where would you like to go today?: Days 4-5-To Hell and Back

So this is what it feels like to die and come back as a pig.

Against our will, we were shepherded into a rickety tug boat along with countless luggages, boxes of canned goods, furniture, cushions, and hell, yeah -- buckets of ice cream. We were going to Itbayat, one of the few islands north of Batanes. Eyeball weight estimate -- I can’t even begin to estimate. All I know was that we were overloaded and water kept seeping through the bottom. Waves were as big and as strong as hell. I did manage to hold my breakfast intact in my tummy but the girl beside me couldn’t. Bummer, she kept puking her guts out through the three-hour ride.

They said when you get to the port of Itbayat, you had to ride the waves upon disembarking. There is no shoreline and the port is built along the rocky hills. Once the waves bring the edge of the boat to hit the stone step of the port, you make the jump from the boat to the port. Pardon me, but after struggling to keep my guts intact from a hellish sea ride, my mind and body coordination was at its slowest. Almost missed a step and hung on for dear life as I clutched the port boy’s hand firmly and finally found my footing. This of course, amidst a sea of laughter from other port boys, passengers, and heck just about everyone else.

At Itbayat, we stayed at the town’s one and only guesthouse, which had three rooms, a functional kitchen with fridge, gas stove, and utensils, a modestly furnished sitting area, and a small porch. I could almost feel Ian Wright here. But instead met a very low-key fellow named Nick Abad, who happened to be a congressional candidate.