I spent my one night in Cebu City in the cheapest of LP's recommendations. Located not far from Magellan's Cross, Ruftans Pensione is a budget place, bragged to be "the future in asian accomodation". I paid my 165p and dropped my bag in the tiny box on the fourth floor above busy Legaspi Street. The walls were loosely nailed together, and didn't quite reach the full height of the room, leaving about 10 inches at the top for sound to transmit between partitions. I locked the fragile mechanism and joined up with a Canadian fellow I had met downstairs. We set off for a nearby mall (there are 3 or something in the vicinity) for a meal of fast food dim sum, then a spell on the internet. At 35p/hr, the Net-@-pia chain is mildly more expensive than the 10p connection in Tagbilaran (suggested to be the cheapest in the world by a certain guidebook). I headed back to the 'hotel' after the sun had set, through busy dark streets full of night market vendors. Back in the room I collapsed on my lumpy bed, avoiding the stains on the sheet. There I read for awhile, finishing off Zen and the Art..., then sleeping. Later the Canadian would come by again, offering to go for a drink. Too tired from travelling to go out.

Sleep would find me, but the noise flowing over the partitions from the filipino families staying in adjacent rooms would scare it away. Lights flickered on and off, people shouted, the toilet flushed. Later somebody would be violently ill in the nearby CR. I think I was awake as much as I was asleep that night.

At 5:30 my alarm went off, signalling the official end to my slumbers, and i reluctantly got up and packed my things.

My taxi driver was a very intelligent, well spoken filipino who had travelled the world through work, and only possessed a grade 3 education. I paid him the 150p fare to Mactan Island, where I checked in for my 7:30 flight. I ate some food at a food stall in the arrival lounge, picking the giant housefly out of the stew and placing it on the side of the plate. Eat around it is my motto. Too much trouble to try and get a new meal. Not worth the effort in my current mood. Just a fly. I've eaten worse before.

My flight with Philippines Airlines to Manila was leagues better than the Zamboanga-Manila flight with Cebu Pacific. Didn't feel the coldness of genuine fear.

I arrived back in Manila and walked out to the main street, past all the airport taxi touts (who charge uber-high rates). After awhile I reached Airport road where I caught a 5peso Jeepney right to my Hostel in Paranaque. Beats the 300p taxi anyday! I greeted the familiar deskclerk and paid for two nights, then dropped my bag on one of the bunks. Off to catch a cockfight!

Apart from being The Holy Day, Sunday is the biggest day for cockfighting, and since being here in the Philippines I had yet to have seen a fight. I walked a block east, then two south to the familiar Roligon Cockpit. Per and I had tried here a few times before, but missed the action each time. This time I was determined.

I hesitated to pay the 150peso 'entrance fee' as I could see that the Filipinos were just walking in past the guard. White Man fee. Fine, it was worth it in my mind. As I entered the yelling (audible from the street) grew louder and louder. From inside this cockpit looked much like the ground level of General Motors Place in Vancouver. Almost like I was attending a hockey match... I found the main entrance and climbed the steps, navigating the crowd to see the pit below. What a sight! On a raised platform surrounded by clear glass walls was a sandy platform. Reminded my a lot of Lumphini Stadium in Bangkok.
Here's the outline of a cockfight in 392 words:
After the blood and feathers from the previous fight are swept up the next two contenders are brought out by their owners/trainers. They are tightly held in opposite ends of the square pit while another man, holding another cock, provokes the fighting cock. Their hackles flare and they struggle to get a piece of one another. Not yet, though. Just enough to get them really pissed. The provoker is allowed to peck at the fighter's underside, then the fighter reciprocates to a limited degree. After this provokation, they are allowed to run around thier corner. The provoker, still tightly held by it's master, is held out for the fighter to chase, only to be pulled to safety when the fighter is near. Soon the sheath is removed from each fighter's artificial spur, a 3-4" rasor-sharp blade tightly taped to one of the cocks feet. An official wipes the blade of each cock with a sponge soaked in poison, then they are ready. Each bird is held up for the audience to see, then the betting begins. Erupting slowly, then growing in intensity until everyone is yelling. Despite being in Tagalog, I didn't understand one word coherently; more like mumbled shouts. Fingers and hands wave and flash. I think, but am not sure, that there are individuals in the audience that entertain certain values of bets, so that one guys only arranges 500p bets, another 1500p bets... That's the best I can figure anyways. After a few minutes of betting the shouts die down and the ring master, with the microphone, announces the start of the match. The roosters are released from opposite ends. Usually they have right at 'er, and in a flurry of feathers they slash and gash one into pieces. After a few seconds one or both cocks are dead, and the last one to breath is usually the winner. Sometimes it's not so obvious who won. Sometimes the cocks lose one another in the mess and so the official picks one and places it, carefully, nearer the other. Sometimes the chicken dies in this official's hands... If the winning cock survives, it is so hysterical from injury that it is captured and carried out of the ring to be destroyed, carefully of course. Then some guy comes out to sweep up the bloody feathers, and the mayhem begins afresh.

