Two and almost a half months have raced by since last posting and I'm happy to report my plant still stands green and leafy. I got cocky and bought another little tree, so naturally, I was a little upset to find it hard as a rock when I got back from the Philippines. Not sure what happened, and don't really want to talk about it either. I mean, there's more interesting things to share, you know?
"Ok, so the Philippines, right!" Amazing adventure! For those of you unaware, I spent Christmas roughing it alone for 9 days on a gorgeous island called Palawan in the Philippines. National Geographic ranks this island number one in East and Southeast Asia for natural beauty and ecological diversity and number 13 in the world for the same, so it's no slouch. Getting there was a piece of cake. I spent the night sleeping in Incheon airport and was Philippines-bound in the early morning. I discovered half way to Manila that I was travelling with a delightful Christian guy from Korea through making small talk in some lousy Korean-English, otherwise known as Konglish. I found out that the book he put in the pocket in front of him was a Korean Christian devotional. "Ahh, the Lord is with me," I thought. Praise the Lord!
From Ninoy airport in Manila, I caught a little, colorful, tropical plane with propellers (I've always wanted to fly on an airplane with propellers) to Palawan. I knew I was in a different world when I arrived at baggage pick-up/immigrations. 
A shack with a tin roof, a conveyor belt that looked like a piece of farm machinery, and cardboard signs to indicate "no smoking" and "immigrations". The latter being two men behind a desk with a pen and a ringed notebook to record passport information. "Ok, the adventure begins," I thought. Actually, I said that with more conviction after checking into my hotel and discovering lizards eating bugs around my porch light. My hotel, a small, family runned business was located in Puerto Princesa, dubbed "a City in a F
orset." It's the largest city in the Philippines according to land area, but only has a population of 230 000 or thereabouts. In the city proper, as the locals say, the infrastructure is ok. Lots of ramshackle housing, numerous little run-down shops, one department store with rebar sticking out of it, no MC D's, but there is a JollyBee's.
My first day, I caught a tricycle for a city tour. Most tricycles are 20 year old motorbikes with small engines, 125cc or less, equipped with a side-car. They're 'not' fast, quiet, or comfortable, especially on the dirt roads where the engine and suspension are heavily taxed, but I'd take one over a taxi any day, except during a Can
adian winter or a torrential rain storm where the rain falls sideways. My driver that day was Eddy; loved the guy, in fact, so much so, I asked him to meet me at 7:00 am two days later for another outing. The first time Eddy approached me I was coming out of my hotel. I turned him down and said "maybe later" and went walking aimlessly in the city. While making my way back, a tricycle pulled up behind me. I turned around, and there was Eddy, just beaming away. "You ready now?" he said with a big grin. I hesitated for a moment, and thought, "ok, he seems like a nice guy, what do I got to lose, other than my camera and all my money?" "Sure why not," I said. Little did I know that this glib response marked the beginning of an incredible adventure with God as my tourist guide (and who better!). I asked Eddy to take me on a city tour, and that's just what I got. I went to a butterfly garden, a crocodile farm, you know the touristy things, but the highlight was the Iwang Penal Colony. An outdoor prison 20 minutes outside the city proper, located at the base of some mountains and surrounded by gorgeous farm land dotted with palm trees. At the gated entrance to the colony, we had to stop and give some personal information, and from there we rolled about 5 minutes down a windy road picking up a hitchhiker, or rather a hitchhiker jumped on our tricycle along the way; his name was Alex, a prisoner recently shipped from a prison in Manila. Alex was small, tattooed and likeable. 
He gave me a tour of the grounds and invited me to go exploring with him; that's right, Eddy would wait by the tricycle, while me and a convict would go into the jungle together hahahha. "Ok," I said. My instincts told me I could trust the guy. We went up on large hill he claimed he had never climbed before, which culminated in a commanding view of the sea. Being up there was great and only a tad unsettling; in the back of my mind I'm thinking, "here I am in a prison," a rather nice one mind you, "with an inmate who tells me along the hike he did something that was an accident 10 years ago." I begin to wonder, "what if another accident happens?" Unlike the Olympian I met in Korea, I had this guy beat in height and size, so I figured, if I had to, I could probably hold him off for a few minutes, of course, unless he was packing something, then, well, God help me. After the little tour, Alex asked us for a lift back to his quarters where his buddies were. His pad was situated in the midst of some run-down nepa huts shared by a few other prisoners, and a small shed with a couple of really ugly turkeys running freely. On the way there, Alex tapped the hood of the tricycle and Eddy pulled over along the side of the road. Alex hopped out and told us to wait. He walked about 50 feet into a field and began scaling a 20 foot palm tree in his bare feet. I was watching the whole thing like "where in the world am I?" He twisted off three coconuts and brought them back with a big smile. 
