Week 3.SMASH.

Well, well, well, look what we’ve got here. You just can’t get enough can you! For shame. I, on the other hand, am open with my voyeuristic love for too much never being enough. Today is another glorious day on the island of Negros in the Philippines. Some of my friends still think I am in Malaysia or even Indonesia. Just to help everyone out, I am training to be a DiveMaster. It’s like being in the jungle but it’s underwater.

If I’m honest there are many parallels between my life as a Bearded JungleMan and my currently life as a Bearded DiveHero (my words not anyone else’s). I wake up every morning earlyish, make sure that my beard and hair look good, they do. Do I wear a vest today? What colour shorts? Am I going to be diving or swimming in the hour or two? All tricky things to consider. It can get chilly out here. It dropped below 27^oC the other day. Next decision is footwear - flip-flops not jungle boots – do I wear my cheap workhorse pair or the fancier pair that I “save for best?” I still give a respectful nod to my boots which faithfully stand guard outside the front door being aired for the rest of their life. I eat my apple and then head to the office. Admittedly I had no choice of clothes to choose from or any such luxury as to care about the weather OR the chance to eat apples or have a shower or drinkable water OR a bed to ponder such existential conundrums in the jungle but I still hold firm that my current life is still similar to my recent incarnation.

So, I’ve made it out of bed, had a HOT shower, brushed my teeth taken my vitamin supplements and walked all the way to the lodge where I am greeted by friendly, happy faces – both staff (Anne or Lovely (that's her ACTUAL name) and guests – usually checking emails, trying to book flights or looking at their next destinations. Breakfast ranges from a bowl of good old fashioned Kellogg’s cornflakes with milk to The Whole Shebang (egg, bacon, grilled tomato, toast, fruit salad and a glass of tang). The first dive leaves approximately 8:30 depending on where you are going and how many dives are taking place that day.

 I leave my key with Nez who runs the dive shop whilst being possibly the sweetest, kindest and smiliest girl IN THE WORLD. Let’s pretend we are going to Apo Island which is one of the world’s best dive sites. Ginalyn would have packed our lunch of rice and fish or a sandwich on homemade bread and we would all head to Putt-Putt the beach launch boat that takes us to Sundancer. Once we are in the vicinity of the water we are placed safely in the hands of Captain Vince, Roy ‘the tank’, Julius and sometimes Alan who is tankish in build but fridge-like in stature. Between these guys you are both safe and CONSTANTLY amused/confused. As Sundancer ploughs through any waves that may exists, the divers chatter excitedly about the various flamboyant or ghost or flamboyant ghost species of fish they might see or perhaps they glaze poetically out to sea. Once we have reached our dive site and Vince has deciphered a multitude of conflicting hand signals given by Julius and Alfred (Roy just sits quietly atop the prow of the boat waiting to hooking the mooring line). Alfred – Liquid’s current DiveMaster will give us the briefing which I would be willing to bet mentions a “sandy sloop” (slope). Alfred likes sandy sloops. We will dive. Everyone has their own ways of enjoying their dives. For example, I like to be upside down or hovering while hardly breathing, Dan likes to spot fish and take photos where possible, Alfred plays on the sandy sloops somehow finding things that barely exist, yet when we re-surface everyone bubbles with the same enthusiasm. I love that. There is also a touch of international and slightly indecipherable banter. I love that as well.

We will return TRIUMPHANTLY back to the resort and fill Keith in with all the fish we have seen (he very interested). Once all equipment is rinsed and humans de-salinated in my favourite shower I head to the lodge/bar/restaurant/chill out area where San Miguel Light is served by the crate load.

