Confronting Fears & Animals (mostly)

Another crazy-packed week in the Philippines, which has continued to amaze me with its people, its sites and culture. The only thing that I haven't been too impressed with is the food, but that's unimportant for this post.

Coron

After my practically flawless time in El Nido, I took a slow-boat over to its neighboring island, Coron. While I was here I took another boat tour to snorkel and explore, but it was less impressive than El Nido overall. This wasn't really a surprise, so let's get to the real surprise of my time in Coron.

Okay... maybe Coron is still beautiful :)

Our meal during this tour was such an island meal!!!!
The green on the far left is "sea grapes" - a very cool type
of seaweed that just bursts in the mouth like Japanese tobiko 

Passing through while on a kayak...

ALERT!! SEA URCHINS 4 FT BELOW ME!
SWIM AWAY!

Anyone who's seen me swim has probably never thought of me as an amazing swimmer. Yes, I will survive, but no, I cannot dive into the water's depths with a snorkel mask on, nor can I handle really rough currents with grace. So what crazy fear did I decide to face, for no particular reason at all, basically to put myself through a challenge? SCUBA DIVING!

So, I was terrified. And anyone reading this blog entry who has SCUBA dived before will probably laugh. We arrived at Reggae Dive Center (amazing place to dive with) bright and early at 7:30AM, and I wasn't speaking too much. I was so nervous. I had to test out all of the gear, the wet suit, the SCUBA jacket with all sorts of tubes and air pockets, swimming shoes, snorkel mask, you name it. And once everything was checked for fit, they loaded the tricycles and vans with the nitrogen tanks which would soon be our air supply... I get on the boat and the "lesson" officially begins, where we learn how to attach the tank onto the jacket's back, how to connect the tubes together and what everything means, basically. And I really thought to myself, "What the f- was I thinking, signing up for this madness?" My instructor was Dennis, he pep-talked me, asking me why I was scared, and I almost started to cry. What made me impulsively want to face a fear like this, of being in the depths of the sea, of water pressure changing the size of my lungs, possibly making my sinuses clog, nose bleed and ears hurt? I thought of all the terrible things that could happen. The closer we got to our first destination, the more I couldn't believe this was a legitimate fear of mine to submerge myself so deep into water where my only oxygen supply was through a tube in my mouth. The concept is pretty amazing, and terrifying.

The lesson begins...

How was I seriously going through with this? "This is crazy," I thought, yet so many people in the world do this. And then we made it to our first destination in the water... I got all my gear on. Tank, straps, tubes, wet suit, mask. We tried breathing through the tube in shallow water. It felt so unnatural, and you really had to regulate your breathing to match how the oxygen flowed in and out of the tube. Already that was unsettling, but I got it. But that was 60 seconds. Could I really do that, stay submerged and keep my cool for over 30 minutes? I put a belt of weights on. The thought of sinking lower and lower into the sea with pressure changing my body was intensifying my fear and anxiety. And then we sunk in, little by little. I adjusted my buoyancy, sinking lower, the pressure very present in my ears. Stay calm.

Suddenly I was under water and held my instructor's hand for the entire first dive!!!! I honestly felt like a newborn baby, completely helpless to be on my own and paid attention to nothing else but what things were directly in my peripheral vision - I could not tilt my head, turn, I just tried to kick my fins every once in a while, to continually breathe in and out at a steady rhythm. And then we found some beautiful things, like many anemones with clown fish swimming in it, huge 3ft clams, amazing large fish of every single shape and color, a cousin of the "spanish dancer", it truly is a different world down there.

!Japanese shipwreck from 70+ years ago

Then before I knew it my instructor gestured to be careful of my head - we were back at the boat's edge. He told me we were down there 34 minutes, and reached a depth of 11 meters. WHAT? It had only felt like 15 minutes, if that. I was also sort of relieved to breathe real air again.

Then we took a long break before our second dive - you need to wait about an hour for all of the nitrogen bubbles to leave your system. I could feel as I was swimming that parts of my fingers and toes were tingling. This was due to the bubbles going through my blood stream. Then we were ready for our second dive. I didn't feel totally satisfied with my accomplishment of the first dive, because I held onto my instructor the whole time. So why not throw myself another challenge - navigate entirely on my own for this second and final dive (WHY?).

So in letting go of my instructor, I felt completely weightless - it's quite an experience - it's just you, floating through the ocean's vastness, hearing nothing but your breath and the bubbles coming out of the tubes with every exhale, almost massaging your ears as they pass by to float back up to the surface. I was fine on my own for about 1/3rd of the dive. Moments after I took this picture above, during my 2nd dive and totally unaccompanied by my instructor, suddenly I couldn't get myself at the right buoyancy and I was starting to float up very quickly, which caused me to exert a lot of energy in trying to come back down - this caused a shortness of breath. I wanted to breathe faster (as what would naturally happen when you exert energy) but my breaths were faster than what I felt the regulator allowed - so I was forced to breathe air slower, which made me feel like I wasn't getting enough oxygen. Panic ensued, I was stuck down here, I was desperate for a real breath of real air. I swam to grab Dennis' arm and he gestured the "OK?" symbol with his hands and I shook my head no, he could see terror in my eyes, I begged to swim up to the surface, which was too high above me at this point for it to be a safe ascent if done quickly. He shook his head at me calmly, his hand gesturing to calm down, not panic, breathe in, and breath out. I squeeze his arm so tightly in fear that I was not getting enough oxygen. Breathe in, breathe out. In. Out. In...

