After ten minutes of being tossed around inside the bowels of a small rickety boat by waves that swelled up to ten feet I started to question why I wanted to visit Siquijor in the first place. The ferry that took us from Dumaguete was small and cramped; the crew had to place plastic bunks in order to accomodate more passengers and for some reason the cabin reeked of gasoline. It also didn't help that the boat, while relatively free of litter, had the certain aura of being generally grimy - like it's been ages since it's been given a…
