Guimaras island and a bad resort

So today I decided to take a vacation.  I had to really talk myself into it... I mean, I'm not here for vacation!  I'm here for research!  And EVERY DAY there's something I could be doing!

But as of last night, my best-case scenario schedule for today involved touring a coal-fired power plant and interviewing a disaster-relief activist... neither of which, you will note, is really related to my research subject.  And I was tired.  And stressed out.  And, apparently, emotionally drained or something.  And Guimaras Island was 15 minutes away, and there was a beach resort highly recommended by my guidebook that cost exactly 2 dollars more than my cheap downtown hotel, so what other excuses did I have, huh?  huh?

And after that antagonist exchange with myself I packed my bags, boarded a boat, and went on a beautiful tricycle ride through the mango-growing, rainforested island of Guimaras. (Maybe this would be a good time to note that tricycles are motorcycles with passenger-carrying attachments... like sidecars on steroids.  Not, actually, little red trikes for kids.  Just to clarify).

So I arrived at this resort - a collection of individual bamboo cottages on an idyllic cove - to find it was empty.  Almost completely empty... me, two staff members, a cat, a dog, and a bunch of chickens comprised the entire guest list.  Furthermore, what my Lonely Planet described as a "warm, friendly, family-run" resort was looking kind of like a poorly-maintained, poorly-managed dump.  A dump, I will note, on an absolutely BEAUTIFUL patch of real estate.  I reminded myself of this after finding bird shit on my bed, and discovering that the resort's sole (!) snorkel mask was leaky, and that they no longer had sailboats to rent out, and that even the hammocks were old and absurdly uncomfortable.  Also, it was raining.  I am really good at taking vacations, friends.  Anyway, I told myself, look at the turquoise water!  And the sandy beach!  The rocky cliffside, the view from your balcony, the rainforest!

And the food is delicious - fresh fish and shrimp and crabs, cooked by some guy who for some reason won't put on anything but boxer shorts but is, whatever his attire, a hell of a chef.  So, as you can imagine, that has cheered me up enormously.

Tonight at dinner - oh man am I bad at eating crabs, in case you were wondering, they are like tiny scraps of deliciousness trapped in STEEL SAFES - I learned the reasoning behind the resort's failing condition.  It turns out it is not just that Lonely Planet sucks... this is, in fact, what happens to a warm family-run operation when the marriage at the heart of that family falls apart.  In a country where divorce is illegal.

My dinner companions (who eventually arrived to break the scary silence of a resort with only me in it) were a charming Spainard, his friendly Filipina girlfriend and her two sisters.  Side note - this is a really discombobulated post, sorry for my lack of structure, I'M ON VACATION - I got to practice my spanish!  His English seemed about as good - which is to say as weak - as my Spanish, so either we talked in English and he pretended to understand, or we talked in Spanish and I pretended to understand, and I think I was a better faker.  Have you ever tried to have a discussion about the current economy of China and the reasons behind the American embargo on Cuba... in Spanish?  Have you??  It is hard.  Now you know.

His girlfriend, of course, showed us both up by being fluent in English and Spanish.  And Ilonggo.  And, I presume, Tagalog.  Oh, and working on Chinese.  And also she was beautiful and clearly brilliant.  God damn.

ANYWAY, he is filthy rich or something because he said he has been trying to talk the owners into selling the place to him, but there's lots of legal complications what with them being separated at all.  And suddenly it all made more sense - why guests were avoiding it, why the place was falling apart (because why invest in something you aren't sure if you'll own for much longer, and when if you sell, you'll only get 50% of the value?) and why the owners weren't there and even some weird parts about the text-versation i'd had to reserve my room.

But a failed marriage cannot make Guimaras less beautiful, I am pleased to report, nor can it make fresh seafood less inherently delicious, nor the sound of the waves less relaxing.  So the report from the Philippines today is, if not an unqualified and enthusiastic shout for joy, at least a peaceful sigh.