The trip across to the port town of Allen on Samar went by quickly and pleasantly – at least once we got moving. The loading had taken many hours and we left hours after the departure time I had been given. The Penafranca boat had left long ago and likely had already arrived in Allen. Once we were moving and there was a breeze, I went up to the highest deck for the views. There was no roof up there and the sun was relentless, but with the ocean breeze it was bearable and, in fact, more comfortable than being on the lower decks. Only a few other passengers braved the sun and went up there. One of them was a friendly 25-year-old guy and he engaged me in conversation. Well, it wasn’t so much a conversation as a speech. He had a lot on his mind, and I got the impression that he was known among his friends and family for pontificating.

He was a bus driver (though he didn’t seem to be aware of the dumb foreign cyclist causing all the bus parking problems), and he was quite into his job. He told me at length about how he was responsible for not only the lives of his passengers but for the lives of all the people on the road. So he drove carefully. He also took care of himself – eating right and getting enough rest – so that he was alert on the road. He asked me the usual questions, starting with the one about why I had no companions. I was feeling feisty after the episode with the bike, and I told him that I had met hundreds of people in the Philippines and every single person had asked me that same question. The bus driver then explained that in the Philippines, it was very important to spend time with friends and family. They had fun together, and to go somewhere alone would be unthinkable. But I was a foreigner, he told me, and I valued independence and freedom and I didn’t need companions to enjoy myself.

I pointed out to my bus driver friend that he had just answered his own question. He agreed with me that he had. This reinforced my idea that people were not really asking me questions, and I resolved in the future to not worry about being rude by not answering them. People were not really asking me why I had no companions. They were simply pointing out that it was weird and uncommon in the Philippines to travel alone. So I can just nod at their question and safely ignore it. It’s more of a statement than a question.

I found that I was quite nervous as the ferry approached the shore of Samar. I didn’t know why that would be. Perhaps it was because I had read a number of times that Samar was pretty wild and undeveloped. I didn’t know what to expect there, and the unknown will always create a bit of fear. But before I had to deal with the wilds of Samar, I got to enjoy the coin divers at the port of Allen. If Matnog had been the opening act, the coin divers at Allen were clearly the main event. They put the divers at Matnog to shame.

There were two or three ferries already at the docks at Allen, and my ferry did some fancy maneuvering to turn around and work its way into its slot facing the right direction. Young boys were swarming all over the other boats and the waters below were filled with other boys. The stars of the show were the boys who climbed up to the very top of the ferry and dove from there. I wasn’t sure of the exact height, but the roof was four decks above the water and with each deck a solid nine or ten feet high, the boys were diving from a height of forty feet. Anyone who thinks that isn’t high has never stood above the water from a height like that. It’s intimidating, and these boys weren’t simply jumping off. They were doing back flips and front flips. Even for them, it was a bit of a challenge, and they had to work up their courage to do it. It was also their job, and they ran back and forth on the roof calling down to the passengers on the deck directly below them and calling for money. I couldn’t figure out how that worked, because I didn’t see any money changing hands. The boys were clearly trying to get the crowd excited about their dive and were working the crowd for money, but I didn’t see anyone hand the boys money directly. And once the boys completed their dive, any money thrown was fair game for all the boys and was not reserved just for that diving boy. I imagined that the boys did it for the thrill as much as for the money. I got out my camera and I managed to capture one or two images of the boys right in the middle of a flip as they went down.

A group of older boys stayed on the roof of the ferry even as it left the dock. They stayed with the ferry for quite a long ways out into the ocean. Then they dove overboard and made the long swim back to shore. It was an act of bravado and marked them as the tough guys of the group.

We passengers had to wait until all the buses and trucks had been unloaded before we could disembark. I waited until almost the very end, I was so entertained by all the coin-diving boys. I almost left it too late, in fact, and I had to rush to untie my bike and get off the ferry. Ropes were being loosened and the ramp was sliding backwards and forwards when I reached it. There was a group of men there, but no one seemed to care about me one way or the other and they continued their work of untying the ropes. The ferry was lurching from side to side and the ramp was sliding around and nearly knocked me off my feet as I tried to get down. I had no idea what was going on. The ferry had not loaded up and was clearly not ready to depart. Yet it was departing – at least moving – and if I had waited just a few more seconds, I would have been departing with it. The end of the ramp was sliding around on the dock and the rear wheel of my bike whipped off to the side as I jumped my front wheel from the ramp to the dock. The gap got wider and I was lucky to make it without being tossed to the ground or into the water or getting my foot caught in between. Perhaps this was their revenge for my delaying the loading of the buses?

Allen was, thankfully, less frantic than Matnog had been, and I rode my bike out of the port and up and down the main street. Allen was also clearly less developed. The town had a grittier, dirtier, wilder aspect than anyplace I’d seen on Luzon. The road had more potholes. Buildings looked more worn and dilapidated. I found a nice eatery and, having had only four buns to eat all day, I ordered two complete meals. I ordered one meal with rice, a vegetable, and a meat dish. And when it was done, I got back up and ordered a complete second meal. I was also thinking ahead, and if I decided to cycle out of Allen and camp out somewhere along the way, I wanted to start off with a full stomach – maybe full enough that I would comfortably be able to make it through a night without dinner.

I could have stayed in Allen overnight (I assumed there was some kind of lodging somewhere), but there was nothing about the town to encourage lingering. The next big town along the coast road was Calbayog. My original idea was to take the ferry across and then ride to Calbayog. With the ferry taking 90 minutes to make the crosssing, I figured I’d have plenty of time. But that didn’t include the hours and hours of delay, and when I arrived in Allen, it was already between one and two in the afternoon. I wasn’t sure if that left enough time to get to Calbayog. Either way, there seemed no point in staying in Allen. I had done no cycling at all that day, and I was still full of energy. I got on my bicycle and set off down the road.

The road started off fairly level and hugged the coast, passing through beautiful scenery. The land was green and lush with pleasant villages here and there. Wide rivers came down out of the interior of Samar and I passed over them on bridges affording wonderful views of all the boats and houses crowding the shore. There were a number of beach resorts on the stretch of road just outside of Allen, but I passed them by and kept moving.

People were alternately friendly and astonished as I cycled past. The friendlly ones called out “Hey, Joe!” and “Where are you going?” The astonished ones simply stood or crouched at the side of the road and stared with blank, wide eyes, their jaws hanging open and loose. Even my waves and shouts of “Hello” couldn’t shake them out of the state of shock my appearance put them in. Their heads turned slowly and their eyes followed my progress, but beyond that they didn’t react. The sight of my bicycle and all its bags seemed to freeze their brain.

 

Tags: bike, job, Philippines Bike Trip 2013, West Coast of Samar