A Charmed Life: Life's a Play!

From Malaysia to Singapore to Batam island in Indonesia.


My visa-stay in Malaysia was again running out (and I was being pursued by the authorities for overstaying and alleged illegal work! -- kidding, hehe) so I had to run to Singapore!


Arriving in Singapore, after much walking and sweating looking for a cheap place to stay, I found a hotel where I met a couple of extremely interesting people: A guy from Chile with a very dramatic and amusing life-story, and a recently separated Korean young mother who equally had a very interesting but a rather mournful life-story to tell. Their stories were very long and despite the tiredness and stress of that day, meeting them made my one night stay in Singapore very memorable. Their stories could definitely be written down into novels to entertain the world but I won't go into that.... Ok, what I'm saying is; looking back to that night, and how I happen to randomly hook up with 2 very contradicting personalities, who, after a mere couple of minutes of meeting them, opened up to tell about their most personal lives - I found it very odd, and very heart-warming at the same time.



Anyway, that night, the Korean lady mentioned that she wanted to go to a really beautiful beach resort island part of Indonesia which is less than an hour away from Singapore by ferry. I was intrigued and I thought I'd go with her since staying in Singapore is expensive for me anyway. So the very next morning, we bought our tickets and off we went, excitedly, to an adventure in Batam island, anticipating to see white sand beaches and hunky boys, hihi.



Arriving at our destination, however, we were met by surprise and great disappointment. We arrived at a dingy, dusty, depressed-looking, overpopulated city with no trace of fellow travelers, or hotels, or tourist destinations. My friend insisted that we're supposed to be in a touristic area with excellent resorts and white sand beaches! The locals didn't know what a guesthouse or a traveler's hotel mean. They didn't have an idea what we were looking for or why we were there in the very first place. They gave us the look: "who are you and what on Earth are you doing here?" To boot, nobody spoke English! You either have to speak Chinese or Bahasa Indonesia. (My little knowledge of Bahasa Malaysia helped us through).



It was both our first time to set foot in Indonesia, and ignorant of the very low value of the local currency (US$ 1 = 10,000 Rupiah), we thought we were just being blatantly ripped off. And my companion, specially, became very aggressive in arguing with the locals. She even started to quarrel about taxi fare with the taxi driver who became intimidated by her. After a couple of hours being shuttled from one old, dark, rat and cockroach infested hotel room to another; and prices that don't contain less than five zeroes, we almost lost hope, and darkness was fast approaching. We were strangers in a very strange island. The island inhabitants didn't speak our language and we didn't speak theirs.

But, to the local people's credit, I hasten to add that nobody tried to harm or seriously cheat us. They had been all nice, friendly and helpful. One hotel owner even offered us 50% off, that would make a dirt cheap 50,000.00 Rp/night for the 2 of us. But we declined because we could not stand the dimly lighted rooms and corridor, a leaking bathroom, and my friend shrieked when she saw cockroaches. They even made all efforts to find the only guy in town (it seems) who spoke English - a young Indonesian man who learned English by formerly working in a resort somewhere else. He was very helpful and very sympathetic towards us -- we, scared, but very demanding, very confused and disoriented-looking chicks ( i mean, we really looked like lost baby chicken squawking).



To make the story short, we settled to consider ourselves lucky to have finally arrived to this one resort near a lead-colored seashore at a discounted price of Rupiah 250,000.00 /night. Compared to all the hotels we were brought to within the city limits, this one looked very decent, had a nice sea-breeze, and it has a swimming pool at least. It was not peak season, the manager said, that's why we could stay at such a discounted price. Being an experienced hotelier, the manager somehow understood our shock when it came to money matters. He calmly and soft-spokenly explained to us, with a calculator, the currency conversion. And he spoke some English and was kind and understanding; and we felt finally at ease.




These were the only photos I managed to take of Batam island. We were too scared and nervous at first so that only after we settled in this resort (PT. KTM Indonesia Hotel and Restaurant) that we managed to relax and take photos.




















The next day, we spent all time enjoying the swimming pool, and then finding no other thing to do in that island, we took the afternoon ferry bound to Johor Bahru, Malaysia.



The hilarious thing, which we only realized after we left the island, was, we were supposed to go to Bintan island and not Batam! Huge difference! Bintan island was the beautiful resort island my friend spoke about. Batam island is another island which only old Casino-playing Singaporeans go during weekends!

Yay!!!!





I'd still say it was a cool adventure, something worth retelling, hah hah!

