For those of you who know me moderately well, you are familiar with my appreciation of food. In short, I enjoy food immensely. And when possible I eat large quantities of the stuff. While this does not serve my waistline or pocketbook well, it does give me a warm and fuzzy feeling inside. Especially if that food is pizza, cheeseburgers, or, say, pasta. So imagine my delirious delight to learn, upon arriving in the town of Vigan, that a certain restaurant has all-you-can-eat pasta on Monday nights. For only P160 (about $3.70). What a treat. Vigan gets extra brownie points.
What does not get extra brownie points is the hotel I stayed in. The Vigan Hotel is described in the guidebook as such: "Suffers from a lack of TLC, but at least it is cheap". A more accurate description has never been proffered. Shortly after entering the room and depositing my backpack on the floor, I witnessed a cockroach enter from a tiny hole in the wall. I was taken aback. Not sure if I should let it be or yell for the front desk attendant, I settled for a middle-of-the-road option and squashed it with my shoe. From then on I was sure not to walk barefoot in the room so as not to get remnants of cockroach guts on my feet (I also have a slight germaphobia). At least there was a TV in the room; one night I got to watch Bear Grylls eat deer poop while in the Alabama backwoods. Apparently deer poop is like nature's multivitamin. Who know.
Vigan is a very cool town. Every other Philippine town was bombed by the Japanese and Americans in WWII, thereby destroying the vast expanse of Spanish Colonial Architecute that existed here since the 1500s. An American Air Force squadron was descending upon Vigan for a carpet bombing mission, and the Japanese forces evacuated at the last minute. In the next last minute the Air Force mission was aborted. What remains are cobblestoned streets and very old Spanish mansions. Some streets have neat lighting hanging from trees and horse-drawn carraiges act in the place of tricycles and taxis. I spent my time in Vigan visiting local museums, moseying around town, and hanging out with a well-travelled Canadian retiree named Ron. Him and I were the only two gringos in the whole town, so it wasn't too difficult to spot one another amidst all the locals. Ron is an inspiration. He's 67 years of age but is still able to travel on the cheap, out of a backpack. He estimates that in all his years of travel he's been to over 40 countries. Good on him for it.
Ron and I enjoyed the aforementioned all-you-can-eat pasta together over some beers. The pasta was good, but not spectacular. I can't complain with the price, though. And I think those Philippino waiters were kind of perplexed to see two big white guys ask time and time again for another bowl. They didn't see us comin'. After the meal Ron and I exchanged emails. The next morning he headed north and I took a road south.
Eventually I had to leave Vigan because I'd seen everything there is to see and I've got a rough timeline to follow. After waking up this morning, eating breakfast at a local cafe, and doing some interneting, I walked to the bus station. Rather, I attempted to walk to the bus station. See, when I arrived in Vigan I rode a tricycle from the bus station to my hotel, which wasn't a huge distance but wasn't close by. When the tricycle arrived at the hotel and I asked "how much?" the tricycle driver responded "40 pesos". What? No way! I happen to know that a tricycle ride within town shouldn't cost any more than P10. I was irritated at his attempt to swindle me. I talked the guy down and eventually game him P20, but only because he had to drive me across town. So, when departing Vigan I opted to walk to the bus station rather than have to deal with swindling tricycle drivers, a decision I later regretted when I was lost and wandering around in circles. After about an hour of going down several streets multiple times (and Vigan isn't a huge place, population 47,000) I was able to spy a landmark I had seen when I arrived. From the landmark I knew vaguely where I needed to be, so I headed in that direction. A few minutes later and lo and behold there stood a fleet of busses ready to take me anywhere.
I'm here in San Juan staying at a hotel outside my budget range, but it's the cheapest option in the area. Why am I in San Juan? Well, because this area is a haven for surfing. You may be saying to yourself "but Pat doesn't surf". I'm going to learn. Tomorrow morning I have an appointment with Ian, a surfing instructor. I'm not sure what to expect and imagine some hilarious moments of me crashing on the board or being swallowed up by a puny beginner's wave. Whatever happens I'll be sure to fill you all in with the next post.
Until then I hope everyone is doing well in other parts of the world. Take care.
Pat
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