Don't Tell My Mother

Our second day at Puerto Princesa, Palawan was a fun adventure. When we climbed into our tour van, we picked up three more tourists traveling with us. They happened to be the same three guys from the day before! Thrilled, we all began to make jokes with each other and knew the day would not be a let-down…even though it was rainy.
We began our trip with a visit to the cathedral. The Philippines is very catholic. I thought it would be more Muslim, but Christianity is booming here.

The cathedral was built in the 60s and outside of it was the “lover’s park” which was ironically also where people were burned. But because of the language barrier I have no idea why. Two poor boys, shirtless, begged for money at the door of the church while a newborn was at the alter far ahead being baptized along with her family. The poverty here is apparent and will quickly put your life in perspective.There is show on the National Geographic TV channel titled, “Don’t Tell My Mother.” This day at Puerto Princesa is an episode of said TV show.
The middle of our tour we edge a farm in which the prisoners of Palawan (around 4,000) do their daily work. They have three role calls a day, we learned. If they do not come to one roll call, they get sent to “The Room” in which there is a containment room in which they stay with no light and little food for up to a year! Glad that we were on the road and not close to the prisoners, I start photographing the area. Abruptly we clamber to a stop at a large fence. Jay, our tour guide, says he needs a volunteer. Confused as to why he may need a volunteer and why we were stopped at a fence which looked like a road to the prison house, I froze. “What? A Volunteer for what?” we asked, puzzled. He needed a volunteer to represent us. I bit nervous, and trying to shake the fear, I joke, “you mean a sacrifice?!” Laughing, Leo gets out and goes into the fence. What is going on?! We have no idea. He makes it back safe just after I realize that we are actually going INTO the prison.
As seen in movies of men chained together working the fields in stripped outfits, here we ride past lines of men in brown, blue, and orange shirts that mark your severity as a prisoner. They are working the rice fields and scary beyond reason. Karina begs me to close the window as we approach prisoners in the van. I obey gladly. We actually tour the fields and the prison facilities. It ends with a funny prison cut out and souvenir shop full of arts and crafts hand made by prisoners themselves and sold by minimum prisoners to buy soap and heath items. Sheesh! It was amazing!




Here are some more pictures from the prison experience:

This is art by one of the prisoners:

Ha...Environmentalist...They actually have cutouts of themselves...

Following the Prison tour, after I thought I had seen the craziest thing in my life, I was proven wrong. That was just the beginning of the most unexpected event I thought I would ever encounter on a “City Tour”. We pull up to the island’s Wildlife Reserve. We are there to go to the crocodile farm!

If you have known me for the past two months, you will have known about the salt water crocodile story. The story, I admit, I have tried to spread to all I know as much as possible in the past two months. The story in which will keep me from visiting the lusted after Andaman Islands in the Indian Ocean. The story in which will ever haunt my ability to ever go diving. This story, if you haven’t heard it, will change your perception too. If you are he who has been denied the experience, you can view some of what I know as the crocodile killer here: Salt Water Demon.
Upon entering this crocodile farm, what is the FIRST thing I am introduced to? The largest Salt water crocodile ever found was located in the same island I was grounded on that very moment. And the largest captured left his remains right there in front of my eyes, skin on the wall and bones in a case. He had to be killed because he “accidentally” ate someone! WHAT! Was she defending this awful, man-eating creature?!
This was just the beginning. As much as I was terrified at the bones and skin remains that fronted my eyes, the next site was a stroke in a hand basket. Not only did they house this large monster, THEY RAISED THEM! HUNDREDS OF THEM! It was no ordinary crocodile farm; this was strictly a SALT WATER CROCODILE FARM. I walked into a room lined with what looked like hundreds of bathtubs FILLED with crocodiles. Following the breading haven, we walked the plank above the more aged SWCs. Scare beyond all reason. My heart was pounding the whole time and the only reaction I knew besides busting into fearful tears was to laugh. So I laughed and laughed and laughed, and then I cried. Not only that, but at one point, I slipped and fell and was bitten by a SWC itself!

For thirty pesos you could get your picture taken holding one of these creatures. Hell no. That was all I could think when the offer stood. I ran the complete different way and tried to lighten the mood with a cut out of a monkey.
Upon leaving the farm, they tried then to sell me crocodile creations in the souvenir shop. It was like a child’s nightmare of a room full of scary clowns, only this was a real nightmare full of man-eating monsters!


Once on the van back home, my soul rested as we furthered the farm. We finished with a delightful pinacolada and coconut fish with a side of eggplant and shrimp. We flew home for an hour sleep or two before my training cranked up again.

Last night, I went with the Gates team out for some incredible Vidaoke. I will end this blog for now and continue tomorrow with explanations of vidaoke!

Till tomorrow,
Hailey