"Do you like coconut milk?" he asked. "Don't know, never had it before," I replied. Back at his hut, he and his buddies whacked open one of the coconuts with a dirty machete. "Are they allowed to have that?" I wondered while watching one of them pour me a glass of juice into a dirty white mug. "Oh great, I'm going to get polio my first day." "All part of the adventure I guess." It was fantastic. Nothing like sipping fresh coconut juice in a tropical prison with inmates and a machete within their reach. Shortly afterwards, Alex and I exchanged addresses and I bought a little wooden ship he had made for the price of a larger ship he tried to sell me. He said that Eddy and I were really friendly people, and gave me a big hug, a coconut and a dangling Palawan star from his hut, which I hung from the tricycle for the ride home and now have hung up in my place here in Korea.
Later that night, I had in some ways, a life changing experience down at the bay walk, just a few minutes from my hotel. I made my way down to the ocean, where some Christmas festivities were underway. I hadn't taken more than 10 steps onto the viewing area for some Karaoke that was going on, before two little Filipino boys had approached me singing Christmas carols; one of them was playing a portable drum set, the other dancing rhythmically to his friends drumming. I stood in awe. Beautiful voices and talented singing and dancing, but as I looked more closely, being night it was harder to see, I could discern that the drum set was made of empty cans and rubber bands. One had no sandals on. Their clothes looked old and threadbare and their skin was quite dirty. "My goodness, these kids are dirt poor," 
I thought to myself. My heart sunk. I wanted to enjoy their music, it was so beautiful, but I was distracted by their poverty. When they finished, they smiled beautiful smiles and asked me for some money in broken English. All I had were larger bills but I didn't know the value of the money, or what they might use the money for. Begrudgingly, I told them "not right now," while wincing and shrugging my shoulders, hoping they'd understand my confusion. I complimented their singing, but felt really superficial and unsympathetic for doing so; there had to be something meaningful I could do, but I was too caught off guard to be reasonable; I mean, I had only come down to the bay walk to look at the ocean; I wasn't prepared for this. I tried to talk to them in English, but they didn't understand and moved on. I was left reeling by what had happened, and I hadn't gone maybe 50 feet before another group of kids started doing the same. Same type of drums, same beautiful voices, same type of clothes, same dirty hair and skin. "What is going on?" I thought to myself. I learned from talking to a local that these kids live on the streets of Puerto Princesa. They're called "street kids" and they don't have much. Later that night, a couple of kids came up to me having no instruments, but they understood a little of English. I had them sit down beside me, and I tried talking to them for about 20 minutes. 
Eventually, they asked me for change, but from my conversation with the local, I didn't feel right giving them any. I had learned that many use the money for gambling and other illicit activities. I thought I'd get them some food instead. I took them to a little barbecue stand where I had eaten earlier, which incidentally, wasn't any more sanitary than where I had the coconut milk earlier. My heart ached for the owner. She was a single mother who had recently lost her business in a fire. She said once the Christmas festivities wrapped up, she would have to shut down her barbecue stand, leaving no income to support her family for the month of January. She was so happy to see me again, calling me by name. I told her I had some kids with me and asked her to give them whatever they wanted. "You're so kind, Chris," she said." I'm thinking to myself, really? "This is nothing for me." They each took a couple of chicken-ka-bobs and I got them a couple of cokes. The owner hid the kids under a little tent beside the stand to avoid causing a stir amongst the other street kids. I watched them eat for a few seconds; their faces lit up like the giant Christmas tree behind them. I left at that point with tears falling down my face. How could so little bring so much happiness to them? I had never experienced anything like that before. "Suffer the little children to come to Me, for such is the Kingdom of Heaven!"