...And suddenly, the panic had stopped, my breath caught up again with its only little tube source of air. Wow, wow, wow. I did not let go of him the rest of the way. That moment was truly so scary. SCUBA diving is so much mind over matter. It is such a true, meditative test - and probably one that is beneficial (or dangerous?) for people who have suffered panic attacks. It truly is a lesson that your mind is the answer - to allow yourself to take control of it, rather than let your mind take control of you. It really is the ultimate challenge of mental control. Because you are FORCED to calm down, to train your mind, to focus on your breathing, or else you die or get decompression sickness. I really panicked, and I was stuck with my only lifeline being this inflexible breathing tube in my mouth, my mind the ONLY source of recovery and survival. It is much harder to get rid of a panic attach above water, because you continue to breathe quickly and have your heart race. Here, deep under water, there IS NO way out.

After I calmed down and enjoyed the rest of the dive, suddenly it was already over - this time, we spent 44 minutes under water and were 12 meters down. I couldn't believe this either, because it only felt like 20 minutes. I'm convinced that time is relative underwater, and goes twice as slowly as above water...

Your breath. Your mind is the answer. It is such a powerful thing. It was truly a powerful discovery and moment for me. And WOW, I feel crazy that I did it, despite my fear, and despite my recent history of panic attacks since my dad's death, and I survived - twice. Truly a day I will always remember...

I then received my certificate of completing 2 dives. I thanked Dennis, over and over and over again. His calm nature helped me so much. I felt safe. There is an amazing side to SCUBA diving, which to me is in the trust that's quickly formed among the instructors and all students. You rely on each other and look after one another, and become a team. I felt the quick closeness that forms and understood immediately how people fall in love with this experience, and possibly one another.

At the end of this exhausting day, I found my body completely eaten alive not by mosquito bites, but flea bites. This has turned out to be a complete nightmare because I have over 30 bites all over my body, and they itch far more and for far longer than mosquito bites do. I blame the dog that sat right next to me when we went out for some food. (Note, it's been over a week since this incident, and the bites are still on my body).

In better news, I bumped into some of my great friends from El Nido! We ended the day doing a hike of 700+ steps up to the top of Coron's hilltop to enjoy the sunset, and that was that...

Cebu

This was my next stop the day after SCUBA diving and hiking the 700 steps. Here there's a well-known area where you can swim with whale sharks. I was initially highly against it, because apparently they are constantly fed in this area, which has made them begin to forget how to naturally migrate on their own to find food. I did not like the idea of interrupting their natural way of life, but all of the new friends I had made were on their way the following morning and I had nothing planned. Reluctantly, I went.

I'll admit, it was very cool to swim RIGHT next to these enormous, harmless creatures. They are so huge, it was still scary even though they don't eat humans. It reeked of fish, and I kept getting stung by anemone particles, and then a REALLY harsh sting. To my luck, I got stung by a jellyfish on the back of my knee... The whole thing though, to swim with the whale sharks was *ALMOST* not worth it, because it felt more like a disneyland attraction than a cool discovery in the water, despite them being in their natural ocean habitat. I don't regret it, but I do feel guilty.

It's Destiny from the Finding Dory movie!!
They have the cutest mouths

We were done with all of that by 9AM. I had no idea what was ahead of me the rest of the day - it felt like an overall animal cruelty day because then two new friends of mine said they were going to see a "cock fight" because it was the start of a 2-day festival here. Since I had nothing planned the rest of the day and the weather wasn't too great, I decided to tag along to see what that was like. I was in for complete culture shock.

It was at the back of this area along the main road, tons of male Filipinos, gambling. There was a game called "3 coins", which was perfectly fine and all in good fun. So much trust involved as well, because money is just thrown all across the floor and people will just remember and be honest about who gets what. But then it was time for the cock fights. Uh oh...

I can handle this! Just a gambling game with coin tosses!

I was not prepared for what I was about to witness. A huge den that men surrounded to watch the brawl. Owners first gather together with their roosters to see who will match up with who, based on if their roosters show determination to want to attack another. Once there's a match, someone with a briefcase of BLADES comes over and the owner takes out the blade and ties/wraps it around the back of their rooster's left foot with a strong. This place is curved like the grim reaper blade and is about 5 inches long, and sharp AF.

Look at those blades !!!!!!!!!!!!!

Then the owners enter the den with their roosters. A HUGE crowd of MEN surround the den area, and the owners hold onto the tails so the audience can observe the two roosters and their eagerness to kill. This is when the audience places bets on who will win. It's always a crowd favorite (one that has fought and won before) vs. the underdog (first time fighting). Men yell out who they are betting for and for how much, while the owners begin the pre-battle step: each rooster is held and has a go at striking forward to bite the other rooster's neck area 3-4 times. This can also sway how spectators bet.