This may qualify as the most disturbing sporting event involving poultry in the world. It is deeply disturbing to see these chickens lethally rased, their bloody carcasses dripping as they are carried out of the ring. Their meat is not edible, due to the poison, so they are buried somewhere. Matches between white cocks are the worst because the blood is immediately obvious. If a vital artery is sliced, and it happens often, then blood squirts across the sand for a moment before the fowl dies.

I don't know how the filipinos bet. If they are betting on a particular bloodline, then they have the family tree of each cock memorised; there is no publication that I saw. If they are betting based on the owner of the cock, it's not clear. If on the cock itself, its size and colour, it's not clear. What is clear is that the bets are huge. In a country where the minimum salary outlined by the government is around 200 peso/day (rest assured that not many heed the government), a 5500peso bet is unfathomable. And yet that is the minimum bet at the upcoming 15th Anniversay 7-Cock Derby. Needless to say that this sport is taken VERY seriously.

After about a dozen cocks had been horrifically destroyed before my eyes, I had to leave. It's not like there was a 'main event' to stick around for. I am not easily bothered by things like this, but feel no desire to ever see this again!

Here's some pics:

These guys weren't provoked quite enough, and they didn't get straight to it( note the razor spurs on their feet in this shot). They were soon pushed closer and quickly murdered one another. not sure who won; i think the one on top at the end.

This man looks nervous as he holds his rooster outside of the cockpit. Maybe he has seen the opponent bird...

The razor blade spurs, waiting patiently to be taped to the foot of a fighting rooster.

The crowd outside the cockpit, each clutches onto one or two roosters, queued to fight later.

Does this man look contemplative to you?

After the fight I was hungry, and so ate at the nearby McDonalds. I take it for granted now, but do you guys realise that all the fast food establishments (most abundant in the chubby Philippines) have delivery services? Here at McDo's (as it's locally known) you can order a Big Mac and McSpaghetti and have it delivered for a few pesos. Check it out. My Quarter Pounder arrived after about 10 minutes (the expensive sandwiches take longer to make because nobody can afford to eat them, though they're only 80p) and tasted undercooked. I discovered the reddish tone after I had eaten most of one, so finished. I would have to anticipate digestive problems...
Luckily they wouldn't arise. Sigh.

I later met up with my business contact here and we went out to a local play production. Oh Romeo! turned out to be a VERY well done play acted by internationally trained Filipinos. Probably the best play I've ever seen. It's premise was that Juliet woke up just before Romeo killed himself. They survived into middle age and now have a daughter. Shakespeare's ghost drops by and the ending may not be too unpredictable...

The off to a dinner of filipino cuisine, rife with interesting dishes including the obligatory "deepfried skin and intestine chop", and "blood and guts soup". Delicious when you ignore what it used to be...

Then a huge dessert of Halo Halo, an assortment of things (mango, banana, rice, jello, ube, corn, coconut, etc) added to shaved ice and thick milk cream; eaten with a spoon. Mmmmmmmm.

By nightfall I had forgotten just how bloody my sunday had been...