After observing monkey sex and lizards in the underground river, we boarded an outrigger boat and set sail for an island paradise. (This is the best opening I’ve ever written.)
Eventually Jen and I arrived at the island paradise resort of El Nido. You can only arrive by boat (although I guess parachute would work as well), and the best part is they play a welcome song for you on the dock as you arrive. Once arrived, your “activity director” sits you down to plan out the following day for you. Then you are shown to your air conditioned room that receives electricity 24 hrs a day (quite a luxury in island paradise). Afterwards, you are allowed to graze the giant buffet lunch served 3 times a day, every day. Then you are allowed to meet with San Miguel, which for you non-Philippine dwellers, is like meeting with Auggie Busch or Pete Coors.
Jen and I were interrupted from our building of true Philipino friendships* by another welcome song. Our colleagues (JB, Tara, Fred, and Sandy) had just arrived. I put their names down because they might read this, and people like to read about themselves. My 4 colleagues promptly told their activities director that they did not want to do any activities except “building true Philipino friendships.” This greatly hurt the feelings of their activities director, which meant the resort disliked my colleagues, but liked me and Jen. We all spent a lot of time with San Miguel on the beach, and even played an ingenious version of bocce ball throughout the resort’s restaurant and bar that involved coconuts and some acrobatics. I did not win, but I heartily thank JB for enlightening me on that game.
Jen and I used our pull to convince the resort to point their satellite skyward every morning, and set up their one television to watch the Cardinals in the World Series. Unbelievably, I was able to watch the final 3 games of St Louis’ greatest moment in sporting history. I fully represented America with a great deal of profanity, high fives, and humping the air in jubilation. You also know that the fist pump was in prime form.
We stopped scuba diving in plenty of time to fly to the next island paradise. (This was key so as not to explode on the airplane.) However, I was a little disappointed in that Sangat Island reserve was no where near as posh as our last home. I sat in my powerless, dark, sweaty hut with dejection. 30 seconds later the monkey parade began! No more than 30 feet from our hut! And what do you think those monkeys did as soon as they realized they had an audience? You guessed it. Monkey sex, Act II. These monkeys (and monitor lizards as well), were around throughout our stay. Pretty awesome until I tried to approach baby monkeys for photograph and the male leader nearly attacked me.
In all truthfulness, the highlight of this island was the scuba diving. Jen and I dove down to see half dozen giant Japanese ships sunk during WWII. Some of them over 2 football fields long. It was crazy shit.
No we are safely back in Manila. No monkeys here, but still plenty of opportunity for building true Philipino friendships.
* This is what every bottle of San Miguel says on it
Eventually Jen and I arrived at the island paradise resort of El Nido. You can only arrive by boat (although I guess parachute would work as well), and the best part is they play a welcome song for you on the dock as you arrive. Once arrived, your “activity director” sits you down to plan out the following day for you. Then you are shown to your air conditioned room that receives electricity 24 hrs a day (quite a luxury in island paradise). Afterwards, you are allowed to graze the giant buffet lunch served 3 times a day, every day. Then you are allowed to meet with San Miguel, which for you non-Philippine dwellers, is like meeting with Auggie Busch or Pete Coors.
Jen and I were interrupted from our building of true Philipino friendships* by another welcome song. Our colleagues (JB, Tara, Fred, and Sandy) had just arrived. I put their names down because they might read this, and people like to read about themselves. My 4 colleagues promptly told their activities director that they did not want to do any activities except “building true Philipino friendships.” This greatly hurt the feelings of their activities director, which meant the resort disliked my colleagues, but liked me and Jen. We all spent a lot of time with San Miguel on the beach, and even played an ingenious version of bocce ball throughout the resort’s restaurant and bar that involved coconuts and some acrobatics. I did not win, but I heartily thank JB for enlightening me on that game.
Jen and I used our pull to convince the resort to point their satellite skyward every morning, and set up their one television to watch the Cardinals in the World Series. Unbelievably, I was able to watch the final 3 games of St Louis’ greatest moment in sporting history. I fully represented America with a great deal of profanity, high fives, and humping the air in jubilation. You also know that the fist pump was in prime form.
We stopped scuba diving in plenty of time to fly to the next island paradise. (This was key so as not to explode on the airplane.) However, I was a little disappointed in that Sangat Island reserve was no where near as posh as our last home. I sat in my powerless, dark, sweaty hut with dejection. 30 seconds later the monkey parade began! No more than 30 feet from our hut! And what do you think those monkeys did as soon as they realized they had an audience? You guessed it. Monkey sex, Act II. These monkeys (and monitor lizards as well), were around throughout our stay. Pretty awesome until I tried to approach baby monkeys for photograph and the male leader nearly attacked me.
In all truthfulness, the highlight of this island was the scuba diving. Jen and I dove down to see half dozen giant Japanese ships sunk during WWII. Some of them over 2 football fields long. It was crazy shit.
No we are safely back in Manila. No monkeys here, but still plenty of opportunity for building true Philipino friendships.
* This is what every bottle of San Miguel says on it
PS: the picture seen is what happens if you google "monkey, cardinals." It is entitled "Boots the Monkey." I don't know what it is, but I can't stop laughing.
4 comments:
Ah, and how is Senor San Miguel these days? I saw his brethern at the market the other day, they looked somewhat out of place next to the English lagers and bitters...hehehe.
VIVA LA MONKEY SEX!
if memory serves you your self were accused of practicing Monkey sex in the HQ several times!!!!
I'm no monkey expert but i think its understood that all monkeys do is eat, have sex, and pick their butt when they aren't getting sex.
As for hte monkey with boots costume that is almost as great as the milkshake.
Ringo,
As a two year old, let me help you with your toddler tv pop culture. Boots is one of the coolest characters on tv!
http://www.nickjr.co.uk/shows/dora/boots.aspx
Please don't hesitate to e-mail me in the future if I can help with any other kids questions.
Kieran (aka breakdance prodigy)
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