These photos appeared in my inbox a couple of days ago. I was confused as to whether it was just sent, or if it was sent some years ago but somehow just got stuck and was miraculously hidden somewhere in my inbox and have only recently re-appeared, (sometimes this seems to happen). So I emailed the sender to confirm if he just sent me some photos of 3.5 years ago which I have totally forgotten. He promptly emailed back saying that he indeed just sent the photos because he was not sure if he ever sent them...

ha ha, and that was exactly three and a half years ago! I have not been in touch with this stranger, a fellow passenger on a rocky boat ride to Sabtang island, who took some snapshots of me. Thus I was very surprised when he sent the photos after years have already passed.














Whew, what a fresh reminder of my solo adventure to the Batanes group of islands where i was stranded for weeks due to weather conditions. I was very glad I went there when only a few could really walk the talk, he he.. Just before going there, I researched in the internet and could only see a couple of information and a handful of government/tourism photos. Now if you google it, there's a lot of information and thousands of photos about the islands...



It was in Batanes where I experienced how extremely rough and inhospitable nature can become. I almost died on the boat trip from Itbayat to Basco, and it was not due to a capsizing boat, but my body was half frozen because of cold, and much weakened because of vomiting. It was more than a roller coaster ride where the boat was like a surfer being carried by the huge waves of the open sea. The icy-cold, salty ocean wave kept lashing at me, forcing me to eat salt, causing my eyes to be sour, and salt crystallizing all over my face . So I was just grateful for the rain to be alternatively whisking its freshness washing off the salt which was wind-drying on my body. I kept holding on to the side of the boat lest I'll fall down for sea creatures to snack on. Oh, what a memory!


Yet, paradoxically, the people were just the opposite of their volcanic- rock-islands and moody-broody weather, for they were one of the most gentle, warm and hospitable people I ever met.


I survived, and it was a wonderful trip indeed....

Boat-maker's village in Sabtang island. I like the virgin ruggedness of the place. I was drenched in the rain, riding a motorbike in a weather that is more fickle-minded than a woman. :-)

One day, I went to eat lunch in this cute and tiny restaurant in Itbayat island, the furthest inhabited island of Batanes province. While their mother was cooking my food, I asked these twin girls if I can photograph them. Their mother translated my request to them in their local language. Upon learning about my request, the two girls had a little discussion, said something to their mother and then quickly went outside. At first, I thought they rejected my request and I got a bit disappointed. However, to my surprise, their mother told me that they wanted to go and change their clothes to their best clothes first and that they'll come back for me to take their photographs. Touched by their 'big little' efforts to look good in front of my camera and later audience, I said "no need, you look good as you are, please come back". Their mother called them back and translated what I said. Hesitantly, they came back and I took this photo of them.

Really "pacific"... deep, quiet and calmed.,. not until the next typhoon...

Rolled down from the volcanic mountains for a million of years.

The boat-carvers camp in these organic and natural huts... They eat fresh fish, rice and vegetables...

Visited a village in the back mountains. It's a boat carving village.

In an unspoilt corner of the world.

Mount Iraya, sacred volcanic mountain to the Ivatans...

1. Leap of Faith

It is true, I just saw Batanes on a map and was curious so I flew there. Before going to Batanes I was thinking of traveling locally, only that I had no idea where. I did not know anyone from there. I just got a handful of information from the internet. I made up my mind for a solitary adventure so I packed up and went off. And everything went so right!

2. To the Clan Mothers, I lower my head in respect

The sisters, aunts and mothers, I met in Batanes have literally, sheltered me, fed me, clothed me, listened to me, and, cheered me up when I needed it. I couldn't say more how grateful I am. They have showered me their genuine love and generosity.

I might have looked really miserable (although I don't think so) that one day when 2 aunts offered me clothes to wear: "wear this to keep you warmer, I do not have "kili-kili" (armpit odor) power so don't worry". "These are my daughters' but they are not using it anymore, pick anything you can wear to keep you comfortable in this chilly weather". I wanted to tell them that I didn't need anymore clothes but of course I could not tell them to their faces. So I accepted and was indeed, warmer :-). Mothers truly know better.

From my understanding, the idea of "clan mothers" is Celtic as well as derived from other indigenous traditions the world over. They are the females of the human race who nurture and train their youngs (specially their daughters or the young women of the community) to perform their invaluable role in the community such as nurturing, healing, inspiring, magicking, etc, etc. This 'clan mothers' follow the long-forgotten Goddess Path. So when I was there with these wonderful women, I felt I was being nurtured and taught by the great mother Goddess herself. I felt the warmth especially that my own mother passed away for several years already and I have not been feeling that nurturing connection for quite a few years since my mother died.

