The Magic of Malapascua (part 1)

Sometimes when you arrive at a place, you find that it is full of magic.  It is not necessarily filled with ancient structures to be revered, or dazzling skylines as a testament to the clever engineering capabilities of its humans.  The place may not be studded with snow topped mountains, awe inspiring waterfalls, or pristine beaches.  Yet, when you arrive, you can feel it- palpable in the air.  It makes you tingle a bit.  Your smile is reflected in the face of another and magnified ten-fold.  This is where the magic lies.

When we booked our trip to Malapascua Island in the Philippines it was a spur of the moment decision, stemming from the need for some sun, water, and good scuba diving.  We chose Malapascua not only because is was off the main tourist trail, but also because it offered prime opportunities to dive with thresher sharks. Monad Shoal and Gato Island, located just off the coast, have recently earned the distinction of being the first shark and manta ray sanctuary in the Philippine archipelago.  Music to our ears…  Little did we know that there was so much more to this tiny island in the Visayan Sea…

We made arrangements through Evolution Divers for a private ride to pick us up at our Cebu City hotel, where we had crashed for a few hours after rolling in on a red-eye flight.  It was to drive us to the docks on the northern tip of Cebu Island, where we would then embark on the 30 minute boat ride to our final destination.  I stepped out into the early morning air, already damp and hanging heavy on my skin, into the back of a nicely air conditioned SUV, and the journey began.

The main artery clung close to the east side of Cebu and felt dangerously narrow as we sped through villages and towns.  There were no sidewalks.  Houses, schools and shops did their best to hug the road as tightly as possible.  Local dogs soaked up the sun on the edges of the pavement; and children, walking in clusters, dressed in perfectly pressed uniforms with glowing white socks spilled out into the street on their way home.  They looked rather out of place against a backdrop of dirt roads, tiny houses, and shacks with corrugated metal roofs.  The colours of rust, old wood, grey metal, and mud.  A brightly painted window sill, now faded.  The green of a palm tree, a patch of deep blue sky, and a glimpse of the ocean.  It was beautiful.  I realized that I was holding my breath- simultaneously terrified and captivated.  I concentrated on the scenes unfolding outside of my window as the driver swerved expertly without slowing down… somehow managing to avoid all the dogs, all the children, and even the crowds of people collecting outside of the markets. Motorbikes, piled four to a ride, hummed along, stopping here and there to pick up or drop off passengers.  We wooshed by them too, pressing on toward the port of Maya- which was a least a two hour drive from Cebu City… depending on the traffic. (Insert nervous laughter here.)  Clusters of pencil thin palm trees cut striking silhouettes.  Unlikely convenient stores with weather worn Coca-cola signs sprouted up.  More dogs. So many dogs.  Chickens.  Women selling baskets, bananas, grilled things.  We sped on… until in front of us appeared only a vast expanse of blue.

Tottering toward the boat on a small wooden plank, everything shifted in time with the ocean’s tides.  We were off- skimming along the blue green, under the sun, under the blue blue sky.  Warm droplets sprinkled my skin and left the faintest taste of salt on my lips.  It already felt like paradise, and we hadn’t yet arrived.  Malapascua came into view: big umbrellas dotted the beach and a spattering of boats bobbed off the shoreline.  From my vantage point, the coastline looked like a postcard for any number of ‘destination islands.’  A string of colourful resort buildings were lined up on the water- ready to be filled.  We transferred to a smaller boat and pulled up onto the sand in front of Evolution Dive Resort where we were greeted by a very welcoming group of dive masters and other employees.  Introductions were made, details were sorted, and a briefing for the first dive of our vacation was given; whereupon we promptly ditched our gear, changed into some proper island wear, and went off to explore.

We started our walk by following along the coast, passing one dive shop after another.  Thresher sharks are big business here, and the main source of tourist dollars as the island lacks the gorgeous expanse of sandy beaches that have made places like Boracay household names. I was happy to be visiting during the low season: there were just a few handfuls of other travelers on the island and everything felt quiet and intimate.  I wondered where the locals lived- where the village was- and if either really existed here, or if it was just one big dive resort.  At the southern tip, where the string of tourist spots had finally come to an end, a group of men were gathered in an empty lot.  They were deeply involved in the building of a small fishing vessel- with no power tools in sight.  Wood was being shaped with masterful skill and sharp bladed knives.  Curls of shavings quickly piled up on the ground at their feet.  The rhythm of the scraping and sanding seemed to match that of the ocean’s surf.  I took this as a sign that we should make our way inland, so we picked a small path between two buildings, only slightly wider than the width of our bodies and followed it…

On the other end it was like another world.  Vibrant and teeming with life.  Barefoot children congregated in packs on the dirt road that cut a swathe through town.  Worn greys and rusty hues were off set by bright pops of colour.  There were strings of laundry baking in the sun, and lazy pups taking siestas on the steps of convenient stores selling soda pops, chips, and Red Horse (the local brew).  Large roosters with glossy plumes strutted in almost every yard- ankles tethered with short leashes, a sure sign that they were somebody’s prized possession, and most likely players in a local fighting arena.  A turn, another turn.  A square of land where a building once stood- twisted rebar rising up out of concrete remnants.

We turned again- the road narrowing to no more than a dusty trail through tall grasses.  Dramatic clouds rolled in.  The sky turned a silvery grey and the light shifted.  Everything seemed to glow from the inside.  Electrified.  The patchwork houses peppering the landscape took on the qualities of a painting.  Their variegated textures and hues all seemed to tell stories- like the deep set lines in the palm of an experienced hand.  The grasses started to whisper in the wind.  Thinking that we might be in for a storm, we started to make our way back toward the coast, and before long found ourselves in another outcropping of local businesses.

Just ahead a single table was set up outside of a tiny shack directly across from a large plot of land that had been cordoned off by barbed wire.  A hand drawn sign dangled off the fence: “this way to the beach.”  It looked forlorn.  We stopped, lingering for a moment to watch as three young children scrambled over piles of dangerous looking rubble.  Chunks of cement block.  Hunks of metal.  Wood.  Even a toilet.  I cringed when I noticed that they were not wearing shoes, and immediately began to worry about their safety- imagining the worst.  On an island without a hospital, or even a local doctor, this playground of theirs seemed like an especially bad idea.  My heart felt a little melancholy while I watched them play- not at all weighted down by the world- their world, that was literally in crumbles at their feet.

A voice from behind asked if we would like a beer.  We turned to see that a lovely woman had appeared.  I hadn’t noticed earlier, but there was a row of sun-faded liquor and beer bottles on a shelf in the shack that we were standing in front of.  She apologized- explaining that a storm was settling in over Cebu, and had prevented the regular deliveries from being made.  There was only one choice, and it was warm to boot.  Of course we didn’t mind, and happily accepted the invitation.  We exchanged introductions with the woman, Josephine- chatting a bit about where we were from, scuba diving, and thresher sharks.  All the while she was busily hand sanding wooden carvings of the island’s most famous fish.  I think that she noticed that I kept staring at the piles of debris across the way. “That is where my house was,” said Josephine.  We looked at her, eyes wide: “What happened?”

 

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