The next day, I caught a 7:30 van out to Sabang about 2 and half hours away from my hotel. The scenery was spectacular; giant limestone rocks surrounded by lush vegetation and palm trees. After enduring some bumpy dirt roads, we reached a wharf near a scenic beach where Ms. Earth was held a couple of years ago. We boarded a banga boat, a small wooden vessel with outriggers on e
ither side, that took us near the site of the underground river, one of two World Heritage sites in Palawan. Arriving at our destination, I walked across a beautiful sandy beach surrounded by limestone outcrops to a small pathway cutting through dense forest and terminating at the mouth of the cave. While strolling through the forest, I paused to watch a monitor lizard lounging at the forest's edge. I asked if I could touch him and the tour guide said "sure but be careful of his tail." "Here, watch," he said. He stalked the lizard and then grabbed his tail causing him to tear off into the forest. "Ah way to go buddy!" I thought. It came back though, giving me an opportunity to lay down close to it for a picture. A few minutes later, we arrived at the mouth of the cave, which looked like a scene out of a movie; the serenity, the placid, aqua blue water, the monkeys playing in the trees, a top New Wonder of the World staring me in the face; it all left me asking myself, "Where am I?" After about 40 minutes of waiting, 
spent watching monkeys being monkeys, our group boarded a little boat and we were paddled deep into the cave. Inside was amazing, but it was so dark that except for the spot of light cast from a spot-light at the bow, you couldn't really discern too much. The trip went 1.5 kms into the cave and was commentated by a seriously-informed tour guide who knew every nook, cranny and stalactite in the place. With scuba certification, you can go another 3 kms further. In it's entirety, the cave goes 8kms, allegedly, the longest subterranean river in the world.
Day 3, Eddy, my faithful companion and tricycle driver was waiting outside my hotel at 7:00am, just like we had arranged. He took me to the wharf in Honda Bay, where I spent a day of island hopping. It was surreal. I coughed up approx. $30 which got me a buffet lunch of barbecued chicken and fish, and my own banga boat, allowing me the freedom to go to any island I wanted and for as long as I wanted. 
The first island we anchored on was called Snake island because of a long sinuous sand bar that split the ocean for a good kilometer or more. I hadn't been on the island for more than 5 minutes before one of the boat men, the more personable of the two, grabbed a piece of bread from a little hut and asked me to follow him into the water. I walked out about 10 feet, about knee height, at which point he asked me to stop. He went another 20 feet and submerged the piece of bread and walked toward me. "Watch," he said. Within seconds, maybe fifty fish of all different shapes and colours had surrounded me. "What in the world?" "I'm in an giant aquarium," I thought. Palawan is surrounded by one of the most diverse ocean environments in the world. T
hey say that over 80% of the tropical fish in aquariums come from this part of the world. I reveled in the colorful school of fish swimming around my legs for a few minutes, and then went snorkeling with a piece of bread of my own, exploring some coral and larger fish in the deeper waters. All I can say is that I wish I had an underwater camera; it's a whole 'nother world down there. There were so many indescribably weird things. Plants with tentacles, bizarre fish, beautiful fish, tiny fish, star fish, angel fish, and even territorial fish hahah.. speaking of which... There was one little fish, no bigger than my thumb, who must have been really irritated with me because he kept swimming at my goggles. I'm not kidding, it really looked like there was frustration on his tiny face haha.. I was laughing so hard that I made some air bubbles, which I think only provoked the poor little guy even more haha. 
It's one thing to see this stuff in an aquarium, but seeing this stuff in it's natural habitat is inexplicable. God has made so many things. You think life on terra firma is complex enough, then you discover for yourself an unfathomably complex web of life under water; it just messes with your head when you start to consider all the ecological intricacies and interdependencies that exist on this planet. After a leisure stroll on the sandbar watching some kids collecting snails, and exploring a couple more islands, I was growing tired, but I asked my boatmen to see one more place. They recommended Starfish island. "Sure, why not!" I thought!
Heading toward the island, I saw a twister touch down on a mountain off in the distance. "Do you see that?" I hollered at my boatman with excitement. He smiled as if to say, "I see this stuff all the time." 