 Just as a heads-up to my weight conscious friends, San Miguel Light is not light on alcohol but calories, just 150kcal per bottle. AMAZING. Couple that with happy hour and you have the makings of (another) wonderful evening at Liquid Dumaguete. It is around this time that I’ll have my daily conflab with Keith. This is one of my favourite parts of the day during which I am assured all is well with Ian down at the Drill Shack – a bar along the beach from us owned and run by Ian a former oil driller. How can this joyous day get any better I hear you ask? I wondered the same thing when I first arrived. It does not include narcotics, hookers or guns. Ricky and Peddy, the chef and his assistant respectively, conjure up different, tasty and filling meals for lunch and dinner EVERY DAY. I have not eaten the same thing twice yet. One of my personal favorite parts about dinner is that we eat as a big family. All round one table. All chattering about everything from fish seen that day to Blackadder. Who could be homesick with a surrogate family like this?

Slowly but surely people head to bed or hang out and watch whatever movie is playing that night. I usually retire around nine sometimes via the beach where I sit, watch the (shooting) stars and listen to some music using my Wild Spice Pingles can amplifier. You think this is some crazy novelty electronic product however you would be more wrong than banana in Spaghetti Bolognese. If you have a electronic device with a small tinny speaker, merely put it speaker end down into a pringles can and you have a Bose sound system. If in the jungle use a LARGE tin of tuna (after you have burnt the residual food and moisture out of it... and let it cool). Try it. Unless you have an iPod dock. That probably works better.

As usual my friends, my tan is getting darker and I am awaiting your visit with excitement. Make it happen people. This place has to be seen, lived and breathed to be believed.

Much love,

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Week two has been and gone. Time appears to be accelerating. There must be a few holes in the space/time continuum AND the flux capacitor is on the blink. THIS could get messy. If I start writing about future events using the past tense then contact Marty McFly, the Time Bandits and Dr Who...

I have started writing this whilst atop my perch as barkeep for the evening. For those of you who have known me a little while, will know that this can go one of a few ways: either EVERYONE will get hammered or just I will get hammered. I will attempt to keep this civil... Turns out, I was remarkably sober for most of the evening and Dan passed his snorkel test = a little-lot bit tipsy. Check out the photos on Facebook. I especially like the before and after.

I have been learning much from Yosha – Ukrainian filmmaker and zen-like diving instructor extraordinaire. We discuss the finer points of breathing and buoyancy on a regular basis. Gio, our resident Frenchman and “booteure” enthusiast has arrived. Dan is now DiveMaster Dan and Saniya and I are slowly slowly becoming better and better, happier and happier divers.

With regard to diving progress, I am now an ADVANCED diver with a few more dives under my belt. I will reiterate my closing words for my last missive – breath slow and take it easy. THIS is something I gently whisper to myself during most of my times underwater. I am fairly sure, and forgive my lack of jargon, there is a LOT but I think I might be becoming a dive-hippy type. I cannot stress enough how magical the underwater world is. I might not yet know all the varieties of nudibranchs or the difference between an ornate and a ghost pipefish (yet) so I spend most of my time underwater playing whilst concentrating on breathing air NOT water.

Playing mainly involves trying to see how little air I can use over the period of a dive. This basically translates to varying breathing between shallow but slightly faster cycles or SLLLOOOOWWWW deep breaths. Something I had not considered in the real world was how breathing or a breath affects you while underwater. Turns out if you breath IN you float more and if you breath out you sink. (ish).

Tatiana and Slav took this photo of me while diving the wall at Kanu Panan. I love it. More games. Wondering around on my back although I prefer to hover upside down - feet up head down – often imagining I am a cameraman for the BBC natural department. It might be a little bit vain but I am very curious what I look like underwater. I am not know for being graceful so maybe, just maybe I am a tiny bit elegant underwater. Hopefully more photos of my underwater exploits to come.

Have you ever pondered how you quantify making it? Gold plated Rolls Royce or mink lined underwear? How about a heated toilet? Somehow my life now has a fully functioning headed toilet... I already had the mink underwear. Lickie D’s (still trying to see if there is a way of shortening Liquid Dumaguete) main water source is a natural, volcanic hot spring so all the water is hot. No, sorry. It is H.O.T. So whenever the need takes you, you sit atop a pre-warmed throne. Does life get much better?