And of course, the uncles, fathers and brothers I found in those islands have also kept my heart warm and their funny jokes made me laugh despite the moody broody weather.

3. Optimism and Helpers

Whatever you want to do to make you happy, if it is fun and of good report, if it makes your soul smile, by all means, do it! Be determined and positive and assistance from nowhere magically flows to you. I was short of money but was determined to leave Basco that day, good souls swiftly came to my aid. And of course, since I can practically pay the money back through bank transfer, I did not choose to have it for free.

... And this wonderful Batanes trip is not of course an isolated case. Similar wonders of kindness, sincerity, human warmth, synchronicity, good impressions, invaluable education, friendship, etc, etc, were experienced in my local travels in the Philippines, in Hokkaido, in Thailand and in Cambodia. These experiences are encouraging me to do more, to do what I really want to do... to travel far and wide, to touch peoples' lives and be touched by them.

~^~^~

........ ... THE END of this chapter.................

... Finally (again), I was off in the air! The Asian Spirit plying the Manila-Basco-Tuguegarao route is much bigger than I expected, and I felt like back to "civilization".

Before boarding the plane, I arranged to have a rendezvous with a friend in Tuguegarao. She'll have to travel one hour from her place to go to Tuguegarao.

The aircraft touched down in Tuguegarao airport and I went downtown by tricycle. When I reached the city, I wondered whether I came back to "civilization" or to chaos. Noise, air pollution, people, buildings, tricycles, buses, jeepneys, and even calesas are all crowding the streets.

The calesa (horse drawn carts used for public transportation) especially caught my attention. The horses were so pitiful. They are skinny, they appear to be dehydrated, drained of energy, parched by the heat of the sun... Then I lifted my gaze up to their drivers. Hands clutching thick ropes used in flagging the horses, eyes scrounging the streets for passengers. I was very surprised. It struck me how the horsemen astonishingly resembled their horses. Very skinny, shriveled, scorched skins... I didn't know what to think. I stood there for sometime, stunned, silently watching them.

I thought how the Ivatans always claim that they are "poor." In the same manner, many outsiders (non-Ivatans) think of the Ivatans as poor and primitive since they live in stone houses. But no Ivatan I saw look like these drained people of the cities, their shirts hanging very loosely from their twiggy bodies. Moreover, the Ivatans' animals are healthy, happy and free.

My brooding over suffering and misery was suddenly replaced by happiness when my friend arrived. Such a relief. We happily trotted towards Chowking and ordered halo-halo with ice cream for each. We savored the creamy ice and beans in that humid hot weather, excitedly talking in between gulps. After an hour, my friend sent me off to the bus terminal where I will take my ride to Baguio that evening. Then she also had to catch the last jeepney back to her place. Even for that very brief time together, it was a joy to meet a friend you have not met for a quite sometime and in a place you are both not familiar with.

The bus started at 5 pm and I arrived in Baguio at 5 am. I felt totally exhausted. Certainly, not from the 3 weeks fruitful adventure but from the 12 hours bus ride.

to be continued...

Travel Time: January 2006

Finally, (again) the mighty wind calmed down a bit and I was able to board a rock'n boat back to Basco. While on board, I sent sms to the people there sayin', "I am comin' back". The doctor's wife replied, "drop by at the house and eat your breakfast".

Since I have seen most of the things to be seen, I thought it's time to get back to Luzon. So the next day, I went to the airport to book a ticket. At the airport, I confirmed that there is a flight going back to Loaog at about 11 am that day. So I went back to my host's house to get my things. Just before I was preparing to leave, the doctor came to give me a live "tatus" (coconut crab), an Ivatan special delicacy when cooked. It is actually a crab that looks like a combination of a big black spider and a crab (sounds gross?). They convinced me that it tastes better than a lobster! The doctor and his wife are very kind and thoughtful to take the trouble of bringing me a tatus. They thought that since I am not able to try tatus in my stay there (because of the sour weather there was no catch), I'd bring one with me to taste when I get back home.

After saying goodbye to the folks, I was brought to the airport only to discover that there was no flight because I was the only passenger! "Maybe tomorrow", they said.

