Ahh yes, the night ferry. So far I have only had the thrill of this Filipino novelty on the not-so-popular Sandakan to Zamboanga route. Around 4pm Renato and I were, to borrow the words of another, "bored out of our gourds". We had wandered up and down the streets, visited a few cafes and coffee houses, booked airline tickets, surfed the internet. We laughed as we walked down one sidewalk, a block long, sporting about 10 rubber stamp vendors. If put to work they would quickly render a beautiful rubber stamp with your name and address, all from a rickety wooden stool and a homemade wooden briefcase with legs (making a table of sorts). Surely all Filipinos in need of a rubber stamp will trek to Iloilo to avail of these abundant skilled stampers!
We walked past this bank, where, if I were ever to move to the Philippines, I would promptly open an account.
Finally, enough was enough. An hour before necessary, we pulled up to the port in a taxi (which was pulled over by a traffic policeman and ticketed for illegally picking us up in a No-Loading Zone; the fine was 40p, I paid it) and manouvered our way through the crowds selling their little packets of things.

***All through the Philippines you can buy little wee packets of things. While Sari-Sari stores specialize in this art, individuals will set up a stool on the street and sell their wares, be they individual cigarettes (Renato was paying 3p for 2 sticks), individually wrapped Halls, mango candies, matches (each or by the box), cookies, small foil packets of toothpaste, tiny portions of washing powder, etc...***

We allowed our luggage to be searched by metal-detecting wand, by hand, then by dogs, then proceeded into the waiting lounge. It wasn't long before we were allowed to board the vessel, which was about a third as large as the Zambo ferry. We found our Economy deck about as I had expected it: rows of bunkbeds sandwiched together on a short deck, the sides open to the wind and sea. I claimed bunk 17 and Renato the one below, and I promptly lay down and closed my eyes. Down on the land there were dozens of men busily unloading flatdeck trucks and loading pallets onto the boat; noisy clanking and machinery, yelling, honking. Surprisingly I slept a bit.
As the people piled on and the daylight dimmed, our departure time came, then went.

Finally it seemed we were off. Looking over my feet at the view off the Economy deck I could see that the lights were indeed moving. As I watched the city lights dim to sparsely populated coastline, an announcement over the loudspeaker surprised me. The Departure Prayer, read by captain's assistant asked God for his blessings on our voyage, that we sail free from danger and without incidence. Thank you also for our daily bread. There was more to it than that, but I was a bit too shocked to take it all in. I hoped aloud to Renato that they rely on more than just prayers to ensure the safety of the ferry trip, maybe like radar and regular service checks...
After the prayer, I got up for a bit of a wander around the ship. To my surprise I spotted a westerner over the tops of the bunks on the far side of the ship. Ducking the whole way to avoid collision with the steel rafters, I made my way over to the guy and two girls. They had just come from Kalibo and managed to make it to the ferry just on time (unlike me the day before). I helped them find their beds, in the tourist bunks below (aircon, brrr!), and after a quick introduction continued on my walk around the boat. I caught up with them later in the ship's restaurant, where I met the fourth of their group. Together with Renato we enjoyed a well cooked meal and some delicious Red Horse, a welcome change from all the SMB (though brewed by SM). Marc was from Hamburg, Mila was from Stuttgart, Veronika was from near Baden-Baden (!!!), and Kourosh was from Iran; they all lived and worked in Manila. We ended up staying up quite late, lying on the economy deck with the wind in our hair. Around us, most everyone else was sound asleep. As we sailed on in the night, rocking from side to side and bucking slightly with each big wave, the lights of Panay, then Negros could be seen glowing on the horizon. After discussing Canada at great lengths we all found our way back to our bunks, where we each cuddled up on our own thin plastic mattress.
Sleep did not come easily, and once it did come there was some reason to wake up. I needed several trips to the CR to deal with a lingering problem I've had in the Philippines.

Around 4am the roosters began hollering full blast. Some people felt the need to transport their cocks from Iloilo to Cebu, perhaps for an upcoming fight. One gentleman went to the trouble of reserving an economy bed (650p, unless he got an underage discount) for two cocks-in-boxes. They were very happy here. Amidst the cries of these two and probably 6 others, my sleep was interrupted all morning. Grumbling I finally 'woke up' to the bright sun on my feet (which dangled off the bed into the narrow walkway).

An announcement pierced the morning air and told all passengers that the free breakfast was now available. I didn't move. Free meals are usually so bad that I regret eating them for a long time. Marc came over and I later joined him with the others on another part of the ship, but for the first time this trip, seasickness caused me to return to my bunk.

We soon approached Mactan Island on our left side, and Cebu City began to take form on the right. Under a few bridges connecting the airport (on Mactan) and the city, and soon we were docking. Every ferry terminal is plagued with an abundance of very poor people. Whenever a ferry arrives they scramble into their tiny canoes and paddle out to the side of the ship where they dive for coins thrown by bored passengers waiting to disembark. Sadly this provides great entertainment to the relatively richer Filipino passengers. I think most of the western travelers agree that it is slightly disturbing...

I met with the group of Manilans and, after bidding adieu to Renato, we five set off for the nearby pier to find the SuperCat ferry to Bohol. After a relatively sleepy and uneventful journey (they did have quite a good televised prayer that you could read along with, then played a really terrible remake of Peter Pan) we docked in the turquoise waters of Tagbilaran. Marc and the others set off for the nearby island of Panglao and I found a jeepney to Carmen, a town at the heart of The Chocolate Hills.

*****

A bad shot of the Videoke screen in the minivan from Caticlan to Iloilo.

Housing near the Port of Iloilo.

If you have an emergency in the Philippines you can text 117 for help, as indicated by this sign in downtown Iloilo.