We woke up at 5:30 to catch the sunrise. Joy and Lyca swam, while I walked further along the beach to take pictures. While taking a picture of the sunrise, the man nearby asked me, “You like taking pictures?”
I knew that the Filipino tourist had mistaken me for a foreigner. I said, “Yes, and I’m a local!” For a moment he was taken aback. I could not fault him for his mistake. Everyone else did in Bohol. The first time Joy and I went down the beach, a boatman had asked us, “Japanese, Korean, Chinese?” We sisters laughed and said, “No! Pinoys!” And they were surprised to hear us talk to them in Bisaya.
Leo, the fellow sunrise photographer, told me he thought I was Vietnamese. I had worn my Mao cap and eyeglasses that morning.
It was going to be a long day for us because we would tour Bohol’s famous sights. Mang Domeng would be our driver and tour guide. The seven-stop itinerary was standard: Blood Compact Site, Baclayon Church, Giant Python, Loboc River Cruise, Tarsier, Chocolate Hills, and Hanging Bridge. The Blood Compact Site we decided to see last to get a headstart on the crowd.