Next day came, no flight, then another day, no flight. I was getting impatient. This time, it was not the weather who's the troublemaker, it was the lack of passengers. I could not afford to charter the whole 8 seater aircraft. Everyday, I packed up and said goodbye and everyday, I walked back to the house, my host family always welcoming me with open arms and great smiles. "Always come back to our house", they said.

The day came when I made up my mind to go back to Luzon no matter what it takes. In a few days, I have a scheduled trip to Palawan and there is no certainty when passengers for Loaog will appear. I decided to take the bigger Asian Spirit airplane bound for Tuguegarao. With this altered plan, however, I have to undergo a few compromises . I have to pay a thousand pesos more for the plane fare; I will have to forget seeing a couple of places in Ilocos Norte, places I originally planned of seeing on my way back to Baguio; I have to take a longer route, I have to ride a looong 12 hours bus ride from Tuguegarao to Baguio instead of the 6 hours from Loaog.

This time, I was really determined. But there was one major problem. I am short of 800 hundred pesos for the plane fare. There is only one ATM bank in Basco and unfortunately, I tried but could not withdraw money from that bank. So I texted one kababayan (a guy from the same Province I come from) I previously befriended in Itbayat island. At the same time, Kuya, the father in my host family learned of my problem and he told his wife. So Ate Ofie, the lady host, came to my rescue and told me that if I am really determined to leave that day, she would lend me the needed money. Then she reiterated what she had been telling me throughout my stay there, that, "if I need anything, I should not hesitate" telling them...

Meanwhile, Mr. Kababayan in Itbayat texed back, saying "kas anu ngay, ket agutang ka a dita ta siak tu ti mangbayad". (Borrow money from anyone there and I will be the one to pay)...Aren't all these people great? I sometimes seriously think I drifted to one of those angelic realms.

....continued next post...

...The previous evening, the Chief mentioned to me about some burial jars left lying at the back of the munusipyo (town hall). So before going to the port that morning, I went to have a look at the jars.

The ancient Ivatans have 2 major ways of burying their dead. One is putting their dead, fetal position, inside large burial jars. The jars are huge, about 3 feet long or more. When I saw the jars left there to crumble, I was a bit concerned.

I remember, years ago in my archeology digging class in Tokyo, we tried our best to dig, slowly and carefully to preserve whatever artifact we may find. If we find even just a fragment or a chip, we handle it with utmost care ensuring it reaches its safe place in a museum. But here, these huge ancient (and perhaps sacred) jars are left exposed to the power of the elements. One jar is even turned into a trash can.

... It can't be helped, the forces of nature are hard-headed sometimes. From the port, I disappointedly walked back to the clinic. The staff warmly welcomed me for the second time.

The mayor of that town came with a man he was showing around. He introduced the man to the staff as the new chief police of the town. I was sitting at the corner frowning at the sudden downpour when the mayor noticed me. It was the second time I meet the mayor that day. He introduced me to the Chief.

Since we are both Ipula (non-Ivatan), the Chief of police seemed to find it agreeable talking to me than to the others.

He asked: What are you researching about?

I said: I am researching on how to get rid of the police.

He said: "What???"

I said: Ah, no I'm just kidding... I am researching on how we can do away with lawyers. (smiles)

He said: But why??? why do away with the police or lawyers?

I was silent for a while... wracking my brain to spit out the right words to follow through my initial brashness. But before I can come up with better words to say to him, he proved himself quick-witted and broadminded (mind you, contrary to my expectations of chief polices, hihi).

He said: Ah, you mean so that the people themselves police their own communities?

I said: Exactly sir! (wow, he could pick up my thoughts!)

He said: I fully agree with that and would really promote that proposition.

Then he elaborated more about his opinions on how the people may take charge of the peace and order over their own communities and the role the police would perform in that prospect. After that short exchange, the Chief and the mayor had to leave.I spent the rest of the afternoon writing on my journal.

In the evening, somebody reappeared, the Chief. We greeted each other. He told me that he is waiting for the mayor who is somewhere around the neighborhood and that they are going to a birthday party nearby and that he is waiting for the mayor's text message. While waiting for the mayor, we talked about politics, religion, tribes, and the zero crime rate of Batanes. I told him about the main door of the clinic which is always kept open. Even at night, the security guard leaves the door open while he sleeps on a folding bed beside it. The Chief laughed and reflectively mentioned that since he came from chaotic Manila, he may get bored of the quietness and pacific mood of his new destination.

He asked why I chose to come to distant Batanes rather than any other place nearer mainland Philippines. I said, I merely saw the Batanes group of islands in a map and wondered about the them. So I came, and saw, and is now fascinated with the place and its people. The awaited beep came and the Chief had to go.

