Wednesday Malatapay Market
Prior to leaving for Malatapay I met Karen at Harold's Mansion where I was staying. Karen is a Peace Corps volunteer about to end her stint in June. Harold's Mansion is what one can truly call a hostel. You can check out Harold's website : haroldsmansion.com. Yes, Harold is a real person! Only 35 years old, his travels had helped him conceptualized his amiable little hotel. Because of the unique character of the place, one meets all sorts of people.
Karen was based in Siquijor and she asked me why did I leave it out of my tour (she thought I was turned off by its bad reputation in the Philippines as the island of mangkukulam or witches/warlocks), but really it was just a matter of budget.
I would love to go to Siquijor, because it remains relatively undiscovered, with lovely white sand beaches. Anyway, it was interesting to talk to Karen too because she'd been to my home province, Bicol. She was also a personal friend of Julia Campbell. They belonged to the same Peace Corps batch. Turns out that they were together up to Sagada, but then because of scheduling conflicts, Julia had to go on to Batad alone. There Julia met her sad fate.Karen wished me a good day at Malatapay. She said she liked going there, taking in the sights, and afterwards having lunch near the beach. I didn't realize before then that you could have lunch there. Later on, I discovered that the pier there was also used by the charter boats for Apo Island.
Malatapay was like a smaller version of markets you see in the Philippines, but only the best parts. Plus, it was the only place I saw where live cattle was being sold. Men stood around next to their animals, and I assumed some haggling was going on. I saw carabaos, cows, chickens, pigs, and even horses. The market is traditionally done just on Wednesdays, and I wondered how business was over the years.
The market strip led all the way down to the beach and pier, where tables were set up for those who'd worked out an appetite for fresh seafood. The food was good and cheap, but I felt slightly uncomfortable as a barefoot Bukidnon tribal woman went about the tables with a young child, begging. I felt some relief to see another (I assumed of the same tribe), going around seranading people instead for some coin since it was more of an honest living. He played me a piyesa (a piece), and doffed his hat with a smile afterwards.