"Awesome eh?" I don't think he really cared, but I was like a little kid brimming with boyish curiosity, leaning over the edge of the boat, delighting in the awesome spectacle through the lens of my camera. Anyway, we soon arrived at the small star-shaped island, which I discovered had a pet monkey on it. "Can I put it on my head," I asked the owner. "Sure, he'll just look for bugs," he replied nonchalantly. "Ok, I'll put him on my head then." Initially he just parted my hair and scratched gently. "Cool," I thought, "I have a monkey on my head." Then the little twerp freaked out and bit my ear. "Ahhh, what the heck is he doing?" I said a little alarmed. The owner laughed. Then the monkey through a fit and started reefing on my hair. "Ok, maybe he should go now," I said unnerved and in slight pain "Wait, just one more picture" I grimaced. I tolerated the pain long enough for the shot and said something like "Alright, enough's enough. Back you go you crazy monkey," and the owner pulled him off my head, which made the little monster
scream. "Good, I thought!" "That's the last time I'm putting a monkey on my head," but truth be told, I'd probably do it again. After all, it's a monkey on your head.
When I got home that night, (Eddy had waited at the port all day for me so he could drive me back to my hotel) I realized I was lobster-red. I took a couple of pictures of my tan line, but I think they're a little too revealing for me to post here. Take my word for it, I was beet red and suffered mild discomfort for the remainder of my trip!
Day four was perhaps the craziest day of the trip; nine hours on a jeepney barreling through the jungle on a treacherous dirt road. I woke up early that morning and on a whim decided to go to El Nido, purportedly, the most stunning part of the island, and it was for me, hands down, the most stunning part of my trip. I stumbled out into the little restaurant at around 6:45am, burnt to a crisp and starving, and asked the owner of the hotel if he knew how to get to El Nido. He looked as usual, like he just got up, which really may have been the case this time because it was quite early. 
He said " you want to go all the way up there, today?" "All the way up there," I said. "Ok, just a minute," he replied, grabbing his cell phone." He called up his personal drivers, and within 20 minutes there were four of us headed to the city bus terminal in his private van. When we arrived, the owner asked me to wait inside the vehicle. He got out, staggered over to one of the four dilapidated buses marked Puerto Princesa to El Nido and had a little pow-wow with what looked to be the one of the drivers. He staggered back to the van and said, "only two of the buses are going for sure but you've got a seat on one of them." "Great!" They drove me back to the hotel to pack my stuff and check out. "I'm going to El Nido baby!" When I got back to the bus terminal, I discovered I had a seat next to the driver with ample leg room. What a blessing because that ol'machine was stuffed to the ceiling and packed on top with luggage and passengers (yes, I said on top. People rode on top of this bus - crazy!!!! I guess it pays to be friends with the city attorney 
) Before embarking on the long journey, the driver reinforced the rear view mirror with some electrical tape. "Yeah, this is going to be fun," I thought. I could see the ground through the floorboards and there were screwdrivers ratcheted into spots to keep things together. After about 20 minutes, with no indication we were leaving, and there was strangely no announcement when we arrived either, he hot-wired the bus and off we went. Once out of the city a couple of hours, we hit a dirt road and the scenery became breathtaking. The jungle was relentless, the rural poverty was ubiquitous, and the road at times was disfigured and filled with gaping potholes. 
It becomes so bad during the rainy season, that at times, the road becomes impassable. We blew two tires on the way; the excessive weight from cargo and passengers and the poor driving conditions were too much for the ol'bus to bear. No kidding, I estimated, because naturally the speedometer was busted, that at times we were rocketing at probably 50 to 80 kms an hour, just swaying back and forth, impetuously overtaking motorcyclists, oxen and other traffic and recklessly dodging construction; it was a tad frightening but not as scary as the driver's deadpan face; it remained expressionless for most the trip except for the few times when a sustained, twisted grin appeared for no apparent reason; it was bizarre! He was a strange dude with long thumb nails - that's about all I can say of him. Oh, he did show emotion once, when he laid on the horn when a motorcyclist wouldn't let us pass. We nearly rammed headfirst into a hillside while attempting to overtake the bike in a tight corner that turned sharply to the left at the bottom of a hill. It was brazen and foolhardy but actually, kind of fun! I hope I don't have to do it again hahaha...
