The Russian Swimming Pool

I recently made an excursion to a unique Kabul sight with some friends - an Olympic-size swimming pool built by the Russians during the Soviet occupation, which is located on top of a hill overlooking Kabul. There's no water in it (although our driver thought we were going to go swimming), so you can enter the pool and walk around inside, much to the bemusement of the Afghan National Police watching. Rumour has it that the Taliban used to hang people off the colossal diving boards, although I'm not sure if this is just a Kabul tale or not.

 

The view from the top was spectacular, with endless brown roofs and mountains in the distance, smothered in clouds. Some NATO helicopters swooped overhead and reminded us of where we were. NATO helicopters are an everyday occurrence (disturbance) here, but there was something quite special about seeing them from the top of this hill. Definitely a memorable excursion.

No shortage of oddness in Kabul

I thought I would share a couple of amusing snaps from the past week in Kabul. It's only in these kinds of countries where you would see such things, I feel.

Firstly, we have a woman travelling in the boot of a car. Clearly not happy with the prospect of having the boot locking her inside, she opts to hold it open, no doubt tiring her right arm significantly. As we approached from behind, we saw that there was also a kid or two in the boot with her, not to mention uncountable others stuffed inside the car.

The next one was taken by a colleague in the 4th floor toilets at the Ministry of Finance. It is a urinal on the windowsill - out of use, of course. There isn't any barrier between it and the outside world; I fear a sudden collossal gust of wind may dislodge it and send it crashing to the streets below. Being floored by a flying urinal would not be a good way to go...

It's these kinds of things that provide bursts of amusement when living in a place like Kabul - and the way they are so unexpected make it even more so.

Exploring Siquijor

The highlight of the Philippines this time was the island of Siquijor, a 1 hour speedboat ride east of Negros. This small island is famous for witchcraft and sorcery - many Filipinos won't go there - but sadly I didn't come across any of it. It was stunningly beautiful, with green paddy fields, turquoise waters and idyllic village scenes. I wouldn't say it was on a par with Palawan, where I went two years ago, which was truly paradise, but utterly beautiful nevertheless.

I stayed at Villa Marmarine, a hotel owned by a Japanese couple, Dagman and Marmarine (their nicknames). After retiring from life in Japan and abroad (Dagman was an elementary school teacher, and worked at the Japanese schools in Kuwait, Lebanon and the Netherlands too) they decided to emigrate to somewhere cheaper and more exciting, and ended up in Siquijor. Their hotel is experiencing a boom in business, and it's well-deserved. They have a series of cottages with private verandahs, overlooking the sea. There are Japanese touches and on the menu they had some Japanese dished too. It felt quite bizarre find this pocket of Japaneseness, including sashimi and hotcakes (pancakes)) in this small island in the Philippines.

Days were spent hiring a motorbike and exploring the island, stopping off at beaches, villages, waterfalls and generally whatever else took my fancy. This freedom to go wherever I wanted, whenever, was just the perfect antidote to the contained life in Kabul. I realise that greenery and open spaces have a very calming effect on me.

 

My first sunset seen from Villa Marmarine

 

Kalasua beach - not a soul in sight

Filling up with gasoline

A typical road in Siquijor

Roadside stall

Cambugahay Falls

 

Paliton beach

With Dagman (aka Toshio Harada) at his hotel, Villa Marmarine.

Negros Oriental (Philippines)

I took advantage of Philippines Airlines' great fares and service with a smile to fly to Negros, one of the large islands in the Visayas region, just north of Mindanao. Negros is divided into Negros Oriental and Negros Occidental; I went to Oriental. It is not an area that sees huge numbers of tourists, like Boracay or Cebu.

The main city of Dumaguete is a pleasant, breezy city facing the sea. The Rizal Boulevard that follows the East coast was a great place to walk (something not possible in Kabul!) and meet a selection of vendors, beggars and - after dark - young females keen to chat.

Rizal Boulevard

As a university city (the Silliman University, which occupies much of the centre, is apparently a prestigious one), this city attracts a range of students from developing countries keen to learn English in a fairly cheap place. So, somewhat bizarrely, Somali and Iranian students are a common sight.

The markets were a treat. There was the main market in the centre of Dumaguete city - where I feasted on mangosteens, buko (young coconut) and lanzones (not sure what the English is. They are sweet-sour little brown fruits that look like longans).

Dumaguete main market

I took a bus to Malatapay, where a huge weekly market takes place every Wednesday. There was nothing there I actually wanted to buy, but often the most interesting markets are like that. I have long been a fan of markets and bazaars, and always enjoy wandering around and looking at all the different produce on sale. Not being able to wander around bazaars in Afghanistan is one of the most frustrating things, where I'm sure the bazaars must fascinating.  Here, there was everything here, ranging from clothes to fish pastes (the smell hits you long before you see it), from pigs to bananas. The animal section was thriving, with all sorts of creatures being hauled onto trucks and driven off to their fates on other parts of the island.

Malatapay market

Having feasted on some succulent pork lechon (roasted suckling pig) with the hottest chilli I have ever experienced (it was a mere one centimetre-long, and I was told to crush it in a soy sauce and vinegar mixture to go with the pork. The little fella had more kick than a bottle of Tabasco), I got a jeepney back towards Dumaguete, stopping off at a scenic mountainous area around the small town of Valencia, 6 km south-west of the city. With waterfalls, jungles and ravines it was the kind of place I would like to spend several days. The climate was deliciously cool - a welcome contrast to the heat of the coast. The area often smelled of sulphur, from the natural hot springs that are evidently abundant here. The Japanese - big fans of hot spring or onsen - would surely love it here. The real treat for me was a swimming pool next to the Pulang Bato falls, where I refreshed myself before the ride back to Dumaguete city.

The swimming pool next to Pulang Bato