On our return from the temple, the restaurant by the stream we had passed earlier gained our custom. It had simple mats on the floor and no prices on the menu, but served delicious thali and it was definitely my kind of place. At first I wondered how the owner of the shop made her money because we seemed to be the only ones around, but by the end of our meal the place was filling up with regulars. After a long rest and a good meal, we bid farewell to our host and started to make our way back to the other side of the river, stopping in the shade of a rock to gather our thoughts. There were two children playing in the distance that soon managed to spot us and started heading our way. When I was aware that the children were coming I convinced Kim we should run away, I couldn’t face the prospect of two rowdy children shouting the usual phrases “skoolpen, English, English, twenty rupees” for the next twenty minutes, so running away seemed like a plausible option.
After a hasty retreat we discovered a ruined bridge that had been constructed from huge pillars of stone, many of which had fallen across the river making the rivers path dwindle into a stream, or so we thought. We got stuck trying to cross further downstream from the collapsed bridge so we assumed that we would be able to cross over on the bridge itself. This wasn't the most appealing option because by now the two children we were trying to avoid were playing in that exact place. As we clambered of the fallen pillars and worked our way closer to the two playing children I prepared myself for a torrent of questions, but we passed the children without them saying a word, and hardly acknowledging our existence.
The bridge hadn’t blocked off the water, it had merely shifted it to the next lowest gravitational point and was now flowing strong as an ox in it's new happy home. Climbing along the fallen pillars had taken us across the dried up riverbed and from there we waded through shallow waters to bring us to the tiny island we were now standing on. I walked up and down our little island, and tried to figure out a way across. There were rocks laying in stepping stone like fashion that could take us about two thirds of the way out. The first stepping stone was over jumping distance away from the bank we were on, it was protected by a thorny bush and a layer of roots that were neither easy enough to remove, nor strong enough to use as a platform. After some searching Kim found a branch that would act as a bridge for our descent onto the first stone. Although I am a fairly strong swimmer I don’t have much experience with rivers and the current between the first stone we were now safely standing on, and the second we were trying to get to, was very deceptive. I tried several times to wade across through the rushing water, but each time I was nearly swept away by the current, and after several hopeless attempts I realised I had failed. I wasn’t giving up just yet, and after we clambered back up onto the bank I went to look for a new place to cross. When I found the new perfect place that would ensure us safe passage across to the other bank, I tried again.
The new crossing point was in full view of all the Indian tourists who were visiting the Vitthala temple on the opposite riverbank, and as I made my attempts to cross, my audience started to gather. When I progressed they cheered, and when the river beat me back they jeered and laughed which made it imperative that I cross the river - I would show them what I was made of! Apparently not much and after getting beaten back by the flowing water for the last time I gave up - again. All the while I fought with the river a wicker basket boatman was safely ferrying people back and forth. With my head held low I attracted his attention and we arranged to meet on the tiny cow toilet of an island next to ours. The boat ride was short, and the price was small, but the reason we were trying to swim across in the first place was to balance out the extortionate price we had initially paid. I almost slipped over as I was trying to climb out of the boat right in front of my audience, which didn’t help my mood any, and now feeling extremely grumpy I was glad to get away and start the trail back to town.
TRAVELLERS JOURNAL - BORACAY - Music to travel to...
www.cdbaby.com/cd/travellersjournal
|  | 
|