God be praised, I made it to El Nido in the early evening. I strolled out onto the beach bedraggled and encumbered with my belongings, a laptop bag, a camera bag and back pack, took a good long look at the seascape, and thought, you gotta be kidding me, this place is unreal. It was. I've never seen anything like it. Aqua blue water and islands of limestone as far as the eye could see. I couldn't wait to get out there and explore. I found cheap lodging across the road in a nepa hut large enough for a bed and a mosquito net. Electricity was from 6pm to 6am, which was the case for the whole town (many shops had generators though), and toilets and cold showers were found in a little white building central to the camp. 
Shortly after checking in, the owner and I got talking and he informed me that he was the third prophet according to biblical prophecy and to prove it, he said he had the third testament, which of course, he received during a visit to heaven. I spent about 30 minutes trying to reason from scripture that this couldn't be the case, and warned him not to go any further with this stuff. In my head, I'm thinking, "ok, he's probably going to kill me in my sleep." If that wasn't odd, shortly thereafter, I heard someone call my name. I turned around and recognized some migrant workers I met back in the Penal Colony. I didn't know if I could trust them, which got a little more concerned. I laid down that night, asking myself repeatedly, "Where am I?" My ankle had swollen to the size of a softball from a sunburn on the back of my leg. Somehow, I must have got some sun while in the Jeepney. I fell asleep to the sound of waves crashing on the shore and woke up to another beautiful day.
Day 6 was Christmas day. By 8:30am I was out on the sea in my own banga boat, with a couple of boatman and a small boy; he was the happy-go-lucky son of one of the two skippers. The first island, or rather feature we descended upon, was a small lagoon. 
We sidled up to a gorgeous island where some people were snorkeling in a little inlet, and I thought, "Oh, how lovely, a small lagoon!" Some shallow aqua, blue water, visible coral, probably some fish, ahh, what a relaxing way to start the morning. The lead boatman threw the anchor and handed me my snorkeling gear and said "come this way." We walked by all the snorkelers toward a small naturally-formed entrance in the limestone wall in front of us. He motioned me to put on my gear, which I did, wondering exactly where we were going. "It's through there," he said pointing straight ahead. I could glimpse through the entrance-way, the calmest, bluest water and thought, "ahh, that's the small lagoon." I started swimming toward the enticing scenery in front of me and noticed the water getting deep quick. I had no flotation device with me, and I can remember asking the Lord to keep me buoyant. I mean it would be a nice place to die, but there was so much yet to see, I felt it would be premature. Once inside, I was speechless. 
There was 100 feet or more of the prettiest-aqua-blue water in front of me enclosed by towering rugged limestone walls. There were birds chirping; the water was as calm as a sheet of ice and we were the only ones in there at the time. It felt prehistoric. Honestly, if I saw a pterodactyl fly overhead I'd think nothing of it. My accompanying boatmen informed me while resting on a little rock near one of the walls that the lagoon drops 60 ft in the middle. "Wow, I thought again, Lord, where am I?"
We went to several islands that day, the one following the small lagoon was my favourite of all of the island hopping I did in Palawan. It's difficult to describe, but it's beauty was staggering. I thought to myself, "God is unveiling some of his spectacular creation for me, what a wonderful Christmas present!" I remember at one point being out on the sea surrounded by majestic islands of limestone thinking "the blood of the one who created all of this was shed for me!" I felt so insignificant but at the same time so cherished by the Lord. It was a marvellous thing.
Day 7 was more of the same. I took the same boat manned by the same boatmen minus the boy, but instead of going it alone, I went with another family. A gusty wind had turned the waters quite choppy, with waves cresting and white-capping as far as the eye could see. 
Everyone, including myself was unsettled by the big waves that were splashing over the boat, partly because it was quite turbulent, and partly because there weren't enough life jackets for everyone (I did not have one by the way!). To give you an idea how rough it was, the rocking of the boat broke the arm rest on my wooden chair, taking away some of my back support and exposing some rusty old nails. I would've liked to have explored more, the boatmen wanted to as well, but our island hopping was limited to only a few locations because the family, and understandably so, wanted to get their children back on land. The highlight for me that day was witnessing a massive sea turtle idling beside the boat. When I called every one's attention to it, it disappeared in a splash somewhere deep below the surface.Too bad I had my camera stowed away for protection, but I had no choice. A little water sloshing around in the camera body is all it would take for my little travelling companion to be out of commission! When I got back to the camp, you know the one owned by the "third prophet", I had a bite to eat and then spent a couple hours sprawled out on the beach thwarting the paths of hermit crabs with my hands and watching sensitive sand crabs scurrying nervously under the light of the moon.
