Brownout!

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When I hear the word “brownout,” I think of something that happens the day after I’ve eaten heaps of grilled pork and downed oceans of shitty, Korean beer. Electricity, or the lack thereof, isn’t really the first thing that springs to mind. We happen to be in the midst of a brownout right now here in lovely Puerto Princesa, but alas, my computer still works, thanks to the generator that Kiwi Andy has fired up. The only drawback is the noise. Like everything else here, the generator is really LOUD.

When I hear the word “brownout,” I think of something that happens the day after I’ve eaten heaps of grilled pork and downed oceans of shitty, Korean beer. Electricity, or the lack thereof, isn’t really the first thing that springs to mind. We happen to be in the midst of a brownout right now here in lovely Puerto Princesa, but alas, my computer still works, thanks to the generator that Kiwi Andy has fired up. The only drawback is the noise. Like everything else here, the generator is really LOUD.

The last couple of days have been spent exploring the area. Yesterday we took our motorbikes up to Honda Bay, where we hired a boat, checked out the islands that dot the area, and snorkeled. It’s a protected area, so the reefs are pristine, exploding with fish so colorful that my eyes hurt. At night I went out with some of the guys staying here (a cast of characters to be described later), along with three of the beautiful girls who staff the place (no, they’re not “working” working, but they’re dead hot). We went down to the bay walk downtown, where I won 300 pesos playing soccer ball roulette, one of a few very ghetto low-stakes gambling games set up on the hill above the bay. After that we hit a little club, where all of us drank and danced our asses off. It’s been a long time since I really got my got my dance on. Today we rode to Sabang, on the other side of the island, through jungle that opened up into limetone country very reminscent of Laos. The village is famous for an underground river the runs nearbye, supposedly the longest navigable underground river in the world. Everyone around here tries to sell you on the tour, which involves multiple boats that gouge you each time. Having done my share of “cave tours,” I elected to give it a skip, despite the fact that not doing it is considered some kind of tourist sacrelige. While I’m sure that it’s cool, it’s just one of those things that I know sounds cooler than what it really is…

It’s really loud, like I said. Aside from the generator, old-school country music is blasting from the speakers, and about three different guys are attempting to engage me in conversation, making further writing not only difficult, but impossible.



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