CORON

The last time I was in Coron was in 2000 during a 1-hour stop of a 22-hour ship trek to El Nido.

The MV Dona Juliana (?) docked; a sea snake swam towards somewhere but too quick and far for my Olympus Camedia; some passengers engaged in a quick basketball game; I walked around the pier; the ship's mess officer came back with some fresh crabs for his breakfast perhaps with the young crew member who was with him.

I'm back in Coron after some 12 years for 4 days of Oxfam-GB's Economic Justice Partners' Assembly.

My lady seat mate made a pillow of my shoulder after gorging on Piatos during the uneventful Cebu Pacific flight to Busuanga; Australian cows graze on Australian grasses as our van bumped on unfinished bridges on the way from the airport to Coron; anemic iced tea lemonade was served as we reached our hotel that was built on reclaimed land which scarred Coron Bay forever.

Of course, the first order was to seek for the usual church which I found on a hillside and under renovation (Photo1); I climbed the 750 or so steps to Mt. Tapyas and gazed at the profile of the Sleeping Giant with a mini hard-on (Photo2); we sidled to a bar where the cocktail waitress served us Coron Sling after Kawayanan Sling after Screwdriver after Frozen Margarita after cold San Miguel Beer Lights (Photo 3). 

Coron is hot. As in HOT!