Day 8, (back to Pureto Princesa). I had met up with a Canadian couple, currently working for the embassy in the Philippines while on the bus ride to El Nido. Our bus driver had picked them up along the way; I forgot to mention this earlier, but our bus snatched up passengers whenever there happened to be available space either inside or on top of the bus; there were no bus stops, just people standing along the road hoping to hitch a ride. The Canadians I was just referring to, they ended up on top of the bus; that is, until the guy was bit by a massive black bug and his arm went numb. At the 
next stop him and his girlfriend found a spot inside the bus hahhaa. Anyway, I found out through talking with them that they happened to be going back to Puerto the same day I was. Praise the Lord! We decided to pool our money and rent a private van to get us back. No jeepney this time! On the way there, I saw a couple of vans like ours off the road. One belonged to a close friend of our driver so we stopped to have a closer look. The story is that the van lost control and plummeted some 40 feet down into the jungle. I guess the dense vegetation broke the fall because the driver and a passenger escaped more or less unscathed. The next banged up van I saw, which was only about 20 minutes away from the other accident, was being hauled out of a ditch with a winch. I'm sure accidents are a common occurrence; I'd be surprised if they weren't. I made it back safe, checked into my previous hotel, and just relaxed in the small restaurant eating ribs, and listening to this beautiful Filipino folk singer, Freddie Aguliar;
Day 9, last day on the island, and already missing the place. I was supposed to have gone fishing that day with one of the owner's drivers, who happened to be a veteran tuna fisherman, but an unseasonal rainstorm hit during the night leaving the seas quite rough. I had prayed if the Lord would have me go to church, He'd make it clear, and that was about as clear as it could get! The Lord led me to a tricycle driver who knew of a local baptist church that I might like and with no time to church hop, being about a quarter to 10, I said "Sure, lets go!" I was thinking "The Lord has provided abundantly so far, why should I doubt His provision now." Five minutes later we pulled up to an old warehouse. I noticed a large sign that read, 'Fundamental Baptist Church'. "Works for me," I thought. The service ended up being lovely. 
The sanctuary was packed with people and oscillating fans, the singing was rich, a warm tropical breeze circulated through the service, and the pastor, believe it or not, spoke about 80 to 90% of the message in English. (the rest was in Tagalog, a common language in Palawan). I had asked a Filipino girl sitting behind me prior to the service if the pastor spoke English, something I had taken for granted, until it dawned on me that English isn't the first language in Palawan. She courteously went and asked the pastor, herself being new to the church. He looked over at me and smiled. Whether he spoke more English for my sake, I don't know, but I do know this much, the Lord provides! At the end of the service he had me stand up and introduce myself to some 200 people. I thought that was great, I mean, it sure keeps you from being anonymous and overlooked! Afterward, it seemed everyone in the church took a turn to shake my hand, and I left feeling loved and encouraged by the message. Awesome experience, and one of the highlights of the trip.
