So, yesterday afternoon, we're lounging in our room at the Sagada Homestay. With pine wood flooring and walls and breath-taking views, it's the nicest place we've stayed in so far. The breeze is gently blowing the curtains back from the open windows, letting in a few sun beams. I glance over at Josh, who looks contemplative.
"What are you thinking about?"
"The Zodiac killer."
"What?"
"I was just reading some TV reviews on The Daily Beast, and there's a new one about serial killers that looks cool. You know they never caught the Zodiac guy?"
I was thinking about the great trip we've been having so far, but to each his own.
We kicked off in Dumaguete, the capital of Negros Oriental. It was a great place to start because you have all the conveniences of a city but can catch ferries to a variety of small islands. The first one we hit was Siquijor. There are some beautiful falls, and the white-sand beaches are gorgeous and almost tourist-free, but rather small. The real thing to do there is see a witch doctor.
Yeah, a witch doctor.
Stupid Lonely Planet acted like it wasn't really worth the effort to see one. Were they ever wrong. It is a bit of a drive--we rented a motorbike and drove up through the mountains to San Antonio, a village about an hour and a half away from the main town. Luckily, once we were in the area, we got flagged down by some guys harvesting coconuts who wanted to offer us some fresh juice. While slurping it right out of the coconut shell, I asked about seeing a healer.
"Annie Ponce," said the oldest guy. "She is the best. Just drive up there and ask--everyone knows her."
Annie lived in a nipa hut with her family, with a little room added on for her to see patients. From the moment we walked in, it was obvious that the practices of this "witch doctor" weren't about sorcery. Instead, they were a funky mix of older, traditional healing and Catholicism, the country's popular religion. Hanging on one of the walls was her assortment of handmade cross necklaces, which she explained could protect from illness, evil spirits, and "people who don't like you." There was also a statue of a saint I didn't recognize, and a small bowl with a handle in the shape of the Virgin Mary.
Annie started our session by asking what she could do for me.
"Uhh," I hesitated. I was doing it out of curiousity, but I'm pretty sure you can't just tell someone who considers herself a doctor that she's a tourist attraction. "I umm, just heard that this was an interesting thing to do."
She looked at me skeptically.
Great. That was probably insulting.
"She has allergies," Josh interjected helpfully.
"Ahh. OK, no problem,"Annie said.
She had me sit in a chair and made a charcoal fire underneath it, which, I must admit, was a bit terrifying. Then she wrapped me in a sheet from the neck down and basically smoked me out. While the smoke was getting thicker and my seat frighteningly warmer, she started crossing me over my head and the back of my neck and chanting prayers. Then she mixed a concoction of coconut oil and herbs in the bowl with the Virgin Mary handle and massaged it into my face, neck, and back, followed up by some more crossing and prayers.
"OK." She removed the sheet and the escaping smoke billowed up to the ceiling. "Don't take a shower today. Also, don't eat chicken, fish, or shrimps anymore."
I nodded obediently. (I definitely broke all those rules within like six hours.)
"How do you feel?" She looked at me expectantly.
Uhh, oily? "Relaxed!"
She nodded resignedly and looked at the unidentifiable saint.
Crap. Another insulting answer.
She said payment was donation only. I paid a lot. It must have been enough for her to overlook my ignorant insults because she sent me home with a coconut oil potion, good for "skin infections, insect bites, and stomachaches."
I have to admit, since my visit with Annie, I've reduced my Zyrtec pills by half. Of course, that could be because I no longer live in my moldy Taiwanese apartment . . .
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