There is also the enigma commonly referred to as Keith or Lolo. This is a gentleman (I use the term loosely) who appears to have lived at least three lifetimes worth of anecdotes. Never short of a word. Always ready with an opinion, rarely without a smile. I have and will continue to look forward to many sundowners while highlighting the world’s problems. We tend to highlight but not fix the problems.

Export quality semi dried mango. This stuff is DEElightful. You can imagine the rest especially if eaten with hot and spicy peanuts.

Having spent the last few months in the jungle and remote rural areas, I have become accustomed to the morning call from the cockerel. I was not mentally prepared for the alarm-cow. I can only imagine that there is a bovine prankster who assumes it is HILARIOUS to come passed my home and MOO very loudly at around 6am. Ok, I admit that I should be awake by then but I DO NOT need a cow to tell me so although I like the quirkiness.

The sun has risen and set 13/14 times since I first arrived here. With every day that passes I feel happier, stronger and more excitable about life. I am surrounded by a brilliantly eclectic group of people and continually engulfed by nature’s beauty both above and below the surface. To be training to make this a profession on top of all that? C’moooon. I am probably one of the luckiest people alive at the moment.

Until the next time people. Remember, upside down is the new right way up!

Love,

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KAPPOWWWW. I have arrived at Liquid Dumaguete. Not in a fanfare or to a 21 gun salute, but in the only way I know best – sweaty, a little bit tired, massive bag on my shoulder (I had put my rucksack inside a larger dry bag to enhance its capacity) and a HUGE/excited smile on my face.

Hurdle #1 was easily overcome seeing as Mr Liquid Dumaguete aka Tim was at the airport in Dumaguete to pick me up. The best part for me was he had a board with my name on it (check out the photo!) so as to heighten our likelihood of recognising each other. I have never had that privilege before so things were already looking good and it was irrelevant that I was the only bearded white guy on the flight.

I kid you not. I feel like I have landed in paradise. I had the news broken to me that the staff quarters had not been built yet and so I would have to sleep in one of the beach front bungalows. Tough life for some! I am not showing off, but have a look at my view! I genuinely thought that views/houses/situations like this only existed in dreams and holiday brochures. From my personal experience, holiday brochures are as true to life as Lord of the Rings.

Who am I? Why am I invading your screen? How did I end up here? How do I get my hair to look THIS good? All questions I will answer in good time. We, no doubt will become old friends who regale our grandchildren with stories of restraining orders against each other and bar fights due to disagreements on the principles of modern art but for now, here are the basics. My name is Adam WonderBear Detre and I am working at Liquid Dumaguete towards my PADI DiveMaster qualification. So I do have some purpose to my life. I have spent the last four months training, living, and working in the jungles of Sarawak in Malaysian Borneo as part of a working-out-what-I-want-to-do-with-my-life journey’. I am not a fan of the modern use of the word journey. It is horrendously pretentious and horribly faux-liberal. Before this recent incarnation, I worked in a political communications company where I met a good man named Gav. It was a balmy sunny evening in early April, in the pub, after a few drinks that we started talking about my trip and he mentioned how his best mate Zoe was opening a diving resort in the Philippines. I emailed her that night. The rest is history.

Let me paint you a picture. You drive through Dumaguete towards Dauin on the island of Negros along the coastal road. The island is full of life and colour with breathtaking backdrops in every directions. The people are laid back and friendly with smiles being flung about with gay abandon. 20 minutes later and you turn off towards Liquid Dumaguete. To call this turn-off a road would be EXTREMELY generous but fortunately ‘The Lobster’ (the LD dive jeep) is well equipped. The hallowed gates appear and we turn in. BAM. You are hit by serenity, happiness and warmth – emotional and physical. You/I have arrived. I was gently ushered up to the bar/restaurant which is COMPLETELY open with view out towards the ocean. I mentioned the beautiful backdrops but they have NOTHING on the soundtrack to Liquid D (I am still trying to work out how to shorten the name). The ocean is the best piece of nature’s music that I have listened to. There are lovely people bustling around, it is nigh IMPOSSIBLE to carry anything for yourself without one of the many capable and friendly staff taking it off at a gallop to your destination. I’ll stop gushing now. In a nutshell, this place is heavenly. I feel very lucky.

