Mission Mom's Vacation Memoirs of Dumagete

February 27, 2011

“Home again, home again, jiggedy jig!” As fun as it is to travel, it’s comforting to be home. We have spent the last three days with Lina and Hartmut Wolf in Dumagete, or more specifically, at their home in Sibulon and then on the island of Siquijor (Pronounced Sig-a-hor). Wolfs are wonderful members of the Church; they travel for about 5 hours each way to come to the temple, and they come once a month, staying for the whole week to work as ordinance workers. They are both converts to the Church; he grew up in Germany, came to the Philippines, was baptized after receiving the missionary lessons and met and married his wife who was not a member, but later joined. He has a daughter from a previous marriage who is a flight attendant and she has a son and a daughter who is 29 and who will be released from serving a mission in another few months. He has served in the mission presidency and they both are pillars of strength in their branch. We attended church with them today in Sibulan. The Branch President, Charlie Cavile, had come to the temple to receive his own endowment in January and remembered that it was Larry who had assisted him. Larry was asked to be the main speaker in Sacrament Meeting and I gave the benediction. After the meeting, the members had brought pot luck for lunch before a special missionary fireside in the afternoon, and they invited us to eat with them. We did not want to be too late catching the ferry that would take us back to Cebu so we did not stay for the fireside, but did stay long enough to eat wonderful Filipino chicken noodle soup and lumpia, a vegetable and meat mixture wrapped in a phyllo-type wrap and then deep fried--yummmmm. I made sure that I visited the comfort room or CR (rest room) at the church, knowing there would be toilet seats on the toilets and probably toilet paper and paper towels to use. Most of the CRs do not have toilet seats or TP—you have to carry your own TP. And two of the CRs I have visited on this trip had buckets of water with a can to dip and flush with. Seldom is there a basin with running water to wash your hands. I always carry hand sanitizer and wet wipes.

Wolfs drove us to the port and we rocked ( not walked) down the swaying gangplank onto the “fast cat” boat which carried about 100 people. Our ride cost p124 which was less than $3 for both of us. Larry loves to sit right at the front so he feels the movement of the waves more than if he were in the middle or the back. I humor him, and so far have not gotten seasick, even though today’s ride was pretty exciting with the waves crashing over the bow. I only screamed twice. Once we got into the Cebu-side port we waited almost an hour for seats on a large air conditioned bus. There had been so many people on the ferry that the first bus filled before we were even down the gangplank; the second bus was not air conditioned and so we waited for a third bus to come and were able to get aboard just before the next boat docked. I harbored so many misgivings about riding the bus; several had told me that it was dangerous. Once we had started there was no turning back, the winds of whim or whatever carried us right into the other traffic lane several times barely missing an oncoming vehicle; but gratefully, we were the largest thing on the road except for an occasional sugar cane truck, and the multitude of other buses. I held my breath for tricycles and jeepnies and pedestrians who were in our path. Luckily the driver used his bus horn often and the smaller things quickly moved. Larry even admitted that he was concerned about how close to the other vehicles or edges the bus driver was driving. Like an ostrich, I simply buried my head in a book, reading or sleeping most of the 3 ½ hour trip home to Cebu, looking up occasionally to breathe in the beauty of the seascape with palms and banana trees lining the shores, or being amazed at some of the beautiful homes along the drive situated next to the woven napa huts or tin roof shacks, or gasping at the sheer drop off to the lava rock strewn beach a few hundred feet below. Occasionally the bus would stop and let on a vendor carrying bags of Filipino goodies that the passengers could purchase. He would ride for 10 or 15 minutes and then get off and wait for a bus going back the other way. At least four times during the ride, a representative of the bus company would get on and count the tickets comparing them with the number of people on the bus. No free rides here!

I actually welcomed the rap music some of the people in the back of the bus were playing loud enough to drown out the horrible profanities issuing from the blood and gore movie being shown in the TV at the front. We chose the very back seats on the ride home to be as far away as possible from Master Mahan’s mind manipulator; on the ride going to the port, we had made the mistake of taking the front seats so Larry could stretch his legs, and suffered spirit cramps much worse than the possible leg cramps. I held one finger to my ear, hummed hymns and read a book, and actually was able to block out the sound and fury of the brutal army movie that was playing. What do you do when you can’t get up and walk out?

Another cultural experience I was exposed to was at the half-way rest stop going to the Iloan port. The men got off the bus and urinated right at the side of the road or at the tires of the bus without even trying to camouflage what they were doing. It was disconcerting to say the least. There was a tiny, but very dirty looking, cement, open door CR available for the women and the men who wanted a semblance of privacy. I did not even investigate.

Lest you think the Philippines is a totally backward country, let me tell you about the rest of our trip. Wolfs met us (Elder Ganir went with us, staying just for the day and then traveling home that night) on Friday about noon. They had hired a pedicab (a motorbike with a large enclosed sidecar attached) for Larry and Wilson Ganir to ride on as they felt there wouldn’t be enough room in their car for our bags and five people. We drove through the rain to a delightful restaurant that looked like a large open air Filipino thatched roof house. It was situated on the beach. You could pick your fresh fish or lobster to be cooked. We chose something a little less exotic, but a house specialty—Barbequed chicken on a stick with rice and Filipino vegetables and a carrot and pineapple shake. (Larry had a mango shake so we could taste each others’, but mine was by far the better.) Sister Wolf ordered a banana blossom salad for us to share and Halo halo which is a refreshing dessert made from shaved ice, fresh coconut, assorted fresh fruits and some jelly like cubes all mixed together. After we had walked the beach for pictures, we drove to Wolf’s home. What a beautiful yard, a small paradise, full of tropical flowering bushes and fruit trees including banana, papaya, coconut and jack fruit enclosed in a lovely wall with a wrought iron gate. They have built a lovely two bedroom home with an attached apartment for her aging uncle. They hire a caregiver to take care of him when they come to the temple. One of the most delightful things in the yard is a beautifully built napa hut with woven walls and grass roof, a native Filipino guest house. Sometimes one of Lina’s nieces or nephews comes to live with them while going to school and this becomes their private room. Even though we had just eaten, Lina brought out vanilla and chocolate custard puddings with fresh fruit and muffins. She outdid herself trying to meet our every imagined need.

