Theo is throughly exhausting me. The main difficulty is trying to make him sit still at mealtimes, which are eaten in the restaurant and are quite formal. He runs laps of the restaurant, shouts, rings the waitresses bell, blows bubbles in his juice, throw chips at mum, goes into the kitchen ( where they all make a fuss of him and give him biscuits, despite his monstrous behaviour), and is generally totally hyper and deaf to instructions. I think he is so excited and over-stimulated he doesn't know how to wind down. We have been on the move so much, he's taken in so many new experiences, his routine is out of kilter and he just can't find his 'off' button. I wish I could take his batteries out for half an hour; I'm spent.
Theo is great when we are on a mission. He loved touring the island by tricycle, zooming past men ploughing their fields with calm, lumbering oxen, beautifully kept woven bamboo homes, some on stilts, and the mansions of the 'Balikbayan', Filipinos who have worked abroad and sent money back to their families. These homes are occupied by their proud extended families, often 3 generations living together, while the owners return for holidays, and then finally, to retire.
Most family homes are lived in by several generations, as is Lala's. Lala's brother, wife, 3 children and new born baby are moving in to the family home, joining her grandparents, sister and two boys.
The 6 newcomers will all live in a room around 6 meters squared, just a bit bigger than our kitchen, sleeping together on a mattress on the floor. They have a fridge, toilet that flushes with a pail of water and a shower. When I think about the fuss I make about having 'some space' or needing the whole 'house to myself' I feel very selfish.
We visited a enormous banyan tree, draped in vines, believed to have magical powers in the Philippines, the Caribbean and Africa. This tree is over 300 years old, and under its huge roots bubbles a spring of cool, clear fresh water. A pool has been built around the spring for the locals, which is alive with little fish.
On approaching the tree, one feels a deep sense of privilege to be allowed in such a sacred and mystical space. Directly under its roots is a deep chasm, the water a dark emerald colour; perhaps the central source of the trees' power. One could easily imagine a mythical creature rising from these dark waters at dusk, or seeing the body of an unfortunate soul caught and twisted in the huge sinews that make up the trees trunk.
To bring us back down from our mystical reverie, Theo announced that he was going to do a poo in his pants. I rushed him into the forest behind the tree to help him relieve himself.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, I was attacked by a swarm of Mosquitos. It was as if they had planned an ariel assault, like fighter pilots. I was stung everywhere, and came storming out the bushes with Theo half dressed under my arm. Perhaps they were protecting the Banyan tree, guarding it from the little boy about to defecate on holy ground.
In the afternoon we visited a stunning waterfall that cascaded over smooth rock into a translucent pool below. The surrounding forest was lush and full of birdsong. We stripped off and dived in immediately to keep our mid afternoon lethargy at bay.
Legend has it that before the waterfall appeared there were three gorgeous but haughty sisters that lived on the rock. One night, a poor decrepit old women came knocking at their door asking for food and shelter. They turned her away, disgusted at the idea of letting such a filthy creature into their house.
That night, as they slept, they heard the sound of running water. Suddenly, their house was swept away by a raging torrent, and all three perished in the turbulent waters. In place of their home now falls the waterfall, in three sections, and breathtakingly beautiful, like the sisters themselves.
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