Within a few hours I was in the pool with SCUBA gear on learning my first lessons. Day one, ended as with every other day with everyone eating dinner together. The food is perfect. A nice blend between slightly experimental (see spicy fruit and vegetable salad) and comforting (see breaded freshly caught fish and parsley boiled potatoes. Every day has been highlighted by heading INTO the water - twice at Publacion and Cars and twice OFF THE BOAT (checkout the pictures) at Masaplod North and Dauin South. By the end of day four I had six dives under my belt everything but my final test to do to pass my PADI Open Water Diver. I. FREAKIN’ LOVE IT.

I shan’t start to talk the big talk about diving (yet). At the moment, I am very aware of being a complete rookie. BUT, the oneness created by the peace and weightlessness coupled with the necessarily slow breathing is not replicable. I am happy and proud to be the first at the Liquid Dumaguete DiveMaster Academy.

Just as a bit of a side note. There is ONE song that I thing will forever remind me of this first life changing week. Have a listen to Is Love Enough – Michael Franti & Spearhead feat. Gentlemen.

As i sit here...

... I start to reflect. I left Malaysian Borneo.

I appreciate every traveller-type starts to wax lyrical about how all they need is their bag on their back and the simplicities that life offers when you are fortunate. I’m hopefully not going to do that. (As a rule with these mails, I don’t edit them so I a genuinely quite curious what gems I am going to spout).

*new paragraph*

I am content with my life as it is at the moment. I am surrounded by good people with, strong hearts and giving personalities. The sun is shining at the moment, it’s warm, having not had a hot shower in almost a month I now have perma-hot water from a natural hot spring. Talk about going from one extreme to the other! I haven’t changed my clothes properly for 2 weeks. My hair is matted. My beard is dull and lifeless. UNFORGIVEABLE. I have cuts, grazes and bruises all over my body (including a split above my eye gained from a flying can of beer in the dark. More about that later). All in all, each mark or blemish make me feel a little happier that I am outside constantly. I sleep outside often, I eat outside almost always and I walk somewhere to somewhere else daily. I think that is what I will miss. The mud, blood sweat and fears. There have been no tears, but I have to cross this bridge each day and I shit myself every time I do. I was not designed to carry me.

Last time I wrote I had been in the jungles on my own. For those of your who entered the ‘Back to the start’ 10Ringit mega-competition, the answer was Razorlight. Sadly no one won this time so the prize will be rolled over into a 20Ringit super-Saturday giveaway this time. I was camping here and there, walking there and here. Sometimes with a clue of where I was often with no idea whatsoever, just a firm belief that I would find where I was aiming for when I got there.

Eventually, with some luck and some judgement I placed myself on a path I knew well and stayed there a day and a half, I saw monkeys wander through the tree tops and heard gibbons VERY near. Then, I was woken by a human whistling. It was Rian, the local jungle hero and an old friend from my trip. Embarrassingly, I had slept until 12pm. I joined him and we walked on to RiverSnail camp. He had found an abandoned baby civet cat in one of the previous camps and had rescued him. I called him Derek. He was AWESOME. He liked sleeping in my sleeve. As you can imagine, I loved him greatly but sadly he died after 6 days in our car after a VERY cold night in the highlands.

I wandered back to Pa’ Umor with Rian and Jaun – his assistant. Jaun is 27, dark skinned, softly spoken, kind and strangely petite to look at BUT built like a tank. I don’t have a man-crush on him. I DON’T OK! We talked, drank, smoked, ate and pondered many of life’s intricacies at Rian’s house. Eventually Jimmy arrived and the pattern continued with an added healthy dose of Britishness. The inaugural night at ‘The VIP’ happened. This mystical fortress of wonderment was actually just Rian’s balcony, but it was about the size of a booth at a club and so we acted and treated it that way. ) We mainly drank Chapappé (CA), pronounced chup-app-pey. It’s a local spirit deemed to have medicinal properties. It’s quite nice really and generally drunk with strong dark tea as a mixer. LOVELY. At £3 a bottle it is the cheapest and most pleasant way to get obliterated.

