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I drive only when I really have to.
You not only have to watch out for
pedestrians and other vehicles, but
also for dogs, chickens, goats and
other animal life. Once I found myself
honking my horn like a madwoman at
an errant cow.
I remind my husband of the
phenomenon we discovered 10 years
ago, when I went through adjustment
pains after moving to France. We
must all be going through some kind
of culture shock, I tell him. It will pass.
To reassure ourselves we look to Lilou,
who has developed a tendency to
grab the local kids instead after trying
unsuccessfully to communicate with
them, but she has at least stopped
screaming. She now also insists, “Je
m’appelle
Le
lou.”
Cebu Pacific flies from Manila to
Tagbilaran.
the Sunday market of Antequera have
filled the home we are now renting with
baskets woven from vine, bamboo and
grass. We’ve gone as far as Tubigon to
see the women who weave buri.
It’s the local artisans who take pride
in their work that are most inspiring
for us. If you ask for a design that the
weavers can’t do, they immediately
show you a gallery of other options,
and a brilliant choice of colors at that.
You say you need it in seven days? It’s
done by then. These are professionals
who know their stuff.
In order to make regular visits to
these artisans, and to get about, we’ve
bought a beat-up old Kia. Pierre, who’s
driven on four different continents, gets
nervous when he gets behind the wheel
here. He never knows what’s coming;
almost no one uses their lights to signal
a change of lane or a turn. Pedestrians
detest the grass on the roadside, and
walk right on the streets, oblivious
to overloaded buses and zigzagging
motorcycles coming right at them. And
what’s with the tricyles, he wants to
know? They insist on rolling along the
middle of the road, right between the
two lanes.
I S L A N D L I V I N G
Live the
laid-back life in
Panglao island
Above: Local
kids on their way
home from school;
weaving is one of
the prime industries
in Bohol