WE drove into Dumagete and were pleased with how clean and green the city was, even though the roads were not as wide as in Bacolod. WE checked in at our hotel and then set out to see the city’s shops. Wolfs were concerned that Larry needed some shoes to go snorkeling in, even though they were the ones who had commissioned specially made woven slippers for him that he has used in previous snorkeling experiences. We went to the largest shoe store in town, but to no avail. The largest size in a men’s shoe that they carried was a 10—four sizes too small for Larry. Wilson Ganir was in seventh heaven however, buying three pairs of nice crocs and sandals for about $3 a piece—one pair were Nikes water sandals. I wish I could buy everyone shoes here; they are so inexpensive and so cute! Whether the Filipinos have picked up on Imelda Marcos’ love of shoes, or whether it is just a Filipino thing, there are more shoe stores with more gorgeous and darling shoes than I have ever seen anywhere. I looked for me too, but unfortunately, size 10 in a woman’s shoe is nearly as non-existent as a 14 in mens’. It was time for Wilson to leave, so Hartmut drove him back to the port and Lina hailed a pedicab for us. We shopped at the new Robinson’s Mall and purchased some make-up bags to be used as scripture cases that Sister Aguilar had asked me to buy for her, stopped at a Native Filipino gift shop and bought me a sun hat since I had forgotten the one I bought for our previous beach trip and then said goodbye to Lina and walked back to our hotel. WE ate in the hotel restaurant and then watched the beautiful young women come in for their Senior Prom. This must be prom season in the Philippines. Very few of the girls were with young men; most of them came in with girl friends. The girls’ dresses were not as elaborate or expensive looking as the ones we had seen in Bacolod, but this city is not nearly as big, and maybe that makes the difference, but they were beautiful girls. They were thrilled when we asked if we could take their pictures. We spent time on the fifth floor balcony watching the ocean before we called it a night.

Larry was excited to get started Saturday morning. We were to sail to a small neighboring island, Siquijor, reported to have wonderful snorkeling. Hartmut picked us up at 9 and after completing errands, we met Lina and drove to the pier to catch the “fastcat” boat to Siquijor at 10:30. We were disappointed to learn that there were no spaces left until the 1 o clock boat and since we needed to be back by 4 for a meeting and the boat trip takes an hour, that didn’t seem like a plausible choice. Lina told us she would check to see if we could get on the ferry. It would take 2 hours but since it was leaving a half hour ahead of the "fastcat” we would only be 30 minutes behind it. She ran and came back breathless with three tickets. Hartmut does not like riding on boats, especially when the sea is rough. The two hour ferry ride turned out to be one of our most favorite experiences on the trip. Larry led me to one of the very few seats on the outside deck and we watched the angry, wild waves fight the unyielding armor of the ferry’s iron sides, continually splattering white spray over the expansive waters, sometimes even targeting us on the upper deck. Larry loved the pitch and roll of the ship. He even sighted a dolphin flowing in the foaming white caps. I held on tight.

Most of the transportation on Siquijor was pedicabs. Wolfs had arranged for one of their friends, Adrian, to drive us to a special white sand beach near the town of San Juan for snorkeling. As we bounced along the narrow roads we were awed by the picture postcard perfect scenes of lush greenery, tropical flowers, palm trees and laid-back Filipinos. Sister Wolf had stopped to buy binko, a sweet boiled rice bread, as a lunch. Larry had bought rolls for all of us to snack on. It was hilarious to watch Larry get ready to go snorkeling. He took the snorkel mask and tube out of its pack replacing them with his empty water bottle, an empty plastic pill bottle and an empty plastic peanut butter bottle. Tying the pack onto his belt, he then tucked it up inside his shirt, making his chest twice its real size. “This will keep me floating in the water,” he explained to our astonished friends. “It becomes my life jacket.” He then proceeded to walk out into the water with all his clothes on. I should have taken a picture of some unbelieving faces! I did take pictures of Larry but somehow missed him in the picture completely!

While he was in the water, Sister Wolf and I explored the area, discovering a group of the local women washing their clothes in a fresh water canal fed from a wonderful nearby spring which flowed into a huge town swimming pool, which in turn drained into the canal before emptying into the ocean. Little children were swimming in the canal near their mothers. Before we knew it, it was time to leave. WE couldn’t see Larry anywhere so I hurried down the beach to find him. The water was crystal clear with little to see—very few fishes, no unusual shells, no beautiful coral formations, but still the day had been fun. Adrian got us back to the port with minutes to spare. He was thrilled when we gave him 500 pesos for his transporting us all day long—imagine $10-12 for gas and a day’s work.


WE have been treated royally both by our friends and members we have visited. It has been a fun vacation, but now we are ready to get back to work in the temple.


Love, Larry and Mary