It was indeed interesting to exchange opinions with the Chief. From his physical looks alone, it seemed that his female aspect is very activated. He looked quite feminine, with a light frame, average height, light complexion, soft but firm vocal chords. Just the opposite of my image of pot-bellied policemen

I set my phone to alarm at 5:30 for the next morning. I was told that the first trip to Basco will be at 6 am. That is, if the weather is right.

Then I went to bed..

The next day was Monday. Someone was assigned to show me around the 4 other villages in the morning. In the afternoon, I am supposed to go back to Basco. Concerned that I might be inconveniencing them too much, I suggested I pay for the gas that will be used for the trip.

My guide brought me to the fascinating "old style" looking villages. We motorbiked through very narrow and steep roads and passages. At one point, I even requested to my guide to let me walk in an almost 90 degree steep narrow road (which looked more like a sidewalk than a road) telling him that I will ride the motorbike again when the road reaches a safely acceptable level. He said that that's not necessary so I gathered up my courage and we passed through that overhang. We motorbiked through steeps, rain or shine, windy or not (the weather seemed to flip-flop every 5 minutes).

We even climbed an "idjang", an ancient mountain fortress by the Ivatan ancestors. In the Philippines, only Batanes has this culture which is similar in utility and characteristic to the "chashi" of the Ainu of Japan. My Ivatan friends knowledgeably mentioned that this fortress culture also closely resembles the ancient fortresses in Okinawa, Japan.

When we came back to the center of the town at 12 noon, there were enough passengers waiting for the boat that goes back to Basco. I hurriedly took my bag and ate lunch. But when the boat arrived, it refused to travel back to Basco. The other passengers tried to negotiate, they offered that we passengers pay more than or even double the regular boat fare. Despite all the coaxing, the boat owner was decided that his boat is not going to go back to Basco that same day.

I began to worry, I no longer have business there, I had to go back to Basco. I didn't wanna be stranded again. There is one more chance the other passengers said. There is a bigger boat coming, it is sturdier, its captain might agree to go back to Basco. When the bigger boat arrived, the people negotiated again. The captain just simply refused to sail while trying hard to avoid the eyes of all the waiting passengers, then he went straight home.

It was sunny and warm. I seriously wondered why these boat operators refused to travel for just 30-45 minutes. We even offered to pay them more! I heard one stubborn (like me) passenger express, "Kung pwede lang lakarin ang dagat..." (If I can only walk on water)... Later, I learned that the reason for no sailing that afternoon was because the wind shifted north. The locals call it nortada. In Tagalog, it is Amihan. I fancied that if I have a daughter, I may name her Amihan. It sounds cute, and the girl will be strong and fierce as the north wind! Nobody seemed to dare challenge the north wind...

After a couple of days of cranky weather in Basco, we sensed that the wind is coming from the east. This meant that the weather condition is getting better and that I could take the chance to jump to another island. So my friend, the Doctor's beautiful wife, told me that I could sleep in their house that night so that she could take me to the port very early the next morning. I was a little hesitant because I thought I might be abusing their hospitality. So I told her that perhaps Jun, the cousin of Don, can drive me to the port in the early morning. I thought she agreed with me but when we were eating dinner in her house by the beach, she told her husband that I will sleep there that night so that they could bring me to the port early in the morning. The doctor agreed. So, that same night after dinner, we motorbiked to my host's house to take my things then back to the house near beach.

I set my mobile phone to alarm at 5:30, the boat to Sabtang will leave at 6 am. The next morning, I was woken up by some movements, I went out from my room and saw the doctor preparing breakfast and her wife looking for a suitable jacket for me to wear. The three of us hurriedly ate breakfast and my friend packed me some sandwiches and a bottle of water... then the Doctor and I went off to the port.

They day looked promising. Its fairly clear skies but still foggy in the early morning. The ocean waves as I saw it from the port looked relatively calm.

The boat ride was only 45 minutes and this time I was not seasick. I even sat at the edge of the boat enjoying the view. There was a significant number of passengers. There were locals, there was a young Taiwanese couple, and two local tourists from Manila. When we reached the island, the whimsical weather changed again, it began to heavily rain!

I was met at the port by a lady previously contacted by the Doctor. She was carrying umbrellas, one for me and the other for herself. She asked me if I want to rent a room for the night or stay in the clinic for free. I told her, I may stay in the clinic if it is allowed. She said, "yes of course, that is practical and better".

