On the way to Sandugan, we pass Larena’s small, sleepy town. It‘s quite hilly and has a laid back feel to it; nobody seems in a hurry here.
Our journey continues for quite a while after Larena, through a long winding road flanked by sky blue coastline and rich green forests.
At last our driver turns into a small off road. It’s deadly quiet; there’s not a soul to be seen. We pass a few farms and cottages; hear a hen cluck, a pig squeal, but that’s about it.
We then come to what I can only describe as a statement of the grotesque; a mock camouflaged fortress. It has about as much place here as an anorexic at an all you can eat buffet. It looks utterly disgusting- what the hell is it? And let’s hope it’s not the resort we plan to stay at- Islanders Paradise.
Thankfully we drive around the beastly building. I look back in revolted awe; it’s truly the vilest thing I’ve seen in the Philippines.
Anyway, to get to Islanders Paradise you have to walk down many steps with lots of cute flower pots dotted about. It looks very pretty and the beach is like something from a postcard.
I choose a cottage farthest from the rest; funnily enough named Christine (my Mum’s name). The cottage has a distinctive rustic charm about it; very cozy if not for the plastic lilies in the corner.
There are loads of dogs at this resort; we’re told not to feed them as they haven’t had their “injections”. Hmmmm. They certainly are very cute (and of course I’m going to feed them as most of them looks like skeletons).
The sea here is sort of strange- you can walk into it for miles and it will still only be up to your ankles. It’s not exactly sea to swim in (unless you’d like a face full of sand). The starfish are abundant here; you have to watch where you put your feet in places.
A guy comes over to our cottage and puts up a hammock and this is where this chapter ends really, as we do little else here on Siquijor, apart from bathe in the warmest sea water, eat some very good food, do some writing, befriend a dog, chop all of Stef’s hair off and essentially chill out to the max.
In fact, Stef’s haircut (administered by yours truly) is probably the most strenuous (if not to say traumatic) thing we’ve both done here. It takes about three hours, during which time there are many screams, tears and an altercation with my “morning glory” Korean scissors (which are incredibly blunt). It’s quite uncanny how I manage to make him look like a 1960’s soul diva in one chop and a monk in the next. And with no barbers in sight, it’s all very, very tense.
With that drama aside, it’s back to the chillaxing; Stef now a lot cooler around the neck.
Mogwai, as we like to call him due to his bizarre un-dog-like, alien ears, was definitely our most memorable experience of Islanders Paradise. For five days we had the pleasure of his loyal company. He acted as our personal sentry most nights and in return we would feed him bits of our dinner; such a lovely, good natured dog. Sadly, he had ticks and both Stef and I debated on whether we should remove them for him, but as we didn’t really know how to do that we thought it best to leave them be.
It was sad to leave him, but who knows, maybe we’ll be back to see him again someday…
