los Filippinos

Everyone said not to go to Cebu City. Oh, but it's just for one night on the way to the islands, it'll be fine, no worries. Then a street urchin pushes you into oncoming traffic and all of a sudden going straight from the airport to the ferry terminal seems like such an obvious choice.

Just kidding, I crashed a motorbike. But now it seems better, right? It's all about perspective. Especially when you're lying in a pile of gravel when a motorbike on top of you.

Also in the Philipppines:

Got stopped by the police whilst driving a scooter (pre-motobike whoopsies daisies) with an expired drivers license. Blabbered an explanation, was told that Filipino police are very kind, agreed, heartily, and went on my way.

Visited a prison, watched inmates dancing, had an awkward conversation with a guy the same age as me who's been in jail for 7 years (with 4 more to go), dealt with my white, middle class, first world guilt.

Met a monkey named Kieko. Kieko had to be kept on a leash because he learned to make fire by watching people light cigarettes and then started lighting matches on the bungalow roofs.

Got sea and land-sick.

Vomited into the ocean while swimming, fully clothed, to a deserted tropical island (*see above).

That's about all that I remember right now, but I might be having heat-induced amnesia.

                                                                 JAZZ HANDS!