The clinic is like a regular office at daytime. There are a few staff but no patients. I was later to learn that do not really house patients there anymore, unless it's an emergency. However, since I arrived there on a Sunday, the place was totally deserted.

That morning, there was no sightseeing because of a downpour. After some rest, the lady who met me at the port escorted me to interview a respondent. For the rest of the day, I was left alone to do as I please. It was like the whole house was mine, I cooked my own food and I had a room and a bed specially arranged for me. When the rain stopped, I went around the town and climbed the nearby hills.

Evening came, the lady who met me at the port appeared with another woman. She introduced the latter as a staff in the clinic and that if I need anything, I should not hesitate to tell her. We had a little chat, they informed me that they requested their clinic security guard to report that night to 'guard' me. I secretly thought that that was not necessary, but I could just nod my head and say, OK.

... We arrived at the house. There were already 3 people there, the lady host, the physician and his wife. I was welcomed ever warmly.. I was offered a cup of coffee, a donut, and as expected, we quickly arrived to the the usual 'question and answer session'. Although my head was still spinning, I tried my best to answer their questions intelligibly. It so happened that the physician in the group is a graduate from my Alma mater so he asked most questions about the University and if his classmates and friends are still there. After the question and answer session, they suggested I go and have some rest in the bedroom.

When I recovered after some 45 minutes rest, I had to face the 'accommodation confusion'. It is up to me they said, whether I stay in that house or stick to the previous plan. I wanted to please everybody so I was having a difficult time deciding. To make the story short, I decided to stay.

My decision proved to be the better one. For the next "research"* and sightseeing days, I was always provided with a more-than-willing guide, driver, interpreter, and a good friend, all gratis!

* I was a self-made researcher there :-), it was not pure sightseeing, mountain climbing and drinking. It actually involved some interviewing elders, it was all fun!

For the days that followed, apart from sightseeing, motorbiking up the mountain, down the mountain, along the coast, through narrow and steep roads, I conducted interviews. I was able to interview a 102 year jolly old man who shared the stories of the past. A slightly drunk grandmother puffing her tobacco and singing love songs, entertained us. Another giggly, charming grandmother tried hard to "appropriately" respond to my interview questions. I was also able to talk to the only Ivatan scholar (at that time, at least), Professor H.

...After 4 hours and 15 minutes, we finally reached Basco port.I was still very dizzy from my seasickness. But I still remembered what I was told to do by the time I reach the port. I was supposed to send a text message to the lady, Mrs. O, who voluntarily and kindly arranged a free accommodation for me in that town. I met her earlier in the morning as one of the passengers who luckily took the first flight from Itbayat.

The crew and my fellow passengers were starting to move out,I peeped outside at the people waiting. I saw two gentle looking women looking directly at me and smiling. I was very puzzled, "who are they?" Perhaps they were the people arranged by Mrs O to adopt me? But how could they know, and why did they have come to the port? That was not what I was told it would be. Perhaps they were warned earlier and they took the trouble to spare me from the trouble of contacting them myself?

When I stepped out from the boat, staggering to balance myself upright on the platform, the two women reached out for my hand for a handshake. They mumbled some introductions that I didn't quite get. I was still very numbed, wet allover and my head was whirling. They kept on talking to me while we were walking away from the port. They're kind of curious and interested about a little, solitary traveling girl (perhaps the first time in Batanes, he he he :-) for people always wondered and asked why I went alone). I was so tired and all I wanted was to rest but I still managed to ask them who they are, again. The other woman responded:

" I am the mother of Don, he sent me a message at at 1 pm today when I just arrived from Manila telling me that a 'student researcher' boarded the boat from Itbayat. My son asked me to ask my sister, his aunt who lives here, if you could stay in her house, that is if you want to ... and this is M, (introducing the other woman) my twin sister".

Whoa! so it's another arrangement after all, not the previous arrangement offered by the other generous lady I met earlier in Itbayat. So I asked the mother of Don:

"Why didn't Don tell me this when I was in Itbayat?"

She replied that Don didn't know earlier that she (his mother) had already arrived from Manila. Apparently, while I was in the middle of the sea, my new found friend, Don, had been making some arrangement for my stay in Basco. At that time, I could not be reached because I turned off my phone. Then I told them about the previous accommodation arranged by Mrs. O. They replied that they know Mrs. O, and that in fact, they are neighbors, and that I can go to her if I wanted to. So I told them I first go with them and have some rest and send a text message to Mrs O later.