Photo: George Strang
How a rushed, early morning airport commute at the end of two weeks in Palawan made me fall in love with the country even more.
5am is a wondrous hour of the day in the Philippines, despite being disgustingly early. Senses awaken, slowly but surely, to a thick blanket of silence. Not even birds dare to break the spellbinding peace. And there I lay on my plywood bunk in a room with one Spanish person and 4 Brits, A/C unit humming in a quiet battle to keep the heat at bay.
The moon was bright, casting shadows that danced across the wall, branches swaying gently in the breeze. Suspension in this silent wonderland was shattered in milliseconds by my dreaded phone alarm. I knew I set it, but it never fails to surprise and…alarm. My eyes shot open, ears under assault, heart racing into gear. Shit. I wondered if I woke up my roommates, and I hadn’t even hopped down the creaky ladder.
5 bleary-eyed minutes later and a dishevelled looking me was packed up, in the lobby, and nowhere near ready to face the day. Before I could say “coffee”, the jarring croak of a motorbike engine putted slowly down the unsealed alley on which I stooped, 65L backpack and all. A beaten-up yellow tuk tuk came into focus, complete with a smiling Filipino driver hanging out the side. Thankfully he wasn’t too bothered by the panicked 11.30pm booking.
“Mr. George?” He beckoned.
Image source:George Strang
Image source:George Strang
Image source:George Strang
Image source:George Strang
Image source:George Strang
Bent over with my shoulders squished and neck craned, off we went. I tried not to pay too much thought to the welded steel sheets and perspex that seemed to be the only things separating me from the very hard, very painful ground. I did my best not to bounce through the ceiling as we navigated the dirt roads of central El Nido in the hazy morning light. The amazing thing about being up that early is the lack of advanced cognitive function making almost anything tolerable.
After a couple of minutes we were flying through the jungle, the sun casting a soft ochre backdrop upon which the lush viridescent vegetation was painted. Rusted ramshackle roadside huts whizzed by in their corrugated glory, dogs and chickens idling lazily on the roadside became a blur. My driver navigated potholes and obstacles with the ease of someone who could probably do it with his eyes closed. The wind whipped at my hair and face as I leaned out the open side, waking me up like a slap in the face… but kind of a nice one?
Before I could fall in love with the rough-edged beauty of Palawan and the Philippines any more, we arrived at El Nido airport. I gave the man my last crispy Peso notes, turned, walked away, wiping away a singular tear as the reality of not having another boat trip or dive day hit like a proverbial brick wall. It truly was the best airport commute I have ever had, and made it all that much harder to leave such a magical place.