On a walk home for Pa’ Umor, in the pitch black from the local (8km away). Jim thought it would be a good idea to throw me a beer, again, I stress in the pitch black... We didn’t have torches because we said we wouldn’t be out late. Famous last words. The can hit me HARD above the eye. I bled a bit. It has healed nicely now.

THEN, I met the hippy Canadian – Stu. This is a fella who is doing everything right. He is a carpenter, a self proclaimed ideas man and an all-round good guy. He has built, and I mean, literally he himself has built a few cabins in his pineapple farm with a plunge pool for washing. The water was gorgeously clear and invigoratingly cold. BLISS. I know I have used this word a few times but honestly I cannot think of a better word. Utopia could creep in there but I think that is a pretty big statement. There is only one other occasion back home that I regularly use the word bliss/blissful and that relates to my weekend holidays at Glastonbury. Anyway. Stu and Rose (his wife) were wonderful hosts and the growers of the FINEST pineapples in the area which is a fairly HUGE accolade considering Bario is famed for its pineapples. They are IN-CREDIBLE. I genuinely need another level of superlative. Out of this world? But. They are OF this world so maybe beyond comprehension. He also dries them and makes fruit roll from the pulp mixed with local cane sugar. Joyous.

I learned how to cook some cool things – river fern, curried tomato, fried rice, crispy fish soup and chilli fried tree grubs (surprisingly tasty) the list goes on.

It was with great amount of joy that Oz with his big potato head arrived a few days before I left. We drank CA with gay abandon, then gin with gayer abandon and THEN, headed to town. I say town, I mean to the only road in Bario with its two supermarkets/bars. We continued to drink and play pool. I am not sure if you remember but, I receive a (mortal) would in battle OR basically a can to the face from Jimmy depending on who I tell the story to. Upon talking Oz through this, while playing pool, we drunkenly decided that the stakes for the game should be that the looser has to punch Jimmy in the face. It made for an interesting game. Ultimately we played a few game, punch Jimmy a few times. As if this isn’t fun enough, Jimmy went on to lose a game to Oz. Jimmy is very good at pool. Having lost, he had to punch himself in the face. Bravo Jim. Good sport.

Since starting this email, I have moved on to the next place and new chapter in The Bearded Jungleman chronicles. I MIGHT have to update the name to Bearded Diving Jungleman. Give me some time on that one though.

I am now in Dauin on the island of Negros. I am stupidly happy/lucky/happy/lucky (repetition intended). I have my own beachfront bungalow with an en-suite and the afore mention perma-hot water. I am on cloud 9. Everyone here is friendly, laid back, happy and most importantly WONDERFUL. I think I will fit in well here. So far, I arrived with my humungor bag and a smile and now, I have a room with music, wireless(ish) and an even bigger smile. I am unfashionably content at the mo. I can’t wait for some of you to come see me here. (You really should. It. IS. AMAZING). Yeah, I know. I used bold. That’s how good it is. My breakfast was toasted muesli, fresh pineapple, banana, coconut, mango AND pear/apple WITH MILK. I mean real milk. I have not had mild since I left the UK.

I am sorry if this is a slightly schizophrenic missive. I have written in a few sittings. I hope it conveys how content I am and expresses my gratitude to the world. For me, it’s the thought that at any moment, we would be taken away from this world, a wrong move while driving and badly judged handhold when climbing and bang. You’re gone. Right now, I am living like I mean it and just to re-iterate, I am very thankful that life has enabled me to be able to do this. Thanks life. Thanks world.

Life is good.

Love (meant in its purest sense),

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I learned three things today.

1 sour skittles in Malaysian are ACTUALLY amazingly sour. This is a good thing

2 Pedicures are ok

3 Faizal Tahir’s acoustic version of his song Hanyut is beautiful