forest and the base of the cave.
These caves were used by her
grandparents and other residents of
Silop during World War II as hiding
places. As a kid, our guide used to
play in them with her friends. If not
for the cemented stairway leading to
the mouths of a series of three cave
systems, it would be a thoroughly
enchanting forest, with colorful
butterflies fluttering by and strange
birdcalls echoing overhead. Our guide
reminds us to ask permission from
the spirits who live in the forests; dire
consequences of impolite intrusion
include severe skin diseases or some
kind of palsy. I remember this custom
of acknowledging the forest’s unseen
beings all too well — one classmate
once showed up to class with his face
seemingly bent out of proportion.
He’d been slapped by a tree spirit —
according to his mother — for peeing
against a tree. The general feeling
among my schoolmates was that he
was still pretty lucky and things could
have been much worse.
Punishments seem to have
mellowed over the years. One
previous group of tourists, our guide
now tells us, had made such a racket
that it annoyed the spirits. The flash
of their cameras then refused to go
off inside the caves, but once outside
began working just fine.
Leaving the hillside forest of Silop,
we drive across the city to the floating
village of Day-asan for a cruise along
the mangrove forest. This forest used
to be much bigger, a resident tells
us, but because they were used to
make firewood, it has since shrunk
considerably. Still, what remains is a
picturesque panorama that turns even
more beautiful in the filtered light of
late afternoon.
Again we ask for a guide. There’s a
bit of a flurry as the locals call out to
who might be available, and finally,
Top to bottom:
Motorized
outriggers and
canoes are the
only means of
transport around
the floating village;
Johnrod looks out
for rocks on the
shallow depths;
a typical balcony
in Day-asan
S U S T A I N A B L E S U R I G A O
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