Mindanao, Davao- Pork and Pyrotechnics

I've never understood the phrase, "Hot enough to fry an egg". What is to prevent someone from having fried eggs in the winter? And if the weather truly is hot enough to fry an egg, trust me, the last thing you want to do is go out there and work on an omelette.

All this is to say that it comes as a surprise that the fine folks of Mindanao go outdoors at all. Every trip I took was a well-planned trip and strategic jaunt from one air-conditioned location to the other.

This is because, in case I haven't gotten the point across, the Philippines are HOT.
Really hot. Like "I need to stand next to that burning can of trash in order to cool off" hot. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that during Christmas/late December it was too hot to jog. I guess I could have jogged at 5am in the 80 degree temperature, but come on.

So I didn't jog, and planned my trips based on A/C locations, and marveled at the Philippinos lack of wussy-ness, and took a little pride at my own.
But that's not the only thing that got my attention.

I was at first delighted at the airport. It has two gates, 1 and 2. Or, as I like to put it, Left and Right. The PA announcer liked to say things like, "Flight blah blah blah is now boarding at Gate 2. That's right, buddy, turn around. Just a little more to your left. Good. Now give the lady your ticket."
The baggage claim was an open-air, doorless room, located under the airport. You could look through the boards to see the people above you receiving instruction on whether to go left or right while you picked out your samsonite.

About 40 feet outside the airport was a pickup point that was sheltered and looked like a bus stop. They called it a shed. Under this the people awaiting the passengers huddled to stay out of the sun's rays and pick up their friends.

Outside that were the taxis.

And what can I say about the taxis?
I developed a strong affection for them, or rather, how they were decorated. This is an odd thing to say, but only if you haven't seen the taxis. There seems to have been a massive memo sent out on who could decorate their taxis the most garishly. I wish they all could win, I really do. You should've seen them. And because they all practiced what I will kindly call "offensive driving" (do your own jokes here), I was often too amazed to have gotten at my destination alive to give full attention to the tassels and last supper represented in auto paint. But I did notice. A velvet picture of Jesus on the side of a Toyota truck is gonna get noticed, survivor's guilt or not.

Because I visited during Christmas, I got to take part in fireworks. My part was wondering who would drive to the ER, how that kid would adapt to being a lefty for the rest of his life, whether that coke bottle would structurally hold up, was there a rating for clothes flammability and where would my shirt fit on that spectrum, etc.

Long story short: in the Philippines, major holidays are celebrated by blowing stuff up. Some love languages are universal, I guess. There are very few guidelines as to how powerful the fireworks can be, so on December 26 and January 1, it is customary to list on television the victims who have lost limbs. It's probably done to act as a deterrant. I know that for many it doesn't work, because the list remains.

Another Christmas tradition is slaughtering a pig. Once you've woken up to the gentle sound of hearing a pig slaughtered, several things will happen: 1)you'll opine for a rooster's wake-up call, and 2)you might give up on pork.
Of course, if you're gonna ignore the missive about missing limbs and plan on minor detonation in the evening, there isn't much that will deter you, I've found. So pork followed by pyrotechnics seems all the norm.

On the days after Christmas, I had an opportunity to snorkel. For those who know of my ichthyophobia, this may come as a surprise, but there comes a point where the fear of being rude supercedes all else. Thus I found myself snorkeling. We went out to a nearby island, and during the afternoon villagers paddled out to our boat carrying wares to be bought. It was quaint, interesting, and somewhat sad. I have a rather tender streak, which manifested itself in the purchase of a bamboo bowl.

After a week of visiting Mindanao, I liked the city and it's people. I liked the taxis and marvelled at all the little Sistine Chapels on wheels. I didn't become a vegetarian, but it wasn't for lack of trying, and I kept all my limbs.
All told, a good week, and a nice city.