Domestic “Eco” 91has recently been sponsored by the City government as a livelihood venture. Teri
warns us to take our change for the CR (comfort room, toilet) which has been
built as part of tourism projects, so that community groups can collect revenue
from users. As we exit the van, one of the young women I have been chatting with
suggests we climb the stairs to the viewing platform to have our photograph taken
together on her digital camera—“for Facebook”—against the backdrop of the
mountain range and bay. One of the couples examines the beachwear for sale in
front of the view deck café. A monkey walks along the balcony of the restaurant,
its movements partially restricted by a long chain.
Upon first setting off, Teri warned against a possible inclination to sleep during
the ride, as there would be plenty of scenery to observe and information to hear.
Now that we are back in the van continuing the trip, she narrates the journey through
a series of anecdotes. As the limestone karst range of the Park begins to dominate
the landscape Teri tells us about the “native” Batak who, she explains, inhabit the
upland, interior of the forest beyond the road. She describes Batak peoples through
points of supposedly exoticized difference: their “Negrito” origins, “dark skin”,
“curly hair”, and “short stature” (for a similar account during such van trips, see
Dressler 2011). Her descriptions rely on a Batak absence to inscribe their imagined
presence upon the passing landscape in a way that is uncomfortably similar to the
spectacle evoked in her previous story (pointing out to us a river where supposedly
a local child was eaten by a crocodile). When we approach the small section of the
road before Sabang that remains unpaved, Teri warns passengers of the upcoming
discomfort by drily telling them that if they had instead availed of the multi-cab
journey (a small jeepney-style vehicle with open windows and doors) to Sabang,
they could have received a “free massage” (a reference to the rough road) and
“free powder” (dust). Her visitors shriek with loud laughter at what is a common
genre of self-deprecating jokes told across the Philippines, humorous comments
that Fenella Cannell suggests, “play on the gap between aspiration and reality”
(1999, p. 21). As we cross over a stream where women are washing clothes via a
small wooden bridge of rickety appearance, Teri announces to us that it is called
the Miracle Bridge. “Do you know why it is called Miracle Bridge?” she asks
smiling, “that is because it is a miracle that the government built it!” This joke is
met with further laughter, and upon passing back the same way later in the day,
several passengers call out “Miracle Bridge” as we cross it.
Taking the same trip the next week with another guide, Ramon, his own
anecdotes reference not the state in a general sense but a specific politician—
Puerto Princesa City Mayor Edward Hagedorn, who is famously portrayed as an
illegal logger turned environmentalist. Ramon explains Hagedorn’s commitment
to a “clean and green” Puerto Princesa City by recounting a popular story about
the Mayor’s oplan linis (anti-littering) program: After the Mayor was allegedly
caught by a janitor throwing away a cigarette butt, he paid the PHP 200 fine
as evidence that “even those who make the laws must follow them”. Ramon
dramatically describes to guests how he believes Mayor Hagedorn has defended
the Park against mineral extraction by promoting ecotourism as an alternative
mode of generating revenue. However, Ramon suggests, such a venture relies