Then they carefully untie the blade protector sleeve, place their roosters down and step away, and the battle begins... My jaw was open the entire time and honestly coincidence or not, my stomach physically hurt after the first fight and continued to hurt the rest of the afternoon. It's one of the most barbaric things I've ever seen, yet I couldn't look away.

The roosters just flail at each other, trying to strike with the blade. Eventually after several blows and slashes, one of them begins to weaken, or just can't get up anymore. The ref picks up both roosters again and drops them as a "reset" match, and you can tell which one is losing :( But if both are badly hurt and incapable of standing on their two feet, the ref will hold them again and see which oen will strike with its beak instead - 4 times in a row, and they win. You can see them dying, losing blood, closing their eyes, lights out. You can also see when they're totally suffering :( twitching from the loss of blood, trying to move... One of them brought tears to my eyes, because the match was over, but locals left the losing rooster in the arena - they TOSSED IT out of the den and it hit the fence on the way out and collapsed on the floor again. How can they do this? Why don't they just isntantly kill the poor thing to end its suffering? It was an intense culture shock, and I had a lump in my throat and watery eyes from the brutality and pain of it all. And yet, I was simultaneously fascinated and bewildered by this major event that this country looks forward to watching and participating in.

And what happens to the "winners" who might have had a few lacerations of their own? There's a rooster SURGEON. Yes, a doctor that almost immediately sews up the rips and tears in the skin for immediate repair - the rooster lies still, its head covered with a cloth - and it really doesn't move - it's perfectly calm. and then once it's healed, it's ready to take on another fight.

You really have to see it to believe it...

And the one who slowly dies? well - I watched one breaths away from death get taken away immediately and dunked into a barrel of boiling hot water. It was cooked immediately. Feathers ripped off... and you could see on its bare skin afterwards, the exact puncture wound that killed it - straight into the heart. People tried to give this whole gambling game validity, that it "gives them a chance to fight for their lives!" that "it's way better that they die in this way than how they die and are treated and killed in the farms where you live," I didn't want to believe that the chickens I've eaten have all died in a brutally unethical way that surpasses the "fight to the death" scenario of a Filipino cock fight and where the moment they are born they are trained to kill each other. But... I'm also not so naive to say that the chickens I've eaten were all killed the "right" way. I suppose ignorance is bliss...

The next 24 hours involved me eating no chicken at all. I suddenly felt so much disgust that I was eating these poor creatures. Instead, we had a very solid group of us rent motorbikes and drive 2 HOURS out to head to Kawasan Falls, a pretty waterfall area where you can go "canyoneering" - something I really wasn't in the mood to do - you jump around rocks, do cliff jumping, dive into water, get carried by the stream, hike, jump some more, it sounded exhausting. But the motorbike ride there was amazing, as was the color of the water... So I stayed at the waterfall while my friends all went canyoneering.

My Cebu crew in their canyoneering gear!

Where I stayed instead of canyoneering.
Not a bad alternative ;) 

The motorbike ride back was equally as awesome - all clustered close together in a line on the highway, zipping through the night. I absolutely love being on a motorbike, especially traveling in a group - once again, the theme of looking out for one another and sticking together. I've felt this theme very strongly throughout multiple situations in my travel this year.

Bohol

I only spent 2 days here after Cebu, and I'll be honest I could have skipped it. I did an extremely touristy tour, not realizing it would be so. This really soils an experience abroad, when you realize you're being taken to so many gimmicky places. What I really wanted to see were the "chocolate hills", really cute peaks in a landscape, but even that was not what I fully expected, because you could only take your picture on a gated lookout point, you couldn't climb them - I was hoping for something adventurous like that.

The gimmicky spots were an unimpressive snake farm, butterfly sanctuary, a TERRIBLE "river cruise" for lunch where the food wasn't even good and then it stopped on a moat where there were performers playing the ukulele and dancing the traditional Filipino dance jumping over the two bamboo sticks on the floor like hopscotch (ok this was cool to watch, but the rest was completely unauthentic). BUT... One stop I was not expecting and it was wild - TARSIERS! These are the creatures with the really huge eyes, oh my god I had never seen one before and they are so tiny, they really look like little aliens with frog hands and gremlin faces. They could fit in your hand and are probably in between the size of a hamster and guinea pig.

Amazing forest/road we drove through on the way back

The other highlight in Bohol had nothing to do with the tour (which I wanted nothing to do with after it was finally over) was the fresh seafood. Really really fresh, caught-an-hour-ago fresh, seafood.

Where I am now

Boracay, my last official stop before Manila! There won't be much at all to write about Boracay, because the weather has not been good here and it's mostly just beach time and fun nights out (TYPHOON ISSA, finally coming! - relieved it's only at the tail end of my trip that one is actually starting). I plan to write one final blog entry, the day I'm at the airport about to fly back home for my final "Closing Words", as usual. There is so much to reflect on, recap and express after this trip. I do not even know where exactly to begin, but I guess whirlwinds don't really have a beginning or end, do they?