the hills above Basud, and it’s such a nice afternoon we take him up on the offer. We hightail it through the mountain roads admiring the view of the sea below us and happen upon a local cockfight arena… we insist on a quick pit stop! The arena is a professional affair, about 150 locals crowded around a well constructed covered wooden cage and stands – we’re immediate ushered up past the crowds and through the fight floor to the VIP box! Suddenly, we feel like the show! Seb and I trade (half serious) jokes that we may be asked to jump in the bloodstained ring as the next attraction as we realize that nobody’s eyes are on the birds, just on the two of us! We play it as cool as we can, and lay a few bets while a local explains how Filipinos and blacks share the same discrimination is the states, and can’t walk into stores or get jobs (his information obviously dating from another era!). The cockfights are very bloody, starting out with the handlers getting the birds to bite each other around the neck while wagers are taken, odds calculated, and the crowd screams various taunts at each other and the birds. It’s mostly a male affair, but there are a number of women of all ages peering in, and we spot an old women with a huge spliff eyeing us. The fights themselves are fast. Once the poisoned claw blades are uncovered and the birds dropped, the start to leap over each other literally chopping each other to bits. The birds fight until one goes comatose (or dies, which apparently most do later anyway) which rarely takes more than 60 seconds; blood and bird bits are everywhere, and Seb and I are nearly splattered a few times. The crowd revels in it.

After a few fights (and a winning bet on our part, despite our attempts to lose), we’ve seen enough and make a swift exit hoping we haven’t understayed our welcome. We push through the fish mongers and dozens of motorcycle youths and jump back in the truck feeling very out of our element! About 600 yards down the road, we hit a series of dirt piles blocking the road and wonder if the motorcycle gang plans to ride up behind us for an ambush; but our fears are baseless as the piles are just incomplete road repair, and we jump out and clear enough for the truck to ride past (whew, we weren’t worried, really! Uncle Noel later tells us that it’s very dangerous in the mountain roads – kidnappings and whatnot – and he told us to never go there 😉

Naning’s farm is in a spectacular location straddling the top of a hillside overlooking the sea and the interior valleys of Leyte. Someone scales a nearby palm tree to fetch a few coconuts, and we’re quickly all learning to climb the trees (key: there are small footholds in the stalks!). They crack a few open, drain the milk and scoop out the thin, almost transparent meat – very different from the meat of the coconuts I’ve seen before. The then create a mix of coconut milk, regular milk, sashimi-like slivers of coconut meat, sugar, ice and a Tang like juice to create a very slippery and tasty evening drink/snack. Naning tells us how he’s fortunate to have title over his land (unlike many of his neighbors) and has made a fortune in the land appreciation, 10 times in as many years! He tells us how most of the land between the rows of palm trees is planted with rice or corn, but that this year most farmers planted rice instead of corn, and when the rains didn’t come, their crops all failed… for a society that eats rice with breakfast, lunch and dinner (Noel’s family goes through a 50kg bag of rice every month), that’s a tragedy!