Leaving one island to get to another

I see one of the most beautiful places I have ever laid eyes on

Helen and I meet 2 Canadians the next night on the island: Dan from London, and Caroline from Vancouver. They are both law students studying in Hong Kong for a semester. We get along splendidly. We are soon inseparable. Dan and I teach Helen and Caroline Euchure and it quickly becomes a big part of our time on the island (in memory of you, Grandma).

We play Euchre a lot, even while we wait for food to come at the restaurant

One morning we get on a boat together and take an hour and half ride to some supposedly exotic island. I hate to sound spoiled, but I was quite non chalant. I’ve seen tons of gorgeous scenery, and while I would never want to say I’m immune to it, I am prepared to see more of the same.

Normally not into posting pics of me in my swim trunks, but Helen did capture what I've pretty much been doing for 2 weeks...

Boy was I wrong.

This island is incredible. There’s no one else to be seen and it’s completely untouched. It’s actually preserved by the government and uninhabited. It really feels like paradise, as cliche as that sounds. Due to the fact that it’s completely natural, so beautifully unspoiled, it turns out to be one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen.

Gorgeous stuff

We swim and lounge and our boat drivers make us a delicious lunch of barbecued chicken, whole fish staring us us with their dead eyes, and rice. We do like the locals and eat with our fingers. Eating rice with my fingers is not easy.

Barbecued fish (eyeballs included) and chicken for lunch

The young guys driving the boat invite us to a bonfire on the beach later that night. We jump at the chance to hang out with some locals. It’s Friday night which apparently means “disco night” and they are excited.

Unexpected Evening Entertainment

That night we are enjoying some dinner when we hear some bells walking on the main path, only a few feet from where we’re sitting. Walking towards us is an entourage of Filipino girls dressed quite garishly and skimpily. Sequined mini skirts with matching small, belly baring tops seem to be their outfits of choice, in various colors. They stop in front of us, music starts playing from somehwere, and they boistously perform a syncronized dance for us. They come closer and suddenly we realize what was going on.

The Whispering Tranny and his friends "dazzle" us with some dancing and fire breathing

Lady boys! In Boracay it was fairly common to see Filippino men dressed as women (and hot ones at that), but we hadn’t witnessed that on this small, less touristy island. These lady boys do it well- they have perfectly shaped shaved legs, flat stomachs, wear tops with padding, and sometimes wigs if they haven’t grown their own shiny, long, lustrous black hair. So this isn’t exactly new to us, but we haven’t actually been entertained by a group of them before like this, dancing their hearts out in sync like a very poor version of the Backstreet Boys in drag.

They step their “show” up a notch. Fire breathers enter the mix. Someone starts doing cartwheels. The grand finale is when some guy does the splits vertically and somehow manages to keep this form while he sort of manuevers and bounces around the tables on the ground. His hair is sticking up through his wig, which happens to be long, black and crimped. They are all smiling widely and looking at us provacatively. I have a problem with uncontrollable laughter at times, and I turn my back a few times because I can’t contain myself.

The lady boys approach our table. Helen is closest to them. One guy (girl?) leans towards Helen suggestively and says in the worst, lowest, funniest, “I’m a guy trying to sound like a sexy girl” voice, “Excuse me. We’re trying to raise some money for an extravaganza in the village.” It’s almost a whisper. I watch Helen stare at him with big eyes and say, “Pardon?” a cigarette in one hand. I observe the lady boy up close and he has the worst make up job I have ever seen- it’s caked on like icing. I notice that Caroline and Dan are conveniently looking away and poor Helen must fend for herself. It’s too much and I can’t help it. I burst out laughing in front of all the cross dressers. Loud, uncontrollable laughs. I look away. I feel awful. I mean, my new Canadian friends aren’t laughing out loud at them. I know this is rude. But the whole scene is so ridiculous: the bad make up job, Helen’s deer-caught-in-the-headlights stare and the guy’s attempt at a sexy voice…I just cannot help myself.

I’m almost in tears from laughter long after the fact, and all night I giggle about it. Dan or Caroline or Helen just need to say “Excuse me,” in a ridiculous, low, whispery voice and I lose it all over again.

Helen dubs him “The Whispering Tranny” and he pretty much provides entertainment for us via stories and reenactment for the duration we’re on the island.

Chillin’ With the Locals

The locals seem to love it that we're hanging out with them

Attending the bonfire with the locals is an experience. We all march into the primitive village to buy a few party items- some drinks, snacks, etc. They lead us to the beach there and the walk is black as a hole. We keep stumbling over things while they light matches for us to be able to see where we’re going. They inform us that we’re walking though a cemetery. It’s too dark to see much, but I’m pretty certain these aren’t tombs like we’re used to back home.

We sit on the beach and enjoy their bonfire made of coconut leaves and talk about their culture and stare at the myriad of stars and finally stop gasping when we see shooting stars because there are so many.

The boys are amusing without trying. They love to sing, specifically cheezy love songs. Almost every statement or word turns into a song and they sing almost the whole thing, word for word.

By the end of the night we have been serenaded by some of their apparent favorites: Angel by Shaggy, How Do I Live by Leann Rhymes, Always by Bon Jovi, Everything’s Gonna Be All Right by Bob Marley and a smattering of other songs that you would NOT expect a bunch of 19-21 year olds to love. Their singing is good; it’s amazing how many words they know and they even harmonize. But the way they have a song for every statment or word we say is quite hilarious.

Soon it’s time to check out the local disco. We walk past the cemetery again, and one of the boys says to me, “Check it out.” I turn towards his voice as he lights a match. The momentary flicker of light is enough for me to clearly see what is so briefly illuminated: a skull is staring right at me from a bucket, surrounded by a pile of bones.

The (unexpected) things you never see back home

Truth is stranger then fiction.

The disco is a spot on the beach with blaring speakers and 2 80′s style club lights. It’s like high school dances in reverse. The locals girls watch shyly as about 15 local boys are busting moves–or attempting to–on the “dance floor”. We foreigners crash the floor and they love it. So do we. It’s a random night and I couldn’t make this sort of sequence of events up if I tried.