Vigan, The Philippines

So in one day we went from Sagada to Bontoc, Abatan, Cervantes, Tagudin and finally Vigan. We arrived at ten o clock and I assumed that we would call it a night and explore in the morning, that was until we walked through the town and was greeted by this:


I got so excited that I wanted to break out into the Carlton Dance. I asked a couple of hot Filipino girls where they were staying so we could find where the hotels were, they told me they had a room for about £35 a night, but it was suitable for four people. The sexual predator in me wanted to ask if we could stay with them and penetrate them until they needed wheelchairs for the foreseeable future, but in the end I did what most manly men would do and chicken out, mumble “thank you” and run in the opposite direction with my arms flailing…

We checked into the hotel and I jumped in the shower. In my haste I couldn’t find the soap in my toiletry bag, and whilst rummaging through I was unlucky enough to catch a razor blade that had somehow became detached from the razor and was loose in the bag, slicing my finger open in the process. And when I say sliced, I mean blood was still running down my arm after two minutes. I grabbed a plaster and wrapped it as tightly as I could, not before staining the towel and the sheets with blood…


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Crisis averted! With my battlescar I thought it would be a legendary idea to check out the nightlife, however the chance had gone and the 2 girls had drifted off into the night, so the Canadian (who was now being referred to as ‘Angry Canadian’, which must be sung to the tune of ‘Taz from Tazmania’…) and I found a stunning Southern European style outside cafe to get some food.

Angry Canadian wasn’t going to stop being pissed off without a fight though; and kept asking the waiter difficult and irrelevant questions until he panicked, then the Angry Canadian would tut and look at him as if he was an idiot. Then when we got our burgers he continued to moan about how shit it was. Since I have lived in Thailand for so long I looked away passively showing no emotion as if to say ‘Kap…’

The next day I went on a horse carriage ride. I went by myself so it wasn’t as romantic as you would think. I pretended that I wasn’t bothered and tried to not mutter ‘always the bridesmaid, never the bride…’ as I took some world class pictures…


Then the carriage driver took me to some obscure museum. The guide showed me a painting of an important looking fellow and proudly said, “This was the only president of The Philippines”.

I looked at the picture and it read, ‘6th president of The Philippines’ and thought, “Well that’s a lie straight off the bat…”

I was then told that the museum used to be the president’s house, we walked outside to the garden and as we walked back he pointed out that they had three prison cells in the house.

Me: Why did he have prison cells in his house?

Guide of the year: Yes sir…

Me: No, that’s not a yes/no question. WI’m asking why did he have a prison inside his house?

Guide of the year: Because of people…

Me: Because of people?

Guide of the year: Yes sir.

Me: …Brilliant! Let’s move on…

Then the carriage driver tried to kidnap me 17th century style: He kept leading me away from town saying ‘Yes sir’ whenever I finished my sentence, normally something about why we were going further and further away from town. By the time we got to the next town over and he was still pointing forwards saying yes sir I shouted ‘STOP!’ and told him I wasn’t going to pay him any extra, so he should take me back now since we were already 55 minutes into our 1 hour ride, and for the last fifteen minutes he was leading me astray ignoring my pleas to go back. Finally we trotted back, and the guy was nice about it and didn’t kick up a fuss.

Then me and Angry Canadian went to the bus stop to try and book a ticket to Angeles. He was shouting at the guys behind the desk and talking to them like they were idiots, then I put my cape on and thought I’d intervene. saying;

Me: We’re either going to Angeles or Manila depending on…

Angry Canadian: Ugh! Don’t fucking tell them we are going to Angeles, I though you would have figured that out by now.

Me:…But…We are going to Angeles…

Angry Canadian: Yeah, but we don’t want them to know that!

I thought, ‘well, how are we supposed to get there then?’

Angry Canadian: People only go to Angeles for two reasons; either gambling or whoring…

Me: But I’m not going to…. I give up….

So the next day I decided to give Angeles a miss, and go straight down to Puerto Galera. The last I saw of Angry Canadian was when we were sitting in the restaurant and he was aggressively saying to the waiter “EH? YOU GOTTA MEH?” Which I surmised by the fact we were in a restaurant roughly translated to, “Excuse me kind sir; would you be so kind as to pass me a menu? I’m feeling rather parched and would like something savoury to compliment my quenching of thirst.” Or something along those lines…

I went exploring around the town to kill a few few hours and found out that there was a ‘dancing fountain’ show at 7:30 in the evening, so I ended my fantastic stay in Vigan by watching a water show before catching the bus and heading to Puerto Galera

Overall I loved Vigan. The only downside being that the hotels were very expensive, like European prices expensive. Beside that though it’s definitely worth a visit.

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