WINGSSAIL

This morning I watched a man ride a horse around the bay. He sat erectly in a yellow shirt and cantered his chestnut along the road next to the shore, in a semicircle around me, passing houses and boats pulled up on the beach, until the road turned inland and he passed from view.

Later I saw a chrome jeepney bounce along the same road, furniture piled on the roof, at no more speed than the horse, and I could hear its engine chugging as it jolted from one pot hole to the next.

The men swing by in their boats for a look-see, and the children paddle out in small bancas to visit, but they are shy, and do not talk to me and rarely approach. Perhaps they don't understand English, but when I finally enticed one boatload with some lollies, the girl in the bow followed my instructions perfectly: "One for your sister, now one for your brother�"

Maybe they feel the need for a level of politeness, staying off not to intrude on our privacy, but often they are obviously shy, especially the girls, with their faces turned away from us, so as not to giggle excessively.

We're staying an extra day at Caiman Point, where it is quiet and calm, anchored in clear water over a sandy bottom. The wind is cool and the bay flat, and we slept well here.

Caiman Point, Luzon

A year ago we stopped here for just a night and watched the fleets of fishing banca's come back streaking past in the evening with Filipino men, solitary figures, staring straight ahead towards home. In the morning they go out again, far to sea, with stacks of fishing lines on plastic spools on pegs on the gunnels, and maybe a box of ice in the middle to store the catch. I bought a Dorado in San Fernando from one man, P400, and it was cold inside when I cleaned it, from the ice.

I told Judy to decide if we were staying or going today, but she didn't want to decide.

Later she said we should put the motor on the dingy and go exploring, so that was her decision.