The east road runs along the edge of Mindoro like a seam. On one side, the sea. On the other, a thin strip of houses, rice fields and the occasional church painted a colour that does not exist in nature.
The van from Calapan leaves when it is full, and it is full when the driver says so. This is not a rule you can argue with. I took the seat behind him, where I could watch him drive with one hand and eat with the other.
The coast
For two hours the road does one thing: it turns slightly to the left. The sea appears and disappears. A dog sleeps in the middle of a village road and every vehicle goes around it, politely. A boy on a bicycle races the van for two kilometres and wins.
A boy on a bicycle raced the van for two kilometres and won.
The stop
Halfway there the van pulls over at a stand with a pile of green coconuts. The vendor cuts the top off one with three strokes of a bolo. You drink, you hand it back and he splits it open so you can scrape the soft meat with a spoon cut from the shell. It costs nothing worth mentioning and is the best thing you will eat all day.
Arriving in Roxas
The van drops everyone at the same corner, and a dozen tricycle drivers appear as if from the pavement. If you are heading to the port, walk the short way. If you are not, agree on the price before you sit down.