|
Sipalay MarketSep 14, 2009
|
|
| Just after ordering breakfast one morning, Dina and Divine ask me if I fancy coming along with them to the market in Sipalay to do some shopping. Not having anything planned except an evening appointment with the sunset and a rum and coke, I jump at the chance, and rush back to my hut to get changed. I'm rushing around and grab my deodorant mineral stick, which I'm meant to run under a tap to get wet and then whack on, but in that fraction of a second that lies between action and thought, I lick the bloody thing (!) and it is with a tongue like perfume that I jump into the banca. It's soon filled with black sacks of rubbish, empty bottles of Coke and Sprite, Dina, Divine, a baby and me. The sea is so calm the outriggers barely even get wet as we put-put-put our way past fishermen in their boats, their nets in a circle creating small lagoons. We head off to the market, heading through a small shop, ducking under the sachets of shampoo hanging down like jungle vines, emerging into a mill of people going through piles of clothes on large knee high tables, throwing them up in the air like farmers winnowing wheat. We make an interesting group, a Westerner and two Filipino girls, one of whom is holding a baby, and in this small provincial town, we get a lot of confused stares as they try and work out what the deal is. I hate it at first, but soon enjoy the dropped jaws, the dumb stares over piles of 50 peso hot pants, the tricycles slowing down, their drivers looking in disbelief at us, and then I wonder how many times I've judged like this. Shopping done, go for some super cheap internet (10 pesos an hour, get in) and some rice with fish heads, then it's back to Sugar Beach. With the sun at it's height, the sea glitters like the waves are edged with silver foil, thousands of brief bright gleams of harsh silvery white appearing and vanishing again every second like camera flashes at a pop concert, almost impossible to look at without squinting. In the evening, it's a different mellow sun that diffuses over the horizon, seeming to melt into the sea, an optical illusion caused by the haze on the horizon widening it's base. I go and grab my iPod, filled with a Tanduay fueled urge to listen to some Pink Floyd, and sit there on a large piece of driftwood, a warm breeze barely ruffling my shirt as my eyes lazily follow the one man bancas and the Vs of flying birds. After sunset, the sky goes through a chameleon-like change of colours, mango yellows changing imperceptibly into oranges via peach, with resolutely black clouds standing still like ships anchored in a bay, the sea glowing orange silver, wonkily mirroring the sky. Sugar Beach is at that perfect stage, with facilities like good accommodation, great food, 24 hour electricity and cold beer, but without the hassle, tour groups, jetskis or girly bars, like Borocay or Koh Samui must have once been. Read 'The Inheritance of Loss' by Kiran Desai and one line in there truly hits home when it states that we live in a world 'where one side travels the world to be a servant, and the other side travels to be treated like a king'. How lucky I am to be the latter, though how long that will last is anyone's guess. |
Advertisement 
|