After checking out of the hotel, I went to the airport and was invited to play some b-ball with some guys, one of whom had only one sandal on; I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I thought shooting som
e hoops would be a great way to kill some time until my 3:50pm flight. While busting some white-boy moves I managed to rip my shorts in the rear. I had no boxers on underneath. One of the guys felt bad and offered to grab me some underwear from his house nearby, but seeing the ones he had on were half-busted and hanging out of his pants, I passed on his offer. I continued to play some b-ball, though a little self-consciously mind you, figuring, I've got time. Little did I know that while I'm out there running around commando with a giant tear in my shorts, the flight I had booked for Manila didn't exist. I've learned that you have to be wary of the smaller airlines. I found out about my ghost flight when I sauntered into the airport and tried to check in at an unmanned kiosk. After inquiring at a kiosk for another airline, I was told that my flight was a mistake. "OK," I thought, "what now?" The Lord kept me peaceful. I tried booking another flight, but I didn't have enough cash on hand to purchase the ticket. The clerk said I only had half an hour until the fare would jump up considerably, and only an hour before the flight would take off. I raced out and grabbed a tricycle to take me to the nearest ATM. We barreled down the street at a cool 20km/hr and 5 minutes later arrived at an ATM guarded by a guy with a machine gun. "Out of order," he said. "Fantastic," I muttered. "There's gotta be another one around here somewhere," I told the driver. He took me to one a few minutes down the street. Cruising at 20km/hr when time is of the essence doesn't help matters. At one point, I was leaning forward thinking somehow that would make us more aerodynamic hahhah. We got to the next ATM and no surprise, it wouldn't read my card. It was a Sunday, so I couldn't go in the bank to ask for assistance. I threw up my hands and zipped back to the tricycle. "Alright, there's gotta be one more ATM," I said calmly, and I was. I mean, "Hey, if I get stuck in Palawan for a few more days, is that such a bad thing?" We drove at a snail's pace a few more minutes and found another ATM. "Here goes nothing," I thought prayerfully. I put in my card, "Error". Again. "Error." It wouldn't take my Korean debit card. "What now?" I thought almost resigned to staying a few more days in Palawan. I decided to try a cash advance on my credit card. I hadn't done that at an ATM before but I thought, "why not, I've got nothing to lose at this point." I swiped my card and it asked me for a pin number. "Huh? pin number? I don't have a pin number for this card, do I?" I tried my pin for my debit card and then a dollar amount but no response. I tapped the machine, thinking out loud, and decided I try one more time. With a modicum of faith, I prayed to the Lord and entered a four digit number that for some reason just made sense to me 
at the time.The machine started whirling and chugging and bam, money started spitting out. "Oh my goodness, what are the chances?" Just another instance of the Lord's provision! I bolted back to the tricycle and we inched our way back to the airport. I b-lined it through the scanner and was standing before the clerk at exactly 4:00 pm. I got my ticket, and in a hour and a half (the flight was delayed haha) I was bound for Manila. Awesome, I thought. The adventure was over. hhahha... Wrong.. ..!!
I was driven to a hotel in Manila by a family at the airport whom I had met on one of the islands while island hopping in El Nido. "What are the chances of that happening," I thought. This kind of thing happened so much, I almost started to take it for granted. That night, I took a leisure 10 minute stroll down a street just outside of the main part of the city. Within a few hundred feet of my hotel I was accosted by a prostitute who wanted to know what I thought of her, solicited for money, urged to go in a strip bar and stared at by everyone. "Ok, I'm going to get mugged, or killed if I go any further, so I went back to the hotel and slept in my posh room - or so it seemed compared to the nepa hut I was in only 2 nights previous.
The next day, I woke up bright and early to get a good start. I realized during breakfast while waiting for my meal that I had booked a 12:30 am flight instead of a 12:30pm flight. "Yeah, I missed my flight by a good 8 hours hhahah.." I said to myself, "the Lord has provided thus far, I can't doubt His provision now." I continued eating my breakfast, mind you a little faster than usual, figuring this is all in the Lord's hands. 
I caught a shuttle bus from the hotel to the airport, calmly went through all the rigmarole and got myself a ticket for the12:30pm flight to Seoul I intended to book. And, I even managed to get the shuttle bus to stop so I could get a refund for my ghost-flight on the way to the airport. 3 and a half hours after boarding the plane, I was back in Seoul, asking myself again, "Where in the world am I?" hahahah
My goodness! What a trip! The Lord is an incredible provider!
For an update on other things, like teaching in Korea for example, I'll briefly say this:
The Hagwon is not what I thought it was going to be. It's Christian in name, but not much in practice. It can be a challenging work environment sometimes because of questionable business practices, and tiring workloads. Please pray for Sky and I as we seek God's wisdom in how to deal with our Director. I love the kids! They are so precious! I've grown up a lot since being here. Learning how to make decisions, how to treat others, and how to stand up for myself. It's hasn't been a cake-walk, but it has been incredibly enriching!
Here are some pics of my kids during a trip to a museum in Olympic park and during a PE class yesterday. 
And here are some pictures from a snowboarding trip I took 2 weeks ago. I was snowboarding from 12am to 5am if you can believe it. Only in Korea, where everything is just a little different hahaha!
Please remember to pray for me! Your prayers are making a difference in my life!
In the Lord,
Chris
Love Aunt Bev...